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flowering-thought · 8 months

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I told myself "maybe this will be the last part!" Clearly I was wrong-

Now if you haven't played TOTK or at least gotten spoilers for the story I wouldn't recommend reading this. In Ganondorfs' story, I intended to carry out as much of the plot as I could to prepare for the next part of the ideas I have. Dw, there will be a happy ending! Eventually..

So welcome to part three! Sit back, relax, prepare for drama and a rise in obsessive behavior <3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, spoilers for TOTK, slight imprisonment/isolation, violence, pregnancy, controlling behavior

Yandere Ganondorf x Archeologist Reader (part three)

Everything was perfect. You had grown so content being married to Ganondorf. He was so gentle with you and you loved seeing how warm he could be towards his people.

You knew that the other major village of the Gerudo was slightly sour about your union. After all, legends tell of a male being born every hundred years but they also have whispers about a curse of evil.

You were just glad that there hadn't seemed to be much fighting with the other major Gerudo village and that luckily everything seemed calm.

You loved bringing around your notebook, sketching the village's people and Ganondorf.

One morning he had asked about the scribbles in your notebook that accompanied your drawings and that may have been the catalyst for what was to come.

"These? They are my notes. My thought process is messy and unorganized at times and I don't like people being able to read my notes. It's like an inner look into my thoughts and it's scary to think someone can do that just by picking up a notebook of mine." You answered, returning to the notebook and looking up at your husband to continue sketching him. You loved how the light of dawn would look on his skin.

A part of him thought it was rational of you to create a code just for your notes. But the other part of him whispered and agonized his thoughts of what you could be hiding.

You only had three notebooks on the shelf in your shared room. The fourth you kept with you as it was still being written in as the days passed. He had never had an interest in them before but suddenly those thoughts of his made him anxious.

So one day when you were out roaming the village he picked up the first notebook and opened it. Sights of a village and tower with a large telescope sketched into its pages. And a young Hylian with an odd device around his waist appeared halfway through.

You then began to sketch through the travels, the monsters you saw, and the people you came across along the way, he saw many words repeated which he assumed to be names, and his brows furrowed at the frustration that came with not being able to decipher the code you created.

And then a misty forest scrawled through the pages, and a large tree with a kind face appeared. He thought there was no way such a thing could exist but then he saw the sword in the stone, and anxious characters drawn out in your notebook, small creatures gathered by the Hylian man that you accompanied on his adventures.

He noticed a map fall from the pages and noticed how different things were labeled in the usual Hylian text, including Gerudo Town. And a place called Kara Kara Bazaar. These places don't exist, so why would you create a false map? And the great plataue? And the kingdom of Hyrule in the middle of the central plains?

His heart raced as he looked through the pages, eventually going to the next notebook to look through the different sketches, needing to try and comprehend what your sketches were telling.

And midway through the second notebook he noticed you were celebrating Zeldas' return. As you sketched her and Hylian man that Ganondorf assumed to be reuniting.

And then tales of exploring caverns and different ruins, your sketches of places you got to see with Zelda and the Hylian man.

And the detailed sketch of a sword along with other writings.

And then came the third notebook. It was more details and sketches of people and what seemed to be plans of taking something back. And towards the end what seemed to be ominous clouds leaked out of a cave entrance.

And that was where the third ended.

He placed all notebooks back in their places, including the map into the first notebook.

He made it back to his study and shut the door, ordering everyone out. He sat on his chair and held his head in his hands, trying to understand the information he came across.

It was that moment when he started to watch you more closely as you wrote in your fourth notebook. He noticed you had a habit of mouthing the words you wrote.

You did it quite often at the end of the day when you would write whatever details you learned. But during the days when you were actively doing something you wrote without thought.

So he started to learn what you were mouthing, noticing each character you wrote and would write it down for later, figuring out each character and attempting to put it into everyday use so he could learn it a bit better.

And with that, he waited for another time when you would be out all day. He felt conflicted about sneaking around.

He wanted to ask you but at the same time, he couldn't handle it if you refused to tell him the truth.

And now he sat on the bed, your first notebook in his hands and he opened it up.

It took him a minute to slowly get the characters to line up in his mind and to apply it to the words but finally, he could figure it out.

He skipped to the midway section where the Hylian man showed up.

"One day I was headed up to the lab to see some man standing at the edge of the village where the lab is. Since the home my parents left me is in town I always stay there and make the trek upwards to the lab. Something doesn't feel right if I don't stay in my home. Like I'd be betraying my parents for leaving that home behind for another."

Ganondorf let himself breathe a bit, his mind berating him for thinking that something sinister could be going on. But he continued to read as he wanted to know more about you.

"The man told me his name was Link. He rarely talked but he at least told me his name! He mentioned something about needing to see Purah so I led him up to the lab. And that's where the commotion started. Turns out he's THAT Link!! The hero of Hyrule! The one that was a guard to Princess Zelda!"

"He held the Sheikah Slate on his belt too. And it was mind-boggling to know that he could travel with the use of it to other shrines that were dug up due to the calamity around 100 years ago. After some debate and worries about how Link will travel as he's lost his memories and everything, Purah let Link stay a night and told Link to stay with me for the night so she could adjust the machine that would update the Sheikah slate with some other features."

"She pulled me aside out of Links' view and asked me to accompany him on his journey. I thought it sounded ridiculous. I've never left Heteno Village. All my knowledge of the world was found in books and samples and everything I could get passed down by word of mouth as well. Wouldn't I just be deadweight to a well-trained soldier like Link?"

"But Purah told me that he's been asleep for a hundred years. That the Calamity took his memories and that waking in a world you hardly know is lonesome. And I understand that. To be lonely despite all these people claiming they know you. And for Link to be told he has to rescue someone he doesn't remember and to save a kingdom from Calamity despite not even remembering the kingdom itself."

"So I set out on the journey, assuring Link that when he would have to go after the four divine beasts I would stay behind and wait to not put any pressure on him to keep me safe."

Calamity? Divine beasts? What is happening? Ganondorfs' mind was spinning as he continued through the pages, your visits to the Zora and then the Rito, even the Gorons and the Gerudo people, a town with no men allowed and a girl he doesn't even know as chief.

He couldn't wrap his mind around it as he made it through the notebooks and then finally towards the end of the third notebook that details what you described as Gloom he decided he needed to get his hands on the fourth notebook.

Things were too much and he couldn't keep his anxiety at bay.

When you returned, you greeted him with a big smile, happily hugging him. "I've missed you so much recently! You seem so busy lately." You exclaim, happily sitting on his lap before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

He loved how affectionate you were, it nearly took away all his anxiety at that moment.

And his dark thoughts swayed and his intent to peak into your fourth notebook wavered.

You noticed his change in demeanor and looked up at him, you lifted your hands to hold his cheeks, forcing him to face you. You put your forehead against his and left a little butterfly kiss on his nose, "What's wrong Gan? You've been a bit off recently." you ask.

And how he wished he could just peer right into your mind without having to ask the questions he wanted to know. He wished he knew everything about you. Everything you weren't saying, every moment of your life he wished he had seen by your side.

And with that the question he had left his lips, "Who are you?" He asked, pulling away a bit to cup your cheek. He didn't have the heart to tell you he peaked into your notebooks and deciphered the code to them, he wanted to hear everything from your lips. You held his hand close as you looked into his eyes, trying to understand the meaning of his question.

He could see the frown form on your face and he could tell your mind was racing as the meaning of his question could only be one thing. He moved his thumb across your cheek as he waited for your mind to form words. "I'm the same person you met at the kingdom of Hyrule. I'm just..." He watched as you struggled to say the words you wanted to say, tears forming in your eyes as you leaned your head against his chest, "Please don't think I'm crazy. Don't leave me. Please listen without thinking of how bizarre this all sounds." You begged.

The sound of your voice when begging like that made his heart break. How your voice broke and how the tears rolled down your cheeks, he never wanted to see you in pain, so it was hard to hear. But he gave a hum of confirmation and you told him everything.

You told him you come from an Era where everything happening now is practically a legend of how the kingdom formed, that not much is known about this current Era, that something had happened while traveling and you grabbed Zelda before she fell into a cavern. And somehow she had taken you with her to the past.

He felt you weren't telling him everything. But at the time he understood why. It already sounded impossible to go to the past but the fact that Zelda is a descendant of the current King and Queen also explained the saying that Zelda was a distant relative.

You told him about Link and how he defeated the Calamity. And how you got to meet Zelda and how you were all trying to get the kingdom back on its legs for years until something started leaking out of the depths of Hyrule castle and infecting the people with illness.

But while you told him about the incident about falling and coming to the past, you didn't tell him about the mummy inside the depths. You didn't tell him that you suspected it was him. How could you? Nor did you tell him about the master sword, as a part of you wasn't sure how to explain it to him.

You had told him "everything", and he assured you that his love for you would not change. He held you until you fell asleep and tucked you in after some thinking on his part.

Just because his love for you would not change, doesn't mean he had any trust in others. He could tell you loved him. That you trusted him and believed in him and his capabilities to be a good leader. But he didn't trust anyone around you. If Zelda comes from the past she could figure out a way to bring you to the present again. To bring you back to your Era. He couldn't have that. And if Rauru and Sonia helped her get you back?

His mind raced and he reached for your fourth notebook. He needed to know the details you weren't telling him.

"Calamity Ganon has fallen and yet when we entered that cave and traveled to the past I felt just as stuck when Calamity Ganon was wreaking havoc. A mummy with long red hair and a hand that kept its power at bay. What could have happened? What could have caused such a thing to be underneath the castle? It doesn't make sense. So I'm going to research all I can about the Zonai while I'm here to figure everything out."

It detailed your time before Ganondorf had arrived at the castle. And then your first meeting.

"A Gerudo King called Ganondorf arrived today, a meeting for peace and prosperity. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. The name was all too familiar to a certain monster that plagued Hyrule for 100 years. And yet the mummy we saw bears a resemblance to him. Long red hair and piercing eyes. The jewelry it wore also looked similar."

"But how would such events occur? And he seemingly knew Link and Zelda! He talked about the master sword as well! But never called my name. Or did he even know I was there? Things aren't making sense and I'm afraid of what could happen. Yet I don't want to see the Gerudo suffer either. It seems as though his warriors admire him yet something about Ganondorf seems too ambitious to see exactly how much he is loved."

More entries later, he comes across your thoughts about marriage to him.

"Everyone is advising me to turn down the offer of marriage. I understand why. But I want to change things. Maybe I can stop whatever happens in the future now. While Ganondorf does bear a resemblance to the mummy in that cave and I can't confirm or deny anything, I have this urge to at least try. Plus the Gerudo people are suffering! I can understand the hatred in his heart when his people have to struggle in the desert when it seems as though the Hylian people don't suffer through the same trials they do."

He read it all and it clicked. He had to continue with his plan even if it meant upsetting you.

You wanted to change the future. You wanted to stay with him and keep him safe. You wanted him and also wanted to protect the people of this land. So shouldn't he try to change the future for you?

He needed that secret stone. With that he'd have enough power to make sure nothing could stop him, and that nothing could dare to get between you, not even Zelda or anything called time.

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You awoke to the sight of an empty bed. It's odd because Ganondorf is always by your side with a smile on his face. After the conversation last night, your eyes were slightly puffy and you had a small headache.

Not to mention you felt sick to your stomach.

As much as you wanted to lay in bed and laze around you had the feeling you'd need to find Ganondorf and talk more about the future. You wanted to assure him that even if Zelda found a way back you wouldn't go. That you'd stay with him.

So you got up and got dressed, you looked around for Inesa, as normally she would come to wake you and Ganondorf up if you both were having a lazy morning. But she wasn't anywhere to be found.

You walked to the doors of your bedroom, reaching for the handle only to find that the door wouldn't open.

Your eyes widened and your heart began to race, you tried to keep calm but something in you felt as though something was wrong so you began to push on the doors, trying hard to get out but nothing was happening.

"Your majesty?" a voice came from the other side of the door and the doors opened, two guards on each side and Inesa stood in the middle.

"Inesa? Why is the door being held closed? Has something happened?" You asked, your heart beating far too loud in your ear for your liking.

Inseam glanced at the guards before leading you back into the bedroom. The guards closed the door behind you two, and she sat you down on your bed. "His Majesty has decided to visit the King and Queen of Hyrule. He set out before dawn, so I suspect he's already made it by now." She stated, her eyes showing concern as she watched your features to see how you'd respond.

You quickly got up, Inesa had already started on about how there was nothing to worry about but you couldn't hear her, you searched your bedside table for your most recent notebook only to find it missing. You then quickly searched the shelves and your first notebook. You found the map but it wasn't in the place where you had put it. You put it at the end of the notebook. You did that because it had significance and yet it was in the pages near the middle.

You felt even more sick now. Your head was pounding and you could feel your heart beating uncontrollably. You felt nauseous but also dizzy, reaching out to hold yourself up against your desk but you couldn't find the strength.

Inesa watched you faint, barely managing to catch your head before you hit the ground. She hurriedly called the guards and demanded one of them to bring a healer.

Somehow you had pieced together what Ganondorf was doing and Inesa was hoping you wouldn't. She was ordered to keep you in the bedroom and lie to you, yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to lie. She should have lied so you wouldn't be in such distress.

After you fainted you found yourself waking up on the bed, Inesa and an older Gerudo woman who you had seen healing the wounded before sitting by your side.

Inesa glanced at your face and smiled upon realizing you were awake.

"Oh thank the goddess you're awake. The healer said it was due to stress that you collapsed." She said, holding your hand gently in her own before the healer stood up to feel your head and check your pulse.

"You really need to keep yourself calm, it's not good to be too stressed out, especially in your condition." She stated.

You sat up carefully and looked to your side, looking at the older woman with curiosity written all over your features. "Ah I'm assuming you didn't know? Well it's still early I doubt even the morning sickness has started yet." She said, looking over your features once more before nodding as though confirming to herself once more.

"You're with child little vai. Considering the whole palace and many of the people in the village know of the loud and passionate nights that you and his majesty share its no wonder you've already fallen pregnant. Thought it's good for a man to not be able to keep his hands off his wife no?" She stated.

She left some herbs on your desk and instructed Inesa on how to prepare them for you as it might be better for you to take extra care of your body for the coming months.

You sat there in shock, your hand going to your belly as you hunched over and tried not to cry.

What were you going to do? Ganondorf was undoubtedly going to do something you couldn't stop, something you didn't even know the plans about. You wanted to stop what was going to happen in that cave but what if you caused it?

And now you were with his child? You felt sick. But you also knew you needed to warn Zelda. Ganondorf was probably trying to look for something inside Hyrule castle under the guise of wanting to ensure peace. But you needed to somehow get out of the palace without anyone noticing.

You couldn't even fathom how to get out. You stood up and looked out the windows to Gerudo Canyon. You'd have to make it through there as fast as you could or else there'd be no chance.

As you glance over the palace and at the stables, wondering about how to quickly make your way without running into anyone. But as you looked out the window and took your time to think as night fell and the stars came out, you could see a sudden beam of red light in the distance, the clouds in that section turning a red hue as the same dark light that emitted from the caverns of Hyrule castle had shown themselves for the first time in this Era.

Your heart dropped as you watched, knowing that it had finally happened. You had no choice but to run. Something horrible was going to happen.

You gathered a few clothes and shoved them in a bag, bringing your notebooks as they were the start of this mess. You would need to burn them when you get the chance.

You'd have to escape early morning so you waited, listening by the door for when the guards would go on break or have a change in shift. And when you finally heard the telltale signs of the guards leaving you tested to see if the door would open and smiled when they did.

You quickly made your way through the halls, hiding in rooms or behind pillars if you heard or saw anyone before they saw you. And when you finally made it to the throne room of the palace where the grand entrance to the village sat, you nearly collapsed at the sight of Ganondorf standing there, a secret stone embedded in his forehead and a frown on his features as though he was waiting for you.

"I hoped it wouldn't happen but a part of me knew you wouldn't be happy with the sudden changes." He claimed, approaching you carefully. Your hands tightened on the strap of your bag, taking a step back.

"What have you done Ganondorf?" You asked, your voice wavering. He only shook his head at your stubborn actions, keeping still so you wouldn't try to run past him yet.

"I did what I had to do my love. They would have taken you from me. They would have used the power of their secret stones to trap me away. And you and I would never get to meet again. I won't allow what happens to happen. So isn't it obvious I need to destroy and rebuild so none of what happened in your time will never come to pass." He stated, saying those words as though it was a necessity.

You felt sick, your hand coming down to your stomach as you thought of who he could have killed. It couldn't be Zelda, right? But who on earth did he?

You felt dizzy as you leaned against the wall for support, keeping your other hand out as a way to try and keep Ganondorf away.

He was surprised at your sudden state. He knew the news would shock you but not to this extent. It wasn't until Inesa happened upon the scene and quickly came to your aid.

"Your majesty! What are you doing up? You only collapsed yesterday you need to rest." She scolded. She noticed the tension but her main concern was your health. Tears filled your eyes as your knees gave out, your hand covering your lips as you struggled to stifle the sobs your throat wanted to scream.

Inesa may hold fear towards Ganondorf but she didn't want to see you like this so she stood up between you two, holding her arm out as though to shield you, "Your majesty, please understand that I mean no disrespect but her majesty collapsed yesterday you see. She is under a lot of stress and it isn't good especially considering her condition. Please permit me to escort her back to her quarters.".

Ganondorf didn't want some maid getting in the way of talking to you, but he could see how your shoulders shook and how much you mourned and so he allowed it, watching as you were gently led away to the bedroom.

He called over another maid, asking to bring the healer to him. He had no doubt that if you collapsed the healer would know about your condition.

And when not even fifteen minutes later Ganondorf came barreling through your bedroom doors with worry and excitement you knew it would be impossible to escape.

You watched as he drew closer to the bed, kneeling next to where you lay and putting his hand over your stomach.

You wanted to forget. A part of yourself wanted to live not knowing of what Ganondorf had done and just bury yourself into his arms. But you couldn't. You couldn't live in foolish ignorance like that.

You turned your head away from him, trying to think of other ways you could get out of his grasp. You needed to make sure Zelda was alright, you needed to help in any way you could.

Ganondorf felt hurt but held back, knowing that you could get even more upset due to the state you were in. So he merely relished in how you allowed him to be by your side and he hoped that in the coming months that you would be in a more fragile state he would get you to love him as he took care of you.

But unfortunate for some, one maid who still held the sight of you holding back sobs would overcome her fear of the very King she served.

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Inesa took the time to watch for a week of the new schedules the guards were put on and how Ganondorf acted around you.

She watched as you struggled to look at him and how at night you would wander your bedroom, pacing back and forth as you looked to Gerudo Canyon, past its vast mountains, and to the plateau where another kingdom lie.

So she kept watch and one night when Ganondorf was rushed with planning and preparation to take down the kingdom of Hyrule she woke you up, watching as you sat up and looked at her curiously.

"Come. I'm going to get you out of here." She claimed, a bag already packed of your things and clothes, another with hers and rations to keep you both satisfied through the trip.

You gave her a look of worry, not expecting Inesa to help you as you thought she would always follow Ganondorfs' rules and conditions. But you shook your worried thoughts from your head and nodded, taking her hand as you both began to run through the palace, finally coming to the stables where the horses and sand seals lay.

She got the horse ready and you thought for a moment before you started undoing all the stable locks, setting the horses and sand seals free so it would take a bit longer for them to realize what horse was missing and also cause enough chaos to let you leave.

Inesa held you in front of her on the horse and informed you that you would be taking a different route than usual, not wanting to get caught yet.

She went as fast as she could watching over your features to check for discomfort. And luckily you managed to keep mostly calm as you and Inesa rode through Gerudo Canyon.

And when you had finally made it out of the canyon you told Inesa to go elsewhere, to the temple you knew as the forgotten temple was undoubtedly the place they would go in times of war and tragedy.

It took extra time to get there, and you constantly worried about the chance of Ganondorf catching you. The fear of what he would do not only to Inesa but to hyrule stuck in your mind.

But as you reached the temple, the sight of Mineru speaking with one of the sages made you tear up, Mineru was surprised by your approach, her eyes sorrowful as she opened her arms. You quickly jumped off the horse, ignoring Inesas' worries, and leaped into Minerus' arms, crying as suddenly Zelda came into the picture.

Zelda looked just as sad until she saw you, quickly taking you into her arms before glaring at Inesa.

But you assured that without Inesa you wouldn't have been able to escape.

And after making sure you were okay, eventually, you were told that Sonia was dead.

The news saddened you more than you thought, a feeling of shock and despair running into you like waves. You couldn't help but sob at the revelation, which eventually led to her grave where a sundelion lay.

You came across Rauru and apologized, his sorrow written all over his features as he embraced you, glad that at least you were safe.

And then the planning of a fight began.

But as things were revealed and intentions laid bare, Ganondorf had nearly destroyed the palace, his rage uncontrollable at the fact you were gone.

How could you? How could you leave him? He knew you wanted peace, but peace was something foolish! He needed to destroy this world and create it anew. He wanted it for you and himself and the new life growing within you born from the love that you and he shared.

With a world where only someone as strong as him could keep you safe and sound, keep you fed and healthy and protected. Where only those who shared his ideals would thrive.

And yet one maid ruined it by bringing you out of his reach.

His anger knew no bounds as he finally prepared for another battle. He'd kill that foolish King and Zelda that could take you away. He'd make you realize you only had him. That you will stay by his side and love him just as you did when you cried and begged him to not call you crazy at the confession of where you came from.

And so a drawn-out battle began, many Gerudo villages falling and many citizens of Hyrule falling in the crossfire. It had only been two weeks and Ganondorf was proving that his power was far too strong and overwhelming.

You tried to think of ways to get him off gaurd, or to persuade him! But you kept having doubts and worries, and finally, when a battle was agreed upon in the depths of the central plains, you overheard the conversation between Rauru and Zelda.

The confirmation of Ganondorf as the man they found in the cave and the worry of what would happen to Rauru and the sages.

Upon hearing the conversation you couldn't help but feel like you were at fault. But another part of you wondered if such a thing was fate? That time was rewound but perhaps it was destined to happen?

That maybe the goddess Hylia gave us this chance to change the outcome of the future hoping that Link could overcome Ganondorf.

You followed Zelda to the final battle, knowing that you were nothing but a hindrance as you could not fight you stayed at the back of the army, helping tend to wounded soldiers and hoping that the rest could manage to fend off Ganondorf.

But something felt off. You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was about to happen. Your intuition was screaming at you to run, to warn Zelda and the rest.

So you did want any fool would do, you ran down the steps leading to the depths, running as fast as you could without the risk of falling, finding that the sages and Rauru were at their limit you screamed-

"Ganondorf!". The single use of his name was enough for him to turn around, and without a second thought the sages hurled their weapons at the Demon King. He brushed them off with annoyance, Zelda using her power of time to make them rush back at him before he lost his temper.

"I've seen this all before! And now-" He shouted, expecting Rauru at his front but unexpectedly Rauru appeared below him, just out of sight to deal a blow to his gut, Rauru's power and third eye unleashed then and there, overwhelming the Demon King.

"You bind my heart and steal my magic? You plan to hold me here like a fool to solve your problems... But are you ready to pay the price for this?"

Rauru smirked, determination lacing his tone, "Don't be so smug, I know exactly what it will cost me.".

You held your hands together, the sorrow of realizing what was happening as the scene in front of you unfolded. Zelda crying out Raurus' name, you couldn't move, stuck in place as you watched history unfold.

Ganondorf laughed, a large smile etched on his face, "Thousands of years will pass in the blink of an eye. You'll only delay the inevitable.".

But Rauru's brows furrowed and he stood his ground, "Years from now someone will appear with the sword that seals the darkness. A swordsman with the power to defeat you - Link."

"Remember this name."

Ganondorfs' eyes widened at the familiar name, his interest peaked at everyone's confidence in a mere Hylian.

Ganondorf was reminded of your journey with him and smiled, "Interesting... I look forward to meeting him..." He groaned out, struggling as he was finally sealed.

The light of his power dimmed and his body frozen in time, all his power taken. And Rauru's eyes dimmed, his final action as the founding King of Hyrule settled as his life was taken only to seal Ganondorf away.

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You and Zelda remained at the temple of time. You weren't sure what was to happen next, both you and Zelda mourning and comforting each other inside the temple.

You held your hand over your stomach, your heart aching at all the events that unfolded.

It was likely you would never see Ganondorf or Link and Purah, or let your child know the joys of the things you wanted them to know of the home you grew up in or the journey you went on.

You felt lost.

You and Zelda were in the temple of time when Zelda acted strange. You watched as she started going to the alter outside, as though being called by something.

"Zelda? What's happening what are you doing?" You asked, following her to the alter which glowed with the familiar light you saw only once when you and Zelda were brought back in time.

You watched as Zelda put her hands out, sensing something you couldn't as time turned before your eyes, and suddenly the decayed form of the master sword appeared in her hands.

You came close, startled by the sudden sight of the sword. That must mean that Link is okay! You smiled at the sight of the sword but Zelda looked solemn, something clicked in her mind that you didn't know.

"I know why I am here." Zelda claimed, her features full of determination.

She told you to stay there in the temple of time, quickly rushing off to who knows. But you stayed still, glancing at the altar before putting your hand down on the stone.

It was warm from the sun. You wondered why the master sword was sent back in time, why Zelda suddenly seemed so sure of what was to come.

Within the next day Zelda returned, you had slept inside the temple, sure that Zelda would return soon.

She laid the master sword on the altar and held the Purah pad in her hands, entrusting the item to a part of Mineru's spirit and then handing it to a helper construct.

You couldn't understand what was happening. Zelda had told you to stand at the front where the sword lay, telling you she was going to restore the master sword but she never told you how.

You watched as she stood in front of the sword, you staying by her side in front of the hilt of the blade.

"Link.. I will restore the master sword for you. I will care for it until the time comes. I will pour my power into it and it will be the weapon that defeats the Demon King." She stated.

You watched as she took the secret stone from her necklace, anxiety pooling inside your stomach at the sudden action.

You didn't understand until she spoke again, "You must..."

And suddenly she swallowed the stone, you took a step back, and the memory of Mineru discussing dragonification entered your mind, you covered your hand over your mouth in shock.

The skies turned grey and Zelda's power showed itself, the light coming off of her body enough to blind you, her power enhanced and she grasped the master sword before turning to you, a sorrowful look in her eyes as she pushed you, your back facing the ledge as you were pushed off, the similar light that enveloped you and brought you to this Era wrapped you once again.

And then you understood. To recover the master sword.. To send you back to warn Link.. Just before Zelda loses herself due to the overwhelming power and eternal life that would heal the master sword, she sent you back with the sudden enhancement of her power due to eating the secret stone.

Your body disappeared into a whirl of light and Zelda held the sword in a hug, looking to the sky, "Link! Protect them all!".

Those words you heard as time turned forward, tears spilling as your consciousness once again faded.

In the center of Lookout landing, among the newly appointed four sages and Link who discussed entering Hyrule castle with Purah, a sudden flash of light appeared, the familiar light made Link run.

While he knew it wasn't Zelda by the figure he still ran, catching you before you hit the ground. Your familiar sleeping face, your eyes slightly puffy still, and unfamiliar garbs.

Link was just glad to see one of you alive and held you close, his brows furrowed as he hugged you and then brought you to a place where you could rest inside of lookout landing.

Entering Hyrule Castle with the four sages would have to wait. He had to see what was going on first, as the tears and memories he picked up were yet to be complete.

He watched your sleeping figure and let out a small sigh, looking out the window of Purahs' room in Lookout landing and wondering where could Zelda be...

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere male #yandere male x reader #chubby reader #yandere totk #yandere totk x reader #yandere tears of the kingdom #yandere loz #yandere legend of zelda #yandere ganondorf x reader #yandere ganondorf #ganondorf x reader

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little-diable · 8 months

Note

Hi Chi! I hope your travels go well!!

I was wondering…could you do something for Tommy Shelby using feeling for the other's hand ??

Thanks so much in advance if you choose to!! 💕

Hi babe! Thank you for this 🤍

There were times when Tommy Shelby had allowed himself to dream. Minutes - sometimes even hours - where he let his thoughts run wild, allowing himself to dream of a life by far other than the one he was living.

He wouldn’t call it a better life, wouldn’t ever trade it for the one he was stuck in, and yet he longed for the world he got to built when silence engulfed his body and soul. A silence that allowed him to dream of her.

(Y/n) had been in his life for a while, pushed into the family by Arthur, the man whose life she had once saved. An act so selfless, the Shelby’s had instantly taken her in, not even giving her a chance to protest.

Not that she’d even dared to protest the second her eyes had met Tommy’s bright ones, lured in like a cigarette setting a gas station on fire. An inferno so vile, her soul had instantly formed a tie with his, not giving either one of them the chance to pull away.

And yet there was nothing more than longing glances, teasing words rolling off their lips, and racing hearts. Nothing more than a mere dream their minds kept replaying as if it was a book they’ve once read together.

“Tommy?” (Y/n)‘s soft voice ripped him out of his thoughts, exhaling the blue smoke of his cigarette. His eyes snapped towards her features, eyebrows slowly rising. “He’s here.”

He, a man (y/n) had once unwillingly crossed paths with, a man she wanted to flee from, disgusted by his overly touchy behaviour and the angry words trying to force her closer. The man frightened her, leaving her body trembling, finding shelter in Tommy’s closeness.

“Please don’t leave my side, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes wandered through the crowd of the gathering, looking at men wearing suits that were too expensive for their income, women with painted lips, colours that would be wiped away in a few hours like their memories of this very night, too drunk for their own good. And then his eyes found his, the man was already staring at the two of them from afar. Tommy had never spoken to him, and yet he knew everything about him.

He had researched everything he could find, had asked everybody who’d be able to spill secrets and details not made for ears like his. Tommy knew every dirty deal keeping the young man chained to the world of gangsters, a world he hadn’t been born into, a world he didn’t belong into.

“I’ll stay by your side, I promise.” His hand found hers, gently, carefully, lovingly. Slowly (y/n)’s eyes wandered down to their now interlaced fingers, trying to etch this moment into her mind. Her heart skipped a few beats, unable to bite down her smile as she let her eyes flicker back to his features.

With a smile of his own tugging on his lips, Tommy took another sip of his whisky, heart racing just as loud as hers. Perhaps this was more than a simple dream, more than a colourful painting his mind kept pushing through his thoughts. Whatever it was, he’d never let go of her soft hands, of the fingers now wrapped around his like a soft thread keeping pages tied to a book.

A dream turning real, slowly, carefully, figments taking on colour, one by one.

#Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Peaky blinders imagine

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stayandot8 · 9 months

Text

Defrost

Genre: angsty mess

Relationship type: idol!chan x reader

Important Contents: Thank you Jellybean. I hope this lives up to it. It's short but...eh...

WC: 1.5k

Part Two l masterlist

This apartment had dropped ten degrees since he left. No matter how much I turned up the thermostat, it was always freezing. The winter months had been the hardest, when no amount of layers would help. Bundled in several coats all day long and curling up on my couch with a hot mug was starting to become a habit, the norm. The frost of the previous night was slowly but surely starting to melt from the early spring sun.

Christmas time had been the worst. My family asked every question that was certain to rip my heart out all over again. A slew of ‘where’s Chris?’ or ‘when is Chan getting here? I’m excited to meet him’ everywhere I turned, impossible to escape. My mother had to intervene, the angel that she was. I couldn’t bring myself to answer their attacks, knowing no answer would suffice. I didn’t even have one myself, not really.

That night was a bur. All I could remember was my emotions taking control of my brain and my mouth. A flash of you’re home late again and I didn’t realize I had to answer to you and words coming out faster than either of us could think first about the repercussions, all things neither of us meant. Bitter tones, angry words, and a slammed door later, I told him I needed space. I didn’t mean months, but months I was given all the same. And then, he stopped completely. That was when I missed him the most. But by the time his calls and texts had faded, I was too late.

So now I was alone. Alone to face every holiday family gathering, every unbearable question, alone to fix this vice grip on everything good. Nothing helped. Not the condolence texts from his friends that had become like family while I was so far from mine. Eventually they stopped too, to be ignored at the bottom of my contact list. Sometimes I thought I missed them more than I missed him, but then I would find something of his left over in my pantry or bathroom and that thought would disappear faster than it came.

Today was no different than the past several months. Mug in hand and staring at the several books on my coffee table that I had started and left unfinished while trying to sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to pick one up, my favorite glaring at me from the center of it all. The comfort of the familiar pages was doing nothing for me. Nothing that used to bring me comfort from that time in my life, the need to find other things just another pressing matter to go to the top of the list.

Another thing to add, another day to get through, another passing hour to fill with menial tasks that mean nothing in the grand scheme of the pit that had become my life. Each day was the same, any day I wasn’t working was just looking forward to the next time I went in for something to fill my mind with. I believed the thoughts of him would die down eventually after all this time but they only dulled in how vivid they came back. Now they were just getting blurrier and fuzzier, details not coming in their entirety until I slept and my subconscious snuck them into my dreams. Then they came back in full force.

What I wasn’t expecting was a text from Hyunjin with a video attached.

Hyunjin: This is how it’s been. Please come home. We miss you.

The video was from a lower vantage point, clearly taken without the subject’s knowledge. The subject being my ex boyfriend, sitting at his desk at their studio and seemingly looking at the screen but not moving. His back was to the video so his face was hidden underneath the shadow of his hood pulled up.

“Chan-hyung?” A voice called from behind the camera. The hooded boy didn’t move, still staring at the screen. “Channie-hyung?” A few seconds passed, the image still the same, then the video ended and the picture of my ex was still on my palm-sized screen. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. It was the first time I’d seen him since he left. It was like I was still there, in his presence. I was sure if I just reached out, I could touch his shoulder and he would smile at me, like nothing had happened. Everything would be fine.

I couldn’t bring myself to click out of the video, so I just continued to stare until the screen became a blur and my cheeks were wet. I thought I couldn’t cry anymore, but as with everything lately, I was wrong. I hugged my phone to my chest and curled up against my couch pillow until I drifted off, chased by dreams of when my life was simpler, everything felt right, and I was in love.

My love was waiting for me, standing with his hands in his pockets, swaying to some song playing in his head and watching the people go by. His denim outfit was unusual but a welcome change to his wardrobe. The boardwalk was loud tonight, a carnival happening around me as I walked to him. The lights are bright and chatter even louder. Children walking around with cotton candy and all kinds of fried foods. I would have to convince him to try one with me, which wouldn’t take much. He always listened to me when it counted.

He was looking around expectantly. He had his closed-lipped smile on and his eyes were shining, from the reflection of the lights or something else that made my feet so light I was surprised I was still walking on the old wood. He was waiting for me, I just knew it. He was right there in front of me. If I could just get to him…

But the closer I got, the more he stayed at the same distance. Still waiting, still eager. I was walking, I knew it, but my feet weren’t moving. I looked down to see my feet now having some sort of gravitational pull of their own. I was lifting with all of my might, baffled by how this force had suddenly come to be, but it was no use. I glanced up to find him to call his name, somehow get his attention. But he was no longer leaning against the railing where I had spotted him. No, I thought. Not again.

I open my mouth to call his name but no sound comes out. My throat is empty of words, empty of air. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

My voice is lost. I am helpless. He is gone.

When my eyes finally cracked open, the tears I had cried in my subconscious broke the barrier into the real world. The trail of dried tears now made wet again. It was one thing to cry in my dreams, or nightmares, but for them to cross over and be made real…

I sat up, the moonlight now peering through my blinds. My empty cup sat on the table, as lonely as I felt. I was tired. I was so, so tired. Tired of being alone, tired of running from something I wanted. I wanted him back. I needed him. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

But it had been so long. Would he want to talk to me after all this time? Would he even have my number still? Was he trying to move one, but was unsuccessful?

Like me?

I moved my feet in the ground, finding a solid footing and relieved to feel no extra pull on them . It had been such a vivid dream, the beginning looking so familiar. One of our better days, that carnival was so fun. We both had eaten so much funnel cake that we got sick when we got home. Whether it was that or the four rides we went on after that, I didn’t know, but it was the first time I had the opportunity to take care of him for once. He didn’t let me very often, but seeing him lying on the bathroom tile awakened something in me that I couldn’t ignore. After that, I took any chance I could to do for him what he did for everyone else.

I missed that.

There wasn’t much else to do now. I could either stay in this place of severe depth, or do the one thing I knew would fix it. One of two things would happen: he would answer or he wouldn’t. I would have my answer either way.

I felt that familiar pull of gravity. Not on my feet but on my arms. And in the other direction. Before I could think too much, they were bringing the phone to my ear. It rang and rang and rang, going to voicemail eventually. I waited until the beep and said the only thing that came to mind.

“I miss you.”

And that was it. I hung up and left my phone on the table, going to my room where I could pretend I didn’t just do what I did. I ended up leaving it there all night long, trying to ignore it and drowning out my thoughts with mindless television and movies of peoples’ lives that felt much less complicated than mine.

Chan: I miss you too.

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malice-ov-mercy · 1 month

Text

Maskros

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x OFC (Mariah)

Content Warnings: art student au, 18+!, female nudity, implied past toxic relationship,

A/N: The pic that inspired this. And in typical me fashion, my original idea got abandoned. Can’t promise there will be a second part, but I still have some ideas floating about.

Word count: 2k

Tag list: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @agravemisstake @shroomfairy24 @cncohshit @dominuslunae @th4t-em0-k1d

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Lorna Shore!

Jolly Masterlist

Still as could be, Mariah sat under Jolly’s scrutinizing, concentrated stare. He studied every little detail of her figure, roaming over every imperfection and dip. Meticulous scribbling filled the space between them. Every so often, she flashed a quick, closed lip smile at him, trying to ease the nervous tension in her body. Each time he returned the gesture, her stomach flipped.

Jolly seemed completely oblivious and unfazed to Mariah’s nudity—which truthfully she was grateful for. She’d never modeled nude before, not even sent one. He was so kind and graceful, reassuring her that she was safe, and they could stop at any time. Jolly told her he’d just as happily sketch her fully clothed; it made no difference to him. He wanted nothing more than for her to feel comfortable.

He stopped his sketching, his brows furrowing as he stared intently at the page in front of him. Mariah watched curiously, hoping to commit his focused expression to memory. Squinted eyes looked at hers.

“Is something wrong?” Mariah asked, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Jolly rubbed his jaw, charcoal smudges being left behind by his fingers.

“I’m having trouble getting your tattoo,” he stated, eyes drifting to the dandelions between her breasts. “Could I get closer?”

Mariah offered a small smile and nodded. Jolly gathered his sketch pad and charcoal in his arm, and dragged the stool closer. She sucked in a short breath.

He now sat a little more than a foot away, close enough that she could smell the woodsy freshness of his cologne. It was like he collected the aroma from the forest itself. A subtle floral note tickled her nose as Jolly tied his hair back. His brown hazel eyes landed on her with a smile. Mariah’s heart pounded against her ribs. She wondered if he could hear it.

“Thank you, maskros,” Jolly said, busying himself once more with the drawing, “I promise to be quick.”

She tried not to think about how long his eyes lingered on her chest and how little he glanced at his sketch or how warm his concentrated stare made her skin.

Mariah snuck a glance at his work, only to find herself distracted by the practiced and skilled movements of Jolly’s fingers. Each tiny twitch, every minuscule adjustment he made was deliberate—even the way he held onto his sketch pad served an important purpose. If he noticed her own intense gaze, he hid it well.

Jolly shifted uncomfortably. He crossed his leg, accidentally kicking Mariah in the process. She jolted at the abrupt contact. Panicked, he reached for her, his hand gently squeezing the space above her knee. His touch sent a wave of warmth up her thigh that spread through her, setting somewhere deep in her chest.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Jolly unconsciously squeezed her knee again.

Her eyes landed on his hand, the softly calloused skin making her mind run wild. Heat spread across her face as images of him exploring her body flooded her head. She wondered how his lips would feel on hers, how ticklish his facial hair would be on her neck. Would he litter her skin in marks or leave her unblemished?

Jolly’s gaze followed Mariah’s. The realization he was touching dawned on him suddenly.

“Ah, sorry!” He apologized and pulled his hand away. Charcoal fingerprints were left behind. Jolly reached to hastily brush away the smudges but stopped, blabbering more apologies for touching her.

His obvious concern and panic of his actions made Mariah giggle. Jolly looked at her like a deer in headlights, then eased into an embarrassed laugh.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to kick or… touch.”

Mariah smiled sweetly. “It’s fine, honest.”

Jolly matched her expression. Silence filled the space between them. Mariah rubbed the marks on her knee, letting her mind wander again but less freely. Absent-mindedly, Jolly fiddled with the edge of his sketch pad, using it to wipe away the mess on his fingers. An ache formed in Mariah’s shoulders that slowly crept through the rest of her body.

“Do you mind if we take a break?” She spoke quietly.

“Of course.”

Quickly, Jolly stood and neatly placed his supplies on his stool. He stepped around her with a small smile, reaching for his wine red sateen robe draped on the back of his desk chair. The warmth Mariah felt earlier returned when their fingertips brushed. Jolly averted his eyes as she shrugged on and secured the robe. It swallowed her whole. There was room for an entire other person inside.

“I think this might be a little big.” Mariah held out her arms and chuckled.

Jolly gave her a once over, a lopsided smile on his face.

“You’re welcome to put your clothes back on,” he gestured to her neatly folded clothes on his desk.

“I’ll be fine in this, thank you.”

His smile softened.

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

Mariah beamed. “I am, I promise. You’ve made me feel very safe.”

She swore she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Good, good.” Jolly glanced around his studio, searching for something to focus his attention on other than his heart hammering against his ribs and the beauty in red stealing his breath.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her long. The rich, green hazel staring back captivated him. Rings of gold haloed around Mariah’s pupils, so bountiful and pure, royals alike would start wars just for the promise to gaze upon it. He dared not tell her how exceptional she looked in his robe, like a goddess straight from mythology. The deep red complimented her eyes and warm complexion in ways he only read about. He was a man of desires and needs, but her comfort came before that. Jolly prided himself on his composure, but damned he be in her presence.

The fullness of her plump lips, the immaculate way her dandelion tattoo accentuated her perky yet small breasts, her lone freckle just below her left breast. God, what he would give to feel her skin under his lips, see her writhing and gasping his name as if she was praying.

“Jolly?” Her raspy yet angelic voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He broke from his salacious delving daydreams.

He found himself momentarily blinded by her bright smile.

“I asked if you have anything to eat. I’m a little hungry.”

Jolly picked at the assortment of fruits in his bowl. All he could focus on was the way Mariah’s lips curved around the strawberries. She swiped her thumb over her bottom lip, collecting the lingering juice and honey before mindlessly licking it away. Silently, he chastised himself for the way his body reacted.

“These are some of the best strawberries I’ve ever had.” Mariah said, her eyes fluttering shut as she tossed the rest of the berry in her mouth.

“They’re from a local market.” Jolly popped a few blueberries. “All the fruit is.”

She hummed. “That would explain why I like the blueberries. I’m always disappointed in the store bought.”

Jolly watched her trace a finger around the rim of her bowl. He kept his eyes glued to her hand as she plucked a blackberry and brought it to her mouth. The tip of her tongue poked between her lips, lightly licking at the honey before biting. Dark red lined her inner lips and trickled down her chin.

Mariah hastily covered her mouth, embarrassed by her mess. Jolly hurried to reach for a napkin and stepped beside her. Without hesitation, he pulled her hand away and softly grabbed her jaw. He tilted her head back, gently wiping away the juice from her chin and lips. Delicate pink brushed her cheeks.

Once more, Jolly found himself lost deep in her eyes, willingly letting himself fall under her spell.

“Jolly?” She whispered.

Jolly tilted her head down then back again, studying the way the green and gold in her eyes shifted in the lighting.

“Your eyes are gorgeous.”

Mariah’s blush deepened. “Thank you. Yours are pretty too.”

He hadn’t realized how close their faces became until the soft, sweet scent of fruit and honey filled his nostrils. The sudden urge to kiss her almost overwhelmed him, but he restrained. Her eyes danced between his while he hoped the quick flick to her lips wasn’t obvious.

“You can kiss me.”

The words froze Jolly in place. He looked back to Mariah’s eyes just as hers fell to his lips.

“Are you sure?” He pulled away from her, but only enough so he could fully look at her face.

Unwavering certainty saturated her gaze.

“Yes,” she said with a confident nod. “Kiss me.”

It sounded more like a demand than request. Either way, Jolly was happy to oblige.

He grasped Mariah’s chin with his thumb and index finger. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting expectantly. The thudding of his heart deafened his ears. It kicked into overdrive as he leaned down, the erratic rhythm pumping through his blood.

Pillowy, plush softness greeted his lips. A gentle, lingering peck is all Jolly offered despite the burning desire to devour her. Radiant hazel peered at him through long lashes. He tugged at her bottom lip with his thumb, prompting Mariah to keep them parted.

“Kiss me again,” the quiet, sultry sound of her command stoked the steady growing heat in his loins.

Soft and slow, he slotted their lips together. Divine sugary sweetness filled his mouth. They ate the same fruits, but the taste was far better on her tongue. Jolly trailed his hand to the side of Mariah’s neck, delicately stroking his thumb along her jaw and settling it to the rapid pace of her pulse. He was glad to know he had a similar effect on her—though he hoped her palms were less sweaty. His other hand found her waist and he pulled her a smidge closer, the cool sateen a welcomed contrast against his skin.

Mariah easily followed Jolly’s lead. Much like him, she savored the berries and honey on his breath, delectable and delicious. She didn’t expect his kiss to be so gentle and calm with the heated intensity of his stare. An overwhelming blend of emotions flowed through her, making her mind race and head spin. She latched onto his hips, desperate to keep herself grounded.

The material of Jolly’s shirt was softer than she expected. Mindlessly, Mariah ran her hands from the hem up to his chest and down again. Jolly took it as an invitation to slip his hand higher and trail his kisses along her jaw then under, until he reached the base of her neck. She gripped his sides harsher than intended with a loud gasp.

“Jolly—“ Her breathless call of his name went straight through him.

He pressed more into her space, seeking more, only to be weakly pushed back.

Heavy panting filled the air between them. Jolly feared he crossed a line and took a large step back, allowing Mariah the space she needed. Her eyes were closed as she collected her thoughts and breaths.

“I’m sorry.” Mariah said after a long moment of silence. He could sense she felt guilty.

“Don’t apologize,” Jolly started to reach for one of her hands but hesitated. “I… feel I’m the one who owes an apology.”

“No, no. You’re fine,” Mariah took it upon herself to grab Jolly’s hand and laced their fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I just… it’s been… a while and my last experience wasn’t the most pleasant.

“The guy was a real asshole about it,” she continued. “He was more worried about himself and focused mostly on him. He blamed me for not being able to get off because it couldn’t possibly be his fault.”

Jolly listened intently. He noticed water welling in her eyes and quickly reached for the berry stained napkin. Mariah sheepishly accepted the gesture, dabbing away the wetness before it could trickle down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.” Mariah laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Not very cool of me.”

He offered a sympathetic smile. “I still think you’re pretty cool.”

The sound of her laugh made his smile grow wider. Jolly wanted to kiss her again, but instead he carefully wrapped her in a snug, comforting embrace. She clung tightly to him, grateful for his reassurance.

#jolly karlsson x ofc #jolly karlsson fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfic #jolly karlsson fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

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majeoeje · 3 months

Text

Start over

Megumi x reader (male implied reader)

I wished we were two other people more times than everytime you had forgotten about me

"You have really pretty lashes"

Megumi has heard you uttered these words countless of times before, at first he didn't harbor a lot of opinion on this, but now it serves as a painful reminder that he had to start over with you once again. But even now he can't comprehend how to respond other than a simple thank you

"You're Fushiguro right?"

"That's correct"

here we go again, he thought

"It's nice to meet you, i hope we can get along" you gave a lazy smile before entering your shared dorm room, all beat up from your previous fight as if it was just another day.. well you pretend that it was everytime because what else can you do? You once had told him

"Yeah...it's nice to meet you too" he told you. As if he was in a same play for who knows how many times

Megumi had lost count on how many times you had introduced yourself to him, he knew everything about you. Yet you're here asking about his name once again. Your cursed technique is the one to blame for this strange dynamic

That being said, your curse technique transfers memories into curse energy and a technique which grant their wielder the power to imbue a weapon of their choice with curse energy and a guarantee that it would cut anything as if it wasn't there

A cheap cost to pay for power, some would say. But he always watches the fear in your eyes everytime it has to come down to it, afraid you might use it too much to the point you'll forget how to breath.

Afraid...yes you were always afraid. Afraid that your life would succumb to nothing but blank pages of nothing. To the point you'd write every last detail of your day until late at night so that at least your days could amount to something. Even if it were as simple as you went outside and train like how you usually do.

"I'm kind of hungry, you got anything to eat?" You said perking up your head from the non-fiction book you curiously skimmed up from Megumi's bookshelve trying to gather information from the stranger in front of you

"Gojo-sensei dropped some apples earlier, suit yourself" he said pointing to a basket from the corner of his desk remembering how the unusual white haired man hasn't change over the years

"Well don't mind me" you say, picking one up before looking for a something on your side of the room

You didn't have to go through a lot before Megumi tapped you on the shoulder making you face him

"Looking for this?" He pointed to a small knife on his hand

"Oh thanks a lo-"

you didn't even finished your sentence before he took the apple from your hand

"Your hand's fractured, Miss shoko said you shouldn't try to move it a lot in the mean time"

He said, pulling a nearby chair before he started to peel the apple for you. Just how you liked it.. a prefrence that has never changed no matter how many times you've erased your memories

"Aye you did it in one peel, impressive" you commented "How'd you know that i like my apples peeled?"

"You made me do it for you for months when you broke 7 bones on your body" he said handing you the peeled fresh fruit

"Eh, really? Tell me about it" you rested your hand on your desk as you sat comfortably on your chair as if you were getting ready to catch up to an old friend after not meeting them for years. And despite how bad he think his storytelling abilities was, Megumi couldn't disappoint that glimmer in your eyes, never.

"That day you saved me from a first grade curse" he started, as you bit into your freshly peeled apple

"you used up your curse technique to the point you forgot how to wield your weapon"

Megumi was not one to run his mouth, he preferred to listen most of the times. But in times like this, he feels the need to encapture every detail about that period of time as much as possible. And in turn, you'd listen to his voice, tuning in his gentle tone. Perhaps you got distracted at some point but that is surely not your fault

"We must've been pretty close" you grinned, hearing him finished his story

"We were"

You were practically attached to the hip from middle school, so it'd be a lie to say you weren't. But on the darkest pit of his heart he still wished you two was so much more even after knowing you like the back of his hand. How you'd swing your weapon in such way as if you were a dancer, how you'd give a lame excuse on how you peeled too much orange or apples just to get him to eat , how you purposely talk to him to keep him out just to watch a horror movie program in the middle of the night, how you'd play your music loud enough to cause hearing problems when he's not at the dorm, how he knew that you were just assigned a roomate to exploit your Curse technique, how disconnected you truly are from the world, how you'd laugh, how you'd cry, how your skin would make him shiver everytime it touches his

There was never enough of you for him really. Yet he'd wished for the impossible everytime

"So..what's your curse technique?" You asked and he would always answer

Just what was one more start?

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x male reader #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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brakke-dino · 1 year

Text

What are you doing?

Spider was left to his own in the Recoms hang out, while they dealt with what was apparently private matters. Spider jumped on the couch and laid waiting there watching the fan, until in the corner of his eye he spotted something. A blank notebook and to his luck a pen as-well “What a score!!” Spider cheered to himself.

Without hesitation Spider began drawing, all his favourite things in the forest in extreme detail. There was drawings of Kiri, Lo’ak, Tuk and Neteyam throughout it to drawn with big eyes and every detail down to there glowing dots and beads in there hair. Spider was proud of himself because this was his first time drawing with a pen, and he liked the weird smell it made.

While Spiders head was stuck in his new Sketchbook slowly filling the pages, he hadn’t noticed the 6hrs that went by he didn’t even know if he had changed positions. He also didn’t notice the two tall Na’vis enter the room, but he did notice when one sat on the couch by his feet, giving Spider a scare as he didn’t notice them. “What are you doing there?” Quaritch asked pointing to the notebook.

Of course it was Quaritch, Spider looked behind Quaritch their was Lyle the iconic duo. “Non of your business!” Spider replied not wanting to talk and continue drawing. Spider closed the book so Quaritch couldn’t catch a peak, Spider put the book behind his back.

“Everything you do here is my business, how do I know your not planning my murder!?” Quaritch held out his had expecting Spider to just give to up. Spider was not giving up his secret that easy, no way. “Show me Spider!” Quaritch added how getting impatient.

Spider looked at Lyle one more time, he was looking for some support but he knew Lyle wouldn’t help him. Quaritch grabbed Spider reaching for the book, in shock Spider held the book out of Quaritch reach. Are they really about to do this, they started wrestling Quaritch trying to get the book and Spider keeping it out of his reach pushing and wriggling around. “Little help here Lyle!” Quaritch shouted as Lyle stood there laughing.

With the orders Lyle picked Spider up by the feet, Spider dangled death gripping the book. Quaritch gave Spider a little tickle and with that Spider stoped the book, and Lyle put him down. Quaritch began flickering through the pages “Why hide this?” Quaritch asked holding up the page with a drawing of Kiri, showing him and Lyle.

“Because it’s private!!” Spider yelled snatching his book back. Spider stomped over to the bin and chucked the book out, then continued to the toilet locking the door. Quaritch looked at Lyle then walked over to the bin retrieving Spiders book, Lyle and him went through all of Spider’s book. They raised some suspicion at the same girl drawn multiple times. they ripped out what they thought was the 5 most best, then hung them on the fridge as high as possible so Spider couldn’t rip them off.

All the Recoms were back and started cooking dinner, Spider walked out to see what the noise was and to his horror he saw them all gathered around the fridge. They were looking at his art, how? He had thrown it out. He looked over to Quaritch and Lyle who had smug looking faces holding up Spiders book. Spider ran over to the fridge and tried to pull off the drawings, they laughed at his failed attempts because he was to short but he eventually climbed the fridge and grabbed them. He stormed over to Quaritch and grabbed his book putting the drawings back, he was glad they retrieved it but he was mad he put it on display. “There’s more show us your talent kid!” Z-dog yelled as Spider sat on the couch with his book.

Spiders face was red of embarrassment, he sat there hiding his face in his knees and book holding it as hard as he could. Every one crowded Spider asking to see his art, tugging at spiders book. How could Quaritch do this to him not only look threw his book but show it to everyone now look at his situation. Spider began panicking they were all swarming around him, last time this happened was when Spider was a kid and had kept a little bracelet he made from the Sully’s and they wanted to see it. “Guys give him space I’m sure he’ll show you if he feels like it” Quaritch commented Sitting next to the kid. Spider was saved they all took a seat giving spider space.

They all looked at Spider as he lifted his head moving his book. “I -um. I will show some of you know and some after dinner?” Spider offered they all nodded and with that half of them left leaving a small group. This was okay Spider could deal with this. Spider went through his book with everyone explaining every sketch, Spider was actually loving this soaking up all the praise he got. Quaritch was glad to see Spider happy and enjoying himself he felt bad for what he did at first but now he was glad he did.

Hope you enjoyed this. Some little fluff compared to the others iv been writing lately :) I know what it’s like too have a personal book and someone just go threw it without asking (most teachers). Once again hopefully you enjoyed this one shot :)

@today-or-tumble @nashichiyo @naavispider @dirtytransmasc @yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation

#avatar the way of water #spider miles socorro #spider socorro #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #lyle wainfleet #funny #spider needs a hug #z dog #colonel quaritch

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cookierin-simp · 2 years

Text

SH33PCH4N_! - A DIRTY FANFICTION OF OBEY ME

Part 1

In which : you pursued as an 18+ cam girl in the human world

pairing: Lucifer X fem reader

a/n : hiii I'm back and honestly, I think this one, there aren't much of dialogues. I promised to include more dialogue for sh33pch4n part 2!

"have you seen it, Mammon? "

Asmodeus said as he held his brother's palm for a free manicure. It wasn't just the two of them in the House Of Lamentations living room. There are seven of them there with their activities. Though they didn't mind their own business, of course, it was a very lively living room when all of them gathered together.

Beel was chowing down almost all of the food that was worth 30 years of stock. Belphegor, on the other hand, was trying to sleep on the couch but kept getting disturbed by the noises so he was very irritated and decide to engage in a conversation with Satan, talking about how to prank Lucifer with the love potion. The blonde demon, who was reading a book about human mental health, marked the last pages he was reading and closed them. His interests were piqued by the way Belphie drafted the idea. Asmodeus and Mammon were in their bonding moment. The peach-haired demon was showing Mammon all of his white nail polish collections from expensive to overpriced. The manicure session turned into a heated gossip.

The sound of the RPG game came from Leviathan DevilTendo as he kept bragging about how much he had progressed from level one to level 30 in three days. Lucifer was just... there. He thought he need to spend more time with his family so he just sits there and exists. As he sipped his poisonous tea (which was his favourite ) and thanks to Leviatahan, he can relax with classical music as the lotan commander lend him his noise cancelling headphones.

Noisy couldn't describe the situation. It was deafening, it was ear-splitting and yet it is a normal thing in that mansion.

Asmo went for Mammon's sweet finger as he painted it carefully while he whispered very quietly to his brother's ear. "have you watched it? "

Mammon respond with his expression as he reveals the wrinkles on his face which means 'what the fuck are you talking about'

Asmodeus pinched the white-haired demon's hair as he yelped with pain. "Ouch, ya goddamn demon stop it! " he whimpered.

Asmodeus whispered again "THAT video" and Mammon's face emitted soft red at his face when he finally understood what video was his little brother referring to.

"uh... I... y...yeah" Mammon covers his face with the back of his hand. He felt so hot to his ears whenever he remembered every detail of the video that Asmo shared.

"it was magnificent, isn't it? " one of Asmo's eyebrows lifted as he shot a sly grin to tease Mammon because, for him, it's such an amazing view to see anyone, no matter if it was a demon, an angel or a human to blush over dirty thoughts. Plus, the smell of someone getting aroused is extremely aromatic, and he smells a hint of it from Mammon.

"do you remember what her voice sounds like and how it bounces? Oh my god, she's ethereal. I have known the aphrodite for a while and sometimes I feel like she was at the same aphrodite level of beauty and seduction. She may even exceed! " Asmo squealed, clearly forgetting he was doing Mammon's nail

Mammon covers his already rose-tinted face with one palm as Asmodeus kept talking about how amazing the video was.

"but are you sure it was y/n? " the embarrassed demon asked.

Lucifer heard your name and to him, everything stops.

Though the music was still blasting, your name still get ahold of the pride demon. It triggers everything in him. His emotions, his desires, his needs and his memories.

He acts normal and shows no interest in Mammon and Asmo's conversation. But he did turn off the classical music he was playing to listen. Well, a little eavesdropping would not hurt, right?

Asmo motioned a 'shhh' to Mammon. He pinched Mammon's ear again and whispered something that even Lucifer couldn't hear.

"oh come on, they were all so occupied with their own thing, they didn't hear everything I just said! " the yellow-hued eyes demon tries to be convincing but Asmo for one didn't buy it.

Deep inside Lucifer's mind, he was racing with one thought.

"What is happening with y/n that I did not aware of?"

__________________________________________________________

Lucifer's pride was hurt. He was more than furious. If he never trains to maintain himself, he would have turned into his demon form and crashed Mammon's door to see what is he up to.

How dare Mammon kept you as a secret like it was his little playtime toy. Lucifer always mentally labelled you as his and his only. The thought of someone else keeping you a secret left a scar on his sin.

But just as he wanted to relax in his bedroom, he heard a lewd tone through Mammon's door. He was always aware that all of his brothers masturbated and sometimes it annoys him that they never knew how to keep quiet at night. He also pleased himself a few times but he made sure to be silent about it.

To think nothing of it, Lucifer brushed off the moan until he realised it was a women's tone.

Who could Mammon possibly let her in, without his permission and have sex? Lucifer's eyes filled with rage along with a black diamond appear at the centre of his forehead.

He was more than ready to bang on his sweet brother's door until he realised the moan glitched and for a few seconds, it returned to normal.

He didn't invite any girl, he was watching porn.

But the rages didn't end there as Lucifer realised that tone was recognisable. It was from someone he could never forget, someone he was always smitten with and vowed to protect her even if it means him dying most embarrassingly.

It was your voice.

Of course, to acknowledge your voice of moan made his breath stuck in that demon's throat. He felt his chest tightening. Was the faint sound of you begging for more just a mere hallucination? Yes, Lucifer did miss you. In fact, the word missing wasn't exaggerated enough. He craves your scent and for every howled of Devildom's air blowing his hair, the old feeling of your finger running through his fur aches his heart.

He missed you more than anything. Sexually and romantically.

Yet to hear a moan exactly like you, he cursed at himself. What porn sites did Mammon search to find someone who could replicate your sex voice?

He doesn't want to walk away from it. Instead, the pride demon who has himself overtaken with lust leans towards Mammon's door. His crotch formed a tent and it hurt to not touch it. He was tempted by the voice. He's tempted to stroke his cock.

Lucifer was baffled. It's been almost a year since you went back to the human world and he never had sex with other succubi just to save the dick for you. Well, he did masturbate a few times and it's all thanks to the thoughts of you sucking him all dry whenever he's on bed.

"fuck it" he whispered as he unbuckled his expensive pant. His cock was out. All hardened and throbbing by the sound of you. His precum was leaking, he was in a complete pathetic state by just the sound of yours. The fact it was just your voice, just imagine if he saw your body.

As he didn't waste his sense of hearing, he kept listening through his brother's door.

"mmm... you would like that won't you? " the voice spoke in the most seductive tone. Every word was utter with a whine which make perverted Lucifer completely out of control.

Lucifer's right-hand storke his dick in slow motion, making sure to follow the breath of the voice moan. His mind pictured your face, truly and no doubt that it was your voice. Does that mean Mammon have your sex tape? If yes, why can he have the same treatment? Is it because Mammon was your first?

"n.. not there... you're going to make a mess!! " the lewd tone causes Lucifer to massage his cock a little bit rougher. "ha.. y/n.. " now it was his turn to whimper.

"shit, please suck me... " the demon begged in silence as his hand still sinned down there. He remembered the last time your pussy wall felt around his cock skin. The way his dick pumped whenever he thrust it deep inside of you and the euphoric feeling when the tip of his penis hits the deep end of your pussy.

He remembered it all in detail the day he fucked you. The way you screamed his name, the needy beg for more and the taste of your sweat. The voices, it's definitely you.

As his mind played the old sex of you and him, he was already out of his breath yet his stroke game is still going on. Lucifer closed his eyes as he realised he was in his climax soon. The voice kept on cursing dirty words and it triggered Lucifer to cum even faster.

"you.... ah fuck... can come.. inside of me.. " that danger line was finally out.

The thoughts of you letting him breed inside excite the firstborn. He always dreamed to fill your pussy with his loaded, stuffed you like a pie with vanilla cream inside. If you agreed, he would love to be a father to your kid. He'll spoil you so much when you're pregnant with his very first child. The idea of creating a family with you always will be a dream that only happened when he fell asleep.

"oh, y/n... " Lucifer felt as if his stomach almost untied the knot. "I... I'm going to c...come..." his needy tone was faint as a cautious so he'll not get caught acting like Asmodeus. "come.... inside of you... "

By the time he finished the sentence, his moan was all out. Luckily his other hand covered his mouth or else, Asmodeus will definitely take advantage of his vulnerability right now.

"nggh... " to avoid traces of his thick cum staining the HoL's carpet, he uncovered his mouth and bring the palm down to the tip of his twitched cock. Lucifer's eagerly pumped all of his seeds out as the cum gathered on his palm.

"hhnngh.. " he took one last breath, realising he's now feeling so hot from all of that adrenaline that kicks in during his masturbation process.

He peeked the semen onto his hand and smirked: "this is all your fault y/n"

__________________________________________________________

The family breakfast was quite the usual. Mammon babbling about the casino, Asmodeus having a live stream of his breakfast, Beelzebub basically consuming three-course meals, Satan with his mature act by eating while reading, Belphie who is awake because he accidentally slept in a soup and now his face was all wet, Leviathan was still in his room as he stayed up last night and Lucifer who is going through his files of paperwork even when it's breakfast which annoys you sometimes.

"I think I can finish 100 paperwork by the time the clock hits 6 pm" Lucifer's face expressed joy as he said that to himself. He put the paper back into the file and gently locked it as the paper was supposed to be confidential.

BRRR

A notification came through Mammon's DDD but the second demon was too occupied with laughter as he saw how pissed Belphegor was when his face dunks inside the soup.

sh33pch4n_ posted a new video!

Lucifer's eyes locked at his brother's DDD and somehow, the username sounds familiar, it felt like someone somehow once uttered it to him.

Lucifer's forehead create thousands of wrinkles when he tried to remember every single creature he ever met for the past 8000 years just so he could recall the username.

Until he remembered how you once told him with joy when both of you playfully suggested a pet name.

"so... can I call you Luci? " you carved a smile along with displaying your teeth. Your eyes emit pretty orbs and Lucifer couldn't say no to that.

"fine, but do it only when we're alone" the so-called demon agreed nonchalantly as if this discussion weren't mattered, but he actually look forward to it.

"and for me......let's see.... " your finger brushed your chin as a sign of trying to think of the best pet name.

"babe would be lame, baby? I am not a kid. Sayang? You wouldn't understand that language..... " you mumbled alone while eyes locked on the floor of Lucifer's office in RAD.

Suddenly, just as if the bulb appeared above your head, you finally have a pet name for Lucifer to call you.

"sheep! " you smiled

"sheep? " Lucifer confused

"People always go with kitty, and you preferred me to call you a sheep? " he continued

You nod with the most beautiful smile placed on your face. The pride demon can't do anything about it. What's your wish is his wish too.

"It's okay, my sheep, as long as you're happy"

_______

"uh oh"

and so, he stood up, alerting all of the brothers that he needs to leave early as he have a private meeting with Diavolo. His breakfast was untouched and there were no lip prints on his cup either.

"at least have some before you go" Mammon suggested because he knew it would be hell to handle a big thing when you're not filling yourself up with some foods or snacks. It's common sense to acknowledge the danger of starving. It's not like Beel should only be the one who knows about starving and all.

"I am fine, excuse me"

Lucifer left the dining room without thinking twice.

__________________________________________________________

"Karasu, download StripTwitch "

Lucifer used the technology of a personal system for DDD that will listen to what you'll say. It's like having a butler, but trapped inside a phone!

"StripTwitch is the only app for 18+, are you sure to continue? " Karasu spoke again through the speaker of Lucifer's DDD. It was a human word app and it's safe to say how much of Ruri-chan merch Levi got for modifying Lucifer's phone so he can also have access to human world entertainment. He was driving, which explained why he's using the feature right now. His stylish car has a hint of masculine fragrance. He placed a phone holder on the dashboard near the steering wheel. He gripped the black steering wheel with one hand as the other one lay down on his thigh.

"yes" he met with a road bend and slightly turn the steering to the left. "And please Karasu, after you've done that, create my account with a fake name and follow sh33pch4n_"

________________________

a/n : do inform me if you are interested for part 2!

________________________

#obey me shall we date #obey me #mammon obey me #mammon x mc #om! mammon #lucifer obey me #obey me smut #obey me prompts #obey me lucifer #obey me!#lucifer obey me x reader #lucifer smut #lucifer x mc #smut obey me #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #shall we date lucifer #smut

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inourselveswetrust · 1 year

Note

Alright straight to the point

TW Mc dies

Now Mc died how that’s up to you but Mc has never allowed the ROs close emotional to them and is very closed off but one day they died.

The ROs get a mail delivery and it’s Journals. Dozens of them. The Mc wrote every feeling they had in it. Including on how they feel about them. The last page says who they will tell the Ro how they feel.

You don’t have to do this i just thought about it as an ask. Was writing my own story and this came up for a character and I thought perfect ask. Maybe.

Anon's out here trying to collect my tears 💀

This was written at 3am so it's definitely terrible, but I hope you enjoy anyway! ❤️

The journal falls from August’s grip, landing on the floor like lead weight. August stares at the furthest wall of their living room with an absent gaze, they remain unmoving for perhaps minutes, maybe hours. They don’t know, they don’t care.

Swallowed by a sudden, all-consuming rage, a roar escapes August as they stand to their feet and tip the coffee table. The sound of glass shattering and objects being thrown is all that can be heard in August’s home. Their home is torn apart when they finally collapse to the ground, exhausted and not even slightly relieved.

August is inconsolable. Nothing – not a single thing – would repair their shredded heart. They remain in their home for weeks, refusing visitors and withdrawing contact from everyone. They will never be the same again, rather a mere angry, bitter shell of who they used to be.

A world without you is not one worth enjoying or exploring. The journals remain on August’s nightstand, an August reads through them every single night until sleep steals their consciousness.

___

Tears gather in Blair’s eyes, burning and reminding them of their failure. The tears fall freely, Blair doesn’t try to withhold them. Every tear is homage, a token, to you – an acknowledgement to you. Withholding them would be a disgrace, a dishonour to you.

A strangled gasp escapes Blair as their tears splatter on the pages of your journal, marring the ink. Blair quickly, but gently, drops the journal on the tabletop as if the journal has burnt their skin. Tiredly, they roughly rub the palms of their hands across their face wiping away their tears, spreading the wetness across their face. Guilt churns within them as they stare at the blemished page, bile threatening to escape their stomach.

They spend days in their home reading every page. They allow themselves to feel everything – smiling at the happy entries, laughing at the entertaining entries and crying when the emotions become too much.

They bury themselves into work, entering and exiting the office wearing a stoic mask each time. Gone are their smiles and polite conversations with each person they pass.

The journals remain safely tucked in Blair’s bedside table’s drawer. They deny themselves reading the journals a second time for months, desperately avoiding the feelings they stir, but one day they’ll cave. They’ll take weeks off work afterwards.

___

Wren stacks the journals on their table, refusing to touch them for weeks. The books taunt them, temptation swirling in their thoughts, yet they know reading the entries means admitting you’re gone. It means accepting you’re gone, and they’ll never do that.

They do anything to avoid thinking about your death, opting to keep themselves occupied with meaningless errands and hobbies. Though, eventually, on a rainy day, when the walls feel as if they’re closing in on them and their boredom cannot grow any further, they’ll hesitantly begin scouring the journals.

An uncharacteristic anger brews deep within them as they read your words. Why couldn’t you tell me this? Why did I have to find out this way? They would give anything to hear how you feel from your lips. They would give anything to hear your voice again. They read every entry without interruption, refusing to eat or sleep and willing themselves to memorize every detail – every word you use, the curve in your writing, the space between each letter.

Your journals become their most treasured possession, secured in a box in their closet where no one can find them, where no other person can invade you and your feelings. They read every page again and again, until they have them engrained in their mind.

___

Neve clutches the journals close to their chest, imagining it is you who they’re holding. Tears pour from their eyes; their body shakes with each sob that escapes them. They cry until sleep embraces them, offering relief from the pain weighing them.

It isn’t until hours later when they wake, still clutching the leather bound journal in a firm grip. The tears begin again, returning with vengeance as if they never stopped. Every muscle aches, sore from the sobs wracking Neve’s body, yet nothing hurts more than their heart.

It takes weeks before they can get past the first page without breaking down. Tears are endless as they scan each page, a hollow throb making itself at home in their chest. Neve has always felt the world is bleak, yet never have they felt this hopeless.

Neve places your journals on their bookshelf, nestled alongside their favourite novels. There is no author they adore more than you. They cry every time they read your journals, a familiar agony growing within them each time.

#anon ask #ro ask #tw death

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iheartchv · 2 months

Note

Hi, I was wondering If I could get a cod matchup?

Im Ecuadorian-American. I’m an INFP, and I speak English, Spanish, and French. I’m also starting to learn Mandarin Chinese.

I’m 5’8, with dark brown hair that almost looks black, and brown eyes.

I have a HUGE extended family, but they don’t live in the US. Im from New York.

Personality-wise, I’m very shy and quiet, being selective of who I make my friends. Once I do though, I become very close to them. I’ve been described as a hidden treasure, like a pearl one might even say.

I am a bit of a nerd, (I even wear glasses, but they’re not too strong), I love playing COD (if you couldn’t already tell,) and Magic: The Gathering. I also like to draw, but have a mini panic attack when I see the prices of sketchbooks and charcoal pencils.

My music taste can only be described with “emotional whiplash,” because I love songs that sound very happy but have super dark lyrics. Aside from that, I love pop, Latin and Afro pop, EDM and RNB

My love language is mostly gifts and quality time. If I’m really close to someone, it’s physical touch. In public, I’ll do something discretely, like holding somebody by their pinky. If it’s hidden, like under a table. I’ll be a little more daring, like putting my hand on their thigh.

Hope you have a good day! Take care of yourself, and sorry if this is a lot to take in!

//i tried to finish this before going to work; wifi at work sucks big time >3>

🤔 I'll match you with...

König 👑

I think you'd be paired with König

Scenario time:

Let's say you're in the military (your choice of what field/what you specialize in)

König and some of his Kortac comrades came by to talk with Captain Price

Kortac was thinking of borrowing some of TF 141 for a mission

König walked around the base, looking for those he saw fit; you were one of those soldiers/specialists

That's when he met you

And when his eyes met yours, for some reason, he felt something wash over him.. it was strange

🤍

At first it might seem like nothing is happening between you two, what with you both keeping to yourselves

Until he sees you with a sketchbook and a pencil

He sees it move across the page, his interest piqued

I headcanon that König is a creative person

I mean, look at his gear

It isn't military grade but it does and serves its purpose

So he'll come up to you, trying to gather what he needs to push himself to get to talk to you

"What are you doing?"

Despite him being a big man, you didn't hear him behind you

You jumped, your heart pounding from surprise

"Oh, did I frighten you?" He playfully said, although he was masking that he wanted to apologize for scaring you

"N-no..."

Silence for a second

"Just... practicing some shadows and shading..."

There is a landscape on the page

He's amazed at the skill you have though he's trying to be subtle about his interest in you

"That is... very good"

🤍

You two would make a cute couple

During briefings or meetings, I can see you touching him under the table

And König would try not to be flustered

Under his mask you'd know he was blushing

Your eyes sparkle with mischief

His eyes would look at you, tell you that you would be getting it when the meeting or briefing is over

One of König's love languages is gift giving

If he sees something that reminds him of you, he'll get it for you

Or he will make something for you

Quality time is another one of his love languages

Being alone with you is all he'd ever want

It don't matter if he watches you draw or play a game, you both do something together or not, he'll just enjoy being around you

Hugs and cuddles from this giant teddy bear 🧸

Forehead kisses, on top of your head, open mouthed kisses everywhere

He'd sigh

"I adore you, liebling"

His hands would run through your hair, trace over your facial features as if he was memorizing you, burning every single detail into his memory

Who would've thought there would've been someone so gentle underneath his tough exterior?

❤

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ithebookhoarder · 2 years

Note

hello! if requests are open, could you write something about Benedict Bridgerton with a lover who is a poet/writer, in the same way as he is an artist? this is vague, but I trust you with the details! thank you! ❤

Benedict with a Poet/Writer for a S/O:

A/N: Thank you, I’m honestly so flattered. Hopefully I did this justice as this is my new favourite idea. I’m obsessed 💕 I just love this adorable artistic bisexual idiot.

Masterlist:

Benedict is very used to the artistic temperament given the circles he runs in both at Lord Granville’s parties and at the academy. He knows all too well the sudden urge to put instrument to paper, to capture whatever stroke of genius has suddenly popped into your head.

It’s why he always carries a spare pencil in his pocket at all times, and a notebook, for both of you to capture thoughts when out and about. It has amused Eloise on many occasions when you have suddenly reached into his coat pocket at some formal gathering, only to pluck out the book to jot down something or other - regardless of present company.

Speaking of company, Benedict would be more than happy to expand your joint circle of friends to include artists of all types. He loves being introduced to your fellow literary enthusiasts, and is all too keen to engage them in debates about the latest and greatest works of the English language.

Less keen on your endeavours are your poor household staff, who are all-too used to removing ink and paint from your clothes at this point.

Between you and Benedict you get through far too many shirts, skirts, and gloves - which is why you both much prefer to stick to simple garb at home, and even sans clothing if alone in your bedroom.

“It’s simply common sense,” he teases, reaching for the ties on the back of your dress.

You may or may not have also shown up to dinner once or twice with ink smudged on your cheek after leaning your head on your hand (Benedict swears he’s never seen anything half as adorable).

Expect him to indulge you in every way, whether it be buying you all the books your heart desires, or carving out a large portion of your household budget for ink, pencils, and paper.

Just as he is often shy to let others see whatever he is working on, he respects you may not be that comfortable letting him see whatever project you are working on.

He understands if you refuse, but he’ll still ask, or even try and sneak a peak when he thinks you aren't looking.

He never judges or mocks you and your ideas. If anything he thinks you’re better than Lord Byron, John Keats, and Shakespeare all rolled in to one - something he proudly declares at every opportunity, much to your embarrassment.

He is also the first to suggest publishing your work (which you are quick to point out is ironic, considering he hates whenever you try to get him to display his work in collections or exhibitions).

Benedict is also always willing to provide an ear for you, and has often enjoyed listening to you reading aloud as he sketches or paints at his easel. (He has also come up with a few lines of merit himself - which earned him a desperate kiss of gratitude after days of writer’s block.)

He loves watching when you when you’re writing, often curled up by the window with a steaming cup of tea nearby - the way your nose scrunches when you re-read a line, the way you mutter softly to yourself, the way you bite on the end of the pen before furiously crossing sections out - he loves it all.

He has pages of sketches dedicated to capturing you and your creative process.

Has often carried you to bed after finding you asleep, hunched over your work at your desk.

He’s also pretty good at knowing when you need to take a break.

"Darling, perhaps we should go for a walk." Benedict smiles as speaks, and you know it’s more of an order than a request. He has a habit of doing that when it comes to your welfare and taking care of you. Still, you’re grateful for the excuse to put down your pen for a minute and look at anything other than pages of ink scribbles before you - they didn't even look like words anymore, you're so tired.

You nod, holding your hand out to him in invitation - one he was only too eager to accept.

You don't know how Benedict had got so good at massaging, but you instantly melt into his touch every time he begins to rub and knead your aching fingers and joints.

"I know. I know,” you sigh. “I should've stopped earlier but-"

"-you had to finish or you would lose the words forever. I know," he teases.

He kisses your hand, a gesture you’re very familiar with at this point as you turn your palm to rest it against his cheek.

"Thank you, my love," you hum as he leans into your touch.

The kiss he presses to your hand says it all. "Anytime."

#benendict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #bridgerton books #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season 2

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 year

Note

Do you have any suggestions for a letter-writing ttrpg for 3+ people?

THEME: Epistolary Games (Part 3)

Do you have any suggestions for a letter-writing ttrpg for 3+ people?

Hello friend. First of all, I’m going to recommend my first post about epistolary RPGs, as well as my follow up post.

Now, onward to a few newer recommendations!

We 3 Shall Meet Again, by sdunnewold.

This is a story game, and the story goes like this: Once upon a time, on the edge of a dark forest, three witches were cursed to share one body. They took turns living out days, never meeting, communicating only by post-it notes and dirty dishes while they searched for a way free.

It’s kind of a story about regret, bodily autonomy, and BAD roommates.

You play in three acts: An in-person Opening Gathering, a Time Apart of asynchronous play through notes, and an in-person Closing Gathering. Each of you 3 plays for about 30 minutes to 1 hour every week.

While this isn’t necessarily an epistolary game, it’s very similar. The three players will write asynchronously, and meet up at the beginning and the end of the game to tie up the acts. If you have the ability to meet up online for short periods, this might still give you the ability to experience asynchronous play without having to send something in the mail. What I like about this game is the beautiful layout, the simple design, and the ability to have a thoughtful conversation with your friends about topics that might be easier to confront in a fictional space.

A Response to the Esteemed Dr. Crackpot, by Emily Jankowski.

A game of academic squabbles for two or more players. Fight for your hypothesis in a series of responses published by one of the journals in your field. Defend your academic integrity at all costs. Everyone needs to know your rival is wrong.

A simple one-page game, A Response to the Esteemed Dr. Crackpot is a quick guide to writing increasingly aggressive academic editorials about whatever subject you’d like to write about.

This game made me think immediately about this piece by Marie Brennan, a short story about an academic character who is struggling to be respected in the field of dragonology. It’s so entertaining and I think that this quick guide is all you need to write something of your own design. You can organize roles with friends ahead of time if you like, and choose whatever academic field you like whether it be a real field (like mathematics) or an invented specialty - like basilisk husbandry. If you like, you could even combine this game with something like Vrakoth’s Guide to Creature Cataloguing or Exquisite Biome.

Epistolary, by En Sattaur.

Epistolary is a “play-by-post” role-playing game in a very traditional sense. Players write letters, in character, and send them to each other through the post. A game of Epistolary takes place over several weeks – or even months – of real time, corresponding to the same amount of time within the game world.

In Epistolary, the player characters work together to solve a mystery and prevent something terrible from happening. There is no game master or lead player: the details of the threat, and of the characters’ plans to overcome it, are created collaboratively through the exchange of letters as the game is played.

All of the players involved in this game have only pieces of the full picture; the details of the mystery will be uncovered as you write letters to each-other. The time that it takes to send letters to each-other will also pass in-game, thus the threat that ever grows could feel slow and eerie, or large and menacing. Each player will need a copy of the game, in order to refer to the prompts given as well as to build your character. If you want a detailed game that has the potential to last for a really long game, this is for you.

Scribbled Ink, Cracked Screens and Inkblots, by babblegumsam.

Scribbled Ink, Cracked Screens, and Inkblots tells the story of two romantic Admirers trying to express their feelings towards one another through lyric poetry.However, they are constantly thwarted by their inability to properly communicate, represented by the Scribble - the unspoken, unseen force that complicates their lives.

All you need to play this game are 3 willing participants and a method of communication. What I like about this game is the potential for drama, and the ability to express your feelings about the antics of the Scribble in between texts or letters. This is a great way to include players who maybe enjoy different things about role-play - while some players may enjoy the chance to role-play heartfelt conversations, others may enjoy creating puzzles, codes, or funny obstacles. Scribbled Ink gives you the chance to combine those modes of play for a truly unique experience.

Ghost & Devil & Liar, by scyllallycs.

Ghost & Devil & Liar is a 4-player letter-writing murder mystery game. The renowned Medium does not know the identity of the killer, but their three otherworldly contacts do.

In this game, four people take on the roles of a Medium, a haunted spirit, a demonic entity, and a supernatural trickster. The four send letters back and forth, conveying information by following special rules, until the Medium makes a guess about the identity of the murderer.

If you like horror and mystery, if you like supernatural beings and a dark theme, this is the game for you. Three characters know things that another does not: their job is to communicate hints and clues to the Medium to help them piece things together. Each entity has different rules as to how they can communicate, providing interesting obstacles for the players to overcome.

The game has high replay-ability, because each case’s details are randomized. You’ll each need a deck of regular playing cards, but you won’t need any dice. If you want a game that keeps you invested and challenges your group’s ability to work as a team, I strongly recommend this game.

#asks #dnd #game recommendations #epistolary #letter-writing #multiplayer

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osric-giroux-ffxiv · 5 months

Text

Incoming Storms

Weak. Undeserving.

He could feel the barely suppressed anger in every inch of his form. Like pinpricks in his brain, moving up and down his spine, it was all he could do not to see red. It was right there, right on the edge of his consciousness. His shoulders tight and taught, every muscle tense - rest had been nearly impossible as his thoughts had raced.

And it had been like that for days.

Always someone knew better.

Always someone would have made a better choice.

Always someone would have taken the better action.

Well, it wasn’t their choice to make. It wasn’t their action to take. They weren’t the Lord of the house. He was. And he was beyond weary of the doubt and the second guessing.

Osric scowled as he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him. Fully prepared to tell whomever it was to leave him in peace, he paused only when he realized who it was, eyes narrowing when Wyland offered a piece of paper out in the form of a peace offering of sorts. “This had best be good news, Wyland.”

“The final inspection results, sir. All documentation has been filed, construction is complete...at least per the paperwork.”

“About damn time, I was getting tired of their nitpicking. Inform Hyaka he can shift his attention to recruitment.”

“As you say, sir.” The Elezen paused, glancing at the contents of the room Osric had been occupying, hesitating for a moment before broaching the subject. “I…perhaps this is overstepping sir, but is there something you’re looking for among these items that I could perhaps help with?”

Dark blue eyes shifted over to the older man before offering a quick shake of his head. “No. But they’re taking up space and in the coming months I believe the space will have a better use than simply storage. Or it could be used to store the supplies I asked you to gather for Doctor Aethwyn. I was assessing whether these items are worth a damn thing or whether they can be thrown out like the junk I believe they are.”

Wyland shifted uncomfortably, an action that did not go unnoticed by Osric in his already irritated state. “...Unless you know something I don’t, Wyland. In which case I suggest you start sharing. Now.”

“Sir…you have to understand…”

“I don’t have to understand anything, Wyland. In fact I’m quite tired of being understanding.”

Weak. Undeserving.

“Tell me what you know, NOW.”

There was a heavy sigh from the older man, his shoulders slumping for a moment as he moved further into the room, Osric’s narrowed gaze following him as he moved through the boxes and past the wrapped statues, searching through various items until he seemed to obtain what he was looking for. He returned, hesitating a moment before offering out a leather tome to the dark-haired man. “A ledger, my lord. It contains a listing of every item here. When it was obtained, where…and I believe where your unc-”

“Father.”

“Yes, father…of course…was to travel to next to obtain the next item.”

Osric turned the tome over between his hands, narrowed gaze shifting from the tome up to Wyland for a long moment. “How long have you know about this?” He held the tome up for emphasis.

“Since…your parents started collecting the items, sir.”

“And that was when, Wyland? Stop skirting around the answers and give me the fucking details.” Red was seeping into his vision, and he took a long exhale in an attempt to push it back - trying to remember the cause of his anger wasn’t actually the man in front of him.

Wyland swallowed roughly, wringing his hands for a moment. “...It started when Benedict started courting Camilla, sir. And…increased after their marriage, after it was announced that Camilla was with child.”

Osric brushed past Wyland, moving into the room, his gaze narrowing at the items as he opened the tome, quickly reading through the entries, his brow furrowing as he flipped through page after page of his mother’s handwriting. “...Wyland - none of these items ever left. They were never sold, they were never moved.”

The man shook his head slowly. “No sir…it was never mentioned what they were for, just that we were not to touch them.”

“The staff knew of them...that they were being collected, not sold.” His scowl deepened. “Did Edalene?”

Again, Wyland looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Did Edalene, Wyland?”

“...Yes, my lord. She did.”

More lies. Of course there were more lies. Perhaps it was good that his sister was off in the middle of the ocean on the Sirensong.

Weak. Undeserving.

“Sir…you have to understand that we-”

“I don’t have to understand anything, Wyland. Deliver the message I asked you to deliver to Hyaka. I have no further instructions for you at the moment.”

“I…yes, sir.”

He was met with the sound of retreating footsteps and waited for complete silence before assessing the tome once again, reviewing the items and the notes one at a time.

His parents and his uncle had been self-serving pricks - but if they had kept these items they had been keeping them for a reason…perhaps he could use that to his advantage and to the benefit of his house.

Osric moved over and tore open the wrapping off of one of the statues, only to be met by a dragon with oddly bright sapphire eyes, a slight chill radiating off of it, which he attributed to the cool nature of the room.

“Well then…let’s see what you have to tell us….”

#of lances and lament #blurbs #stories

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 2 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s R&S: Hidden Arm (Eng Translation)

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a R&S, 隐藏的臂膀, that is yet to be released on the global server. ⌚

This R&S accompanies Victor’s S2 CH 26-29 Karma.

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

Victor’s dialogues will be in bold and italics. Others’ dialogues will be in only bold.

I’ll use ( ✄┈┈┈┈ ) when moving on to the next page within the same chapter and partitions for different chapters, as usual.

Narrator of the R&S: Thanatos (the BS member who was ordered to kill MC).

The R&S contains crucial references from S2 CH 25, and fills in on the events prior.

It also has references to the events of S2 CH 10 and events occurring consequently~

—

✧ [CHAPTER 1] ✧

On my third day as a BS member, Thanatos, I meet the legendary vigorous and decisive BOSS.

It happens to be a general meeting consisting of every member. The atmosphere in the large room is as cold as ice and frost. At the end of the round table, a figure with his back to the crowd is faintly visible. A strong sense of shock sweeps over me, and I lean back in the corner, not daring to breathe.

“I don’t want to hear any more of these useless excuses.”

Along with this deep and low voice ringing out, almost everyone buries their heads in silence.

“I’ll only give you three days. How to hold yourselves accountable and how to deal with it – you guys should be clear on that. Nox, you will be following up on this matter.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Behind the barrier, the figure stands up unhurriedly.

“BS is not an institution to enjoy one’s life in retirement, nor has it ever needed youths who are incompetent.”

My heart shudders in the corner as I hear these words, bringing me a sense of déjà vu.

After graduating from high school, I’ve done a number of part-time jobs, such as courier delivery, cashiering at convenience stores, and all kinds of tedious work like this. But people like me, who don’t have much of high educational background but have a powerful Evol, are subject to peculiar looks even when doing these part-time jobs.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[FLASHBACK BEGINS]

“Hey, see that delivery guy?”

“You mean that boy with body paint all over his hands? Doesn’t he often deliver couriers to us?”

“I just heard that he’s an Evolver who can control everything from a separate space!”

“Huh? How can such a person still come to LFG to bring deliveries? If he steals something, we won’t be able to find out, will we...”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

In the lobby of LFG, I handed over the deliveries to the front desk while trying hard to screen off the whispers not far away.

I heard so many analogous things since childhood that I’ve long since learned to brush them off apathetically and passively.

But suddenly, the two people stumbled to silence as if they had been frozen in place. There seemed to be an unmistakable sense of oppression hanging in the surroundings, and a voice that wasn’t angry yet was intimidating rang out from behind me:

“Seeing as you have time to criticize other people during work hours, it seems there isn’t much for you guys to do.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I turned my head, and what greeted my eyes were a dark-colored, well-ironed suit and a piercing gaze.

“I remember this man,” – I thought to myself. Such a powerful aura, you only needed to see it once, and there’s no way you could ever forget–– CEO of LFG, Victor. For such a humble youth as myself, he is almost a heavenly existence.

“LFG never keeps idlers, nor is it a place for causally sowing discord between people.”

Victor casually turned his wristwatch,

“I believe you guys are clear on exactly what needs to be done.”

The two of them immediately cast me apologetic gazes. As I was gathering the packages, I looked up and saw that Victor had already walked far away. It was as though he simply “happened to” pass by just a moment ago. Even if he had just done it unintentionally, he was one of the few people who had spoken up on my behalf, aside from my grandma, who is also an Evolver. At that moment, my heart swelled with an exceptional surge.

[FLASHBACK ENDS]

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I return to my senses and leave the conference room along with the crowd.

The words BOSS said just now reminds me of LFG’s Victor. It seems that all powerful people and those ahead of the rest probably have a similar vision and outlook.

No matter what, I must strive for my growth here, try my best to work hard, and live my life with integrity.

–

✧ [CHAPTER 2] ✧

After the all-members general meeting, I am transferred to the subordinates under Dionysus.

“What do you go by again… Thanatos? I heard about your Evol, being able to control from a separate space…”

Dionysus sizes me up impatiently,

“You’d better not be a good-for-nothing.”

Faced with the sense of oppression in his gaze, I try to straighten my back:

“You can assign me as many tasks as you like.”

He casually throws several photos at me, directly lifting his foot on the table.

“Then go and get rid of these traitors.”

“–– Get rid of?!”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Probably because the shock on me was too apparent, Dionysus frowns and speaks in a rage:

“Concerning the paramount importance of human evolution, these useless moths shouldn’t be allowed to exist.”

He shakes his leg insolently,

“This is BS, not your convenience store. If all you can do is catch thieves, then beat it right now!”

Hearing Dionysus’ contemptuous roar, my breathing comes to a standstill. That’s because catching thieves using Evol is one of the things I’m most proud of to this very day, and it was also my “calling card” into BS.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Before becoming a member of BS, I loathed my Evol for a time. Although there are now many people in the society claiming that Evolvers are no different from ordinary people, I’ve been subjected to too many bullies since childhood. Panic-stricken, even my parents abandoned me. Listening to grandma’s words, I kept living my life cautiously and timidly. As one wouldn’t expect, the more I’ve endured, the more people thought me to be cowardly…

The first time I was at the end of my patience and used Evol to strike back, something unexpected happened.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[FLASHBACK BEGINS]

“It’s truly a matter of great regret that you have to live like this when you have such an amazing Evol.”

Following the abnormal shift in the white fog, a sound that had clearly changed voice rang out languidly. But no figure or shadow appeared in sight. Probably because of my vigilant look, the other person released an exaggerated chuckle like that on a stage play:

“Oh, kid, don’t be nervous. I just want to inform you of some good news.”

The tone of the other party seemed to soften deliberately:

“In this world, there’s an organization that is dedicated to the evolution of Evol. You can do whatever you wish as long as you have the ability. Given how much of an extraordinary Evolver you are, we need you to join us very much.”

“Need… me?”

His invitation sounded especially sincere, causing my heart to shudder slightly.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Ahh, your Evol is one people yearn to have even in dreams. Our need for you is justifiably so. However, the path to finding your own kind is always rugged. So first, let me see how much you’re capable of.”

“I sincerely wish you the very best of luck.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I stood behind the front desk in the convenience store, still unable to work out how exactly I could be “seen to be capable” by such a mysterious organization. But then again, who knew whether the man was really telling the truth or not. Right at that moment, I unexpectedly spotted a shoplifter who had stolen from the shop and swaggered off. Seizing the opportunity that no one was around, I used my Evol, lifted the thief by the back of his collar in mid-air, and dragged him back hard despite his struggles. The thief cried out in fear and was pulled back to the convenience store:

“Who is doing this… what are you doing! I can give you all the money!”

I blurted out:

“Turn yourself in. I don’t need your money.”

The moment I finished speaking, something suddenly dawned on me.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

That’s right. What I had desired all this time was never money or fame. I simply wanted to prove to everyone, to myself–– there were people in this world who needed me, who needed my Evol, who enabled me to give my everything for this reason with utter sincerity and meaning.

Involuntarily, I thought of the words the mysterious voice had said.

“Our need for you is justifiably so.”

...was there really anyone who would need me so much?

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As if in some kind of confirmation, a man attired in black from head to toe appeared in front of me that evening.

“Perhaps you’ve already guessed why we’ve come to you.”

The man said calmly,

“How exactly should you use your Evol correctly, perhaps it’s still not very clear to you. Now, please follow me.”

I was then taken to a building, and an “S” with an upturned tail end clearly reflected in my line of sight. After going through a series of scans by mysterious instruments, the man in black who led me over stood in front of me once again.

“Welcome to–– BLACK SWAN.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Here, no one can stand in our way, for we are the ones to lead the world. Because we have Evol, we create everything.”

“For the better evolution and future of mankind, we need fresh blood to join us.”

“Congratulations on passing your test and becoming one of our members, Thanatos.”

[FLASHBACK ENDS]

The scene when I joined BS is still vivid in my mind. If Dionysus’ task is akin to a “mountain” I must pass for my growth…

I bite the bullet:

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

–

✧ [CHAPTER 3] ✧

After I’ve successfully completed the task, Dionysus finally reveals a smile of satisfaction. Shortly afterward, at midnight, as I’m leaving the BS building, that modulated voice sounds again from a dimly lit corner.

“It looks like you’re adapting very quickly.”

“…have you been watching me all along? It was you who helped point me in the right direction and let me discover that I’m needed too. And for that, I’m really grateful to you…”

“There’s no need to shed tears of gratitude like this. It’s your ability, your sincere and gentle heart that have paved the path for your smooth entry into BS.”

“When can I see you? …could it be that, you’re the BOSS?”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Oh, naïve boy, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. Although I am a heavyweight within the organization, for the time being, I haven’t yet had the honor of becoming the BOSS.”

The other person lets out an exaggerated chuckle,

“As for the meeting… don’t be so impatient. As I’ve said, BS needs you. I really need you. I hope you will soon become my hidden arm and do more meaningful things for me. When you’re able to assume personal responsibilities, we’ll see each other.”

Even long after the modulated voice fades away, I’m unable to quell the stirring emotions in my heart. As it turns out, aside from grandma, there is someone who has such great trust and expectations in me.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I remember when I excitedly told grandma that I’d found a “new job,” she wiped her tears and said with a smile:

“Really? What kind of work?”

Thinking of the series of confidentiality agreements I had signed in that building; I could only shake my head:

“It’s not very convenient to tell you specifically, but it’s something I’d have really liked to do right now.”

“Then grandma won’t ask any more questions.”

Grandma then went back to the room, opened a tiny tin box, took out a very old-fashioned wristwatch, and handed it to me,

“This is the wristwatch grandma had brought when she received her first salary. Now I’m giving it to you as a gift and a blessing. In the future, you must remember to do your job properly, live well, and become a grown adult soon.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Having the expectations of these two people with me, I’ve been able to work even harder on accomplishing Dionysus’ tasks. Probably due to his satisfaction with me, Dionysus speaks more and more casually in my presence. Today, he looks at the report on the “small syringe” and says with brimming displeasure:

“The BOSS’ process is too slow. How could he let other people surpass us with something like the small syringe!”

I naturally ignore Dionysus’ complaints about BOSS, but the two words “small syringe” cause a light to shine in my eyes.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

BOSS has issued a ban on all members of the organization. He declared that these drugs are still in the immature research and development period, and their side effects and dangers are still unknown. Therefore, it’s strictly prohibited for anyone within BS to use the small syringes without authorization. Despite so, when I think of my grandma, whose health is deteriorating increasingly, I can’t help being excited: “Since the small syringe can catalyze Evol, then for an Evolver, if their Evol can be enhanced… then could it be that her health can get better too?”

The more I think about this approach, the more I feel that this will work. Coincidentally, someone secretly peddles them in the convenience store where I usually work part-time. I quietly buy one on my way back. In just a few days, grandma’s complexion speedily becomes rosy, and her back is also much straighter than before.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Just when I think I’ll take my chances, something unexpected happens. Reminiscent of a balloon puffed up to its limit at a great speed, it doesn’t take long before grandma’s body begins to wizen and become weak rapidly! At the same time, analogous conditions to grandma’s are constantly popping up online, leaving me extremely panicked.

Seeing me so anxious and on the verge of tears, grandma is very calm:

“Don’t beat yourself up. Grandma is too old; her days were coming to an end anyways.”

“There’s still a way… yes, we… can definitely develop better drugs!”

Just when I’m pinning my hopes on the organization, grievous news arrives–– BOSS’s approval of the decision to indefinitely suspend the evolution drugs has been passed on.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

–– How could this be? Isn’t BS working hard for the purpose of human evolution? At this juncture, when BOSS’s logical step clearly could’ve been seizing the opportunity and carrying on, why did he issue such a decision?!

With my mind a tangled mess of despair and panic, I look helplessly at Dionysus. Since returning from the meeting, the hurling insults and brimming dissatisfaction in his mouth haven’t seen a moment’s respite.

“The BOSS has gone absolutely crazy this time! He actually approved the proposal of those losers! …this won’t do. I must find him and talk about this!”

Dionysus turns to leave. Charred on the inside about the small syringe, this question subconsciously escapes my lips:

“Can you bring me along?”

Dionysus is solely occupied with hastening on his way:

“Whatever!”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“The decision has already been announced. There’s no necessity for another discussion.”

BOSS’ voice drifts calmly from behind the barrier.

Hearing BOSS draw the final line like this, Dionysus is flustered and exasperated:

“This decision is an absolute mistake! BOSS, you shouldn’t listen to those bunch of losers. They’re obstacles and burdens on the path to evolution! The experiments in researching and developing drugs must proceed immediately!”

The air lapses into silence for a few seconds.

“It’s not for you to tell me how to do things.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Regardless of whether you agree with it or not, I’ve already made my decision very clear.”

“Next time, don’t come to waste my time again.”

I freeze.

Seeing Dionysus’ side profile turning pale, I suddenly find myself sincerely agreeing with his words, and a strong sense of skepticism arises within me about BOSS’ decision–– is his process a bit too slow?

–

✧ [CHAPTER 4] ✧

After returning from the BOSS’ office, Dionysus fumes with rage between gritted teeth and glares at me with resentment:

“There are a number of obstacles standing in the way of getting to BOSS, with Nox at the very top of the list! You! Get rid of Nox for me!”

My heart shudders violently. Nox is the person BOSS trusts extremely. This isn’t an easy task at all… an indistinct entanglement of concern keeps me on my toes, and I keep putting it off by saying, “I haven’t yet found the right opportunity.” But when I find that grandma is soon deteriorating to the state of being unable to swallow food, I finally make up my mind.

Even if it is for grandma’s sake, I must do it.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I begin to keep a close eye on Nox, but she’s always surrounded by other people these days. One night, when I’m talking to myself impetuously as I find myself at my wit’s end, that static noise suddenly appears again.

“If you wish to achieve great things, the first step is learning to not be impatient. What you’re about to do is a very significant matter, and if you can handle it properly, it will indeed be very wonderful.”

Reminiscent of a beacon amidst the fog, this voice will gently ring out whenever I’m caught up in a brief moment of bewilderment. And it brings with it overstated words that cause me to unconsciously disclose my inner voice.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“I know I need to be patient. But aside from the opportunity to make a move, there’s actually another thing that’s been causing me to hold back… Nox is, after all, BOSS’ confidant. Although I believe I’ll definitely be able to handle it neatly, but if BOSS were to investigate deeper––”

“This can only mean that what you’re doing isn’t enough, and perhaps you need to make a more meaningful effort in a more extreme way.”

He gently interrupts me, slowing down his tone.

“For instance, ‘death’ to demonstrate your sincere convictions.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A violent shiver runs through me. The light smile hanging at the corners of my lips freezes instantly, and I hold my breath, only to hear him releasing a small exaggerated laugh. Then he speaks again:

“Don’t be afraid, kid. Just plan ahead, that’s all. However, the day you settle this matter satisfactorily, it may also be the time for you to assume personal responsibility.”

It’s as though I’ve been shown how to get to the right path, replenishing me with ample motivation and endurance. On the day when Nox drives out of BS alone, I think to myself – “the opportunity has finally come.” I follow behind her car cautiously. As I see her happening to arrive at an empty overhanging cliff by sea, I feel that even the gods are helping me: “It’s a great way to get rid of someone here, and not a soul will ever be able to know.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I take a deep breath, concentrate all my attention, and spread out both my hands vigorously–– a circle of light appears perfectly in Nox’s car. Just as I’ve planned everything, I confine Nox firmly, then swiftly swerve the steering wheel, and press the accelerator until her car expedites and falls into the sea with rumbling noise––

Along with the loud sound drifting from a distance, an enormous euphoria spreads throughout my body––

I’ve succeeded.

–

✧ [CHAPTER 5] ✧

[Tidbits]: This section takes place in S2 CH 25-7~ :>

–

Sure enough, BOSS has indeed carried out a speedy and extensive investigation. On tenterhooks, I find myself being tormented by fear and anxiety.

Dionysus leaves for the seniors’ meeting, and suddenly I receive a text message from him: “Quickly come to the conference room on the top floor.”

A little puzzled as to why he has asked me to come up, I apprehensively knock on the door to the conference room. However, the moment he sees me, Dionysus’ eyes reveal an ominous light, and he speaks in a fierce voice:

“Who allowed to come in, get the…”

“I was the one who asked him to come.”

–– It turns out that the text message was a trap! And at this critical juncture, there’s only one answer to why BOSS would set up a trap for a nobody like me: He suspects me of Nox’s death.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Sure enough, the next second, BOSS says coldly:

“I asked him to come here because I’ve heard something. Nox is dead.”

I keep my head lowered, trying my utmost not to show any emotions, but the left side of my face still twitches involuntarily. I incessantly continue reviewing the process of events in my mind as if my life depends on it. The entire thing should have been completely flawless, and I didn’t overlook anything. BOSS should have no evidence. As long as I grit my teeth to death and deny it, the matter definitely will be resolved perfectly.

But my prayer fails.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The phone message Nox has left is akin to a bomb, causing an unbelievable thought to explode in my head. And at the same time, BOSS releases a light laugh, directing his line of sight on me.

“Someone will betray me.”

“Thanatos, what do you think?”

The immense sense of oppression is akin to a boulder, and I’m unable to stop myself from shivering. But I know that I’m caught in a dead end, and I can only go for the desperate gamble of all-or-nothing:

“T-this is just the story on Nox’s side. Does the BOSS think that I did this merely relying on her phone call?”

BOSS gently taps his fingertips:

“Indeed.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The thought of him agreeing with me flashes through my mind, but before I can have the time to rejoice, a video recorded by the in-car recorder suddenly begins to broadcast, completely destroying all my luck––

How could that be possible?!

An enormous panic engulfs me, and I deny it subconsciously:

“If I really had done it, Nox would never have the chance to call you…”

“Thanatos!”

Dionysus stops me fiercely, and I don’t get another chance to argue my case.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

In despair, I realize that BOSS already had the victory within his grasp long ago. He set up this trap for me to come simply to convict me in front of everyone, that’s all. What should I do? At this point, should I really plead guilty? What if the fate that awaits me is eternal doom, and what’d happen to grandma…

“That’s all for today.”

BOSS gets up calmly,

“Thanatos, you stay.”

Frenetic, countless thoughts flash through my mind. Perhaps there will still be a glimmer of hope for me when I face BOSS alone?

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

At this moment, when my thoughts are a muddled mess, Poseidon, whom I have rarely seen before, suddenly walks up to me. He lifts his hand in an exaggerated manner as if to casually declare some gentle words:

“Everyone has secrets and also has embarrassing troublesome matters. And perhaps behind all these, they guard a sincere and tender heart.”

I find myself completely unable to hear anything else he says afterward.

His voice doesn’t sound very familiar to me without the voice modulator, but the familiarity of these words causes me to tremble uncontrollably: So it’s him! That person who’s been guiding me until now is him! It’s Poseidon! And this slowing down of his tone is clearly a reminder to me–– the poison I’ve been concealing in my mouth since killing Nox, it’s time to bite through it.

•─────⋅◍◍⋅─────•

This R&S made me think of a lot of things after all the recent updates, so just sharing them here if anyone cares to read my jumbled mess LOL.

—

#that Dionysus guy really doesn’t have a normal voice LOL. he keeps screaming the whole time. THE WHOLE TIME 💀#even when he’s supposed to have the “talk of persuasion” with Victor LOL 💀 MY EARS 💀 AND MY HANDS JUST ITCHING TO 💀(҂‾ ▵‾)#mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mr love victor #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

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cherrygorilla · 9 months

Text

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - 4:53

Yes, it is a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted anything to do with this (or anything at all really), but I've been dying to write for this story again, so I thought it would be a good way to help me get my groove back. Plus, I wanted to wait until Camp Wanamaker was done before I went back to working on Acting School Drop Out (because I feel like I might be able to use some stuff that's been mentioned in the next part lol). So, after months and months of uni stress that's kept me away from my google doc, here's the next installment of the story that's kept me going through it all.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Heavy eyelids dropped over a pair of umber eyes trying, and failing, to focus on the computer screen in front of them. Whilst the radio often felt like Butchy's only co-worker, today it just seemed to be functioning as a lullaby machine - and the smooth, fade-out ending of Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' just proved the point further. One second he was staring blankly at a page of pixelated text on a fuzzy screen, and then the next thing he knew he was drooling into the palm of his hand and almost falling off his chair at the sound of a car racing past his window.

It's not even that he was tired - it was barely even 11am for Christ's sake - he was just so bored his brain was shutting down from lack of stimulation. And considering the latest turn of events, his body wasn't far behind. The roaring engine disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the incessant ticking of the plastic wall clock in its place. It didn't matter what kind of car it was, or where the hell it was going; all Butchy knew was that he wanted to be in it. Hopefully travelling far, far away from this crappy, dead-end town, and this shoe box of an office, that was more dust than desk, and smelled like a wet rat.

Begrudgingly, he gathered himself together and finished typing out the latest file he'd been working on - something about trespassing in the old steel mill, he didn't care enough to look into the details. Tipping his head back, he rubbed his palms across his eyes, trying to press as hard as he could to draw some sort of alertness to the forefront of his mind. If anything, it just made him more tired.

One glance across his desk let his gaze settle on the dorky Star Wars mug Royce and Bentley had gifted him on his last birthday, and for the first time since he'd slumped in the splitting leather swivel-chair that morning, a ghost of a smile graced his features. He took a swig and drained the mug of the last of its contents: bitter, room-temperature coffee. Wincing at the taste, he picked up the next file to work on, but swiftly dropped it in favour of refilling his mug. After all, the walk to the coffee pot in the main office was the only change of scenery he got all day. Sometimes he watered the dying yucca plant beside him with the rancid liquid just so that he had an excuse to get away from his desk.

The tapping of keyboards and mumblings of the same, tedious phone calls he overheard every day met Butchy's ears as he lumbered down the hall and pushed open the office door. Lurking behind the frosted panel, caked in as much dust as the rest of the building, was the rag-tag reception team, consisting of three women Butchy had absolutely no intention of even looking at, let alone speaking to. He'd given up trying to make conversation with his co-workers pretty quickly after every meagre attempt on his end had been ignored. Most shifts passed without him uttering a single word. However, Lela ditching his ride that morning must have thrown him off more than he realised, because this shift was about to become an anomaly.

"So I said to him: If you know so much about the damn sausages, why don't you cook 'em yourself?"

"I bet he knows a lot about one kind of sausage."

"Oh Jen, pull your mind out of the gutter, you sound like a teenager."

"She practically still is one."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

A strained sigh slipped past Butchy's lips before he could stop it. The nasal drones from the women behind him were enough to make his eye twitch at the best of times, but the added scraping of Jennifer's nail file made it inevitable. Before he could short-circuit altogether though, one of the adjoining doors to the main office was pushed open, and the conversation unfolding behind it immediately caught his attention.

Heaving a sigh that put the young trainee's to shame, the fourth, and final receptionist, led the charge into the room - two officers hot on her heels. "Well, you'll just have to go alone then, won't you, gentlemen?"

"We can't just 'go alone', the chief's the only one that goes on solo investigations. What if it's dangerous? What if we need back-up?"

"And what, pray tell, Officer Reynolds, is so 'dangerous' about a broken store window?"

"Well from the sounds of things it's a pretty clear-cut robbery. What if the culprit's still on the scene? What if he's armed?"

"Why are you assumin' it's a 'he'?" Jennifer piped up with a smirk, punctuating her question by blowing the acrylic dust from the tip of her nail.

As expected, neither officer batted an eyelid at her interruption.

"We got the call last night. You've got a higher chance of him sticking the damn window back together."

"But what if it's like that time when Old Man McRoberts'-"

"Enough, boys. I don't want to hear it," she finally snapped, slamming the stack of paperwork down on her desk so hard it even made her glasses chain quiver. Turning to the pair with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she continued. "Callahan, you're on patrol with Officer Powell; Reynolds, you're investigating that store window. Alone."

"But Fran, that never-"

"No, I don't want to hear another word. You're going solo, Reynolds, and that's that."

"...Uh, I could go with you."

The whole office fell silent. Even Jennifer's nail file seemed to pause for thought. But all too soon, six pairs of eyes fell on Butchy, whose grip on his mug instinctively tightened under their bemused glares. He couldn't exactly blame them; even he couldn't believe that he'd dared to speak - let alone suggest such a thing. But then again, this was a perfect opportunity - perhaps the only opportunity he'd get (at least for the foreseeable future) to prove himself a worthy member of the team. Being stuck behind a computer screen all day was getting him nowhere - in fact, he was pretty sure he had even less respect now than when he'd first set foot through the door over a month ago. But working on a case, a real case, meant he could put all the skills he'd learnt in his training to the test - show everyone that potential he'd promised in his interview. This could be the making of Officer Bandoni. This could be his ticket out of that godawful, stuffy office. This could be-

"Oh my god, look at his face; he's serious."

God, he hated Jennifer. But he hated that cackling laugh of hers even more.

"Jennifer," Linda, the crotchety receptionist to her left, scolded. If Butchy hadn't known better, with her brusque, hushed tone and sharp glare from over the top of her tortoise shell glasses, he'd have thought the woman was her mother.

"Yeah right," Officer Callahan snorted. But a pause, followed by a brief glance in the new recruit's direction soon had his confidence faltering. "I- Oh…"

"Hey, cut him some slack, Jen; the kid's still learning the ropes," Officer Reynolds piped up, ignoring Officer Callahan's attempts to hide his smirk by smoothing out his moustache, and instead sending the smarmy receptionist a blasé, yet stern frown. "Of course he wasn't being serious."

"Actually, I was," Butchy corrected. He set his mug down and stood his ground opposite the two officers, gently nudging his chin up and puffing out his chest in an attempt to outwardly show some of the confidence he was so desperately trying to scrounge together. At least that would help to mask the stubborn rage bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. The staff's dismissiveness was frustrating enough on its own, but being reduced to a 'kid' was downright infuriating. 'Kids' did not single-handedly raise their little sister. 'Kids' did not give up their weekends to go and work in a shitty garage for two bucks an hour all throughout high school just so they could have food on the table. 'Kids' did not shoulder the responsibility of four adults after stepping up to parent, not only his own sister, but the three boys next door too. Butchy hadn't felt like a 'kid' in years. He had always been the oldest - the most mature, the most dependable, the most capable… So for these six adults, who had barely given him the time of day in the month he'd been working with them, to stand there and tell him he was nothing more than a 'kid'...it was insulting. And he was determined to prove them wrong. "If you need another officer for back-up, and no one else is free, then why can't I go with you?"

"Well, for one, you're not an officer-"

All Reynolds had to do was hold up a hand for Callahan to snuff out his snickers. "Because you haven't finished your training yet, son," he plainly explained. At least his withering look was softened by a bored tone.

"But I've aced every part of the course I've completed so far," Butchy argued. "And this could be a chance for me to learn on the job, out in the field-"

"Son, let it go."

"You said, yourself, that I've got potential. Why can't I just show you-?"

"Look, kid, you're not ready - you won't be for a long time. I admire the optimism but we've gotta look at the facts here. And truth is: the dirt on Callahan's shoe's got more experience walkin' 'round a crime scene than you do. I know you want to get out of the office and get a taste of the action, but I can't work the case and babysit you at the same time. It's just not realistic."

'Babysit'? Butchy could feel the word in the palm of his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist around it, crushing it, along with all its juvenile connotations. "I'm not a 'kid', I'm eighteen years old," he insisted, choosing his words and tone very carefully as he fought not to lose his cool.

"Yeah, and I'm not a chainsmoker neither," Jennifer sniggered, appearing to have swapped her nail file for a cigarette during the confrontation. She took a long drag as her, deep, carob eyes latched onto his, lashes sprawling across a rough sea of streaky kohl, before letting the smoke leak out through her crimson-painted smirk.

Butchy didn't know what was more nauseating: her attitude or the stench of tobacco hanging in the air.

Officer Reynolds let out an exasperated sigh that soon stole back the trainee's glare though. "That's all well and good, but it's not gonna change my mind. You need more experience before you go out in the field, Bandoni," he explained, with an expression that told Butchy he was well-weary of the conversation now. "You can't learn to run before you learn to walk. It's just not realistic - if anything, it's naïve."

"But how am I supposed to get more experience when I'm stuck behind a desk all day?"

Butchy's question was shot down though as the pair of officers crossed the room to the office's main door, back to their usual routine of barely acknowledging his existence. "If I'm not back by two for your CPR training, Officer Powell will handle it, okay?" Reynolds said as he plucked his hat from the coat stand in the corner and secured it atop his head of thinning, taupe hair. Knowing the new recruit wouldn't be satisfied with any answer he could give him, he'd just decided to brush the question aside altogether.

And knowing that defiance, and further provoking, would get him nowhere, Butchy finally relaxed his hand, and gave a stiff nod. He silently watched the officers announce their departure to the room and felt his shoulders slump in defeat, his chest aching with betrayal. Officer Reynolds was supposed to be his mentor, the one who would take him under his wing as he learned the ropes - and yet he'd kicked him to the curb and spat in his face the one time he'd tried to do the right thing. At least that's how it felt to him anyway.

"Bye boys," Jennifer trilled with a flirty giggle as the office door closed behind them. Tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, she turned her vampish smirk to Butchy. "Nice little show there, Bandoni. And there I was thinking today was gonna be boring."

Butchy's frown deepened as her scornful laughter battered his ears. The thick-headed she-devil wasn't worth his breath though - even the sickened huff that escaped his throat felt like a waste. His fingers once again closed, although this time they at least found the warm ceramic of his mug beneath them. Letting the heat seep into his skin, he took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to focus on anything else other than the anger boiling in his chest. At least the Star Wars mug, and the memory of receiving it, gave him something to anchor himself to: a way to discharge all the bitter resentment that had been steadily building for weeks, but had finally come to an ugly head. One more snarky comment from Danielle and he'd have hurled the coffee at her sloppy up-do, he knew it - he could feel himself teetering on the brink.

And yet, a friendly hand in the centre of his back was all it took to draw him back from the edge. "I should be thanking you," Fran said with a sympathetic chuckle, and roll of her eyes at the officers' expense. "I thought they'd never leave."

Managing a weak, but grateful smile to the receptionist, Butchy finally picked his mug up from the drink station and took his leave before he could draw any more unwanted attention to himself. Jennifer's squawking voice still rang in his ears as his footsteps pounded down the hall, desperate (for once) to shut himself away in his office. At least in there he knew he was safe from further embarrassment, even if the only thing waiting for him was a stack of files on petty traffic crimes. Apparently reading about speeding fines and parking tickets was all the excitement his life could afford him for the time being. But, for once, he actually found some comfort in that.

"Well, Wuthering Heights, you were fun while you lasted, but I am not going to miss you," Vivien snorted, holding the worn paperback out in front of her, as if to address it like an old friend.

The gentle chuckles that bounced the soft, chocolate brown curls beside her set her innocent little middle-school heart aflutter, and she caught herself clamping her lips shut in case it tried to escape. Craving the thrill of that sensation again, she snatched a shy glance in his direction before plastering the jovial grin back on her face. "Thank you for the 'A' though, Emily."

"What are you thanking her for? We did all the hard work," Royce scoffed. "I wrote so many notes on the moors I'm pretty sure I almost gave myself Carpal Tunnel."

A snicker crinkled the brunette's nose. "Well you do have the neater handwriting."

"And you have all the good ideas," Royce chuckled, praying desperately that the prickling he felt across his cheeks wasn't what he thought it was.

Stopping in front of a set of painted metal doors, Vivien turned to him with a disapproving frown. "Not all the good ideas."

"Fine… most then."

Whilst Royce may have been able to keep his blush at bay, Vivien felt hers raging like a wildfire as she downplayed his compliment with an affectionate eye-roll and pushed her way out into the crisp autumn air of the Hawkins Middle parking lot. Hopefully a bracing breeze like the one that smacked her across the face the second she set foot onto the asphalt would help her systems stop running on overdrive, because right now she felt like a live wire about to catch light. One wrong move from Royce and he'd be fried to a crisp.

Wrapping her free hand around the forearm that flanked him, protecting his arm from being barbecued should he decide to fondly bump her as they fell into stride once more, Vivien, composure regained, offered him a smile. "I guess that makes us a pretty good team then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed, holding her gaze for a beat and letting the sincerity of the moment swell alongside the tingly, warm feeling spreading through his chest. "...And we've got the A to prove it." Terrified by the sensation, he snorted out a laugh that shattered the tenderness of the moment just as awkwardly as how he almost tripped over his own feet because he was spending more time looking at Vivien and her freaking dimples than where he was walking. Damn his stupid hand-me-down sneakers from Miles and their stupidly long laces.

More awkward, cheerful chuckles tumbled from the middle schoolers' lips as Royce steadied himself again and they made their way over to the cluster of trees by the soccer field. It didn't take Vivien long to break the comfortable silence that had fallen over them though. "I don't know what we're going to do with ourselves now that project's finished; it completely took over our lives for like two whole weeks there."

"I'm sure we'll find something."

But Royce's laidback grin was the complete antithesis of Vivien's tense shoulders and skittish gaze. Then again, he had no idea what she was planning, or what her skating friends had been begging her to do for weeks.

It couldn't be that hard, right? It was just one little question. She asked him questions all the time, this one didn't need to be any different. And besides, there wasn't really anything Vivien felt as though she couldn't talk to Royce about; he was her best friend, he was always her first port of call for anything that was bothering her - well, unless it was about something like her period; that was strictly for her mom…

But this was just a question: one that could very well have been asked without another thought had she not attached all the extra weight to it in her mind. And yet here she was, fighting her own tongue, trying to persuade it to recite the script she'd meticulously planned out in her head the night before, because for some reason it wasn't convinced by her promised ability to brush the sentiment off as 'just a friend thing' should Royce take it badly. And neither was her mind, really.

Realistically though, what was the worst thing that could happen if he had a weird reaction? It's not like a meteor would crash out of the sky and strike them both down or anything, no matter how much she may want it to in the moment - she knew; she'd checked and it wasn't the right time of year for it. The worst that could happen is things might be a little awkward between them for a couple days, right? He wouldn't-

-Actually, scratch that. Vivien didn't want to think about it.

"Well, actually…" she began, before she could talk herself out of it any further.

Vivien felt Royce's gaze land on her the second she stopped to clear her throat, which had become inexplicably scratchy ever since those last words had left it, clearly so reluctant to be said they'd dug their heels in the entire journey out into the cool, October air. And as soon as it did, it felt as though all her sweat glands released at once, adding a glistening sheen to her already crimson skin. Horrified, Vivien kept her gaze on the ground a few paces ahead of her to avoid having to find out if Royce had realised, and pushed her round, silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose in an attempt to shield herself from further embarrassment as a result of her thirteen-year-old hormones wreaking havoc in her own body.

Fearing that the longer she dragged this on, the more her subconscious would betray her, she swallowed her nerves and ploughed ahead. "Do you remember how you missed out on going to watch The NeverEnding Story this summer because you had to spend your ticket money on a new wheel for your bike?"

In her periphery, Vivien saw Royce's hand shift up to play with the fraying fabric of his backpack strap. He only ever did that when he felt uncomfortable. She didn't even have to look at him to confirm it either, the pause before he responded told her almost as much as his tone of voice did.

"...Yeah, but what does that-?"

"Hey nerds!"

Despite their disdain for the term, both Vivien and Royce's heads whipped around to try to locate the source of the voice, mentally cursing themselves for even acknowledging that the phrase could have been used to refer to them, let alone responding to it. But as green and brown eyes scanned a sparse sea of middle schoolers, searching for signs of anyone with ill-intent, they came up short.

"Over here!"

The voice, carried on the wind, drew the pair's gazes to a figure, practically standing on the bench of a rotting, wooden picnic table to try to grab their attention and their disgruntled grumblings fell from their lips within seconds of one another, replaced by fond sighs.

Bentley waved the duo towards him so spectacularly that, for all they knew, he could have been directing a plane to land. And whilst Vivien couldn't help but smile at the blond's boundless energy, she also couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with how easily Royce shelved their conversation by letting out an almost relieved: "Duty calls."

"Yeah," Vivien agreed with a forced smile and a breathy, awkward laugh to match his. Although it dropped from her face the second he turned his back to head over to the shaded seating area.

Once he was a good few paces ahead of her, and she was sure he was out of earshot, Vivien let out a frustrated huff, so hot she was surprised it didn't steam up her glasses. "Goddammit, Bentley," she muttered, shoving her library copy of Wuthering Heights into her backpack as she started trudging along behind Royce. "I almost got through it all that time."

But Bentley was none the wiser to Vivien's grand plans; too excited by his own news to consider that the pair may have been busy. And besides, the easygoing grin his older brother shot him as he approached made him none the wiser.

"You've gotta come up with something better to call us, Benny," Royce said, fondly shaking his head as he climbed the last few steps of the hill leading up to the picnic table, adorned by Bentley's friends, the contents of at least three up-turned pencil cases, and enough sheets of paper to paper mache a small child. Thankfully, the table was sheltered from the worst of the breeze, so the most that a stray gust could do was flutter the edges beneath the various, makeshift paperweights (dog-eared textbooks and unopened juice boxes) strewn across the splintering surface.

"Why? You are 'nerds'," the boy laughed as he bounced back down into his spot on the bench seat beside August.

"We are not," Royce protested.

"It got you to come over here, didn't it?" Bentley replied with a cheesy smirk.

Royce let out a slightly bitter sigh as he fumbled through a response. "Well- yeah, but it's… demeaning."

"Then why'd you respond to it?" Kona snorted, apparently more focused on selecting the right shade of crayon than bothering to look Royce in the eye as she insulted him.

The bluntness of the eleven-year-old's comment drew a snort of laughter from him before he could stop it, whether it was in amusement or incredulity though he'd never know. But the smile that threatened to envelop his disapproving frown stayed firmly in place as he said, "Because I'm so used to everyone else calling us it, that's why. And you shouldn't be contributing to the problem anyway; I thought we were all on the same side here."

"You calling us nerds, RJ?" Zack piped up with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow.

"Pot calls the kettle black," Royce smirked.

"White boy says what now?" Zack retorted with a confused frown that soon gave way to a mischievous grin the second that Royce rolled his eyes and playfully ruffled his hair, insisting through shared laughter that the boy knew what he meant.

"What are you guys doing up here?" Vivien asked with a breathy laugh of her own as she arrived at the picnic table and caught the end of the boys' friendly roughhousing.

"Having fun until you nerds showed up," Zack scoffed as he shoved Royce's chest in an attempt to get the older boy away from him. But the bubbling giggles that tumbled from his lips as Royce expressed his disdain for the name once more told everyone all they needed to know about how much he enjoyed the brunet's company - proved even further when he resorted to wrapping his arms around his torso and tackling him into a hug from his spot on the bench.

"Looks like it," Vivien noted with a bemused chuckle. "What's all this then? You writing out your own comic book or something?" she continued, gesturing to the vast collection of paper spread out before the quartet.

"We're designing our characters for this cool new game Gus brought in," Bentley raved, holding up his sheet of paper for Vivien to see. "Look at my guy, he's got a wand that's disguised as a paintbrush and this magic flute that lets him talk to animals."

"Damn, Benny, that's so cool," she grinned, marvelling at the artwork with almost as much care as the blond put into creating it.

"And look, here's the one I'm doing for Gus," Bentley continued, shuffling the papers around until he selected the right one.

"You didn't want to draw out your own?" Vivien asked the boy, whose sandy blond eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

"Nah; Ben's better at art," August admitted, only glancing up from his work to shoot his oblivious friend a shy smile. "And I enjoy the planning part of it more anyway," he went on to explain. "So he's doing the drawing, and I'm filling out his character sheet for him."

"Yeah, 'cause there was no way I was gonna be able to deal with all that," Bentley snorted.

"This looks like a lot of work for just one game," Vivien noted, inching another piece of paper towards her and finding it covered from top to bottom in meticulously written words, numbers, and the occasional, scribbled doodle.

"Tell me about it," Kona scoffed. "I feel like we got extra math homework with this stupid number system we've got to work off of," she added with a huff that blew a straw strand of hair away from her eyes. Begrudgingly tapping the open, yellowing pages of an intricately illustrated book with the end of a pencil, she brought the thirteen-year-old's gaze to the table she was drawing from.

"You guys are willingly doing math over lunch and you're calling us nerds?" Royce asked with a teasing incredulity that earned him further, playful bickering from Zack.

"So what do you do with all this when you've created your characters then?" Vivien continued, feeling a fond smile tugging at her lips as Royce's unbridled laughter tickled her ears. Fighting the urge to swat the imagined sensation away, she focused her attention on the other children at the table. "What's this dorky wizard math game called?"

"Dungeons and Dragons," Bentley explained.

Vivien’s ears perked up. “Dungeons and Dragons? That weird roleplaying game Riven plays with his sweaty high school friends?”

“Who’s Riven?” Kona asked.

“My skating partner,” Vivien said, throwing the explanation away like a used napkin so that she could get back to the main point at hand.

“Ew, so is he like your boyfriend then?” Kona teased with a devilish wiggle of her eyebrows.

“No!” Vivien blurted, maybe a little too quickly if everyone turning to look at her was anything to go by. "No, not like… It's just- He's like my brother, ok?" she hurriedly tried to explain, trying to ignore the bile now creeping at the back of her throat the very thought alone had placed there.

"Ok," Kona snorted, smirking to herself as she caught Royce's shoulders slump in relief in her periphery. Making the ninth-graders squirm was a favourite pastime of hers, and lately, all this girlfriend-boyfriend talk around them, despite making her want to hurl, had been a homerun every time.

"I didn’t know Riven played DnD,” Bentley piped up, earning himself a grateful smile from Vivien for taking some of the heat off her.

“Neither did I until he made us switch our practice days so that he could go play pretend with a bunch of dorks out the back of Eddie 'the freak' Munson's trailer."

"Riven's in that weird Hellraiser club?" Royce asked, bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"My sister says they're all devil worshippers," Zack mumbled.

"It's Hellfire," Vivien corrected. "And they're not devil worshippers - well, Riven's not anyway. As far as I know they're just losers in matching shirts who play make believe like they're still in first grade."

"It's more than just playing make believe," August dared to pipe up with a somewhat defensive frown, immediately toying with the corner of Bentley's character sheet the second the group's attention landed on him. A sideways glance in the blond's direction earned him a reassuring smile that breathed some much needed confidence into his lungs, and as he released it, he said, "There's this whole world you can build your own stories around with all these super detailed characters and a bunch of lore you can discover. I spent my whole weekend reading through the books my cousin gave me and that doesn't even cover half of it. It's like one big choose-your-own adventure story, but everyone gets a say in what happens, and gets to feel like they're a part of it."

A beaming grin and steel blue eyes, sparkling with excitement, found Royce with startling ease. "Doesn't that sound cool?!" Bentley enthused.

"...It actually does," Royce admitted, even surprising himself with his answer.

"Hear that, Auggie? You didn't even have to mention dragons to convince someone that time," Kona snickered, firing the curly haired boy beside her a smirk.

"Whatever," Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You thought they sounded cool too," he added with an accusatory nudge of the blonde's elbow that had her cursing him under her breath for making her pencil skim across the page.

Ignoring his friends' sibling-like arguing, so used to it by now that it honestly would have been stranger to acknowledge it, Bentley kept his attention, and his toothy grin, focused on his older brother. "I knew you'd like it! You're always borrowing those old fantasy books from the library and writing your own versions of them."

"Well- yeah, ok, but what does that have to do with this?" Royce stuttered, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment despite Vivien's small, amused smile.

"Well this is just like that! Gus wrote out our first campaign all by himself," Bentley gushed before leaning into the shying blond beside him. "That's like the story, right?" he checked in a hushed tone. And after receiving a confirmatory nod, he turned back to Royce with renewed enthusiasm. "The plot, the monsters, the bonus quests - he came up with it all!"

Bentley pushed a stack of papers towards his brother, bound by treasury tags and bearing enough ink to have drained an entire pack of ballpoint pens. "Holy shit," Royce breathed as he picked it up and began flipping through the makeshift book, becoming more and more stunned with every turn of a page. "You wrote this whole thing by yourself?" he asked August, who timidly nodded. "In one weekend?" Again, the boy nodded, this time a little more eagerly. And Royce could see why. "...Wow," he marvelled, smiling as he watched the younger boy swell with pride. "This is really impressive, August."

"You put some serious work into this, huh?" Vivien noted.

"Yeah, I guess," August admitted as his steadily reddening cheeks were pulled aside by an appreciative grin. "It's not like I minded though," he went on to hurriedly explain. "It all came together pretty quickly once I got into it. Plus it gave me an excuse to shut myself up in my room away from my stuffy aunt and that stupid dog she carries around in her purse," he added, earning himself a bright laugh from Bentley that completely stalled his train of thought. Luckily, it was nothing that clearing his throat and refocusing his gaze on the blond's character sheet couldn't fix though. "I guess I just thought it would be something fun for us all to do together, you know?"

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it," Vivien said with a warm smile. But there was still a little, nagging thought hammering away at the back of her head, and she feared that if she didn't use this opportunity of an out as her last-ditch attempt at getting Royce alone before the end of the school day then that nagging thought would break right through her skull and puncture her brain with its pesky little pickaxe. And she needed all the brainpower she could muster to get through this, so she did not want to take any risks. "Anyway," she continued, snagging the attention of the table of eleven-year-olds as she clapped her hands together. "We'd better let you guys get back to planning. We wouldn't want to be the reason for you guys delaying your first adventure now, would we?" she asked rhetorically, firing a knowing look across at Royce that was not-so-subtly hidden behind a theatrical grin.

If Royce picked up on the intensity behind Vivien's gaze though, he didn't show it, instead remaining as blissfully oblivious as he always seemed to be when it came to her intentions as he took his turn to offer a fond smile to the table of his brother's friends. "You'll have to let us know how it goes," he said, before adding with a chuckle: "I'm invested now; it sounds awesome."

Breathing out a sigh of relief between her teeth as Royce rounded the picnic table to join her, Vivien kept her almost clown-like smile plastered to her face as she thanked whatever great powers were at work for making Royce ever so slightly more perceptive than the other, gormless teenage boys in their class. But just as she was inching her way back down the hill, and readying her opening line for the brunet once they were out of earshot of the eager little gremlins, one of them piped up with a perfectly pointed pin to burst her bubble.

"Why don't you just play with us then?"

Bentley's wide-eyed, hopeful grin was the only thing keeping Vivien from snatching up Kona's muddy jump rope and strangling him with it. Besides the years upon years of sibling-like friendship, obviously.

Forcing out a strained laugh, she managed a tight, "It's alright, Benny, we don't want to crash your fun."

"You're not crashing anything; we want you to join in. Right, guys?"

Ok, so Bentley can't read social cues… Good to know.

It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if Vivien could have known about that before she set the wheels of her master plan into motion though, because right now she felt like they were so out of sync they were about to derail the handcar she'd strapped this grand idea of hers to. But even if she could have brought herself to get mad at Bentley, Zack jumped to the blond's defence before she even had the chance.

"Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get because Kona can't add up for shit and I'm not about to let my guy Omar Scale Crusher die after I've spent all this time working out his stats."

"I can't add up for shit?! What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who got put in Math 2!"

"Only for a week! And I totally got a better grade than you on that test last week."

"No you didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Bite me!"

As the pair energetically bickered about Zack's accusations, which Kona steadfastly claimed were built on entirely false foundations, Vivien found her frustration with the picnic table occupants crumbling away. After all, they weren't to know that she'd been practising for this lunchtime conversation with Royce for weeks. How could they? The only others she'd confided in were her three skating friends and the balding Big Bird stuffed animal from the end of her bed that had taken on the role of Royce during her many rehearsals. And she couldn't blame them for their excitement over the game either; even she had to admit that it sounded pretty cool. Plus, after hearing Riven rhapsodise about Hellfire's epic campaigns for weeks now, she was starting to get a little curious about the game and how it was played.

"Omar Scale Crusher, huh?" she eventually chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Zack that soon ground his and Kona's squabbling to a halt. "How'd you come up with that?"

"Isn't it sick? Auggie had this big list of names with cool meanings to help us decide."

After shuffling through the endless sheets of paper around him, August found the right one and went on to explain for a very enthusiastic Zack: "Omar means 'one who has a long life'."

"Yeah, so he'd better live up to his damn name! I'm not planning this whole thing out to have him die in the first round," he declared with a hearty laugh, before tagging on: "Plus my uncle's called Omar and he's awesome."

Vivien couldn't help her snort of laughter at the blunt innocence. "Very creative," she noted. "What is he then? Like a viking or something?"

"No, he's a wizard," Zack stated matter-of-factly. "'Cause why would I bother using a sword when I could just kill an enemy with magic?"

"How come your guy's holding a sword then?"

Royce's frank delivery, from over the younger boy's shoulder, had a laugh spurting from between Vivien's lips before she could stop it. And Bentley, August, and Kona were all quick to follow suit.

However, as to be expected, the brash brunet soon scrambled a retaliation. "Well I'd still want one for backup."

"No duh," Kona chuckled as she finished shading in the metallic sheath of the dagger her character clutched in a leather clad fist. "Magic or not, you still need a weapon."

"Is your character a wizard too then?" Vivien asked Kona, but the incredulous snort the blonde let out could have told her all she needed to know on its own.

"No, Andromeda doesn't need to rely on magic to keep herself out of danger; her dexterity's off the charts."

Before another argument could break out between Zack and Kona as a result of her roundabout dig at him, August decided to speak for the table. "Zack’s our mage, Kona's our thief, Ben's our Bard and my guy's a ranger."

"But you're the dungeon master too, right?" Bentley checked, mischievous blue eyes peeking out from beneath furrowed bows.

August's own eyes were drawn to Bentley's the second that he'd opened his mouth, but the smirk tugging at his friend's lips was what captured his attention. "What's so funny?" he challenged through a chuckle that coaxed one out of Bentley too. "You don't think I could be a dungeon master?"

"I never said that," Bentley laughed. But the look the boys shared meant they both knew that's what his tone had implied.

"You didn't have to."

"Well can you blame me? It just sounds so menacing and scary. I know you read all those horror books and stuff, but come on, you're about as intimidating as Winnie the Pooh - who, last time I checked, was still tucked under your comforter next to your pillow and your old baby blanket."

Jaw dropped in incredulity, August lightly elbowed Bentley in the ribs. "I can so be intimidating," he retorted. But if he was pretending to be mad at the boy, his true feelings were soon revealed by the smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

"Yeah, well, we've yet to see it," Kona bluntly noted, which once again set Royce and Vivien off giggling at the sixth graders.

"You sound like you've got a pretty well-rounded group then," Royce carried on, drawing the conversation back to August's point from earlier. "Are there even any roles left for us? Or are we going to have to start doubling up?"

"You can double up if you want, but there's still a bunch of classes that haven't been picked yet," August explained, flipping through the large book spread out before him until he got to the right page. "We've not got a druid, a cleric, or a fighter."

"What does a fighter do?" Royce asked.

"Fighters are weapons-oriented warriors, who fight using skill, strategy, and tactics," August recited from his handbook, bringing the group's attention to the detailed illustration of an armoured swordsman, wielding what looked to be an incredibly heavy shield with almost no effort at all.

The second Vivien's eyes met the page she knew it was game over; her imagination kicked into overdrive and tossed all other thoughts about how she could have been spending this lunchtime to the curb. Racing at a million miles an hour, her brain plucked ideas from seemingly thin air and began piecing together a muscular young woman, strong enough to knock an ox clean off its feet in one quick shove, although you'd never know it since her frame was cleverly disguised in roughened leather padding, tarnished silver armour, and rich, violet robes fashioned into a sort of cape. Her face was weathered, but kind, and her vibrant, emerald eyes sparkled with determination, and the promise of adventure. Like the picture in August's book, the woman carried a large, battle-scarred sword by its ornate handle, and kept a hefty shield vigilantly by her side, painted in, again, deep shades of indigo, violet, and the blood of her enemies, naturally. She also had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder though, nestled beside a crossbow, just peeking out from behind a head of flowing, chestnut locks. The heroine had no time for preening, so her hair was tousled with grease and grime from combatting the elements on her journeys, but as it fluttered in the wind, it was kept away from her face by intricate braids, weighed down by silver rings and stolen jewels of amethyst and topaz. She smiled at Vivien from the forefront of her mind, as if marking her territory there, and Vivien felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed out a quiet, and hopefully nonchalant: "Hmm…cool."

"That sounds like a good one for you, Viv. Strategy and tactics? You're great with planning stuff out," Royce noted. But one glance in her direction and his face broke into a knowing smile the second he clocked her eyes, glazed over in thought, and lips, parted in awe.

"Yeah, and look, you'd make a great cleric," Bentley continued, pulling Royce's gaze away from Vivien, albeit reluctantly. Flipping the page of August's handbook, he excitedly tapped at a drawing of a tall man, draped in heavy, fur pelts and bronzed chainmail. A glowing staff was held in one hand, and a massive axe was thrown over his shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sack of flour.

"Clerics are versatile figures, both capable in combat and skilled in the use of divine magic," August recited from the page after a light, nudge from Bentley. "They're also powerful healers."

"See? That's perfect for you! You're always helping patch us up if we fall off our bikes," Bentley enthused, undeterred by the amused chuckles that his brother unleashed as a result of what he thought was an adorably innocent explanation.

"Yeah, and we could use a healer on our team, especially with those two and their lack of impulse control," August snorted as he gestured to Kona and Zack, who jumped at the chance to express their indignation.

As the group of friends returned to jovially bickering amongst themselves, Royce and Vivien's minds were quietly whirring with ideas. Ideas which, upon glancing at one another, they soon realised were all too perfectly aligned.

"What do you say then, losers?" Kona finally asked once she'd finished fighting her ground against the boys, snapping the eighth-graders out of their heads and bringing them back to reality with a knowing smirk. "Are you playing with us or not?"

Royce, as always, left the decision to Vivien. But the hopeful glimmer in his caramel eyes, paired with her own, itching curiosity made that decision all too easy. And besides, even if she wasn't spending time alone with Royce, she was still spending time with him. And that was good enough for her.

…For now.

"Well… I guess one game couldn't hurt, right?" she said with a smirk that soon broke out into a grin as Bentley's face lit up like a firework display. And it only grew when she glanced across at Royce for one last confirmation that she'd made the right decision, only to find him beaming with almost as much enthusiasm as his brother.

If this nerdy little game brought Royce this much joy, and was even half as much fun as it sounded, then Vivien knew it would be worth another few hours of crippling anxiety. Besides, she hoped that she could immerse herself in the story so much that she'd forget all about her predicament with the brunet anyway. But as they took their places at the picnic table, and Royce's sneaker brushing against her shin shot a jolt of adrenaline up her leg with such a force that she almost jumped straight back out of her seat, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. Covering up the brief waver in her cool, confident exterior with a quiet cough, she tried to refocus her mind on the endless streams of information August was unleashing on the pair of them.

"-and so the group our characters all belong to is called The Circle of the Emerald Torches, but part of the first campaign is about how we get our name, so I'll explain more about that later. Before you start, and before I give you your character sheets though, if you want to be in our party then you'll need to recite the Oath of Noble Heroes so that we know you're serious about this."

"Don't worry, we had to do it too. But it's so cool, you'll love it! And then there's a declaration of loyalty for you to sign somewhere too," Bentley tagged on before the boys started animatedly babbling amongst themselves about the ins and outs of their party's rules again.

Shaking his head at the pair, Royce took the opportunity of them being distracted to lean over to Vivien and teasingly chuckle, "What the hell have you just gotten us into?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy, knowing that his enthusiasm for the game was a major driving factor in her decision to play, and that he was also well-aware of that fact, she looked him square in the face and hid her smirk behind a deadly serious, blank expression, "I'm pretty sure we just joined a cult."

American History, Volume 2, lay open on page 38. And it had laid there like that for the past 45 minutes, having been abandoned by its current owner almost as soon as it had been removed from their backpack. Because instead of completing the assigned history homework, the desk's occupant was using their study hall period much more wisely: by shredding a solo, courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, on possibly the most prestigious instrument of all: the air guitar.

Ethan's eyes slid shut, and a blissful smile curled his lips as he mashed the volume button on his Walkman with practised ease. Bar after bar of 'Crazy Train' pounded through his skull at a staggering volume, rattling what little of his brain was left in the mostly vacant space between his ears, helped along by the bopping of his head in time with the song's beat. When his fingers weren't plucking out riffs on imaginary strings, they were banging out the drumline on a drum kit that was just as real as his Gibson SG. And all the while, he was passionately miming the lyrics for his audience of the pencil shavings and dust mites that hugged the wall beside his desk.

He felt the music in his bones. The bass line pumped through his veins. Every note that was played resonated through the chambers of his heart until it felt like the song was as much a part of him as his left arm. And the deeper he let himself sink into the music, the less aware of his surroundings he became - or the less he cared to remember them anyway. Until a sharp elbow to the ribs shattered his rockstar illusions, that is.

Bleary brown eyes met earnest, steel blue, and held nothing but confusion for the several seconds it took him to realise that Miles’ mouth was moving without making a sound.

“What?” Ethan bellowed, prying a wailing headphone speaker away from his ears as he leaned closer to the exasperated brunet.

“Jesus, man!” Miles exclaimed under his breath as he reached across to his friend’s Walkman to frantically turn the volume down. “Are you trying to blow your eardrums out or something?”

“That would be pretty metal, so maybe,” Ethan chuckled, entirely unphased. But Miles’ disapproving frown soon had him rolling out an explanation. “You’ve got a front row seat for my biggest show yet and you’re choosing to lecture me about volume control? I can care about my hearing when I’m in the retirement home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to a retirement home," Miles snorted. "You've got the survival skills of a two dollar house plant."

Instead of arguing back, or even rolling his eyes at his best friend's dig, Ethan just continued chuckling along in agreement as he slid his headphones down to rest around his neck - still blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's vocals, although they were only just audible over the hubbub of chatter and laughter that filled the rest of the classroom. "What were you saying before anyway?" he went on to ask. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, the answer to number four."

"Pfft, you think I've even made it past one?" Ethan guffawed, astonished and highly amused that Miles thought highly enough of him to assume he hadn't been shirking his responsibilities all afternoon. "I've got no fucking clue. What chapter are we on again? Abraham Lincoln?"

The mix of despair and disbelief Ethan was faced with when he glanced back across at Miles told him his guess might not have been as accurate as he'd pitched it to be. "...Are we not on Abraham Lincoln?"

"We haven't done Abraham Lincoln since freshman year," Miles deadpanned before letting out a chuckle of his own. "When was the last time you actually paid attention in one of Mr Bishop's classes?"

"Probably freshman year," Ethan noted with a laugh, slumping back in his seat and starting to rock on the back two legs of the flimsy, plastic chair. "I think the only chance I've got at retaining any of the information in that textbook for this month's pop quiz is if I eat it."

The look of reproach Miles shot the carefree stoner could have fooled any passerby into thinking that he was the boy's father, but he blamed that on the past however many years of having to act as a sole parental figure for two young boys - who, on several occasions, had actually proved to be far more mature than the lank-haired brunet before him. More often than not, Ethan felt like a third child he had to keep alive. And somehow, his lack of height was not one of the driving factors behind that reasoning.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," Ethan groaned, ever the resentful teenager in their relationship. "You've not exactly been Mr Studious yourself today."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well you've been stuck on that same question for the last twenty minutes 'cause you keep making goo-goo eyes at you know who," Ethan smirked as Miles' eyes widened in horror and his forehead started to prickle with sweat.

"No I don't," he indignantly tried.

"I thought you said you were over her," Ethan teased.

"I am! It's not like that anyway," Miles muttered, then added. "And it's not been twenty minutes."

"It totally has."

"How the hell would you know? You've been listening to Motorhead since we sat down."

"Yeah but my fuckin' eyes still work," Ethan snorted, hitting Miles with a loving grin that had him rolling his eyes before Ethan had even finished his sentence. And yet, the boy's frustration did nothing to deter him from probing further. "What's the stalking for this time then? You know, if you're not trying to get in her pants anymore."

Miles was at as much of a loss as Ethan. His eyes found the head of bouncing, blonde curls with almost no effort at all (likely a result of an entire study hall period of practice), searching for some sort of answer. But all he found was a dull, fluttering in his chest.

Even the giddy, lovestruck butterfly that had been trapped in there for months seemed to have admitted defeat.

Still, his gaze never wavered. He watched airy laughter spill from her glossy lips, and her nose crinkle beneath brilliantly blue eyes, framed by thick, black lashes and copious amounts of mascara. Whilst before, Miles could have eaten through a movie theatre's entire popcorn supply and still want to look just a little longer, in that moment he just felt empty. And that’s when he realised it wasn't actually Carrie herself that was occupying his mind, it was everyone else around her, and how she was treating them. Plucking a proudly presented flyer for a house party from one, impishly teasing another, waving at Sharon Frye on her way out the door, firing a flirty wink in jest at Steve Harrington after giggling at one of his jokes…

Miles was certain she'd looked at every other person in that room at least once since their study hall period had begun, and yet the closest her eyes had ventured over to him was when she glanced at the clock on the wall. Every thought in his head was plagued by her smile, or her voice, or her laugh… Had he ever even crossed her mind?

"Do you think she actually cares about us?"

Miles hadn't been able to bring himself to tear his forlorn gaze from the blonde in question, but that didn't stop Ethan from snorting out an answer. "Well yeah, I'd hope so; we spend enough time with her."

"Not by choice," Miles huffed.

“Well she talks to us now, and that’s more than we could have said before we worked with her, so that’s got to count for something,” Ethan chuckled. “But if this is about what I think it’s about, then she absolutely cares about you, dude. Like way more than the rest of us.”

“You really think so?”

“Dude, it’s like you two are glued at the hip. I can’t get you away from each other for shit once we close every night,” Ethan replied. And when Miles still looked unsure, he added, “Why else do you think I always get stuck cleaning the kitchen with Mick? She hates my guts!”

“No she does not,” Miles softly chuckled.

“Well I definitely don’t think she likes me, not like Carrie likes you anyway,” he retorted with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m telling you, man. There’s something there. There’s no way she’d laugh at your crappy jokes like she does if she didn’t at least have a little interest in you - I don’t care if Mick thinks it’s bullshit, I know I’m right.”

Miles just rolled his eyes, but a hopeful smile desperately pulled at his lips, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. “I don’t know, I think she probably just does it to be nice,” he mused, watching as Carrie animatedly responded to Rachel Price before turning back to resume her conversation with the girl sat beside her - the very girl that Miles still had an irrepressible urge to swap lives with: Juliet Harmon. Now faced with nothing but the back of her head, he quickly lost interest in the view. “…She seems to act like that with most people.”

“She definitely does not, man. Why do you think the entire marching band is scared to look her in the eye? She’s like one of the biggest bitches in school,” Ethan scoffed. But he paused when he realised Miles wasn’t laughing along with him. “Why does it matter how she acts around other people anyway?”

“It doesn’t,” Miles huffed. “…Not really.”

But the second he dared to make eye contact with his oldest friend, the floodgates opened and the truth came tumbling out.

“I just…feel stupid for letting her get in my head, and for actually thinking that we had something special - that I was somehow different to all the other idiots who throw themselves at her to get a second of her attention. But here I am, thinking about her constantly, hanging onto every interaction we have like my fucking life depends on it, only for her to… Ugh, I don't know. I just…don't want it all to not mean anything to her, when it means so much to me - no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn't. I mean, yeah, she's nice to me at work - really nice - but she barely even acknowledges me outside of All Skate… It's like I don't even exist, like she doesn't even realise I'm there. And it makes me feel like shit."

"She barely acknowledges anyone," Ethan absentmindedly mused. "I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Miles huffed dejectedly. There was something freeing about Ethan's nonchalance over Miles' feelings though; it made them feel less suffocating. And whilst he still felt entirely hopeless about the situation, he did feel a little bit of the pressure ease off as he rested his chin on his hand and let his mind start to wander. "...You think she actually considers us friends?"

"Sure; she calls us her work friends all the time."

"No but like her actual friends," Miles clarified.

"Dude, I don't fucking know; the female mind is a mystery to me at the best of times, but hers is on a whole other level," Ethan scoffed in incredulity. "Do you not remember that like thirty minute debate I had with her about diet sodas? Actual insanity.”

Miles' quiet chuckling as he reminisced about what had started as an innocent question, yet progressed to a full-blown screaming match, with each participant equally as confused and frustrated as the other, was soon silenced by Ethan's next prompt though. "I know a way you can find out though…"

"...No!"

"Oh come on, man. Don't be a sissy. It'll be so easy. And then you can stop getting hung up on all these bogus hypotheticals."

Miles' initial horror slowly dissipated as Ethan's reasoning started to lure out a far greater force from its hiding place in the corner of his brain: his curiosity. "...You really think I can just go up and talk to her? In class?" he asked, as his eyes once again found that jumble of golden curls.

"Sure, why not? It's only study hall."

Again, Ethan's nonchalance, which was only heightened by the fact that he was trying to balance a pen on his curled upper lip as he responded, did far more for Miles' confidence than any pep talk of his own could have. And besides, maybe he was onto something - maybe it really was that simple; it always was in his world.

"It wouldn't be weird?" Miles double-checked.

"Why would it be weird? All you're gonna do is talk to her. And we already established you two are friends, so what could go wrong?"

Miles shuddered at the very thought. "So much."

Ethan glanced across at him, ready to fire out further encouragement like a sixth grader with a penchant for making spitballs, but when he clocked his friend's nervous fidgeting, he reconsidered his situation and gained a little clarity. "Ok…yeah, fine, stuff could go wrong. But are you gonna die?" he proposed.

"No," Miles begrudgingly mumbled.

"Are you gonna break something?"

"No, but-"

"Then how bad can it be?" Ethan cut in with a lopsided, optimistic grin before Miles could tie himself up in any more self-conscious knots. "Just get over there and scratch that itch that's been bugging you for weeks; it's not gonna stop until you do. And you'll feel so much better after."

It took Miles by surprise every time it happened, but yet again, it seemed as though Ethan might actually be…right. This question of Carrie's loyalty had been eating away at him for weeks now. And, as he'd stressed earlier, it was making him feel shittier and shittier with every day he let it drag on. Asking her outright was a definite way to get his answer… It was just going to require him growing some balls, as anything to do with All Skate's resident disc jockey apparently made his own shrink to the size of peas.

"...Just walk over and talk to her?" Miles checked. Although, between us, he was just stalling to give himself more time to muster some courage.

"Yeah, as a friend," Ethan confirmed.

"You really think I can pull that off?" Miles asked with a dubious, but hopeful quirk of his eyebrow that had Ethan melting like a bomb pop that had been left out in the 4th of July sun.

"Absolutely," he grinned, totally enamoured by his friend's giddy trepidation, and the promise of a relationship he so steadfastly defended. "She's got a major soft spot for you, man. I see it like every night," he went on to reassure. "There's no way she's gonna blow you off. You'll be fine."

And as a result of that dopey grin, complemented by the ratty, chestnut locks, and vacant, dark chocolate eyes… Miles believed him.

"...Ok, I'm going in," he breathed through a determined smile.

"Atta boy," Ethan chuckled, fist-bumping Miles before tipping his chair back onto all four of its legs again, as though to signal the resolution of their predicament. "Go scratch that itch," he added, finishing their little handshake with a bolstering point before lifting his headphones back over his ears and disappearing back into his wildest rock star fantasies - totally oblivious to the disaster about to unfold right behind him as Miles took a deep breath and waded into the wild, uncharted waters of the female mindset.

"So now that we know that y=7, we plug that into this side of the function, that we've already simplified, to give us this…which then means that we can carry this over here, giving us x=3."

…Silence.

"Right?" Juliet checked, although the satisfied smile that had settled on her carnation pink lips as soon as she finished the sum was beginning to falter into one of desperation as she turned to her tutee. "Did you follow along ok that time?"

But all Juliet was met with was a glassy stare and an infatuated grin, smushed between two fists as its owner rested their chin on their palms. "You're so smart, Julie," Carrie breathed.

Juliet just rolled her eyes, although she did little to hide the bashful blush tickling her cheeks. “Never mind that, did you understand how I worked it out that time?”

"...Kind of?" Carrie tried, offering a lopsided, hopeful grin to try to lessen the blow.

If Juliet's exasperated huff was anything to go by though: it didn't work. But her frustration dissolved the second that she met Carrie's gaze. "Where did I lose you?" she asked with a gentle, patient sigh.

"The whole reversing the function bit," Carrie admitted as she bit her lip and braced herself for Juliet's reaction. Although the blonde's expression never wavered, the dismay that flashed in her eyes soon had Carrie barrelling through an explanation. "I swear I was getting it before that this time, but then it all started to sound like you were talking in another language, and then I got distracted by that pretty way you write out the 'x' again, and then I just…"

"...Stopped listening all together?" Juliet teasingly offered with a fond smirk.

Carrie scoffed in mock-defence. "No, I listened the whole time, I just stopped taking it in," she went on to clarify. But as soon as she drew a giggle from Juliet's lips she melted into that same infatuated grin from earlier as she admitted, "I'd never stop listening to you. You know I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Even about algebra?" Juliet teasingly tested with an affectionate smile of her own.

"Of course about algebra," Carrie gushed with a glittering honesty that soon had Juliet giggling again. "Believe it or not, this is the most I've ever understood a math module," she carried on, straightening up in her seat to help give her point a little more credibility, before tagging on a jovial, "And it's all thanks to you, smarty pants."

"Would you stop calling me that? It's so lame," Juliet protested, hiding her smile behind a frank eye roll. "And besides, I'm not that smart."

"You so are; you're like the smartest person I know," Carrie gushed, never one to let her friends downplay their successes, much to Juliet's disgruntlement. The blonde's frown didn't deter Carrie from continuing to lovingly babble straight through her stream of consciousness though. "That brain of yours has to be huge - no wonder you get headaches all the time, it's because it doesn't have enough space in there."

Carrie's knack for making herself giggle never failed to make Juliet smile, but yet again she found herself trying to cover it up with a bashful roll of her hazel irises as she let out a sigh and attempted to get their conversation back on track. "You wanna try another question then?"

"Don't try to change the subject," Carrie fired back with a mischievous grin.

"I'm not, you are!" Juliet retorted, biting back an incredulous laugh. "We're supposed to be doing algebra, not Juliet 101."

Carrie's mischievous grin only broadened. "Now that's a class I might actually get an A in."

Rolling her eyes for the third time at her best friend's antics, Juliet teasingly tried, "What? Not an A+?"

"Maybe," Carrie smirked. "But then again, I might get distracted by my teacher." Her wiggling eyebrows soon had Juliet reprimanding her and attempting to draw her focus back to her school work, but Carrie's mind was already wandering off too far down a different path altogether. "...Do you think you'd ever wanna be a doctor, Julie?"

The comment, that fell slap-bang in the middle of Juliet's offer to rewrite the steps of the previous algebra equation, baffled her into silence - so taken aback by the suggestion that she almost thought she'd misheard the golden-haired girl. "What? No," she spluttered, looking at Carrie as though she'd just sprouted a third nose. "Where did that come from?"

Juliet's confusion didn't seem to faze Carrie though, because her dreamy smile stuck it out through her whole, rambling explanation. "I don't know, I just figured you should use your big brain for a job one day. You know, like one that actually actually makes you think instead of just like a working a cash register, or stacking books or something. And you need to be super smart to be a doctor, so…"

Juliet was quick to shoot down Carrie's optimistic grin. "I do not have what it takes to be a doctor, trust me."

"Sure you do," Carrie defended. "I'd let you be my doctor."

"Oh well then hand me my diploma," Juliet sarcastically replied, once more fondly rolling her eyes and chuckling at her best friend's enamoured stare and incessant bolstering.

"I'm serious," Carrie pressed on though, determined to get through to Juliet despite her doubtful smirk. "I'd trust you with my life, you know I would. I'd let you save my life any day of the week," she grinned. But, after giggling to herself and absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers, when she finally latched onto Juliet's hazel gaze again, only to find it significantly less jovial, it was her turn to express her confusion. "What? You don't believe me?" she teasingly challenged, with a quirk of an eyebrow.

But Juliet still didn't seem to be in the mood to joke back, as her lips fell in line with the horizon and her gaze darted to Carrie's right before finding her again.

Ok, now Carrie was really confused.

"Huh?" she murmured, clearly not as in tune with her best friend's thoughts as she assumed she was.

However, this time, Juliet flicked her eyes to Carrie's right with a touch more resolve, and paired it with a slight, but very purposeful nod of her head in the same direction. And finally, Carrie seemed to get the message.

Following Juliet's line of sight, Carrie turned to look over her shoulder, only to find herself face to face with a person that almost caught her off guard as much as Juliet's sudden shift in dynamic had. "Oh," was the first word to jump from her lips, startling her back into what Juliet lovingly dubbed as 'show-mode' as she rolled her shoulders back and fixed a brilliant smile to her face. "Hey, Miles."

The second that Carrie acknowledged Miles, any confidence he'd managed to trick himself into conjuring fled. And whilst he had a Herculean urge to do the same, he too plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile to his face as he finished his approach to the blondes' shared desk. "Hey, Carrie," he said, breathing a sigh of relief for even managing to get the words out. And yet, he still pushed a little further to add, with a nod of acknowledgement too, "Juliet."

The entertained smirk that started pulling at the corner of Juliet's lips in response caught him off guard, and he felt his stomach gently clench in defence. But he chose to ignore it, returning his gaze to Carrie's bright smile - its familiarity putting him back at ease and igniting that usual fire in his chest that sent warmth spreading throughout his-

Wait, why was she turning back around?

"Right, where were we?" Carrie said, dazzling Juliet with a grin as she readied her pencil on the page. "I've got a good feeling about this next one; I think if you just take it slow-."

"Ahem," Juliet interrupted. Her gaze caught Carrie's once again and held onto it for a beat before she tilted her head forwards, signalling with her eyes that there was still something - or rather, someone - behind her. The confusion, almost disbelief, swimming in Carrie's eyes made Juliet have to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, and locking onto Miles' look of bewildered dismay just made it even harder. But luckily, Carrie was quickly able to decipher her visual message once again, with little prompting this time.

Turning around to find that, to her surprise, Miles hadn't just been greeting her as he passed by her desk, he was, in fact, standing there - well, expectantly shuffling from foot to foot anyway - Carrie remounted her smile. Although now, Miles realised, it wasn't so welcoming. It felt almost…uncomfortable.

"Oh, sorry. Did you want something?" she offered.

He did - desperately so. And yet, he felt as though the sudden shift in tone had already started to write out his answer.

The hairs on the back of his neck started to twitch as the walls of his stomach steadily closed in tighter. But, determined to stand by his heart, and prove to himself (and Mick) that his feelings weren't all built on fantasies he'd created in his head, he brushed the unease away and stood his ground. "No, not really. I just thought I'd…stop by…see how it's going."

Carrie's smile faltered again, giving way to further confusion. "...See how what's going?"

"...Study hall?" Miles said. But the response came out as more of a question than an answer, which he supposed was down to the fact that he wasn't even sure of it himself. And despite his hopeful grin, which he feared was now looking more like a grimace, he couldn't seem to stop trying to rub the growing discomfort from the back of his neck.

God, he hoped that he didn't have any sweat stains.

"Oh, uh, it's going fine," Carrie politely replied. Although her awkward fidgeting with her pencil's eraser told a different story. "We're just going through the algebra homework."

It was weird; it wasn't as though the conversation was making her seem 'off', it was like…the very fact he was talking to her was so distracting she couldn't settle. She was the centre of Miles' universe. And apparently he was just an asteroid in hers: a misshapen hunk of space rock, hurtling past in the blink of an eye, and completely blindsiding her with his very insignificant existence.

A fellow asteroid must have collided with him at some point, because he could feel this weird twinge in his chest, by his heart, almost as though the impact had chipped a corner off. He swallowed thickly, pushing the creeping discomfort away. "The one for Mr Moreno's class?"

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed with a nod.

"Oh, nice…" Miles trailed off with an awkward chuckle and what he feared was now looking like a rather desperate smile. And he was sure his expression only got worse when his gaze was pulled off-course by Juliet, who gave him a look that made him want to give up altogether. How her hazel irises had managed to harness the ability to hiss 'you are totally blowing this' in his ear, he had no idea. And yet, the urge to prove her (and everyone else) wrong gave him the motivation to plough on. "Well, if you still need any help with it later, I don't mind going through some of the answers with you at wo-"

"It's alright," Carrie bluntly cut in, slicing out a chunk of Miles' self-esteem as she did so. "Julie's got it covered," she added, turning to dazzle the blonde with a brilliant grin.

By the time that grin made its way around to Miles though, it felt cold. And it seemed suppressed, like she hadn't really wanted him to see it. What he feared was the beginnings of a smirk were tugging at the corners of her lips too. And whilst he wanted to believe that it wasn't at his expense - some cruel inside joke the pair of blondes had whispered with their oh-so talkative eyes in the second that Carrie's back was turned - something in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise.

"Thanks though," Carrie lazily tacked on, with a brightness in her tone that just felt hollow to Miles now.

"No problem," he breathed. But there was a problem, and he was staring right at her.

Miles tried to find it in him to mean the smile he sent her, but he just couldn't. Somehow, what was supposed to have been a simple conversation between 'friends' had left him feeling more insecure than ever. Why was she so difficult to talk to? And was she making it so difficult? If they'd been at All Skate, cleaning the rink after their shift, he'd have had no trouble talking to her - their conversations flowed like the Mississippi River when it was just the two of them. And yet here, he felt like he was trying to coax water out of a rusty garden tap in the peak of a summer drought.

He couldn't find the words to piece together what he wanted to ask - he didn't think such a sentence existed, not one that he could construct anyway. Carrie seemed hellbent on getting rid of him, which did nothing for his creeping fear that she was only nice to him at work because she had no other option for company. And the damn heat radiating from Juliet's pitying smirk had so much sweat running down his back he contemplated running to the nearest bathroom to wring out his underwear.

And somehow, those glittering, sky blue eyes of hers still threw him a line - a glimmer of hope to cling to. After all, she'd surprised him before - countless times - maybe she'd be able to do it again.

Just as Miles was moving to open his mouth to try one last time though, he was beaten to it.

"Was there anything else you wanted? Or was that it?"

Any hopes of a redemption for the blonde were snatched from Miles' grasp, and the reality of it felt like a punch to the gut. Thoroughly deflated, he accepted his fate with a heavy sigh. It may not have been the outcome he wanted, but at least he had an answer now, and there was a silver lining to that, he supposed.

"...No," he breathed through a forlorn, but relieved smile. "That was…that was all."

Miles felt he must have imagined the concern that flickered in Carrie's gaze - wishful thinking, he supposed - because the airy giggle and laidback grin she flashed him certainly didn't marry up with it. "Oh, alright then. See you later!" she chirped with a wave as he started the walk of shame back to his desk. Again, just as he was turning back to offer a farewell of his own though, she managed to get her words in first. "Don't forget your thick socks."

Miles stopped in his tracks. Now he was more confused than ever. The cheeky glint in her eyes, the knowing smile, the reference to a throwaway joke from their closing shift last night… Everything he'd just come to terms with about her vehement disinterest in him had been called into question with those five, simple words, and a wink that just about made his heart stop.

…Maybe she did really care after all.

With his heart leaping up from its dejected slumber, Miles shot her a grateful smile and chuckled an earnest, "I won't." Breathing out a contented sigh, mind already racing with ways to talk to her about this more that evening, Miles finally felt his shoulders relax as he raised the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck his whole time. "See you la-"

Nevermind, she'd already turned around to talk to Juliet again.

Again the brunet was flummoxed. The only thing he felt truly confident about as he slunk back to his desk was the very thing he'd been warned of before wading into that mess: the female mind was a mystery. And he had never felt further from figuring it out.

Turning back to Juliet, Carrie couldn't help but shake her head and chuckle under her breath. "That was weird," she noted, tilting her head in the direction of her retreating co-worker.

But Juliet's eyes had never left the bumbling brunet. "Mmm… He's kind of cute," she mused. Although her prompting smirk was lost on her tutee, since her sapphire gaze was immediately pulled to the back of Miles' head.

"Yeah." Carrie's breathed response fell from her lips with startling ease, so much so that it even surprised herself. Hoping to catch it before it slipped into Juliet's ears though, she shook the starry-eyed gaze from her head and scrambled together a cover-up. "Uh, yeah? I can try to set the two of you up if you want. You know, put in a good word at work and stuff."

If she expected Juliet to accept her optimistic offer with open arms though, she was soon proved wrong.

"Yeah something tells me he's not interested in me," she snorted.

Carrie looked at her, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't he be? You're like a total babe."

"Oh come on, Carrie. Please tell me you know that he's got a major crush on you," Juliet said with an almost disapproving frown. "Like major major."

Carrie scoffed at the accusation. "It's not major," she tried, rolling her eyes in a further attempt to downplay the gravity of what Juliet was implying.

"Carrie," Juliet pressed as she knitted her brows. "The guy could barely speak."

Caving under the blonde's hardened gaze, Carrie let out a resentful huff. "Ok fine, so he's got a little crush," she finally conceded. "What's so bad about that? It's not like anything's gonna happen; he knows I've got a boyfriend."

"Mhm… And what does Eric have to say about Miles?"

Carrie rolled her eyes so hard Juliet thought for a second that they might never come back down again. "Why does it matter?" she groaned, her skin prickling with irritation.

"Well he's not exactly got the best track record when it comes to being understanding about you hanging out with other guys," Juliet sighed, with a sneaking suspicion that her tutee's frustration had been triggered by the mention of her boyfriend's name alone: a welcome sign that their relationship was as healthy as ever. Not.

Carrie scoffed as a bitter scowl settled into place. "It's not like I'm 'hanging out with him', we just work together. I barely talk to him during my shift anyway, only when we're clearing stuff up at the end."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet started, curiosity piqued. "And what happens then?"

"Nothing!" Carrie insisted. "We just talk - you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut even when I want to, so of course I'm gonna talk to the guy." Letting out a sigh to try to blow off some steam, she softened under Juliet's gaze and allowed the blonde to lead her through her haze of thoughts. And if Juliet's gentle nudge in the right direction wasn't already enough to do the trick, one glance at Miles' retreating form completely burst the dam. "We've been talking for like the whole last hour of every shift since I started - about school, movies, whatever really - it's like the only thing in that dump that's worth sticking around for. I kind of just did it because I was bored out of my mind at the start, but turns out he's actually really fun, and sweet too - you wouldn't believe some of the stuff he does for his little brothers, Julie; I've literally gone and cried in the break room before after he was telling me about it. It's that cute."

"You cry at everything," Juliet countered with a fond, teasing chuckle.

"Oh come on, not everything," Carrie retorted. Naively hoping that their conversation on the matter had ended there, she let her eyes settle on Juliet's again, only for them to inch open the floodgates once more with a simple bat of her lashes and a tilt of her head. "We just talk and…goof around," she tentatively began - defensive, despite her nonchalance. "You know, make each other laugh about weird things customers have said, or stupid things we did. It's not like we're fooling around or anything. And before you say it, because I know that face: no, I am not leading him on. It's all totally platonic, I swear."

"Ok…" Juliet softly trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words before raising her next point. "Does Miles know it's all 'totally platonic'?"

Carrie let out a groan of despair, as she always did when her best friend lovingly lectured her. "I don't know, Jules. I'm not a mindreader. He's not grabbed my ass or spiked my water bottle, if that's what you're getting at," she grumbled, before promising, "I've got it all under control, I swear."

Somehow, Juliet didn't seem to be buying it; as impervious to Carrie's confident charm as ever.

"So Eric's totally chill about this whole thing with Miles?" she tested, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"He knows I work with him…" Carrie mumbled.

Juliet nodded understandingly - almost too understandingly - in Carrie's periphery.

"...And does he know how he makes you feel?"

Daring to challenge Juliet's calculated point with ignorant defiance, Carrie whirled around to meet the blonde's smug expression with a gasp of indignation, and an argument that fell away the second she realised that she didn't have a single word in her head to back it up with. Admitting defeat, she sighed and let her body slump, along with her hopes of her vindication in her best friend's hazel eyes. "Ok, yeah, fine. I know Miles has a crush on me," she confessed. Although the guilt laced into her words steadily morphed into hurt the more she tried to defend herself. "And yeah, I do lean into it sometimes because it makes me feel good about myself. Is that really so bad? Is it such a bad thing to want someone to be extra nice to you for once? Or to give you some positive attention?"

"No, of course not," Juliet assured, assuming a fierce determination of her own. "I just think your boyfriend should be able to do all those things and more, and clearly he's not."

Carrie sighed, exhausted by the very thought of him. "This isn't about Eric."

Juliet sighed back, exasperated by her best friend's submissiveness, especially when she was usually so domineering. "How can you still want to defend him, Carrie?"

"Because, I love him, Julie," Carrie replied, finally finding the contented smile the thought of him should have immediately slapped on her face. "And because he's a good guy."

"Really? Because he's been nothing but a dick to you lately," Juliet flatly countered, hoping that with a little pushing her friend would see sense.

"We've just had a couple of arguments, it's not a big deal," Carrie casually defended. "And they're all resolved now, so I don't know what you still have to complain about."

"Just because you had make-up sex does not mean that the problems were resolved," Juliet rolled her eyes before fixing the golden-haired girl with a more earnest look. "Did he actually apologise this time?"

"We talked it out first-"

"Did he apologise?"

Carrie squirmed under Juliet's gaze before muttering a reluctant, "No."

"Ugh," Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes again as she wound up to unleash a rant she'd been working up to for weeks. But, to her dismay, Carrie's defences beat her to it.

"Neither of us did, really. We just agreed to forget it and move on."

"How is that resolving anything?" Juliet asked with an annoyed frown that Carrie was starting to take personally.

"Well I hadn't thought about it until now, so it must have at least kind of worked," she attempted to justify.

But Juliet's nettled scoff told her that her stance on the matter wasn't budging. "You and Eric might as well speak two different languages; I've seen a pig and a fly communicate better than you two."

The comment drew a giggle from Carrie's lips before she could stop it. "Don't try to distract me with your cute, Southern lingo," she said as the amused smile settled on her face and she affectionately bumped her friend's arm - the act bringing both their tempers back down to Earth. Before Juliet could launch into another lecture though, Carrie hoped to diffuse the situation once and for all. "Anyway, we worked it all out and everything's back to normal," she said. Although Juliet's questioning glance made her correct herself, "Better than normal. In fact, we're going to go look for Halloween costumes together this weekend," she finished with an optimistic grin.

Now that was an improvement. For the first time since they'd sat down, Juliet found herself pleasantly surprised. "The Barbie and Ken costume's back on? I'm impressed. You two really must be getting along." Knowing how excited Carrie had been about the idea, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of it finally coming into fruition.

"Oh no, the Ken idea's long gone. I think he's going as a firefighter or something now."

Juliet's optimism shattered in a split second, and yet she stayed frozen in place, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "...You're kidding, right?"

"No, but I don't really mind. I'll just find something else to go as," Carrie sighed through a small, indifferent smile. If she'd spotted the disgust hidden in Juliet's eyes after her last revelation, she chose to ignore it. "It'll be fun getting to plan out my own costume anyway; I've got so many more options now. And plus, the Barbie one was only gonna be a pain in the ass to-"

"You're not even doing a couples one?" Juliet asked, far too concerned with what she was learning to care about hearing out Carrie's excuses.

"He thinks couples costumes are lame," she explained with a huff. "Or at least that's what Adam told him anyway. He said he wanted to just do his own thing."

"But Carrie, you've been excited about doing a joint costume with him for like a whole year."

"So?" Carrie asked, with an eyebrow quirk of her own, shoving the accusation aside as though she was kicking an ice cube under the refrigerator. "It's just a dumb Halloween party, it doesn't matter what we wear; everyone will probably be too drunk to even pay attention anyway."

"Yeah, but it matters that he doesn't care about stuff that's important to you. He never has, and it's selfish, Carrie - super selfish…" Juliet trailed off with a frustrated sigh, praying that she might finally get the ditzy DJ to see sense. "You need to stop defending his shitty behaviour."

"And do what?" Carrie mumbled, unknowingly giving Juliet just what she wanted: a chance to unleash her anger with the infantile blond bozo and the mockery of a relationship he had roped her best friend into.

"Hold him accountable," she urged, hazel eyes blazing with passion. "Relationships should not have to revolve around making excuses and placating your partner with blow jobs - it's a fucking joke. I don't care about all the 'good times' you guys have, or all the memories you've made; the way you've been treating each other lately is appalling, and you deserve way better," she said, pausing to let Carrie absorb everything she'd just thrown at her before delivering the finishing blow. "And I know you know that too, because you're already looking for it in someone else."

Carrie's blood stilled in her veins. Sometimes it scared her how deeply Juliet understood her, and other times it felt comforting. This was not one of those times.

She took in a slow, shuddering breath as Juliet's words seeped into her skin, carrying a deep sense of guilt with them. As much as she wanted to denounce Juliet's observations and stand by her own, joyously declaring her undying love for her boyfriend at the top of her lungs…her mouth made no attempt to move from its crestfallen frown. It couldn't, because she knew she was wrong.

The despondency in the blonde's vacant, blue eyes soon drew Juliet down from her soap box though. This time she approached with a gentle, almost apologetic, smile as she entwined their fingers and began rubbing circles into the back of her tanned hand with the pad of her thumb. "I just want what's best for you, Car," she quietly promised.

"I know," Carrie murmured, mustering a grateful smile as she squeezed her hand back, as though to say a 'thank you' her mouth wasn't quite ready to commit to yet. "I'm fine, Julie, I swear," she went on to profess. But when she started to get a sneaking suspicion that the statement wasn't all that convincing, she decided to switch up her tactic. "Now can we please get back to algebra?"

The genuine laughter that tumbled from Juliet's lips was music to Carrie's ears. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," Juliet chuckled as she picked up her pencil again.

"I'll do anything to get us talking about something else," Carrie admitted with a woeful chuckle of her own. "And besides, I think I've got a better chance of wrapping my head around this than anything to do with my love life at the moment."

"Boyfriends suck, huh?" Juliet snorted with a knowing smirk.

"Try all boys suck," Carrie countered with a smirk of her own, at last feeling as though some of her signature confidence was leaching back into her frame. Although the pair's giggles took a few seconds to die back down, a mischievous glint remained in Carrie's eyes before she let them glaze over in thought. Mind idly wandering down untrodden paths, a wistful sigh escaped alongside a rogue proposal. "Wouldn't it make life so much easier if we could take them out of the equation altogether?"

Carrie was too lost in thought to notice, but the words that left her mouth forced an entire systems reboot in Juliet's brain. She had to do a double take, certain that she must have misheard her, or had at least missed the joking undertone. But no, the glassy, pensive blue irises held nothing but sincerity. And that confused Juliet more than ever. Her mind whirred with possible explanations for the brainless musings that definitely didn't sound as though they came from a girl in a committed, heterosexual relationship, but before she dared to question her on any, a tanned hand, the size of a frying pan, pulled her prospective interview subject right out of her seat.

Carrie's eyes widened as she was whisked into a pair of cotton-clad arms the size of tree trunks, hardly able to catch her breath before it was being exchanged for someone else's. A faintly stubbled smile pressed into hers several times before she fully regained her bearings and was able to catch the frying pan hand from travelling too far south of her waist. "Eric," she giggled once she finally managed to inch their lips far enough apart to mumble a greeting against his skin. A subsequent flurry of kisses kept her from elaborating any further though. It was a wonder they didn't pass out from lack of air.

"Hi, beautiful," he eventually greeted with a smitten grin. But their lips didn't stay apart for long as the dopey quarterback seemed hellbent on keeping his coated in his girlfriend's saliva. "You have a good study hall?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against hers. His roaming fingers shattered any hope of his interest in her life being genuine though.

Even if Carrie had wanted to answer Eric's question, his tongue was shoved so far down her throat she couldn't get her words out. "Eric," she finally gasped, jerking her head back from his with a breathy laugh as she felt his thumb start to lift the hem of her cheerleading skirt. "You're gonna get us both detention."

"I can't help it," he chuckled, pulling her back towards him for another seemingly endless stream of kisses. "I missed you." And whilst a stupefied grin played at his constantly interlocking lips, something didn't feel quite right with Carrie. Her kisses were lazy, almost reluctant, and whilst her body normally felt like putty between his palms, today it felt…stiff. She seemed distracted. And because Eric's head was only ever swimming with thoughts of her, this worried him. "Hey," he gently prompted, nudging her chin with his knuckle to bring her gaze up to meet his. "Everything ok?"

Carrie's breath stuck in her throat, too scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two sets of brown eyes to dare to leave. Eric's sat beneath a pair of thick, furrowed brows, marred with insecure concern, and she could feel Juliet's boring holes into the back of her skull, begging her to remember everything they’d just spoken about. Tensions were high in her usually spacious brain - thoughts flying back and forth too quickly for her to make sense of as she tried to let her conscience guide her in the right direction. And although she felt herself inching towards a blonde ponytail-bolstered confession, her conscience's valiant efforts were all for naught. Carrie's fingers found purchase in the bristly blond hairs at the nape of Eric's neck, her cheeks were dusted in the scent of spearmint and the sweaty must from his football helmet. The profound warmth of his embrace seeped into her bones, and she curled up into it like a cat in the glow of fireplace embers - helpless to resist. "Everything's great," she promised, drawn in by the comfort of familiarity. "I just missed you too."

Disappointed, but not surprised by her best friend's decision, Juliet sighed as she tore her gaze away from the stomach-churning couple and began gathering together her and Carrie's things. She'd get through to her eventually, she had faith in the pit of her steadily grumbling gut. She just needed to be patient…or to find something that could drive a wedge between them once and for all.

"Ethan!"

The pint-size pothead almost jumped out of his skin at the barked greeting, which actually felt more like an accusation than a 'hello'. He didn't know what was more offensive, the girl's tone or the fact that she'd interrupted his concert-for-one.

"Jesus, Mick! You scared the shit outta me!" he cried.

Rolling her eyes, Mick let go of the headphone speaker she'd had to pry away from Ethan's ear after he'd blatantly ignored her fifth call of his name, letting it thwack the side of his head. The look on his face as he recoiled in bewilderment did have a faint smile tugging at her lips though. But it soon disappeared when he slumped back in his seat and readied himself to tune her out again.

Moving to stand in front of his desk, Mick didn't give him a chance. "Where's Miles?"

"What?" Ethan squeaked.

"Where's Miles?" she reiterated, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding at the empty seat beside him.

"He's talking to Carrie," he revealed with a blasé wave of his hand in the vague direction of the pair.

Even with AC/DC blasting through his headphones, Ethan swore he heard Mick's face crack.

"He's doing what now?" she demanded, flames roaring in the mahogany logs that made up her irises.

"He's just asking her something, it's no big deal," Ethan said - although his attempts to reassure the brunette were ham-handed at best given his lazy grin and total lack of concern.

This was further backed up by Mick's growing urge to strangle him. "Can I not trust you to do anything?" she hissed.

"What did I do?" Ethan squawked in indignation.

"Nothing - that's the problem! All you had to do was keep his mind off her-"

"I don't know what fucking mind-control powers you think I've got, Mick, but that was a bogus plan in the first place."

"Oh so what? You just weren't gonna go along with it at all?" Mick scoffed. "I just said to try to keep him distracted."

"And I tried, so I don't know what you're getting all pissy at me for," Ethan retorted. "What's so wrong with him talking to her anyway? I thought 'working through your feelings' was supposed to be a good thing."

Scowling at him for using her own advice against her, she snapped, "Talking to her is not helping him distance himself from her." But when her eyes scanned the room for that familiar mop of coffee brown hair, the sight it settled on made her heart drop to her collegiate green Campuses. "And neither is a run-in with Eric Brennan."

Trailing back to his seat, muttering to himself about the mystifying female mindset and what the hell all of that could have meant, Miles soon realised he wasn't looking where he was going when he collided with what felt like a wall of meat.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered.

When he looked up and saw who it was that had almost knocked him off his feet though, he realised his assumption hadn't been too far off.

"Woah, watch it, man," Eric guffawed.

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the smirk that blossomed as soon as his gaze landed on him, made Miles' stomach twist. Something told him that this interaction wasn't going to be nearly as quick as he'd hoped.

"Miles, right?" Eric went on to ask, eyebrow cocked in recognition.

"Uh, yeah," Miles stammered, although he was more confused than concerned at this point.

"Why you in such a hurry, bud? You got somewhere to be?" he continued, a charming smirk still sitting proudly on his chiselled jaw.

"I'm just going back to my seat."

"Oh yeah?" Eric probed, steadily turning up the pressure. "And why were you out of it?"

Miles immediately regretted the exasperated huff that fell from his lips, but he couldn't help his frustration. "Why does it matter?"

To Miles' surprise, the jock didn't snap back at his remark - there was no sign of meat-headed defensiveness at all. Instead, the guy just laughed. "It doesn't," he reassured with a jovial smile. "I just thought I'd ask 'cause, you know, from here it kind of looked like you were going over there to talk to my girlfriend."

Any relief that jovial smile had filled Miles with steadily leaked out as Eric's words sunk in. "I was just asking her about our work schedule," he explained with a careful, albeit tight smile of his own.

"Yeah?" Eric tested.

"...Yeah," Miles confirmed. Although he could feel his bravery slowly shrinking under the hulking weight of Eric's arched eyebrow, he stood his ground, hoping that a nonchalant tone and a set of squared shoulders was enough to convince the dopey blond.

"Oh well, that's a relief," he said with another booming guffaw. Miles' wishes were seemingly granted as the warning smirk slipped from Eric's face, replaced with a laidback grin. "There I was thinking you might have been trying to make a move on her or something."

Miles managed to eke out a chuckle, more at his own expense than anything. "I wouldn't do that, man," he promised through a freshly starched smile. "I know you're both very happy together."

Eric's shit-eating grin must have been powered by at least three AAs with the way it lit up his face. "That we are, my man," he proudly proclaimed. "And that's good to hear 'cause I know you spend a lot of time with her at the end of your shifts, and she says you two get along super well, so I'd hate to think that you were getting the wrong idea or-"

"Not at all," Miles assured, cutting the blond off before he could drive the knife any further into his chest. Fixing a plastic smile to his face to cover up the wistful sigh that escaped between his teeth, he delivered an admittedly painful, "We're just friends."

Eric's rich brown eyes seemed to scan every inch of Miles for any sign of a lie before he proceeded, and the brunet's lack of acting skills left him squirming like a worm on a hook as a result. But the satisfied grin that soon surfaced, dropping the tensed shoulders to help it rise, told Miles the quarterback probably needed an eye test.

"Good," Eric said with a contented sigh. "'Cause you and I both know that it'd be stupid to think anything else, right?" he went on to cockily taunt. "Like, no offence, but she'd have to be fucking insane to choose you over me… Right, Miles?"

Although his ego was severely bruised, to save his face from meeting the same fate, Miles forced himself to maintain a smile, albeit reluctantly. "Right," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Eric smirked, finally satisfied that Miles had taken enough of an emotional pounding if his lazy grin and affectionate arm bump was anything to go by. "Alright, nice talk, bro. I might catch you tonight if I drop by to see her, ok?"

"I'll be there," Miles verified with a strained sigh. Finally daring to drop his gaze from the sturdy blond, he made his escape without so much as a goodbye.

Apparently Eric thought he could take a little advice on the road with him though.

"Remember, watch yourself, Murphy," he hollered.

But the words didn't even register with Miles, because the swift shove between his shoulder blades was so jarring his entire focus was dragged to keeping himself upright.

Miles kept his eyes trained on the scuffed linoleum as he hastily lumbered back over to his desk, cheeks burning with self-hatred as he tried to push Eric’s no doubt smirking face out of his mind. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he finally dared to lift his head again.

“Are you ok?” Mick asked, expression overrun with an almost frantic concern. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine,” Miles brushed off, retrieving his threadbare backpack from its spot, slumped on the floor in one swoop. Haphazardly shoving the books from his desk into the main compartment, he mumbled a quick, “Can we just go?”

But Ethan’s glassy-eyed intrigue held him firmly in place. “Yo, what happened, man? Did he bust you for flirting with her?”

“No,” Miles sighed, wearily shaking his head at the stoner’s excitement.

“Did you flirt with her?” he pressed.

"No, I just- ugh," Miles huffed, quickly giving up on trying to explain the situation he didn't even fully understand himself. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"I told you to just forget about her," Mick sighed.

"Yeah, well, that's a lot easier said than done, Mick," Miles retorted, returning her disapproving frown with a defensive one of his own.

"Did you at least get some closure?" Ethan offered as he rose from his desk - partly from curiosity, partly to try to prove a point to Mick.

Whilst Miles' tongue instinctively prepared to shoot Ethan's optimism down, his brain jumped in to tell it to hold fire. And after a few, brief seconds recalling the interaction, his answer soon changed. "Actually, I kind of did," he admitted with a chuckle of incredulity.

"You gonna try to talk about it more with her tonight then?" Ethan asked, smirking to himself at Mick's look of disbelief.

"Fuck no," Miles snorted with a nonchalance that took both of his friends by surprise. "I just want to forget it ever happened- just…move on."

"From her?" Mick asked, trying to hide the hopeful edge in her tone with a gentle smile.

Sparing the blonde in question one last glance over his shoulder, only to catch the tail end of her and Eric getting pulled up for their excessive PDA by their (up until now) entirely uninterested study hall supervisor, he let out a wistful sigh. A chorus of voices swelled in his head - Mick's, Ethan's, Carrie's, Eric's - each one telling a different side to the same story. He couldn't have picked one to listen to if he'd tried. So, in the end, his own took over, steering his heart down a path that promised the least damage in the long term, and that Carrie's indifferent dismissal of him had already forged in his mind. "...That's the goal."

#I know this part may seem a little boring because there's so much talking and so little 'doing'#but i promise that these conversations are all setting important foundations for stuff further down the line #you'll just have to trust me for now though #plus a lot of *interesting* dynamics are established in this part #*wink wink*#and get excited because in the next part we're heading back to All Skate #and the *real* action's finally going to start kicking off...#also I'm super sorry about being so inconsistent with my posts #finding time to write over the past few months with my crazy schedule and pretty poor mental health has been virtually impossible #but I really want to be better about that by the time I go back to uni in september #so hopefully I can find more time for myself and get some real progress made on this story and ASDO #anyway i've rambled too much #i'll let you go but I hope you enjoyed the chapter #and i hope it was a nice surprise after all the chaos you've been going through lately <3 #p.s. i know the order of things gets a bit weird at the end but I didn't know how else to write it without it sounding super choppy #basically eric bumps into miles before he goes over to greet her after class #his whole chat with miles is happening whilst carrie's having her little heart to heart with juliet #just thought i'd mention it because I wasn't sure how clear it was and my 2am brain is not a trustworthy resource

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