#Chapter 11 coming at you LIVE in about. An hour?? Maybe less? on ao3!

[safyresky]

Crystal Springs FACT of the day: there are 2 (two) reasons Winter doesn't normally freeze dry/snow blow her hair.

One is, of course, reminders of past trauma.

But the second one, which is the BIG one, is that it does not last. The MOMENT she is in Blaise's near vicinity, it's melting.

Jacqueline finds herself afflicted with this exact same plight whenever she's around Dite 🤔

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Eleven

Summary:

You and Astarion have a little check-in about your preferences.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.1k Tags/Warnings: mentions of many, many different kinks, slightly less than ideal kink negotiation, choking, blood drinking, fingering, rough sex, honestly all the standard stuff at this point

I swear I'm not doing this intentionally, but I'm finally posting chapter 11 when the draft for chapter 12 is up on my Kofi. Eventually I'll get my shit back on schedule.

As always, the professor screenshot is from @zipzoomzaria.

Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist

The sky outside your living room window is streaked with orange and purple from the nearly set sun. Lying on your couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table, you open an incognito tab on your phone. No sense in ruining your algorithm. You search ‘BDSM checklist’ and click on the first result, an extensive PDF that looks relatively promising. You’re trying to not be judgmental, but as you scroll through the list you’re plagued with thoughts ranging from “Wait, that’s a kink? Isn’t that just standard?” to “People are actually into that?” to “Oh. Oh.”

Your eyes scan down the list. There are just so many options that you hadn’t considered. 

Bondage – light: yes. Bondage – heavy: maybe? Bondage – all day/multi day: definitely not. Collars – worn in private: absolutely. Collars – worn in public: …maybe?

You picture yourself walking around with Astarion in public with a collar on. Maybe not something so explicit as a dog collar, but like a little choker? Just for you and him? The thought sends a small thrill up your spine. You keep scrolling.

Fetishes: boot worship, cock worship, corsets… sure. Cross dressing? The image of Astarion wearing lacy lingerie and giving you a come hither stare over his glasses brings a light flush to your cheeks.

You open up your text messages and stare at your sparse conversation with him. The picture of His Majesty chewing on The 48 Laws of Power is still prominent, making you smile. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you have no idea what to say. Come over so we can compare kinks? I want to tell you in explicit detail all of the depraved things I want you to do to me? You drop your head back on the couch and stare at your ceiling for a few minutes while you try to sort through your thoughts. Better to be simple and direct, right? After a heavy sigh, you type:

-Do you have plans tonight? Do you want to come over?

You pause before hitting send, suddenly unsure. Why is this the thing giving you anxiety? It’s still hard to be so forthright with him while every instinct screams at you to play it cool. With another huff you clench your jaw and hit send.

You put your phone face down on the couch next to you so you’re not tempted to stare at it. You start to feel antsy without anything for your hands to do and your eyes trace the dents in your worn down popsocket. The seconds stretch on for what feels like hours, and you’re convinced that you’ve said the wrong thing. That he’s changed his mind and decided that you’re not worth the effort after all.

Finally you hear the soft hum of your phone buzz, and you frantically flip it over to read his answer.

-I’d love to. Shall I bring anything? A leash, perhaps?

You giggle and squeal and press your thighs together all at once. You settle back on the couch and tuck your feet beneath you, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. An apt comparison, honestly.

-Not yet, but maybe one of those fancy expensive wines.

Your heart thrums as your eyes dart around your apartment, making sure it isn’t too messy. You generally keep it fairly tidy, although compared to Astarion’s place yours is downright spotless. The briefest image flashes through your mind of the two of you living together before you internally scold yourself. Absolutely not, it’s way too soon for those thoughts.

Your phone buzzes again, and you look over at it, surprised.

-You’re still my favorite vintage, darling. 🤍🩸

If someone had been around to hear the noise you just made, you would’ve vehemently denied it.

***

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally hear the knock on the door. You quickly check your hair in the mirror before opening it, and there he is, looking as dashing as ever in a lavender button down and forest green trousers. His collar is undone just enough to get a peek of the delicate silver chains resting on his collarbone, and his sleeves are rolled up, showing off his sinewy forearms. You take the bottle from his hand, your fingers lingering on his wrist momentarily, and gesture for him to come inside. You put the wine down on the counter and turn back to him as he slips his hands around your waist, his cool hands resting on the skin of your lower back below your crop top. You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, gently pressing your lips to his. 

“Hi,” you murmur with a shy smile.

“Hi,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. You pull away reluctantly and open the cabinets to take out glasses for wine. Astarion glances down at your socked feet and then over to your shoe rack by the door.

“Oh, erm… would you like me to remove my shoes?” he asks, uncertainty apparent in his voice.

“Oh!” You didn’t consider that he probably hasn’t spent much time in other people’s spaces, and you don’t want to push him outside his comfort zone. “Well, uh… you don’t have to, I guess.” He studies your expression and frowns.

“I feel as though you’d like me to,” he says carefully, and then before you can respond, he walks over to the shoe rack and slips off his shoes, placing them neatly on top of the rack.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and he crosses back to you and kisses your temple. You linger in his scent for a moment longer before turning toward your tablet resting on your kitchen island. You unlock the screen and pull up the checklist you had been perusing earlier, then slide it over to him to look at.

“So in the spirit of, you know, being on the same page about things,” you tell him as you pull out your kitschy pirate-shaped corkscrew, “I wanted to look at a list of like, things to try, and I dunno, talk about it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous about this. You certainly don’t have much experience with being so explicit about your desires, preferring instead to rely on nonverbal communication with partners. Which, in retrospect, might explain more than a few disappointing experiences.

Astarion brushes your hair back from your neck and lightly runs his nose along your ear, eliciting a shiver. “You wouldn’t just rather have a repeat of the evening at the bowling alley?” You lean your head back into him for a moment, savoring his touch, before steeling yourself and pulling away.

“No, we should actually talk about it,” you sigh heavily, barely able to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“Having a conversation, how novel,” he says with that high-pitched giggle you find so very charming. You pour generous servings of wine and take a long sip before settling yourself onto a barstool. 

“So they split it into different categories, and then there are a lot of subcategories,” you explain, trying to be chill about it and only mostly succeeding.

“People can get very specific about their wants, it’s true,” he agrees sagely, and you’re suddenly reminded of his centuries of experience over you. You try not to let that make you feel even more insecure than you already do.

“Right. So um… blindfolds, light bondage, chains.” You make little check marks next to the ones you’re interested in with your tablet pen.

“Collars, I believe you articulated something along those lines,” he smiles at you salaciously, and you take a deep sip of your wine to hide your embarrassment. He places his hand on your lower back reassuringly, and you muster the resolve to continue scanning down the list.

“Various cuffs sound good to me, although I’m not sure if I know what ‘handcuff style’ means,” you say, putting the pen to your lips in thought. 

“May I?” he asks, holding out his hands to indicate that he’s asking for permission to demonstrate it on you. You nod and slip off the barstool, and in an instant he has you spun around and your wrists pinned together behind your back. He’s gentle enough, but uses just the right amount of force to make you gasp. “Do you like that?” His voice is low in your ear and your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.

“I, uh… think you can surmise the answer to that,” you tease a little breathlessly, and the puff of air from his chuckle tickles your neck.

“Perhaps, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I want to hear you say it.” He punctuates the sentence by tightening the grip on your hands ever so slightly.

“Then yes, I do.” The words come out a little strained but he deems your answer satisfactory. He releases your wrists and you turn back to him to see him with an incredibly smug grin. You playfully shove his face and return to the list, and he leans over your shoulder to read along with you.

“Thoughts on gags?” he asks, and you think it over for a moment. 

“I think probably not, although maybe tape, just none of these other ones. I don’t want to get all drool-y.” You throw him a mischievous glance over your shoulder. “Although on you, I might reconsider.” You stick your knuckle in his mouth and he closes his lips around your finger, sucking on it while keeping his eyes trained on you. He pulls your finger out with a lewd pop and pulls your wrist into his lips, grazing his fangs along your pulse point. 

“You’d be hurting yourself more than helping, darling,” he murmurs into your skin, and you bite your lip in an attempt to control your breathing. He uses your momentary distraction to snatch the pen out of your hand. “And I’ll go ahead and put a tick next to ‘leashes’ right here.”

“I thought you wanted to hear me say it,” you needle him back, pressing up against him unnecessarily to retrieve the pen.

“Oh I most certainly would,” he purrs, and you feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You continue scanning down the list, adding checkmarks to some of the things you’ve already done. You reach ‘blood play’ and add a check. Astarion leans down and gives your neck a quick little nip, not enough to break the skin, but enough to make you yelp. 

“Fetishes,” you read, tapping the pen to your lips. “You know, I’m definitely into some of these things, corsets, high heels – I might even still have some of the costume pieces from when I was in Venus in Fur that they let me keep.”

Astarion’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Venus in Furs, as in, the Sacher-Masoch book?”

“Based on it, yeah. Venus in Fur, singular, by David Ives.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing some production photos from that,” he teases, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt.

“Well maybe I should just model the costume for you in person,” you murmur, turning into his chest and tilting your chin upward. He follows your lead, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. Your head grows foggy with lust and you finally push him away. “Focus,” you scold yourself as much as him.

“I am extremely focused right now,” he hums, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Hmm, prove it,” you retort, and tap the pen on your tablet screen. “What are your thoughts, um. On crossdressing.” You’re a little embarrassed to ask, but you continue to barrel through your shame. Jaheira would be proud.

“Would you like that?” His voice remains just as lust-filled and you flush a deep red. “Seeing me in a cute little skirt and thigh high stockings?”

The image in your mind is vivid: Astarion straddling your lap, a miniskirt flaring out from his hips and his cock pressing against you through thin satin panties. You nearly start hyperventilating.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe heavily.

“Duly noted,” he says with a giggle. You blink to focus your eyes back to reality and return to the list.

“Humiliation?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Yeah, me neither. Impact and rough play. Uh…” you scan through the list, putting down a few checks – face slapping, riding crops, spanking. “Oh. Um. Non-monogamy.” You turn to him to gauge his expression. He returns your gaze equally carefully.

“Is that something that interests you?” he asks, his voice neutral. 

“Probably not dating… um… but I could consider a threesome, like, with the right person. Unless you’re not into that,” you add quickly, and his lips curl into a smile.

“We can cross that bridge if we come to it,” he replies and plants a kiss in your hair. 

“Okay, I like that,” you hum appreciatively. You move onto the next category. “Role play. None of these are of particular interest to me, probably… ugh, schoolroom scenes, I can’t.” You shudder and he lets out a cackle.

“Not interested in a professor/student roleplay?” he asks with a roguish smile. “No looking for extra credit to get your grade up?”

You have another visceral reaction. “Too close to home, no thank you. Although…”

“Reconsidering?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“No! I was just looking… Well, two jump out at me. Uh…” you struggle against your internalized shame and let out a growl of frustration. He takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him. His cool touch is a soothing balm against the fiery heat in your cheeks.

“Darling, you can tell me. Trust me, I’m sure it isn’t anything I haven’t already heard.” His voice is gentle, but there’s almost a sadness behind it that you can’t place. You take a deep breath and hold onto his hand, keeping it pressed against your cheek.

“Okay. The first one is fear play. Like… I like when you get a little animalistic. Almost a predator/prey kind of thing.” You avoid his gaze despite his insistence, but you power through. “The other one is switching roles. I may have… fantasized… about you being a bit of a needy sub.” You almost swallow your last few words before looking up to his gaze again. His red eyes are completely inscrutable. 

“Well, I’m more than happy to hunt you down, love,” he leers at you and your breath catches. Then his expression falters, shifting into something more contemplative. “As for the second…” Your whole body tenses in anticipation of the ‘but.’ “I’d have to think about it. I don’t relish the idea of giving up that much control.”

“Ohmygodsnoit’stotallyfinewedon’thavetotalkaboutiteveragain.” The words pour out of your mouth in a barely coherent jumble. He laughs and pulls your face into his, giving you a tender kiss.

“I said I’d think about it, darling, not that it’s an outright no.” He searches your eyes for any indication of understanding, and you nod. He looks back at the next category on the list. “Sensation play, non-impact,” he reads, and he laughs when his eyes fall on ‘biting/being bitten.’

“Yeah, I guess that one’s pretty obvious,” you say sheepishly, putting a check next to it. He looms over your shoulder and you feel the electricity crackling between the two of you.

“Now, I’d like to ask for a point of clarification,” he considers while pointing at ‘breath control (choking)’ and ‘breath control (mild restriction.)’

“Uh-huh?” you ask, barely trusting yourself to articulate words. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings his hand to your throat hesitantly, a silent question. You give him a shallow but prolonged nod, your breath quickening with excitement. He closes his hand slowly, testing the pressure. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan.

“Mild?” he asks, his voice husky. Your fingers curl and flex on the counter, dropping the tablet pen.

“Yeah,” you squeak out, your blood pounding in your ears. His eyes glint with a devilish fire and a smile slowly creeps onto his lips. 

“Good,” he hums, low and dangerous. He studies your face for a moment longer, turning your chin left and right, almost like he’s examining you. Your body trembles, waiting for his next move. He suddenly pulls you up onto your toes, your face close to his, his nails digging into your flesh. You whine, high and loud and undeniably aroused. 

He continues with his interrogation. “And how is this? Yes or no, pet.” Under any other circumstances, his voice might be considered gentle. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your voice cracking. 

“Yes, what?” he spits through gritted teeth, tightening his hand and tearing another wanton moan from your lips.

“Y-yes daddy,” the word tumbles out of you before you can even think to stop it. 

Evidently it was the correct answer because his features split with a feral grin as he snarls, “That’s my good girl,” before crushing your lips into his. You grasp weakly at his hips as he devours you, and you’re more than happy to let him. He slides his hands under your ass and plunks you down on the island. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it over your head, pulling your hips in closer to his waist as he continues to ravage your lips.

He snakes his hand into your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to his destruction. “Little love, tell me what you desire,” he growls into your ear, and you clutch your arms around his shoulders.

“You,” you manage to gasp out, “I- ah- I want you. To have your way with me. Destroy me, consume me, take your fill. I want you, Astarion.” You tense up, waiting for his bite, but instead he leaves a trail of sloppy kisses and nips down your chest. He closes his lips around your nipple under your bra, sucking on it through the lace. You run your fingers through his curls and drop your head back with a moan. 

Before you can adjust to the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, his lips continue their journey down your stomach and to the waistband of your skirt. He hikes it up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties and pulls them down past your knees, discarding them onto the kitchen floor. He hovers his mouth over your slick cunt and shifts his gaze up to you. You can feel his cool breath and you whimper and squirm, aching for any part of him. 

“Your hand, love,” he purrs as he reaches out for your wrist, pulling your fingers to your swollen clit. You groan as you make contact, instinctively rubbing little circles to give yourself the relief you crave. He slides his nimble fingers into your cunt and you jerk your hips into him, clenching around him and breathing heavily. He slowly pumps his fingers as you massage your clit, never taking his eyes off you. It’s almost too intense and you want to look away, but you’re transfixed. His lips drift to your inner thigh, his fangs ghosting over your skin.

“Please,” you mewl, and the breath from his laugh tickles your thigh. He straightens up and puts his lips to your ear, his fingers never straying from their tortuous pace. 

“You’re going to listen closely to what I’m about to say and you will follow my instructions, understood?” You whimper out a noise of assent, trying to match your fingers to his. “I’m going to bite you, and you’re going to continue touching yourself while I drink. And you’re not going to be stingy with those needy little moans of yours, my sweet, I want to hear and taste you come.”

“Yes sir,” you squeal, and your breath quickly turns into a groan when he sinks his teeth into you. Your fingers slow at the overwhelm of sensation, but when his own fingers speed up as he takes in long greedy pulls of your blood, your need becomes almost unbearable. You clutch at the back of his head with one hand as the other services your clit, and you pant in his ear as he drinks. “Fuck, Astarion, gods, yes,” you gasp the explitives into his hair. Your hips buck into your hand as you bring yourself closer, aided by his fingers dragging against your walls and his tongue lapping at your neck. You quickly grow dizzy with lust and blood loss, your vision clouding you ramp up to the edge. Your fingers tangle into his curls as your whimpers and whines grow high and needy. When you feel the vibration of his own groan against your skin, your orgasm crashes down on you, your cunt and neck both throbbing with pleasure. He rides it out with you, lazily licking your wounds closed.

He pulls away from you and the sight of his lips red with your blood sends another surge through you, and you grab his face and kiss him roughly. He wraps his arms around your waist, the fingers on his left hand still sticky with your cum. You claw at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his cool, smooth chest. Once you’ve rid him of the offending clothing, you break the kiss to catch your breath, sliding your hands over his shoulders and down his arms. He growls with a low appreciation.

“My darling, you taste delectable,” he hums and swipes his thumb across your lips, collecting a drop of your blood and sucking it off lasciviously. You pant and look at him through blurry eyes, your legs still shaking. He pulls you off the counter and your knees buckle as you land, barely able to hold up your weight. “On your knees, my treasure.”

You happily drop to the floor, never taking your eyes off his. He towers over you with a sinister smile and you slide your hands around the back of his thighs, just trying to brace yourself. Your mouth hangs open, hungry for him but waiting for instructions. He cards his hand through your hair, letting it run around your ear and down under your chin.

“So eager for me,” he says in a low voice, and he slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it fervently, keeping your carnal gaze on him, aching to please. His eyes flutter closed briefly and he lets out a long breath. You keen into his thumb, a nonverbal plea for his cock. He yanks his digit back from your mouth and closes his hand around your throat once more, bending over for a heated kiss. When he finally releases you, you’re panting again, the whimpers practically uncontrollable.

He begins to unbuckle his pants and you pull up on your knees, begging like a needy pup. “Little love, is this what you want? My cock shoved down your throat?” He pulls out his erection, engorged and flushed pink with your blood, as you nod with a whine. “Good. Open,” he commands and you dutifully obey, taking him as far into your mouth as you can. You swallow down your gag reflex, keeping your eyes trained on him as his head falls back with a moan. You bob your head on his cock, your nails digging into the back of his thighs. He tangles his hand into your hair and you hold still as he thrusts into your mouth. 

“Fuck, Tav,” he hisses and you moan around his cock, spurred on by that jolt of electricity you only get from hearing him say your name. He yanks your hair to pull you off his cock, and he looks at you with wild eyes for a moment before pushing you down onto your back. The kitchen tile is hard and cool against your skin, and you’re all too aware of every knot and point of tension along your back. But your legs fall open for him anyway as he pulls his pants down to his knees and positions himself at your entrance. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, gathering your wetness and spreading it down onto the shaft with his hand. 

“Please,” you croak, your hips canting upwards towards him. He lets out a shuddering breath that’s almost a laugh. 

“Use your words, love.” His voice is thick with lust, which just sets you off more.

“Please,” you beg with even more desperation, “please fuck me and choke me, Astarion. Please.” You’re almost crying with need at this point, and the noise you make when he finally buries himself into you up to the hilt is utterly obscene. He grabs your throat and digs his fingers into the side of your larynx, just barely restricting your air supply. He pounds into you with long, powerful strokes, and you claw at the kitchen floor to keep yourself from sliding backwards. You let out a strained cry with each thrust, pleasure and sensation overwhelming your body.

“Look at me,” he snarls with a slight squeeze on your throat, and you snap your gaze to him. He looks borderline bestial, his eyes wild with bloodlust, his hair falling over his glasses. His expression alone would have been enough to get another orgasm out of you, but the look paired with the feeling of his controlling and possessive hand around your throat sends you careening off the edge with a cry. A few more broken thrusts of his hips and he’s following, his cock throbbing as he spills into you. He falls forward onto your stomach limply, breathing heavily as you push the curls back off his sweaty forehead.

You reach across your alleyway kitchen and grab a dish towel hanging off your oven door. Astarion slides out of you and you gently wipe your combined spend off his cock. When you look up you catch him staring at you adoringly. 

“What?” you shy away as he pulls his pants back up, and he chuckles.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that, is all.” He takes the towel from your hand and returns the favor, wiping down your inner thigh before crawling toward you and planting a featherlight kiss on your lips. A thousand different thoughts run through your head before you resolutely decide to continue the conversation from earlier. You strain your neck up at the kitchen island above you and frown.

“My tablet is so far away,” you pout, reaching upward pathetically. He rolls his eyes and stands to retrieve your tablet and your wine glass, handing them to you as you lean your back against the island cabinets. “My hero,” you croon as he sits down beside you, taking his own glass with him. He takes a long sip while watching you out of the corner of the eye and you pull the list back up.

“Now where were we?” You scoot over towards him and loop your arm through his, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“I believe we got side tracked right around ‘breath control,’” he says as he takes the pen off the side of the tablet and puts checks next to the relevant entries. You shove him with your body and continue your journey down the list. You consider a few more – temperature play, sensory deprivation, teasing… 

“Ooh, this one is specific to elves!” you squeal with delight when your eyes land on ‘ear play - elves.’ You quickly nip at his earlobe and he makes a shuddering moan, a somewhat disproportionate response for how relatively tame your action is.

“Ah- yes, I thought you had figured that one out,” he quavers with a laugh, and you suddenly redden.

“Oh. Ohh.” It suddenly dawns on you that the differences between elf and human anatomy are more than just visual. “Is that something you like? That you’re okay with?”

He laughs. “Yes, very much so, just be cautious with it if you don’t want things to come to a sudden, messy end.”

You nod and then add mischievously, “Good to know.” You turn your eyes back to the list. “What the fuck are vampire gloves?” You google the phrase while Astarion scoffs.

“There’s nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?” he spits, venom apparent in his voice. You look up from your phone, which is displaying pictures of leather gloves with spiked palms.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a little nervous. His vampiric nature has become an integral part of your relationship, but it’s never come up so explicitly.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales heavily. “I’ve just had more than my fair share of lovers who were more interested in my fangs than in me.”

You freeze beside him as he continues to scroll through the list with his finger. You’d like him regardless of whether he’s a vampire or not – in fact, you didn’t even know when you first discovered your attraction to him. But you certainly don’t feel neutral about it, and now you’re worried that you’ve fetishized him.

“Love?” He turns to you, since he must have heard your heart stop. You chew on your lip uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry if I, like, made it weird,” you mutter, your cheeks red hot.

“What? Darling, no,” he hushes you reassuringly. “It’s different when it’s you.”

You wrinkle your nose with incredulity. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like it is.”

“My sweet, you have a stunning pair of tits,” he begins, and the non sequitur makes you bark out a laugh. “What I’m saying is that it’s something that I like about you, but it’s not the only thing I like about you. And I’m sure you’ve met your fair share of people who only saw you as a walking rack.” You smile, but you’re still not fully convinced. Your eyes linger on the right side of his neck, hidden from view but you can see the bite mark with perfect clarity in your mind’s eye. He brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Darling, I haven’t exactly been subtle about how I feel about your blood,” he says in a smoky voice, and a shiver runs up your spine, “even moreso when you’re aroused. I wouldn’t change that, not for all the moonstones in Evereska.”

You pout for a moment longer while he gazes at you earnestly. “And you promise to tell me if I get weird about it?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your hairline. “Yes, I promise to tell you if you get weird about it.” Your words sound odd in his posh accent, but it gets a smile out of you nonetheless. “Now, I believe the next category is ‘Service and Restricted-slash-Controlled Behavior.’ Well, that’s certainly a mouthful.”

“Funny, you were a mouthful not that long ago,” you say with a licentious grin. 

“Hmm, points for clever wordplay, but reduced marks for low hanging fruit. B+.” He glances at you over his glasses and you gawk at him.

“Excuse me, did you just grade my dirty joke?”

“I hold myself to a higher standard, and I expect the same of you,” he says haughtily and you roll your eyes.

“I think it was at least an A-,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Of course you would, professor,” he smirks at you.

“Are you calling me an easy grader?” you gasp, your affront over the top and theatrical. 

“No, just easy,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss, to which you respond by biting his lip. You snatch the pen out his hand and look back at the list. One in particular jumps out at you.

“Oh, the dress that you got me, you know, the night you did the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me?” you say, and you can feel him tense up beside you. 

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am for that? And also how wonderful and talented and intelligent you are?” His words carry an air of jest but the concern in his eyes is real.

“And funny?” You widen your smile in an attempt to set him at ease.

“Well, let’s not go that far.” He visibly relaxes when it’s clear you’re just teasing.

“Anyway,” you glare at him playfully, “I was going to say that I liked that. I like when you pick out clothes for me.”

“Then I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a raised eyebrow. Then his voice drops as he breathes, “You truly were a vision in that dress. I’ll have another one made, if it’s to your liking.” You close your eyes contentedly as he nuzzles your ear, and all you can do is nod. You finally clear your throat to shift your attention back to the list.

“Oh, how about chores?” you muse, tossing him a snarky grin. “Do you think you’d want to don a cute little maid’s outfit and clean my apartment?”

“You could sell me on the maid’s outfit, but darling, you’ve seen my home, you know that I’m not one for cleaning.”

Your mind supplies the very unhelpful image of Astarion wearing a French maid outfit and your brain short circuits. Astarion catches you glitching and laughs.

“Someone is very enthusiastic about seeing me in a dress,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Shut up, you’re just really cute,” you mumble, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“Serving other Doms, supervised only,” he reads. “Well, as long as I get to watch.” His voice drops salaciously and you stifle a giggle.

“Like the idea of watching me beg for some big strong Dom?” you volley back, trying to keep your cool.

“Darling, I just like watching you beg.” His voice rumbles low in his chest and you shiver. You move onto the next category, sexual activity and penetration, and wordlessly check entries that, for you at least, just feel pretty standard. Astarion takes the pen from you and puts a check next to ‘strap-on-dildos.’ You glance at him with raised eyebrows and he just smirks in response.

Despite the amount of semi-public sex the two of you have had, you don’t give the next category, ‘Voyeurism and Exhibitionism,’ much attention. The final category, ‘Magic in the Bedroom,’ gives you pause.

Astarion scrolls through the list with his finger, musing, “Since neither of us are magic users, I imagine we’d simply go shopping for scrolls together.”

“Hey Astarion,” you say, and he turns his head to you.

“Hmm?”

“The charm person potion. That I found in your trash.” You keep your voice even, and he frowns.

“Ah. Yes. I, erm… I’m still very sorry for that.” His voice is uncharacteristically stilted.

“Why did you do it?” you ask quietly. You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but you still want to hear him say it. He exhales a deep sigh and waits several moments before finally answering.

“I’ve had more than a few close calls with, ah, potential lovers, shall we say.” He stares off into the middle distance and your eyes trace his profile. “I didn’t think you were secretly a Gur, but also, I’d rather not take my chances.”

“And the thing you said about wanting to seem more charismatic?” You put your hand on his knee in an attempt to soothe both him and yourself.

“A lie. Well,” he corrects himself, frowning, “a half-truth. If I could guarantee that you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart, then you finding my otherwise grating personality slightly more charming was merely a bonus.”

You study his face for a moment longer and then take your hand and turn his chin so he’s facing you. “Hey. Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“I was selfish,” he growls, the self-hatred pouring out of him in waves. “I was so focused on my own safety that how you might feel about it didn’t even occur to me.” He clenches his jaw and you put your tablet on the floor and sidle yourself between his legs. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your bare skin flush against his.

“I wish you hadn’t,” you murmur into his ear. “But I understand why you did. I’m certainly no stranger to feeling unsafe on a date. There are other ways to guarantee your safety, but I think you know that now.”

He lets out a shuddering breath followed by a quiet laugh. “I don’t relish you seeing me like this.”

“Too bad, get treasured, idiot,” you giggle and he pulls out of the hug to take your face in his hands and give you a sensual kiss. You melt into his arms, breathing in his scent deeply. “Bed?” you ask, and he nods silently. You stand and help pull him to his feet, leading him into your bedroom.

[sixpennydame]

North Star ✶ Chapter 11

A Levi Ackerman x oc slow burn

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An opportunity arises, that puts tension between you and Levi.

A/N: I found an amazing, detailed map of Marley on Reddit that has helped me view the geography of Marley and its surrounding locations. If you'd like an idea of where Mursa is, it's in the far SW range of mountains.

“Levi…you’re overthinking it. Let go and trust!”

Mathieu sits in a corner of the training barn and watches as Levi and Demon race around the perimeter. He shifts uncomfortably, attempting to wave his arms, which are still in slings on either side of his chest. 

“Work with Demon, not against him.”

Levi leans in, pulling the right rein just slightly and attempting to give  Demon more control. After finishing a round, he rides toward Mathieu, beads of sweat dotting his forehead despite the cold. He leads Demon to a water trough before getting a drink himself, ignoring the frustrated look on Mathieu’s face.

“You’re still pulling too hard on the reins when you need to make a right turn. I’ve told you to trust Demon to be your sight on your right side.” Mathieu walks toward Demon and attempts to pet him with his bandaged arm. “It’s a partnership, Levi. You can’t be in total control. Give in a little.”

Levi knew this - he’d heard Mathieu yell this at him a hundred times since he’d started training. He knew he needed to trust that Demon knew just the right time to turn, but without his peripheral vision on his right side, he felt too vulnerable. 

Kenny had taught Levi to always be aware of everything going on around him: every sound, smell, and movement could be a possible attack. He’s sure that his keen senses are what kept him alive for much of his life; so of all his injuries, the lack of sight in his eye has been the hardest adjustment to make. Lack of depth perception, difficulty in judging accurate distances and tracking object movement - abilities most people take for granted - were now challenges beyond his control that not even his Ackerman blood could remedy.

He sometimes wondered why he was even attempting this in the first place. 

But then he remembered: it was a challenge. He knew he wasn’t the man he used to be, but riding made him feel alive and caused all his senses to become alert and focused. When everything clicked with him and Demon, it was like being whole again. 

It’s just this damn eye. 

But Levi could adjust - he just needed to focus.

Which meant he needed to think less about you. That was the whole point of moving out of your house anyway.

It wasn’t like you were completely out of his life. You come daily to the stables to brush and ride Astrid, and you’re both amicable to each other, talking about the weather and goings-on in Mursa, as if nothing had happened between the two of you.

But something had happened. Levi couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Did you think about it too?

He checks his watch. A creature of habit, he knew you’d be here at the stables any moment now to check on Astrid and make lunch for them; the latter you’d insisted on doing ever since the accident. Of course, neither of the men would argue with that, although they argued with each other about almost everything else. 

“Ok old man, enough of your badgering,” Levi says, taking Demon’s reins and leading him out of the barn. “I’m working on it.”

”You better work harder. Your first race is only a few months away,” Mathieu yells to Levi’s back.

——- ✶ ——-

You’re learning to live with it, the solemn silence of the mornings without Levi here. That same empty feeling you’d felt in the previous three years, now creeping its way along the floorboards of the house. It’s been a month now since his departure, and looking back on the night he left, and the kiss that had happened hours before, you felt silly for thinking it was anything other than some fantasy. 

Maybe you were meant to be alone, and that was ok. You’d made due before Levi had come into your life and were learning to live with the loneliness. And besides, he was still your friend; that hadn’t changed, thankfully.

But you missed his presence in the house, the conversations shared in the early morning hours when even the sun had not yet risen. It had been mostly you talking, but he was a good listener, someone who looked at you while you were speaking, as if he was weighing every word carefully. On the rare times he did open up, it was like one of those flowers that only blooms every ten years; it felt special and you couldn’t help but listen, enraptured by the stories of his youth and his training for the Survey Corps. You wondered what it must have been like to live the first half of your life underground. And then, to live within the confines of gigantic walls.

When you were young, you often thought of the mountain ranges surrounding Mursa as high, impenetrable walls. You figured most young people felt that way, eager to escape and see more of the world. It was one of the reasons Martin and his younger brother Tomas had joined the military - a bit of freedom and adventure before settling down. But back then, you all knew Tomas would never settle down. He was wild and carefree, an unstoppable force too big for this small town.

Hmmm..

...you hadn’t thought of Tomas in years, not since your return to Mursa after The Rumbling. Although Martin had loved his younger brother with all his heart, they’d never truly gotten along; like two magnets with opposite poles, it was sometimes hard to believe that the two were even related. Tomas had always yearned to travel over the mountains and make his own way in the world, and he had made it clear to everyone that he never planned on returning to Mursa once he left. True to his word, you’ve not heard from him since.

The picture of him and Martin in their Southern Marley military uniforms still stands on the mantle; Martin is smiling, standing proudly in his officer’s uniform, his hand on the shoulder of his brother. Tomas is sitting in a chair, one arm resting on his leg. He’s not smiling, but there’s a fire in his eyes, a look of eagerness. Like so many others around the world, you wonder if he was killed during The Rumbling, or maybe he was living, carefree, in some other part of the world. 

Because he was about the same age as you, everyone had expected you and he to be friends; but throughout the years, Tomas had only ever treated you with indifference, even when you and Martin had married. Although the relationship between the two of you had always been spotty, it would be nice to have family here. Someone who remembers how things used to be, even though those days are long gone.

You walk to your bedroom as your focus changes to the picture of you and Martin on the altar near your bed. Tradition dictates that the altar be taken down after the three years of mourning are over, but in the past month, you just haven’t had the will to put it away. You know Martin has moved on, and you should too, but some things are just hard to let go of.

But there’s a tug at your heart, saying today’s the day.

The silver frame feels heavier than you remember. It had been a wedding gift from Martin’s parents, in a time when silver was a less precious and rare resource. Lilies of the valley had been delicately etched into the surface, with the year of your betrothal engraved at the bottom. You look so young in the photo, even though only a little over 5 years have gone by. You gently wrap the frame in a silk scarf Martin had given you once for your birthday and place it in a small wooden box. 

The other object on the altar is even harder to put away.

In opposition to the frame, the baby booties are soft and feather-light. You remember sitting in the chair in the corner, easily crocheting them in a day, but being so proud of yourself because they’d been the first thing you’d made for the baby. Other things had come after that: a blanket,  a few tiny cardigans and even tinier bonnets. In a fit of grief, you’d burned those things after returning to Mursa three years ago, along with the other things you and Martin had bought for the nursery. It was just too painful to look at.

Looking at the tiny white booties, you regret doing that now.

You place them next to the frame and close the box, then place it in a corner of your closet. In the spring, you’ll bury it next to the large oak tree in the backyard, the one that Martin would always take naps under as a boy, and where you and he would steal kisses behind in your teenage years. Closing your eyes, you can see him now, sleeping under the tree in the heat of midsummer, your child laying on his chest. Peaceful. Content.

The clock chiming for the hour breaks you from your dream. “I need to get to Mathieu’s,” you say to yourself, putting on your warm winter layers before heading out the door and down the road to the stables.

——- ✶ ——-

“Stop pulling on my coat, you silly girl! I need to brush you, and then we’ll go out and stretch your legs.”

Levi smiles when he hears you talking to Astrid. Your voice always goes up just a tad whenever you talk to animals and little kids. With anyone else, he’d think it annoying, but with you, he finds it endearing. The smile on his face is gone by the time he walks past you.

“Astrid’s been a stubborn little shit lately,” he says as he takes the saddle off Demon. “She probably just wants to see you more.”

(He just wants to see you more.)

“I’m already over here for practically half of the morning every day. Maybe you just need to give her more attention.”

”Astrid could care less about me.”

”Awww, did she reject your charms, Levi?” 

Your laugh reverberates through the stable and causes his mouth to turn upward just a bit. He loves this playful side of you. He’d almost think it flirting if he didn’t know that he’d ruined any of those chances. 

He knows he hurt you that night, when he told you the kiss was a mistake. It was written all over your face: the confusion, the rejection. You had smiled, thinking he wouldn’t notice, but you wear your heart on your sleeve.

A heart that Levi isn’t worthy enough to handle. 

Your eyes shine at him as you give him a wink and a smile, before you continue to brush Astrid. 

This is fine. This is enough for him.

”There’s my favorite girl,” Mathieu exclaims, standing at the entrance of the stables before walking towards you. “The best part of the day is when you arrive here. I’m not sure how much longer I could endure Levi’s sullen looks this morning.” Looking over at Levi, he smirks. “But it seems that your arrival has changed his mood too.”

Levi stiffens while a slight blush washes over his cheeks. He doesn’t look at you, but he can feel your eyes on him. 

“Get inside before you freeze, you old geezer,” Levi replies as he unsaddles Demon. “I’m going to exercise a few of the other horses before lunch.”

“I’ll help him out with that,” you add

“Of course you will,” Mathieu says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I’ll leave you both to it then.”

“You don’t mind if I join you?” you ask, eyes on him again. 

“Do what you like. They’re not my horses,” his voice as apathetic as he can muster, in hopes it won’t reveal that he loves it when you ride with him. 

He’s realized that in the last month, it’s practically impossible for him to push you completely out of his orbit. 

The two of you ride into the training arena, you on Astrid, and Levi on a young mare he’s been working on saddle training. He can feel a curious aura around you, a question right on the tip of your tongue.

At the end of the hour, it finally comes out.

“Levi, what’s the rest of the world like now? After The Rumbling?”

He forgot that you’ve only left Mursa once in the past three years. But why the sudden interest?

“To be honest, most of it’s in chaos right now. Practically the entire continent of Marley was decimated in The Rumbling, and the loss of such a world power has put every other nation at a stand-still. Even now, there are refugee camps everywhere as entire communities try to rebuild.”

Levi’s face darkens.  “And while nations are either rebuilding or fighting for control, Paradis is building its arsenal, just biding its time to see what kind of world is going to come out of all this.” 

“Some of your former comrades are going to Paradis soon as peace emissaries, right?”

“As if that’s going to make any difference, after all this.” He looks away. “Fucking idiots.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“To do what? Kiss Eldian asses and beg them to be nice?” Levi clicks his tongue. “I’m a soldier, not a politician.”

“You still see yourself as a soldier?”

Levi looks up at you. He didn’t even realize he’d said that.

“No, of course not.”

“Then how do you see yourself?”

That’s something he’s asked himself time and time again. Honestly, he doesn’t know who he is anymore. His entire meaning, his purpose, had been in service to and for others, but now they were all gone, including the world he’d fought so hard to save. It was like learning to be a new person.

He’d spent the years following The Rumbling in that pursuit: joining Onyakopon and the others in rebuilding the world, hoping to find that meaning he’d lost. But through it all, this lingering emptiness followed him. His life in Mursa was supposed to be a reset, a chance for him to rediscover himself without the shadow of war and death.

So why did he feel just as lost as ever?

It embarrasses him that he can’t answer you, and so he deflects. “Tch, what’s with all the damn questions today?” 

“Well, before  Annika returns to Mursa this spring, she wrote to me and said that she and some other doctors are working with an organization to help set up a clinic at the Pulsella Refugee Camp.”

”She would do something that idiotic. Does she realize how incredibly dangerous it is there? That part of Marley is still a steaming pile of shit. It’s overrun with bands of warring gangs.”

“You’ve been there?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been to plenty other camps that were the same. We did what we could, but not even the Marley military - what’s left of it - will touch that place.”

Your brows are knit in contemplation. “So that’s what’s happening beyond these mountains.”

“A lot of turmoil and strife. You’re lucky to live in a place like this.”

“I suppose I am.” You pull on Astrid’s reins, leading her out of the arena. “I should go get lunch ready.”

Something’s shifted in you, but Levi can’t quite put a finger on what that might be. It sends a pang of worry and uneasiness through his mind.

It seems that pushing his feelings down for you is going to be harder than he thought.

——- ✶ ——-

A few days pass before you return to the stables. Levi figured you had other things to do, but it didn’t stop him looking over the horizon every morning, expecting to see your figure walking in the slushy snow. It’s been unseasonably warm the past few weeks; he’d been told to expect snow well into mid-spring, but nothing about the world has been normal since The Rumbling, not even the weather. It’s beyond Levi’s level of understanding, but a scientist had explained to him that it had something to do with the months it took for the millions of steaming titan bodies to decompose, as well as the environments those same titans had destroyed. 

His muscles ache as he breaks up some ice that had accumulated at the entrance of Mathieu’s home, the sound of the shovel scraping against the ground only interrupted when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Warm today. Spring will be here before we know it,” you say.

”Not nearly soon enough. I’ve about had it with snow.” He stops and leans his body on the shovel, relieving some pressure on his leg. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah. I’ve been busy.”

You don’t elaborate, and Levi doesn’t ask what you mean. You’re standing next to him but he feels a great distance between you both, something he hasn’t felt since becoming friends with you. 

But this was the whole point of his moving away. This is what he wanted.

Right?

Your silence continues as you saddle Astrid, choosing to ride outside by yourself instead of with Levi. There’s no questions today. No asking him about his knee or how Mathieu is doing. 

Something is up. And as much as Levi wants to ask you what’s going on, he knows it’s not his place. He shouldn’t pry into your life.

Mathieu, however, has no boundaries, and when you finally all sit down to lunch, he asks, “Is there something wrong, Catherine? You’re quiet today.”

You shift in your chair and wipe your lips with your napkin. “No, nothing’s wrong. But I do have some news.”

At that, both men lean forward. “Annika has asked me to help her pack up her things before her move back to Mursa this spring.” You pause, sitting up straighter. “She also invited me to accompany her to her last assignment with her hospital: to set up and build a clinic at the Pulsella Refugee Camp in the Eastern Marley Territories. You stand up and take the plates from the table. “I’ll be gone for a month or two.”

“Why?” Levi’s voice is cold and direct.

”What do you mean, why? I want to help Annika.”

”With moving, ok yes, I get that. But going to Pulsella? I told you it’s a lawless wasteland there. What can you do?”

”I guess…I just want to try and make a difference, in whatever way I can. Annika said they could use volunteers to make food, distribute aid kits, and build more permanent shelters. I think I can help.”

”How? By getting yourself killed? Some help that’ll be..”

”Levi…” Mathieu says, putting a hand on his arm.

You turn your back to both of the men, walking to the kitchen with the plates. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t understand. I didn’t even want to tell you.”

Levi is quick to follow you. “I don’t think you understand. That place is beyond dangerous, Catherine. The people are desperate there.

”All the more reason why people who care should go help those who have nowhere else to go.” You start roughly washing the dishes. “I’m tired of just living here while others are suffering. It doesn’t feel right.”

There’s an intense silence as you roughly rinse the plates. Levi knows he should say something, tell you that he’s worried and he just doesn’t want anything to happen to you. But to say all that would be to admit that he still cares for you deeply. 

The whole problem would be solved if he just went with you, but he knows he can’t. He promised he’d stay and help Mathieu, and the old man had already put time and money into training him for this damn race. He can’t back down from his commitment.

And he knows the kind of hard work in store there; hard labor that his body can no longer accomplish. Even if he managed to go along and there was an altercation, he’s not sure he could fully protect you in a fight. Feelings of uselessness bubble up inside him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you suddenly put down a plate and face him, cutting off his train of thought.

”And frankly, Levi, I don’t understand you. First, you told me I was strong and to rely on my friends. Now I’m trying to use my strength and be useful, but you’re against it. The way you talk to me makes me feel like you see me as some helpless, frail woman, when I’m anything but. Or maybe I am, I don’t know.”

You bite your bottom lip. Levi’s noticed that you get emotional when you’re angry. You’re probably trying to hold back tears, in an effort to look strong in front of him.

”I don’t really know who I am. But I’ve done hard things before and I can do it again.”

”Yeah, but this time I won’t be there to save you.”

He didn’t want to have to spell it out for you to make you understand.

But his words don’t have the effect he was expecting. Levi sees your body tense as you furrow your brow. 

“I’m thankful for what you did for me on Mount Aspe, I really am. But don’t hold it over me like some kind of trump card anytime you want to boss me around. I didn’t ask you to save me then and I’m certainly not asking for your opinion now.”

“You’re not listening, Catherine.” He could feel his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, I hear you loud and clear, Levi. You think I need a man to look after me. Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m sure there’ll be lots of young, strong men there that will be more than happy to assist me with whatever I need.” Your voice drips with resentment. 

So that’s how you see him, as some weak, old piece of shit. You probably judge him for escaping the outside world and coming here. His fists clench and he feels defensive for the first time in ages.

“Oh yeah? I didn’t know you were that lonely and desperate for a man that you’d do something this stupid.” 

Shit.

He went too far. He knew it instantly when he saw the look of hurt on your face, tears forming in the corners of your eyes before you blink them away. Your jaw tenses, and something changes in the way you look at him.

”Fuck you, Levi.”

It’s not the first time those three words have been directed toward him, but hearing them come from your mouth, it makes him visibly wince.

You bolt out of the kitchen and head straight for the door.

“I leave in two days, so I need to get packing. Mathieu, Luka will come by with my stable rent payments and to ride Astrid.”

The door slams and then there’s silence. Levi can feel Mathieu scowling at him. 

“What?”

Mathieu rises from his seat and shakes his head. “You can be a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”

——- ✶ ——-

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you trudge through the snow. 

You had a feeling  Levi would react negatively when you told him your plans; it’s why you hesitated saying anything until the last minute. You knew he’d doubt your strength and question the reasoning behind your motives.

But calling you lonely and desperate…that went over the line. It was a deliberate jab.

And it infuriates you even more to admit that he’s right, to some extent. You are lonely. You do want to feel the touch of a man again, to feel wanted and desired.

But that’s not why you’re going to Pulsella. He knows that. He’s just miserable about life and wants everyone else to feel that way. You wonder now what you ever liked about him in the first place.

You’re glad he moved out. The less you see of him the better.

You slam the door and stomp through the living room, startling Max and Albert. 

“Whoa. Everything ok?” Max asks.

”It’s fine,” you reply sharply. “Max, can you take me to the train station in two days?”

”Sure…I just figured Levi would take you..” he answers, each word coming out in hesitance.

”Why would you think that? He doesn’t live here anymore.”

Max scratches his head nervously. “I don’t know..I guess I thought the two of you were…“ you send him a questioning look, “...good friends.”

“Humph,” you scoff, “that man doesn’t want to have any friends.”

Needing to clear your head, you head straight to the kitchen. “I’m gonna bake something.”

But as your hands knead through the dough, you feel the embers of your temper fading. Placing the two loaves of quick bread in the oven, your mind feels even clearer. What Levi had said was hurtful, but maybe you’d been hard on him too. You’d assumed he didn’t trust in you, when maybe he was just worried about you. 

He’d told you he cared for you once. Perhaps that was just his really bad way of showing that. 

You expect him to walk through the door that night, admit his feelings, and apologize for being an ass. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to do that.

But he doesn’t come that evening, or the evening after. Your last night at home, you stop looking for him.

Perhaps it’s time you stopped expecting things from Levi that will never be.

——- ✶ ——-

Max stops the wagon in front of the train station. “You be careful out there, Catherine. I promise I’ll keep the guys in line.”

“I’m more worried about who’s gonna keep you in line.” You give Max a quick hug. “I’ll see you in a couple of months. Don’t burn the house down.”

You buy your ticket and walk to the platform, but before you can make it to the train you stop.

Levi stands there, hands in pockets, leaning against a pillar. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, knowing you can’t just ignore him.

“I had to come into town anyway to run errands for the old man.” His foot kicks a clump of dirt away from your luggage. “I figured I might as well see you off.” He reaches down to grab the handle. “Let me get that.”

Your hand quickly pulls it away. “I can carry it just fine, thanks.”

Levi walks with you silently until you reach the entrance of your train car. You’re not sure which is worse: his awkward silence or his crude remarks. Not wanting to experience either anymore, you decide to end…whatever this is that’s happening.

“Well, I’ll see you in two months. Take care.”

“Wait.”

Levi pulls out a slender knife from his pocket and places it in your hand. “For protection.”

You look down at the wooden handle. “A knife? I don’t need this.”

“It’s a switchblade, and you do need it.” He moves closer to you and puts his hand on yours, guiding your finger to a metal knob on the wooden handle. “This is the safety. You slide this to lock and unlock the knife.”

He then guides you to another button. “Just press this button and the blade pops out.” It opens with a click. “Press down this tab to slide it back into the handle.”

You haven’t felt Levi’s touch since that New Year’s morning and it makes your heart race. His hand lingers on yours, encouraging your fingers to curl around the now warm handle. 

“Just take it. Please.”

Although his lips don’t say, “I’m sorry,” you know him well enough to know that this is his way of apologizing, and to show that he trusts you.

You pull your hand away from his and put it in your pocket, your way of saying that you accept his apology.

“If you’re being attacked, don’t hesitate for a moment to use it. Seconds count in those kinds of situations.”

“I’ll be careful.” You want to say more, but the conductor is yelling for all to board, and passengers begin to push by.

“Just come back safe.” Levi moves away from you slowly. “And bring back that knife. I’ve had it a long time.”

You smile, then board the train. As you find your seat and look out the window, you notice that Levi stays on the platform until the train slowly accelerates out of the station.

——- ✶ ——-

The three day train ride reminded you how big Marley was, and it was hard to believe most of it had been decimated. Trains would only take you so far, however, and Annika said she and her friend would pick you up at the final train station and drive you the rest of the way to Pulsella.

True to her word, Annika stands next to an automobile with a tall man. 

He shakes your hand and gives you a warm smile. 

“So nice to finally meet you, Catherine. I've heard so much about you.”

“I’m Onyankopon.”

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[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 11: Bloodthirst (Part 3)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta reader and funnyman, @appelsiinilight

In this chapter: Thistle forgot the most important rule of a hive.

***

They decided it was a good idea to put up the enchantment Marcy had on her necklace around the entire perimeter of the house.  They’d put up a fence after all, and what had once been an interesting novelty was turning out to be shockingly useful.  Thistle wouldn’t have known Auburn was coming if Marcy hadn’t happened to leave her necklace on the table that night.

They made a day out of it.  Moon was the one who had to do the most work, and although he clearly hated working hard he did love to be the center of attention.  They had him replicate the glowing enchantment on every individual bulb of several strings of Christmas lights, which would then be wound around the perimeter of the house.

They set up a workstation, with Moon seated cross-legged and Severa nearby to pull the lights so they would appear on his lap one by one.  He crossed his hands over every individual light to imbue it with the charm.  Marcy wound the lights up and provided new strings when they made enough progress, and also provided general moral support.

Moon playfully announced that he was using so much magic he needed to replenish it, which Thistle did by kissing Moon and allowing him to drain some.  Eventually the requests became less playful and more cranky as Moon clearly wore down.  By the time he took his tailored suit off because he was sweating and running out of energy, Severa decided to join in and let him kiss her as well.  He was so tired he didn’t even add any flare to it.  He couldn’t even pull her in for it, because she was so much larger than him; he had to settle for her leaning down over him.  

By the end, he lay panting on the ground, splayed out and thoroughly wrung-out.  “Thistle, tell me I did a good job.”

“You did great.  You’re the star of the show.”

“Damn right I am.”

Marcy started to wind the lights around the porch banister.  It was glowing soft white because of the presence of Moon, Thistle, and Severa on the porch with her, but the others nearby in the living room were surely powering it as well.  “It’s starting to get a little bit crowded in the house.  I never thought I would say this, but do you think we might need more room?”

Truly the magical denizens of the house didn’t take up that much space themselves, but they were starting to run out of room on the floor of the living room for more little wooden houses.  Maybe while they were doing infrastructure additions, they could see to that.

“Maybe.”  Thistle monitored Marcy’s placement of the lights.  “Auburn seems perfectly happy to just hang from the pull-up bar.”  Auburn seemed to be afraid to take up any space.  Marcy had actually bumped into him a few times, his furry body smacking her in the face as she rounded the corner to use the doorway, forgetting that he was there.  He’d always break down into a stream of panicked apologies, thoroughly convinced it was his own fault.  “Although… I’m starting to sense a pattern here.  We should… maybe be prepared for others to show up unannounced.”

“Yeah.”  Marcy sat back on her knees.  “It’s exciting, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also a little… worrying?  If word has gotten out… somehow… that everyone’s congregating here… who knows what’s going to turn up next?”

It was a daunting prospect, though definitely an exciting one, too.  “Yeah.”

***

They got the answer about who was going to turn up next soon enough.

They were trying to do a pixie pile again, but Auburn’s voice interrupted their sleep.

“Please leave.  Please.”  He was whispering it.

Thistle rolled over and noticed the lights visible on the front porch were glowing red.  Apparently they’d put them up just in time, a few hours before a threat would show up.

Great.

He stuck his head out and saw Auburn up on the pull-up bar, and now there was a second bat hanging next to him.  This one was significantly bigger.

Oh.  Oh, yeah, Auburn was definitely a runt.

“Who’s that?” said the second bat.

“That’s Thistle,” Auburn said miserably.

“Your little friend.”

“Don’t–don’t touch him.”

The second bat let go and swooped down, wings contracting down into arms as she landed.  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Auburn followed, looking very nervous.  “Seriously, don’t.  Please.”

“How did you get in?” Thistle asked, having a bad feeling.

“There’s a hole in the eaves of the roof,” Auburn said quietly.  “We can, um, fix it up tomorrow.”

“I dunno, I think you should leave it,” the new bat said.  “Auburn, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“This is, um.  This is my mother, Dusk.”

“I followed his scent trail here and how surprised I was to find my little boy with such a well-stocked household!  Imagine a runt like you with such a bounty, Auburn!”

Electric fear surged through Thistle.  He suddenly remembered all the instinctual, decades-old fear about leading predators back to the hive he’d been managing to suppress recently.

Auburn had led a predator back to the hive, even if it was his own family.

Maybe it wasn’t that.  Maybe Dusk was nice.  Maybe he just needed to give her a chance. 

Thistle shakily got to his feet.  “Um, hi.  I’m Thistle.”

“Hi, Thistle.”  Dusk grabbed Thistle by the front of his pajama shirt and hoisted him into the air. Thistle yelped with fear, feet dangling.

“Stop!” Auburn cried.

“You’re a runt, Auburn.  You exist to make use of our leftovers.  Not to sit in luxury like this.  If you manage to get prey, you're supposed to bring it back to the colony for everyone, not keep it for your own greedy ass.  I know I taught you better than that.”

Auburn shied away, tears pooling in his eyes.  But luckily he didn't need to do anything.

Moon appeared from the house, shirtless and in pajama pants but spitting mad.  He clamped a hand on Dusk’s wrist.

“Try it,” Moon said through gritted teeth.  “See what happens.”

Dusk scoffed at him.  “Is a fairy trying to threaten me?  I hunt your kind for-”

Moon’s hand started to glow red hot.  Dusk yelped and dropped Thistle, yanking her arm back. A few stray hairs went up in smoke.

Moon curled his hand into a claw and manifested a dancing flame in his palm.  “I’m sure you’ll find me harder to hurt than your usual prey.  Teddy and Colin have been oh-such-gracious hosts, so I’d really rather not burn their house down.  But I will if you force me to.  I'm feeling dangerous tonight.”

Dusk and Moon stared at each other with hatred.

“You clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Dusk snarled.  “Do you even know what vampires are capable of?  Bow to me, thrall.”

Moon flinched, but otherwise didn’t move.

Dusk exploded.  “What the fuck?  You’re supposed to be hypnotized!  You’re supposed to be mind controlled!  Why can’t you act like proper prey!”

“I know a thing or two about hypnosis,” Moon growled.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to try that on an easier target.”

“Please, Mama,” Auburn pleaded.  “Please just go home and don’t come back.”

“Like hell I am!  You expect me to just-”

“Jax, go get Marcy,” Thistle whispered as they argued.  No way he could shout loudly enough to wake her from here.

Pixie-Jax spread his wings and took off, but as he leapt over Dusk, she grabbed him by the ankle and slammed him back down.  “I’m not leaving here until I’ve had my fill!”

Dusk gripped Jax by the hair and sunk her teeth into his neck.  Everyone squawked in alarm.  Moon reached for her with his hot hand again, and she dropped Jax and hopped back.

“It would be best for all of us if you just went,” Moon said.

Dusk bared her fangs at him, but she did back up.  Moon held his flame out.  Dusk made a motion like she was going to go for Jax again, but Moon crab walked and moved the open flame between them.

“Fine!” Dusk shouted.  She snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground.  “Auburn, come on.”

Auburn hugged closer to Moon and shook his head.

“You selfish, greedy boy, come here.  We have some things to discuss.”

Auburn leaned into Moon’s shoulder, frozen in fear.  Moon maintained the flame in his hand, eyes narrowing at her.

“Leave,” Moon repeated.

Dusk grit her teeth.  “Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me.”

Her form exploded into a bat, and she flew away on leathery wings, tittering angrily, disappearing up into the upper floor and then into the attic.

Severa’s scaly head peeked out over the top of her wooden house.  “What’s going on out there?” she said sleepily.

Thistle stood from where he’d been cowering at Moon’s feet, shaking with fear and burying his face in Moon’s chest fluff.

“You’re all right,” Moon said, stroking his hair.

“Thank you for-for not letting her hurt me.”

“I would never.”  Moon planted a kiss on top of his head.  “I'm the only one who gets to enjoy how delicious you are."

Thistle held his hand down to help Jax back up. "Are you okay?"

Jax looked appropriately shaken, hand clamped over his neck. "Um...Yeah. Thanks."

"Auburn, darling," Moon said tightly. "You said there’s a hole in the eaves of the roof?  Perhaps when Marcy wakes up we can make sealing that shut our first priority.” 

***

Thistle cursed as his pencil lead snapped, rolling over the paper he’d been using to write.  He’d been making some updates to the guest book and figured he could add Dusk in too. Just to keep track.  But he’d been making a rough draft before writing in the actual guest book, and he was glad now.  Dusk didn’t deserve an entry in the guest book.

“We just need to find Violet and Petunia,” Marcy’s voice echoed above him.

“I’m sorry, Thistle.”  Auburn stood nearby, nervously wringing his hands.  “I’m sorry.  Please don’t kick me out.  I didn’t mean to bring her here.  I didn’t tell her anything.  She just found my scent.”

“It’s not your fault,” Thistle said stormily.  He picked up the nub of lead and continued to write unkind things about Dusk.  Why couldn’t she just be nice, like Auburn?  Why did she have to make him debate whether he had to kick people out for leading predators here?  He wasn’t a Mother; he wasn’t equipped for making those kinds of decisions.

“The borrowers,” Marcy said again.  “They’re the only ones missing.  We need to gather them up.”

Someone finally heard Marcy and took pity on her.  “I will go look for them,” Severa offered.

While she moved off, Marcy sighed and knelt next to Thistle.  “Okay, Jewel’s here, obviously, and you and Jax–both of hims–Moon, Marigold, Auburn.  Severa is going to get Violet and Petunia.  Trilloras is in the yard… I don’t think we can move her, but she should be okay, right?”

Auburn lowered himself down to the floor by her knee.  “I don’t think Dusk will go after the dryad.”

“Okay–you’re sure?”

“She…”  Auburn swallowed, trying to figure out a tactful way to say it.  “She doesn’t smell like prey.  It would be like drinking sap, not blood.”

Marigold tugged on Thistle’s sleeve.  “She won’t hurt Córva?”

“Auburn said she wouldn’t go after something that big, especially if she wouldn’t get any magic out of it.”

“Yeah,” Marcy said.  “I’m more worried about all of you in here.”  She was relieved when Severa slithered back out of the wall, Violet in her arms and Petunia sitting on her shoulders.  Marcy had been half-afraid Dusk had already gotten to them.  “Okay.  That’s everyone, then.”

The tiny creatures all crowded towards her.

“What’s the plan, Thistle?” Marigold said.  “There’s a threat.”

“Marigold is asking what the plan is,” Thistle said, when nobody answered him.

“Umm…”  Marcy had panicked and frantically run around collecting all the creatures to make sure none of them went missing–Auburn’s mother could conceivably be a threat to any of them, except maybe Severa.  She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to what they’d do after that.  “I guess… we’ll all just stay together in case she comes back?”

“What!” Violet said, tail sticking up.  “You want me to stay outside the walls?  How long?  An hour?  Two?”

“I mean…I don’t know?  It’s for safety.  We don’t know when she’s going to come back.”

“I’m sorry,” Auburn wept.  “I’m sorry.”

“All right, it’s okay, Auburn,” Marcy soothed.  “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s not okay,” Thistle snapped.  Though in English, so Auburn didn’t know what he was saying.  “He led a predator to us.  That’s not okay.”

Marcy gathered Thistle up in her hands.  “Sweetheart, I’m here to protect you all.  She can’t pose a threat to me, surely?”

Thistle crossed his arms and sat down, pouting.  “I guess.”

“I’m just trying to say we don’t have to always follow that rule.  There’s a gray area.”

Thistle picked at the hem of his shirt.  Marcy was right, of course.  Hell, Thistle had broken the “don’t lead predators back home” rule himself, when that damnable human from the internet had come to stalk him, and that had turned out okay.  But it still felt…. Bad.  Like a betrayal.  Like Auburn didn’t care enough.

This in spite of the fact that Auburn wouldn’t stop hysterically apologizing, clearly devastated and terrified at the danger he’d caused.  And that he was visibly afraid of his own mother, something which twisted Thistle’s heart and made his feelings even more complicated. 

Thistle opened his little wooden house up for everyone to stay in as an emergency shelter, although Violet and Petunia opted to go into Severa’s house instead.  Marcy scooted the houses close together and kept them on the dining room table, next to Jewel’s fishtank, standing guard.

Auburn hung from the pull-up bar, heavy bags under his eyes, unable to sleep.  “I’m sorry, Marcy.  I didn’t mean to upset Thistle.  Thank you for not kicking me out.”

Marcy gave him a sad smile.  “Of course.  Hey, do you want to be held?”  She held out her hand.  “It’s okay to say no, but some people like it.”

Auburn detached himself from where he was roosting and swooped down into Marcy’s hand, hugging himself to it.  He felt warm and fuzzy, and Marcy could feel his erratic little heartbeat. 

“Thistle knows you didn’t do it on purpose.  He just has a lot of anxiety about predators.”

Auburn turned his head down into Marcy’s palm, and she felt small tears wetting her skin.  She reached out with a finger and gently rubbed his fuzzy little head, between his ears.  He leaned into it.

“This is such a dreadful atmosphere.”  It was Moon, leaning against the doorframe of Thistle’s wooden house.  “You’d think we were all taking shelter from a bomb, rather than a single vampire we’ve already scared off.”

Marcy put Auburn down in her lap.  “We don’t know when she’s going to come back.  I just–I don’t want anything to happen to any of you.”

“Pssh.”  Moon strolled along the table, swinging his cane in a loop.  “But do we have to spend our time waiting huddled in fear?”

“I guess not,” Marcy admitted.  “What do you want to do?  Watch TV?”

Moon scoffed.  “TV.  Is that all you humans are good for?  Come now, your kind has survived without TV for millenia.  We have better things to do, surely.”

“You watch TV too,” Thistle’s voice said from inside his wooden house, and Thistle crawled forward, still under his blanket.  “You like that TV show we were watching about vampires.”

Moon used his cane to pull Thistle’s hair in front of his face, obscuring his vision, and Thistle frowned.  “Not when we have such a conglomeration of interesting creatures,” Moon announced.  “I’m sure we can think of something more… physical.”

“Moon!” Thistle chided. 

“I’m merely talking about dancing, Thistle.  When was the last time you were in a group of people who were all dancing, hm?”

Thistle rose to his knees, pushing his hair out of his face.  “Not since I was with my family, I guess.”

“Well, come on then!”  Moon began running his hands in a circular motion in the air, and Thistle watched in amazement as smoke wafted from his fingers and started to solidify in the air.  It writhed and curled into a rough oval, at which point Moon started drawing his fingers in a straight line up and down the top.  It wasn’t until the strings appeared under his pointer finger that Thistle realized that he was pulling a stringed instrument out of thin air.

Moon always had another surprise up his sleeve, didn’t he?

“Whaaaaaaat?” Marcy said.  “Moon, you can do that?”

“Only with a lyre, sweetheart,” Moon said.  “It’s my instrument of choice.”  He grabbed the lyre by its side and yanked it out of the cloud of smoke, which swirled around him.  Its physical form kept a shimmering, quasi-ethereal visage about it, and the strings twanged with a strange, otherworldly echo under his fingers.  “What sort of siren would I be if I couldn’t lure people in?”

The others had started to poke their heads out the window to watch him.

“Come on!  Come on!”  Moon grabbed Thistle by the hand and spun him around, bouncing and encouraging him to follow along as he strummed the strings.

Petunia dashed out of Severa’s house, cartwheeling around and screaming in glee.  Moon put on a grimacing smile at the noise.  “Now, Petunia, have you ever tried singing?”

“No!” she yelled.  “Show me, show me!”

Violet crept out to follow Petunia as Moon started signing up and down a solfège with impressive vocal range.  That was all the cue Jax needed to sprint out with both their bodies and start dancing.  The pixie body grabbed Thistle, while the borrower body grabbed Violet, who looked unhappy about that.  “Whazzat?”

“Jax has got the spirit!” Moon sung out.  “Come on, everyone!”

What Jax’s dancing lacked in skill it made up for in enthusiasm.  Pixie-Jax moved with a sort of side-to-side motion while holding both of Thistle’s hands, while Borrower-Jax mostly tugged on Violet to try and get her to move with any semblance of happiness. 

Auburn peered at Moon with watery eyes, and Moon waved him over.  Auburn’s face split into an expression of delight and he hopped over.

Moon let go of the lyre, and it simply hovered in the air, continuing to play itself, maintaining the same beat that Moon was still singing to.  Moon took both of Auburn’s hands and started some sort of boogie that involved a lot of steps, which Auburn admirably tried to copy. 

Severa slithered out, bodying Borrower-Jax out of the way to take Violet’s hand instead.  Violet suddenly found some enthusiasm for dancing, then, twirling around Severa, who was mostly limited to serpentine waves for motions.

Marcy giggled with delight and put her hand down on the table, two fingers down like legs walking around.  Thistle and Jax came over and circled around it, treating it like a third dancer.

Borrower-Jax had stacked on top of Pixie-Jax’s shoulders, and Moon passed Auburn off to Severa to treat their stack as a single dancer, swaying around them.

Thistle noticed Marigold sitting quietly off to the side and suddenly felt very bad.  He dashed over and crouched down.  “Marigold, do you want to dance?”

Marigold looked down at his feet.  “I’m not sure.”

“Did the vet say it was OK to start doing that kind of stuff?”

He nodded unsurely.  “She said I can do light physical activity if I’m careful, but she said my muscles are probably… atrophied.  From not being able to use them.”

“Do you want to try?  If it’s too hard, you can stop.  I’ll hold your hand.”

Marigold looked to everyone else up and about, then nodded.

Thistle took his hands and helped him stand up, and Marigold hobbled over to the center of the dance floor.  Moon twirled Jax to get them out of the way, then fluttered around like Marigold were a noteworthy celebrity.  “There he is, everyone!  Make way, make way!”  He repeated the announcement in Pixish, at which point Marigold giggled.

Ah, there it was.  Thistle had missed his brother’s smile.

Marigold was slow and unsure on his feet.  Thistle had to catch him several times to make sure he didn’t fall, and he occasionally grimaced as he hit some point of pain.  Thistle went slow, never letting go of him, overjoyed to be here in this moment, resolving to never take anything for granted ever again.

“Let’s pick up the pace now!”  Moon swung back over to the lyre and danced his fingers across the strings, getting the music up to a faster tempo, then started clapping.  A few of them got the idea and started clapping along.

“Jewel!” Thistle shouted with glee.  “Jewel, come on!”

Jewel had been watching them all with his elbows propped up on the rim of the fish tank.  “I’m good,” he said.

“Jewel!” Thistle pleaded desperately.  “Jewel!  Jewel!”

Jewel rolled his eyes and sank down into the tank.  At first Thistle was disappointed, before he realized it was to give himself some room to gain speed and pump his tail.  He breached the surface of the water and soared in an impressive arc across the entire length of the fishtank, doing a few twirls along the way.

The creatures on the table all cheered, almost drowned out by Marcy’s clapping.

“Now we’re doing it!” Moon shouted over the mounting noise.  “Let’s go!  Let’s go!” 

He tripped on his bad foot and fell forward, landing flat on his face.

Thistle gasped and rushed over.  “Are you okay?”

Moon laughed and used his cane to push himself up to his knees.  “Don’t stop!  Don’t stop, everyone!  Keep going!”

Thistle held his hand out to help Moon up.  Moon instead used it to pull him down, and Thistle face-planted into his chest fluff.  It was nothing they hadn’t done before, but Thistle still blushed all the same.

Moon hopped up, tossing Thistle into the air.  Thistle buzzed his wings, giggling, and Moon swung him around when he came back down and tossed him at Auburn.  Auburn’s eyebrows shot up and he rushed over to catch Thistle, who continued giggling over the music and singing and clapping and laughing and the swelling of love and magic in the air.

Catching on to the game, Auburn tossed Thistle over to Severa, who simply manhandled him to spin him back around and lobbed him at Moon.

Moon caught him and spun, Thistle’s streak of black hair streaming behind him.  Moon was laughing, too, bigger and happier than Thistle had ever heard before.  Thistle put his hands on his shoulders, manic with the energy of the gathering.

They hadn’t kissed much since Thistle found out what Moon was.  They’d been doing mostly just platonic cuddling and sleeping in the same bed sometimes.  That suited Thistle just fine, and Moon seemed content to accept whatever attention Thistle would give him, resolved to start living differently without complaint.

But here now, in his arms, with how much ambient excitement there was, the music, it felt different.  Different than the circumstances of their other kisses, certainly.

Their flushed faces were millimeters apart, staring at each other wide-eyed.

Thistle leaned in and kissed him.

Moon dipped him down, leaning into it.  Everyone cheered and went wild, including Marcy, clapping and cheering.

Flustered, flushed, and overwhelmed, Thistle blushed fiercely and opened his eyes again.  Moon set him upright, and they stared wide-eyed at each other for a moment.

“Was that okay?” Moon said, suddenly sounding unsure.

“Yeah,” Thistle rushed to clarify.  “Yeah.  That was.  Wow.”

Moon’s face morphed into a wolfish grin.  “Well, now you’ve had your first real kiss.”

Thistle went red and hid his face.

Jax, ever eager to copy whatever was going on, came over to try and kiss Moon as well.  “Ah,” Moon said awkwardly.  “Maybe later, okay?”

Thistle bashfully hid his face in Moon’s chest.  Moon chuckled and petted his hair.  “Well, how was it?”

“Good,” Thistle squeaked.

“Good.  How about we coerce Marcy into bringing some snacks over, hm?  Wouldn’t be a real party without them.”

The string of lights on the porch, which had been glowing lime green this whole time, suddenly changed to bright, dangerous red.

The mood shifted immediately.  Marcy scooped Jax up and tossed both his bodies into Thistle’s house.  “Everyone inside!  Inside!  I’ll handle this!”

Severa snatched Violet and Petunia up in the blink of an eye and disappeared into her house.  Thistle rushed over to help Marigold get back in, and Moon spread his wings over them to shield them as they moved in.  Jewel flipped the lid of the tank shut and huddled down in his anemone.

Auburn stayed on the table, ears flat against his head.  “Marcy, I want to help.”

Well, Marcy could probably use the help of a friendly Pixish-speaker.  Her language skills were still a bit rough–although they were definitely getting better now that her full-time job was to stay home and interact with Thistle. “Okay,” she said, nodding.

Auburn flapped up onto the leg of the couch.  “I froze up earlier.  I freeze when she yells at me.”

“If you need support, you can jump into my hand again.”

Auburn jumped into the hand immediately after she said that, hugging her thumb.

The bat showed up a few minutes later–evidently she had been scouting in the kitchen, because she came from that direction.  She squeaked and crawled across the ceiling.

“We don’t have to fight,” Marcy said.  “We can just talk.”

Dusk shifted and dropped down, alighting on a lamp.  “Auburn,” she hissed.  “Auburn.  I know I taught you better than to let yourself be seen by giants.”

“You’re also being seen by giants,” Auburn offered.

She twitched her ears.  “Only because you’ve already–Auburn, we have to move the whole colony now!  You know that!”

“Then move it and leave us alone!”  Auburn clung to Marcy, as if scared by his own outburst. 

“You are such a brat.”  Dusk swooped down and stood on the desk, gradually getting closer.  “You are always such a disappointment.  You even abandoned your family.”

“You stopped feeding me!” Auburn protested tearfully.  “I had to!”

“Just because prey became scarce, and we were all suffering, and you-”

“Mama, I was so hungry!  All the time!”

“You are supposed to accept what you are given and be happy with that!  Not–whatever this is!”

A final swoop brought Dusk on top of one of the wooden houses on the coffee table.  Marcy’s eyebrows raised, unsure of if she should intervene just yet.  As a rule, she wanted the magical creatures to work things out amongst themselves unless they truly needed her help, especially after what happened with Moon–and maybe Auburn deserved the chance to resolve this with her support, rather than her butting in on his behalf.

The point turned out to be moot, though.  Because Dusk had happened to land on Severa’s house.  Her yellow eyes and scaly head peeked out over the top of the wooden house, behind Dusk’s ankles.

“If you won’t bring them home then I’ll just take them,” Dusk snarled.

“I can’t even begin to describe how much that is not happening.”

Dusk whirled around to look at Severa with wide eyes as the naga hauled herself up onto the roof.

“Gods below, what on earth is that thing?” Dusk said.

“That’s a naga,” Auburn said.  “She’s nice.”

“I’m considerably less nice to predators threatening my friends.”

Dusk’s face gradually took on more and more alarm as more and more of Severa’s length emerged from where she’d been hiding.  “Well–Well, whatever.  I don’t need you to be nice to me.”

“Mama, please,” Auburn said tearfully.  “I love you.  But I can’t save you if you keep acting like this.”

“Your audacity, son,” Dusk said.  “Can’t you ever shut up?  It’s always something with you.”

Severa’s mouth split in a frightening hiss.  “You are the audacious one.  You treat children as disposable things for you to budget and invest in.”

She lunged, and Dusk took to the air to get away from her claw.  “You fool!” Severa shouted.  “You ingrate!  You squander what you have!”

“What’s your problem?” Dusk said.

Severa crouched down and rubbed her hand on the ground rapidly–the motions she’d adapted her anti-gravity magic to use one-handed.  “You miserable bitch.”

Her hair floated as gravity released her, and she coiled and sprung up, lunging at Dusk.  The vampire dodged out of the way easily and then laughed.

“If you want to fight, then let’s,” Dusk said.  “By all means.”

Severa landed back on the ground, glaring at Dusk.

“You’re mine, thrall.”  It was the same magic-laden voice she’d tried on Moon earlier.  Except Severa, unlike Moon, had no experience with hypnosis magic.  She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and faraway.

Dusk looked smug.  “You see?  Even with-”

Just as Marcy was starting to once again get ready to intervene, Auburn shifted and threw himself at Dusk, crying and screaming.  The two tangled in the air, chittering and scratching each other with their claws.

Severa shook off the spell she’d been placed under, and oh boy was she steaming mad now.  She repeated her own spell and launched into the air again.  Dusk, this time weighed down by her son valiantly attacking her, couldn’t get out of the way in time and Severa’s heavy body hit her like a train.

All three of them hit the ground.  Severa took a second to yank Auburn out of her coils and toss him away before slamming her coils shut around Dusk’s body, squeezing all the air out of her before she could issue another command to enthrall anyone.

“You will not disturb the peace of this place,” Severa said, sides heaving with enraged hisses.  “What you are going to do is go back to your colony and tell them to steer well clear of this place.”  Her coils writhed, and Dusk let out a squeak as her bones creaked, threatening to break.  “Because if I see you again, or any of your kin, at this place, I will crush your lungs and break your jaw before you can dare to presume to control me with your magic again.  Understand?”

Dusk nodded vigorously, eyes bulging.

“You do not have a son anymore.  You will forget about him, and you will go back to your colony and tell them to move and to not hunt here anymore.”

Dusk nodded again, straining to breathe.

“Go.  You have thirty seconds to clear our nest.”

She loosened her grip, and Dusk coughed and staggered away, shifting back into a bat and taking off, disappearing into the ceiling with one last curse muttered under her breath.

Auburn lay collapsed on the floor, dazed and bleeding but not seriously hurt.  Marcy crouched down and cupped her hands around him.  “Hey, you did great.”

Auburn hugged her hand.  The rest of the critters started poking their heads out of the shelters.

Still breathing heavily, Severa slithered over to Auburn.  “Marcy is right.  No one should ever have to talk to their mother that way.”

Auburn’s ears drooped.  “Thank you for–Well, thank you.”  A pause.  “When you said… she doesn’t have a son anymore…?”

Severa looked him up and down, then shrugged and gestured to the house.  “Free son.”

Auburn went red, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Thistle walked over, petting Auburn’s shoulder.  “She’s right.  I’m sorry your family treats you that way.  I can’t even imagine if my mother treated me like that.”  His heart hurt thinking about his own Mother–about how he’d left, if he’d actually needed to leave to keep them safe, if Mother would have accepted him back… No, best not to go down that rabbit hole again.

Auburn was happy.  He had a family that cared about him, and so did Thistle.  “We’re your family now, and we protect each other.”

***

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[canofspooks]

Phantom Goes Cross-Country (Chapter 2)

Summary: Danny and friends make a quick stop at a gas station. Surely nothing can go wrong there!

Words: 993

AO3 Link

"My turn to drive. Pull over." Danny could see Tucker's eyes getting heavier and heavier as the night drew on, and he wasn't too keen on getting into a car accident. Especially not in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night, on a road they hadn't seen another car on in half an hour.

His whole time living in Amity Park, he never realized how isolated it was from the rest of the world. Maybe the ghosts had something to do with it. Maybe it was coincidence.

Tucker squinted at the fuel gauge for a moment. "Fine, we'll switch. What'd the sign back there say?"

"Next gas station's in 2 miles. So… quarter of a mile left?" A completely bullshit answer. It was less than 2, greater than 0. Tucker couldn't prove Danny wrong in his half-asleep state, and that's what mattered.

"Thank god. This baby needs fuel, and so do I. If I don't get a Red Bull, I'm gonna pass the fuck out."

Danny scoffed. "You need sleep, not caffeine."

He glanced down at the car's clock. Nearly 11 PM. If not for the fact that he'd been on a near-constant adrenaline rush for the last few days, he'd probably have fallen asleep by now. But here he was, in the car with his two best friends, going on a roadtrip and leaving Amity behind for the first time in ages. It wasn't permanent, as much as he desperately wanted to never step foot in the Nasty Burger again, but a break from flipping burgers and dealing with Dash was all he really wanted.

In the distance, the florescent lights of the gas station began to light up the side of the road. Danny basked in the unnatural glow as Tucker pulled up next to one of the pumps.

Tucker got out of the car and stretched with a long, exaggerated yawn. "Do you want anything?" He tossed the keys to Danny.

"Soda. Any kind. Which one of these is for the gas cap?" He held the keyring up to the light, as if that would help him distinguish the right key among what seemed to be every key Tucker had ever owned.

"The small one," Tucker said, as if it was obvious, and went through the glass doors of the convenience store. Danny got the right one eventually, after trying about twelve different "small" keys. He leaned against the car and waited for the tank to fill up. His eyes wandered over the advertisements for cigarettes, slushies, and bags of ice until the word "marlboro" stopped making sense.

Then he saw something move. Out of the corner of his eye, in the shadows of the building where the overhead lights weren't strong enough to reach. Something had moved. He'd been dealing with ghosts long enough to know that if he turned to look, all he'd see was concrete. Sure enough, this was the case.

No. He wasn't in Amity anymore. Not everything had to be a ghost lurking around the corner. He was probably just tired from staring at the open road.

His attention snapped over to Tucker leaving the convenience store with a bag in one hand and a can of Red Bull in the other. He paid for the gas and crossed his arms.

"You're not drinking that."

"Why not? You're gonna fall asleep too if you don't have someone to talk to."

"The radio can keep me company. Come on, you need sleep."

Tucker cracked the can open and lifted it up to his lips, challenging him to make a move. "I got a degree in computer science, Danny. If anyone here knows how to go without sleep for 48 hours, it's me."

Danny snatched the can out of Tucker's hands and bolted away, until there was a sizable distance between the two. Enough that he could keep his prize if his friend decided to chase after him. If Tucker wanted to crash and burn, he'd have to work for it.

"Yeah, well now you're an old geezer who works a 9-to-5. If I let you do this, you'll be cranky all day tomorrow."

"We're like a month apart!" Tucker threw his hands up. Their stand-off continued, but when neither of them made a move, Tucker opened the passenger-side door with a groan. "Fine. But don't waste it by pouring it onto the grass, c'mon."

With his victory secured, Danny walked back over and hopped into the driver seat. He set the can in the cup holder and pointed at Tucker. "You. Sleep. No energy drinks until you've had like at least an hour."

Tucker leaned the seat back and pulled his beanie down over his eyes. "I see mother-henning runs in the family," he mumbled under his breath.

He almost didn't hear it over the noise of the engine starting. Honestly, he wished he hadn't.

"Say shit like that again and I'm going to crash your car." He pulled out of the gas station and tried to remember how driving worked. He probably should've mentioned that he didn't own a car, and hadn't driven in what felt like forever. Oh well.

"Daniel Masters. Holy fuck, that would've been funny."

"You're delirious. Go to sleep."

"I'm hilarious is what I am." Tucker devolved into a fit of laughter in the seat beside him, and it took everything in Danny's power to just keep driving. Eventually, after he'd caught his breath, Tucker added, "Oh yeah. I was talking to the guy at the gas station and y'know what he said?"

"What, did he ask if you're a professional comedian?"

"He said not to pick up any hitchhikers, 'cause there's apparently ghosts around the area."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Now, I didn't really have a destination in mind when Sam and I planned the trip, so if you wanted…"

"A good old-fashioned ghost hunt? For old time's sake?" he guessed.

"Exactly what I'm thinking."

[half-bakedboy]

Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz | Rated T | Chapters 1/11 | Posting Every Other Day 

When Maddie showed up at the one-eighteen covered in bruises and needing a place to stay, Buck didn't hesitate to let her into his home and the new life he had created in L.A. While he was happy to have his sister back, he was tired of insisting to her that he wasn't as lonely as she accused him of being. So when she assumes he's in some secret relationship with his coworker and best friend, Eddie, Buck decides it couldn't hurt to tell a little white lie, especially when it meant his sister could focus on something that wasn't her own past.

Now Buck is stuck trying to navigate through a ruse of his own creation while dealing with newfound feelings for his best friend that seemed to sneak up on him.

Oh, and did he mention the mysterious accelerant that kept finding itself in his path, putting everyone he loves in danger?

read chapter one on ao3

“I’m just worried about you, Evan,” Maddie sighed into the phone. Buck’s heart did that stupid little stutter directly correlated with disappointing his sister and he held the phone away from his face as if that would lessen the guilt he felt. 

“Mads, I’m—”

“You’re not fine.” 

Buck sighed. “I wasn’t going to say fine. I was going to say—” Buck thought for a second, but his sister was right—as she usually was—and who was he to argue with her? “Alright, I was going to say fine, but it’s because it’s true!” Buck urged, hoping that the more times he said it, the more likely she’d be to believe it. (Maybe he could convince himself of the fact along the way.)

“It’s been almost two months since Abby—”

“Really, big sis? You just gotta bring that up?” He complained, groaning more than audibly as he stared up at the firehouse ceiling. He had found in the last few weeks of overtime shifts that counting the tiles and slabs that made up the structure was a great way to pass the time. 

“Yes, little bro, I have to bring it up because I’m—”

“—Worried about you.” Buck finished the sentence with her and prepared for annoyance or, at the very least, another deep sigh, but instead, she stayed quiet as if giving him the chance to speak up. 

Another sigh resonated before Maddie said, “You’re all alone in this big city with no family. You have to understand my worry.” 

“I do, I really do, but I’m finally finding myself here. The 118 has really taken me in as their own; they’re friends who almost qualify as family at this point!” Buck argued, running a hand through his hair. Maddie couldn’t possibly understand what his fellow firefighters had meant to him. 

“Have you at least started dating yet?” Maddie asked. Buck resisted the urge to hang up on her and took a deep breath as he considered her question. He could tell the truth, which was that he hadn’t so much as touched a woman since Abby tore his heart out of his chest and stomped it into the ground. 

Or…

“I’m dabbling,” he decided to say instead. 

It wasn’t completely a lie. He had decided a few days ago with a lot of pressure from Hen and Karen that he needed to at least attempt to get back out there and downloaded one of the most popular dating apps he could find. He set up his profile—albeit very scarcely—and had been waiting for those likes to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was almost complete radio silence and for his ego to take a direct hit when Chim got a date within the first hour of downloading it. 

“Anyone I should know about?” For some reason, Buck wasn’t expecting the question. He thought that Maddie would shy away from asking or just be happy that Buck had divulged even just that little bit of information, but no. She just had to put her brother on the spot and have him panicking about what to say. 

“Soon?” He sputtered, immediately regretting his words the moment Maddie’s small squeal echoed through the speaker. 

“Evan Buckley, I knew you were keeping something from me the second you said you were fine! You knew that I wouldn’t just take that laying down, right? You must’ve!” The happiness in her voice broke Buck’s heart a little further and he couldn’t back down; not when her joy was so obvious in her rambling and the way she giggled into the phone. 

“I— It’s really new, Mads,” Buck muttered as he tilted his head to the side and let his phone rest against his cheek. 

“New is good and you deserve good, Buck,” Maddie said, the words like a gentle caress to his cheek that he would have leaned into if she was there. As if an idea had just occurred to her, Maddie gasped and said excitedly, “I’m gonna come visit. I’ve gotta meet this family of yours and you can’t avoid introducing me to whoever is making your life a little less lonely if I show up at your door.” Buck was annoyed that she had a point, but the prospect of having his sister around after a few years of space had his heart warming in his chest. 

“You’re welcome here any time, Mads. I’ve really missed—”

“I’ve gotta go,” Maddie said, her voice quieter and a bit more panicked than Buck would ever have wanted to hear. “Doug needs me to— Well, he just needs me. Will you please stop being such a stranger and let me in on your life from now on, little brother?” Buck rolled his eyes at the term of endearment but agreed easily anyway. 

“You know everything there is to know, sis.” 

He wished he could be surprised when he got the text a few hours later that a trip to L.A. just wasn’t in the cards for her.

----------------------------

The one-eighteen was quiet—though Buck wouldn’t dare say the word—for the majority of his shift a few days after his call with Maddie, which he was grateful for because Bobby was tabling his famous pasta bar as Buck skipped up the firehouse steps. The rest of the team was already seated in their usual spots and Buck took his next to the newest recruit, Eddie, elbowing his side as he leaned to scoop up the first piece of lasagna. 

“Ay, the rest of us eat first, unless you’re planning on serving me, Diaz,” Buck teased with an over-exaggerated wink.

“You know I just live to serve you, Buckley,” Eddie shot back easily and Buck couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of him. It had been their thing since the new guy started. Buck would flirt with him until the rest of the team groaned or stopped it and apparently, Hen was at her wits end already if the piece of bread that slammed into Buck’s head was any indication. 

“ Jeez , Hen, we’re just having some fun,” Buck pouted, taking a large bite out of the piece of food that landed on his plate. 

“Do you always have to flirt with the newbie? It’s honestly sickening,” Hen complained with a roll of her eyes but Buck knew there was no heat in her words. He realized that look was all too similar to the one his sister would have given him. Buck laughed and tossed a grape tomato in her direction in retaliation. 

“There’s no stopping us now,” Buck assured her with a wink.  

And there really wasn’t. Buck and Eddie had been like that since the very beginning, and they only grew more comfortable and in sync in the few months they had spent working together. Eddie had joined the team as an openly gay single dad with no hesitation and Buck had respected that immediately. He was not one to hide his interest in any and all genders, but he wasn’t exactly waving a flag when he started at the one-eighteen. 

There was about a minute of silence when Eddie introduced himself before Buck decided that the best way to smooth him onto the team dynamic was to hit on him. Buck made a ridiculous come-on about a firehose that was brushed aside by the rest of the team, but Eddie laughed and gave it right back. The two had been fast friends ever since, much to the dismay of the rest of their team. 

“What’s everyone’s plans for the next three days off?” Buck asked as he stacked both his and Eddie’s plates full of food, tossing an untouched piece of bread behind his back that Eddie caught seamlessly just before it landed in his salad dressing. 

“Christopher and I have a Marvel marathon planned that I couldn’t even try to get out of,” Eddie offered, slurping up a spaghetti noodle as Buck sat back down. “Which reminds me that he wanted me to ask you if you could come?” Eddie asked, peering at Buck out of the corner of his eye. Buck wasn’t sure where the sudden shyness had come from, but before he could ask or answer, Bobby was chiming in. 

“May and Harry are with Michael so I will be finally showing Athena that my cooking skills are not just for show,” Bobby said with a large smile on his face. Buck liked seeing him like that, unapologetically happy for the new life he was starting. 

“I’m planning on sleeping until my alarm goes off in three days,” Chim laughed from where he leaned back in his chair. “What about you, Buckaroo?” 

“Well, I was going to try and find a date because my sister won’t stop bugging me about being single, but…” He trailed off, cupping Eddie’s shoulder tightly in his hand, “I just got an offer I’d be a fool to refuse.” 

Eddie smiled and shrugged off Buck’s touch with a fond roll of his eyes before they focused on his plate. Buck glanced around at his team with an uncontrollable smile on his face as they bantered and laughed and listened intently to whatever story Hen was telling about her son, Denny. He thought back to his conversation with Maddie and how worried she had sounded for him, as if he was alone without Abby. 

He wasn’t. His team—their laughter and camaraderie, their friendship and love, their shared stories and experience—was everything he needed.

----------------------------

Buck was stuck with the dishes once the table was cleared, but he didn’t mind. He liked to get lost in the mundane task of scrubbing and cleaning, the clanging of the dishes a friendly reminder that he had spent much-needed bonding time with his team. Plus, doing the dishes meant he got to decide where they would go out after their shift and he had the best places in mind. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” Buck heard Chim’s voice softer than he expected from the second-floor terrace. 

“I’m— That’s just the question of the day, isn’t it?” Buck’s heart dropped as he recognized the all too familiar voice and before he could think twice, his legs were bringing him down the stairs in a sprint. “I’m looking for—”

“Maddie?” Buck asked. When she turned, he caught sight of the bruises littering her face and peaking out from underneath the collar of her shirt. The long sleeves did nothing to hide the darkness around her wrists and she didn’t even try to cover up the gashes on her cheek and lip.

“Hey, Evan,” she said weakly, a forced smile tugging at her lips. Buck had her in his arms before her legs could fully give out and he held her tightly to his chest, careful of the soreness he knew was probably hidden underneath her clothes. 

“Hey, hey, I got you. I got you, you’re okay,” Buck whispered into her hair as she sobbed, nails clawing at his back that probably would have hurt if he wasn’t so focused on providing his sister comfort. He caught Chim’s eyes over her shoulder, EMT bag in hand, and shook his head, searching the room for Hen. Chim seemed to understand exactly what he was doing and ran to the back where Buck was pretty sure Hen was resting. 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Maddie choked out as she tried to pull away. Buck wouldn’t let her, though, as he threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple softly. 

“Here is perfect, okay? Don’t worry about it,” Buck reassured. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to her. He had known her relationship with Doug wasn’t the best and there was no doubt in his mind that that monster had hurt her. The way her body trembled and her voice shook had Buck feeling uneasy himself as he led her to one of the more comfortable couches in the station. 

“Hey, sweetie, I’m Hen. You’re Buck’s sister? Maddie?” Hen said as she approached, carefully as if walking up to an easily spooked animal. Buck appreciated it as much as it hurt him to see. 

“That’s me, the overbearing big sister,” Maddie attempted to joke, but it fell flat to everyone that had gathered around except for Buck. 

“I don’t think I ever used the word ‘overbearing’ specifically. Maybe persistent, annoying was probably dropped in there a time or two,” Buck teased. He was too grateful when Maddie’s hand came up to swat his shoulder to focus on the wince on her face at the movement. 

“She can’t be worse than you, Buckaroo,” Chim chimed in from where he stood a few feet away, flanked by Bobby and Eddie, who Buck noted was paying closer attention to where he kneeled beside his sister than he was at Maddie like everyone else. 

“I promise I’m not,” Maddie said weakly. Buck held onto her hand delicately as Hen settled beside her, the EMT bag on her lap. 

“Any family of Buck’s is family of ours,” Bobby stated, nodding at Hen as if giving her the okay to fully check up on her. 

“He’s told me a lot about you guys, his family away from family. I—” Maddie’s breath hitched as Hen pressed her thumbs over the bruises along her collarbones and she pressed her lips together to compose herself before she continued. “I’m sorry for barging in this way, looking like—”

“—Like a Buckley?” Eddie offered, easing the bit of tension of what wasn’t being said in the room. Buck sent him a thankful nod as he squeezed his sister’s hand. “We’ve heard y’all are prone to accidents. The number of times I’ve had to patch up this one on company time is too many and counting.” Buck laughed and tossed a friendly finger in Eddie’s direction, smiling when Maddie seemed to relax at the banter. 

“This one is always tossing himself into the fire quite literally, huh?” Maddie asked. Buck could tell she was relieved to have the conversation moved away from her and he didn’t mind being the target for her benefit. 

“I’ve only been here for a few months, but I’m pretty sure Buck would put anyone before himself.” Eddie’s voice was a lot closer than Buck had expected and he didn’t realize how much tension was building up inside of him until Eddie’s hand landed in between his shoulder blades. He glanced up to catch his friend’s eye, smiling softly at the steady and comforting press on his back. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly who he is,” Maddie muttered. When Buck glanced up at her, her eyes were narrowed and darted back and forth between him and Eddie accusatorily. That was not good . Buck cleared his throat.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Buck asked.

Eddie ran his hand up to Buck’s shoulder, squeezing gently and Buck couldn’t resist reaching up to let his palm brush over the back of Eddie’s hand, letting him know how much the gesture was appreciated. Bobby and Chim hesitantly nodded in response before they all disappeared, leaving an even more tense Maddie and nerve-filled Buck alone with Hen who was treating the cut on Maddie’s cheek. 

As if scared for Buck to ask, Maddie offered, “It had been a few months, Buck. I thought— I really thought he had changed.” Buck sighed and rested his forehead on Maddie’s knee, relaxing only marginally when Maddie’s hand patted the back of his head. 

“What was it this time? Did you argue with him a little too hard? Maybe you didn’t reach the level of perfection he always required of you?” 

“Buck—” Hen warned, shooting a look that could kill in Buck’s direction. 

“No, it’s— It’s okay. He’s right either way,” Maddie relented with a deep sigh. “It had been building since I said I wanted to visit you in L.A. I told him that you had alluded to seeing someone and that I wanted to see if it was true. He said I couldn’t go, that he was the only family I needed, and when I argued against that…” Maddie trailed off, gesturing to her face and that was enough for Buck to put together what happened next. 

“He did this because of me?” Buck’s voice shook as he glanced back at his sister, reaching a hand up to stroke a finger over the dark bruise on her jaw. Maddie grabbed it and turned toward her brother, leveling their eyes together with a protectiveness in them that provided him the calm he needed. 

“This was not your fault, Evan,” Maddie said sternly. 

“It’s neither of your faults,” Hen added, resting her palm on Maddie’s arm softly. Maddie nodded and smiled at Hen as brightly as she could given the circumstances. 

“She’s right and I came here because I can’t have this happen anymore,” Maddie stated, holding onto Buck’s hand a little tighter. “You mentioned your captain’s girlfriend was a cop?” 

Buck nodded and wrapped his arms around his sister, wishing he had never let go in the first place.

----------------------------

Athena had arrived at the station quicker than Buck had expected her to. Upon seeing him, she pulled him into a tight hug that he didn’t realize he had needed so much before disappearing into Bobby’s empty office with Maddie. He didn’t trust just anyone with his sister, but the second the door shut, he felt like he could finally take a breath. 

He was flanked by both Hen and Eddie in a flash while Chim paced in front of them, chewing on a piece of beef jerky to stay occupied. Bobby watched from above, silently observing his team, and looking ready to step in if Buck needed it. They were all there for him and when the door finally opened after what felt like hours later, the smile that tugged at the corner of Maddie’s lips told Buck she had seen just that. 

“Again, I’m really sorry for—” Athena shook her head and pointed a finger at Maddie, effectively stopping her unneeded apology. 

“You’ll only have to be sorry if you don’t let this one take care of you the way you deserve,” she said, raising her eyebrows like a challenge. Maddie pressed her lips together and nodded bashfully as she leaned into the arm Buck had thrown around her neck. 

“Buck, shift’s just about over. Why don’t you show your sister where she’ll be staying?” Bobby said. It was an order as much as a suggestion but Buck was going to take him up on it either way. 

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let me know if you need me to come back in.” Bobby silenced him with one look.

“We can survive the next hour without you, man,” Eddie chimed in. He walked over and pulled Buck into a one-armed hug as if he knew nothing could pry him away from his sister. Buck was grateful for the extra warmth Eddie provided him, either way.

“If you guys need anything, you know where we’ll be,” Hen assured, rubbing a gentle palm down Maddie’s arm until their hands were connected. Maddie squeezed it tightly and mouthed her thanks at Hen who brushed it off with a wave of her hand. 

“I can’t thank you guys enough,” Buck began, but he stopped himself from saying any more before any of his team could argue. “I’ll see you in a few days?” He asked, directing his attention to Bobby so he could let his captain know that his sister arriving wouldn’t impact his work. As if he already knew, Bobby nodded and wrapped an arm around Athena’s waist. 

“We’ll probably see you before then,” Bobby offered with a slight wink and Buck laughed. 

“You guys sure I can steal my little brother away early?” Maddie asked nervously. 

“Now that you’ve teased us with him leaving, you can’t take it back,” Eddie said from beside Buck. They both had to laugh and Buck punched Eddie’s arm in retaliation only for Eddie to grab onto his hand tightly, not letting him pull away yet. His voice was low as he muttered, “You’ll let me know if you need anything?” 

It was meant to be a question, but Buck knew it wasn’t. Everyone around them was so focused on Maddie and her injuries—which Buck couldn’t blame them for—that none of them really stopped to think how tough the next few days may be for the Buckley’s as a whole. But not Eddie. Just one glance from his friend told Buck that Eddie was well aware of the toll this might take on Buck’s good-natured mind and that Eddie was going to be there through it all. 

“Yeah,” Buck confirmed, resting a hand on Eddie’s neck in a friendly gesture of comfort, “I’ll call you.”

----------------------------

“I’m not going back there,” Maddie said the minute the door to Buck’s apartment shut. 

“I know you’re not,” Buck agreed because even if she hadn’t made the choice herself, he wasn’t going to see his big sister hurt like that again. 

“I grabbed what I could before I left and it’s going to take me a little while to get back on my feet, but—”

“Hey,” Buck said gently, wrapping his arms around his sister once more, “we’re gonna figure this out. It’s always been just the two of us, right? Sure, a few years have gone by, but you’re still the most important person in the world to me and we’re going to figure this out.” He repeated, believing the words so fully that Maddie must have, too. Her shoulders slumped in either relaxation or defeat, Buck couldn’t be sure which, and she pulled away enough for Buck to press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Can I stay here for a little? Just until—”

“Maddie, stop. You’re staying here whether you like it or not,” Buck said with a laugh, ruffling her hair in his hand before she could swat him away. 

“I just don’t want to impose on any guests you might have around,” Maddie said, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing around his apartment as if looking for signs of additional life. 

Buck sighed, “Go take a shower while I make up some dinner.” Maddie’s laugh was so refreshing, the tension of the last few hours seemed to fall right off of his shoulders. 

When he heard the water turn on, he busied himself with finding dinner even though he was still full from the large lunch at the station. He wasn’t sure when the last time Maddie had eaten was but her skin was too pale even through the bruises for him not to offer her something good. He rummaged through his cabinets for way too long, losing track of time as he listened to Maddie’s voice stop and start in the shower. 

He used to love listening to her sing. She had always been carefree and beautiful and that was always something he admired. He could hear the hesitance in her voice as she weakly sang through the chorus of one of her favorite country songs and wished he could heal whatever it was inside that had her balking. Buck loved her more than anything in the world.

With a deep breath, he reminded himself that she had made that first step, the one he had wanted her to so many years before. He smiled to himself, grateful that she made it back to him mostly in one piece. Even though she didn’t have that fire in her eyes that he remembered, he knew that her deciding to come home to him was the spark she needed to light it back up. 

A knock at the door had him cursing because the water had shut off and he still didn’t have dinner on the table. When he opened the door and saw Eddie, two pizza boxes in hand, he thought he might cry. 

“I figured you usually go grocery shopping with Chris and I and we’re running low on food for two so—” Buck interrupted him by wrapping him another suffocatingly tight hug. 

“Man, you could not have arrived at a better fucking time,” Buck sighed with relief. “I can’t believe you did this for her,” he muttered mostly to himself. Eddie opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Maddie trotted down the stairs, patting her hair down with a towel. 

“Eddie, right?” She asked, a twinkle in her eye that Buck wasn’t too fond of given the situation. “Did you bring us dinner?” 

Eddie nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, for, uh, you actually.” Buck took the pizza boxes from his hands and Eddie immediately ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as if suddenly bashful. Buck thought he looked more adorable than usual but brushed it aside. 

“That is so sweet of you,” Maddie said, knocking her hip against Buck’s. “Isn’t that so sweet of him, Evan?” Eddie snickered and Buck knew it was because of the use of his first name. He shot an unimpressed glance at Eddie who pressed his lips together in return as if holding back more laughter. 

“Eddie’s just a regular old saint if you ask anyone,” Buck explained with much more sarcasm in his voice than he really intended. Maddie didn’t seem to notice as she smiled up at Eddie. 

“Are you staying for dinner? I’m sure Buck would appreciate the company,” Maddie said happily, side-eyeing Buck as if he’d even thought to go against her words. 

“Oh, no, I gotta get back to my kid,” Eddie said, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. Buck knew Christopher wasn’t with him or else he would have asked them both to come inside. 

“You have a kid?” Maddie asked, mouth agape for reasons Buck didn’t know but would definitely ask her about later. 

“Yeah, Christopher. He’s—”

“—The best kid in the entire world,” Buck interrupted, turning to his sister. “Maddie, this kid is a spitfire and he’s got jokes and comebacks for everything, I swear! And he’s like the smartest 8-year-old I’ve ever met, not that I’ve hung out with many 8-year-olds, but still. You’re gonna love him!” Buck decided. He must have been rambling as both his sister and Eddie were staring over at him with amused looks on their faces. “…What?” 

“I mean, I was just gonna tell her his age, but I guess all that stuff is true, too,” Eddie teased. He flinched when Buck swatted at him with the hand that wasn’t holding the pizza. 

“He sounds incredible. I hope I get to meet him?” Maddie asked. Buck nodded quickly and a smile Buck wasn’t sure he had ever seen before tugged at the corner of Eddie’s lips. Buck was just about to offer for them to come over the following night when he remembered what he had already agreed to. 

“Oh, crap. The Marvel movie night!” Buck exclaimed as he finally set the pizzas down on the side table. “Did you already tell Chris I was gonna join?” 

“Yeah, but it’s totally fine. I’m sure he’ll understand that your sister is here and—”

“Nonsense! You promised that kid a movie night, he’s gonna get a movie night!” Maddie shouted as she opened up the pizza box and helped herself to a slice. Buck was glad she seemed to still have the appetite he remembered. “I don’t mind having a night to myself. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to just cry over a sad Hallmark movie with a glass of wine, you know?” Buck didn’t, but he also really wanted to hang out with the Diazes. 

“We can always reschedule. Marvel isn’t going anywhere,” Eddie offered, but Maddie just shook her head and slapped Buck’s arm like it was his job to convince Eddie he would be a fool to do that. 

“I’ll be over tomorrow at five with sandwiches to pay you back for tonight, okay?” Buck said softly, holding Eddie’s bicep in his palm. A blush covered his face and Buck wasn’t sure why he was being so nervous all of a sudden; they bantered and touched like that all the time. 

“Yeah, okay. Maddie, thank you for letting me steal him and enjoy the pizza. Buck, I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.” He waved as he backed away and Buck watched as he jumped into his car and drove off. 

Once the door was shut, Maddie smacked him on the arm and Buck recoiled, sending a confused glance at his sister. 

“What the hell was that for?” Buck asked, rubbing his skin even though it really didn’t hurt that bad. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating a coworker !” Maddie shouted, gaping at Buck with joy in her eyes that he had missed more than he realized. He was so focused on her happiness, it took him more than a few reasonable moments to realize what she had said. 

“I’m— Wait, what?” Buck asked, pausing mid-bite on the piece of the pepper and sausage pizza he made a mental reminder to thank Eddie for tomorrow. 

“Eddie?!” Maddie repeated in a squeal. “I knew after our conversation that whoever you were dating wasn’t just any old person, but another firefighter? A male firefighter at that? No wonder you didn’t want to tell me yet!” Buck blanched and finished chewing his pizza carefully so as to not choke. 

“Maddie, I mean this with no malice and all confusion; what the absolute fuck are you talking about?” Maddie scoffed and grabbed the pizza boxes, wandering to the living room and placing them on the coffee table. She made her way into the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge before settling down next to Buck who had to sit on the couch and think before he fell over. 

“Oh, you cannot even pretend that you guys aren’t head over heels for each other. The hand on your back at the station? The side hug? Bringing you pizza after a rough day? The blushing?!” Maddie raised her eyebrows at Buck and he honestly didn’t know how to respond. 

He should have said it was nothing. He should have said they were the only two openly not-straight men that he knew of who worked at the LAFD and were closer because of that. He should have said that they were just friends who put their lives at risk for each other every day so their relationship was bound to be special. He should have said all of that. 

But Maddie looked so happy and carefree so instead, he lied. 

“It’s… really new,” he said, echoing the words he had told her before she came to L.A. Her squeal of delight was enough for any regret he might have had to wash away and for his heart to soar that he could put that bright smile back on his sister’s face. 

“Evan Buckley, you have to tell me everything !”  Maddie crossed her legs on the couch and settled back against the cushions, making herself comfortable in the place Buck had started to call home. Even with the bruises and cuts littering her face, she looked at ease, and Buck smiled over at her widely. 

“There’s nothing to tell, Mads. He started at the station a few months ago and we just… hit it off. Like I said, it’s new and he’s… good.” He wasn’t sure why he had hesitated but he hoped she didn’t read too much into it. When she rested a gentle hand on his bicep and squeezed, he knew she had believed every word of what he had said. The fact it wasn’t a total lie was the only reason he didn’t let his guilt build up too much just yet. 

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” Maddie said softly, moving her hand up to cup the side of his face and brush her thumb along his cheekbone. He melted into the touch and closed his eyes, the words resonating through him as the ones he always longed to hear. 

“What for?” Buck asked. 

Maddie sighed and said, “For being you.” She tapped his nose with the tip of her finger before she added, “Now tell me all about him!”

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Yoo! I’m back in with an 11 Chapter (subject to change) story. This was made for the TWB Fic Flip, unfortunately I wasn’t able to finish the whole thing by the deadline, but chap 1 is out.

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

-------------------------

Techno Blade strode into the old gas station on the corner opposite the local mall. He winced at the harsh fluorescent lighting that welcomed him in from the crisp evening air.

He lowered his hood and ran his fingers through his short pink hair. His roots were coming in, he’d need to grab some dye as well tonight. Taking off his backpack, he began placing items in--trying to fit as much as possible: beef jerky, canned peaches, chocolate bars, a couple energy drinks a pack of Tic Tacs, and some box dye from the ends of the isle.

Techno glanced at the cashier. He liked when Tango was on shift; that guy didn’t give a shit about anything and cared more about Clash of Clans than whatever thievery Techno was doing whenever he came by.

“You plan on paying for that stuff?” Tango shouted across the room, still immersed in his game. “You know I don’t get commission if you steal it?”

“Of course!” Techno called back. He snorted to himself, it said a lot about his life that he and the cashier could joke about him stealing from the store. Techno grabbed another bag of beef jerky, slipping it into his steadily filling backpack. He heard the ding of Tango opening the till and the sound of coins splattering on the counter. “For Tommy,” he muttered, reminding himself why he was risking a criminal record.

There was an emergency exit he knew he could use down by the bathrooms. Techno studied the monitor that was supposed to display feeds from the four security cameras, but those were still busted from when those college seniors ransacked the place the week prior. Four different static patterns danced back at him. At least that would make his escape easier, not that Tango couldn’t point him out in a line up.

He grabbed a pack of gummy worms and put them at the top of his bag. “For Tommy to share with his friends.” He smiled to himself. Gosh he was going soft for the kid.

“Get down!” The front door was kicked open with so much force that the previously fractured glass shattered upon impact with the wall. “Hands where I can see them!” a male voice yelled.

Techno didn’t do that, his confrontation response telling him to stay put and out of it rather than submitting. Instead he crouched down and leaned his back against the aisle shelves, peaking out towards the counter. There were two guys pointing guns at Tango; one was ginger, black jacket, medium height, orange bandana peaking over his collar; the other was taller, but he was also less confident in his stance, blond, and he was wearing a purple sweatshirt--one that Techno was certain he had seen a thousand times before.

“Guys guys,” Tango said, trying to placate them. “I’m in the middle of something. Can this wait?”

“No. No it can’t,” he voice said again, clearly put off by Tango’s causal demeanor.

“Really? Cause I gotta get back to my Clan War…” he trailed off.

“Aren’t there more important things than a Clan War right now?” a new voice asked.

A voice that Techno recognized. If he thought the hoodie gave it away then the voice was the nail in the coffin. He let out an involuntary “Why?” before he could stop himself.

All three heads turn to him. “Like I said, in the middle of something; there’s a customer here.” Tango spoke slowly, as if the situation was finally dawning on him.

The ginger turned his gun towards the store. “Show yourself!” he demanded.

“Isn’t this place a little low profile for Las Nevadas?” Techno tried to joke. Eyes darting towards the door, Techno put his hands up. “I’m just shopping.”

“Not you’re not.” Fundy Soot smiled menacingly. “We’re doing a robbery, if you couldn’t tell. Take what you need and scram. Don’t call the cops either.”

“Got it.” Once Fundy turned his attention back to Tango, Techno grabbed a pack of M&Ms and shoved them in his backpack as well. He leaned down to zip it up, before tossing it over his shoulder and snagging a tube of toothpaste on his way out. Sue him, he needed a refill.

Techno carefully stepped over the shattered glass, and made his way out of the building. He regretted leaving Tango to deal with the gang, but sometimes he needed to put himself first. Always. Always put himself first. Techno vaguely wonders if he’s ever actually bought anything from this gas station.

“It’s immoral to steal,” yet another voice from the left side of the door called.

Techno whipped around and took in the man next to him. Techno first took notice of the red fabric folded neatly into a handkerchief pocket: a bandana. “You with those guys?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”

“Then why aren’t you calling this in?”

“Why aren’t you?” the man countered.

Techno gave him a sarcastic look, the sides of his mouth twitching in displeasure. “Because the guy with the gun told me to run, so excuse me.” He pivoted to make his escape.

“Say I said I was with those guys,” he said before Techno could make his escape. “What would you do?”

“I would assume you are Wilbur Soot. Brown trench coats and fluffy hair are the signature look of that guy. Looks like you’re watching over your brother and the new kid.” He shifted uneasily on his feet, ready to bolt. “Las Nevadas, saw the marker, figured it was polite to ask.”

Wilbur nodded, a gleeful smile taking over his face. He held out his hand. “Gimme the bag.”

“I need this.”

“Give it here.”

“Please,” Techno said, taking another step closer to his car. “Why do you need to take my stuff? You have two guys in there with guns.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Wilbur opened his palm, getting impatient. “I just want the M&Ms, kid.”

Techno glared at him, but he nonetheless opened his bag and handed them to the man. At least he could keep everything else in the bag.

“Thanks.” Wilbur ripped open the packaging and tipped his head back, sliding half of the bag into his mouth.

Techno took a tentative step back and waited a second for Wilbur to wave him off. “Hope Tango’s okay,” he muttered to himself on the brisk, stiff walk back to his car.

He threw the bag into the passenger seat and rested his head against the steering wheel--trying to slow down his beating heart--for thirty seconds before remembering that there was a robbery taking place ten meters from him, and he did not want to deal with the police.

Techno snorted to himself, and turned on the engine. As if he hadn’t gone in there with the express purpose of stealing.

He sighed deeply as he took stock of himself. He didn’t get shot--which was great. He also had a lot more food to add to his stash. His and Tommy’s stash.

Techno groaned out loud. Tommy. The person in the purple sweatshirt was definitely the kid’s friend Purpled and now he was going around robbing gas stations with Las Nevadas. “Why? It could have been anything else, but no: he just had to go and join a gang.” Techno slammed on the gas pedal more than was necessary. Techno parked his car a couple streets away from his foster home. He waited for a few minutes to collect himself. “Eleven thirty,” he read off the car’s dashboard. “Gonna have to use the window.”

He arrived at the house. Through the ground floor window he could see that the lights were on at the back of the house. The house he was in is quite old, and he’d managed to snag a room in the attic with a bay window jutting out the side of the roof. He’d had it for as long as he could remember, in fact the Foster Bitch’s was the only house he’d ever had the displeasure of living in.

Unfortunately, Techno was in the circumstance of having had to do this a hundred times. He hopped up one of the columns holding the overhang above the porch, feet slotting into familiar grooves. Swinging himself up on the shingles and quickly making his way to the concave corner of the building, he used his momentum to push himself up the next two stories. Finding the familiar scruff marks on the window frame, he hoisted himself up to the top of the roof.

Techno looked out at the street below, it was a nice few all things considered. He went to open the window.

Locked.

Right. It had been storming the night before and he forgot to open it in his rush to get to school that morning.

Techno looked up at the sky. It was nice out, and he wasn’t one to be bothered about sleeping in day clothes--better than facing the wrath of the Foster Bitch for entering the house at such a late hour. He’d have to sleep on the side facing the backyard, he remembered what happened last time he slept on the roof.

Techno knocked on the window. Yes, Tommy should be asleep right now, but it didn’t hurt to check. After a minute he knocked once more.

Techno smiled at Tommy through the glass when the kid finally dragged himself out of bed to let his roommate in. The blond stuck out his tongue and opened the window. “Evening Blade,” he whispered. “What brings you back so late?”

“Sleep,” Techno said, slipping into the room. He snorted at the sleepy, unamused look Tommy gave him. “Stuff. Did you eat?”

“No. The other kids got to it first.” Tommy closed the window behind them, leaving the latch unlocked. “Like always.”

Techno hummed and unzipped his bag. He dumped the contents out and started organizing them.

“How did you get that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Techno dug through the pile and pulled out a pack of beef jerky. He tossed it in the general direction of Tommy’s head. “Leave a slice for me.”

Tommy caught the bag and quickly tore it open. He watched Techno disperse the food around their shared room, taking note where each item would be. “Techno?” he called in a small voice.

“I know, Tommy. I’m careful.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Techno if you’re caught they’re going to send you away!” he said, still a little distressed. “Then how am I going to survive here?”

“I won’t get caught.” Techno reassured him. “And if I do, I’m not getting sent away. If that was the case I’d have been gone before you even showed up here last year.” Techno hummed; he remembered that party. Some kid he’d never spoken to couldn’t afford to lose their scholarship so little seventh grade Techno had taken the blame for the alcohol serving party held at the house that night. He chuckled as he remembered gaslighting the whole community that it was his idea, not his finest moment, but one he was proud of nonetheless.

Being barred from the dinner buffet for two weeks had been worth the reputation points. Plus, he learnt valuable hoarding skills in that time. The Foster Bitch was fine--all things considered--but she was under the impression that if she put out a bunch of food on the table, everyone would get an equal portion in the mad dash for sustenance.

That wasn't the case. Techno could get food just fine, but Tommy was a gangly fourteen year old with too much height and not enough bulk; it was virtually impossible for him to grab food off the table.

“I’m not going to get caught.” Techno said putting the gummy worms on Tommy’s night stand. He held out his pinky, “I promise. I’m safe.”

“Techno,” Tommy whined, unhappy with the response--ignoring Techno’s hand. “That stash is bigger than normal.”

“I know.”

“Techno.”

“The cashier was busy with something else.”

Tommy’s voice took on a colder tone. “Techno.”

“Tommy.”

“What was the cashier busy with?”

“Stuff.”

Tommy huffed. “It wasn’t a Dream Team thing was it? You shouldn’t be hanging out with them.”

Techno snorted. “I’m older than you. Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to tell you to stop hanging out with the wrong crowd? Dream’s fine. Besides, you hang out with his little brother.”

“Well yeah!” Tommy’s voice got defensive. “But Tubbo’s Tubbo. Dream’s in the news for stealing and shit.” Tommy munched on his jerky angrily, even if he was going to stay oblivious: they both knew that Techno didn’t have the money to pay for this. Tommy dropped the friend’s point and moved to double down on the previous one. “What was the cashier busy with?”

“Stuff. Not Dream. Not death. Just stuff okay?”

“Not death?”

“Not death,” Techno agreed sagely.

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

Techno took off his hoodie and belt, but otherwise didn’t bother with pajamas. “Nope.” He settled into bed and held out his hand for Tommy to pass him the food.

Tommy stared him dead in the eye as he ate the last piece of beef jerky from that particular package. Techno rolled his eyes, but he understood; Tommy had heard that from Techno before: the not explaining where he’d been. He knew not to bother his foster brother, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The next morning Techno and Tommy didn’t bother going to the kitchen for breakfast. Instead, they ate last night’s stolen granola bars in the comfort of their dingy penthouse suite--attic room--and listened to the thundering feet of the ten other foster’s in the house racing to get some food.

“If you want another, then take another.” It had taken a long time for Techno to teach Tommy that it was safe to take food from his stash; as far as he was concerned it was their stash. Hopefully, Tommy would stop feeling guilty about not asking, although that didn’t seem like it was happening any time soon.

Tommy sent him a half smile and scoffed down another bar. The two of them got ready for school, and were soon in Techno’s car. It was a ten minute drive to the high school, and Tommy sang along with the radio at the top of his lungs. It would be endearing if Techno wasn’t socially exhausted from the extrovert living in his room.

“I’m on top of the world, eh!” Tommy shouted, flipping off their foster siblings waiting at the bus station.

“Tommy.”

“What?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“ I’m on top of the world! ”

Techno kept his smile to himself.

He rolled the car to a stop in the school parking lot. Before Tommy could open the door and vault out, Techno spoke. “Today’s a ‘going to Bad’s after school’ type of day.”

“What? Why?”

“Hanging out with Dream.”

Tommy’s face soured.

“Come on, don't be like that.”

“It’s not that I don’t like Bad. I just don’t like Dream. He’s bad news, and in the news.”

“It’s just an English project. We need to make a PowerPoint on something or other.”

“Okay,” Tommy said stiffly.

“I don’t police your friends. You don’t police mine.”

“Tubbo’s not in the news. Neither is Purpled. And you can’t complain about Ranboo.”

Techno thinks back to last night with the Soot brothers and the new kid in a purple sweatshirt. “Put a pin in Purpled.”

“No!” Tommy looked appalled at the insinuation Techno just made about his friend. “Have some faith. Tubbo and Purpled won’t turn out like their older brothers. Crime isn’t a gene that runs in families!”

Techno smiled sadly. “I hope not. Get out.”

“What do you mean ‘put a pin in Purpled?’” Tommy demanded.

Techno shrugged him off. “Text me if you leave Bad’s, I’ll come pick you up later.”

Tommy harshly pulled at the car door. “Tubbo won’t be like Dream, and Purpled won’t be like Punz.”

“I never said Purpled was a mercenary!”

Tommy got out of the car, slammed the door, and flipped his brother off before marching away.

Techno was so glad that they didn’t share any DNA. Could you imagine that? But just because they were brother’s out of necessity and foster placement didn’t mean he didn’t care about the kid.

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - chapter 11

AO3

Chapter list is getting a bit long, link to all chapters is on my pinned post.

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Cordelia dreamt of a castle in the middle of the forest. She wasn’t sure what was happening, all she knew was she needed to get away, this wasn’t right. There was a woman with empty eyes and long dark hair, something similar to what Thomas had described when he’d seen the washer woman? She was carrying a basket with bloodied clothes and bent over into a stream to wash them. This had to be her, the same woman Thomas had seen.

‘Bearer of cortana,’ she hissed, her voice an awful shriek. ‘Beware the thief of souls.’

Cordelia woke up and when she checked her phone she realized it was noon. Everyone had to be up already, she rarely slept this late. She had gone to bed at eleven yesterday and fallen asleep rather soon, which meant she had slept for thirteen hours. Cordelia wondered why, she rarely slept this long. Yesterday had been a long and exhausting day for sure, but this exhausting? She picked out a simple dress and changed. Dresses were easy in that regard, since it only required her to pick out one item of clothing and she was done, instead of having to match several pieces.

Lucie was eating at the table, and Cordelia wondered if that was her breakfast or lunch. Considering the time, probably lunch.

‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wake up at all, or if you needed a prince to come kiss you awake. Or princess. Royal figure of indetermined gender.’

‘I did have a weird dream,’ Cordelia said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I only just woke up. Which is weird, because I don’t usually sleep for thirteen hours.’

‘You must be very well rested then,’ Lucie said, getting up from her seat to make Cordelia some toast.

Cordelia yawned. ‘Not really. Any news?’

‘You’re the only one who slept late,’ Lucie said. ‘Thomas and Alastair went to take another walk, they’re not back yet. I’ve been theorizing on what Tatiana is doing, or what Grace is and where she came from, but so far I’m not getting any further than her trying to bring back Jesse.’

‘Alastair is an early riser, always has been,’ Cordelia said. ‘Thomas too, apparently.’

Alastair often had nightmares and with his irregular sleeping pattern, Cordelia sometimes wasn’t sure if he slept at all. And he wondered why he was always tired.

‘Uncle Gideon still thinks he might be able to reach his sister, and went into the village again,’ Lucie added. ‘Dad is with him, he doesn’t trust Tatiana but is willing to give it one more chance. So far, they didn’t find her.’

Cordelia didn’t know Tatiana and didn’t want to judge, but if her intention was to bring back her son, she wasn’t sure Gideon would be able to change her mind.

‘Have you ever heard of the thief of souls?’ Cordelia asked.

Lucie frowned. ‘Maybe… It does sound like something out of a book, maybe. Although that could have been thief of hearts too. No, doesn’t ring any bells.’

‘In my dream someone said “Beware the thief of souls”,’ Cordelia said. ‘It could be just an ordinary dream, but I can’t be sure. It might be important.’

Cordelia tried to connect the term with what Lucie had learnt about Jesse Blackthorn. He’d died, and he’d disappeared somewhere, reappearing recently around the same time a washer woman warned Thomas of unpaid debts.

‘What if Jesse didn’t just die?’ Cordelia suggested. ‘What if this thief of souls is called by that title because it takes people’s souls in exchange for whatever someone asks for, and that’s what happened to Jesse.’

‘And then Tatiana made another deal to get him back, and right now he is a ghost,’ Lucie said. ‘Which might explain why the debt is no longer considered paid even if Jesse is still dead.’

‘But if that’s true, then how can we save Thomas?’ Cordelia asked. ‘We’d have to give back Jesse.’

‘Or we defeat the thief of souls,’ Lucie suggested. ‘That way we can save both Jesse and Thomas. No one deserves to be held as a price by such a being.’

‘Can something called the thief of souls even be killed though,’ Cordelia mused. ‘It sounds like a very powerful, perhaps even immortal being.’

‘They say cortana can kill anything, right?’ Lucie said.

‘You’re right, they say it can even kill immortal beings. But I’m not sure even with cortana I would stand a chance against such a thing, there’s also the matter of fighting it. I’m not giving up on either of them and if it comes down to a fight, I will fight. But perhaps we’re overlooking something and there’s another way to save them both.’

Still, if there was a way to kill such a thing, it was cortana. Cordelia would give it her best. She’d always wanted to be a hero, now she would have to prove she had what it took.

‘I don’t like giving up on Jesse’s soul,’ Lucie said. ‘And we definitely can’t let Thomas die.’

‘Either way, I’m going to practice,’ Cordelia said.

She and Alastair had practiced fighting together in childhood, both carrying wooden swords that had been made to match cortana in weight distribution. Since the real sword was so sharp, practicing with it together was too dangerous, but the wooden swords had worked. Alastair had lost interest in his early teens after cortana had chosen Cordelia, only joining her in practice when she begged him to.

She was used to the sword now, to its weight, the way it felt in her hand, and she knew how to fight with it. She’d never actually fought anything though, and according to her father that was the best way to learn. He’d trained her when she was very young. Their training together had become less and less frequent though, and for a long time Cordelia thought it was because he’d gotten sick.

She practiced her movement with the sword, repeating combinations of both attacks and defenses in one fluid motion. Cordelia had never doubted that someday she would fight evil with cortana. It was her destiny after all, and someone had to carry the sword. She’d always wanted to be a hero, like her father once was.

But now everything was coming much closer than she liked. Now Thomas’ life was in danger and Cordelia had no idea how to save him. Now she realized cortana alone might not be enough. Not when she had no idea what to fight, no idea what was coming to claim Thomas’ life. She wasn’t so sure anymore if this life was going to be what she dreamed it would be. She was scared she would end up like her father. Alastair refused to admit it, but Cordelia suspected he shared that fear, even if he had decided he didn’t want to devote his life to the supernatural.

‘That looks good,’ Lucie said. ‘Could you teach me, how to use a weapon?’

Cordelia frowned. ‘I only have cortana, I don’t have any other swords. Alastair does have daggers though. When he comes back, you could ask him to borrow one. Even if you don’t know how to fight with it, you would have a chance to defend yourself.’

Cordelia continued with some more complicated moves, practicing swift dodges followed by attacks. She had to be ready for anything. Lucie returned inside, and emerged a while later with a glass of water.

‘You need anything to drink?’

Cordelia gratefully took the glass of water and drunk it all as fast as she could, spilling a few drops. When training, Cordelia tended to get lost in herself and forget to drink. Lucie had the same problem when she was writing, but had several daily phone alarms telling her to drink.

‘I looked up that boy in the lake to see if they made any progress in the investigation,’ Lucie said. ‘So far it seems like he drowned, but the parents requested an autopsy because they think it’s unlikely since their son is such a good swimmer.’

Cordelia had expected as much. ‘At least now the parents have some closure. Poor child.’

‘I can’t imagine,’ Lucie said. ‘And the story of being trapped, it’s so similar to what Jesse said. Although the boy didn’t mention seeing any monsters or being stalked by something.’

‘There are vague stories of people getting trapped in places in the wild, but I’ve never seen anything that proves it’s real,’ Cordelia said. ‘Nothing like you described, at least not in the stories I remember from my father.’

‘I imagine most people don’t live to tell the tale,’ Lucie said.

‘I know, but… My father might have survived such a thing, and I don’t think I ever heard about it from him.’

Cordelia suspected that with the many years her father had travelled the world to slay evil creatures, he had told her and Alastair the most exciting stories and there were a few she might not have heard. Though she imagined something trapping people would be considered exciting. Perhaps her father did know more, but Cordelia was terrified to contact him, and she didn’t want to ask anyone else to either.

She still felt betrayed by him. She could sympathize with an addiction, it was an illness and she couldn’t blame him for seeking something that eased his pain. She knew her father had seen things most only saw in horror movies, she understood why he might want to forget. But he’d lied to her about it. She knew why Alastair had wanted to protect her, she didn’t blame him for not telling her the truth. Her father though? He’d gladly gone along with Alastair’s attempts to keep her in the dark, pretending to be overcome with sickness when he was drunk. Pretending the scent of alcohol was really medication for his illness. He’d often asked for her when he was sick, and she’d gone to read him stories, to keep him company while he rested. She hadn’t understood at the time, why Alastair didn’t like her taking care of him, why he’d insisted Father was sick and needed sleep even when her father kept asking for her.

As a dutiful daughter, she’d always gone when her father asked for her. She’d read him stories, kept him company, believing he was sick and not drunk. She had given up other obligations for him. She’d missed school parties she’d been excited about, because she couldn’t bear to leave her sick father after he’d asked her to stay.

Only now did she realize that as a father, he should have encouraged her to go anyway and have fun. That taking care of her father was not her responsibility and he should not have expected her to give up so much for him. Alastair had always tried to convince her that it was fine, that he could take care of Father too and he didn’t need her there. A couple of times he had managed to convince her, Alastair insisting she would regret it for a long time if she missed Lucie’s birthday party. She was still grateful that Alastair had practically dragged her away that day. No one else had shown up for Lucie, all the other children she’d invited thought she was weird and at that age Lucie had been desperate to be liked by her peers. Cordelia had almost abandoned Lucie too.

Now she understood why father had always asked for her, and not Alastair or her mother. She’d always believed it was because she was more like her father, because she was more affectionate whereas Alastair and her mother were rather closed off. Now she understood her father had preferred her because she was the only one who didn’t know he was drunk, because she would be kind and feel sorry for his sickness whereas Alastair resented him for being too drunk to be take care of his children. No, even if he knew the most about the supernatural from all his travels, Cordelia was not ready to call him to ask and she would never ask Alastair to do such a thing. No matter how betrayed she felt, what he’d been through was worse and he should never have to speak to their father again.

‘You alright, Daisy?’ Lucie asked.

‘Just thinking,’ she said. ‘Maybe my father does know more, but I can’t… I really can’t ask him.’

Lucie nodded. ‘I understand. If you really think he knows more, perhaps dad can call him instead to ask. And perhaps uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily know more as well.’

Cordelia figured she could ask, but she feared her father would make it difficult for them. She’d learnt just how manipulative he could be, and she could easily imagine him refusing to talk to Will unless he’d let him talk to her.

Cordelia decided to practice a little longer, it had been a while with everything that had happened lately, and there wasn’t much space or opportunity at her aunt Risa’s apartment. She couldn’t be unprepared.

Lucie sat down to watch, book in hand, but Cordelia didn’t think she was making any progress reading. Instead, Cordelia caught her staring at her movement. Perhaps Lucie was studying her movements, in an attempt to learn more about fighting herself. Ultimately, it all came down to practice though. You didn’t learn how to fight by watching other people do it.

‘Aren’t Alastair and Thomas taking a little long?’ Lucie wondered. ‘They left early in the morning.’

‘I figured they’d be at the cottage with Sophie,’ Cordelia said. ‘They’re not?’

‘Mom is there with aunt Sophie,’ Lucie said. ‘She just texted me, we could come over for some tea as well. She mentions all four of us, apparently aunt Sophie would like it if Thomas came back for tea as well. So mom must have assumed they returned here after she left.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘What time is it?’

‘Four in the afternoon,’ Lucie said. ‘Dad also texted that he and uncle Gideon couldn’t find Tatiana and are coming back. But I haven’t heard anything from Alastair and Thomas. I’m not sure about Alastair, but it’s not like Thomas to disappear for so long and not let anyone know.’

Alastair could lose track of time on his long walks, but this was extreme even for his standards, and he would have at least texted her by now if he’d changed plans.

‘That is one long walk’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ll call Alastair.’

She turned cortana back into her necklace and took her phone out of her pocket, calling her brother. He didn’t answer, which was unlike him. She tried again. Nothing. She texted him instead, asking him if he was alright and when to expect him back. Alastair didn’t receive the message, maybe his phone had died. He rarely forgot to charge it though.

‘He’s not answering,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ll try Thomas.’

Thomas didn’t pick up either, after several tries, and when Cordelia texted him he didn’t receive anything either.

‘Nothing either.’

‘Perhaps they don’t have cell service,’ Lucie said. ‘If you go far enough into the woods, that would happen.’

Cordelia guessed Lucie had a point, but that didn’t explain why they were spending almost a whole day into the woods. They weren’t experienced hikers, they must get tired at some point, right? And they would have at least let someone know if they would be gone for so long, this was worrying even for Alastair.

‘Maybe we should go looking for them.’

‘They could be making out though, maybe they don’t want to be interrupted,’ Lucie suggested.

Cordelia frowned. ‘In the middle of the woods?’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Who am I to judge?’

‘They’ve been gone for long enough that I think we should go looking,’ Cordelia said. ‘They could be in trouble.’

She put on some different shoes that were better suited for the forest and texted Will they were going to look for Alastair and Thomas, warning them to come find them if they took too long.

‘Do you really think they could be in trouble?’ Lucie asked when they walked into the forest, nervous.

Cordelia understood Lucie was scared, but if she was then how had she run after Tatiana into the woods just yesterday evening? If anything, her friend was chaotic.

The forest was a bit darker than she was used to in the bright sun, which was odd. The fog was a little thicker than usual, and Cordelia made sure to stay close to Lucie.

‘I don’t know,’ Cordelia said. ‘But only one way to be sure.’

A howl pierced the air. Cordelia could only tell the general direction it was coming from. It didn’t quite sound like a wolf, but it was similar enough.

‘Stay behind me,’ Cordelia said, removing her necklace and taking cortana into her hand. ‘I don’t know what that is, but I’m not going to let it harm my brother.’

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 11: ON THE CASE

Word Count: 3369 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: T Content Warnings: swearing, references to violence (canon-typical) Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Normalcy || Masterlist

A/N: Sorry it’s taken me so long, my loves. This chapter was rough. And I’m not a mystery writer, so I can only hope it satisfies.

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“So,” Diego said around a mouthful of cereal, absently scratching Duncan’s head with his other hand. “Who exactly are we looking for?”

“John Miller. Assistant archivist at City Hall,” you explained stirring your coffee. “He plays pool with my fence and a few others on Thursdays. I mentioned I was looking for a big score with a flexible timeline, something to work on in the background between things. He put us in touch.”

“And you’re sure it was Miller that sold us out?”

“He’s the only option.” You shrugged.

“What about Derek?” Diego offered, frowning. 

You froze, staring at him, agape for a moment.

“No. No way,” you shook your head. “The only person I’ve known longer is my brother, and maybe yours. There’s no way he would do that. I trust him.”

Duncan whined, sensing your distress and circling the counter to press himself against your leg instead of Diego’s. You absently placed your hand on top of the dog’s head, comforting him if not yourself. 

“I just had to ask. Cover all our bases,” Diego said, trying to placate you.

You glared for a moment, before deflating with a sigh. “I know…”

“Other than city hall, do you have any leads?”

“No…” you admitted. “But if he’s not at his office, maybe someone there will know where to find him. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Maybe...this is a mistake and we should just leave it…”

Diego frowned. He’d never known you to just give up, not for anything. And yet, he had been hoping you would, scared for your safety and how things might play out. 

“That’s a change from what you’ve been saying,” he observed cautiously. 

“I know but...if Miller ratted us out, and Reginald hired extra security, the kind that use real guns and shoot first, don’t ask questions...what if he also did something to...silence loose ends?”

You hated that you were suggesting it, didn’t know if it was even probable. But you had to say it out loud. You just hoped that by calling him Reginald and not Diego’s father, it would make the suggestion seem less horrible, although it didn’t seem to be working well on yourself.

“Isn’t that all the more reason to keep looking? If someone is hurt, or dead, because of my father, and we’re the only ones who can put those pieces together, we have a duty, don’t we?”

You chewed nervously on your lip. “I...you’re probably right.”

“I could go alone if you’re worried?” he offered. “You’d be safe that way.”

“Diego,” you sighed, fixing him with a level look. “That makes no sense. I’m worried that this is too dangerous for the two of us together, why the hell would I let you do it alone?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Are you trying to reverse psychology me?” you gaped at him, scandalized. 

He shrugged. “Did it work?”

“You don’t have to convince me to do anything, Diego. I’m not going to give up, even if we probably should.”

“Good. But, we should be on our guard.”

“Are we ever not?”

“Even more on our guard than usual,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

~

City Hall proved to be a quick dead end; the only thing John Miller had left behind was an office that looked like it had never been used.

“There must be something,” you fumed, running your fingers anxiously through your hair as you paced the empty room. “This can’t be it.”

“We could try asking? Or find a phone book?” Diego suggested, shrugging. 

“We’re going to need more to go on than a name when it’s as common as John Miller. There’s probably twenty of them in the area.”

“Good point. Trash can.” Diego pointed to the unassuming bin under the desk.

“What?” You frowned at him in confusion.

People always forget to empty the trash can, and throw out all kinds of things. Like receipts.”

“Worth a shot.” You sighed, circling around to kneel down and take a peek inside. 

Diego was right that when trying to erase the fact he’d ever existed, Miller had forgotten that little detail. But it didn’t look at first glance like it would be all that helpful, just old napkins and cigarette butts. You grumbled something about him being a fire hazard and sighed, resigning yourself to rooting through. 

“Jackpot,” you muttered before tossing a balled up receipt for ‘May’s Clean-n-Dry’ to Diego. “Think we can do something with that?”

“It’ll narrow things down at least.”

“Great. Then let’s get out of here. We’ve hung around too long already.”

~

It took several more hours, before you were able to narrow down from a radius near the dry cleaner’s to an exact address. The sun was setting as you approached the unassuming brick-faced building. You scowled at it, almost annoyed that for something likely so important it looked so...ordinary.

“So he lives on the second floor,” you said, reviewing the notes you had jotted down throughout the day. “Alone. We should split up and approach from multiple angles, in case this is a trap.”

“No. We go in together,” Diego argued. 

“Diego, be reasonable. I don’t like it either. But we both know it’s the best way to do this.”

“Y/N…” he frowned, expression deepening at your determined and somewhat annoyed look in return. “Fine. But I’m going in the front door. If he’s there and expecting trouble that’s where he’ll expect it from.”

“I’d argue with you about being overprotective, but that was already my plan anyway.”

You leaned over and kissed him swiftly, trying to comfort him and sooth your own nerves, seeking some sort of reassurance in it that the two of you, together, could handle anything that might come. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, clinging to you and answering your emotion with his own desperation and need. 

“Showtime?” you asked when you parted finally, quirking an eyebrow at him and smirking excitedly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice quiet. 

You slipped out of the car, immediately wrapping your powers around you to blur the sight as you crossed the street and circled the building. It wasn’t hard to find a fire escape and open window, slipping inside and crouching in the shadows to wait for some sign of Diego. Glancing around, you noticed that the apartment looked like it had been tossed, clothing and personal belongings scattered.

The front door creaked open and Diego slipped inside, freezing immediately as you heard a sound from the next room. 

Suddenly, Miller burst through, not noticing either of you as he tossed the room further, like he was looking for something.

“John Miller?” Diego asked, stepping into the center of the room and making the other man freeze, wide-eyed. 

“Are you here to kill me?” he asked, strangely calm. 

“Now why would we do that, John?” you asked, leaning against the sill you had just come through.

He shrieked, jumping to look at you, fists raised. You watched him standing there, trembling, and frowned, casting a look over at Diego.

“B-b-because of the robbery. The warehouse. You’re mad it was a setup, right?”

“You knew?” Diego snapped, pulling a knife. You rolled your eyes and waved for him to stand down.

“Now why would you sell me out John?” you cocked your head. “Seeing as I’ve never done anything to you.”

“It wasn’t me! Please you have to believe me! The old man came to me!”

“What old man?” Diego snapped. “Tell us everything.”

“No. No. I can’t. I have to get out of here! We all have to get out of here!”

You were starting to suspect that John was going to cry, or piss himself. He was terrified, certainly not the sort of man you had expected. He didn’t seem like the sort to be a criminal mastermind, or even an informant. Something wasn’t adding up, again, and you were starting to get really angry about it.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “You got in over your head, obviously. And you’re scared. Talk and maybe we can help you.”

“You can’t. No one can.” He shook his head. “He’s going to kill me.”

“We can protect you,” Diego offered, holding out his hands placatingly. “You just have to tell us everything.”

“No. No one can protect me. You least of all.”

“We can,” you insisted. “If you just calm down and tell us exactly what happened.”

“You don’t understand. He paid me a lot of money to bring the plans to you. To get you to break in. Not just any thief. He told me your name, where to find you, who to contact. He wanted you.”

“He...what?” Diego asked, voice catching.

“What was his name?” you forced out past the lump of fear in your throat.

“You did what he wanted. I know too much. I’m a loose end. I know how this works. Now if you’re not going to kill me, I have to get out of here. I have to hide. Maybe he won’t find me. But I have to go.”

“What. was. his. name?” you asked. You knew the answer. But you needed to be sure, to hear it. 

“Hargreeves.”

“Fuck,” you sighed.

Diego looked pale, like he might be sick. You felt the same. 

“Get out of here,” he told Miller, shaking his head. 

~

“Just trust me, alright?” you asked, holding Diego’s gaze. “We’re not going to engage, we’re not going to do anything risky. Just take a quick look around and see what we see.”

“No. Y/N. It’s too dangerous. And what if we find something?”

“Then...I don’t know. we should probably go to Eudora? You said yourself that we’re the only ones who can make this connection, so we have to do something. Right?”

He was chewing nervously on his lip, a habit you were pretty sure he’d picked up from you at some point. 

“But he’s also your father, and I get it if that makes this complicated for you…”

“Going to the police will mean we have to explain how we know. And having something concrete.”

“That’s why I said Dora, specifically. She’ll be more understanding than most. Maybe she’ll be able to help us swing it so that we don’t end up in jail too. Either way, that’s assuming we can figure out exactly what’s going on.”

“We won’t find anything sitting out here. Let’s go.”

The pair of you stayed in the car, parked across the street from the infamous Umbrella Academy for another several minutes.

Diego, you could tell, was nervous to reenter the place he’d grown up in and left behind long ago. There were so many memories within those four stone walls for him, and most of them were bad. You almost expected him to balk at the last moment and ask that you go alone. And you had made contingencies in your mind for just that purpose. But Diego was never one to run from a fight. 

You, on the other hand, were terrified to potentially confront your father and brother in law, for both Diego’s sake and your own. You hoped that the building was empty, or that the only beings inside were Diego’s mom and...whatever one classified Pogo as (and you weren’t sure that wasn’t “your husband is pulling your leg about just how weird it was growing up in that house”). But none of your luck had been good so far, so it seemed like too much to hope. 

“We should get going…in there and...g-get it over with...” Diego said haltingly. 

“We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I can come back alone or something,” you rushed to assure him, catching his stutter immediately. 

He shook his head. “No. Let’s finish this.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze while the other fell to the door handle. He returned the gesture with a strained smile and a determined glint in his eye. Without speaking, it was like the pair of you counted to three, synchronizing. 

The Academy towered over you both, casting a looming shadow even from across the street. You swallowed and set about to work. 

~

“Diego?” a voice said, stopping your husband short. Slowly you both turned toward the door on your right. “What are you doing here? Who’s she?”

“Is Dad here, Luther?” Diego asked instead of answering questions. 

“No, he should be home soon. Don’t try to tell me you’re here to see him though. I know that’s not true.”

“No. We’re looking for answers.” 

Luther seemed more confused than combative. You let your eyes wander over your brother-in-law’s large form and decided that was probably for the best.

“Answers? Answers to what?” his voice raised slightly. 

You practically feel the way Diego tensed beside you, his hand subtly dropping to one of his knives. You stretched your fingers to dance over his and try to get him to ease off, for now.

“Diego, what’s going on? And you still haven’t answered who she is.” Luther pointed a finger accusingly at you.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering a smile and stepping forward to shake Luther’s hand, only to retreat when he shifted as if expecting you to launch an attack. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Diego,” you didn’t like the tone of Luther’s voice now, a warning, or a scolding maybe. 

“We don’t have time to explain Luther. We just need to take a look around before Dad gets back.”

“No. Not unless you tell me why.”

“I...had a run in with some guys that tried to kill me,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “I have reason to believe your father might be involved, and convinced Diego to help me...snoop.”

“You've always been selfish, Diego,” Luther snapped, face darkening in anger and disbelief, and Diego scowled back, “but this is a new low. I can't believe you'd turn on us for some girl.”

“She is not just 'some girl', Luther!” Diego had drawn his knife in a blink and pointed the tip of it at his brother. 

You flinched. You didn’t want it to come to a fight between brothers. Even if Diego probably could handle it physically, and pretend he was fine with it emotionally, it didn’t seem right to you. 

Luther scoffed disbelievingly. 

“She’s my wife. I love her, I have to protect her. We…” Diego hesitated, afraid of how easily the words felt like they could roll off his tongue. “We’re family.”

“What would you know about family? You ran away from yours as soon as you could!”

“We didn’t have a family growing up. This, between Y/N and I, is real, not forced because our father thought it would make us easier to control.”

“What exactly makes her so special?”

“Y/N sees me. I’ve never been a number to her, or our last name. I’m just me. And she cares about me, flaws and all. She’s been here for me no matter what. She makes me happy. Really happy.”

“And that’s enough?”

“What else is there?” you asked softly, shrugging apologetically. 

Luther turned his glare on you. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Don’t talk to her like that, Luther,” Diego warned. “I made a decision. Now get out of our way.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me do this, Number One. I will.”

He shifted into a different stance, one you recognized from the boxing ring when he wanted to taunt his opponents and look weaker than he really was. Luther seemed to take the bait, raising his fists, and the two brothers circled each other slowly in the foyer of that house.

You stepped back, neither of them seeming to notice you anymore. Your heart fluttered, and nervously you wondered if you should stay in case Diego needed your help. Part of you wanted to step in and put a stop to it, to remind them that they were family too and should be on the same side. 

But then your logical mind kicked back in. The watchdog was distracted. Now was going to be your best, probably your only, chance to slip away and look for answers. If you moved quickly, everything would be fine. You rationalized that this was probably part of Diego’s plan, and you slipped away.

Most of the house was just empty rooms, storage and old bedrooms, places that hadn’t been lived in in years. You passed one with drawings on the walls, chicken scratch and frantic pen and wondered whose mind had been so excited that they couldn’t look for paper (you had your suspicions though). Another with scuff marks in the door and holes in the walls, as surely Diego’s as anything you’d ever seen. 

‘At least now he uses a board to practice,’ you thought, smiling softly.

Passing further down the hall, you found a back stairwell and followed it up, circling around a balcony strewn with memorabilia of the famed Umbrella Academy and of the exploits of Reginald Hargreeves. You scowled. The whole building was a monument, a museum of one man’s ego and you wanted to light it all on fire.

Reigning in your temper, you tried one of the doors on the upper level, easing it open to reveal a cluttered space that was quite clearly a study. 

“Alright, Reginald. Tell me your secrets. It’s the least you can do,” you breathed, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you. 

Immediately, you went to the desk, piled high with papers and journals. There was too much to stop and read. You needed more to go on, so you started leafing through, looking for some sort of system or organizational mark. You swore under your breath after a few minutes of hunting. Of course there was nothing that straight-forward. He was too smart for that. 

Just as you were considering giving up, you found a folder full of papers stamped with D.S. Umbrella Co. letterhead. Most of them were just lists: dates, locations, item descriptions, something you thought might be crate numbers or license plates, names. You frowned, tugging at your lower lip as you read through them, looking for something. On one page, the date a few months prior, was the name of someone you recognized as a missing person. But there was so little else to go on. Still, you pulled it out and shoved it in your coat pocket, planning to take it and study it in more detail later. 

You returned the rest of the folder to the drawer and straightened to go. Then something you had missed before caught your eye and you paused.

Underneath a pile of what appeared to be invoices for building materials and construction equipment, you found a journal, red-leather embossed with the letters RH, apparently hastily hidden. Easing it carefully out, trying to disturb everything around it as little as possible to cover that you had found it, you flipped the obviously important book open and began to read. 

First was a list of locations, some crossed out, some with initials or marks next to them, and eight circled, including one you recognized as your parents’ home address. Your jaw clenched angrily and you kept reading, finding notations about which children he had found, how’d he’d acquired them, and added in a different ink at another time their numbers and abilities. Skimming a few more pages, you realized that this book was full of observations about the seven children and their raising/training. A chill ran down your spine when you realized that there were also notes about you. Eventually you shook yourself, trying to absorb the information was taking too much time, and irrelevant to the matter at hand. 

Flipping to the end, you scanned the last entries. Much of it was in code, and you growled in frustration, but one date caught your attention: your wedding date. Starting there, you began to study and puzzle through every entry, wishing you had a pen and paper to help you. 

Before you could get very far, a hand fell on your shoulder and you gasped, spinning around to defend yourself. 

Instead, you felt rooted in your spot by the cold glare of Reginald Hargreeves. 

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 13)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! I am so excited to be back with this story after the month I spent away, and I find it so wild that in that past month so much happened with royals in the actual world. I wouldn’t say it inspired this chapter at all, but it was cathartic to write a story where the Prince and Princess get a much healthier, more healing reception. I know how many of you love this fic, and it definitely has a special place in my heart as well. It’s been so important to me that I do the ending of this story justice, and so it took a bit of time to get my thoughts organized. This is one of the final chapters, and I only anticipate one more actual story installment and then maybe, someday far off in the future, an epilogue or two. That being said, this is a long-awaited milestone for CS and I have attempted to infuse all of my usual cuteness and romance. I hope that you all enjoy, I would love to hear what you think, and thank you all so much for reading!

Gazing out upon the overlook as the sun rose over the tree line in the Montenarran morning, Killian was comforted once more by the vastness of the world and the beauty that danced before him. The light shone with a color and vibrancy he’d come to know and love, but this morning the air hummed with languid layers of anticipation. Maybe it was Killian’s excitement and nerves, but he didn’t think so. No, if anything the world seemed to shimmer today, a sign from above that the timing was right and that he was ready to take this next big step.

The next time I visit this place, I’ll have Emma by my side, he thought to himself, soaking in the comfort of such a plan. 

This was on his list of places to share with his Swan, but he reasoned that he had all the time in the world for such gifts. Today, though, he was planning to make that assumption a reality. For finally, after nearly three days of being parted from his love, he was planning to propose, in a way befitting a woman of Emma’s caliber.

Instinctively, Killian’s hand moved to his pocket, drawing out a small black box which held a ring inside. The ring was beautiful and ornate, an overt and ostentatious display of love, but one with inherent meaning. This was the ring his grandfather had given his Gran, a ring forged for the purpose of real and lasting love. It was not exchanged at their wedding, but instead in a private ceremony the two of them shared some weeks later. Their wedding had been arranged, but still they’d found real love. This ring was a gift, however, given at the turning point where Killian’s grandfather knew that his love for his new Queen was more than mere arrangement – it was true and totally transformative.

“Your brother, as reigning monarch, has full claim to your grandfather and my wedding bands, and he will make good use of them with his Elsa, I am utterly assured,” Gran had claimed some weeks back when she stole Killian for a private moment. On that night, she was serious and sincere, most of her deeply playful nature tucked aside for a brief window of time. She glanced at her the matrimonial ring she still wore, years after the death of her dearly departed husband before looking back to Killian with conviction and calm. “The love between them grows each day, and is befitting of what me and your grandfather shared. But this ring I’m giving you, Killy… this ring is something else altogether. This is magic made metal. This is perfectly genuine affection forged into precious gems.”

“It is gorgeous, Gran,” Killian agreed when she presented the ring to him. “But I can’t take something like this from you. Not when it means so much.”

“That’s why you must have it, Killy. If your Grandfather were here, he would say the same. This ring bound us in life, but now we are bound through so much more.”

For the first time in years, likely since the death of his grandfather himself, Killian watched as tears trickled down his Gran’s face. It instantly pierced his heart, for this was a woman who always showed strength. Even when he was on deployment and gone for years on end, his Gran persevered. She may grow misty eyed or get choked up, but tears were a whole different story. Only the memory of her husband could prompt them, and Killian thought to himself not for the first time that she had been so strong for so long, going on without him.

“Our love is forever, living, thriving, singing its song for now and for always. I miss him, every day, every moment, I wish that he was here, but someday we will have each other again. And in the meantime, this ring deserves another union. It was made to be passed through generations. I will confess that I wondered if anyone should ever be worthy of it, if love like ours would find its way here again. But I needn’t have doubted. You and Emma are made for each other, and it would be my honor for Emma to wear this.”

Killian agreed whole heartedly with his Grandmother’s explanation, and he knew no more beautiful stone could be found the world over. This ring bore a remarkable yellow diamond, encircled with smaller stones of the same rare hue. The exact shade sparkled in the sunlight, but almost seemed dipped in the golden glow of a summer’s afternoon. It was pristine and poetic, warm and well beyond the pale, reminding Killian of the highlights in Emma’s hair and the lilt of her laughter. Her joy was precious, more precious than any stone, but as he gazed upon the rock, it felt quintessentially designed for his Swan. It was happy and bright, bold and beautiful, and he knew, despite its flair and size, that Emma would love it.

The only thing left to do is ask her.

The thought breathed new life into Killian, even more so than the Montenarran morning, and he walked back through the forest paths towards the palace once more, energized and ready for the day ahead. He had everything planned and had been working on this for some time. There were many moving pieces, but he’d squared them all away. In the end he would see to it that this was perfect, for that was exactly what his Swan deserved.

Arriving at the palace just after the sunrise, Killian moved with purpose and precision. He had only a little bit of time, and much to accomplish.

“The last of the parcels have been delivered, Your Grace,” one attendant announced as Killian walked through the palace doors. “The bulk of them are here, as you see, though some are in the green house for obvious reasons.”

“Excellent, Jacque. Thank you.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir, it’s just… are you certain you don’t need help arranging things? It’s a significant amount of work here. The staff is happy to assist.”

“I appreciate that offer, Jacque, but I’ve got things well in hand. I’ve been planning this for some time.”

A thoughtful smile appeared at the older man’s face, one that broke the traditional polite protocol and spoke to how long he had known Killian and the royal family. “Of course, Sir. Well, in that case, best of luck.”

Killian took the well wishes to heart, knowing he had a massive task before him. Perhaps he could have given himself more time to bring all of these pieces together, but to him, it already felt like too much time had been wasted. He was more than ready for this next step with Emma, and after three days spent apart, not seeing each other in person, or sharing much more than a few texts and facetimes, he was particularly desirous to see this through. He had been strategizing on how to get this right for quite a while, and by now he knew each assignment down to the letter.

“I assume that your dismissal of Jacques offer goes for us as well?”

Killian glanced up, finding his mother on the stairwell. From here she was stately and elegant, a poised dowager Queen with refinement and grace, but as she descended, she became more herself, and by the time she was in front of Killian, taking his hand in hers, she was no more and no less than a wonderful mother. His greatest support for many years, and someone who he knew would give anything she could to make this moment special.

“It does, at least for this. But with the children arriving in a few hours’ time -,”

“Not to worry on that front,” his mother said cheerily, her own happiness at the thought of all the Institute’s residents coming to the palace for a special premiere outing. “Your Grandmother and I have all in hand, and Liam and Elsa are set to help us. It’ll be a day to remember.”

“Good,” Killian said, looking around and finding his Gran already in full form, instructing the staff as to the desires she had for the outdoor space. Through the glass of the palace’s wall of windows, her words were muddled, but the humor was clear as day. This woman, frail and aged from outward appearance, was a firecracker, ruling over the days designs with an iron fist. “Surprising that Liam is giving Gran such a wide berth.”

“Well how could he not? He’s yet to come down for the day. Hard to give orders from a distance.”

Killian let out a whistle, and laughed as his mother swatted his arm and ‘tutted’ his boyish actions. Knowing when enough was enough, he left unsaid the clear reason that his brother would choose to stay abed so late in the morning. Killian would stake his life on the fact that a certain guest was here within the palace, and that she likely made a visit of the overnight variety.

“What are the chances that Gran doesn’t know?” Killian asked and his mother shook her head.

“Zero.”

“And the likelihood that she will say something?”

“That’s still to be determined.” Killian was shocked at his mother’s genuine opinion. He, for one, thought it undoubtable that Gran would make mention of this moment, gleefully commenting on the need for royal heirs or some such outlandish claim. “Eleanor is direct and prone to speaking her mind, but she is also strategic. If the calculated risk of such a comment is too high, she will deny herself. She would never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s prospects.”

“You really think a smart comment from an old woman is enough to keep them apart?” Killian asked, thinking back on the few weeks that Liam and Elsa had shared since finding each other again. They had been as close to inseparable as the schedule of a King would allow. It was clear that they were both entirely invested, so much so that a royal announcement would be made in the coming days announcing their relationship.

“Not for a second.”

“So, if you know that, and I know that… surely Gran must know that.”

At that exact moment a maid was walking back into the house, opening the glass doors. From the outside they could hear his grandmother calling out to Liam and to Elsa, who had been discovered somewhere in the backyard. They no doubt were trying to be more discrete, but Gran seemed to have no interest in allowing them that privacy.

“Oh Lord, it’s time,” Meera said with a mix of worry and also amusement. Her eyes were alight with the humor of the moment, but also the very real awkwardness that may soon transpire. “I best get out there and spare them from what I can.”

Killian nodded, but wasn’t ready for the impact of his mother’s arms around him squeezing tight. It was not in any way part of the royal protocol, but his family never paid much mind to that. Still, this was a big hug, one that was obviously filled with tremendous meaning.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling. You’ll give her everything she deserves, and the two of you will be happy. So wonderfully, beautifully happy.”

“Thanks, Mum. Love you,” he whispered, accepting her soft kiss on his cheek and her shared words of love in kind before she dashed off to help his elder brother. A Queen should never move so quickly, but then again, Gran could do quite a bit of damage in the seconds it would take to get from here to there. For his part, Killian only chuckled to himself before heading to the side of the palace towards the gardens for the day.

The next few hours were defined by attention to detail and purposeful precision. Before meeting Emma, Killian could safely say he never imagined the lengths and planning required for a proper proposal. The idea was so intangible, so unnecessary in his estimations, that he never dwelled on even the possibility. It seemed unlikely that his heart would ever be touched in that way. He assumed he’d go through life a bachelor, or worse yet, that he’d cave to eventual pressure and say yes to something arranged and designed without feeling or passion. Luckily for him he had escaped such a fate, and instead had been steered through the grace of all things good towards a woman who was far and away the most remarkable he’d ever met.

Emma was rare and extraordinary. He had known it from their first meeting, and he continued to hold onto this truth every day they were together. There was never a moment when he didn’t realize his good fortune, or when he took her presence in his life for granted. Emma had revived him. She anchored him into the goodness of the world, and she showed him what could be. She expanded his horizons, even brought with her a son, another key part of a growing family, and by her side, Killian felt like he was capable of anything.

He only hoped that the elements he’d gathered today would translate as he imagined they could. This was a memory in the making that could only be shared once. Killian wanted to be sure that it was what Emma wanted and deserved. Luckily, he’d had help and more than a little bit of intel, mostly provided by Henry and from a few other insiders who knew Emma best of all.

“Are all systems a go, Captain?”

As if he’d conjured Henry with the grateful thought of all the boy had done for him, he turned now to find Emma’s son in the garden. Killian watched as the lad took in their surroundings, his eyes growing wide, and his whispered ‘this is so cool’ a welcome sign that Killian’s efforts had not been for nothing. He stood from where he’d been bent down, tidying up the last of his efforts, and when he gazed upon it himself, he had to say he was happy with the outcome.

“Aye, Lieutenant. All the necessary components are accounted for.”

“Good. She’s going to lose it. In a good way though,” Henry said with a smile which burned bright.

“Is everyone arrived then?” Killian asked and Henry shook his head.

“Soon, but not just yet. Anna and I have been here for a while now. Gran needed help with the game set up, but I asked if I could see you first.”

The look of wonder and happiness that had clung to Henry since arriving colored to something a bit more pensive. The shift gave Killian some pause for the first time all day. “Everything all right, lad?”

“Everything’s great, I just – well I was wondering – I mean if Mom says yes – or rather when she says yes, because she’ll totally say yes, it’s just that, well I – I was wondering…”

“No need to be worried, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Whatever you have to ask me, I’m here to help. You have my word I will make it right.”

“I know. And you’ll love Mom forever, right?”

“Aye, lad. Forever and then some.”

“And you love me too,” Killian’s heart clenched as he automatically nodded.

“Yes, Henry. I love you both, undoubtedly.”

“And we’re going to be a family.”

Killian didn’t know what to say. Down to his bones he knew that they would be. He was confident in this union between him and Emma. They had made promises already, declarations of love. He would give anything to be her husband, and he knew that someday he would be, but to say it aloud to her son when Emma herself hadn’t had a chance to even be asked was something else entirely.  In the end, he decided to just go with his gut.

“In my heart, we already are.” Henry beamed up at him, the worry of the moment melting away. Still, Killian never imagined what he’d say next.

“Well then I was hoping that maybe, when you and Mom are married, maybe I could call you Dad?”

Killian was overwhelmed with the request. It was something he had wished for, but didn’t want to press. He knew Henry had no memories of his biological father, but he never wanted to assume. It was a massive move for a young man to ask such a question, but Killian’s answer to the query was instant and heartfelt.

“I would be honored, lad.”

“Cool,” Henry said happily, brimming with the excitement he’d had since Killian first told him about his plan to propose to Emma.

Henry moved forward, hugging Killian with the affection of an earnest hearted ten-year-old, and Killian savored it, knowing he would always see Henry as his son. He may not be his blood, but he lay claim to a large piece of Killian’s heart. He silently swore to always do right by Henry. To protect him and to teach him what he could. But mostly he would support him, and show love to Henry and his mother all the days of his life. Before Killian could speak to more of that, the sound of busses pulling up, and happy children streaming onto palace grounds wafted through the air. The time had come. This was the moment.

“You know the plan, son?” Killian asked, the word slipping off his tongue so easily, and bringing real joy to Henry’s eyes.

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have Mom to you in five minutes. You can time me.”

Killian might have laughed at the fervor and excitement Henry shared, but unfortunately, five minutes waiting in a moment like this felt like a lifetime away. The only thing that got him through were the last-minute adjustments, and the journey that was needed from where he was, to where they’d start their memorable afternoon. Finally, the moment came where Killian was waiting at the start of the hedgerow, even further from the festivities and he could hear the woman he loved, unaware of his being here.

“Henry, seriously, what’s going on? The party’s only just starting. We have time for a tour later. We can go with the others.”

“Trust me Mom, this can’t wait.”

“What is it Henwy?” a tiny voice Killian would know anywhere asked. Cecelia was with them, another sign from above that his plans were moving the way he wanted.

“Something magical,” Henry said and Killian could hear the sharp trill of an excited little girl.

“Like fairies?”

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

“Something magical, huh?”  Emma parroted, but at that moment they all stepped into view.

Three days may be but a blip in time to some, but to Killian it had felt like an eternity. The peace he now experienced at seeing his Swan again was profound, and somehow she was even more stunning than when he’d left her. The day’s light shone in her hair and in her smile. She was gorgeous and relaxed, dressed in a delicate pink sun dress designed to tease and torment. Her radiance outshone every flower in this garden, and in the moments before she saw him, he soaked in the sight of her. God she was beautiful, too beautiful to properly behold. His heart skipped and his muscles tightened, and then her eyes landed on him and he was whole.  The world was righted once more, and all because Emma saw him and felt the same pull he felt emanating from his chest. The surprise in her eyes was evident, followed immediately by relief, and joy, and love, and all of it was too sweet a call to resist. He moved towards her and the children, sending up one last prayer in this critical moment.

Please let her be mine. I swear I’ll deserve her. Whatever it takes.  For I am hers, body and soul, and I always will be.

………………

God he’s gorgeous, Emma thought instinctively upon finding Killian at the far end of the garden hedge. That thought was followed closely by, Wait, what is he doing here?

“Killy!” Cecelia cried out happily, letting go of Emma and Henry’s hands and sprinting towards him. Emma watched as Killian crouched down, accepting the hug from the little girl who effortlessly stole their hearts. He closed his eyes momentarily, soaking in the moment, and then he pulled back and pushed some of her wayward curls from Cecelia’s eyes, smiling at her with genuine affection.

“Good morning, little love. How are you finding the palace?” Emma’s heart clenched in her chest in the best way. He was just so sweet with her. He always had been.

“It’s so so good,” Cecelia replied, bringing a laugh out of all of them.

At the little girl’s enthusiastic endorsement, Killian thanked Cecelia and then stood once more, looking at Emma with those captivating blue eyes and that charming smile that always took her breath away. She was still trying to fathom his presence here. They had spent the last few days apart, days she found so much more difficult to manage than she expected, but he wasn’t set to return for a few more days. Liam had sent him on state business. She didn’t press for details, assuming it was confidential, but now, she was curious as to this wonderful turn of events. Before she could ask though, he walked over to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her surely. She leaned into this embrace, loathed to let him go, but he seemed to remember they were in the presence of little eyes. It was a fleeting kiss, but still invigorating all the same.

“I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be away the rest of the week.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my brother for that white lie,” Killian said, his hand coming up to scratch at his ear in that subtle show of bashfulness she’d witnessed a time or two. “If you’ll recall I never actually confirmed an itinerary, having sworn never to lie to you again.”

“So, you weren’t on a… huh, let’s see, how did Liam put it? A ‘mission for the future of the nation’ then?” 

“Not exactly. But then again, in some ways, that’s exactly where I was. Do you trust me, love?”

Emma nodded, and watched as his smile grew warmer. She knew that it meant to him to have her trust, but in her eyes, he had earned it ten times over. Killian was a good man – the best man she knew – and he made her feel safe. Of course she trusted him. She had never trusted anyone this much before.

“In that case, I’ve some things to show you. Henry, you’ll be sure to hold down the fort in the meantime?”

Emma looked over to her son, and only now realized that this was all planned somehow. Her boy looked pleased as punch, and even sent a salute Killian’s way. “Yes sir. And Cecelia will help, wont’ you Ceci?” The little girl nodded, joyously, thrilled at the prospect of helping. “We’ll see you both soon.”

Killian nodded, leading Emma in the direction of the garden. The further they moved into the hedgerow, the quieter it became, until the only songs around them were those of birds and breeze. Emma was amazed at all of this, but she was also still wrapped up in his return. It felt so good to be back with her hand in his, the glow of his presence enveloping her. She’d never missed someone like she had the past few days, never ached this way to be reunited with someone. It was a testament to all she felt for him and how much she’d come to love him. Quietly she stopped walking, pulling Killian’s attention. With a quick glance behind them, she saw no one had followed. They were totally alone and so she made her move. Pulling him down for another kiss, she said a proper hello, and shivered in delight at his reaction.

His hands were on her, seemingly everywhere, holding her close as they tasted each other. She felt his soft dark hair between her fingers, where she ran them through by the nape of his neck. She arched in closer, feeling the friction of their bodies together, and sighing in pleasure when they pulled apart. It couldn’t go further than that, but Emma felt more secure having shown him even in a small way how happy she was to see him.

“Hell of a welcome home, love,” he growled out, words low and throaty from his own swirling emotion. “If leaving wasn’t torture in itself, I’d consider more trips just for this.”

“No need to leave for these,” she whispered to him, leaning in for another kiss but then nipping him gently instead and stepping back out of his grasp. She smiled at his evident frustration, and laughed when he groaned in defeat. He knew he was had, but from the way he pulled her back into his arms, running his hand along the small of her back and looking at her adoringly, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You are a marvel, love. Have I mentioned that yet?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she teased, looking back to where they’d been walking and giving him silent permission to lead to their destination once more. “It’s beautiful out here.”

Beautiful was an understatement. In truth, Emma had never seen such intricate floral designs or such an array of colors and flower species. She had to imagine it was more than a palace garden. This had to be one of the most beautiful botanical spaces in all of Europe.

“Much of that is my mother’s doing. Her passion project, so to speak. She brought us out here when we were boys. Showed us bits and bobs. But this has always been hallowed grounds. Special, and perhaps, as Henry hinted, a little magical as well.”

Emma was poised to reply, but at that moment they turned a corner and things changed. They were still in a garden, but this time – oh lord it was difficult to describe. Magnificent was the first word that came to mind, and ethereal came soon after. For where there were blossoms and buds before, now there even more, hanging from pergolas above and winding through ivy vines on every hedge. Some were clearly naturally placed, but Emma noticed pieces woven into this area that she’d seen before, half a world away.

“Windchimes,” she murmured, looking at the gorgeous displays that reminded her of home.

There was a storefront, totally discrete from the street view and far off of the beaten path, deep in the heart of Chinatown, that she and Henry had found when he was younger. It was filled with artisan chimes and motifs and mobiles made from natural items and glass and more. The owners were amazing and known in crafting circles around the globe. The first day Emma and Henry visited taking refuge from a sudden winter chill, the couple who owned the store had taken the time to walk her son through their work. They’d then spent hours in the studio, and though Emma had very little by way of money for a purchase, they’d showed her and Henry nothing but the utmost kindness. She’d always found the pieces beautiful, comprised of shells and flecks of crystal or silver and gold, swirled into constellations that evoked a night sky or sense of wonder. 

Over the years she and Henry returned to the studio many times, and even bought a few pieces when she could save enough to treat herself to something precious. There was so much beauty crafted in each piece. Emma always found herself wanting more, and she loved their trips back over and over again. The style  of this artwork was one of a kind. Emma had never seen other pieces like these, but here, in this patch of the garden, there had to be a hundred intricate, delicate, interrelated art pieces dancing in the wind.

“How is this possible?”

“Henry may have mentioned something. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. God, the time it must have taken to put this all together…”

“Was time well spent, believe me, love.” Emma looked to him and she could have sworn from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he was the one who had done this. But that was crazy. How could he have possibly had time for all this?

“But how did it all even get here?”

“I brought it.”

“You brought it?” Emma asked, stunned, her fingertips grazing the smoothed lines of one art piece dripping in sea glass. “You were in New York.”

“Aye.”

“But why?”

“Patience, love. There’s more to see.”

Emma had no idea how there could possibly be more, but she tucked her arm through Killian’s and walked with him to the next section of gardens. Here there was a sudden burst of purples and whites, and a scent she’d been missing without even realizing it. Lilacs, but none of them in season. Oh God, look at all of them.

“Killian,” she whispered, looking at what must have been thousands of bouquets of her favorite flower. It was unbelievable, but it was real, and she moved forward, seeing them all set up and displayed prominently in the midst of a garden with white roses. It was gorgeous and surreal. And now she was utterly dazed and more than a little confused.

“You and Henry are well known at the Brooklyn gardens love, as I’m sure you are well aware. I had it on good authority from a woman named Ella that lilacs are your particular favorite.”

“These can’t all be from there,” Emma said and Killian shook his head.

“No, these are admittedly sourced from a few specialty purveyors across the continent. But this,” he pulled out a polaroid of a small lilac tree that was recently planted. Looking at the surroundings, Emma realized that was outside Killian’s home here in Montenarro. “This is directly from the gardens. The same family and strain, all the way from New York.”

Emma was too shocked to speak, and felt the tears welling in her eyes. He had done so much for her, and she knew it was for one reason. He wanted to bring part of her home, part of a place that meant so much to Henry and her, here to his home. It was so thoughtful she felt tongue tied. What could she say? This was all so much.

Unbelievably there was even more, and over the next few minutes he took her through three more break away gardens, each filled with other staples of her one-time home. Food and culture and memories and more. This man had managed to find all of the best parts of her time in New York and he had brought them here. Some of them were things completely out of the realm of possibility.

“I can’t believe you found this,” Emma said, holding onto a years-old piece of construction paper that had been forgotten to time.

This picture was one of so many projects that her son had made in life, but Emma cherished the memories that went with it. Another example of the city’s serendipity, this painting chronicled a day of adventure for Emma and Henry. They’d wandered all through the city, and ended up in Queens for a special summer program for kids. She was always looking for magic moments for Henry, especially ones designed for a budgeting single Mom, and this one had delivered. There were story times and games, crafts and activities, and Henry had been thrilled. He made this picture of the two of them, and though it looked nothing like Emma, it had captured her heart. It also caught the eye of the librarians working that day and they’d selected it to put on the wall in the Children’s wing. Henry was oh so proud, his four-year-old heart filled with joy at getting to hang his art somewhere aside from their refrigerator door. It meant something to Emma, another example of her doing her best by her boy, and giving him all that she’d never had.

“There was a picture of you and Henry and this particular masterpiece in the Saturday Times.”

“Okay now how could you possibly know that?”

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Hubbard. She was very forthcoming, and she’d saved the article. Has it framed and everything.”

“You spoke to Mrs. H?” Emma asked completely bewildered, and Killian nodded. “And the library had it all this time?”

“Aye. In the archives. Nothing a few strategically planned favors couldn’t procure.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Emma said, letting the tears finally fall. This was all too much, but she was immediately comforted by the feel of Killian’s strong arms. His hand came to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping some of the tears as he shook his head, his eyes full of earnest feeling and emotion.

“That’s where you’re wrong, love. You deserve every good thing the world over. I know it’s presumptuous for a man like me to ask for such a treasure, but I swear to you I’ll spend my life giving everything I can.”

“I already have everything. I have you, and Henry,” Emma said. “This is beautiful, but it’s nothing to you.”

Killian hummed out a sigh of contentment, but where Emma expected a kiss, she watched instead as he pulled back, reaching for something in his pocket. “I was hoping you’d feel this way. Makes this next part a bit less nerve wracking.”

In a smooth gesture, he pulled out a small black box and lowered to the ground. Watching Killian drop down to one knee here in the gardens, Emma felt totally adrift from all cares of the world. She was stunned and yet deeply aware that this had all been a long time coming. There was no doubt in her heart that she loved Killian, and she held no fear over taking this next step. This man had shown her for months that he genuinely cared for her and her son. He would move mountains for them, if only for a possibility of their happiness. He was selfless and loyal and true, and he made her brave, emboldening her to believe that the risk was worth it. Love was worth it. Still, it was shocking, to be adored so deeply, and to know that someone truly felt the world began and ended with her.

“Emma, I realize that this is perhaps soon by some standards, but believe me when I say that I have been aching to ask you this question since the moment we met.”  

More tears formed in her eyes, thinking back on that day. Her world had truly shifted in the span of one morning. There was a time before Killian, before romantic love that ever made her hopeful, and then there was more. It all started at the center, but it built well beyond those four walls. Knowing what she did now, she had to call their encounter what it had been – love at first sight. Maybe she hadn’t admitted it then, and surely she hadn’t said it aloud, but that is what transpired. She took one look at this man, this extraordinary, incredible man, and she was hooked, plain and simple.

“You amazed me then, that first day at the Institute. I didn’t realize anyone like you could truly be real, or that I was capable of forming an attachment with such strength. I had seen too much, I reasoned, knew the darkness of the world in ways that may leave me lacking for the rest of my days. I thought such chances at something halfway near normal were beyond me, but those first sparks between us proved me wrong. I was totally ensnared, caught in a web you couldn’t help for making, and still, that immediate response can’t compare to all I feel now. Knowing you – loving you – I am more certain each and every day that you hold my heart in your hand. I am yours, Emma. I have been yours, and I will remain yours all the days of my life.”

There was absolutely no chance at stopping from crying now, but the sensation was one of happiness. She was actually living a fairytale. Her, the once lost girl who never had a nickel to her name, or a friend to keep her going. She had survived the cruelest affairs of the heart. She had been so terribly and tragically alone, but she persisted, and she learned, through the grace of her son, and the courage of her convictions, to live. Now with Killian she was starting anew, building up the small life she’d shared with Henry into something much bigger. To say she was exited at the prospect was an understatement.

“Emma Swan, will you -,”

“I want to adopt Cecelia!” Emma said abruptly, blurting out a seemingly unrelated fact in the middle of what had been the most beautiful proposal. She was mortified, but only for a moment. Because the smile on Killian’s face calmed the storm inside her.

“Ah, right. You see, I had anticipated that, though in the interest of full disclosure I envisioned this part of the conversation after your reply to the proposal. Regardless, I offer you this, love.”

Emma watched as he juggled the ring and instinctively she took it, holding the box and sparing another glance at the absolutely beautiful band. Her fingers itched to put it on now, but she knew it would be so much better to let Killian do the honors. She then watched in amazement as he pulled out a series of papers from inside his jacket. He opened the file containing them all and showed her an application for adoption. The child in question was Cecelia, and the forms listed both Emma and Killian as petitioning guardians. Now she was completely overwhelmed. He knew every single part of her. Every hope. Every dream. He was perfect.

“Family is so much more than blood, Swan, as we both know, and I think we’ve known for sometimes that Cecelia will always be our princess.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered. Yes to everything, yes to all of it.

“I’ve also spoken to Henry, not intentionally per se, wanting to speak with you first, but it would mean the world to adopt him as well. I don’t know how you’d feel about that, but I-,”

“Yes,” she said again, this time with even more conviction.

“Yes?” he asked with a hopeful grin and she nodded. “Well in that case. May I, love?”

She handed him the papers which he put down beside them with care. Emma watched as he took the ring box back from her other hand. He settled down on bended knee again, preparing himself for another attempt at asking her to marry him. It took everything in her to bite her tongue and let him actually get the request out.

“Emma Swan, love of my life, light of my spirit, and queen of my heart, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Yes.”

Everything from there went quickly as he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box without care to the group. Killian was up at full height in mere moments, pulling her in for a scorching kiss and Emma was complete. It may not have been a totally according to plan proposal, but Emma believed what they had was even better, because it was real and true and filled with so much love. She could think of no better way to start a beautiful forever, and when they pulled back, resting their foreheads against each other and soaking in the moment, Emma let out a sigh of sheer relief. This was what they meant when they said happily ever after, and it was so very worth the wait.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy,” Emma murmured aloud.

“Neither have I,” an emotional voice said – only it wasn’t Killian. The voice continued. “Truly beautiful.”

“Gran,” Killian muttered shaking his head. Emma bit her lip and covered her mouth. They had absolutely just been caught out here, but when they both turned to see their unexpected audience, consisting of Killian’s family, Elsa and Anna, and Henry and Cecelia, a different person outside of all the rest, was revealed to be the culprit.

“You take that back, Killian, for you know better than that,” Gran said, standing beside a dressed up and dazzling looking Mrs. Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard was there too, his hand on Henry’s shoulder and his leg being held onto by a very friendly Cecelia. Emma never expected to see her dear, sweet neighbors. Their appearance here in Montenarro left her floored.

“My new friends are a treat, believe me,” Gran continued, walking forward, and seemingly giving everyone else the silent permission to do the same. “But their spying skills need work. I would never speak through such a moment, nor rustle these hedges with quite so much gusto. Not to worry though, they’ll learn.”

Everyone descended in that moment to wish them all well, but the most important reactions came from Henry and from Cecelia. The happiness of both of these kids – their kids – gave Emma tremendous joy and satisfaction. She was also thrilled to share this with their blended family, and with the friends who had become such strong bonds in her new life. After much congratulations, everyone returned to the party, and an announcement was made. If Emma believed the reaction to be enthusiastic from her loved ones, it was even bolder from all of the children at the center. Indeed, the happiness and infectious sense of hope made for the best party any of them had ever been to, and created an afternoon like none she’d ever experienced.

Hours later, Emma was still reeling from the high, and loving the fact that she and Killian had stayed together all day. He’d never let her go after her saying yes, always beside her, supporting her, adoring her, and loving her endlessly. She was so happy with him, but as the day drew to a close, her spirits dampened slightly. In his usual form, Killian caught on immediately.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, sure that no one else was listening, even though they were still amidst the party.

“Nothing,” Emma said automatically, though that was only half true. “This is one of the best days of my life. It’s just… the waiting…”

“Aye, I’ve considered that too. But I think I’ve arrived at a workable solution.” Emma looked at him curiously. “I will submit for a special license from the crown. The King and I are on decent terms you see.”

“Decent, huh?” Emma teased, looking over at Liam and finding him swaying with Elsa on a makeshift dance floor. There wasn’t even any music playing, but to this happy couple, and to the children dancing nearby, that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“He’s been in better spirits of late, as you might imagine.”

“Seems to be going around.”

“Mmm,” Killian hummed out, running his hand along her cheek and looking at her with sincerity and bliss. “We can have everything arranged in a week. It’ll be quite the undertaking, but the staff is up to the challenge.”

“A week?” Emma said, not believing it. Surely it must take longer than that, but she loved the idea. In truth, she’d marry him right now if she could. “Can we really do that?”

“Just say the word, Emma.”

“Yes,” she said nodding. “It’s crazy. Actually it’s totally insane, but yes, please, yes.”

“As you wish,” he replied kissing her again under the party lights and lighting her aflame once more. “In the meantime, I’ve no wish to be apart. We should be together, love, as long as that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“Everything’s ready. I’ve been working for weeks on it. The rooms for Henry, for Cecelia, all of it. It’s merely a matter of moving your things in, all of which can be done tonight.”

“You’re serious?” Emma asked and he nodded.

“A magistrate’s already granted temporary custody for Cecelia. You can take her home now while the process continues. Please, love, say you’ll all come home to me.”

Emma looked over to Henry and to Cecelia, who were dancing together on the floor. Emma watched as her son already took so well to his new sister, and as if she’d conjured his attention, Henry glanced her way. He waved, a sign that Emma returned. Drawing attention to them set Cecelia in motion, and soon the little girl was dragging Henry across the party. Soon enough they were back together, the four of them a new but undoubtedly permanent unit. Cecelia jumped into Killian’s arms, and Henry came to Emma’s side looking up with his knowing expression.

“What’s up, Mom?” he asked and Emma smiled, unable to resist pulling him and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“How would you feel about moving to Killian’s house -,”

“Our house,” Killian stressed and Emma chuckled.

“Sorry, our house, tonight?”

“That would be awesome!” Henry said excitedly. “Can we do that?”

“Aye.”

“And me too?” Cecelia asked hopefully.

“Yes, honey, you too,” Emma said, brushing a stray curl from Cecelia’s face. The kids made their feelings known. They were in, totally and completely. “Well I guess we have our answer then.”

“Aye, love. The best of answers, all around.”

And so, later that night, when the festivities of the day had ended, and the children all departed, Emma and Killian, Henry and Cecelia all headed home together, enjoying their first night in a place that would always be theirs. And though Emma knew they were in for a crazy week of planning and party design, and wedding wildness, she was truly joyful. For this was a life beyond her wildest dreams, and she knew, deep down to her core, that it was going to be breathtaking.

Post-Note: So… what did you think? Personally, I found it SO cathartic to write this scene. It’s been such a long time coming and I have pictured this outcome for Emma and for Killian even before writing the first word of this story. Almost a year ago to the day this story came to me, and my hope is to write out the final chapter by the one year anniversary in early May. Hopefully it won’t take quite so long, but please know that it has been a joy to write this and share with all of you. I hope this chapter and this fic have brought some brightness to your world and some magic to your moment. This has been an insane time, but I’ve been grateful to share it with all of you. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed, and I’d love to hear what your hopes for the end of this story are. Until next time, wishing you all well and healthy and safe! xE.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 18 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Rus makes a decision.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning:  Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

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Read Chapter 18 on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Lilies were lovely flowers, and it was a damn shame that Humans seemed to only associate them with funerals and Easter. They made for a beautiful focal point in a bouquet, large waxy petals in a bright array of colors surrounding the dark stamen, dozens of them spilling out and around a vase or basket, brilliant shades complimented by a delicate frame of leafy greens.

So many gorgeous colors available and Blue grew many of them, but the lilies Rus was working with were white, only a hint of creamy yellow at their centers. They smelled nearly as beautiful as the crimson roses that joined them, each delicate bloom nestled into its cushioning bed of neighboring white.

(A single red rose, please)

Only Rus’s fingers were stained with redness, not from those velvety petals but from the thorns, the dark crimson of his own marrow spotting the lilies, smearing bloody across those pale petals and he couldn’t stop even as they began to wither under his touch, white petals spotted in redness curling up and dying, and—

Rus woke with a gasp, the cold sweat on his bones chilling him as the dream of withered petals slowly faded. He sank back against the mattress and ran a trembling hand over his face, grimacing at the dampness.

Next to him, his brother slept on obliviously, his smaller frame buried deeply in the luxurious comforter on their borrowed bed. The bathroom light was on, seeping out to cast the room in shadows and even in the dimness, Blue’s much-loved face was lined with obvious exhaustion. The crow’s wing of a bruise running down his cheekbone wasn’t quite hidden into the pillow, stark against pale bone.

Thoughtlessly, Rus reached out with the vague idea to heal it and hesitated with his fingers still inches from that bruise. Tired as Blue was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to sleep through any sort of magic being used on him. Better to let him rest and take care of it when he woke up, and if looking at it made his gorge rise with swelling guilt, then Rus only had himself to blame. This all might have started with him getting dragged in, but things had changed since that day in the shop when he had hidden behind the counter in a stranger’s arms.

That day was over and a new one was dawning, one where Rus complicit, for not listening to his brother’s warnings, for not keeping his distance, for letting his desire for Edge overrule his rather uncommon sense.

No, that wasn’t entirely true, at least one other person was at fault here, the one who’d caused that bruise. He wasn’t sure he believed Blue that their so-called host wasn’t to blame; even if he hadn’t struck the blow, he’d obviously failed to protect them as promised. Broken promises tended to multiply, that was a hard lesson Rus learned while they were still Underground.

Well, he certainly wasn’t lost in a metal fog any longer. He felt as if he were waking up from more than an unpleasant dream. His pleasure-tinted memories of last night in Edge’s bed had lost their luster the moment he got a good look at his brother’s bruised face and cold reality settled in its place, sinking down into the pit of his soul like cold water sinking to the ocean floor.

Somehow, he’d been slowly starting to forget the truth; that he and Blue were here unwillingly, staying only for protection against revenge that hadn’t been theirs to begin with. They were very bad men, Edge warned Rus of that from the very beginning, and Edge was still planning on dealing with Blaze however he would; someone would likely be dead and dust by the end, and Rus couldn’t allow himself to forget that, if only to ensure that neither he nor his brother were part of it.

Rus wrapped his arms around his legs, settling his chin on his updrawn knees. Where the hell did he think this was all going to go, anyway? When everything was said and done, and Blaze was dealt with, where did he fit in a place like this? He didn’t, that was how, did he really think he’d be able to finish up his shift at the shop making bouquets and then come back here to pretend he didn’t know what was happening around him, both inside and out of these walls. Even if Edge wanted him for longer than a few nights, Rus couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

His brother’s comment about getting paid well might have been cruel, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. Only it didn’t seem to be dollars that Rus was bartering with, but instead his own soul.

No. He couldn’t let that happen, not to Blue. His brother worked so hard for everything they had ever since their pop left. He wasn’t going to throw it away, not for a few minutes of pleasure, he couldn’t.

This would end eventually; they would go back to their home and their flower shop and leave all this madness behind, and though it made a fresh lump rise in his throat to think of it, Rus decided that he would tell all of this to Edge today. Whether it ended in pleading or demands didn’t matter, he was going to end whatever this was, could it even be called a relationship? All Edge knew about him was what he’d seen through a window. It was time to set aside this ridiculous fantasy, if not for himself then for his brother’s sake.

The sheets were still clinging to him clammily, sweat from his nightmare drying uncomfortably on his bones. Rus slipped carefully from the bed, snatching up his phone and using the flashlight to help him pick out fresh clothes from the closet.

It was still relatively early, only barely past six am, no wonder Blue was still sleeping. Normally, Rus would be as well, it was another hour before his time to groaningly drag himself out of bed and down to the shop for his daily shift. As tired as he was, the idea of crawling back in to lay on the damp sheets didn’t appeal much.

Instead, he went into the bathroom to change, this time in a pair of loose, flowing trousers with an oversized sweater layered over a plain button-up. It was a heck of a lot closer to something he’d find in his own closet, even if he could tell by the feel of the fabric that it was from some pricy department store and not the local thrift shop. He wondered idly if someone had actually gone shopping for these new clothes or if they’d simply ordered in like Chinese takeout. He had kind of a hard time picturing a delivery boy turning up at the back entrance of the club loaded down with bags of clothes instead of egg rolls. Whoever brought ‘em, he was reluctantly grateful for the quantity even as he shrank away at the thought of how long they might be intended to be there, and how could he stay away from Edge living directly down the hallway from him, how could he…?

Rus resolutely pushed that thought aside, splashing cool water on his face and patting it dry. It was a good thing their closet was filled, he told himself, ‘cause the clothes he’d worn yesterday were downstairs in the stripper’s dressing room, probably never to be seen again.

That thought made him cast a guilty look at the clothes he’d worn up here, the ones loaned to him by Mona for her brief tutorial on dancing. They were lying in a careless pile leftover from last night’s shower and he bit the tip of his tongue worriedly. Maybe Mona would need them back, someone had to. He could ask the Dogs to bring them to her with a note of thanks…or he could take them himself and let her know that he was all right.

Plus, it’d be a chance to give her some proper gratitude for trying to help out. Sure, it hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped, really not, but that wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t have the first idea how the story ended last night. Seemed like she should at least get to know Rus probably wasn’t gonna end up with cement shoes or anything, but this time, if he was going downstairs, he’d do it properly and walk.

Decision made, Rus gathered up the clothes, folding them into a tidy bundle. They were rumpled and stank richly of sweat and sex. He blushed to think of returning them that way, but he couldn’t lie, it felt less embarrassing to bring them back to Mona than to leave it for the Dogs to find on laundry day. Worst that could happen with her was it would confirm some suspicions she already had.

He carried the bundle out of the bathroom with him, hesitating as he glanced at the bed and the lump in the covers that was his sleeping brother. This time there wouldn’t be any slipping off without a word, no more secrets, not if he could help it. He paused at the little table by the door to write his brother a note, his scribbly handwriting stating clearly that he was returning something downstairs and he’d be back soon.

That was one thing done right, at least.

That done, he slipped out the door to the hallway, closing the door hastily before the light could wake his brother. As expected, there was a Dog standing guard outside and it turned to him questioningly, its headed tilting to one side.

“excuse me, can you take me downstairs to speak with the ladies?” Rus said. Firm yet polite seemed like the best route and he held up the bundle in his arms. “i have some stuff to take back to them.” He really hoped they didn’t offer to just take it for him and not just because there was no way a Dog wouldn’t pick up on the reek. He was gonna talk to Mona one way or another, flimsy excuse or not.

The Dog said nothing, and Rus still wasn’t quite sure if that was a choice, an order, or simply a physical impossibility. It seemed to consider, then pulled out a cell phone, unhindered by its paws as it briskly tapped out a message. Whatever reply they received, they nodded and led the way down the hall to the elevator, the same one Edge brought him upstairs in, hey, he was starting to get the hang of this place.

Once the doors open again, Rus took the lead, heading to the dressing room from last night. The Dog waited at the entrance as he slipped inside, clothes in hand.

It was mostly empty now, none of the bustling and hurried dressing of the night before. The only stripper in the room was the Cat Monster…Lilith, that was her name, and her clothing was a stark contrast to their first meeting. Her revealing slip of a dress was exchanged for simple jeans and a t-shirt with ‘Bad Girl’ written in sparkly letters across the chest. She was tying the laces on her sneakers, glancing up and then again in a doubletake as she caught sight of him.

She gave him a sultry smile, pink tongue curling over her lips. “Well, hey there, sugar skull, stopping in for another visit or are you hiding out again?”

“no, um,” Rus said, awkwardly. He held up the bundle. “mona loaned me some clothes, i was just bringing them back.”

“Oh, is that all?” she yawned, showing sharp teeth, “Night shift is over, hun, Mona’s gone for the day.” She tilted her head in the direction of a large bin that was already overflowing with clothes, bra straps and stockings hanging over the sides. “You can toss it in the pile, they’ll get take care of.”

Rus wavered, torn, then decided he didn’t need to keep them as an excuse to visit with Mona. A lack of one hadn’t stopped him yet. He tossed the bundle in the pile and started back out to the hallway, then hesitated to ask, “do you know when mona will be back?”

Maybe if she worked tonight, he could slip down to see her before she started for the night.

“Sorry, hun, schedules change. If you want to wait, I can check after I get a smoke. I’m dying for a cig.” She held up a pack of cigarettes and against his will, his gaze strayed to it longingly. He hadn’t had one in days now and his nicotine craving lifted its ugly, eager head, starting a painful itch in his marrow. Damn, he hadn’t even checked his backpack when the Dog gave it to him and didn’t remember if he had a pack of smokes in it. He sure wasn’t about to ask Edge or, angel forbid, Red for one. It might be days yet before he got out to buy a pack himself.

Lilith gave him a knowing look. “Want one, sweetheart? You got that kind of look.”

The sudden flood of saliva in his mouth was embarrassing, but eh, the rules were a little different for smokers, nothing wrong with bumming the occasional cigarette so long as it didn’t become another habit, a worse one than smoking itself.

“i…yes,” Rus said gratefully, “if you don’t mind?”

“Nah, c’mon, I can share.”

She turned and walked towards the back of the room, her slender tail curling around her feet and Rus followed her to heavy door with a bright ‘Exit’ sign gleaming over it in neon red.

“I’d get a smack on the hand if they caught me sneaking out this way,” Lilith confided. Her whiskers quivered as she wrinkled her little muzzle. “But I can’t stand walking all the way ‘round for a quick smoke. I get enough exercise on the pole, you know?”

He didn’t, but he could certainly guess. He followed Lilith outside into an alleyway lined with trash cans, the sky overhead tinged grey with the coming dawn. She shook out one for herself and lit it before handed over the pack, and the first hit of nicotine melded into his magic with deep, mellow relief. Talking didn’t seem necessary, Lilith only played on her phone while both of them smoked silently through their cigarettes and when Lilith was done, she tossed her butt to pavement already littered with dozens more and shook out another before handing the pack back to him.

“May as well have another, honey,” she said, and he really shouldn’t, he had enough debt as it was, and what was that look she was giving him, something like regret…?

There was a sudden stinging at the back of his neck, coupled with hot breath, whispering low in flame-speak. “Yes, do have another. It might well be your last.”

The still smoldering butt fell from his nerveless fingers, falling into a puddle with a hiss, the dizziness already swarming over him distancing him from both his senses and his magic. He whirled clumsily around to see a fire Monster standing behind him, as tall as he was and nearly as broad as Red. The hectic flutter of his purplish flames cast the alley in disturbing shadows, devils dancing to their deaths in the slowly growing sunlight.

Blaze.

Rus took a stumbling step back, fumbling at the door, but there was no handle on the outside, only smooth metal. He looked at Lilith disbelievingly, slurring out, “wha…why?”

Tears were streaming down her pretty face, soaking into the short fur. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. He was offering money, so much money, you don’t understand what it’s like here—”

He didn’t hear whatever else she said as he was suddenly seized, pushed back against the rough bricks of the alley wall. Those deep purple flames managed to be somehow both dark and blinding, Rus squinting against that painful light, cringing away.

“don’t—” Rus stuttered out. But his hands were disobedient and strengthless, pushing helplessly against Blaze’s shirt as he stepped closer, his surprisingly heavy body pinning him against the wall. His face was too close, burning fingers painfully pinching his chin and forced Rus to lift his head, the smoky ash of his breath gusting over Rus’s face.

“Perhaps I judged too quickly on Edge’s tastes. You are rather a pretty thing, after all.”

Rus cried out, the sound muffled, choking as his mouth was taken in a rough kiss, the pained heat of flaming tongue forcing its way between his teeth. He didn’t think, could hardly manage a single idea past no. He bit down automatically, choking again as his mouth filled with bitterness reminiscent of gasoline.

He nearly fell as he was released, gasping for breath, and he only barely managed to open his sockets enough to see the blow before it struck, his vision exploding into whiteness as Blaze backhanded him and sent him to his knees amidst the filthy puddles and the rotting old cigarette butts.

Dazed, he could only watch as Lilith grabbed hold of Blaze’s arm as it rose again. “Stop it! You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“So I did,” Blaze said, and someone Rus couldn’t see was translating in a gleeful drawl, “You should have secured the same promise for yourself.”

A deafening sound rang through the alley and Rus stared dumbly as a bright blossom of red appeared on Lilith’s shirt, splatters of crimson stark against her white fur like winter berries in a snow bed. She looked down at herself in confused disbelief, touching that awful wound with trembling fingers and smearing that stain across her shirt as she slowly collapsed to the ground. Filthy water splashed, more redness tainting the puddle in a slowly spreading pool as she stared sightlessly up at the rising sun.

In that moment Rus found his voice, managing to croak out something like a hoarse scream before a rough hand slapped over his mouth, the brutal grip painful on his jaw.

“Come on, put him in the backseat. I’ll see if I can keep our guest entertained for the trip.”

He was dragged over to a waiting car, shoes scraping the pavement uselessly, barely noticing the leather seats beneath him. A door slammed and hot hands hauled him upright until he was sprawled awkwardly across an uncomfortable lap, a scorching mouth licking a painful path up his cervical vertebrae. Fingertips plucked threateningly at his clothes, but didn’t wander beneath them, and that only made Rus shudder helplessly, dizzily nauseous and numbly clouded in rising fear over what was to come.

edge. help me. It was hardly more than a distant, uncertain thought, the words never making it to his slack mouth.

tbc

[ivarthebadbitch]

Strange things can happen

Chapter 14 summary: Ragnar makes an offer.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 2153

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman @adhdnightmare @danisnotsosecret (if you would like to be tagged, let me know)

Notes: This week’s chapter is out a little early, BUT I have at last officially fallen behind, so no post for next week. Sorry for the delay, but we are actually closing in on the end here...probably going to end up around 17-18ish chapters total.

CHAPTER 14: A reasonable proposition

Under any other circumstance, Ivar would have been thrilled to be reunited with his father and Ubbe. But from one look at their faces as Aethelwulf hastily ushered them into King Ecbert’s study, it was painfully clear why they had come. As all eyes turned in his direction, it was also obvious that he was in a considerable amount of trouble.

“King Ecbert,” Ragnar acknowledged first with a nod. Then he turned to look at him. “Ivar,” he said in a tone that made his blood run cold.  

“Father,” Ivar answered, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He could feel himself shrinking under his gaze. 

Ragnar put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make him flinch. “Was there something you forgot to tell me about, boy?” he asked in Norse in a deceptively pleasant tone. “Something important with regards to your marriage?”

He looked away as shame flooded through him once again. Ragnar let out a humorless laugh and slapped him on the back. “I’ll have words with you later,” his father murmured in his ear. “There will be plenty of time for us to talk on the trip back to Kattegat.”

With that, Ragnar turned away to talk to Ecbert, and Ubbe stepped forward with a guilty look on his face. It was obvious what he had done.

“Traitor,” Ivar muttered before his brother could speak, smacking away his hand as he attempted to ruffle his hair. “Fuck you.”

Ubbe looked momentarily wounded, but then he leaned down to speak in Ivar’s ear. “I’m here to help get you out of this mess, you idiot,” he said quietly. “Just go along with what we tell you to do and we’ll all get out of this alive and you can go home.”

“Everything was going fine until you showed up,” Ivar snapped, even though that hadn’t exactly been the case for the past forty eight hours or so.

Ubbe scoffed at him and shook his head in disbelief. “What did I just say? Don’t be stupid. Father and I will sort this out.” Ivar rolled his eyes, but Ubbe was not done. “Really, Ivar? You didn’t tell Father before the marriage?”

“Shut up,” Ivar said through gritted teeth. “Looks like you were happy to tell him, though.”

“I had no choice!”

“I had no choice!” Ivar repeated in a mocking imitation. He leaned forward. “Why are you here anyway? You didn’t have to come with Father.” Then it dawned on him. “Unless…”

Now Ubbe looked especially uncomfortable. He took a step back, but not far enough to put himself beyond Ivar’s reach. Ivar immediately launched himself at Ubbe, sending both of them and the chair clattering to the floor. He managed to get in a couple good punches before Ragnar swooped in and dragged him off, smacking his head against the edge of the table with such force that he saw stars.

He gazed up at his father in a daze as Ubbe got up and brushed himself off, rubbing his jaw where Ivar had hit him. To the side, he briefly registered Ecbert and Aethelwulf staring at him with their mouths wide open before Ragnar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close enough for Ivar to feel the heat of his breath.

“Control yourself, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” Ragnar snarled. Without loosening his grip on Ivar, he looked over his shoulder at Ecbert and smiled. “King Ecbert, we have important matters to discuss, and my son Ivar is very tired. Perhaps he can take some rest in his room while we talk. He may rejoin us once he is capable of behaving himself.”

“A good plan,” Ecbert said, and motioned for the guards to come forward.

Ivar nearly blacked out as Ragnar relinquished his grip and gave him over to the guards, who draped his arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a standing position. “Father, wait, I can explain—” he pleaded, but they were already hauling him out to the hallway and back to his room with his feet dragging uselessly across the floor. 

The room was empty and dark. The guards dropped Ivar on the bed and walked out without a word, shutting the door firmly behind them. He heard the click of the key turning in the lock and his heart suddenly filled with despair. He would be sent back to Kattegat in disgrace and he would never see Aldreda again. She would marry Ubbe in his place and forget all about him. Somehow the thought of that hurt more than anything.

He knew he should be angry with her. She had told Ecbert his secret, after all, and he wasn’t about to forgive her for that. It was a betrayal, pure and simple, and at any rate, forgiveness was something Christians did. He should be furious.

He found he didn’t want to be angry with her.

Ivar sat back on the bed and exhaled slowly. He was used to being angry about all sorts of things, of course. That was the way he had always been, ever since he was a small child. It had never occurred to him that he didn’t have to be. The thought was oddly liberating. He felt the sudden urge to tell Aldreda about his revelation, until he remembered she probably didn’t want to talk to him.

He flopped on his back with a groan and stared at the ceiling. Ubbe was right—he was an idiot, though not for the reasons his brother supposed him to be. He really had made a mess of things with Aldreda. At this stage, it was hard to see a way to fix it, especially with his father now breathing down his neck along with everyone else. For the first time in weeks, he felt unbearably alone. He didn’t want to cry again as he had in front of Aldreda after she told him she asked for the annulment—he was a man, and men were supposed to be stronger than that. But if nobody was around to witness it, then maybe it was all right.

In the fading evening light, he curled up on his side and wept until he fell asleep.

                                                          **

With his wayward son momentarily dealt with, Ragnar settled in at the table with Ecbert, Aethelwulf, and Ubbe. The journey to Wessex had been full of bad weather and various mishaps, and they were fortunate to have arrived intact, if a little worse for wear. He glanced briefly at Ubbe, who was gazing around Ecbert’s study with his mouth hanging open slightly, and he cuffed him on the back of the head. “Don’t gawk,” he muttered. “Pay attention.”

Ubbe rubbed his head. “You know I don’t understand English, Father,” he said reproachfully.

“Pay attention anyway.” Ragnar leaned back in his chair and turned his focus to the Saxons with a smile. “King Ecbert. After I returned to Kattegat, certain information came to my attention about my son Ivar regarding his suitability for marriage to...to…” by the gods, what was the girl’s name? “—your granddaughter. Believe me, I proposed our agreement in good faith and had no intention to deceive you.”

Aethelwulf scoffed and turned to Ecbert, shaking his head. “My lord, you cannot take this heathen at his word.”

“Oh, can’t I? If my friend and ally Ragnar Lothbrok truly meant to deceive us, then why would he return now? Anyway, this confirms what the boy told me.” Ecbert said. He looked back at Ragnar. “Your timing is fortuitous. Just this morning, my granddaughter came to me to request an annulment, citing Ivar’s, ah, difficulty. It is a most unfortunate situation for everyone. If the marriage cannot be consummated, then it must be dissolved so Aldreda can be free to marry another, and Ivar is free to...well, free to do other things. This, sadly, also has implications for our trade agreement.”

“Of course,” Ragnar answered. He gestured to Ubbe. “Fortunately, my son Ubbe has a proposition. In order to maintain our agreement, Ubbe will marry your granddaughter and take Ivar’s place while Ivar returns with me to Kattegat. As you can see, Ubbe is handsome and in good health, and besides, he has many fine qualities.”

Aethelwulf raised an eyebrow. “Forgive my skepticism, but what fine qualities might your son possess? Because I seem to recall being told something similar the last time around.”

“Ah.” Ragnar scratched his head and regarded his son for a moment. “Well, I do not like to speak for him. In time, Ubbe will demonstrate to you his fine qualities. Of which he has many. I assure you.”

“No doubt,” Aethelwulf answered coldly, but Ecbert was already nodding and looking Ubbe up and down in approval. 

“I find this to be a reasonable proposition,” Ecbert said at last.

Aethelwulf turned and looked at him in dismay. “Father, surely you cannot agree to this so hastily,” he protested. “Ivar and Aldreda have only been married for a little while, and though I understand your concerns, they are young and there is plenty of time for them to consummate the marriage. It would be less disruptive to simply wait, rather than rushing into things again.”

Ecbert let out a low chuckle. “Why, and here I thought you despised the boy!”

Aethelwulf reddened. “I admit I did not approve of this marriage at the beginning. But I believe Ivar means to do right by my daughter, and it is only fair to give him and Aldreda that chance.”

“Ivar attempted to run away,” Ecbert reminded him. “He suborned a priest and stole your late wife’s necklace in the process. This happened two nights ago.”

“Well, yes, but…”

Ragnar stared at both of them. “I’m sorry, Ivar did what?”

Ecbert waved his hand. “Oh, it’s a long story; I’ll tell you later. The boy was not harmed, I can assure you of that.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. “But to return to your proposal, I must say that Aethelwulf has a point. The circumstances that led to my granddaughter’s marriage to your son Ivar were very rushed. I blame myself for this. We were simply carried away by our shared enthusiasm, and this regrettable situation might have been avoided if we had been more deliberate. But now we have the chance to do things properly.”

Ragnar glanced at Ubbe, who was looking back and forth between Ecbert and Aethelwulf with a confused look on his face. “They are agreeable for the most part; otherwise, we’d be sitting in chains in the dungeon right now,” he murmured in Norse to his son. He turned back to Ecbert and smiled. “Yes. Everything shall be done properly,” he agreed. “So long as it is done.”

Aethelwulf drummed his fingers on the table irritably. “I am still of the opinion that Aldreda and Ivar should have more time to work things out between them, but I know my opinion means little in this company. However, before things proceed further, I must insist that certain conditions be met.”

“Reasonable conditions, my son,” Ecbert murmured. “We are all reasonable men here.”

Aethelwulf glared at him. “Eminently reasonable. My lord king.” He turned back to Ragnar and Ubbe. “First, if your son Ubbe is to marry Aldreda, she must find him an acceptable match. I do not wish to see her dragged unwillingly to the altar for the second time in less than two months. My other condition is that I require Ubbe to be baptized before the marriage can proceed.”

Ragnar looked at Ubbe and sighed. “He says his daughter must agree to the match, and that he wishes for you to become a Christian,” he explained.

To his surprise, Ubbe shrugged. “That is an understandable request,” he said. “Tell them I am willing to do it.”

“You’d renounce the gods?” Ragnar asked. “Some might call you a traitor. You’ll never be allowed to return to Kattegat.”

“Well, you were baptized before, weren’t you? The gods haven’t struck you down yet. Anyway, we must demonstrate to the Saxons that we are serious about the alliance.”

Ragnar gave a little sarcastic laugh. “Ah, poor Ubbe. Sacrificing yourself in order to marry a princess.”

That earned him a look of irritation from his son. “Just tell them, Father. We came all this way for a reason. Let’s not throw this opportunity away.”

“As you wish.” He turned to Ecbert and Aethelwulf. “My son agrees.”

Aethelwulf stared at him in dismay. “He...he agrees?”

The stunned look on Aethelwulf’s face almost made the entire trip worth it. Ragnar grinned. “Wonderful. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, perhaps you might introduce Ubbe to your daughter? I’d like to discuss our trade agreement with my good friend and ally King Ecbert. There are a few details I wish to refine…”

[scribeofred]

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

 1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1.     118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2.     94 kudos on Reflection

3.     91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

 I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

[fanatic-author]

Murder Is Not On The Agenda

Rating: T (swearing) Warnings: swearing Category: Gen Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi & Shigaraki & Toga Language: English Words: 2,162 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Three villains go on an ice cream run in the middle of the night and absolutely nothing goes wrong. Yeah, right.

Read it here on AO3!

“Tomura, I think I’m dying.” Toga moaned where she lay spread out on the couch.  

“Shut the fuck up.” he replied, not even bothering to look at her. He had the electric fan, and everyone else could suck it.

“Tomura.” Dabi whined from his spot on the floor.

“What.”

“I think I’m dying.”  

“Sucks.”

The fact of the matter was, it was nearly 30 degrees and almost 11 o clock at night, which meant it was  hot  with no sign of cooling off anytime soon. And with 7 people sharing a space, it was getting unbearable.

“Shiggy, give me the fan. Kurogiri tell Shiggy it’s my turn with the fan!”

“Eat my ass, bitch.”

Compress was fanning himself with his mask; trench coat, top hat, and even balaclava removed in the intense heat. Spinner was no better, elaborate stain costume stashed somewhere not on his body in favor of as little clothing as possible. When questioned about why a  reptile  which was typically cold blooded had to  cool off , they were met with double fingers and a grumbled “I’m human underneath the scales.”  

The one probably faring the worst of all of them was Twice. He refused to take off his mask, and as such was gently being prodded by Kurogiri to periodically suck on ice cubes. The heat didn’t seem to have much an effect on the warper. Perks of being a living cloud, one supposed.  

“Shiggy do somethiiiiiiiiing.” Toga continued whining, one hand fanning herself and the other laying listlessly off the couch.  

“Do something? You want me to do something!? I don’t control the weather Toga! I don’t control the thermostat, or the pressure systems, or the tilt of the earth this time of the year!” he shouted.

“But you can control the tilt the rest of the year?” Dabi quipped, still lying vulnerable on the floor.  

This vulnerability was immediately exploited by Tomura who launched himself across the room to body slam Dabi, a surprised and breathless “OOF” leaving him. The two of them began rolling around the floor, slapping and pinching the other, but they quickly fell apart in the overwhelming heat.  

“I think I would give my left nut for that Todoroki kid’s ice quirk right about now.” Spinner said from his spot near the window, raising many questions regarding reptiles and nuts no one wanted to ask.  

Dabi twitched but it was Toga who said “Man, I bet he can make ice cream whenever he wants!”  

“That sounds like a hassle.” replied Spinner.

“What?”

“Making ice cream. Way easier to go buy some.”  

“How?”  

Dabi, Tomura, and Spinner all simultaneously replied “Money can be exchanged for goods and services.” Compress pinched his nose. Twice groaned in overheating agony.  

“Maybe you should participate in our stimulating economy” Kurogiri said “and fetch the rest of us some ice cream.”

“You don’t even feel the heat.” retorted Tomura, but Toga and Dabi had already gotten to their feet, and compress was rifling through his wallet for what bills he had on hand.  

“Get me an ice cream, none of that popsicle crap.” He said, giving Tomura the cash.  

“Screw you.”

In the end it was only Tomura, Dabi, and Toga going because Twice was still too hot, Spinner argued he’d attract too much attention, and Compress was paying. Kurogiri made them walk because he was an ass, according to Tomura.  

“We would attract so much attention if we warped to the 7-11 in the middle of the night.” Dabi pointed out “Like, they would call All Might out of retirement just to beat our ass.”  

“I’d take him.” Tomura deadpanned.  

“If you saw All Might’s emaciated form, you’d piss your pants running.”  

It had been like this for the last fifteen minutes they’d spent walking in the muggy heat to nearest 24-hour convenience store, which when you were hiding from any and all levels of law enforcement, was not anywhere near where they lived. Whenever the conversation seemed to slow down, Toga interjected with just enough barb to get the argument rolling again.  

“Fuck, marry, kill: All Might, Endeavor, Hawks”  

“Kill all 3.” Tomura replied.  

Toga stuck out her tongue at him “You’re no fun. Dabi?”

“Kill Endeavor, fuck Hawks, marry All Might. He’d treat me right.”  

Toga swooned “Oh he would, wouldn’t he? Always coughing up blood...”  

Tomura murmured “freak” under his breath, with only a teaspoon of malice. The three of them entered 7-11, identities hidden from the cameras (and prone to panicking cashiers) under face masks.

“Cuz this isn’t suspicious as all hell” Dabi muttered under his breath “Spinner should have had to come.”  

The argument had been made that either spinner should have to come or Dabi should be allowed to stay, but Kurogiri insisted on adult supervision for the other 2, no matter Tomura was probably the oldest of the three of them, but he didn’t count because he was Tomura. Dabi had that kind of face that one would assume is older than it actually was, probably because of the horrific scar tissue.  

The three of them gathered around the cooler, bills in hand, staring down the various cool treats.  

“This is all gonna be melted by the time we get back anyway.” Toga pointed out.  

Tomura said “Well the rest of them should have thought of that before giving us their money. Just grab whatever you want.” He proceeded to do so, plucking ice cream cones and popsicles from their icy shelves. Dabi wandered over to the slushy machine.  

Toga grabbed a misshapen SpongeBob popsicle for herself, Tomura despite knowing it was a waste had grabbed three ice creams and one popsicle (for compress), Dabi was currently filling an extra-large slushy. None of the 3 paid particularly close attention to the overhead door bell jingling.  

They  did  however, begin paying attention at the obnoxious voices that had made their way inside.  

“Alright! Uraraka you are on candy duty, Kirishima! Retrieve the slushies! Midoriya, here is the ice cream list, and I shall get chips! Does everyone else have their lists? Reconvene here once you have gotten everything, or close alternatives if the first option is not available!”  

There were various sounds of assent and agreement, which were largely missed by the two villains, too busy shitting their pants.  

“What? How?” Toga whispered, already dropped to a crouch behind the cooler.  

“I don’t know! Shut up!” Tomura hissed back, crouched behind Toga., the various treats shoved in his pockets. He had no qualms using her as a meat shield if spotted.

“Where’s Dabi?”

“He went to the slushy machine.”  

They both peered around the cooler to look where Dabi had gone. Where’d he’d standing instead sat a lone, spilt, extra-large slushy.  

“Oh my god they killed Dabi.” Toga whispered.  

Tomura nodded in agreement “Well, let’s cut our losses and get out of here.”  

“Man, fuck you guys.”  

Both Tomura and Toga shrieked as Dabi came up behind them, and then immediately shushed the other. Unfortunately for the three villains hiding behind an ice cream cooler in a 7-11 in the middle of the night, stealth was not their forte. Quite frankly, not much was.  

A nearby voice, rapidly getting louder, asked “Did you guys hear that?”  

Neither of the three villains waited for their nemesis, one Midoriya Izuku aka the second coming of All Might himself to find them. Toga dashed to hide behind the shelves of snacks in the center of the store. Tomura and Dabi weighed their options, but the prospect of getting blown through a wall at Mach 3 had them quickly following.  

Toga stood crouched in the beef jerky aisle, with the sound of The Uglier Sonic only one aisle over.

“We. Need. To. Get. Out. Of. Here.” Tomura bit, out as quietly as possible.  

“I vote we use Toga as bait.”  

“ Hey!”  

Tomura shushed them both, all three of them listening to see if their conversation had attracted any unwanted attention.  

“... and 3 bags of sour cream and onion, one of ketchup, and one of... Excuse me, Midoriya? Do you happen to know of the flavor “Chungus?” Kaminari requested a big bag of... why are you laughing?”  

Dabi looked like he was going to have a stroke trying to contain his laughter.  

“I love those stupid kids.” he said.  

“Yeah, that’s why we’re trying to kill them.” Toga agreed.  

Dabi looked to Tomura “So what’s the plan, boss? Light, and run?”  

He shook his head “No, no way. I’m not dealing with these snot-nosed brats today. I just want to go home, and bitch about the heat some more. Murder was not, and is still not, on the agenda.”  

Dabi carefully extinguished the blue flame in his hand “Ok, but we still need a way out.”  

“Alright, boy wonder is at the ice cream cooler, Dwayne Johnson is at the slushy machine, Glinda is grabbing candy 3 aisles over, and we’re less than 2 feet from a speeding bullet. Anything in our way between us and the door?”  

“No.” Dabi answered, right as Toga said “Yes.”  

“What?”  

Wordlessly she pointed, and there standing just outside the door was the worst one yet. Their homeroom teacher. Of course the kids couldn’t just go anywhere they liked off campus in the middle of the night, they had to be accompanied. He was probably making sure no one got in the store to hurt them.  

“If this was an assassination attempt, we’d be killing it right now.” Dabi said.  

Toga said “Ha. Pun.”  

Tomura wanted to pull his hair out “We’re never this successful when we’re actually trying, what gives?”  

The three of them put their heads together.  

“Think they’ll give me a nicer cell if I sell you two out?” Dabi had a hand on his chin in contemplation.

Tomura hit him.  

“I think stabbing is a viable solution.”

“I think one or more heroes is going to be scraping you off their knuckles if you try.”

“What if we got you to a wall? Make us a hole, then make a run for it?”  

Tomura nodded “I could do it.”  

The three of them began creeping towards the far end of the aisle, closest to an outer wall, when a large yelp, and a crashing sound made the three of them jump. Toga actually startled so hard she hit the shelf behind her, making a frankly impressive amount of noise considering. Thankfully it was drowned out by the sounds of alarm coming from the other occupants of the store.  

“Ow...”  

“Kirishima! are you alright?”  

“Yeah, I slipped in some...”  

“I’m coming!”  

Then there was the familiar sound of engines revving, and then a  very  impressive crashing sound, followed by two pained cries this time.  

“Dude, why?” one groaned.  

“I apologize, I did not see the slushy on the ground.” The other moaned.  

The front door bell chimed rather aggressively as the front door slammed open, a very menacing aura entering that had each person in that store reconsidering every decision that brought them there in that moment.  

“What. Is. Going. On. Here?” A gruff voice asked, belonging none other than to one pissed off Eraserhead, a voice every villain in the league was familiar with by this point. It usually precluded getting your ass kicked.

All the students gathered around their fallen friends and began clamoring to explain themselves at once, voices shouting and pointing out facts and telling wildly outlandish tales of sabotage slushies on the ground. The volume of the group rose and rose as each member tried to talk over the other.  

“Well that was easy. See ya, suckers.” Dabi said, dashing from his point of cover and out the door.  

Toga quickly followed, and Tomura hesitated but as the group remained quite thoroughly distracted, he soon followed as well. No one inside noticed the three villains taking off in to the night.  

“Holy shit!” Toga laughed outrageously, now several blocks from the convenience store, and lavishing in her nearly lost freedom. She jumped off the sidewalk, running around with her arms spread in malicious joy.  

“Just so you guys know, I wouldn’t have actually sold you out for a better cell. Just so we’re clear.”  

“Shut up while you’re ahead, Dabi”

Toga howled in joy “and I didn’t even have to pay for my ice cream!” She pulled out her SpongeBob popsicle, ripping the wrapper off to expose the misshapen face that was supposedly a cartoon character. She plopped it in her mouth with a satisfied hum.  

“Oh my god.” Tomura stuck his own hands in his pockets, pulling out the treats he’d shoved in there when this all began.  

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dabi plucked one of the packaged ice cream cones from his hand. Tomura didn’t even fight him for it, ripping open his own ice cream treat and digging in.  

He couldn’t help chuckling “Those heroes helped us rob a convenience store.”  

Dabi nodded “This is the best day of my life.”  

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color. 

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain. 

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them. 

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself. 

Okay. 

Alright. 

No distractions. 

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal. 

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way. 

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. 

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them. 

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again. 

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two. 

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too. 

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat. 

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?” 

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times. 

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us. 

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second. 

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one. 

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?” 

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents. 

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing. 

Flash nodded. 

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started. 

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god. 

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp. 

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake. 

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition. 

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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[authenticcadence18]

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” Ch. 8

HIIII GUYS!!!!! It's been awhile, huh? The past few weeks have been verrry busy, lol, and I appreciate your patience more than you know!!!!!! Thanks again for all the kind words/encouragement, it means the world to me!!! Getting to share this story with you is truly a joy 🥰

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

AO3

...

For I can’t help…

...

“Alright, everyone!” Ms. Chase announced. “Now that I’ve got all your projects, here’s how the rest of the week is going to work. Tomorrow, we’ll meet in the auditorium to hear those of you who are singing live.”

A certain pair of students fidgeted in their seats.

Tomorrow?

“There will be microphones and speakers provided for you. You just need to bring any instruments and/or tracks you need for your performance.”

Did she say tomorrow??

“The rest of you will present on Wednesday and Thursday in the classroom!”

….she said tomorrow.

Isabella and Phineas exchanged a quick glance before darting their gazes in opposite directions and wincing.

They’d known they would have to present their song sometime this week but… TOMORROW???

“Alright, I’m going to pass out a study guide for the final coming up in a couple of weeks. You have the rest of class to work on it with your partners! We’ll start going over it on Friday.”

A lull of chatter started up as Ms. Chase began making her way around the classroom.

Phineas took a deep breath and dared another glance at Isabella. “Soooo….I guess we’re singing tomorrow, huh?” he voiced, rubbing the back of his neck.

Isabella managed a strained smile. “...I guess so. Tomorrow…that’s pretty soon, huh? I kind of thought we’d have more time to prepare…”

“I mean, we sounded great when we recorded it!” Phineas pointed out quickly. “There’s no reason to worry...it’ll go fine.”

He didn’t sound particularly convinced.

“For sure!” Isabella replied. “No reason to worry…..”

She didn’t sound particularly convinced either.

“...do you think we need to practice again?” Phineas asked hesitantly.

(He wasn’t sure he’d survive another run-through of the song in the recording studio, but he was willing to attempt it if Isabella wanted to.)

“NO!!!!” Isabella shot back. She cringed. “I...I mean….I don’t want us to psyche ourselves out, you know? Not that I don’t want to sing with you, I do, singing together is fun, but….we don’t want to overdo it.”

(She wasn’t sure she’d survive another run-through of the song in the recording studio, but she didn’t want Phineas to think she didn’t want to sing with him at all!)

Their exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Ms. Chase.

“Here y’all go!” She placed two packets on the table with a smile. “I listened to your recording, by the way. It sounded AMAZING!! You two recorded all those instruments yourselves, right?”

Isabella and Phineas looked at one another...and despite the worries troubling them, they couldn’t help but smile proudly.

“We sure did!” Phineas replied. “That beautiful cello line was all Isabella!!”

“And the electric guitar was all Phineas!!” Isabella threw in.

“Wow! Way to go above and beyond!!!” Ms. Chase replied. “I’m so proud of you two! And very impressed! Your voices compliment one another well.”

“Well, we’ve been singing together for a long time,” Phineas replied knowingly, and Isabella chuckled.

“It shows!!” Ms. Chase replied. “It’s really lucky that you two happened to be paired together, huh?” As she left them and started off towards the next table, she called out, “And I loved how intentional both of you were when you sang. It sounded like you meant every word!”

Isabella and Phineas blushed and avoided making eye-contact with one another for a bit after that.

Ms. Chase was right, of course. They HAD meant every word.

But they didn’t really want to talk about that.

...

Isabella and Phineas spent the rest of class filling out their study guides and trying to avoid dwelling on tomorrow.

When the bell finally rang, Isabella’s heart practically leapt out of her chest.

She’d been dreading the end of class for a number of reasons...but she forced herself to push through the dread.

“Phineas?” she said as they stood. “Do you have any meetings after school today?”

Phineas shook his head. “Nope, but Ferb does. Do you?”

“No, I just have work at 6:30.” Isabella replied. She bit her lip as she swung her backpack unto her shoulders.

Last Friday, it would have been easy to voice the question on the tip of her tongue...but everything was a bit more difficult now.

Finally, she managed to articulate, “So...we’re going to walk home together, right?”

Just as walking to school together had become routine, walking home from school together had become routine as well, since Isabella and Phineas typically needed to BE together to work on their project anyway.

Even though the project was winding to a finish now, Isabella still wanted to walk home with him.

Phineas grinned at her. “Of course we are!!!” He paused before adding, “I mean, as long as you want to.”

(Isabella didn’t know it, but he’d been fretting over how to ask her the same question for the entirety of class.)

“I definitely want to!!” Isabella replied quickly.

And then she winced...had she sounded too eager there??

...Phineas was still smiling at her so she supposed she hadn’t freaked him out.

“Uh, I’ll meet you outside after school then.”

“Sounds great! I’ll see you then!”

The two parted ways with small smiles on their faces. Sure, things were still a LITTLE awkward between them, but they were still friends who could walk home from school together.

That, at least, hadn’t changed.

...

The walk home from school was far less animated than the walk to school had been. In the morning, Isabella and Phineas had been eager to fill the weekend-long silence looming over them by chatting about whatever they could. Now, though, they had things to think about.

Such as singing together in less than 24 hours for the first time since Saturday.

And wondering whether or not it would be awkward.

This potential awkwardness wasn’t what really troubled them though.

(Because, really, could anything be more awkward than Saturday? They’d emerged from that as friends, so they could handle singing in front of their classmates.)

No, the thought that truly troubled them as they walked was...what happened after tomorrow?

What happened when the project was officially over and their concrete excuse to spend time together vanished?

Would they go back to how things were before? Back to rushed hellos and awkward smiles and the occasional wave? Back to still being best friends in theory but rarely seeing one another outside of school?

Because SURE they’d vowed to continue hanging out from now on in the Football X7 stadium on Friday. But that was before Saturday, and the almost kiss, and the horrified looks, and the worries and fears that resulted from that.

Yes they were still friends but...were things different now?

Phineas was all too aware of the way Isabella’s hand dangled at her side as they walked. His own hand swung just inches away, tantalizingly close and yet leagues away just the same.

He longed to brush his fingers against hers, to take her hand with the same ease she’d taken his with on Saturday, with the same ease he’d had before Saturday, with the same ease they’d had as kids.

But now there was a hesitance there, an intangible barrier Phineas didn’t know how to cross.

Holding Isabella’s hand would undoubtedly lead to questions about why he wanted to do so at all because it would resurface memories of the LAST time they’d held hands...and Phineas certainly wasn’t prepared to answer those questions.

So he just walked and tried to focus on how happy he was to be with Isabella at all.

(Admittedly, this wasn’t too difficult. Phineas didn’t need to hold Isabella’s hand to feel giddy butterflies in his stomach. Just walking with her was more than enough!)

...

Isabella and Phineas hesitated when they reached the sidewalk in front of the Flynn-Fletcher house.

They no longer had an essay to write or a song to record, no longer had a definitive reason to enter one of their houses together instead of parting ways.

But...they didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

Isabella thought of an excuse not to first.

“Um...Phineas?”

“Yes?”

“Would you maybe want to come over and do homework for a bit? The calculus assignment Ms. Lloyd gave us is pretty long, and during my class, she said she’d go over one of the harder problems with us but ran out of time...I thought we could help each other with it.”

Phineas’s face lit up. “Sure!!” he agreed. “And she went over that problem during my class period, it wasn’t too bad. I’d be happy to help you with it.”

“Awesome!!!” Isabella replied.

They smiled at one another before setting off across the street.

...

“Oh, wait, let me check the mail before we go inside.”

Isabella slowed to a halt in front of her mailbox and opened it up. She removed a large envelope from inside and squinted at the return address for a second before grinning broadly.

“Aww, my Nana sent me something!!” she exclaimed brightly.

“That’s so sweet!!!” Phineas replied, admiring the envelope over her shoulder. “And wow, that’s a big envelope! What do you think’s inside?”

“I baked cookies with her and some of the residents at the Danville Senior Center last week,” Isabella said. “Maybe some of them wrote to say thank you!! I’ll have to open this later.” She shut the mailbox and started walking again. “First, we should get started on that calculus homework.”

“Right! Lead the way!!”

...

“OK...twelve problems down, twelve to go. We’re halfway there!”

The calculus assignment was a bit tedious, but Isabella and Phineas didn’t really mind. Right now, it was providing them with the perfect excuse to spend time together...and thus, they wouldn’t have wanted to be doing anything else.

“I’m going to get a snack,” Isabella announced. (She hadn’t eaten since 11:30 and they were halfway done with the assignment, so a snack break was in order.) “You want anything?”

“Sure!” Phineas replied. “I’ll eat whatever you want to eat.”

After a second, he made a face and added, “...anything but zucchini.”

Isabella rolled her eyes and grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind!” she assured him with a chuckle.

Phineas laughed with her. “And I’ll get a head-start on the next problem!”

“Sounds good!”

As Isabella walked towards the pantry, she caught sight of the envelope from her Nana lying on the kitchen counter. She picked it up and smiled, the quest for snacks momentarily forgotten.

Her head had been spinning with numbers (and just spinning in general because she’d been pondering those numbers with Phineas) for the past 45 minutes...perhaps reading a letter or two would help wind her brain down.

The envelope contained a note and a sealed letter. Isabella removed the note first and smiled as she began to read her Nana’s tidy cursive.

“Dear Isabella,

I hope you’re well! I had so much fun visiting with you last week: everyone enjoyed the cookies we made. You get more and more beautiful every time I see you! I’m so proud of you and the young woman you’ve become.”

Isabella smiled and chuckled fondly. She could practically hear her Nana reading the note to her!

“I am writing because a letter you wrote a long time ago was delivered to the senior citizen center yesterday. I suppose it got lost in the mail after you sent it all those years ago and they finally sent it back to its return address! I didn’t read your letter, don’t worry, but I remember what you wrote it about!”

The smile on Isabella’s face morphed into a perplexed frown.

A letter? That she’d written? Being returned to the senior citizen center?

...she’d only ever sent one letter from the senior citizen center.

…..no way.

Isabella set the note down and peeked into the envelope again, eyes suddenly quite wide...and her breath caught as she realized the sealed letter within was very pink and addressed in a very familiar hand to one Phineas Flynn.  

……..no WAY.

She frantically grasped for the note to finish reading it.

“It seems like only yesterday you sent this letter to your friend Phineas to express your feelings to him when you were younger! I suppose he’s as grown-up as you are now, my how time flies!

“I thought you would like to have the letter as a memory. And, if you still like Phineas and haven’t told him, maybe you can give it to him! (I assume he never got to read it). He’s such a nice boy, and I’m sure he’d be happy to know a girl as wonderful as you likes him so much. (But if you don’t want to tell him, I understand! And I can keep your secret.)

“I love you so much, sweetheart! Perhaps you can write me back sometime soon, or we can chat on the phone or visit in person again. I’d love to hear what you do with the letter!

“Love and hugs,

“Nana”

Isabella let the note flutter unto the counter.

“.... oh my gosh …”

She dared a glance at Phineas, who was fortunately far too engrossed in the calculus assignment to notice the bright red blush sprawled over her face. Slowly, she reached inside the large envelope and pulled out the pink letter with trembling hands.

The edges of the smaller envelope were a little faded and the paper a bit wrinkled, but that was to be expected after nearly a decade of wasting away somewhere in the post office. The handwriting on the back was assuredly hers.

“...... oh my GOSH.”

Memories swirled around Isabella, memories of writing and sending a love letter to Phineas when they were kids with the encouragement of her Nana...of getting cold feet and spending the afternoon trying to get it back with the Fireside Girls before it reached him...of failing in their mission and watching helplessly as Phineas opened the letter and excitedly began to read it...of accepting that he was finally going to learn how she really felt...and of witnessing him inexplicably hand the letter back to the mail carrier and start moving backwards for no discernible reason without finishing it.

(That last part had always perplexed Isabella, but stranger things had happened in Danville that summer. In the grand scheme of things, it had been a typical occurrence.)

Isabella gawked at the pink envelope, still unable to fathom that she was actually holding it even though she’d been staring at it for a good thirty seconds now.

Usually, when something disappeared in Danville (with the exception of Perry and Pinky, of course), it disappeared for good.

But somehow, inexplicably, this letter...oh goodness, the CRUMB CAKE letter...was back in her life.

(She shuddered briefly as she considered what would have happened if the letter had been delivered directly to Phineas instead of the senior citizen center.)

Isabella looked at Phineas again. Her, in the words of her younger self, “little crumb cake.” He was still scribbling away at the calculus assignment, eyebrows furrowed adorably and a determined glint in his eyes.

Her heart fluttered a bit.

(Because he really was just, SO adorable. How could one person be that adorable?? It wasn’t fair.)

For a moment, a SINGLE moment, Isabella’s better judgement faltered, and she yearned to spill her feelings. To come clean. To finally give Phineas the letter, no matter how embarrassing her ten-year-old self’s prose was.

And then she shook her head and quickly stuffed the letter back inside the larger envelope.

She couldn’t confess to him. No way. Not after Saturday.

...

Phineas pumped his fist in the air when he finished working through the next problem. Now that it was done, he allowed his mind to wander...and he realized Isabella had been gone from the table for longer than it should’ve taken to find a snack. He looked up and found her standing at the kitchen counter and….looking at him in a bit of a daze.

He blushed a little.

“Isabella?” he called out. “You okay?”

Isabella flinched as she regained her bearings. “Yes!!!!!!” Her hands darted about for a second. “Just! Uh! Trying to decide what snack to get us.”

“I can help!” Phineas stood from the table and approached her. He happened to glance down at the counter as he walked by and spotted the now-opened envelope from Nana Shapiro. “Oh, did you open this? What was inside? What did Nana Shapiro say?”

“N-NOTHING!!!!” Isabella snatched the envelope away and clutched it tightly to her chest. “I mean! Uh! It was just family stuff, you know? Nothing important. Just...a couple of letters. From her. Just regular ol’ letters. Yeah.”

Phineas smiled. “I always love getting letters from my grandparents! It was sweet of her to write to you. Now, let’s see…”

He stepped past her and opened the pantry.

Isabella surreptitiously slid the envelope in a drawer while Phineas’s back was turned.

She needed to get it out of sight before he saw it again.

And before he did something else that was adorable and she was tempted to give him the letter again.

...

Eventually, Isabella and Phineas finished their calculus assignment.

They were glad to be finished, of course...but also a little uneasy about it. What were they supposed to do now?

Isabella glanced at the clock after placing her pencil down and was spared from answering this question. “Oh! I have work in 45 minutes! I need to start getting ready.”

“Oh!” Phineas quickly stood up and started packing his homework away. “I forgot you had work, sorry about that. I guess...I’ll get going then. Unless you need any help with anything!”

“Oh no, I’m fine!” Isabella insisted. “I just need to eat something and get changed. Thanks though!”

“Of course! Well...I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have fun at work!”

“I’ll try! And yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Isabella trailed behind Phineas at a respectful distance as he made his exit, lingering in the doorframe and watching somewhat glumly as he waved and started off down the walkway.

Each step he took away from her made her heart ache a little more.

Logically, Isabella knew Phineas had to leave because SHE had to leave for Nosh Olé in a bit anyway...but she couldn’t help but wonder what they would have done if she’d been free for the night.  

Would she have thought of another excuse to keep spending time with him? Or would things have gotten awkward without the calculus assignment to work on?

...things probably would have gotten awkward.

Perhaps this was for the best.

...wait...was Phineas stopping? Why was he stopping?

Phineas hesitated before he reached the street.

This time tomorrow, he and Isabella would be finished with their project.

Perhaps there would still be calculus assignments to work on together after that, but...the project had brought them together again.

He was afraid for it to be over.

Well...he was really afraid of his and Isabella’s friendship fizzling out due to it being over.

He slowly turned back around.

“....Isabella?”

Isabella took a few steps outside to meet him. “Yes, Phineas? Is something wrong?”

Phineas took a deep breath as they met in the middle of the sidewalk and Isabella gazed up at him inquisitively (and maybe he blushed again because GOSH she was so CUTE when she looked at him like that).

He thought back to his conversation with Ferb, about how it was okay to be afraid and how Isabella was worth fighting for.

He wanted to keep spending time with her after tomorrow...and he wanted to see if she felt the same way.

“....I just...wanted to ask….we ARE going to keep hanging out after tomorrow….right?”

Phineas rubbed the back of his neck before continuing.

“It’s just…..if it weren’t for the song project, I’m not sure we would’ve started hanging out again at all, and I really, REALLY missed you and spending time with you and getting to do that again has been, just, amazing...and I KNOW we said we’d keep hanging out from now on at the Football X7 game, but...now that our project is basically over, I’m just...a little worried we’re going to drift apart again. I know that might sound silly, but….it’s been bugging me ever since we found out we’re singing tomorrow...and you’re my best friend so I figured I could be honest with you about it. If...if you don’t want to hang out with me as much after tomorrow, that’s fine, but...I guess...I just wanted to tell you I definitely want to keep hanging out with you.”

There. He’d gotten the words out. That hadn’t been too bad. Perhaps he’d rambled on for longer than he’d intended to, but he'd managed to tell Isabella he wanted to spend time with her without revealing he was in love with her. That in of itself was a victory in his book.

“Oh, Phineas….”

Isabella took a step closer, heart twisting painfully in her chest. She knew SHE was the reason she and Phineas had drifted apart, and hearing him speak about it with such a pained look in his eyes made her feel awful.

And yet...even though they hurt, his words were a relief to hear all the same.

Because Phineas was as worried about their friendship fraying as she was.

Isabella reached out and took Phineas’s hands in hers. She gave them a reassuring squeeze and gazed at him gently.

The feeling of Isabella’s fingers interlaced with his and the warmth in her eyes sent what felt like eight million gigawatts of energy dancing throughout Phineas’s body.

They hadn’t been this close—in fact, they hadn’t touched at all—since Saturday. Phineas had gone out of his way to NOT touch Isabella today, not even on accident, because he didn’t want to remind her of the recording studio and make her uncomfortable.

But...she’d reached out for him. She didn’t mind holding his hands and standing close to him, and Phineas’s heart rate was accelerating by the second because the last time she’d looked at him like that, he’d almost kissed her and now he really, REALLY wished he could kiss her and—

And Isabella was probably about to answer his question. He needed to stay focused.

A smidge of panic caught in Isabella’s gut because this suddenly felt all too familiar to Saturday. She and Phineas were holding hands, and looking at each other, and his eyes were wide and he seemed...well, not exactly horrified but maybe a little shocked.

She needed to start talking before she scared him away.

“Phineas…” Isabella began. “I SO want to keep hanging out with you. I...I really missed spending time with you too, and I’m sorry we ever drifted apart. I’m never going to let that happen again. I promise. No matter what.”

Phineas’s breath hitched.

“....no matter what?” he whispered.

Isabella nodded determinedly and repeated, “No matter what.”

For a moment, they stood together with hands entwined, finally knowing how desperately they both wanted to maintain their friendship...

...no matter what.

Phineas let go first, but he didn’t walk away. He kept his gaze fixed on Isabella, an emotion she couldn’t quite place shining in his eyes. He suddenly seemed on the edge of his seat, poised on the tips of his toes, bristling with potential energy.

And then he choked, “....I’m so glad we’re friends...” and swept her into a tight hug that nearly took her breath away.

Isabella’s heart did a backflip. Two backflips. Three.

Phineas was still undoubtedly her best friend. And he still wanted to hug her and be close to her.

Warmth flooded through her, like rays of sunlight bursting through clouds after a storm.

She hadn’t scared him away at all.

“.....believe me, I’m the one who’s glad….” she whispered into his shoulder.

...

If the hug Phineas and Isabella shared the day they started their project went on for a bit longer than one might have considered typical of two friends, the one they were sharing now, on the eve of its completion, went on for FAR longer than one might have considered typical of two friends.

But, then again, Isabella and Phineas weren’t exactly typical friends.

And they needed this. Every second they spent nestled in one-another’s arms was second spent reaffirming their friendship, reminding one another how much they cared, and letting each other know that Saturday hadn’t ruined anything.

(Perhaps they’d never understand exactly what happened on Saturday. But it didn’t really matter...because now they knew their friendship was as steadfast as it had been when they were kids.)

Phineas and Isabella could’ve stayed like that, embracing and smiling and maybe tearing up just a little, forever. But, eventually, they slowly leaned apart and took a step or two back.

They smiled brightly at one another, both a little misty-eyed...and for a moment, the spark of clarity that had emerged between them in the recording studio flickered in the air.

“.....Isabella?”

“...yes, Phineas?

And then the moment passed.

“I….....I guess you have work soon, huh?”

“Oh...oh! I do, you’re right! I really should start getting ready, huh?”

Isabella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and grinned.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

She’d spoken the same words to Phineas only minutes ago. But they carried a different meaning now.

Now , tomorrow didn’t just refer to Tuesday morning and their performance. It referred to all the tomorrows after that, to all the days they wanted to spend together, to the friendship they were both dedicated to.

Phineas smiled back as he briefly took her hand—HE TOOK HER HAND!!!! HE COULD DO THAT AGAIN!!!!!—and replied, “I can’t wait.”

And then they waved and parted ways, both feeling better than they had in a long time.

...

Ferb looked up and smiled cheekily from his spot at the kitchen table when Phineas entered through the door. “So how did your homework date go?” he asked.

Phineas didn’t blush or make a face at Ferb's teasing like he normally would have. Rather, he simply sat opposite his brother and gazed down at his hands reverently.

He could almost still feel Isabella holding them...could almost still feel her holding him.

“.......I want to tell her……” Phineas whispered, almost more to himself than Ferb.

Ferb’s eyes widened. “You want to tell her what?” he asked.

Phineas’s response was barely audible...but it was still loud enough to practically knock Ferb out of his chair.

“.....that I love her…..”

...

Isabella’s shift at Nosh Olé ambled by in a slow blur that night. She was there, cleaning and chatting with customers and carrying food….but, she wasn’t REALLY there.

All she could think about was Phineas. And how they’d hugged. And how he’d missed spending time with her throughout high school and how sad he’d sounded when talking about it and how she KNEW the only reason they’d drifted apart was because she cared about him so, so much.

“Phineas deserves to know why I distanced herself from him….” she thought as she methodically scrubbed a wet cloth over an empty table. “He deserves to know I just wanted to get over him so I could keep being his friend and that I never meant for us to drift so far apart and that I never stopped caring about him….”

Isabella’s momentum gradually slowed to a halt as the logical conclusion to these musings finally manifested within her head.

Her eyes widened.

“...he deserves to know I love him. I...want to tell him I love him."

No, that wasn’t quite right. Isabella had wanted to tell Phineas she loved him since they were kids. That hadn’t changed.

This conviction felt different, more urgent.

“...I NEED to tell him I love him.”

...

Ferb didn’t accompany his brother out the door the next morning. Instead, he watched from his bedroom window as Phineas and Isabella met on the sidewalk and exchanged a few words before starting in the direction of Danville High.

“...today could be the day, Perry!” Ferb mused to the platypus curled up on his bed. “Do you think they’ll finally figure it out?”

Perry let out an amused chatter in response.

(Ferb couldn’t have known it was an amused chatter, of course. Just as he couldn’t have known Perry had first-hand knowledge of just how much Isabella and Phineas liked each other. But he acknowledged Perry’s response anyway.)

“I hope so too,” Ferb replied matter-of-factly. He leaned over to pat Perry on the head and chuckled.  “I’m running out of ways to tease them without flat-out giving their feelings away.”

...

“Hi, Isabella!!!”

“Hey, Phineas!!!!”

Isabella and Phineas both grinned broadly as they met on the sidewalk.

“Today’s the day!! Are you ready?” Phineas asked.

“I sure am!!!” Isabella replied. “Are you?”

“Definitely!!” Phineas exclaimed. “We’re going to sound amazing!”

“Yes, yes we are!!!” Isabella agreed. She glanced around a bit before asking, “Hey...where’s Ferb? Did he leave one of his textbooks inside again?”

“Oh!” Phineas scratched his ear, and his face reddened a bit. “Uh...yeah, I think he did. He said we could start walking without him.”

(He knew Ferb had not, in fact, forgotten a textbook.)

“Alright!” Isabella linked her arm through his and grinned. “Let’s go then!”

(She suspected Ferb hadn’t forgotten a textbook at all...and though she enjoyed spending time with him, she certainly wasn’t going to complain about his absence right now.)

Phineas grinned back as they started walking. This morning already felt LEAGUES different than yesterday morning had (and not just because today, Isabella’s elbow brushed against his side and made his heart leap with every few steps they took). Thanks to yesterday, to his honesty with her, and their hug, the awkwardness of the past few days was finally gone.

“Enjoy it while it lasts….” a small voice in his head sang.

Phineas did his best to drown out the voice and focus on being present in the moment. Right now, he just wanted to walk to school arm in arm with his best friend.

He could worry about later, well...later.

...

Isabella tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach as she took a seat towards the front of the school auditorium next to Phineas. As she placed her backpack down in front of her, her hands briefly hovered over its front pocket...where she’d stashed a certain bright pink letter for safekeeping.

“.....you can do this, Isabella.”

Her plan was simple: give Phineas the letter and admit she’d had a crush on him when they were kids, elaborate on how she’d spent less time with him and tried to get over him so they could stay friends when they got a little older...and finally confess that she was still completely, totally, helplessly in love with him.

Isabella wasn’t quite sure WHEN she’d enact her plan. She wasn’t even sure why she’d brought the letter to school with her, since she didn’t want to give it to Phineas until they could actually sit and talk about it.

Perhaps she’d just brought it as a reminder, as a physical manifestation of her decision to finally tell Phineas how she felt. If she kept the letter on her at all times, she couldn’t lose track of it or chicken out.

And she WAS going to give it to him. Hopefully, before the day was through….hopefully.

She winced.

She’d been far more confident about her plan last night, when it was still a plan for tomorrow.

But she was doing this for Phineas. So he’d know she never stopped wanting to be his friend. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to muster the courage to confess for just herself, but….she could do it for him.

“Hey, Isabella?”

Isabella flinched when she realized she’d been hovering over her backpack and lost in thought for, like, twenty seconds. She quickly sat up and faced Phineas.

“Yes? What’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering…” Phineas scratched the back of his head. “...do you have plans later in the day? Like, after school, around dinnertime, that sort of thing?”

“Well, I have soccer practice right after school, but I’ll be done at 5:00,” Isabella replied. “And then I’m free for the rest of the night! Well...as free as I can be with all the homework I have to do….”

“That’s perfect!!!” Phineas exclaimed eagerly. “Well, not the part about the homework, of course. But, anyway, after soccer, would you want to come over and celebrate officially finishing our project? My parents and Ferb are going to some fancy restaurant for the evening, so it would just be the two of us, if that’s alright. I thought we could make pizza or something and just hang out...and of course do homework if we need to.”

“That sounds like fun!” Isabella replied cheerfully. “But, wait...why are Ferb and your parents going out to eat without you? It doesn’t seem like them to leave you behind.”

Phineas’s stomach twisted into a knot. “UHM. UH. ...Ferb!!!!” he stammered.“Yeah!! Uh! He made the reservations! And!!! He could only reserve a table for three! But...I told him that was alright because, because...because I’d rather spend time with you than go to some fancy restaurant anyway!”

Whew. Crisis averted.

“Oh!” Isabella rubbed the back of her neck and blushed. “Well, in that case, sure!! I’d love to hang out with you later.”

“Awesome!!!!” Phineas said with a grin. “And you having soccer until 5:00 works out well, it’ll give me just enough time to—”

He quickly clasped his hands over his mouth to muffle any other words, eyes wide.

Isabella chuckled. “Just enough time to….what?” she asked slyly.

(Phineas probably had some grand celebratory invention idea up his sleeve.)

Phineas rubbed the back of his neck and tried to keep from blushing. “Uhhhhh, it’s a surprise!!!” he sputtered. “....and now you KNOW there’s going to be a surprise, DANG IT.”

Isabella laughed fondly as he groaned into his hands. “I probably would’ve found out you were planning something sooner or later, Phineas. Keeping secrets isn’t exactly your strong suit.”

“Hey, I can keep a secret!!” Phineas insisted. “In fact, you’d be SURPRISED at how good I can be at keeping a secret.”

“Oh yeah?” Isabella smirked and leaned a little closer. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that.”

“Yeah, so do I,” someone deadpanned from behind them. “You’re kind of horrible at keeping secrets, Dinnerbell.”

Isabella and Phineas both whirled their heads around at the familiar voice, and their eyes lit up when they located its source.

“Buford!!” Isabella exclaimed with a grin. “It’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, you aren’t even in this class!” Phineas added. “Did you sneak in? You aren’t going to get in trouble, are you?”

Although he was happy to see Buford, he wouldn’t want him risking punishment on he and Isabella’s behalf.

(And...he was also eager to divert this conversation away from his capacity to keep secrets as best he could.)

“I heard you two were singin’ together and thought I’d drop in to show my support!” Buford replied matter-of-factly. He leaned forward in his chair a bit. “And no, I didn’t sneak in: the door was open. AND, my theatre teacher knows I’m here. I’m not going to get a detention or anything, don’t worry.”

He chuckled before adding, “Baljeet also asked me to take a video of Ginger singing ‘Chop Away at My Heart,’ since he can’t be here to see it himself. He had classes to teach.”

“Oh, I forgot about that!” Isabella said with a giggle. “I can’t wait to see her perform!!”

“Sooooo….” Buford rubbed his chin. “You two are singing a love song, right?”

Isabella and Phineas blushed a little.

“Yeah, we are…” Phineas replied. “‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ to be precise. But, we didn’t get to choose our songs! We both just happened to pick that one at random.”

(He didn’t want Buford jumping to any conclusions.)

Buford nodded. “That’s a great song! You guys probably had to spend a lot of time together to get it ready for today, huh?”

“Yeah, we did…” Isabella replied. She gave Phineas a shy smile. “It’s been fun.”

“Very interesting….” Buford mused pensively. “Two lifelong best friends, paired together for a project on a love song and given the opportunity to spend quality time together for the first time in years…what are the odds? And what could such an opportunity lead to? Would they rekindle their friendship? ...or would something more blossom between them?”

He spread his arms out, as if gesturing to a marquee for the film unfolding in his mind. “I can almost see the title now: Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

Phineas suddenly longed to crawl under his seat and never come out (or perhaps crawl under his seat and drill a tunnel into the floor so he could escape this situation). CLEARLY Buford was teasing them under the thinly-veiled guise of brainstorming a new script idea.

….Ferb probably put him up to this.

Isabella, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh at Buford’s spiel.

(She was far more accustomed to dealing with friendly teasing than Phineas, since she’d had more years of experience doing so.)

“Buford, no offense, but that’s probably the cheesiest film idea you’ve ever come up with,” she said. “...and that’s saying something because you asked us to help you make a movie about sentient cheese sophomore year.”

“Hey, cheesy doesn’t mean bad!!” Buford insisted. “And it would be based off of true events, which would make it authentic!! Audiences love authenticity.”

“Yeah, well, the ‘true events’ you’re referring to weren’t NEARLY as dramatic as that,” Isabella pointed out with a chuckle.

(This wasn’t entirely true...the past few days had certainly been sort of dramatic...but she wasn’t about to tell Buford that. At least, not in front of Phineas, anyway.)

“You are right about one thing, though.” Isabella took Phineas’s hand in hers and smiled at him. “Phineas and I DID rekindle our friendship because of the project. And I couldn’t be more glad.”

Phineas’s heart stuttered and his face flushed bright red because, after hearing Buford’s movie pitch, holding hands with Isabella and listening to her talk about him so fondly was a little overwhelming.

Thankfully, Isabella was looking at Buford again, so she didn’t notice.

Buford, on the other hand, definitely noticed.

(He was a hopeless romantic at heart, how could he NOT?)

Buford rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he stood. “Well, I’ll let you two ‘mentally prepare�� to perform now, just wanted to say hi. Have fun up there!

“Yup...horrible at keeping secrets….” he chuckled as he strode off to find a good seat. He glanced at his friends over his shoulder (Phineas seemed to have recovered by now, even though he and Isabella were still holding hands) and thought, “....from everyone but Isabella, anyway…”

“Bye, Buford!!!” Isabella called out.

She turned back to Phineas, who was smiling at her….and gulped.

Because looking at Phineas reminded her he’d invited her to hang out and celebrate the end of their project after soccer practice.

They’d be at his house. Spending time together. Just the two of them.

She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect opportunity to confess to him.

It was almost too convenient.

…..and her plan suddenly felt far more real than it had minutes ago.

“Alright, everyone!!”

Ms. Chase was on stage and clapping to get everyone’s attention.

“It’s time for performances to start!!” she called out. “Who’d like to go first?”

She glanced around the auditorium for a moment...and her gaze fell on a certain pair of students.

”How about...Isabella and Phineas?”

Isabella and Phineas started a bit.

They glanced at one another...and realized they were still holding hands.

And that everyone was staring at them.

“Are you two ready?”

Isabella and Phineas stared at their hands for a moment and then up at each other again.

Perhaps everyone was staring at them.

But neither wanted to let go.

So they didn’t.

“... are we ready?” Isabella whispered.

(Because suddenly she was incredibly nervous. And not just for the performance...but for what was to come after.)

Phineas squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “...of course we are.”

(Perhaps he was somewhat nervous, but not because they were about to sing together. Performing with Isabella would be easy. If anything, he was nervous for later, for after school and soccer practice and what he had planned...but now was not the time to worry about that.)

Isabella smiled back as some of the butterflies in her stomach dissipated.

Phineas was right. They WERE ready.

They stood together hand in hand.

“Yes, yes we are!!!” Isabella called out.

...

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING AAHHHH!!!!!! I spent a long time with this chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait!!!!!!!!

Thanks as always to the fantastic @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for being the best beta everrrrr!!!!! 

(also! the bit about Nana Shapiro's handwriting was inspired by my late great grandma, who had the tidiest cursive ever and used to send me the sweetest letters! I miss her a lot, so it was wonderful to pay homage to her in this💕)

I'll see you soonish for chapter 9!!!! I've already started writing it and...it's gonna be a good one👀👀👀