#God look at that toppled stack of books behind the chair

[storiesundercandlelight]

Could we get a Geoffrey x Reader (vampyr) where he sneaks the reader into Priwen??!! I read your first Geoffrey fic and loved when mentioned sneaking her in!!! I need it pleasseeeeeee?!?!

Ah Thank you for another Geoffrey request!! I do so love writing for the Vampyr boys!!

I hope you like it!

Geoffrey x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW +18,

You walked slightly behind Geoffrey, slowly as he turned to look around a street corner. You couldn't help the way your eyebrow raised in question as you watched him. "Looking for something?"

"Just seein' if any of the lads are outside" this spiked your interest, a smirk pulling at your lips as you walked past Geoffrey into the street.

"Worried what they'll think of me? How could you associate yourself with such west end scum?" Your mocking tone carried over the road to Geoffrey who was now rolling his eyes at you.

"No it's not that, I don't let them bring girls into the base. I'd be a piss poor Captain if I started ignoring my own rules"

"No girls? What a sad life you make them live" you pouted your lips at the man before you earning another unimpressed look. Geoffrey wouldn't admit he loved your playful humour, it was an unexpected brightness in his life, god forbid you found out though, he'd never hear the end of it, so for now he rolled his eyes again.

"Be quiet, you're the one making me break the bloody rule in the first place"

"I want to see your office... and room"

"They're one in the same"

"Poor hunter" He shook his head and forced you on towards the current Priwen base, his head turning side to side as he looked over the street, making sure you wouldn't be caught. You reached the door, it wasn't an attractive building at all, a warehouse more like, the door Geoffrey lead you to was actually to the side of the building. He quickly whipped out a set of keys before unlocking the chipped door and sticking his head inside. You would have laughed but you knew you have been scolded by him for doing so. Instead you waited as Geoffrey held up his hand silently to you before disappearing inside for a moment.

"Alright come on" he kept his voice so as he opened the door wider, and promptly leading you to a precarious set of stairs, you tried to look over the rest of the building but there wasn't much to see. The hallway seemed to be off to the side of the building, a grated iron wall separating it from the main space, shelves and supplies kept you hidden as you followed Geoffrey and they also prevented you from seeing too much of the rest of the space. You could hear voices though, rough accents and laughter came from the men inside, the smell of some sort of food wafting through as you made your way up the stairs.

You couldn't see much from the landing, certainly not if you were on the lower level. This didn't stop Geoffrey from all but marching you down the walkway and into another room.

Your eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room, the office come bedroom left much to be desired. An old desk was pushed to one side of the room, a chair behind it, facing the door. The bed, just big enough to fit Geoffrey and maybe you if you were pressed together was off to the right side, the sheets thin but the blanket thrown over it looked thick enough to fight off the cold. Papers littered the floor and the surface of the beaten up desk, piles of what looks like journals, and books stacked almost toppling over were placed haphazardly on any surface that was available, half empty cups of coffee and a glass still sticky with left over whiskey were grouped together on the corner of the desk. A small chest was sat at the end of the bed, you guessed for Geoffreys clothes.

"I told you it wasn't much" Geoffrey's voice from behind you sounded almost embarrassed, you realised he'd probably been waiting for you to say something and you'd remained uncharacteristically quiet since entering the room.

"It's yours. That's all that matters" You smiled at him, hoping to make him feel less self conscious. The difference in class wasn't something you brought up often with Geoffrey though you know it bothered him on more than one occasion, mostly because of his distaste for the upper class. Your parents had reluctantly purchased you an apartment in the west end when you and your mother had another argument, when you had brought Geoffrey there - something he wouldn't have normally agreed to - you could see that he felt out of place it was the only time you had ever seen him unsure of himself. You weren't keen on it happening again.

"Aye it's mine until we need to move again, then it will be the next shithole we end up in that's mine" He walked across the room as he spoke, keeping his voice low to ensure no one outside heard you both talking, not that many guards came upstairs given that it was only his room and a supply room currently being used to store Priwens supplies. But he didn't want to take the chance, knowing the stick he would get if the men found out he'd snuck a girl in.

"You're too hard on yourself, I think the shitholes suit you" You smirked at him, plopping down on the hard mattress, wincing slightly at the idea of Geoffrey coming back from a hunt and having to find comfort in the hardness beneath you.

"Hmm" Geoffrey came to stand in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched and waited for you to likely say you were done with seeing the room so he could usher you out as quickly as he'd got you in. But you had other ideas in mind.

Reaching out you grabbed Geoffrey's coat pulling him closer and at the same time pulling yourself up to a stand. You smiled sweetly at Geoffrey before twisting the two of you, pushing Geoffrey down to take the space on the bed you had just gotten up from. You knew he was letting you move him, you'd once tried to push Geoffrey during a playful fight and couldn't move him even a little.

Quickly, before he came to his senses you climbed onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Shh" Geoffrey felt your lips on his a moment later, his hands almost without control going to your waist to hold you there. Your fingers teased the back of his neck, the short hair brushing against your fingertips. Your lips danced this same dance effortlessly now, so many nights spent pressed against each other it was more than natural.

You couldn't help the small disappointed whine that fell from your lips when Geoffrey pulled away. "No. Absolutely not, don't even think for a second that we're doing that here"

"It's not that bad Geoffrey - you make it sound like you're living in a backend hovel"

"It's not the room I'm concerned about, it's the noise you make and the men downstairs"

"I'll be quiet" Geoffrey scoffed.

"You couldn't be quiet if our lives depended on it"

"So miserable" You pouted, hands still dancing along Geoffrey's skin, moving down his neck to the red scarf he always wore, tugging at it playfully, a smile creeping onto your face that had the hunter rolling his eyes, fighting a small smirk of his own.

"Not miserable, sensible is more the word"

"Oh is that what you're calling yourself these days? Sensible? I'll be sure to remember that when you next go off on a hunt to fight god knows what" You stole a quick kiss before pulling the scarf away from Geoffrey entirely, the scarred skin underneath now visible and accessible to kiss along.

You knew it was a sensitive place for Geoffrey, giggling you remembered the first time you'd found out it was not the scars that made him tense when your lips followed the trail up his neck, nipping playfully at his ear.

Geoffrey let out a large sigh, his eyes closing both in mock frustration at your determination and because despite him not wanting it to - it felt good. The drag of your tongue by his collarbone, the lingering kisses against his skin. Your hands were making quick work of his clothing, the warmth of your hands against his skin as you push his shirt open made him sigh again, his head tilting back just slightly to give you more room to playfully nip at his skin.

A few moments more and you were suddenly lifted off of Geoffrey's lap, your back hitting the bed and the hunter crawling on top of you. "One sound and I swear to God I will stop and march you out of here" you nodded eagerly pulling his down to you, your lips fighting each other for dominance - which he won - as you pushed his clothes from his shoulders, barring his upper half to the chill of the room.

Geoffrey knew this was an awful idea, he always got stick from his men who wanted - and tried- to sneak girls of their own into whatever they were calling their base at the time. The fact that their leader was here breaking his own rules was something he really didn't want the headache over. But the feeling of your hands on him, pulling him closer, the warmth of your kisses and the way your breath hitched when he returned the touches back was a temptation he just couldn't fight.

Your thoughts kept drifting from keeping yourself under control when Geoffrey's lips moved from yours and down your neck, both of you working together to remove the last of your clothes, throwing them mindlessly across the small expanse of the old and chipped wooden floor. You arched into Geoffrey's touch when his hand trailed down your body to reach between your legs.

"Excited by this are ya?"

"I thought we were being quiet?" You quipped back breathlessly, already feeling heat rising over you as Geoffrey began to tease you with his fingers. HIs digits sliding slowly over you before pushing in, he knew what you liked, curling his fingers quickly had a gasp falling from you as you arched into his touch.

Geoffrey could easily spend hours watching you fall apart beneath him but, perhaps another time, when he could fully enjoy all those little noises you were holding back. Moving away from you Geoffrey moved between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours. "Remember, quiet"

You nodded eagerly, pulling the hunter closer to you as he lined himself up. With one final look at you Geoffrey slowly moved his hips forwards, pushing into you, his eyes closing briefly at the feeling of your heat taking him.

Geoffrey kept his movements slow and deep, his arms either side of you holding him up. The very idea of being caught both unnerved him and excited him, the idea of having to keep quiet made his heart race. When you thrusted your own hips up to meet Geoffrey's a groan that he wasn't ready to contain slipped from his lips.

You tutted mockingly, a smirk pulling at your lips when Geoffrey shot you a warning gaze. He didn’t let his rhythm falter, silently he was thanking god that the bed - as worn and old as it was - didn’t creak.

Geoffrey leant down further, the closeness allowing him to leave kisses along your jaw line, occasionally capturing your lips when he thought your quiet gasps might turn into more. It sent butterflies through your stomach, the position so intimate, the idea that the two of you were holding onto each other this closely, trying desperately to stay quiet. But the heavy breaths that fell from both of you only had you more excited, you could feel yourself tensing, the inevitable snapping of the cord coming much quicker than you would have imagined.

“Jesus..” Geoffrey cursed his right hand moved down your body, gripping your waist, almost moving you against him as he kept pushing into you.

“Geoffrey…” he shushed you, his lips pushing against yours to mask the quiet moans you just couldn’t keep in as your orgasm grew nearer and nearer.

A sudden bang outside the room had your heart leaping from your chest, Geoffrey stopped instantly, his hand quickly covering your mouth when you accidentally let out a small moan. You cursed whoever was out in the hallway, cursed them to a lifetime of misery. Geoffrey stayed still, listening for what he could only imagine was someone coming to his room looking for him.

After what felt like minutes but was likely only a few seconds the door to the storage room beside Geoffrey’s closed and the footsteps grew quite as they walked away. Geoffrey let out a sigh of relief before snapping his gaze back to you. I told you this was a bad idea written all over his face while you were trying to hold in a giggle.

“This is not funny” he whispered.

“It absolutely is” you whispered back, smirk growing. “I’ve seen you look less worried at a pack of vampires”

“I’d rather a pack of vampires over the wrath of my men” you pushed your hips up, reminding Geoffrey of your current situation. He shook his head in disbelief but before you could say anything back he started moving again in earnest.

You gripped onto his shoulders as he set a brutal pace that had you biting your lips to stay quiet. It wasn’t long before that oh so wonderful feeling started building again and this time there were no disruptions. Geoffrey caught your lips with his as you climaxed, your lips parting only for you to let out a few deep breaths. Geoffrey’s head moved to the side, using the crook of your neck to mask his own groan as he filled you.

A few moments passed, your breaths slowly becoming normal as you laid against each other. You were suddenly very aware of how quiet it was. You could hear a pin drop and it had the hairs on your arms lifting.

You tapped Geoffrey, encouraging him to lift his head up to look at you with a questioning gaze.

“It’s so quiet”

Geoffrey’s eyes flicked to the side in the direction of the door, he was listening. Too quiet. Geoffrey sat up, the heat from his skin leaving you, allowing the chill of the room to ghost over your skin. After a few moments of listening Geoffrey got up from the bed, his moments so quiet for someone so burly, it was a stark reminder of how good of a hunter he was. He quickly passed you your clothes as he started dressing himself.

Your heart was pounding, why was it so quiet? Your mind was reeling, thinking of all the worst case scenarios. Was the base under attack? Did some vampires get the jump on the guards?

Once fully dressed you stood near the old desk as Geoffrey pulled out his gun, moving to the door he pulled it open and cursed under his breath. You didn’t move, you couldn’t see what was behind the door nor could you be seen thanks to your position in the room.

You heard a click as Geoffrey uncocked his gun, his arm falling limp, his other hand going through his hair as a deep sigh left his lips. “Go on then get it out”

“Get what out?” A deep Scottish voice came from the hallway. “Ye don’t actually mean to tell me what we think is happening is actually happening? That the great McCullum is in here breaking the rules?”

Geoffrey stood unamused his arm now holding onto the door.

“The lads are loaded up to give your grief tomorrow” you could hear the laughter in the man’s voice. “You are gonna hear about this for a long time McCullum” you heard the chuckles of whoever it was as he walked away from the room and down the stairs you had come up earlier.

Geoffrey turned his head towards you, the look on his face both defeated and annoyed. “I to-“

“You told me it was a bad idea I know I know….” You took a pause as Geoffrey closed the door again, reaching for your coats, clearly readying you both for a quick exit. “I am sorry….”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry I won’t be around to hear all the grief you’re going to get” you started giggling now, unable to hold it in anymore, the whole situation had your body shacking with laughter.

Geoffrey however wasn’t amused, his gaze on your hard as you laughed. “This is the last time I trust your ability to not get us into trouble” he tried to hide his own smirk, he almost did. With one last sigh, the thought of months of stick from his men ahead, Geoffrey pushed you towards the door and out of his little room.

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes We are Born (Part two)

A/N: Just wanna say thank you so much for the notes and follows! I appreciate it a lot. I forget how broken tumblr is until i have to post something with 1000+ words. Anyways enjoy lmao.

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The cool and crisp sheets welcomed you in its arms once you woke up. They smelt of pine trees and lemon with a tinge of muskiness to it. A dull ache coursed through your head, causing you to curse. The light did no favours for your head either. You groaned; there was a bedside table with a few candles. A hint of vanilla wafted through the air as the flame flickered and danced. “Where the fuck am I?” You rubbed your eyes to wake yourself up even more before trying to escape wherever the fuck you had been taken to. A bandage was placed on the side of your head where that cop had struck you. Slinging one leg out you raised yourself out of bed, or tried to anyway. The sheets had wrapped itself around your legs and waist. Your left leg felt tingly and weak once you put your weight on it. “Oh fuck,” you yelped as you toppled onto the floor, smacking your nose in the process. A nice thudding sound followed at the impact. Great, now my kidnapper knows I'm definitely awake. It was nice living while it lasted, I guess. As if on cue hurried footsteps caught your attention. The sound traveled throughout the mysterious place and into the room you were currently in. As you tried to untangling your legs out of the cursed sheet, you noticed the mountains and mountains of books piled in the room. Several stacks were behind the bed and there were cases of them piled on the cold floor. 

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you tried getting up again. However, your legs still refused to cooperate with you. The floor seemed to stare back at you mockingly as you caught yourself from kissing it. Huffing, you resorted to a military like crawl to get around. One arm forward, one leg forward, pull. Now, other arm… “I see you have awakened,” an amused voice said. There, stood your captor. V. You almost laughed at the pink frilly apron tied around his waist. Almost. You sent him a glare as he stood there, amused in the predicament you were in. “I didn’t notice. Where am I?” “My home. The Shadow Gallery,” V said as he extended his arm. “May I?” Sighing, you wrapped your fingers around his arm and let him pull you up. You clutched onto his arm tightly for support. Your knees started to shake and you prepared for them to buckle beneath you for the third goddamn time. “Oh great,” you huffed as you started to fall. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing for impact. It never came. Your eyes flew open and you stood there, confused. That’s when you realized what was supporting your waist. Who was supporting your waist. V’s arm had snaked around your waist and he pulled your side into him. He rested his mask atop your head, warmth radiating off of him. You could smell the musky scent of pine from the sheets as you inhaled. Cheeks singing with heat, you mumbled a “thanks.” “Of course, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself anymore,” he chuckled. You wanted to ignore the way his voice traveled down your spine and caused your belly to flutter.

“How long was I out for? I can’t really..walk.” “Yes I can see that,” he teased. “Roughly I’d say two days.”  Two days? Two fucking days?!  “How is your head,” V asked as he led you through the gallery. “Hurts,” you quipped, leaning on him for support. His arm was still wrapped around your waist. Not that you noticed. Several Statues and paintings filled the hall as he led you to..somewhere. You gaped in shock; famous paintings and sculptures that had been locked up were sitting here, in the Shadow Gallery. “Holy shit, V. These are..,” you guestered towards the contraband in front of you. “From the vaults of the Ministry of Objectionable Materials,” he finished for you. “How did you manage to steal them?” V chuckled, “Stealing implies ownership, you can’t steal from the censor, I merely reclaimed them.” You laughed, clever as always.

V led you to a small kitchen. A small table sat in the middle of it with the appliances behind it. Knick knacks and books filled the barren beige tiled walls. The Shadow Gallery had a homey feeling to it. Just looking at it made your heart warm. You sank into the chair V had sat you in. A couple books were open on the table along with a few newspapers strewn about. “TERRORIST DEAD!”, was one of the headlines of the paper. A picture of V’s masked face was printed, lying on the floor. You snickered. How stupid people had to be to believe that shit. “I apologize, I was going to tidy up before you woke.” You looked away from the clipping and smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright, V. Much cleaner than my apartment; there’s paint splattered everywhere and clothes around the floor.” “You enjoy painting?” His back was turned to you holding an egg. V cracked it somehow making cracking an egg elegant. It sizzled as it fell onto the pan. “Yea I do. I’m not the best but I love it. It helps me.” You watched V as he moved about the kitchen. 

His gracefulness never failed to astonish you. The spatula he was using caught the egg after he flipped it into the air. It made you smile as you watched him maneuver around the place. “Art is art. Whether or not the quality of it is excellent, it should speak what words cannot.” “Not sure you’d still say that once you looked at it,” you laughed. “I tend to make some weird things.” “I would like to see them one day, you have caught my interest,” V said, scooping the eggs on a plate. He placed a piece of toast on the plate and set it before you. That’s when you caught sight of his hands. They looked painful; they were an angry red and scars littered them. His hands looked incredibly rough and it looked like it hurt. Your heart hurt looking at them. “V,” you said softly, “are you okay?” His eyes caught the direction you were looking at. “Ah, excuse me.” He turned his back to you as he grabbed his gloves. The leather crinkled as he snapped them back on. “There, that’s better,” V said once he turned to you again, flexing his fingers as he held them in front of him. “Did you hurt your hands?” V didn’t say anything for a bit as he looked at his gloves. “Once, a long time ago. There was a fire. I’m fine now, thank you for your concern.”

The air felt tense between you two. V’s body language seemed uncomfortable at the mention of his hands, so you didn’t press any further. You dug into the egg in front of you;yolk poured out as you cut it. You hummed as you took a bite. “God, that’s good.” V chuckled, his shoulders relaxed once the topic of his skin was dropped. “Good,” he said, pouring tea into a cup. His hands were folded as he watched you munch on your toast. The taste of buttery goodness hit your tongue instantly. You looked at him shocked. “That’s...is that real butter?” “Yes, yes it is.” You stared at him, dumbfounded. “How did you..?” “A government supply train on its way to Chancellor Sutler.” Your brows shot up as you gaped at V. He said it so calmly like stealing from a dictator was a normal pastime. “You’re actually crazy. You stole..from Chancellor..Sutler..I..”

“I dare all that may become a man. Who dares more is none,” V quoted. Your brows furrowed  and your lips pulled into a frown at his words. What is he talking about? “I’m pretty sure I don’t understand that reference.” “Macbeth?” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He probably thinks I’m an idiot. You shook your head and looked down at your food. “Not interested in the fine art of theatre?” You scarfed down your last bite of toast and egg, setting your fork down gently. If you weren’t starving you would be embarrassed of swallowing your food. V didn’t seem to mind anyways. 

“I enjoy seeing plays and things like that. I just never got the chance to read them.” You grabbed your plate and started to rise from your seat, but V stopped you. “I’ve got it Mademoiselle,” he said, grabbing your plate from your hands. “Thanks,” you replied, sitting back in your seat awkwardly. You twirled your thumbs to try and calm the butterflies in your stomach. You felt sick as you stood there. Would he be offended or embarrassed that you hadn’t studied theatre?  “I have a few of his works around the gallery, you’re more than welcome to read them if you’d like.” The sink spat out water. You watched V scrub your plate vigorously. You had to stop yourself from laughing as you realized he’d change his gloves again to rubber yellow ones. “I would, but it’s hard for me to understand what's going on. I probably sound stupid,” you muttered. V shook his head; his hair bouncing along with it. “Nonsense my dear; just because something is difficult does not make you stupid.” You snorted. V turned to you after putting your plate away. The look in your eyes looked faraway, and empty. Underlying it was sadness and a flicker of anger. “My dad would say differently. He was religious and batshit insane.” “What about your mother,” V asked, folding the kitchen towel and hanging it back on the stove. “Cancer took her. I don’t remember her at all.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” You shrugged, “Life moves on. What can you do.” V didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t know what to say. He had many skills, but comfort was one he lacked. You looked so bitter as you sat there, sipping your tea. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to read one of Macbeth’s plays to you,” V said gently. Surely, that would help take your mind off of things right? You grinned, ignoring the fluttering in your heart. A distraction was what you needed and V gave you just that. “Sure!”

[lokislittlesigyn]

OG616 : Thor: The Dark World - Pt.5 [The Visit]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: Major character death, some other mentions of violence/death. Nothing overly graphic.

Author’s Note: Have a little old-married-couple-Logyn as a treat. (followed by immediate sad. I promise, this gets less dark soon!)

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath , @onaheroicmission To be added to the taglist, just ask me here or send a message! <3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was there.

Right there.

Moments away. Inches away. Loki stood with his back to her, flipping through a book.

The inside of his cell looked surprisingly comfortable, mostly thanks to what few things she and Frigga sent. Inside there were the tables, the chair and footstool. Books, stacked neatly against the far wall. A bed in the corner - with their blankets on it. The bed was unmade, one of the blankets hanging off the edge onto the floor.

At least he’s gotten some rest.

She smiled softly, then looked at him again. She wasn't sure how to get his attention.

Glancing around just to make sure they were alone, she pulled down her cloak's hood.

Seconds felt like years. Eons.

What do I say?

She stared at him. Took another step up the stairs before the cell, and tripped - gasping sharply, barely catching herself before she fell into the field of burning energy.

That was close. She leaned back, trembling slightly, her gaze locked on the deep gold aura gleaming in front of her.

Then she looked up. Her heart skipped a beat.

Loki was watching her, his face conveying pure astonishment for a split second - then confusion. Anger?

"Sigyn." He snapped his book shut. "I should have known you would be foolish enough to come here."

"Foolish?"

"Yes, foolish. It is foolish to risk getting caught, to risk getting killed-" He stopped himself. Exhaled, set the book aside. Looked back at her. "You should not have come."

"I hadn't meant to anger you..."

"Pardon me for fearing for my wife's safety."

"Loki, I am safe." She tried to step closer, but stopped at the barrier. She already hated the barrier. "You see? I got past the guards without them ever noticing - Loki, I'm here, I've come to you! Are you not glad to see me?"

"I would be more glad if you were not so close to being locked away too."

Sigyn's voice softened. "If it meant being with you, I would choose it."

Loki swallowed, watching her. He stepped closer.

"What happened to you, Loki? What did they do to you?"

"The Asgardians?" He huffed a laugh.

"No. The creatures you were with, the mad titan and his ally. What happened?"

Loki’s smile quickly disappeared.

".. You shan't speak of it. Of course." Sigyn looked away.

Give him time. Be patient.

She looked back at him.

He seemed to be studying her. Soaking in every inch of her. It felt almost like when he would admire her, so long ago. Of course, she admired him too.

She'd always admired him.

"I still can't believe you're here.." She breathed. "I missed you. I missed you so much. When they told me you were dead, I..." Tears gathered in her eyes. "I couldn't believe it. I didn't, at first. And then you were alive again. But you weren't safe, you were out there, alone.." She stumbled over the words, whispering through tears. "I missed you."

He let out a soft, defeated sigh, blinking slowly. "I missed you too."

Sigyn's heart felt lighter than it had in over a year.

He missed me. He still loves me.

She smiled, in spite of the circumstances, though she desperately wished she could join him. She wiped a few tears away with the back of her hand.

"The necklace I gave you.." Loki walked to the edge of the barrier, his hands behind his back. "You still wear it."

"Of course I do." She pulled it from under her shirt, holding it out. "I haven't stopped."

"Since..?"

"Since the day you fell."

Loki nodded. "Hm. Truly the goddess of fidelity."

"It's just a title," She returned the necklace to its previous spot.

"But you uphold it well."

She smirked. "As you do yours."

Loki let out a breathy laugh. "I'm sure many would disagree."

"The god of mischief," She smiled, warmth in her voice, "The trickster. Fitting titles, both."

"And yet who is now on the outside looking in? Hiding their identity, committing - I'm afraid to say - terrible crimes?"

"Is it a crime to see my husband?"

"It's certainly a crime to break into the dungeon."

"Funny. You'd think they'd be more worried about someone getting out, not in." Sigyn grinned.

Loki huffed, "You would be surprised."

"Perhaps. Shows how much I‘ve yet to learn," she giggled, glancing away for a moment. As she turned her head, she could've sworn she saw Loki truly smile at her.

"Have you any idea how these cells work?"

"Now, Sigyn. Don't tell me you're going to break in and out of the dungeon."

"I only asked a question." She walked over to the dungeon wall. No controls, no levers, no hint to how the barriers were sustained..

"Some sort of spell, I imagine, but none I know." Loki watched her, gripping his hands together as she continued smoothing her hand over the wall. "Sigyn," He called, "You should leave."

She stopped. "What?"

"Leave, Sigyn."

"I've only just got here.."

"It's not safe."

"But-"

"The guards are coming on patrol. Unless you would like a cell of your own, you must leave."

She looked at him one last time. Sure enough, the sound of footsteps echoed through the dungeon. She hadn't noticed.

"I love you," She grasped her hood.

He gazed down at her, his breath heavier. "..I love you too, Sigyn. Now go."

~~~~

Sigyn left the dungeons completely unnoticed. She meandered through the palace, stopping near the throne room. Checked to make sure she was alone before pulling down her hood and gazing out a window at the city. Her heart still felt giddy, her hands still a bit shaky after finally speaking with him - it took everything in her not to shout for joy.

I'll find a way to free you, Loki. You'll be safe here. The Nine Realms are protected, our family is back together again. We even have Jane now - everything is better than it was before. She sighed happily, taking in deep, relaxed breaths between small fits of laughter. It will be okay. Everything will be okay-

Alarms sounded.

The prison alarms.

Her hair stood on end, her heart skipping once before pounding in her chest.

Loki.

Had he found a way out?

Guards hurried, battalions forming and marching to report to the king. They wouldn’t rally so many just to stop him… We’re under attack.

Sigyn followed. She caught a glimpse of Frigga and Jane walking away.

Good. Frigga will keep her safe.

"Allfather?" Sigyn caught up with Odin. He turned, facing her.  "Allfather - how can I help?"

"You can stay out harm's way."

Sigyn huffed, "I want to help."

"Sigyn, you have little experience in battle, and no weapon to speak of. The best you can do is stay safe."

She wanted to argue. To help, to fight whatever was attacking her home - but instead she nodded, backing down. An argument between her and Odin was the last thing everyone needed. "Very well, as you wish.."

Odin seemed vaguely impressed as she turned, leaving. Not knowing where Frigga and Jane were, Sigyn went up to a room she knew healers would be hiding in - and sure enough, many were there, looking bewildered. She closed the door, standing before them.

"The Allfather will protect us. We are to remain here."

Countless explosions sounded from outside. The entire room shook as something attacked - no, bombarded the palace.

The servants looked to Sigyn. As princess, she was highest in command among them.. Though she’d hardly led anyone before.

"Don’t fret," She assured them again, "We will be safe here."

They waited.

And waited.

Holed up in the quiet healing room, listening to muffled explosions from outside.

Sigyn couldn't decide if it was better or worse to be waiting, rather than in battle - at least out there, she might see what was going on. Eventually, the deep hum of a ship flying away suggested they could leave.

Sigyn walked to the door, opening it. Paused. "It's safe."

Making her way to the throne room, her breath grew unsteady.

Bodies. Bodies everywhere, littering the floor with blood and decay. A ship had crashed into the throne room. Countless pillars of stone toppled over, the dust still settling over the ruin. 

The throne of Asgard, half destroyed. More bodies laid strewn about before it.

She swallowed, looking at each of them pointedly. Rest well. You fought bravely.

She looked around her. Not a soul. Where are they all?

She searched the castle, catching sight of Thor and Jane. They were safe.

"There you are!" She stopped in front of them. "Where is everyone, brother?"

Thor gazed down at her.

Sigyn's brow immediately furrowed and her stomach churned. He had the same grim look she'd seen over a year ago, when he'd returned from the Bifrost with Odin. But now it somehow looked more certain. More real. More… Enraged.

"Thor...?"

"Sigyn, come, there is.. No way to put this lightly."

~~~~

Frigga was dead. Gone.

Dark elves had attacked and murdered her, along with countless others. Dark elves of Svartalfheim - an enemy they were told had been slaughtered by King Bor eons ago. 

Yet another lie that had cost her family everything. 

So many lives lost.

Her life lost.

Sigyn sat by a window, weeping quietly. Grief came in waves, washing over her relentlessly, one after the other.

If I'd followed them, her and Jane, things might be different.

I should've followed them. I should've helped them. I should’ve known how to fight.

She gripped the folds of her cloak, sniffling. Squeezing her eyes shut.

Mother, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I should've been there to defend you.

Sigyn opened her eyes again, gazing out the window.

I miss you already.

~~~~

That night, a funeral was held. Sigyn begged Odin to let Loki attend.

He refused, and forbade she try to tell him herself. 

She knew it was too risky to go see Loki now. Frigga was no longer there to vouch for her - one wrong step, and Odin may have Loki executed for all she knew...

So Sigyn stood alongside Thor and Jane, clutching her necklace with white knuckles. Watched as boats, carrying the deceased, drifted peacefully by. There were so many boats... Too many.

A flaming arrow was lit, sent flying out to meet Frigga's boat. Flames consumed it. Then more arrows flew and met the other boats, flames growing. Burning.

As Frigga's boat drifted to the edge of the sea, Odin beat Gungnir on the ground, and her body turned to stardust, floating up into the sky.

Sigyn's gaze followed them.

An ocean of stars. Billions of shining lights, the same she and Loki once lied under. The same she once asked Frigga about.

I miss you, Frigga. A tear ran down her cheek as hundreds of lights were released, each drifting to the sky. Stars in their own right.

I will keep your son Loki safe. Give him your love and mine, love him more than I ever have before. I will help Thor, and Jane, the mortal. I promise, I will do you proud. Even if you were not my birth mother,

She swallowed,

You were a mother to me.

[constantlytiredghost]

Magical Library Au but make it a prequel  featuring spiral!sibs :D

The yellow door seemed unassuming and harmless, nonetheless  Gerry’s heart was racing in his chest. He had been staring at it for over ten minutes now and still wasn’t closer to opening it. By now, he had memorised the swirling patterns in the door at least until they decided to change again, twisting into new patterns which didn’t help the lingering feeling of wrongness that surrounded it.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He had to do this. He couldn’t just come back like a dog with its tails between its legs. Not again. Gerry swallowed dryly before pushing against the door.

The door quietly swung open, with none of the ominous creaks that Gerry had expected. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

“Oh, welcome! I was already wondering, if you’d actually come in or just leave again.” a voice greeted him, making Gerry’s head snap around. He stared at the tall woman who smiled at him with a sharp-toothed grin while he stumbled back until he hit the wall behind him.

“No reason to be scared.” the woman chuckled as Gerry tried to become one with the wall. “I’m not planning on hurting you,” she added. “Actually, I think you’re here, because you want something, don’t you?”

Gerry nodded slowly.

“Great. Mind telling me your name before we figure out, how we can be of help.”

“Gera….Gerry.” he answered.

“Gerry, huh? That’s a lovely name. Why don’t you take a seat while I make some tea?”

Gerry wanted to say that he didn’t like tea and that he wasn’t even sure if he should take food from a witch, but he didn’t dare to disagree, so he just nodded and sat down on the chair the witch had pointed at.

The woman vanished from the room, leaving Gerry alone and unoccupied enough, to actually look around for the first time.

It was a big room, technically, but it was so cluttered and filled with things that it didn’t seem that way. There were shelves full of jars and pots. Books stacked in hazardous stacks that seemed to topple over any moment. There was a cauldron over a cold fireplace and from the ceiling hanged various herbs and stone and glass fragment that shimmered and shifted the light that fell through them, reflecting and breaking it.

Gerry was to busy staring to notice the second person entering the room.

“Oh, a visitor.”

For the second time in barely 10 minutes, Gerry startled and whipped around to gape at the man who had just entered. He was even taller than the woman with wild blond curls that seemed to have a life of there own.

“I’m Michael, and you are?”

“Gerry.” Gerry answered with a bit more confidence this time. “and I’m waiting for uhh…” he realised that he had never gotten the name of the woman.

“-Helen.” Michael finished for him, and Gerry simply nodded. He assumed the woman’s name could be Helen.

Michael sat down on the table in front of Gerry ignoring the other chairs.

“And what brings you here? Did you get lost.” curious eyes fixated him, making Gerry fidget in his chair.

“No…..I need uh some help?”

“Oh? Usually, people don’t come here so young for help… How old are you?” Michael asked, tilting his head.

“I’m not that young,” Gerry muttered, his mother always said that he was basically an adult and that he should act that way. “I’m fourteen.”  Just barely. His birthday had been last week.

“And how can we…”

“Michael, stop bothering him.” Helen interupted, just coming back with a steaming mug that she handed Gerry before flopping on the table next to Michael

“I’m not bothering him. I’m,,, just asking questions.”

“Yes, bothering him.” Helen said with a grin which resulted in Michael huffing and rolling his eyes.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked Gerry then.

“Uhm…” he wasn’t used to getting asked about his opinion and his fingers tightened around his mug “I’m….I’m good I think.” 

“See! Not bothering.” Michael said, gesturing at Gerry. “All good.”

Now it was Helen’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Sure. Anyway, how can we help you.”

Both looked at him now, fixating him with multicoloured eyes. He swallowed.

“I want…. iwanttobefree.” he muttered quickly, words swimming together.

Helen raised her eyebrow.

“Free?” she asked.

“From what?” Michael added.

“My mother.” Gerry answered, voice barely above a whisper.

“You know that every help has its price?” Helen asked, and Gerry nodded. He did, and he was willing to pay it.

“Huh, so not just a whim.” Michael hummed. “What did she do?”

“I-” Gerry stared of but broke off again, his eyes were burning, but he tried to hold his tears back. He didn’t want to cry in front of two strangers.

“You don’t have to tell me you can show me instead.” Helen interfered quickly, holding out her hand. “Just give me your hand, and I’ll know everything I need too.”

Gerry sniffled a bit but placed, his hand in hers. It felt weird as if there were too many bones in it, but it looked perfectly normal, then it felt like something got pulled out of him leaving him dizzy when Helen pulled her hand back. Her face was stony when she spoke again. “Don’t worry Gerry. We’ll definitely help you.”

“What will it cost? I don’t have…” Gerry started timidly. He didn’t have any money but witched usually didn’t want that anyway.

“Oh don’t worry. In this case, it’s a freebie more or less.” Michael said, flashing some sharp teeth.

“More or less?” Gerry asked.

Michael shrugged.

“We’ll take your mom.” he answered with a shrug.

“My mom? Will you kill her?” asked Gerry with wide eyes.

“Not exactly.” Helen said but didn’t elaborate. “And we’ll take everything that connects you to her.” she added.

“Like…like my memories?” Gerry asked, eyes still wide. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lose his memories.

“Nah,” Michael said. “Memories are boring. We’re talking more about something like this.” he hummed, leaning forward to tug at one of Gerry’s curls.

“My hair?”

“The colour of it.” Helen hummed.

“It’s like hers isn’t it?”, Michael added, letting go of the strand.

“How do you…?” Gerry asked.

“Oh well, Helen saw it when she looked into your head earlier, and I can see what she sees most of the time if we want too. We sorta share a brain.”

“But I got all the brain cells.” Helen snickered.

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Uhm.” Gerry made before the could continue bickering. “I’m… Uhm I’m fine with that.”

They both looked back at him, wide smiles on their faces.

“Perfect!” they replied in unison.

“I’ll take care of Mary you take care of the hair~” Helen chirped and was gone before Michael could protest. 

“God damn it. Not again.” Michael muttered. “Well, let’s take care of it. Any colour preferences?”

Gerry blinked and shrugged. “I don’t ca…no wait…can you make it look like my dads?” he asked softly.

“Black? Sure, bit boring but if that’s what you want.” Michael said with a shrug. “Could also offer pink, blue stripes or dots or something interesting like that.” Gerry shook his head.

“Black is fine.”

“Sure then.” Michael agreed.

When Gerry had come here, he had expected pain, but switching the colour of his hair was painless and easy with Michael chattering nonsense while Gerry sipped on the tea, that Helen had handed him.

It was only later after he had left the yellow door behind him that he noticed that one of his strands in the back of his hair was iridescent changing colour every time it was hit by light. A small reminder of where he had been, he supposed. He didn’t mind.

And all of this had only happened hours before Gerry would meet the second, well technically third witch in his life and would learn that he hadn’t been the only Keay to make a deal with a witch that day. 

.

.

.

.

.

. @everythingisstardust

[vin-taege]

espresso shot (m)

summary: catching your boyfriend’s co-worker jacking off in the cleaning closet may have been the best thing to happen to you

genre: smut, pwp, fluff

pairing: barista!taehyung x reader x barista!jimin

warnings/notes: established relationship, threesome, oral sex (f receiving and m receiving), vaginal sex, anal sex, dirty talk, sir kink, cum play, double penetration, pussy slapping, brief subdrop, aftercaaare

words: 6k

a/n: this takes place a few months after decaf. if you want, you could read decaf here, or you could read this as a stand-alone fic!

Taehyung rarely got the night shift. However, the staff ran short after a few of them called in for a sick leave, each one with a different excuse, yet ultimately none of them being actually sick. Hyuna had a date planned out with her boyfriend, Jungkook had an e-game tournament all the way in back in Busan, and no one really knew where Jinyoung slipped off to. Namjoon didn't even bother, used to the staff's antics. Jimin and your boyfriend on the other hand was more than compliant to cover their shifts. It was almost 10 pm, and you were just waiting for them to close up shop. Thank god you were on break, so you didn't have to worry about staying up late on a week night, not that you were used to it. Ever since you started dating Taehyung, he has been nagging you non-stop to fix your sleeping schedule. You eventually did, along with picking up a lesser intake of instant noodles. He was very strict in keeping you healthy, and you found it so adoring. The "closed" sign hung from the door. Namjoon already left ten minutes ago, trusting the boys enough to leave the cafe to them. Jimin was re-checking the inventory while Taehyung counted the day's profits. All the chairs were placed neatly upside down on the tables, except for yours. "Sweetheart, are you okay there? Sure you aren’t hungry? We have some left over pastries I can reheat for you.”

You looked up from the book you were reading. Taehyung was tucking away the cash bound in rubber bands, though his eyes remained on you. “I’m fine, Tae. I’ll wait all night if I have to.”

“Luckily, you don’t. All I have to do is mop the floor, then we can go home. Jimin hyung said he’ll cover the dishes,” he rounded the counter, taking long strides toward you. He bent down, swiftly pecking you on the lips. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“Of course,” you grinned. “Do you want me to get the mop for you?”

He nodded, grabbing a chair and setting it down to sit on it. “Thanks, babe. Really. My back is is starting to ache and I feel like my feet are about to fall off.”

Chuckling, you made your way to the back of the store. A glance towards the sink told you Jimin was true to his word - the enormous pile of dirty plates earlier only reduced to about less than ten pieces, all of which were drenched under soapy water. You figured they might’ve had tough stains, and the boy soaked them for easier removal. 

Weirdly enough, you can’t find Jimin anywhere. All of the other counters were clean, and the storage room was already locked. Thinking he might’ve stepped out for some fresh air, you made your way to the cleaning closet. 

There were legends of the cleaning closet housing different mysteries of the cafe. The stories became almost tradition to the staff, most of them too absurd to be true. Some say a trainee once found a box of condoms in there, then resigned the ext day, never to be seen again. Others say Jungkook stashed his alleged hentai manga collection just behind the bottles of dishwashing liquid. 

By the looks of it, one more story was going to be added. From far away, the cleaning closet seemed normal, aside from a slightly ajar door. The closer you got to it, the more you heard faint grunts coming from the inside, as well as an occasional squelching noise. 

“Jimin, what are you- Holy shit!” You covered your eyes as best as you can, screeching your head off. Jimin yelped, dropping the makeshift fleshlight he was holding - a sponge squeezed into a tall container plus some other things you weren’t able to look at.

“Don’t look, don’t look!” Panicked, he tucked himself back into his pants, though his boner still strained against the fabric. He stood up in a hurry, accidentally stepping on the “fleshlight” and toppling over into a stack of buckets, the mop you were supposed to get falling on top of him.

“Is everything alright there?” Taehyung’s voice hollered from the front of the store, followed by footsteps. You looked at Jimin with wide eyes. Tae couldn’t see you like this. Before he could get a glance at the room, you rushed over to him, pulling him out of the kitchen. “What happened? I heard the two of you yelling and then something crash. Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Your voice came out higher than expected. You cleared your throat and cupped Taehyung’s cheeks in our hands, bringing his face closer to yours. “Yes. I’m tired. And so are you. Let’s go home.”

You began tugging him towards the door, but his more muscular built made it easy for him to stay in place. He frowned at you, “What happened?”

“___ thought she saw a mouse so she screamed and surprised me. The thing you heard falling was me kicking the shelves to see if it would come out. Turns out it was just a ball of hair,” Jimin emerged from the kitchen, face still flushed red, thought he looked more composed.

You mentally thanked him for covering your ass. Taehyung looked back and forth between the two of you, huffing as he bought the explanation." Thank god it wasn't a mouse. We could've been shut down for being unsanitary." 

"Not if we kill the health inspector." 

"No, Jimin. We do not base our plans off Spongebob again." Jimin scoffed at the lack of honorific. Taehyung turned towards you. "You ready to go home?" 

You nodded, already wanting to get out of the awkward situation. Jimin couldn’t look either of you in the eye.

Taehyung’s apartment was small, but welcoming nonetheless. With enough help from his father, and from the cash he earned from his job, he was able to afford the cheap space. You decided to stay with him over the course of the summer break since Seulgi went home to her parents, and yours were still out of town. Plus, he was the one who insisted anyway, and who were you to pass the opportunity up?

The second you stepped into the room, Taehyung tackled you onto the bed. You giggled as he smothered your face with sloppy kisses, pausing to slowly press his lips against yours. You hummed into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Jesus, you’re sweaty,” A low laugh rumbled from within his chest. Still, he kept pecking at your neck. You groaned, “Tae, we should shower first.”

“We’re gonna get sweaty again anyway,” he whined. “Unless you want to fuck in the shower?”

“No, it’s almost midnight. I want to sleep,” You tried pushing him off, which resulted to him plopping himself onto your body. You feigned annoyance, lightly slapping his back and whining for him to get off you. “At least let me eat you out.”

You stilled at the idea. You could feel him smirking against your skin, knowing you took the bait. And you were about to give in too, if it weren’t for the memory of catching Jimin in the cleaning closet coming back to you.

It was weird suddenly thinking of him this exact moment, just as you were about to receive mind-blowing oral from your boyfriend. You just never thought you’d ever see him like that. Cute, charming Jimin. With his pouty lips and cherubic face, which, now that you think of it, looked more sharp a while ago. He was attractive, you couldn’t deny that. But nothing could beat your love for Taehyung.

“Hey,” you pushed him gently, separating your bodies just enough for you to see his face. “I’m sorry, baby, but I’m really sleepy right now. We can have sex in the morning if you want.”

Taehyung pouted, though he got off you, sitting on the edge of the bed instead. “Ok, goddess. Whatever you say. You can shower first if you want?”

“It’s fine. We can shower together?”

“No, ladies first. Plus, I have to check up on Jimin. Make sure he got home in one piece, you know?” he winked at you. The mention of his best friend’s name made you flustered. You nodded, getting up to quickly lock yourself in the bathroom. The sooner you got a good night’s rest, the better.

In contrary to what you had promised him Taehyung the night before, you woke up an hour before noon. You patted the spot next to you, confused to find it empty. He was off duty today, so where on earth could he be? You were still groggy from the sleep, but the scent of pancakes and bacon made you perk up. At first, your mouth salivated at the idea of the meal – but then you remembered. Taehyung wasn’t exactly the greatest chef.

Stumbling up from your bed, now fully awake, you made your way towards the kitchen, stopping to find Taehyung happily solving a crossword puzzle on the small dining table. His eyes lit up when he saw you. “Good afternoon, sleepy head,” he said rather loudly. 

He ushered you to sit on his lap, feeling him half-hard through his sweats. A smile smile played on your lips. “My goddess,” he murmured, mouth against the back of your neck. “I know you just woke up, but I have something to ask you.”

“Yes baby?” you purred, pushing your ass back onto him. He let out a hiss, hands grabbing at your waist. He hooked his chin on your shoulder, lips a few centimeters away from your ear. He blew lightly at the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. In the height of it all, you forgot what made you so alarmed in the first place.

“What are your thoughts on threesomes?”

You froze. Even when you stopped grinding, you could feel his cock twitch beneath his sweats. “Is this a trick question?”

He let go of your hips, hands curling at his stomach instead as he threw his head back in laughter. You got off his lap in favour of sitting on the chair next to him instead. “I mean,” he wiped an imaginary tear off his eye. “No, not really.”

“I was just thinking,” he grabbed his pen, filling out one of the blanks in the forgotten crossword puzzle, before looking back at you. “It would kinda be hot? In your favour of course, because when you’re turned on, I get more turned on. And, I don’t know, the idea of sharing you, seeing you get extra… wrecked… I think it’s hot.”

Your hands went to smoothen out your tangled hair, suddenly feeling conscious. You never thought Taehyung would be into that, considering how needy for attention he was. “And you’re asking this because?”

“I know what happened between you and Jimin hyung last night,” you paled, speechless. He noticed how tense you suddenly got, and quickly added on, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. I trust you, and I also trust him. I just thought I’d rather do it with someone I trust, rather than someone I’m not entirely comfortable with.”

Taehyung remembered how Jimin comforted him the fateful day the nude was sent and he felt like shit. He was always there to give him that extra push, or give him words of advice. Jimin definitely had a special place in both of your hearts.

“And hey, I know how attractive Jimin is. Between the two of us though, I don’t think he can really compare to-“ he gestured towards his crotch, tracing his v-line with his hands. You laughed, before biting your lip. At this point, his dick was visibly straining against the fabric. Not yet fully hard, but he was getting there. “So, sweetheart, just tell me what your verdict is. No pressure, okay? I want you to feel safe and comfortable in anything we do.”

“Well,” you started off. You kept thinking about it, not finding any harm in having a little fun. Jimin was close enough to both of you that it wouldn’t be weird or awkward after. He knew his boundaries. “If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it too. I’m totally down.”

He beamed, leaning closer to you. “Perfect,” he gave you a deep kiss, before pulling away. He yelled towards the kitchen, “Hyung, did you hear that? She said she’s down.”

You jolted up, eyes wide when Jimin emerged from the kitchen, a plate of pancakes in his hand, and a spatula in the other. A pink apron reading “Kiss the Cook” was messily tied over his clothes, what you recognized as Taehyung’s gag gift for him last Christmas. He set the plate down on the table. “Good morning, ___.”

“It’s noon.”

“It’s morning for her,” Hearing them bicker normally made you feel a bit more relaxed. So he was the one cooking. That’s why the smoke alarm didn’t go off even once. “Don’t even think of getting another one. You ate five pieces a while ago, Tae. Five pieces.”

Jimin slapped Taehyung’s hand away, about to grab the pancakes. The younger boy grimaced, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest like a child. “Bacon’s on the way. Let me just find another plate.”

When Jimin got back in the kitchen, you hurriedly whispered to Taehyung, “I’m sorry, why is he here?”

“I thought you were down for the threesome?” he asked confusedly.

“Yes but- but what if I said no? What were you planning to do then?”

“Well, first of all, I knew you weren’t going to say no. And secondly, if you did, then we’d play video games instead, I guess? He’s here for some kink negotiations, and so that we could establish some ground rules.” He tore off a piece of the pancake, shoving it in his mouth. He got a second piece and fed it to you. You had to give Jimin some credit; his cooking was amazing. No wonder your boyfriend had five.

“And when did you find the time to organize all of this?”

“Last night, when you were in the shower,” he said through a bit of the pancakes. So that was why he wanted you to shower first. You stared at him mouth agape. He chuckled, feeding you more pancakes. “Yes, I know. I’m a fast worker.”

Jimin reappeared with the bacon, sitting on Taehyung’s other side. “Now that all of us are here, we can start the discussion.” Taehyung clapped his hands. “___, go first.”

“Well,” you shifted in your seat. Your eyes were glued to the food on your plate, the attention from both boys making your cheeks heat up. “Just don’t knife me, or whatever. No bleeding. Yeah, that’s all I got.”

“No bleeding, got it,” Jimin scribbled onto a piece of paper. You stared at him, surprised. “You’re actually writing this down?”

“For notes, of course. If you’re stuck on ‘don’ts’, let’s move over to ‘dos’.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Uh... I’ll sub for this one. You guys can use me however you please. My safe word is ‘d.va’ but we also go by the traffic light system.”

The boys smirked, simultaneously looking at each other. Jimin leaned closer to Taehyung, whispering though you still heard what he said. “I thought you said she was dominant?”

“She is, usually. But she lets me dom from time to time. She switches on either extreme ends of the spectrum. One day, she’s a few seconds away from pegging me, and then the next day, she’s a very bratty sub.” You sent him a pointed look, Taehyung only giving you a sheepish smile. “She likes name-calling in subspace.”

“Have you guys tried anal?” Jimin directed the question towards Taehyung. The younger boy nodded, looking towards you. “Yeah, a few times. Are you okay with it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t mind it.”

“How about fluids? Spit, cum, any preferences?”

“Spit and cum are nice. Anything outside of that, no-no,” You gave Jimin time to organize his notes. The feeling of nervousness was long gone, replaced with excitement. Taehyung’s hard-on had grown soft with the lack of stimulation, but you could tell it’d be a matter of time before it came back.

“Okay. Tae, any ground rules for me?”

“The moment she feels uncomfortable, we stop.”

“Of course,” Jimin smiled. He adored how protective Taehyung was of you; always putting your happiness first. He felt honored to be invited to take part in something so special and intimate between the two of you. “Anything else you want to discuss?”

You both shook your head. “Mhm, When do we start?”

“After lunch,” Taehyung scooted his chair closer to yours. He laid his head on your shoulder, slightly nuzzling into your neck. “Tae, it is after lunch.”

“Well then,” He didn’t complete his sentence, opting to kiss you instead. Taehyung didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in already, the kiss gradually becoming sloppy. The sweet taste of syrup from the pancakes still lingered in his mouth, a flavor you chased after. He grabbed at your waist, pulling you off your chair and into his lap, prompting you to straddle him.

Jimin kept watching you kiss all-throughout, hand palming at his jeans. You still felt a little shy, not used to having a third person with you. But when Taehyung dipped his hands into your shorts, palming at your heat from behind, all your shyness was replaced with arousal.

He pressed his middle finger against your panties, directly at your core. He started nipping at your bottom lip, making you whimper. Faintly, you heard Jimin get up. The older boy moved behind Taehyung, grabbed your chin and tilted your head up to face him. “May I?”

“Please,” You gasped, Taehyung pushing your panties aside to slide a finger into your wet lips. Jimin forced your head forward, making your body press against Taehyung’s, his plush lips meeting yours. Getting deeper into the kiss, Taehyung slipped another finger in, spreading your wetness from your lips to your clit.

“Fuck, look how wet we made her,” you whimpered when Taehyung retracted his hand. He held it up, fingers previously inside you now coated with a glossy sheen. Jimin pulled away from the kiss, licking his lips at the sight of your arousal. “I want to taste.”

“Bedroom,” Taehyung lifted you up, carrying you into the bedroom, Jimin hot on your heels. Once you got in, he dropped you on the bed, stepping aside to let Jimin crawl on top of you.

He sucked experimentally on a small part of your neck, teeth lightly biting at the skin. His mouth moved swiftly against you, until he nipped at one spot that made you moan out. “Found it,” he mumbled, biting harder.

While Jimin was busy sucking love bites into your neck and collarbone, he moved his legs so Taehyung had access to your lower body. The younger boy tugged your shorts and underwear down, until the only article of clothing you had on was his over-sized shirt. He licked his hand, from the bottom of his palm to the tip of his middle finger, then lightly smacked your throbbing pussy.

The yelp you let out made the two boys chuckle. Jimin detached his lips from your skin, eyes catching on your hardened nipples pressed against your shirt. They got Taehyung’s attention too; your boyfriend unabashedly reaching out to pinch at one. You moaned out, Taehyung continuing to pull and roll the bud, the rough fabric giving you a new sensation.

Jimin reached underneath your shirt, flicking at your neglected nipple. He spread his hand over your breast, squeezing it lightly, nipple in between his in ring and middle finger. “She likes getting her boobs played with,” Taehyung explained to him, encouraging his ministrations. 

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” A sharp slap landed on your clit, making you cry out. Pleasure soon replaced the sting, a thumb circling your clit. You looked down to see it was Jimin, the one, you assumed, to be gentler of the two. “Yes, sir.”

“I hope she likes getting eaten out just as much,” Jimin whispered, taking his place in between your legs. Before he could go any further, Taehyung stopped him, whispering something into his ear. Jimin smiled wickedly, nodding as he moved away from you.

“I want that mouth here,” Taehyung pointed at the ledge of the bed. Compliantly, you changed your position, knowing exactly what he wanted you to do. You laid on your back, head hanging off the bed. Jimin resumed his position between your legs, waiting for Taehyung to give him his go-signal.

One of Taehyung’s biggest kinks was having his dick in your throat. Whether it be face-fucking or cock warming, having his large cock snug in your mouth turned him on massively. He had gotten rid of his sweats, said cock hanging intimidatingly above your face. You sneaked a glance below you, finding Jimin had done the same thing, now only in his briefs.

Taehyung held his cock in his hands, giving it a few pumps. He let the pre-cum pool on top of his angry red tip, dripping down straight onto your lips. “Tongue out. Don’t waste even a single drop.”

Meanwhile, Jimin had his fingers on you again. His thumb pressed roughly down on your clit, index finger sinking knuckle-deep inside your pussy. You moaned, following Taehyung’s command, hanging your tongue out invitingly. “Please, sir, let me suck your cock.”

The younger boy took his time, however, lightly hitting your cheeks with his dick. He clicked his tongue, acting as if the whole process was a chore for him. “You just can’t get contented with one cock, hm?”

Jimin chuckled darkly, adding another finger in, curling them inwards to brush against your g-spot. You shuddered, bucking your hips to chase after the pleasure. He placed a hand firmly at your lower abdomen, holding you in place. His touch was fleeting, never truly hitting the spot, making you whine. “Tae, shut her up already.”

“With pleasure.”

Just as Taehyung pushed his cock in between your lips, Jimin wrapped his own lips around your clit, sucking harshly. Your moans sent vibrations all over Taehyung’s cock, making him let out a low groan. He kept pushing in, not stopping until he was entirely sheathed in your throat.

You tried focusing on breathing through your nose, but Jimin was making it difficult, fingers pumping in and out of you in a gradually fast pace, combined with his tongue sending fast licks on your clit. Taehyung groaned, wrapping a hand around your throat and pressing his thumb at the center of it. He could feel his cock against the tight area, pressing his thumb down lightly.

Ignoring the slight gag you let out, he pulled his hips back, only to plunge his cock back in. Even after doing this numerous times, you still weren’t used to the sheer size of him. It was a struggle to open your jaw wide enough to accommodate his girth, and it was more of a struggle to breathe with his cock jammed in your windpipe.

Choked gasps and moans reverberated around Taehyung. Jimin started dipping his tongue in and out of your pussy, slurping your wetness up noisily. He clutched your thighs, hooking them above his shoulders to bring you closer to him.

You were already starting to feel lightheaded from the pleasure on both ends. Taehyung wasn’t holding back, fucking your mouth with his hand still wrapped around your throat. Saliva and tears ran down your face, your body sticky with fluids. 

“You said she can take anal, right?” Jimin pulled away from your cunt, a string of your fluids still connected to his tongue. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung moaned out, pace not breaking. “You should try her mouth first. It feels so warm.” He said it so casually, like talking about sharing food. 

He pulled out, leaving you in a coughing fit. His dick was coated in spit, hard against his stomach. Jimin discarded his boxers and took his place in Taehyung’s previous spot. Pre-cum spilled from the head of his cock, just as much as Taehyung’s. Even through your fucked out haze, you managed to smirk; you were the reason these boys were so turned on. In a way, you were still on top of it all.

“Did you fuck her brains out? I think you broke her,” Jimin narrowed his eyes at you. Taehyung scoffed, rummaging through your bedside drawer. You couldn’t take a proper look, but you knew there was something in his hand. Jimin glowered above you, “I’ll give you something to smile about.”

His dick was shorter in length compared to Taehyung’s, but his girth made up for it. He was impressively thick, sporting a delicious curve. You licked your lips, only adding to the wet mess on your face. He placed his cock in between your lips, thrusting in slowly, in contrast to Taehyung a while ago. “Prep her for me.”

“Way ahead of you,” Taehyung whispered. There was a generous amount of lube coating his fingers. You flinched when he pressed against your rim, the lube initially cold. “Don’t worry baby, it heats up. Gotta get you nice and opened up for us hm? Relax for me.”

You hummed around Jimin’s cock, thoughts already too foggy to catch onto Taehyung’s every word. Jimin was fucking your mouth nice and slow, taking his time to savor you. It allowed you to have control more – to press your tongue onto his cock as best you can, the angle making it more difficult. You hollowed your cheeks out, swallowing around him whenever his tip hit the back of your throat.

“How are we gonna do this, Tae?” Taehyung looked up from his work, raising an eyebrow at Jimin. “How’s the fucking gonna go down?”

At this point, your boyfriend already had a finger in you, just slipping in another one. He scissored them slowly, giving you time to adjust. He was so focused on stretching you out properly that he almost didn’t catch Jimin calling him again. “Y-yeah, I don’t really know. Take your dick out for a second, yeah?”

Jimin complied, pulling out and tapping your lips with it. Taehyung’s voice was low, “How do you want us to fuck you, sweetheart? Jiminie here wants your ass, while I’m contented with that sweet pussy of yours. Who do you want first?”

You cleared your throat. It felt so raw after all the fucking, your voice barely a croak. “Both of you.”

They stared at you with wide eyes, Taehyung’s fingers stilling inside you. Jimin was first to break the silence, “At the same time?”

You nodded, to which Taehyung slapped your pussy with his other hand. “Words, disrespectful slut,” he growled.

“I want both your cocks in me, sir,” you purred out. The idea of having them in you at the same time made you clench at nothing, Taehyung noticing it and smirking.

He waved Jimin over to his side, the two boys watching in awe as he stretched you out. Taehyung managed to squeeze in a third finger, making you moan out loud. “Condoms or no? I’m clean, but if that’s how you guys do it, then I’m cool with it.”

“No need,” Taehyung grunted, slipping all his fingers out. You moaned, already feeling empty. “We’re both clean, so no need to worry, hyung. Help me get her up. I’ve prepped her enough.”

Together, they slowly helped you into a sitting position, thighs spread apart. Jimin sat behind, while Taehyung was in front, effectively sandwiching you. You could feel both their cocks - Taehyung’s pressed against your stomach, and Jimin’s in between your ass cheeks. “Color?”

“Green. Fucking get in me, Tae!” you practically yelled. Though he lost his dominant facade, the way you commanded him only turned him on more. You gave out a vibe more of an impatient dom than a bratty sub; it made him question if he was still the sub here all along, only liberated because of his mistress’s wishes.

Pursing his lips together, he guided his cock to your pussy, filling you up in one thrust. You threw your head back in a moan, arching into Jimin. Taehyung groaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. Jimin took the opportunity to lay a trail of wet kisses from your shoulder to your neck, stopping to whisper at your earlobe. “Hold yourself open for me, baby.”

You let go of Taehyung, sliding your arms back to grip your ass. Spreading your cheeks with trembling fingers, you waited for Jimin to enter you.

Without even a second passing, his tip was pressing against your rim. He pushed in slowly, entranced by the way you stretched around the head of his cock. You clenched involuntarily around Taehyung, making him whine. “Hyung, hurry up. I can’t hold on any longer.”

“You should’ve went easy on the face fucking,” Jimin grumbled out, though he slid in the rest of his cock, still careful not to hurt you. Once your ass was sitting snug against the base of his cock, the three of you moaned out in unison. 

You felt so full, two huge cocks stretching both holes. Incomprehensible words stumbled from your mouth, mind reduced to mush when they started moving. The bed creaked under your weight, slow groans matching yours. The build-up of pleasure was too much, from Jimin’s skillful tongue on you to Taehyung’s slender fingers stretching you out beforehand. Your fingers slipped from their hold, arms giving out along with the rest of your body. 

Taehyung caught you in time. He wrapped his arms around your waist and back, not only bringing your torso closer to him, but also making your ass jut out more for Jimin. His hyung let a moan out in content, bringing his palm down your ass. You whined, slightly rocking your hips back and forth to match their thrusts.

Slowly, their thrusts grew faster, rougher. The pleasure was so mind-numbing, you couldn’t do anything else but to take what they gave you. Head slung over Taehyung’s shoulder, drool dripped off the corners of your mouth. You took in a sharp breath after one particularly hard thrust from Taehyung, ass and pussy clenching around both cocks. 

“Shit, baby, keep doing that,” Jimin groaned. “So tight, so tight. Doing so good for us hm? You wanna cum?”

The only word that made it through the haze in your mind was “cum”, enough for you to understand. You shook your head eagerly, letting out desperate “uh-huh’s” ending in moans. “What do you do before you come, sweetheart?” 

“Please,” you mewled. Unsatisfied, Jimin pinched your ass cheek, soon rubbing his thumb soothingly over the red mark. “You can do better than that.”

“Come, sir, I want - I want. Ple-ase. Let me, please. I want-”

“Do it properly, or you’re not coming at all tonight. Use your big girl words.”

Taking a deep breath, you let the sentence out as best you can in one breath, “Please, sir’s, I want to come, please let me cum.”

Taehyung squeezed your sides lightly, a sign of his approval. Jimin ran his hands through your hair gently, in contrast to the sharp snaps of his hips. He leaned closer, whispering a quick “come, baby” before watching you shudder as your orgasm ripped through you.

They fucked your through your orgasm, holding your spasming body upright. Taehyung hissed when you dug your nails into the sides of his thighs, going in so deep you knew they will still be slightly visible even until next week. You were clamping down so hard on them that they stilled for a moment, taking in the feeling of your walls all around them.

They could feel the outline of each other’s cocks through the fleshy barrier, the realization driving them closer to the edge. Taehyung was the first to come, shooting his load against your cervix. With the last bit of strength in you, you clenched around him, desperately trying to keep his cum inside. Jimin felt the pressure from your walls just as much as Taehyung did, sending him over the edge. 

For a while, the whole room was filled with your irregular breathing. You were so spent you couldn’t even open your eyes. Your hearing was slightly muffled, so you had no idea what the boys were talking about - if they’re talking.

Jimin was first to pull out, having more left over stamina. Your hole twitched, still slightly open from his massive size. Cum dripped down from your ass, the older boy sitting back on his thighs, mesmerized by it. 

“Hyung,”

He look towards Taehyung, who looked equally as fucked out as you. Hyuna was right calling him baby boy. The thought of him being dominant towards you almost seemed impossible if it weren’t for him witnessing it first hand. Maybe you’d get back at him; Jimin didn’t know.

“Do you want me to get her for you?”

“I’ll just-” he took his time to catch his breath. Your boyfriend rubbed your back soothingly, seeing that your thighs were still quivering post-orgasm. “I’ll just get us some water.”

Carefully, Jimin lifted you off Taehyung - and in turn, his cock- to let you lay on him. You whined, feeling uncomfortably empty and sticky. Their cum was starting to spill out of you, making a mess on your inner thighs. Shakily, Taehyung got off the bed and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. He went up to you, kissing your cheek. “Baby? You did so well for us tonight. Taetae’s just gonna get you some water, okay? Jimin hyung’s here for you, so if you need anything, just ask him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

When Taehyung left the room, Jimin gently propped you in a more comfortable position. You could feel him get off the bed as well, making you frown. It was getting cold very quickly, you were getting irritable, and they just disappeared. You couldn’t think straight, but all you knew was that you were alone.

Suddenly, a warm, damp cloth pressed against your heat. Fingers threaded through your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp. “I’m sorry, I had to find something to clean you up with,” Jimin’s voice was soft, calming. “I’m here now. I’m so proud of you.”

Taehyung arrived soon after, carrying two glasses of water, new bedsheets slung over his arm. Jimin cradled you, tilting your head up so you could drink. Taehyung offered him the other glass, which he gladly accepted. “Hyung, can you carry her up for bit? I’m gonna change the sheets real quickly.”

“Sure.”

After the boys got you cleaned up, a new pair of panties on you and Taehyung’s t-shirt, they began to sort themselves out. Luckily, Taehyung’s clothes fit Jimin as much as they fit you. Although Jimin initially insisted to go home, Taehyung convinced him to stay the night at his place. Now fresh and dehydrated, the three of you were back on the bed.

“Cuddle,” you murmured, more of a command instead of a request. Taehyung chuckled spooning you on his side. Still, you felt something missing. Sleepily, you opened an eye slightly, looking for Jimin. He was next to you, still sitting cross-legged awkwardly. He noticed the both of you staring at him, his face turning red. “W-what?”

“She said she wants to cuddle,” Taehyung smiled at him, a soft smile getting the message across: It was okay. 

He laid down, hugging you from your other side. He thought about how cute your relationship was, how perfect you are for each other. He didn’t know if the subdrops were common for you, but he found it endearing how much Taehyung coddled you when it happened. He looked over at Taehyung, finding him with the same far-away look he had, before the younger met his eyes.

“Thank you for tonight,” Jimin whispered. He didn’t know what else to say. Taehyung lifted his hand towards his arm, giving it a squeeze. Between them, you slept warm and contented. Everything felt in its place, and he went to sleep knowing so.

[miraworos]

Azira Fell and the Apocalypse Scroll (T)

SUMMARY: The hunt is on for a mysterious and deadly scroll with the power to topple the world into chaos. Will Dr. Azira Fell, professor of Egyptology, find it in time to prevent the impending apocalypse? Or will an evil organization bent on destroying civilization find it first? To have even a chance at saving the world, he'll need to rely on the wily Anthony J. Crowley, professional guide and adventurer. But can Azira trust the inscrutable explorer, or will he lose his heart along with his life?

Or: A Good Omens Indiana Jones AU, because why not?

Ashmolean Museum, Oxford - 1935

Doctor Azira Fell hummed a few bars of Davies’ Op. 51 as he selected a couple of works from the Ashmolean library’s collection. Sunlight streaming through the clerestory window above ignited the gold-embossed lettering on the cover of a book chronicling the Ptolemaic dynasty near the end of the Hellenistic period. To Azira, who practiced knowledge the way others practiced religion, the glow seemed an omen of the treasure within.

Descending the step stool, he carried the volumes to a nearby table. He laid them as softly as possible on the polished oak and tugged the lamp chain. Then he sat in the high-backed chair, wiggling ever so slightly with the anticipation of the chase.

The passages for which he was searching would likely be buried in the usual drivel of martial accounts, rankings, and supply inventories. The Romans really were such tiresome windbags about conquest. Very few saw the forest through the trees with all their facts and figures and mind-numbing reports. Thus, it was up to Egyptologists like Dr. Azira Fell, associate faculty of Oriental Studies at the University of Oxford, thank you very much, to find the occasional tree that hinted at the actual forest.

Azira took out his small, leather-bound journal, opened it to where the stub of a pencil was wedged into its pages, and began to record the call numbers of the volumes he’d selected. With any luck, he’d have a few hours uninterrupted by students to collect a handful of tidbits meriting further investigation.

“Dr. Fell!”

Azira’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. So much for uninterrupted hours. He hadn’t even made it five minutes.

“Dr. Fell, you have to see this.”

Anathema Device, Azira’s research assistant and the first American woman to study Oriental Studies at Oxford, popped out from behind a set of nearby stacks, breathless with excitement.

“There you are,” she said. “I knew you’d be prowling around the 932s. Look at this.”

She hurried forward, holding a hardcover book open toward him. He recognized it at once as her mother’s account of her expedition to Nubia at the turn of the century, before Anathema was born. Her mother’s obsession with Egyptology inspired Anathema’s own passion for the profession.

“What is it, dear?” he said, as he took the book from her hands.

“I’ve read this entire thing cover to cover so many times, but I never noticed this before,” she said, her face alight like it always was when she made a new conceptual connection or discovery in her research.

Azira looked at the place on the page to which she was pointing, but didn’t immediately see the source of her excitement.

“I don’t understand,” he said apologetically.

She took the book back and read aloud. “In late 34 BC, authorities on behalf of Emperor Octavian claimed that Mark Antony had stolen a sacred scroll from the Library of Pergamum and gifted it to Cleopatra of Egypt as recompense for the burning of the Alexandrian scroll collection during Caesar’s Civil War.”

“Yes, but that was a false account to discredit Antony. Your mother knew that. We all know that.”

“That’s not the interesting part,” Anathema said, grinning wider. “It says a sacred scroll as in one—not many. Scholars generally accept that the rumor stated Antony gave Cleopatra something like 20,000 Pergamum scrolls. Not one sacred one.”

Azira stood up. “You think she means the scroll? The scroll about th-the—Macedonian, er—”

“The Macedonian spice route,” she finished for him with a significant look. “Yes. I think she could have meant that. Hiding an indicator in plain sight is just like her.”

He took the book from her again and traced the spidery writing with excitement. Anathema’s mother was considered the preeminent authority on all things occult during the Ptolemaic Dynasty. That’s how Anathema had come to learn of the sacred scroll in the first place, through bedtime stories her mother had told her. Azira had learned of the scroll through other means, naturally, but when each had discovered the other knew of it, they instantly formed a bond that, over the last two years, had led to a close and trusted friendship.

“There’s more,” Anathema said, eyes dancing. “I looked up sacred scroll in her index, and the page it has listed is a separate page entirely, with no mention of a sacred scroll at all.”

“Which page?”

Anathema flipped the pages while Azira held the book for her. She stopped a third of the way further forward in the book, and pointed at a sketch of statue.

“I’m betting it’s some kind of coded location. But I haven’t worked out if it’s the picture or the words or both.”

“Good lord, Anathema. Are you sure it isn’t just a misprint?”

Anathema arched a cool eyebrow at him. “My mother never made mistakes. Not when it came to her study of Egypt. Never once.”

And, of course, she was right. Azira suggesting that the book was flawed was ludicrous. He had found firsthand accounts with less historical accuracy than the meticulously researched analysis he was now holding.

“Agnes Nutter, you sly devil,” Azira said, scanning the page Anathema had indicated. “You realize this means that not only did she know where the scroll was, or at least what happened to it—“

“—she also knew it was too dange—er, valuable, I mean—historically speaking—to let fall into the wrong hands.”

Azira was too lost in thought to chastise her near slip, though heaven knew what spies lurked in the stacks, just waiting for a crumb of information to fall.

“So it does exist,” he muttered to himself. “It does exist, and its location is knowable. It has been found at least once, and if it could be found by her…”

“It can be found by people other than us. Which could be bad.”

Azira tapped his lips, turning the puzzle over in his mind as he gazed at the page. “But where to start? We can’t go haring off into the desert without a proper destination in mind, my dear. We simply can’t afford it.”

“We could ask the Egypt Exploration Fund for an investment.”

“An investment for what? We’d need to tell them what we were looking for—”

“—the Macedonian spice route—”

“—as well as actually produce something of value upon our return. We can’t excavate a ghost, Anathema. No one would subsidize that.”

“On the contrary, brother,” boomed a voice from near the staircase about ten feet away from Azira and Anathema. “We may be able to come to some arrangement.”

Gabriel, patriarch of Azira’s extended family and, regrettably, Azira’s half-brother, approached their table with a jackal’s smile.

“What kind of arrangement?” Azira said with trepidation. He didn’t trust Gabriel any farther than he could throw him, family or no.

“Well, it just so happens Mother has a keen interest in the Byzantium-antiquities trade gaining momentum in the Mediterranean region.”

“What do tourist trinkets have to do with my research on the, er, the evolution of the gastronomical trade in the early Roman Empire?”

“I think your interests overlap quite nicely with the Foundation’s objectives in this case.”

The Foundation was the philanthropic arm of the White Dove evangelical organization Azira’s extended family had founded generations ago. It used monetary inducements to attract vulnerable populations into the fold, often at the price of sacrificing their cultural identity and heritage. That’s what had pushed Azira toward Egyptology and the study of antiquities in the first place. He wanted to protect the cultures and histories and identities of the people that White Dove’s Foundation tended to erase.

“What are the Foundation’s objectives, if I may?”

“Profit, of course. Profit that can then be turned to…charitable causes.”

“And by charitable, you mean missionary, I presume?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Don’t forget that a sizable donation from the Foundation helps maintain this academic institution you love so much.”

“You still haven’t said what it is you want me to do,” Azira reminded Gabriel as Anathema slowly closed her mother’s journal and eased backward to be half-hidden behind Azira. Smart girl.

“We need you to travel to Cairo and make inroads with the traders in antiquities. You have an eye for these things. You can tell when something is worth procuring.”

“And what do you intend to do with any relics I obtain?”

“Why, resell them, of course, at a price more fair for the discerning market,” Gabriel said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the mysteries of the pharaohs have caught the imagination of others in the empire, others who happen to have the benefit of deep pockets. And why not indulge their petty interests if it encourages them to give generously to God’s chosen causes? In exchange, you could mount your expedition for your gastronomical …. whatever ... in your spare time, with our resources and our blessing.”

Azira pursed his lips, on the verge of refusing Gabriel’s request, no matter the familial consequence to himself. He didn’t need Gabriel’s blessing to go about his life, nor did he want it. If he was ever given it, he’d have to immediately examine at length whether he wanted to continue doing whatever it was that Gabriel approved of. Azira wouldn’t go so far as to classify Gabriel as evil—he was Azira’s brother after all—but if not outright malicious, then he was something just this side of it.

The refusal hovered on Azira’s tongue, despite the small nudge of a pointy elbow in his back. Anathema clearly wanted him to take the deal. But it was hardly worth the burden of being under Gabriel’s thumb again. The last time Azira had been in a similar position, it had not gone well.

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about setting up an antiquities trade, Gabriel. How would I even find these so-called traders? How would I know I could trust them to deliver a bona fide artefact?”

“No worries on that score,” he said with false amiability. He took a black card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Azira. It simply read “Crowley,” with no address or number, only a snake sigil curled along the left-hand side. “This man is affiliated with a trusted business associate of mine. He’ll see to you, help you set up when you arrive.”

“And how do I find him, then?” Azira asked, agitated. “There are no details on this card.”

“Oh, he’ll find you,” Gabriel assured him. “Your accounts have been furnished with whatever funds you might need for travel and expenses.”

Guide or not, funding or not, Azira simply didn’t have the wherewithal to do what Gabriel was asking.

“Gabriel, I don’t think—“

Gabriel took that moment to lean into Azira’s personal space, looming over the shorter man with a deceptively mild expression.

“Listen, Sunshine. I may have understated things when I posed this as a request. You will do as I say, or I will be forced to withdraw my protection from you and my financial support from this fine academy. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Azira swallowed. Much as he’d regret the loss of the funds to the university, the larger threat lay in the euphemistic “withdraw my protection from you,” which meant far more sinister things than the words themselves invoked.

“I look forward to monitoring your progress,” Gabriel said with barely concealed contempt as he shook Azira’s hand and tipped his hat to Anathema. “And, as always, Godspeed.”

Then with a dramatic swirl of his argent coat, he took his leave.

Azira stared speechless after his brother. He hadn’t even agreed to go. But that was how White Dove, and its founding family, operated. No one was permitted to say no. Questions were forbidden unless strictly necessary. Only the most powerful family members were chosen to lead, and if those leaders dictated that something be done, it was done—end of conversation.

Azira had thought he’d escaped it by becoming an academic. For the last fifteen years, he’d managed to skirt most family engagements and nod politely at the ones he couldn’t avoid, until almost no one in the family even remembered he existed, but for the annual expense in the ledger with Oxford as the payee. Or so he’d thought. It appeared he was still very much on Gabriel’s mind, in the event that he might prove useful.

“Well, that was…something,” Anathema said, returning to her position by his side. “Is he always that pushy?”

“Most times, he’s worse,” Azira admitted glumly. Then he looked at the card in his hand, the snake sigil sending a thrill of foreboding down his spine. “Cairo.”

“Don’t look so downtrodden. This is exactly what we wanted,” Anathema said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm.

“It’s not the expedition that worries me,” Azira answered softly, tucking the card in his coat pocket. “It’s the demons we will owe when we return.”

Read Chapter 2 on AO3

Start at Chapter 1

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

29 peter nureyev?

Today, I re-listened to Angel of Brahma. Then I noticed that a few of mutuals had also re-listened to Angel of Brahma. You know what that means. 

It’s cry over Mag hours folks. 

29. “Now this, the thirtieth hat in my collection -”

I broke a little from the intended concept of the prompt, because my ideas got away from me. I love hats, I love Peter, and I love coming of age stories. This became a mix of all three. 

(send me a prompt)

It takes hours of whining, pleading, and fighting against all opposing arguments (”What if you were caught and executed by a laser? How could I live with myself?”), but eventually Mag agrees to let Peter steal something on his own. He comes back into their hideout triumphant, cheeks flushed, the prize clutched in his hands. 

“A hat?” 

“A great hat,” Peter corrects. Many of the businesspeople who come to Brahma stop at a cafe only a short highrail ride from their hideout, and all of them wear suits and hats like the one in his hands. Outfitted in a suit of his own, it was all too easy to blend into the crowd and snatch one without meriting a second glance. Mag chuckles.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Hang it in my room.” Peter tosses the hat into the air and catches it on his fingertips. “It’s a trophy. It’s my first heist!”

He’s twelve then; too short to reach the spot where he decides to hang the hat, too proud to let Mag do it for him. He drags over a chair and pounds a nail into the wall while Mag watches, nervous that he’ll hit his fingers. The hat hangs on his wall for three months. Then something goes wrong, they have to move, and it, along with everything else he owns, is left behind.

**

Louis Bisset wears a ridiculous hat. It’s shaped like a disc and perches at a precarious angle on top of his mess of red curls. When he’s painting, it sometimes flops down in front of his bright cornflower-blue eyes, and he’ll push it back up with the end of his brush. If his brow furrows, it dips lower, like a boat bobbing in the waves. He’s handsome when his brow furrows.

Peter’s smitten. 

“I’m in love,” he announces while Mag sits on the floor counting out stacks of creds.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He sighs and flops back onto the moth-eaten sofa that they found on the curb a few weeks ago. “I feel like... Mag, I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. I know I’m in love.”  

“Fascinating. What is this mysterious suitor’s name?”

“Louis,” he sings.

“Louis as a boy’s name, or a girl’s -”

“I’m don’t like girls!”

“Right, right. I knew that.” Mag sets down the cash and turns around. “So Louis the boy, then. How did you meet?” 

“Oh, we haven’t met.” Peter kicks one of his ankles against the ceiling. “He doesn’t know I exist. But I’ve seen him in the square every day and today I’m going to actually talk to him.” 

“Hmm.”

“And then he’ll see how in love with him I am, and then we’ll kiss and it will be perfect.” 

Mag doesn’t seem to share Peter’s excitement. “Hmm,” he says. “Are you sure this is safe, Pete? When you’re young, you feel lots of impulses that -”

“Oh god, Maaaag, you’re so embarrassing.” Peter grabs an apple and hops out the door. “Now I’m leaving to go confess my love. I’ll see you soon.”

Soon, it turns out, is early the next morning, when he crawls back through the window of their hideout holding a hat. The hat of a boy who admitted he had, in fact noticed Peter in the square. A boy who revealed AFTER everything was over that he would be leaving Brahma the next day. But here, he said, take this hay to remember me.

“Everything alright?” asks Mag. He’s sitting at the kitchen table across from the window; probably he knew Peter would come in that way. 

Peter slams the window shut. There are tears in his eyes. “No, it is not alright. He lied to me! I’m never going to love anyone again!”

“Now that’s a bit much.” 

“It isn’t! He took my heart and only gave me this stupid stupid hat and YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL!” He flings the hat down and storms off to his room in tears.

Peter’s thirteen, and this is the first time he’s cried since he was six. When he emerges from his bedroom to grab a bar of chocolate (chocolate fixes most problems), Mag has gotten rid of the hat. Peter never says it, but he’s grateful. He didn’t want to look at it a second longer. 

**

Pickpocketing. 

That was the crime. 

A girl, maybe two years older than Peter, with dirty clothes and a somehow goth black hat. She tried to rob him while he was walking back to the hideout, brandishing a knife as she shouted, “Give me your money!”. He could run, of course. He could probably take her in a fight, if it came to that. 

He didn’t get the chance. 

She planned it badly; he saw that immediately. There was a streetlight nearby. Her voice was too loud. When the laser fired from the sky above, it pierced neatly through her hat and clove down to the ground, and she toppled to the ground in two different pieces. 

Peter managed to make it home without screaming, but once he fell through the door of their hideout (not even risking the window) it all came out.

And now he’s been sitting here on the floor, shaking against the front of Mag’s tear-soaked jacket, like he’s a child again. 

“What if that happens to me?” he gasps. “What if that happens to you?” 

**

Three things change very dramatically very quickly.

First: he’s taller. Almost two feet taller. Taller than Mag. He trips over almost everything and he feels out of place and he can’t believe this is the cursed body he’ll have to contend with for the rest of his life, and also he can’t wear heels anymore.

Second: his voice is deeper. Smoother. It suits him, he thinks.

Third: his hair will suddenly not do anything he wants.

Combs get caught in the tangles and break. He tries to braid it back and the hair ties snap. Mag grabs a pair of shears, sits him down at the kitchen table, and lops it all off. Doesn’t work. Now it just has more angles to stick up at.

This is where the beanie comes in. He’s seen people around the streets wearing them, and they don’t fit his style exactly, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So, the next time Mag raids a department store, he grabs one for Peter and brings it home. It doesn’t erase his hair problems, but it does a good job of hiding them. He decides that’s good enough.

Peter decides to spite his ridiculous six feet and wear the heels anyway, and he thinks it makes him intimidating. He practices dozens of new accents and records himself saying them. He steals nine more beanies in different colors and matches them with his outfits.

He’s nearly fourteen, he’s a criminal, and he’s somehow still alive.

**

Mag knocks on the door while Peter is painting his nails. 

“Password?” 

“Come on, Pete-”

“Password?”

He hears a sigh from the other side of the door. “It’s ’Mag is an idiot.’”

“Correct. You may enter.” He holds up one manicured hand as Mag steps through the door. “Do I have time to do a second coat before we leave?”

“Probably not. You can do it when we get back.” 

“Alright, then. You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” They’ve been expanding their perimeter these past few days, hitting stores and banks a distance from their hideout to throw off the constables. Neither of them wants to move for what would be the fifth time this year. 

“You’ll see when we get there. But first -”

Mag has been holding his hands behind his back. Now he moves one forward and tosses something across the room - 

“A fedora?” Peter catches it in the hand without wet nails. “The fedora I was looking at earlier this week.” 

“Happy birthday.” 

He’s fourteen, and he’s been saying he’s too old to hug his father figure. Now he hops up and does it anyway. 

**

“The constables are employed by?” 

“The New Kinshasa government.”

“And they’re armed with?”

“A baton, a plasma knife, and two high-power laser pistols. Oh, and pepper spray.” 

“Very good, Pete. And they wear?”

“Black single-breasted jackets over black slacks with red stripes up the side - white for higher ranks.” 

“And?”

“And... damn. I know this.” 

“Take your time.”

“Flat caps! Red ones with black trim.”

“Excellent! I don’t think you’ve missed anything.” 

It’s still at least a year out, but already they’ve started planning for it - Mag’s great heist. The mission to take down New Kinshasa. 

The one that will make everyone remember his name. 

Mag sits down next to him and rustles his hair, mussing it into those sloppy angles it still goes back to sometimes. “I,” he says, and there is love in his eyes. “Am so proud of you, Peter.”

“Yes, yes, now stop getting sentimental, old man.” Peter rolls his eyes and ducks away. “We have more to go over! Are the caps wide brim or flat?”

They’ll all know his name.

**

The room is the color of the hat is the color of the blood on his hands and the blood on the body at his feet.

He makes it of the reactor room. Kills a constable, steals their uniform, and makes it out of the building. 

When he gets to the hideout, he doesn’t bother to climb in through the window. There’s nothing he can take with him that he couldn’t just steal on the way to wherever he’ll go next. Anyway, he has a fake ID in his pocket. He has a knife, and once he washes off the blood -

Once he washes off Mags’s blood - 

- then he can use it again. And he’ll have to. 

In the lining of his vest, he has a small roll of cash, a pack of cigarettes, and a book of matches. Now he pulls out the loose threads and grabs the latter of these. He doesn’t stick around to watch the hideout burn.

The boy that pulls the cap low over his face as he turns away is sixteen. 

The name he was before is turning to ash behind him. 

[blueishfood]

A life of Longing/Loving (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Anne Shirley x Gilbert Blythe, shirbert

Words: 2,2 K

Warning(s): Mentions of unwanted sex and/or a disturbing past, prostitution, violence, upcoming angst probably, (NOT SMUT)

Summary: Anne Shirley has worked at brothels for as long as she can remember. She has almost given up all hope, when a knight in shining armor appears, from beautiful Avonlea no less, claiming that she is the woman he will marry.

OR: Anne Shirley learns to experience real love while being extremely annoyed at Gilbert Blythe for no reason whatsoever (except for her pride).

A/N: This is my new AWAE fanfic (and my first!).

Teaser

Gilbert woke early. The sun shone brightly, and he had forgotten to close the drapes. His eyes fluttered at the light, and he rose, quickly pulling on pants and a shirt. The young man walked over to the washpot, broke the ice on top and scrubbed his face in the cold water. With a shutter, he dried himself with the cloth on his right.

The floorboards were cold, Gilbert grabbed the thickest pair of socks he owned and pulled them up past his ankles. He muttered a prayer to thank God for wool. Outside his door, someone shuffled about the kitchen. Gilbert closed his eyes for a second before he opened the door. This was going to be a long day.

Sebastian greeted his brother in everything but blood with a wide grin and Gilbert was quick to answer with his own. However, his smile looked rather bleak today. Bash noticed, after a few years living with Gilbert, they read each other like open books. Bash decided not to comment.

The scrambled eggs arrived before Gilberts tiered eyes before he sat down. “Straight from the mothers themselves.” Bash chuckled. Three chicks had hatched just yesterday and both farmers were now waiting anxiously for the frozen ground to thaw. Gilbert offered only a quiet hum of appreciation.

“Delly is sleeping soundly,” Bash shook his head fondly and continued; “Of course she would choose to sleep now after keeping me awake all night.” Gilbert smiled at the though of Delly. The darling had only just turned three months and was making more of a ruckus now than when she was just out of the womb. Sebastian hummed a slow tune as he fished up the toasted bread and butter.

“Mary is still asleep too.” Bash stated, as Gilbert stood to pour the milk. “Poor soul wasn’t allowed to go to bed until four in the morning.”

“Oh,” Gilbert said, “I wondered where she had gone to.” He bit into his eggs and sipped the milk.

“I think I’ll have to run to Mr. Jones to borrow a hammer today.” Gilbert sighed deeply. “I was thinking of starting on that broken fence.” He looked at Bash who seated himself across from Gilbert at the table. “Do we need borrow anything else? He’s always happy to help.”

“A hammer?” Bash repeated, drinking a whole glass of milk before eating anything, as he always did. “You’ll have to go further than that to get a hammer, boy. Jones broke his just last week.” Gilbert frowned as he thought the matter over.

“Charlottetown?” He asked, and Bash nodded.

“Afraid so.” Gilbert sighed again.

“Fine.” He muttered, “Anything you need? I might as well do some shopping when I’m there.” Gilbert scooped up the last of his eggs and toast.

“No, I don’t think so.” Bash looked behind Gilbert, as if he would find the answer floating in the air. “But, brother,” Gilbert stopped in his tracks from leaving the table and sat back down. Bash only called him brother when he was immensely happy or very concerned. “I’ve been hearing you sighing about all day, what’s the matter?” Gilbert almost laughed. Not at the question, maybe more at the answer he thought of.

“It’s really nothing important, Bash.” He stacked a few plates in his arms and put them in the sink. Bash protested at his vague answer, and Gilbert ran a hand over his face. He sighed again, pulled at his sleeve and sat down.

“I- well I-” Gilbert tried to make a sentence that wouldn’t sound as weird as the one he had formed in his head.

“Go on.”

“I want a wife.”

“What.”

Bashes voice was monotone. His eyes were wide, and he had dropped the fork he was previously holding, making eggs splatter on his shirt. Gilbert would have laughed at the sight if only he had been joking.

“I just long to… make a family of my own- I, yes, well of course I have you guys,” Gilbert glanced guiltily at Bash who was looking positively offended. “But I want my own children, a legacy, I don’t know why but there’s a voice inside me I just…”

“Gilbert, you’re barely twenty!” Bash stood so the bench behind him toppled to the floor. “You have your whole life before you, you don’t need to settle down!” Gilbert smiled awkwardly to his best friend.

“Well I know I don’t need to.” He smiled wistfully. “I want to.” Bash pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I have asked God, and-”

“You asked GOD?!” Bash shouted, once again rigid as a pole. “Gilbert!” He scolded, “Don’t you know when you ask, he delivers?” Bash paced back and forth on the floor, only barely avoiding stumbling on the fallen bench. “Mercy on us, in a week’s time we’ll have virgins of plenty breaking down your door…” Gilbert blushed down to the roots of his hair.

“Well that’s a bit-” Bash ignored him.

“Mary! Honey! I need help, Gilbert asked GOD-” Gilbert didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as Bash stormed down the hallway.

Silent as a mouse, Gilbert stepped in his shoes, shrugged on his jacket and put on his hat and escaped. The stable was quiet except for his horse who whinnied happily when Gilbert entered. He filled up the haystack outside her box and fastened her saddle. Silently he walked back inside through the backdoor and grabbed his wallet. He snickered as he heard Mary scolding Bash in annoyed whispers. Just as Gilbert led his mare out of the stable, he caught a glimpse of Sebastian, bursting out the front door. Gilbert jumped up on the horse and kicked her side lightly.

“Gilbert! Get back here!” Gilbert only waved and before long he was out of sight.

The trip to Charlottetown was a long one, and it felt longer since the last time he had travelled. Usually Bash or Mary did the shopping, they took mercy on poor Gilbert who had never been much of a socialiser. He didn’t mind people, he just minded the gossip more after his father died. All of Avonlea wondered what had become of the orphan boy who took to sea after the death of his family. Gilbert was sure some of Charlottetown knew about it as well.

Gilbert had never really announced his return. When he came back it was because of Bash. Together they worked the farm and helped Mary with Delly. Gilbert lived a generally good life. It wasn’t his fault that he sometimes felt lonely. He didn’t really need a wife, he knew that. Gilbert had always felt complete on his own, but he longed for companionship. In the evenings he would watch Mary lull Delly to sleep while Bash held them both, an adoring smile priding his features. Gilbert loved them. They were his family, how could he not? But when Gilbert went to his cold bed, he felt alone in ways he had never imagined he would.

Gilbert hadn’t been lying when he told Bash he had asked God. He had always known there was a special plan for his life. That, he believed, was the way of the world. He had never doubted he would feel fulfilled, and after receiving such a gift as Bash and his family, Gilbert hadn’t dared ask for more from his heavenly father. He hadn’t dared… until recently. He knew that it was asking of much, but his father had always said that a man’s highest duty was to his wife. Gilbert longed to know what that was like. So, he asked. It was a simple little prayer, and if He said no… Gilbert would back down. He would tell him his greatest thanks, nod his head and live… forever lonely.

Gilbert woke from his dream about hair of fire when the train stopped abruptly. “Last stop!” the conductor shouted, “Georgetown!” Gilbert shot up and out of his seat. The conductor looked at him and smiled,

“You quite alright sir?” He asked, picking up the hat Gilbert had dropped. Gilbert shook his head frantically.

“Did you mean to say Charlottetown, sir?” Gilbert asked, accepting his hat with a nod. The conductor laughed a bit.

“No, I’m afraid I meant Georgetown.” He gestured out the window and Gilbert could see a flurry of unknown buildings; they were smaller than the ones in Charlottetown. “If you’re looking to board the next train to Charlottetown, I’m afraid it leaves the station no earlier than four o’clock.” Gilbert sighed at the enlightenment, but thanked the conductor, nonetheless.

The train rolled off the tracks behind him and Gilbert was left standing on an empty platform.

He bought a hammer in the span of his first ten minutes in Georgetown. The next half hour, he tried to relax in a cold bar-chair. It was early in the morning so the only person occupying the bar other than himself was the bartender.

Gilbert sighed at his stupidity as he thought of the next five hours he would have to spend in this god-forsaken town. Georgetown was known on PEI for its dark neighbourhoods and frequent crime, but to Gilbert it seemed like any other sleepy town in the early morning.

“Is there anything interesting to do in this town?” He asked the bartender, who stopped in his tracks. The older gentleman turned around and slung the towel over his left shoulder.

“I don’t approve…” He looked searchingly into Gilberts eyes, “But if you’re looking for company, the Lonely Gentleman is right down the street.” He pointed out the direction. Gilbert drank the rest of his watered-out beer and stood.

“It’s a club?” He asked, pulling his cap down over his head. The bartender nodded slowly.

“Of sorts.” Gilbert nodded in thanks and left the bar to meet the chilly wind outside.

The drizzle in the air soaked Gilbert to the bone in minutes. He picked up the pace when he saw the light shining from the club the bartender had mentioned. It didn’t seem like a fancy club, but perhaps it still contained some interesting discussions he could participate in. He often saw elder men in Charlottetown engaged in political discussions in several small and private bars. He had never really thought of joining them, but now it seemed more desirable than the cold bar chair. Politics or, well, the arguing part of politics had always interested him anyways.

The moment he entered Gilbert felt like something was wrong. He made an awful decision and looked around. Never in his life had Gilbert felt more ashamed of himself. The room he was standing in was dark, the few lights cast a golden glow over the whole place. In plush red chairs sat men of all ages and races. Girls swarmed about the dimly lit room, tending to the men’s needs in the bare minimum of clothing. Sometimes in less.

Gilbert turned around as if he had gazed into the gates of hell. He pressed his forehead to the wall, and pulled his hair roughly.

“God give me strength.” He muttered.

Someone tapped his shoulder and Gilbert turned around slowly. She was scantily dressed; he could see bruises forming on her left shoulder.

“Do you need any assistance, sir?” her voice was calm and quaint. Gilbert shivered at the pleading he saw in her eyes. He made sure to keep his body from touching hers.

“Are you alright, miss?” he asked, keeping his eyes on her eyes or above. Her hair was long and light. She wore a pink ribbon that dipped out on the left side of her head. “Do you need to see a doctor about the –” Gilbert gestured to her shoulder. The girl covered it up quickly.

“No, I’m quite alright, sir.” The young girl glanced away. Gilbert recognized tears on the tips of her eyelashes and decided to push her further.

“Are you sure, because I have some connections I could-.” She placed a hand on his chest and smiled sweetly.

“I am fine, thank you sir.”

The air around him was dark with smoke. Gilbert caught a whiff of alcohol and decided he had seen quite enough for one day.

“Do you want a private room, sir?” The girl asked, she had not moved from her spot. Gilbert shook his head and carefully plucked her hands off his shoulders.

“No, but thank you, miss…?” The shy girl tugged at a pearl bracelet on her right arm. Gilbert forced his eyes to stay on her shoulder.

“Gillis, sir.” He nodded and quickly shook her hand.

“Goodbye then, miss Gillis.” Gilbert turned around and walked out the door.

The rain outside seemed to welcome him with cold arms. Gilbert almost cried with relief. What kind of wretched place would harm a soul such as miss Gillis? She seemed sweet. Kind. Considerate. Why would they…?

Gilbert didn’t finish his thought. The hair rose on the back of his neck as a bloodcurdling scream tore through the dark alley. A shiver ran down his spine. Gilbert spun around to look at the tall brick building he had just left and swore he heard a voice whisper;

“It’s her.”

[astudyingreer]

The Hands That Remember | Chapter One: Henrik (FULL)

*This novel is a Patreon-exclusive. The next chapters will be for Patrons only!

A novel about Henrik, and what made him who he is today. | Henrik is relaxing on his shift when a patient begins to exhibit strange, but eerily-similar symptoms. 

TW: Hospitals

--

The makeshift table in Henrik’s on-call room was a little too short for him—he sat on the footstool-chair bent like a caveman with his legs spread, leaning his elbows on his knees and his curls falling in his face. The stack of books that held the chessboard was only about a foot and a half off the ground, and very unstable, but it worked in a pinch.

Henrik’s dark eyes were impossibly focused on the board, watching every indecisive movement of Lena, one of the neurologists on his shift, sitting on the floor across from him. She leaned on one hand and hovered her other over the pieces, finally deciding on a rook and moving it four spaces.

“When do you think they’ll give you your table back?” she asked. Her hand moved involuntarily to steady the board as it rocked precariously on its book-stand.

“It was not really mine, I only borrowed it,” Henrik sighed. “But I hope it is soon. This is very inconvenient.” His nose scrunched in concentration, then he moved his own piece.

“You could just sit on the floor.”

“I do not think so.” Henrik exhaled deeply, sliding his fingers under his glasses to rub his aching eyes. He was an hour away from the end of his shift, and even though it was only ten o’clock he felt as if he could fall asleep right there. He couldn’t imagine how Lena was feeling—she was far more busy than him, but she never lost her optimistic energy.

Henrik steepled his hands, watching Lena bite her lip as she contemplated her next move. It took every ounce of strength not to point out the most prudent move her on her part—moving her knight to protect her bishop on the left side—but he stayed silent. They had been practicing that: keeping his mouth shut. Lena always said, “Don’t you want to win?” but he didn’t have the heart to tell her he would most likely win no matter how much help he gave her. He was very good at chess.

Finally she moved—unfortunately not the smartest move—and he quickly took one of her pawns, eliciting a soft groan of frustration from her. She sat up and crossed her legs, stretching her arms up and behind her.

“Why do you always shut yourself in here?” she finally asked. “Why don’t you just sleep? You’re obviously quite tired, honestly I don’t think I’ve met a doctor who doesn’t sleep every chance they get.”

Henrik chuckled. “I am not tired.”

“That’s a lot of bullshit.”

“Let me say that again,” Henrik noted. He drummed his fingers on his legs as he waited for her to take her turn. “I do not want to sleep.”

“What, you have nightmares or something?” she said with an easy chuckle, glancing up at him from the board. Then she sobered a little at his hesitation to reply.

“I do not have nightmares,” Henrik replied finally, shrugging his shoulders. “I just, ah… do better when I am busy.”

“They’re not going to let you operate if you’re exhausted, Henrik,” she pointed out, and her tone had grown more gentle. “You should take another nap soon, really. We can always finish this later.”

Henrik just shrugged again. “Perhaps.”

The game continued in silence, like it usually did. Thankfully Lena wasn’t a talker… much.

Henrik reached to move his piece and brushed the board, nearly toppling the entire set-up as it began to slip off the book. They both reached out to grab it with lightning speed, and Lena laughed.

“I can’t believe they took your table for the charity display,” Lena complained, though it was good-natured. “This sucks.”

“Again, it was not mine. And I think you are just bitter,” Henrik remarked. There was  a hint of smugness in his tone as he picked up his paper cup of cold coffee, taking a sip. “Because you are not as well at chess as I am.”

“‘Good.’”

“What?”

She shot him a smile, moving her piece with pointed confidence. “‘Not as good at chess as I am.’”

“Ah, fuck off,” he muttered, shaking his head. This only seemed to fuel her triumphant expression and she laughed, straightening her scrubs as she fell back into a comfortable slouch on the floor.

The door of the on-call room suddenly opened and they both looked up, seeing Marvin peek his head in with a strangely-guarded expression. His eyes met Henrik’s and wordlessly the surgeon stood up, picking up his coffee with him. It was best not to act first and ask questions later with Marvin—he was an elusive personality, very quiet and mysterious, but he had very good judgement.

“What’s up?” Lena asked, eyebrows knitting.

“I will be back,” Henrik told her, though it wasn’t much of an explanation. Quickly he slipped out the door, closing it behind him. He could already an odd tension in the air as he turned toward Marvin.

“It’s one of the patients,” Marvin said in a hushed tone, his bright eyes darting down the hallway. “You should take a look.”

“You should page a nurse for that,” Henrik told him, but Marvin quickly shook his head.

“No. No, you need to see for yourself.”

The pit began to open in Henrik’s stomach as he saw the solemnity of Marvin’s face—his friend was never worried, about anything at all, but now he seemed truly shaken. It was hard to repress the dread that was rising in his chest as he followed Marvin to the PACU.

They passed the occasional gurney or nurse in the hallways, but for the most part a strange stillness had fallen on the hospital. Usually Henrik’s liked this part of his shift, and probably would have enjoyed the quiet, but his mind was racing with all the different things that could have shaken Marvin this much.

Finally they came to a recovery room near the end of the hall, and Marvin checked for onlookers before quietly opening the door and slipping inside. Henrik followed.

The first thing that Henrik noticed in the room was that all the machines and monitors were off: there was no display, no fluid dripping through the IV, and no soft noises coming from the equipment. If this was not enough of a concern, the patient seemed unaffected—in fact, he was conscious, eyes open and trained on the ceiling from where he lay.

Instantly a chill came over Henrik. The patient’s eyes were open, but they were glassy and disoriented. His face was drawn, skin clammy and colorless, and he had kicked all the sheets off of his bed. When they entered, his eyes moved to them, though none of his other features even shifted. They bore right into Henrik, as if looking past him to the wall beyond and yet connected directly with his own eyes.

Fear had never been Henrik’s enemy. He had learned to manage, control it… push it down and prioritize rationality and levelheadedness. But the sight before him sent waves of needle-like prickles down his spine, and his skin felt as if it contracted against his muscles in hideous dread. The room seemed ten times more still than before.

“I have seen this before,” Henrik murmured. His mouth was suddenly very dry. “In… in Jameson.”

“I wasn’t sure, but I thought…” Marvin took a long breath. “I thought you would know.”

That… experience barely entered Henrik’s mind anymore—he had almost shut it out completely, as best he could, but now it was all coming back. That same glazed-over stare, the first day before it all began. The sleepless nights and violent episodes, all the suturing and recovery, the blood, the lies, oh god, the surgery…

That looming monster of complete incapacitation suddenly crept up the back of Henrik’s mind and he moved mechanically into action. “We need to get him off morphine immediately,” he began quietly, almost to himself. “He must be sedated—“

“Maybe I should just put him under,” Marvin suggested quietly.

That phrase sparked a reaction in Henrik and he turned quickly. “No. If he is not wake-able, and the doctors cannot explain it, it will raise too many question. We have to sedate him.”

“So what, you’re going to order sedatives for a guy that was successfully recovering from surgery half an hour ago?” Marvin urged, lowering his voice as someone passed close by outside the room. “This could be nothing.”

Henrik shook his head. His heart was pounding. “It is exactly the same—“

“Look at me, Henrik.”

Henrik complied, tearing his eyes away from the patient. Marvin reached out, grabbing his shoulder tightly with a very rare urgency.

“Whatever it is,” he said. “You won’t let what happened to Jameson happen to this guy. Hell, I won’t either. And you know what to do this time.”

Henrik shook his head wordlessly, biting his lower lip. “Why would be back…?”

“We can figure that out later. Just let me—“

Suddenly the room was filled with a cacophony of beeping and humming as all the equipment started back up at once. In the same instant the patient drew an even but heavy breath, his hands tightening into white-knuckled fists. His eyes regained their life and darted around in sleepy confusion until they fell on the two standing by the door.

“A-Are you the nurse?” he asked blearily.

Henrik felt his chest unravel. The breath he had been trying to draw whooshed into his lungs in an instant, and he looked to Marvin. His friend nodded, slipping out the door to find a nurse.

Henrik watched the patient with tentative dread, waiting for something to happen or go wrong, but it never came. The man only laid his head back down and closed his eyes in vague discomfort, his hand going to the fresh stitches at his side.

It had looked so similar. Exact. That look in his eyes, the sweating, the… deadness. It couldn’t have been nothing.

Maybe Lena was right. He did need sleep.

---

| Ko-Fi | Patreon |

[crystallized-shadow]

Day 15 Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word count: 883 Prompt:  “Stop hogging all the blankets!”

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

When Madara was younger he’d found a stray cat half dead on the side of the road one day. Forever an animal lover, to this day he still stood by the fact that animals were better than people, Madara had taken the cat home and slowly nursed it back to health. Against his parents wishes, he’d grown attached and the kept the cat as a pet, one of many strays Madara had taken in. He’d named the cat Tobi, because it was the only thing the ungrateful bastard ever responded to, and Tobi had accompanied Madara for a good portion of his life; through his awkward high school years, then college, and finally settling into his own house.

“I’m home!” Madara calls out as he walks into his house, he knew others thought it was weird since Madara lived alone with only a cat, but Madara liked to let his cat know he was home. He’s not surprised that Tobi doesn’t greet him at the door, the cat is ridiculously old at this point, given that he’s been with Madara for almost 20 years, that made Tobi at least 21 at the youngest which is pushing the upper limits for a cat. After changing out of his work clothes, Madara retreats to his living room and finds Tobi sleeping on a stack of blankets the little should could have made only by pulling every single blanket off the couch and chairs. “Tobi,” Madara sighs with a shooing motion, trying to pull at least one blanket out of the pile. The cat glares at him and digs his claws into the blankets. “Stop hogging all the blankets!”

Tobi flops in a way that can only be the cat equivalent of no and Madara grumbles under his breath and tugs one free, sending the whole pile toppling onto the white cat. Laughing at his asshole of a cat, Madara settles onto the couch with his hard-earned blanket and picks up the book he’s been reading. He barely has the book open before it’s suddenly knocked out of his hands as Tobi headbutts it, demanding attention.

“I hate you,” Madara grumbles even as he sets the book aside and scratches behind the cat’s ears. Tobi just purrs as he makes himself comfortable on Madara’s stomach. For a long time Tobi’s purring is all that can be heard, until Madara sighs and his petting falters. Tobi shifts and headbutts the human’s face, trying to ask what’s wrong.

“I’m lonely Tobi,” Madara admits with a far off look in his eyes, “Izuna reminded me I’m not getting any younger and I don’t want to die alone I should probably start looking for a partner.” A paw hits him in the chin and Madara chuckles as he resumes petting the needy cat. “You don’t count Tobi, you’re just cat that probably only has a few more years in him tops.” Tobi lets out an offended meow and then before Madara can blink there is a man draped over him instead of a cat; a pale man with white cat ears on his head and a white tail flicking lazily behind him. “WHAT. THE. FUCK!?!?!”

“Hello Madara,” the cat-in-human-form purrs, nuzzling Madara’s neck, “I’ve waited a long time to talk to you.”

“Oh god it finally happened,” Madara mutters to himself, flailing uselessly to get out from under the other man, “I’ve gone mad! I thought Izu was kidding when he said I was going to snap today that bastard.” The prick of fangs over his jugular has Madara going rigid, his jaw snapping shut to keep himself from making anymore noises and getting bitten.

“Are you quite done?” Tobi asks, shifting so he can meet Madara’ gaze, “this is all very real.”

“What are you?”

“First off, my name is Tobirama, not Tobi, I detest that nickname,” Tobirama states and Madara blinks in surprise and just nods dumbly, “and I’m a cat demon from the Senju Pride.”

“The what…?” Madara questions, deciding to just play along with this hallucination or mental break or whatever the fuck was going on.

“The Senju Pride,” Tobirama repeats with a smirk that is unfairly attractive, “a pride is a large group of cats, you should know that.”

“Fuck you!” Madara huffs, deciding his hallucination is an asshole.

“I’ve seen you in the bedroom,” Tobirama purrs, smirking wide enough to show off his fangs, “I’d been the one fucking you.”

“You…you watched me…?” Madara mutters, his eyes wide as his blushes as red as Tobirama’s eyes, “you’re such an ass!!”

“You’ve been saying that for 20 years,” Tobirama chuckles with a shrug, “I’ve never claimed to be otherwise.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” the cat demon grins, nuzzling Madara’s cheek, “now pet me human.”

“You really are Tobi…” Madara chuckles a bit manically, as he scratches behind the man’s ears, earning a purr. They lapse into an easy silence, Madara still questioning his sanity, before Tobirama sits up enough so he can look the human in the eyes.

“And Madara?” He begins, getting a questioning hum from Madara, “next time you want to play with that fake ridged cock, feel free to use mine instead.”

“YOU ASS!!!” Madara roars, springing to his feet as Tobirama bolts, chasing the cat demon around his house.

[narutostuff101]

Your story was so cute when Temari left her boys to go see her brothers. Little Shikadai is so cute! I was wondering could you make a follow up story. Idk maybe when she comes back and little Shikadai is all happy. Or maybe a story where Temari shows the baby pictures to Kankuro and Gaara. I mean come on. Her baby is adorable!

Hey, thanks for the feedback! 😄 Yes! I know! Baby Shikadai is so adorable and I love him to death. XD I really like your  second idea anon so I decided to write it down. It wasn’t meant to me this long but Idk. Haha. This would also be my first Sand sibs story so please bear with me if it’s not good 🙏 

Enjoy, a sequel to Going away

Temari visits Suna (lol I couldn’t think of a lamer title?) 

The arid and sunburnt barren land of Sunagakure; eternal desert stretching for miles and miles. The intense sun blazes down on this harsh yet amazingly beautiful wilderness of red rocks, the incredible feeling of being the only person with a heart beating within miles sets in.

The landscape never changes, it stays the same; no wind, no rain, just stale raw air. Inconceivable formations of canyons and immense rock structures set in the distance, circling the desert. Every time her eyes wander back to study the distant rocky landscape it seems as if it were merely a projection onto the horizon. It almost feels unreal. 

Temari had been travelling at a fast pace for nearly three days, following a route that she had gone back and forth countless of times prior to migrating to Konoha. The harsh sun beating down on her, did nothing to dampen her excitement and enthusiasm to meet her brothers; to breathe the air of her homeland once more. She was almost there; she could see the the single cleft between the two cliff faces, that was the lone passage in and out of the village hidden in the Sand. Her heart was beating fast with rush of adrenaline and she didn’t need a mirror to know how wide her smile was. 

She was home.

***

“So, how long you’re staying?” Kankuro asked as they walked along the corridor towards Kazekage’s office. Kankuro had been the one to unceremoniously greet her at the village’s entrance, with “You look out of breath,” being the first thing her cheeky brother had said to her. It was their usual way of greeting, there was no need for formalities like bowing heads or hugging, and she preferred it that way. 

“Just a couple of days.” She told him. Her visit was meant to be short since she needed to go home within a week and the fact that the journey home would take another 3 days at the very least did not help at all. As much as she wanted to stay longer, she could not allow her herself such liberty. 

“What’s the rush?” Kankuro smirked, “Can’t stay away too long from Shikamaru huh?” He teased. 

Temari rolled her eyes and punched her brother on the shoulder lightly. “I have a baby to look after.” 

Kankuro burst out laughing at her reply, “Look at you sis! A worried mom! To think I’d live to see this day.” He wiped his wet eye from all the laughter. Once again, Temari rolled her eyes. 

“When will you ever change?” She asked exasperatedly, though she was smiling. Even if she had said that, she actually did not want Kankuro to change his care-free personality. Her dorky brother’s teasings made her recollect the memories of their usual day-to-day siblings banter in the past, with Gaara silently watching over, a small grin plastered on his face. She missed those times. 

They reached Gaara’s office and Temari was hit with a blow of nostalgia, recalling her days as Gaara’s assistant, going through that door every few hours to check on her brother. Without bothering to knock, Kankuro turned the door knob to enter.

“Gaara! Guess who I found on the way here?” He announced in a sing-song voice, as the door swung open to reveal a vast office with shelves of books against it’s walls and a neat sofa set at the corner. The office was rather plain-looking with only a few pots of cacti serving as decorations. In the middle of the room, was a large desk that was covered with high stacks of paper everywhere and they looked like they could topple at any moment. Behind the desk, sat a red-haired man who raised his head from his work when they entered. Her brother looked like he was brutally deprived of sleep but was still smiling gently nevertheless. 

“Temari…” Gaara stood up from his chair and approached her. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He told her pleasantly. As opposed to Kankuro, her youngest brother was a mild-mannered man who spoke to her with extreme politeness. She thought that Kankuro should learn a thing or two from him. 

“It’s great to be back.” She told him. Her eyes wondered around, taking in the appearance of the room, noting that it hadn’t changed at all since she left. “God, I missed this place,” she muttered. 

Behind her, Kankuro snorted. “But not as much as missing baby Shikadai ‘ight?” 

Temari ignored that comment and walked towards the sofa. She slipped her bag off her shoulders to search for the photo album; the main purpose of her visit.

“Speaking of Shikadai…,” She found the photo album and took it out, lifting it up for her brothers to see, “I’ve got something to show the two of you.”

Kankuro was the first to react; he eagerly went over to join her at the sofa and attempted to snatch the album from her hands. But Temari slapped his hands away, glaring at him.

“Wait will you? I haven’t finished talking.” She scolded him. Kankuro scowled, rubbing his hands.

“What is that?” Gaara asked, eyeing the book in her hand. Temari grinned at them. 

“This,” she held up the photo album, “is a compilation of Shikadai’s baby pictures that I have made, for you two to see.” She flopped herself onto the sofa, making herself comfortable.

“Really?” Kankuro asked enthusiastically, his eyes gleamed in delight. Even Gaara broke into a huge smile, his eyes softening at the mention of his beloved nephew. 

Her brothers hurried over her side, leaning forwards as Temari flipped the book open to the first page which contained a big photo of a newborn Shikadai wrapped in a green blanket. Temari had written a short caption under every photo and although it had taken a lot of time to make this, Temari thought it was the least she could do to make her brothers happy. Besides, it was an enjoyable activity to look through photos of her family. 

“Isn’t that the blanket that I gave him, Temari?” Kankuro asked, his voice laced with excitement. 

“Yup. He still keeps it with him these days.” She told him and Kankuro flushed with happiness. “Is that so?” He laughed, scratching the side of his face.

The following pages had more smaller-sized photos of her baby. Gaara pointed out the photo of him holding Shikadai in his arms. He smiled gently, probably reminiscing about how he had struggled to hold Shikadai for the first time. Temari remembered that day quite well; while Kankuro had been eager to hold his newborn nephew, Gaara on the other hand had been very nervous and had needed some encouragement from Shikamaru and Temari. Thinking about it now, Temari thought it was a nice memory. 

“He’s so tiny!” Kankuro exclaimed in disbelief. He folded his arms as if he was holding a baby, his face with wonderment. “I mean, he was like this small,” he used two fingers to prove his point, showing a ridiculous measurement of 3 inches for a baby, “and now he’s like —,” he extended in arms way too much, “—this big.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was never that small.” Temari said, half-amused. “And he’s not that big either.” 

They continued to look through the photo album, with Kankuro gushing over every few cute pictures of Shikadai and even Gaara occasionally commenting on his nephew growth, his smile never leaving his face. 

“This was the first time he spoke a word.” Temari told them as she pointed at the photo of Shikadai in her husband’s arms. 

“Was his first word ‘troublesome’?” Kankuro quipped earning him yet another eye-roll from Temari.

“Of course it wasn’t! It was ‘mama’,” she said smugly. “If it had been ‘troublesome’, I’d have choked that Shikamaru to death.” She added darkly. 

Time flew by quickly and much to Kankuro’s (and Gaara’s) disappointment, they finished looking at every picture in the album. 

“That’s it? Ahh, I wanted to see more.” The older of the two brothers said, crestfallen. 

Temari smirked. “Here.” She thrusted the book into Kankuro’s hands, and he gave her a perplexed look. “Keep it,” She said with a soft smile, her eyes shining brightly. 

“Are you sure, Temari?” Gaara asked tentatively, looking unsure. Temari nodded, “Yup. I actually made it specially for my brothers to keep.”

Their eyes widened in surprise. “Thanks, Temari!” Kankuro said earnestly. Gaara bowed his head slightly and thanked her as well. He then stood up. 

“I have to go now. I need to attend a meeting with the council.” He said somewhat bitterly. “Please get some rest anne-san. You’ve had a long journey.” 

“No, don’t worry about that.” Temari assured him. “I’m not going to waste my time here sleeping.” She said rather haughtily. 

“Haha! Coz there’s no Shikamaru for you to sleep with fufu~” Kankuro snickered, his eyes full of mischief. Her eyebrows twitched in annoyance and her eyes flared. Next thing he knew, Temari had grabbed him by the collar and was shaking him, not-too-gently back and forth.

“What did you say?! That’s enough out of you, Kankuro!” She said through gritted teeth and Kankuro begged for her to stop. Gaara looked over at the ever so familiar scene taking place in front of him. He chuckled, and Temari gave him a threatening glare. 

“What?!” She demanded.

Gaara turned his back on his siblings and murmured, “Nothing… I’ll be back.” He walked over to his desk to gather a few files, tucked them under his arm and made his way to the door. Gaara paused for a moment, glancing back at his sister with a pure smile that touched her heart, and said:

“Welcome back, Temari.” 

The End

A/N: Yes, well thank you for reading. Oh and about the Temari and Mirai fanfic, I might take a longer time to write it. Like a really long time. I had an idea of what to write, but then it figured it wasn’t very interesting. So, I’m back to square one until I can come up with a better idea on what to write. Kudos everyone! 

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 23)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.3k story words: 183.6k (so far) chapter: 23/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: @auroraphilealis is an amazing cheerleader and there are definitely a few bits of this chapter that i would have pushed a bit less if it weren’t for her comments of “PLEASE. PLEASEEEEE. KATTTTTTT.” lol. and also she’s a great friend and i’m glad y’all knew who to turn to when my blog randomly disappeared 

It was half past six when Dan finally made it to Louise’s doorstep, two bags tucked precariously under his arms, his hands shoved in his pockets to protect them from the unexpectedly freezing March air. He was half an hour late and, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

Just as Phil had suggested, they’d spent the majority of the day in bed. And by mid afternoon, not only did they need another washing, but the guest bedroom duvet was so thoroughly defiled that Dan was pretty sure he was better off just ordering a new one. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to let his family — or Darcy — sleep under it again without blushing and feeling horrendously guilty.

And fuck, getting out of bed, untangling himself from Phil and forcing himself to be a proper adult tonight had been nearly impossible. They’d had to shower again, and Dan felt like he deserved a bloody award for not blowing Phil again. He just looked fucking gorgeous wet and soapy and — fuck.

Dan cut off his own train of thought before he could get carried away. If his standing dinner date with Louise and Darcy wasn’t such a high priority in his life, if he wasn’t so determined to never be the person that got a partner and bailed on their friends… well. He would have taken a bath with Phil, instead.

Refocusing, Dan awkwardly kicked at the bottom of the door in lieu of knocking. It was too cold to draw his hands out of his pockets and, plus, he was convinced he’d drop something if he tried.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds after Dan had knocked for the door to fly open, and it was accompanied by a reprimand of Daniel James Howell, where have you been?

Louise’s eyes were narrowed and she was smirking slightly as she stared at Dan. As her eyes scanned slowly up and down Dan’s body, he couldn’t help ducking his chin a little further into his bulky knit scarf. The bags under Dan’s arms shifted precariously, threatening to topple to the ground.

Before he could drop everything — including their dinner — Louise caught the bags. She peered inside, first looking at the massive bag of food, then the smaller gift bag from the toy store.

“Is this for Darcy?” Louise asked suspiciously as she stood firmly in the doorway, looking like she wasn’t planning to let him in unless he explained himself.

Dan scrunched his shoulders even farther up and nodded, sidestepping around her and weaseling his way into her home. He shot Louise a triumphant smile, to which she merely rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to spoil her rotten, you know,” she said, shaking her head fondly and closing the door with her bum.

“Too late.” Dan shrugged, unzipping his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. “Besides, the gift is as much for you as it is for her.” Dan glanced up through his eyelashes, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming.

Brows furrowed, Louise examined the boutique toy store bag more closely. “How exactly?”

“Well,” Dan started cryptically, barely biting back a wide smirk. “I’m anticipating you wanting a way to keep her busy for awhile after dinner, and I figured a new toy would do nicely.”

Louise’s head cocked, her forehead wrinkling up in confusion. “Wha…?”

Dan unwrapped his scarf with a cheeky grin and a pointed stare. For a second, Louise didn’t respond — not until her eyes drifted from Dan’s face to his neck, anyway.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, voice high and squeaky. “What happened?”

Dan instinctively trailed his fingers over his neck, the light pressure aggravating the deep purple bruises on the tender skin ever so slightly.

“I’ll give you one guess.” Dan answered with a cheeky wink, his tongue pushing at his bottom him.

“Was it Phil?” Louise gasped, sounding hopeful. “Please tell me it was Phil.”

“You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out!” Dan teased. He grabbed the bag of food from Louise and made to turn around.

“I swear to god, I will book your next interview for seven in the morning if you don’t tell me this second,” Louise threatened before he could take so much as two steps away.

Dan laughed loudly, his dimples surely showing. “Of course it was Phil, you buffoon.” Without waiting to see Louise’s reaction, Dan headed down the hallway to the kitchen. “Details after dinner. I’m starved, barely eaten all day.”

Groaning, Louise hurried to follow behind him.

“You’re such a saucy tease,” she complained when she caught up to him.

“You love me anyway,” Dan teased back with a smirk.

In the kitchen, Dan sat the bag of food down on the counter. “I got everything ready since you were late,” Louise scolded playfully.

Sure enough, there was already a stack of plates and silverware on the counter, so Dan set about unpacking the food and lining the containers up in neat row. He left the frankly ridiculous amount of dips in the bag — they’d be easier to transport to the table that way.

“Darcy!” Dan called in a high, singsong voice. He was surprised that she wasn’t already around; she usually followed Louise to the door.

The pitter-patter of socked feet running down the hallway was Dan’s only warning before Darcy was suddenly sliding into him and hugging onto his thighs.

“You’re late, Uncle Dan!” she scolded cutely.

Jesus, like mother like daughter.

“Sorry, Darce,” Dan apologized. “Look, I brought you a present, though!”

“Ooooooh!” Darcy quickly withdrew from Dan and raised up on her tiptoes to try to get the bag off the counter.

“Ah ah ha!” Dan pushed the present back, out of the reach of her tiny hands. “You can have it after dinner,” he promised.

Louise narrowed her eyes, but Dan could see her lips itching to quirk up into a smile. “You’re enjoying making us both suffer, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” Dan flashed her a smug smile. “I had to wait months for this to happen, you can wait to hear about it until we’ve eaten.”

Louise grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like you suck beneath her breath, but nonetheless turned her attention to fixing up their plates for dinner. Using the plastic spoons that had come with the take out, Louise scooped bits from each container onto their plates.

For his part, Dan took the dips to the table, taking them out of the bag and organizing them into a line in the middle for ease of access..

Doing her best to be helpful, Darcy trailed after Dan, knelt on a chair, and started prying the lids off the sauces as Dan put them down. Twice, she nearly spilled the entire container of dip, either by bumping one or wrestling with the lid too fiercely, but each time Dan was able to right the container before it could spill all over Louise’s pink tablecloth. And despite Dan’s attempts to keep the dips in neat order, Darcy was dropping them back onto the table randomly once she’d gotten the lids off. There was no point in fixing them, though; they’d probably just get out of line again.

Dan and Darcy had only just finished up, with Dan settling Darcy properly into her seat, when Louise walked over.

“I’ve got our food, but can you grab Darcy’s?” Two plates piled high with food, and the water pitcher were already precariously balanced in her hands.

“No problem.” Turning around, Dan headed back into the kitchen to grab the last plate and the silverware, before returning to Darcy and Louise’s sides.

“Mummy do I have to wait until after dinner for Uncle Dan’s present?” Darcy pouted, her fork and spoon still steadfastly on the table.

Louise flashed Dan a quick glare. “Unfortunately, sweetie. Uncle Dan is being a meanie tonight, but maybe if you eat quickly you can have it sooner.”

Louise settled in her chair and immediately picked up her spoon, digging into the Indian food in front of her. Darcy followed suit, saying absolutely nothing but taking far too big of a bite for her small mouth to handle. Evidently they were both eager to get through the eating portion of the evening. Normally, their dinners were chatty and long, but neither of them seemed inclined to make conversation tonight.

Sure, Dan got why they were so anxious to finish their food, and okay, it was kind of his fault. But their weekly dinners were his time to catch up with Louise with absolutely no work talk, and when he was bound to hear all of Darcy’s six year old gossip. When he’d loomed presents and a hot story over their heads, he hadn’t exactly expected them to stop talking entirely.

“So,” Dan started when it became evident that neither Louise nor Darcy were going to talk. “Adaline said to tell you both hello and that she was sad she didn’t get a chance to see you.”

“That’s nice of her, she’ll have to stay longer next time.” Louise took another bite, speaking through her food. “How’d she like Germany?”

“She loved it. I’d never had the chance to travel with just her, like, without our parents, so we got to hang out in a different way. I feel like I got to see a different side of her.”

Louise glanced up between bites. “That’s fantastic. What did you two do?”

“I let her decide, for the most part. On Sunday, we got completely—” Dan’s eyes flickered to Darcy, who was staring curiously at Dan. “Um, we went to a biergarden.”

“Ooooh,” Louise cooed around a mouthful of rice. “How was that?”

“Great! We both had one of those pretzels, you know the ones that —”

“Uncle Dan?” Darcy cut in. “What happened to your throat?”

Oh fuck.

Dan felt his heart come to a crashing halt, and his hand flew up to cover his neck, even though it was clearly too late. The damage was done.

“Uh, nothing Darcy. It’s fine.” Dan tried to keep his voice neutral, but he sounded shaky even to his own ears.

“Nuh uhhh,” Darcy whined in protest. “You’ve got brwuises. How did you get hurt there?” Darcy stood up on her chair, dramatically poking Dan’s neck.

“I, uh...” Desperately, Dan looked to Louise for help, but she was smirking at Dan, her expression filled with mirth.

“Yeah, Dan. Tell us, how did you get hurt, hmm?” Louise teased. In any other situation, Louise would be scolding Darcy, would be ordering her to put her bum back on the chair, but no. Not tonight. Tonight, Louise was taking no mercy on Dan.

Dan shot Louise a look that he hoped said fuck you.

“I, um, burned myself with my straightener.”

“But your hair is curly,” Darcy pointed out, looking confused.

“And you haven’t straightened your hair in years,” Louise supplied unhelpfully.

Dan felt himself sinking further and further into his seat, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. Why the hell had he used that as his excuse?

“Well, I, um, thought it would be fun to do for, uh, old time’s sake.” The grave was just getting deeper and deeper, and the words were coming out of Dan’s mouth before he fully had time to process what he was saying. “I stopped when I burnt myself though. Figured it was best to not risk it.” Dan awkwardly chuckled, hoping Darcy would drop it.

She didn’t.

“But why did you burn both sides of your neck?” Darcy pushed.

Fucking hell, this child…

There was no getting out of this gracefully, Dan was certain of that. Better to just abort.

“Why don’t you eat so you can have your present sooner, yeah?” Dan took a pointed, massive bite of his food and refused to look up at either of them.

He heard a grumbled fine, and the soft rustling of Darcy settling down. When he glanced back up, Darcy was seated again and was studiously chewing her food. A quick look at Louise proved that she was just as fixated on her meal as her daughter.

With a sigh, Dan gave in. Apparently tonight just wasn’t going to be a talkative dinner.

They ate in silence, both Darcy and Louise cleared their plates much faster than Dan.

“I’m finished!” Darcy said the moment she’d finished her food, and primly sat her napkin on the table before looking at Dan expectantly.

“Okay, okay,” he relented. It’s not like they were getting anything out of sitting around the table tonight, anyway. Dan dropped his fork onto his half-full plate and tipped his chair backward. He just managed to swipe the present off the counter and right his chair, gravity very nearly pulling him all the way to the floor. “Here you go,” Dan said with a smile when his chair was righted again.

“Yayyy!” Darcy crawled up on her chair and sat on her knees in excitement, making small grabby hands at Dan.

Dan chuckled and passed her the bag.

Darcy didn’t waste any time; the second the bag was in front of her, she was pulling the tissue paper out and diving in, pulling out the box inside.

“Makeup!” Darcy cried excitedly as she inspected the products displayed in the box. Smiling fondly, Dan watched as her tiny fingers ran across the plastic holding the makeup in, her face awestruck. “Can I do your makeup, Uncle Dan? Please please please please please?”

Dan’s gaze flickered to Louise. He could tell she was impatient to talk about Phil — and, undoubtedly, what the marks on his neck meant — but Darcy was too cute, too eager, to deny.

“Of course,” Dan agreed. He pushed his unfinished plate of food away; he could eat the rest later. “Let’s go do it in the loo.”

A small huff from Louise caught Dan’s attention, and he looked up to find her opening and closing her mouth aimlessly. She looked like she was torn between wanting to interrupt them, and letting Dan have time with Darcy.

“Wait!” Louise interrupted. “You can only do his makeup if you promise to play by yourself for a while afterwards so Mummy can talk to Uncle Dan,” she finally said, giving in.

“Okay!” Darcy grabbed Dan’s hand immediately, her small fingers barely wrapping around his palm. With all the force that her six-year-old body was capable of, Darcy dragged Dan into the bathroom and pushed him down on the edge of the tub.

She thrust the box of makeup into his hands. “Can you open it, please?”

“No problem.” Dan set about opening the children’s makeup kit, taking the various eyeshadows, blushes, and lipsticks from the plastic and placing them on the ground next to them. “What color are you going to give me for my eyes?”

“Hmmm…” Darcy studied the powders before picking up a hot pink product that Dan was fairly certain was actually blush. “This one!”

“That looks great, I love it.” Dan smiled, quietly proud of Darcy for not picking out the bright blue shadow because it was a boy’s color.

“Close your eyes,” Darcy ordered as she rubbed one of the brushes — a brush far too big for eyeshadow — in the powder.

Dan obediently closed his eyes, just seconds before the brush made contact with his eyelid. Darcy’s hands were clumsy and her fine motor skills were still kind of shit. If the feeling was anything to go by, Dan’s entire eyelids — and probably his eyebrows — were going to be bright pink.

The soft sweeping of the brush stopped. “Okay, open.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open, and he could feel some of the loose powder falling off his eyes and land on his cheeks. Oh well, there was probably going to be plenty more color on his face by the time Darcy was done; a bit of hot pink dust wasn’t going to matter.

“Are you going to put something on my cheeks?” Dan asked, looking at the other blush options.

“Yes!” Much to Dan’s amusement, she didn’t go for of the blushes, though. Instead, she picked up an eyeshadow.

A bright purple eyeshadow.

That was going to look great on his cheeks.

Whatever, she was doing what she wanted to do, and besides, rules were stupid and arbitrary. If she wanted to use purple powder that was technically meant for eyes on his cheeks, what did it matter?

Darcy squished the same brush into the purple powder, absolutely covering the brush in the stuff, and brought it up to Dan’s cheeks. Just like his eyes, she completely failed to contain the product to the appropriate region. The brush swept all over Dan’s cheeks, all the way from his cheek bones down to his mouth. Lovely.

“Lipstick!” Darcy exclaimed, dropping the brush onto the ledge and fumbling with the different lipstick options. She settled on a bright, pumpkin orange option. “Go like this,” she commanded before scrunching her lips up into a kissy pout.

Dan mimicked her, loosening his lips a little like Louise has made him do when she’s put lipstick on him in the past. Hand shaking slightly, Darcy brought the lipstick up to Dan’s mouth and smeared it on, definitely getting a lot of it around Dan’s mouth, in addition to on it.

“You’re done!” Darcy dropped the lipstick and grabbed Dan’s hand, pulling him over to the mirror so he could see her work. “Do you like it, Uncle Dan?”

Frankly, it was a complete mess. Dan could tell while she was putting it on that it was probably all over his face, but, if anything, he’d underestimated just how much of a mess it was. His eyebrows were completely caked in the hot pink powder, and his cheeks had messy, massive purple circles. And his mouth, jesus, his mouth was absolutely covered in the orange lipstick. It didn’t help that the makeup kit was designed for kids — meaning that the colors were all much brighter than adult makeup.

“I love it, Darce,” Dan gushed loudly. And, really, despite how ridiculous he looked, Dan really did love it. In the past, he’d really only messed around with concealer and mascara, but having so much makeup on his face kind of made Dan want to explore it properly. To see what blush and eyeshadow and lipstick would all look like if they were applied neatly.

And spending time with Darcy had been good too; it’d been too long since they’d had quality time together and they’d both had fun doing it.

“Come on, come on, let’s go show Mummy!” Darcy ran out of the bathroom, running ahead of Dan to the lounge. Dan chuckled, remembering when he’d once had that much energy. Like one time. Back when he was eight.

“Mummy, Mummy! Look at Dan! He looks like a princess!” Darcy was shouting. As Dan turned the corner, he found that she was tugging on Louise’s arm. Louise twisted around on the sofa to turn her attention to Dan, who was hovering impishly in the doorway. Louise’s eyes grew wide, and she was smiling with her lips clamped together; Dan knew her well enough to know that she was just barely biting back laughter — years of friendship filled with awkward and embarrassing moments had taught him to recognize that face.

“He looks beautiful!” Laughter was bubbling up, threatening to completely disrupt Louise’s sentence. Luckily, Darcy didn’t seem to notice her mum’s amusement.

“I wanna do mine now!” Darcy cheered, already running back towards the door. “When I’m done, can I do yours, Mummy?”

“Um, Mummy has to…” Louise started, trailing off. Dan could see the reluctance on Louise’s face — she undoubtedly didn’t want to have to halt her conversation with Dan so that Darcy could spend half an hour making her look like Dan.

Louise glanced at the clock and shifted tactics. “After you’re done with yours, I think it will be reading time before bed. You can do mine tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Darcy agreed as she scampered off back to the loo, brushing passed Dan on her way out of the lounge.

When Darcy was out of earshot, Louise turned to Dan, repressed laughter finally bubbling out. “Let me get you a makeup wipe. There’s no way I can take you seriously looking like that.”

Dan glanced behind him towards where Darcy had run off to, a frown pulling at his lips. “Darcy will be sad if she comes back in here and I’ve taken it off,” he said, concerned that he might hurt Darcy’s feelings. “I’ll take it off when she’s gone to bed.” Dan crossed the room, solidifying his resolve to leave the outrageous makeup on for a while.

Louise sighed and shook her head, but she scooched over on the sofa to make room for Dan anyway. “You’re too good of an uncle sometimes. It’s bloody annoying.”

“You love it and you know it.” Dan plopped down on the couch, immediately curling up. He eyed the coffee table and was surprised to see nothing on it. “I was hoping you’d pour us some wine. Hot gossip demands wine, you know.”

Louise’s gaze followed Dan’s, and her eyes light up with recognition. “Oops, I knew I was forgetting something. Hang on, I’ll be just a tick.” Louise stood up and made her way to the kitchen.

While Dan was waiting for Louise to come back, he took a quick selfie to send to Phil. Well, he took more like eight selfies, each one featuring a slightly different pout and angle. Quickly scanning the options, Dan picked the best one and attached it to a message to Phil.

Dan [7:49PM]: would you still take me on a nice date if you showed up and i looked like this

Phil’s response came faster than Dan had been anticipating — before Louise got back with the wine even. Three messages came in rapid succession, new ones appearing before Dan could even get chance to start typing.

Phil [7:51PM]: Oh my god you look hilarious

Phil [7:51PM]: What happened? Darcy?

Phil [7:52PM]: And of course I’d still take you on a date, but I don’t know if Hutong would appreciate it.

Dan’s jaw dropped at the mention of Hutong. When Phil had said he would take Dan somewhere nice, Dan hadn’t exactly anticipated having a date at the bloody Shard. From what he’d seen of pictures online, Dan knew the restaurant was beautiful, and had a stunning view. He’d seen reviews, too — he knew the food was supposed to be phenomenal, but pricey as all hell.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He hadn’t expected Phil to go all fucking out for their first date. Jesus on a fucking tricycle. Dan took a few steadying breaths and typed what he hoped counted as a calm response.

Dan [7:54PM]: hutong? fancy fancy. i guess i’ll skip the bright purple cheeks then

Louise came back with two overfilled glasses of red wine, as well as the rest of the bottle, before Dan could explain why he looked like this to Phil. Passing Dan one of the glasses, Louise sat on the opposite end of the couch and faced Dan.

“Okay, spill,” she demanded.

Lips pulling into a wide smile, Dan found himself lost for what to say. There weren’t enough words in the english language to describe how fucking happy he was, how amazing last night — and this morning — had been. Absentmindedly, Dan spun the stemless wine glass between his palms while he searched for words, careful not to actually spill on Louise’s white sofa. “I don’t even know where to start,” he eventually admitted.

Louise smiled sympathetically, seeming to realize that Dan wasn’t just trying to make her wait longer. Taking mercy on him, Louise prompted Dan with something specific to talk about. “You said you were going to go to B ‘n G last night. Start there.”

“Alright,” Dan took a sip of his wine, stalling for time so he could figure out what to say. He felt his phone vibrate against his leg, but he knew Louise would probably throw it out the window if he dared to look at it right now. “Uhm, so last night. I went to B ‘n G right after I dropped Adaline off at the train station. And — fuck. I got there and he was working, right? And there were a bunch of fucking uni students there, too.” Dan rolled his eyes and took a drink. “There was so much bloody sexual tension. Like, we both knew that this thing between us was really going to happen, but... we were in public and there were people around. It’s not like we could exactly jump each other right then, so…”

“So what happened? You obviously did something afterwards,” Louise prompted with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah.” Dan took another sip of wine in preparation for the next part of the story. “There’s kind of an important bit of drama before that though.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up and a look of concern clouded her face. “What?”

“Guess who showed up at the coffee shop?” Dan couldn’t stop his tone from coming out harsher, darker.

“Oh dear, who?” Louise stared at Dan imploringly. “I’m guessing it wasn’t good.”

“Not at all,” Dan agreed with a resigned shake of his head. He took a drink — a much needed drink — before answering. “Isabella.”

Louise’s jaw dropped and she was speechless for nearly a full minute. “Why?”

Dan shook his head, lost at how to communicate just how much of a shitshow it had been.

Wine. Wine might help.

Holding up a finger to make Louise wait, Dan swallowed the rest of his wine in three large gulps. His actions must have spoken volumes, because Louise drained her wine as well and promptly poured them each another glass.

Dan accepted it graciously, staring into it for comfort.

“She wanted to get back together,” Dan explained hallowly. “And apparently shout a bunch of really shitty stuff at me and Phil — well, mainly Phil.”

Louise looked just as outraged as Dan had felt when Isabella made her demands. In the eighteen years that Dan had known her, he’d never seen that expression on Louise’s face. Every ounce of niceness, of warmth, was gone and was replaced with sheer disgust. “She what?”

“I don’t really want to get into, tbh.” Taking another long drink of his wine, Dan shrugged and rolled his eyes. “It was shit. It was so obvious that she just missed the media attention, and there was more of her same bi-erasure crap, and she accused Phil of turning me gay, whatever that means. Plus, she tried to accuse me of cheating on her with Phil, which was some first class bullshit.”

Louise’s eyes were growing wider and wider as Dan relayed the story. It was clear that she was desperate to interrupt him, but Dan kept going, raising a hand to silently tell her to just hold on a second.

Because fuck knows he was nowhere near done with this story.

“Oh it gets worse,” Dan continued. “She tried to kiss me — well, I guess technically she did kiss me, but I pushed her away.”

Louise gasped loudly, but didn’t interject. Dan laughed humorlessly, his eyes rolling in distaste. “I thought Phil was going to have a heart attack. Isabella lost her fucking shit, though, and swore to the high heavens that I’d regret it. Like fuck will I regret not getting back together with her.”

“Oh my god,” Louise gasped. “Do you think she’ll do something to get revenge somehow?”

Dan cocked his head. He hadn’t really considered that.

“I assumed she just meant that I’d miss her. Which I won’t. Obviously.”

“I’m not sure that’s what she meant, Dan,” Louise warned warily.

“Really?” Dan’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think she’s so crazy that she’d try to get revenge.”

Louise shot him a skeptical look. “We’ve already discovered that she’s absolutely batshit, I wouldn’t underestimate her if I were you.”

Dan shrugged and took a long drink of wine. “Whatever. I’m so fucking done with her, and I’m so happy that I can’t imagine anything she could do to really hurt me.”

“I don’t know about —” Louise started, but Dan was sick of the topic already.

“Look, can we drop it please?” Dan’s voice was terse and it didn’t particularly come out like a question. The two minutes that he’d dedicated to talking about Isabella already felt like too much, and he could feel a raging headache coming on if he had to stomach the conversation for another half second.

Besides, that’s not what tonight, what this conversation, was supposed to be focused on.

“Fine, fine,” Louise acquiesced, but it was evident she didn’t want to move on from the topic yet. “Just be careful okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan drained the rest of his wine and refilled his glass again, topping Louise’s off as well.

“Finish the story, then. You said you were happy?” Louise smirked knowingly and glanced down at Dan’s neck again.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Dan giggled, a reverent smile taking over his face. The memories of last night came washing back and, for a moment, he got lost in them. The way it had felt when Phil had touched him, the sight of his mouth trailing over Dan’s skin...

“Because…” Louise prompted.

Shifting to sit more upright, Dan continued, “After all that shit with Isabella, Phil offered to take me out for a drink, to calm down or whatever, so I told him to meet me at my flat when he was done closing up.”

“Awe,” Louise cooed. “What a gentleman.”

“I got back home, though, and I realized that I really, really didn’t want to go back in public with him. Like, the whole fucking evening we had to toe line of what was okay for being in public and I didn’t want that anymore.”

Louise winked, a smirk on her face. She’d known Dan plenty long — she knew how Dan could be once he had that on the mind.

“So I made us a pitcher of drinks, you know, to derail the whole going out plan.”

“Daniel James Howell!” Louise scolded, the smile falling from her face. “Did you do this drunk?”

“No, we barely had more than one drink each,” Dan defended. Him and Louise had gone over his intentions with Phil — and his determination to be in a clear mind when anything happened — and he was almost a little offended that she’d thought he would just throw that away.

Almost. Not entirely though, given his track record of hookups.

“Anyway, at first we just talked. I told him everything — and I mean everything — about Isabella and why we broke up. And he listened and said he wanted to be different and just, cared — wait.” Dan cut himself off. “He actually said something really important during all of that. And I’m going to use it as my album title."

Louise blinked rapidly, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “What did he say?”

“He was talking about Isabella and he made a comment about how she is better off loving herself, and it just hit me. Love yourself.”

Louise smiled widely, her face softening. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. She’d heard Dan ramble about the album more than anyone, and if she thought it was fitting, too, then that meant it was definitely the right title. She wiggled around in her seat, and nudged Dan’s wine glass pointedly. “Tell me more about that later, though. Get back to Phil.”

“Well, I kind of told him that I did break up with Isabella because I had feelings for him — at least partially.” Dan’s cheeks flushed as he got closer to the part of the story he knew Louise was waiting for. “And I don’t know, one thing led to another and we kissed,” Dan said, trying to brush over the juicier bits.

“Dan,” Louise said, quirking a brow in amusement. Her tone was almost condescending as she needlessly reminded him, “You don’t get hickeys just from kissing.”

“Fine, fine,” Dan relented. “We did more than kiss, happy?”

“No!” Louise exclaimed indignantly. “Tell me more! I want details.”

Dan felt his cheeks grow even warmer. The last twenty four hours with Phil had been so fucking hot, and he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back and replaying the details. Every single time they’d touched had felt electric, and Dan couldn’t shake the image of Phil kissing his way down his chest, down his stomach, up his thighs, and…

“No sex but, uh, plenty else,” Dan confessed awkwardly.

Dumbfounded, Louise’s jaw dropped and she nearly dribbled out the sip of wine she’d just taken. “No sex?! Why?”

“Last night we were too eager to get farther than, um, sloppy handjobs.” Dan blushed deeply, his gaze dropping to his wine glass momentarily. “I mean, we’d basically had months of foreplay and just couldn’t wait any longer.”

Dan awkwardly cleared his throat, and looked back up at Louise. “And then this morning we were in the shower, so sex, um, wasn’t really an option.” From his neck to his ears, Dan was certain that his entire face was on fire by this point. “And this afternoon we just got carried away again and didn’t, um, last long enough for that.”

Louise didn’t bother to stifle her giggles, but she did set her wine down on the table so she could laughly freely without spilling it. Dan knew whatever she had to say was probably only going to further his humiliation.

“Are you fourteen again?” she sputtered through her laughter.

Dan buried his face in his hands but didn’t try to defend himself — he had come unbelievably fast every time they’d done anything so far. Hell, he’d basically come just from blowing Phil. There was no point in denying how young they’d acted.

“Shuddup, it was new and exciting.” Dan dropped his hands and took a drink from his wine glass. “Beside, I um, kinda want sex to be…” Dan trailed off bashfully, turning his attention down to the hole in his jeans and fiddling with the loose strings.

“To be what?” Louise asked, head tilted and lips pursed. Much to Dan’s disappointment, she looked genuinely baffled. He’d kind of hoped that she would just get what he meant without him having to actually say anything.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Dan mumbled without looking up from his trousers.

“I’ll do my best,” Louise promised. Her foot reached out and nudged Dan’s leg, drawing Dan’s attention back up to her face.

“I just kind of want that to be special,” Dan admitted sheepishly. “Like, Phil’s special, so it feels like maybe the sex should be, too. It’s never been, like, a thing with anyone before.”

“Mmm,” Louise hummed as she took a sip of her wine. “Sex hasn’t meant anything to you before, but it will with Phil?”

“Yeah,” Dan looked back down at his exposed knee and traced his fingers along the rip of his jeans. “Suddenly it feels like it’s… I dunno. More than just sex, I guess.”

Louise poked her foot into his thigh again, and he looked up. “Dan, I think that’s great. That’s a real sign of growth, and honestly, I never expected to hear you talk about sex that way. You’ve always talked about how sex makes you happy, so you seek it out. I guess I just assumed that… it wouldn’t ever be an important step in a relationship for you. But I’m really happy for you. I’m proud of this whole new outlook you seem to have on relationships.”

“It’s not really relationships,” Dan corrected. “It’s Phil.”

“So, Phil is different from everyone else. More meaningful?” Louise smiled softly.

“Yeah, he is,” Dan agreed, his eyes trained on his knee again. At least that way he had a chance of hiding his bright red cheeks from Louise.

In search of a distraction, or a change in subject, Dan cast a look around the room. His phone was still face down on the sofa between them and — shit, right. He’d been in the middle of a conversation with Phil, and his phone had vibrated a while back. Eager to shift the conversation from his embarrassing confession, Dan dug his phone out from where it had slid under his bum and unlocked it.

Just as he’d expected, there was an unread message from Phil.

It took Dan a few seconds to process what Phil had said, but when the meaning of Phil’s message finally registered, Dan’s jaw dropped.

Phil [8:04PM]: I’m not going to lie, though. The thought of you in proper lipstick is kind of hot.

“What?” Louise demanded, clearly noticing Dan’s shocked expression.

“I, um, I…” Dan couldn’t manage to string together a coherent thought. Images were flooding his mind — images he didn’t particularly want to be thinking about in front of Louise. “It’s maybe a little kinky,” he choked out.

“Oh my god, tell me right now, Daniel Howell.”

“I sent him a picture of this.” Dan waved his hand around his face, hyper aware of how silly he must have looked to Louise during this whole conversation. “And we joked about it and whatever. But then he sent, uh, another message.”

Louise’s face contorted into a look of disbelief and confusion. “Dan, I love you to bits, but there is nothing sexy about how you look right now. Half of your face is purple.”

“Not this, specifically.” Dan pointed at his face with a pointed glare. “Just, like, the concept.”

“Ooooh,” Louise hummed scandalously. “Is he into that?”

Dan didn’t drop his glare but he could feel the blush on his cheeks deepen even more. “Just the, uh, lipstick.”

“You can take any of mine you want,” she offered eagerly.

Dan shifted his gaze to his lap nervously. “Not tonight. I feel like we should have sex first.” Dan glanced up shyly. “But maybe we can go shopping at some point?”

Before Louise could answer, Darcy ran back in the room and jumped onto the sofa between them.

“Mummy, mummy! Look at my makeup!”

Dan bit back a laugh, smiling at Darcy’s makeup. Just like when she’d done his face, she’d paid no regards to rules about where makeup was supposed to go, and what product was meant for which parts. From the looks of it, she’d tried to make the lipstick into a crude attempt at eyeliner, and had bright red rings around her eyes. Like Dan, her cheeks were sporting eyeshadow instead of blush — although hers were a bright blue color.

“It looks lovely, sweetie!” Louise cooed.

“Uncle Dan and I match now!” Excited, Darcy bounced on her knees. Dan felt a smidgen bad about giving her a present that had apparently riled her up so close to bedtime.

“You do,” Louise agreed. “You both look beautiful.”

“Will you take our picture, Mummy?” Darcy crawled into Dan’s lap without waiting for an answer, and flashed Louise a pair of big puppy-dog eyes — a look she’d learned from Dan.

“I’d love to.” Louise swiped Dan’s phone off of the sofa and aimed the camera at them. “Say cheese!”

Cheeks pressed close together, they both smiled widely at Louise.

“Cheeeeeeese!” Darcy squealed.

Giggling, Dan pulled Darcy in a little closer. “Cheese!”

Louise took several photos, and Dan turned to press a sloppy kiss on Darcy’s cheek in the last one. When he pulled back, there was a mess of orange lipstick overtop of the blue powder on her cheeks.

Louise passed Dan back his phone and he swiped through the pictures. They were all adorable, and if it weren’t for the hickeys that were prominently showing on his neck, Dan would have considered tweeting one of them.

“Alright, lovely. It’s time for your bedtime.”

“I want Uncle Dan to tuck me in!”

“Let’s go brush your teeth and wash your face and then he can put you to bed.”

“But I like my makeup,” Darcy pouted, crossing her arms in front her chest and stomping.

“You don’t want to get your sheets all mucked up, though.” Louise scooped Darcy up and stood. “If you’re good, maybe Uncle Dan will even read you a book.”

“Really!?” Darcy looked excitedly to Dan.

“Any book you want,” Dan promised.

“Okay! Let’s go, Mummy!”

Louise giggled and carried Darcy to the loo. “We’ll be back in a minute to get you, Daniel!”

Taking advantage of the moment alone, Dan opened his conversation with phone and typed a quick response.

Dan [8:19PM]: noted.

Phil must not be busy tonight, because his response came quickly.

Phil [8:20PM]: Maybe just not bright orange

Dan [8:21PM]: not sexually attracted to pumpkins? im hurt phil

Phil [8:22PM]: No but I am ridiculously sexually attracted to you.

Even from across London, Phil was making Dan blush. Dan stared at Phil’s message, savoring the fact that not only was Phil ridiculously attracted to him, but also the fact that that was something they were allowed to say, now. Dan sort of wanted that message framed and hung on his wall so he could see it every day.

Dan [8:24PM]: i can tell. you made a right mess of me today

Dan [8:25PM]: what color would you be interested in

Dan [8:25PM]: theoretically.

Biting his lip — and probably getting orange all over his teeth in the process — Dan stared anxiously at his phone while waited for a response.

Phil [8:26PM]: Theoretically? Dark red.

Phil [8:26PM]: And theoretically, I imagine it’d go well with stockings.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The image of himself in dark red lipstick and black stockings, with Phil kissing up his leg… fuck.

Dan could not get a boner right now.

Dan [8:27PM]: abort

Dan realized that his message probably made it sound like he wasn’t into what Phil was suggesting, rather than that he was too into it. He quickly typed out a second message.

Dan [8:27PM]: i have to read darcy a story in like .2 seconds and i can’t do that if you get me worked up again

Phil [8:28PM]: Oops

Phil [8:28PM]: When do I get to see you again?

Dan tabbed over to his calendar, and grimaced at the fact that the next four days were blocked off from morning ‘til evening, all just with the description STUDIO.

And sure, he had a whole fuckton more direction and inspiration than he had twenty four hours ago. And sure, he already had a chorus of lyrics rattling about his head.

But fuck he didn’t want to be a responsible adult. He just wanted to see Phil.

Dan [8:30PM]: i have to work during the day all week, but i can do dinner any night

Phil [8:31PM]: Tomorrow night then. I’ll make a reservation and pick you up. 7 okay?

Dan [8:32PM]: perfect. come over a little earlier? i wanna be with you alone before we have to go out in public

Phil [8:32PM]: I’ll be there at 6 xx

Dan [8:33PM]: fine. but make the reservation for 8 then xx

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ohana: Part 2

Pairings: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,179

Part 1

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

“Do you have anyone that needs prosthetics?” You asked Negan as you walked through the building where you had gotten your prosthetic years before.

“We’ve got a guy missin’ an arm. Don’t know what the fuck you can do with that.” You nodded as you pushed open the doctors office door.

“There’s enough information in here that I can learn how to fit a prosthetic. Won’t be top quality but it’ll be better than nothing.” Your eyes scanned the books on the shelves and you smiled slightly at the titles. “Damn this guy read a lot.” You mumbled more to yourself as you pulled out a book called ‘Procedure desk reference’. “This shit’ll come in handy.”

“Dwight! Come grab this shit!” Negan called out as you pulled another thick volume off the shelf titled ‘Physicians' Desk Reference for herbal medication’. 

“Have you guys checked out any doctors offices around here for supplies?” You asked as you handed Dwight the two books and turned to the desk.

“Didn’t think about it, honestly and Carson was fucking useless and didn’t suggest it.” You nodded as you grabbed the two tablets off the desk and yanked the power cords from the wall.

“Here’s a whole list of doctors that should come in handy.” You said as you grabbed the rolodex off the doctor’s desk. “I know he referred me to a psychiatrist, which means mental health drugs. I know this guy is an orthopedic surgeon and he did his surgeries in the same building his office was in, meaning he could have anesthesia. Oh, this guy is pain management and always had some good under the table samples…”

“Well damn, sweetheart. Who fucking knew that dealing with your crazy ass would be so fucking fruitful.” Your face deadpanned as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Shut up.” You muttered as you closed the top to the rolodex and tucked it under your arm. “I gotta go find myself my new leg and see what I can bring back that could be useful.” With a simple nod from Negan, you dipped into the hall and headed down to the therapy room. You stepped around members of the crew, who were searching every single nook and cranny for anything useful, and headed to the room that housed all the prosthetics. 

You walked along the line to find the part of the shelf that had your name on it. You were supposed to get a new leg before the fall and dealing with it after wasn’t on your list of priorities after. With a smile, you pulled the polypropylene and titanium from the shelf and gave it a once over. With a nod, you tucked it under your arm and grabbed the new protective sleeve that came with it as a guttural growl came at you.

“Shit!” You shouted as you lost your balance and toppled to the floor on your ass as one of the dead techs landed beside you. You scooted out of his grasp a little too late and he wrapped his hands around your old prosthetic finally breaking the pylon off the socket. You yanked your stump free and grabbed a limb off one of the shelves.

“Swear to fuck.” You shouted as you ripped off the hand with inhuman strength and stabbed the deadie in the head. Dark brown blood splattered the room as you continued your assault. “Not today, mother fucker. Not- to- day.” When you were sure the asshole was completely dead, you shouted ‘Ooorah’ at the corpse and laid back on the floor with a sigh only to look up at Regina, Simon and Negan.

“I take it back.” Negan said. “Bitch can fucking protect herself.”

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

“Hell does that even say?” You asked yourself as you squinted at the God-awful handwriting later that night as you tried to organize Dr. Carson’s notes into some semblance of order. After a moment, you gave up trying to figure out the scribbles and added it to the growing pile of ‘unknowns’ on your bed to your left between you and your sleeping daughter. You grabbed the  next page off the stack as someone knocked softly on your door.

“Yep.” You called out as you added the crumpled up paper to Cam’s pile and looked up at the door. You gave Negan a weak smile as he glanced down the hall before dipping into your room and closing the door behind him.

“How’s it goin’?” He asked as you grabbed the next piece of paper; a paper towel.

“If this man wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him out of principle for being a shitty doctor.” You added the note to Isabelle’s pile and grabbed the next one. “And on top of that, the amount of shit he wasted is disgusting. This Isabelle girl took seventeen pregnancy tests. Seventeen! Are you kidding me?” Negan huffed as he grabbed the chair from your desk and pulled it up to your bed side.

“Well she’s fucking dead and now you’re in charge of the clinic so you can make your own damn rules.” You nodded as you grabbed the next paper and squinted your eyes to try to find a name. “So we’re moving your clinic to a bigger room at the end of this hall for all you’ve fucking pulled off. Make it a little easier on you so you’re not going up and down the fucking stairs all the time, too.” You looked up at him as you set the paper down on Sherry’s pile and cocked your eyebrow. “We grabbed a bed from the fuckin’ hospital and one of those fuckin’ reclining chairs. That and the exam table you got gives you an actual fuckin’ hospital center.” You smiled at him and said a genuine ‘thank you’ but he brushed you off as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“I had the crew put all the shit in there for you to fuckin’ organize how you want it. I know how doctors are about their shit. Here’s the keys. You got the only copies to the med cart we grabbed but I have a copy to the lock we snagged off one of the fuckin’ doors at that second place.” You glanced at the keys in your hand and paused a bit as you saw not only your motorcycle keys but the hand made ‘I love you more’ keychain from Mike’s keyring.

“Damn.” You whispered as you brushed your thumb over your sister’s handwriting. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and nodded. “Thank you.” He nodded his head as he reached out and gently placed his hand on your right thigh.

“I don’t know what the fuck it is about you, baby girl. But you make me wanna break all my own fucking rules.” You huffed a laugh as you jostled the keys in your hand before putting them on your bedside table.

“Oh yea? Like what?” He smirked and shrugged as he massaged his thumb into your thigh.

“Well… had any other prick pulled the stunts you did today and they’d fucking meet Lucille.” Your eyebrows flew to your hair line as he studied your face for your reaction. “The bat.” You pursed your lips and nodded slowly as he continued. “You going on a fucking run… no one gets to just fucking do it. But I fucking let you and I have no fucking idea why I did.”

“Usually it’s because people feel sorry for me because I’m missing a leg.” You said simply with a shrug as you looked down at his hand on your thigh. “So don’t beat yourself up over that shit.” You met his eyes again and you could see him slowly accepting your ‘get out of jail’ card.

“Yea… yea, you must be right.” You nodded at him again as he pulled his hand back to his lap. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Well anyways, you’re getting a fucking crew. Get your shit settled, figure out what you have and what you still fucking need. Dwight, Laura, and Gary are yours when they ain’t out with me. You get two trips a month; I can’t fucking afford to lose another doctor and I can’t fucking afford them being gone more often.” You nodded your head as he stood up from the chair and headed toward the door. He hesitated for a moment before looking back at you. “Don’t fucking make me regret this.”

——

“Any allergies that you know about?” You asked for what felt like the millionth time as you gave yet another person a quick physical in your new clinic. The man on your table shook his head as you checked his ears, nose and throat and tossed the cover into a box marked ‘clear’ so you could sterilize them and use them again in the future. You glanced up at him and as you ran your temple thermometer across his forehead. “Any pain, any bumps, or bruises? Scars, past surgeries, anything like that?” You glanced up at the man, who was focused solely on your exposed stump just like every other person you had had come in. With a sigh, you snapped your fingers in front of his face.

“Oh! Shit, sorry. No, no pain, surgeries or weird stuff.” You nodded as you entered in the information in his chart.

“Alright, we’re all set here. Nurse Lilo.” You turned to your daughter with a smile and she held up a lollipop with a smile of her own. The man huffed a laugh and took the offered treat on his way out the door. You let out a sigh as you watched him walk out.

“Mommy… why do they keep starin’ at you?” You saved the new chart quickly and looked up at your five year old with a smile.

“Because they are just curious, baby. They’ve never seen someone who was missing a leg before.” She nodded slowly as she tried to understand while you looked back at your list of people who lived at the Sanctuary you still needed to see.

“How come?” You looked up from your list, which now only consisted of Negan and Brenna, and sighed.

“How come what, sweetheart?” She looked up from your leg and searched your eyes.

“How come they wanna make you feel bad for being different?” You smiled at your little girl, who was too pure for this world, and scooted over to where she was sitting on the big chair from the hospital.

“Because they just don’t get that it can be hurtful. But you have to remember… we can’t control other people. So we just have to ignore them when they’re being rude and hurtful, right?” She nodded at you as you reached out and booped her nose before scooting back over to sanitize your table.

“You’re a good mom.” Negan said softly as he came into the clinic. You looked up at him with a  genuine smile and nodded.

“Thanks. I see you got my message to come see me when you got back?” He huffed a laugh and nodded as you scooted away from the end of the exam table.

“That I did. The fuck do you got for me, doc?” You smiled at him, actually glad he had made it back after his two week excursion to who knows where.

“Physical exam. Take a seat. Nurse Lilo?” Your little girl jumped off the chair and went over to close the door.

“The arm squeezer.” She said as she came over to do her portion of the exam. You helped her up onto your lap as Negan took a seat on your exam table. Brenna got a stern look on her face as you handed her the blood pressure cuff. “Arm please.” Negan chuckled as he took off his ever present leather jacket and offered up his arm while Brenna looked for the little arrow on the blue fabric.

“Line it up with the middle.” You reminded her as you pulled your stethoscope from around your neck. Your patient sat very still as you helped your little helper tighten the cuff around his muscular arm. You put your stethoscope in your ears and set the diaphragm in the crook of his arm as you handed her the pump. 

“Only to one-six-zero.” You reminded her as you clipped the gauge onto the holder and put your hand over hers. Negan watched as Brenna pumped with all her might to get the red line to hit 160 like she was supposed to. She smiled proudly when it finally made it and pulled her hands out from under yours so you could get an accurate reading. You glanced at your watch and could almost hear her whispered counting as you got the systolic and diastolic numbers.

“What’s your count, nurse?” You asked with one more glance at your watch as you let the rest of the air out of the bladder and took off your stethoscope.

“Four.” You nodded at her proudly as you put the blood pressure cuff on the counter and grabbed your tablet.

“What was she counting?” Negan asked as Brenna stood on the rolling stool with a foot on either side of your left thigh and held onto your pony tail for balance.

“Your respirations in fifteen seconds. Now, if you don’t mind, we have to take your pulse.” Negan laughed and nodded.

“Well who the fuck am I to stand in the way of my beautiful doctors?”

“Mommy…” Brenna giggled and you smirked and nodded.

“Yep, Negan says the very bad word a lot.” You watched his cheeks pink the slightest bit as you guided Brenna’s hand to the pulse point in Negan’s neck which was easier for her to feel.

“Sorry.” He said, receiving a glare from Brenna as you put her fingers on his jugular while yours went to the pulse point on his wrist.

“You gots be quiet!” She said to him. “I gots to count.” Negan put on a stern face and zipped his lips as you glanced at your watch.

“Ready?” You asked as you wrapped your arm around her middle so she wouldn’t fall over. “Go.” You forced yourself to tune out her out loud counting, which had gotten a lot better since she started counting people’s pulse a couple weeks before. She did mess up when she hit the teens but you knew she still needed a little more practice with those. “Time.”

“Good job, little doc.” Negan said as he held up his hand for a high five. Brenna hit it as hard as she could and he playfully shook his hand as if he was hurt. “Well daaa….ng, little one. You’re really strong!” She giggled and nodded her head as she sat back down on your legs. “What’s next?”

“Flexes.” She said as you placed a small rubber hammer in her hand and held on to it. “Now this could hurt.” She said sternly as she looked up at him. He nodded and furrowed his brow.

“Ok. I’m ready.” You guided Brenna’s hand and let her tap his knee. Negan, being the good sport he was, kicked his leg out a little dramatically and feigned shock. “Whoa! That’s never done that before! How did you do that?”

“Um…” Brenna said as you shifted her to your other thigh. “It’s a doctor secret so I can’t tell you.” You and your patient both fought to hold back your laugh as she did his other knee, receiving the same result.

“Alright, nurse. Your job here is done for now. Go prepare for your next part. This is our super special patient so you better pick the best one you got.” You said as she handed you the hammer and climbed off your lap. She nodded frantically as she climbed onto her chair and started digging through the bag of slightly stale lollipops for what she thought was the best one for her patient.

“So how am I, doc?” He asked as you added the data to his chart.

“Blood pressure’s normal. Pulse is a little high but it’s not concerning.” He nodded at you as you grabbed your stethoscope and moved your chair to stand up at his side. “Deep breath.” Negan let you finish you exam quietly but you couldn’t help but notice that he was constantly watching you unlike your other patients, who were simply watching your leg dangle. As you wrapped up your exam and asked him the standard general knowledge questions, you sat back down on your stool and smiled. “Well, you seem to be all good in my book.”

“Well that is great to hear.” He said as he put his jacket back on. “Is there anyone here that we need to be concerned about that you didn’t already know about?” You sat back in your chair as you finished inputting the last bit of info into his chart and your brow furrowed.

“Well… um let’s see.” You set your tablet down and looked up at the ceiling to recall the past two weeks of patients. “We have one woman that has severe arthritis but she refuses to leave the garden and I think her husband is in the early, early stages of Alzheimer’s so I’m gunna have to keep an eye on him. I’m gunna try to give Cam a prosthetic but Carson did a great job of butchering his stump so I don’t know if I’ll be able to without causing his nerves unnecessary pain. And other than a pregnancy test for one of those ladies in mourning, everyone was more interested in my stump then…”

“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked over at him and your brow furrowed.

“Which part?”

“Who took the fucking pregnancy test?”

“Oh!” You said as you grabbed your tablet and pulled up the chart, not realizing what you had just done. “Shit which one was… oh here it is. Amber. It came back negative but she was still crying so…” Negan nodded slowly as he pulled a leather glove out of his jacket pocket.

“Thank you. I’m gunna need you down in the fucking hall when you’re done in here. Take Brenna down to the day care first.” You nodded at him slowly as he stood up from the exam table and headed toward the door.

“Wait, your medicine!” Brenna called as she slid off the chair and ran over to him with the lollipop in her hand. He smiled at her as he crouched down at her side.

“Thank you Doctor Lilo. You did a great job today, princess.” She blushed violently as he ruffled her hair and stood back up. “Don’t be long, doc. I don’t like to wait.” You nodded at his back as you closed out Amber’s file and turned off your tablet.

“Alright, B. Let’s get you down to day care so mommy can figure out what’s going on.”

Part 3

[colorofyourhair]

Practically Perfect in Every Way

Prompt:

Rating: M

Note: As tumblr is the only site that will let me list an individual rating per chapter I’ll rate them as content demands. However the larger compilation on both FFN and AO3 are rated M.

So... This got away from me. I hope you like single dad/nanny AU because this is 11k of exactly that. Also please forgive the sloppy formatting. My laptop is on the blinks and I’m posting from an iPad and google Docs EATS FORMATTING. I AM SO UPSET. Anyway. Thanks to @ravenstyx for the pre-read.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

Autumn

Their situation wasn't ideal. He felt bad admitting that because of course it wasn't ideal. Not for him, not for the girls, and certainly not for their mother – his sister – who'd just been buried. Just being a relative term because the funeral was nearly six months behind them. Six months had passed and he was only beginning to settle in the new house with the children that were now his...ish. His-ish. Were they his? He supposed they were. Gods he was already a terrible father. He couldn't even call them his children without following it up with unnecessary qualifiers.

The social worker had glared at him when he explained that he was still technically a college student. He couldn't just move. PhD candidates didn't just leave. He had papers and books and a life. He even had a job offer already, despite being a full year away from graduating. The position, of course, had been the gage by which he measured all his success as a student. That had been buried right along with his sister, though. He'd need to seek other, more local, employment now. Which was fine. It was fine.

It wasn't fine.

He was angry. Not at the blameless, motherless children that now looked to him as their only parental figure to guide them through their tumultuous childhood and into the even more choppy waters of adulthood. Not at his sister who'd up and died and left him her daughters – okay, maybe he was a little mad at his sister. When she'd asked him if he'd be okay with a place in her Last Will and Testament as a guardian to her daughters, he hadn't considered that she'd develop cancer and actually die before he even graduated college – or ever! All of the blocks toppled at once and Jellal felt completely buried.

“I just need a little time,” he'd said to the social worker.

“Don't you think these kids would love to have time at their disposal? They're children who just lost their mother and I don't think –”

“I lost my sister, too,” he'd snapped. “This is hard for me, too. Look, I'm doing my best. I can have everything done in maybe two months. I can finish my studies at a distance but I need time.”

She'd sighed and eyed him harshly over the tops of her bifocals. “You can have one month. After that you'll need to be here full time according to the attorney. My only interest is the children. We'll schedule follow-ups once you're here permanently.”

“I'm sorry,” he'd been so confused. Everything had been horribly confusing. “Attorney?”

“Didn't you know?” For the first time since they'd met, the social worker grinned. “There's a whole litany of things your sister set up before her death. Good luck, Mister Fernandes.” On his way out he thought for sure he'd heard her whisper, “You'll need it.”

The sale of his sister's house happened quicker than he could truly process. She hadn't wanted her daughters to grow up in the house where she'd died. He didn't know whether to curse her or bless her, but she'd prepared the children for the move. They wanted a say in the new house. Corralling two little girls together to view properties exhausted him more than any late night study session followed by a full day of classes ever had. By the time he had three positive votes on a house, he was ready to sign the papers right away. But there were roadblocks. Things like escrow and amortization and estate tax. Jellal didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to move. To settle.

Even now that they were in the house with all new things – his sister had left behind a sizable amount of money, a sum he couldn't quite comprehend – Jellal still felt out of control. The kitchen was tidy and sparkling. The girls' bedroom and playroom were perfect. The living room was as inviting as any he'd ever seen. They even had a mud room – Jellal hadn't even known what a mud room was until a month before. But his office? An utter nightmare. Boxes were still on the floor and books were stacked on every available surface. The office had been his only condition in a family home. Even the keyboard of his laptop was littered with printouts of resumes.

And that's how she found him. A messy postgrad student standing alone in his office, sifting through papers and books. His hair, though recently trimmed, stood mostly on end and his sweater wasn't quite enough to keep away the early October chill – he really needed drapes for the windows in the room before winter.

“Mister Fernandes?” she said softly from the door. He jumped. His fingers curled into the paper and wrinkled it.

“Yes?” Jellal straightened and cleared his throat. “Are you...” he trailed off and poked around the mess of papers again. “I'm so sorry, I don't...”

“Miss Scarlet,” she offered, stepping around the boxes between the door and his desk. He shook her hand briefly before realizing her resume was the one he'd crumpled. Of course it was.

“Forgive me, this office is a nightmare right now. I'm...” he trailed off again and pushed the fluffy cat from his chair. The cat belonged to his oldest niece. Though obviously a boy, she'd named him Lily.

“A mess?” her smile was distracting but the way the afternoon sun glinted off the violent red of her hair was even more distracting. “It's okay, I understand. I only recently graduated myself. I can't imagine going for a doctorate. I don't think I'd survive.”

Jellal removed his glasses, took a seat in his chair, and motioned to the one across from him. “It's exhausting,” he agreed, glancing over her resume quickly.

“I think I should just go ahead and tell you, Mister Fernandes, I don't have any experience in nannying.” She bit her lip and her shoulders fell. “Or even babysitting.”

He scanned her wrinkled resume and tried his best to flatten it out.

“I just thought I'd get that out there before... this went any further... Mister Fernandes?” Her expression was concerned curiosity when he finally looked up. He blinked.

“Well, of course you don't have experience,” he said incredulously. Her resume, besides having no experience, was impressive. She had a master's degree in early childhood development and had taken a brief position as a councilor at a Montessori School out of state. “You just graduated.”

“Lots of people want experience,” she offered helpfully. “And relevant references.”

“Oh.” He blinked again. “Well do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have relevant references.”

“I just said I didn't.”

“Then why did you bring it up?

Her eyes narrowed and she licked her lips. “I'm sorry but do you have a clue what you're doing?”

“No.” Jellal sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“I see.” She shifted in her own chair and cleared her throat. “Maybe you could tell me a little more about what you're looking for in a nanny and I'll decide if I can handle that.”

“Right.” He sat up again and heaved a deep breath. “The oldest just turned seven. Yukino is only three, though, and for now she's staying with a babysitter down the street but I'd like for that to stop once I hire you. A bus comes for Sorano in the mornings at the corner around seven-thirty, and brings her home again at three-thirty-ish.”

“That sounds manageable,” she said with a nod. “What else?”

He fidgeted a bit before pressing on. “I'm hoping maybe for help with some extraneous kid-related things, too.”

“Like?”

“I am absolutely capable of handling my own laundry, I would never ask you to do that, but –” He sighed defeatedly. “Little girls just go through so many clothes. I can't keep up.”

“So laundry? I think I can handle that. What about meals?”

“Uh,” Jellal felt the tips of his ears burn. He hadn't expected the process of explaining how utterly inept he was to be so embarrassing. Maybe if Miss Scarlet were older and not so obviously an age peer he'd feel less exposed. “I'm afraid my skills in the kitchen are limited to pasta and sauce. The quality control department has put me on notice.”

Miss Scarlet stifled a laugh. “I think I can help out with that, too. I'll need a list of known allergies or any limitations or preferences.”

“Of course,'' he blurted. Did the children have allergies? He thought for sure he'd have been informed if either of them had life threatening allergies. “And, uh, I'm not sure about your living situation but the gable on the roof is actually a third floor apartment. The realtor called it a granny's quarters.” Jellal flushed. “But obviously you aren't a granny and I'm not asking you to –”

“I'll have a look. I've been staying at a hotel near the airport in Tacoma and haven't worked out residency yet.”

“Perfect.” Jellal suddenly stood and dislodged the array of resumes hanging over the edge of his desk. He scrambled to keep them from falling all over the floor but failed miserably. “I can show you the house now. The girls are down the street with Yukino's sitter. I told her I was doing interviews today and –”

“Can I meet them?”

“The sitter?”

“No, Mister Fernandes, the children.” Miss Scarlet smiled in a way that was almost a smirk.

“Right.” He stopped in front of her and hid his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I'm sure I come across as wildly unprofessional. I apologize if that's making you uncomfortable. Please just let me know what you need and I'll do my best to accommodate you.”

“I think we're probably on the same level there. Maybe if I had more experience with a position like this I would have a better feel of how to judge your situation. Why don't you show me the house and then we'll talk about salary and the things I need. If we can come to an agreement, I'd like to meet the kids and go from there.”

“That sounds great, Miss Scarlet.” He smiled and then she smiled and it was a great effort to turn away and lead her through the house.

Miss Scarlet's expression remained neutral throughout the entire tour until they reached the laundry room attached to the mud room. She quirked an eyebrow at the piles of clothes that hadn't been sorted at all. When they reached the front room, she began in a business-like voice.

“Who does your shopping?”

“Me.”

“I think you should let me do that.”

“Right. Okay.”

She eyed him closely before going on. “I'll need a minimum of five full days completely off duty for myself a month. I don't mind including the kids for small personal errands but the five days a month will be a requirement.”

“That sounds reasonable. If you need more, don't hesitate to bring it up.”

“I won't. Since you're looking for both a nanny and some general housekeeping during the week, I think a salary around –”

“I was thinking seven-eighty a week to start?” he blurted. It was more than his sister's attorney had recommended but after spending the last two hours with Miss Scarlet, Jellal didn't want anyone else. “There's a car in the garage that belonged to my sister and you can have full use of it for nanny stuff. And a phone. I can get you a phone. We can outfit the apartment on the third floor however you like.”

“What if I wanted a pet?”

Jellal blinked. He hadn't expected such a request. Did he care if she wanted a pet? She laughed lightly and the sound was the most levitating thing he'd heard in weeks.

“I'm kidding, Mister Fernandes. How –” The sound of the children bursting through the front door rattled in Jellal's skull. He still wasn't quite used to the way they charged into a room. His two nieces, followed by their exasperated sitter, stopped short in the archway between the living room and foyer.

“I'm sorry, Jellal, but Yuki is running a temperature and my daughter can't be exposed.”

“It's fine, Bisca, I can take it from here.” Though he'd expected it, Jellal was still surprised when Bisca offered Miss Scarlet her hand.

“You must be the new nanny,” she said with a wide smile. “I need to get back home to my daughter but I wanted to introduce myself. If you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask.”

“Well,” Jellal cut in. “She's not –”

“I'm Erza,” Miss Scarlet offered with her own smile. “And thank you!”

“Jellal is so green with these girls, they just stampede all over him sometimes,” Bisca added. Jellal wanted to usher his neighbor out the door but his mouth felt full of cotton. “We should have a drink on your soonest day off. I'd love a friend close by. My husband travels a lot and this neighborhood can be so cliquish.”

“I can imagine.”

Bisca finally took a few steps back and exhaled. “Well, I'll get out of your hair.” She turned to Jellal briefly. “I'm so glad you finally found someone, Jellal. You need it.”

Jellal's headache flared. He liked Bisca, and she was wonderful as a caregiver, but she talked a lot.

“It was nice meeting you,” Miss Scarlet said as the woman turned to leave. Jellal reached up for his glasses – the habit of wiping his lenses on his shirt when nervous was an old one – but remembered he'd left them in his office. The two nearly identical girls stared wide eyed at Miss Scarlet. Only Yukino moved toward her and slid a hand into hers.

“I'm so sorry about Bisca,” Jellal offered. “She has a way of commanding a room.”

“It's fine, Mister Fernandes.” She glanced over the children who only blinked in silence. Jellal couldn't recall the house ever being so quiet since they'd moved in.

“Are you really our new nanny?” Sorano asked, scooping Lily up from the floor.

“Well –”

Jellal cleared his throat. “Yes. I mean, if she wants.”

Miss Scarlet's mouth twitched into a grin. Yukino still clutched at her hand. Around her neck was the ever present purple feather boa she loved so much. It was flecked with silver foil and she wore it nearly everywhere.

“I think we have a deal, Mister Fernandes.”

“When can you start?”

“Are you fun?” Sorano blurted. “The last lady was old.”

Miss Scarlet quirked an eyebrow. “Old?”

“Like super old,” Sorano rolled her eyes dramatically. “Will you take us places? And can we do fun stuff outside?”

“Um, yeah, we can do that.”

“Are you gonna live above us in the room with the sink?”

“Room with the sink?”

Jellal curbed the instinct to sigh. “She means the apartment on the third floor. It's not a room with a sink, that's a kitchenette.”

“Whatever.” Sorano shrugged.

“I think so,” Miss Scarlet answered. “Your uncle and I still have some details to work out.”

“I'm hungry. Let me know when we can eat something that's not spaghetti for dinner.” Sorano wandered off toward the kitchen. Yukino giggled at Erza's side and, still clutching her hand, gazed up at her with wide brown eyes.

“Sorano is opinionated,” Jellal offered. “I think it's part of her package.”

“It's fine, Mister Fernandes.”

Yukino yawned and tugged on the edge of Jellal's sweater. She finally released Miss Scarlet and reached upwards at him. With minimal awkwardness he pulled her into his arms and she settled against his hip.

“I've got to get her in bed,” he said apologetically. “When were you looking to start?”

“I had my things shipped to a storage unit and they're scheduled to arrive early next week. I can have the truck re-routed here, if that's okay?”

“That's fine.”

“And I can start in two days. I have some other things I should handle first.”

“Of course. I'll get someone upstairs to clean everything out for you before Friday.”

“Perfect! I'll make a list of items I need from you to make things run a little more smoothly and email it to you.” Jellal's mind raced. He had no idea what she meant.

“Don't worry, Mister Fernandes, it's just stuff like signed letters to present at doctor's appointments and to the school. I'll provide the letters and you'll just need to sign them.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Scarlet, I really apologize for being so unprepared.”

“Under the circumstances, I think I can let it slide.” If she hadn't been smiling at him, he'd have felt like a heel. Miss Scarlet turned to leave but stopped at the archway. “And, please, we'll be seeing a lot of one another. Call me Erza.”

“Right,” he blurted. “Erza.” Yukino laughed softly and poked him in the shoulder. “I'm Jellal. You can just call me that.”

“I'll get that list to you by tomorrow, Jellal,” Erza waved at Yukino before leaving them alone in the living room.

“She's got pretty hair,” Yukino whispered just before yawning.

“She does,” Jellal murmured, tucking her under his chin. “Let's get you in bed, okay? Want a movie?” Yukino nodded and sighed softly.

Winter

He found her alone at the dining table - the fancy one they never used because children plus carpet plus food weren't always a good combination. She was hunched over with her chin resting on her arms that were folded on the table. In front of her was an open shipping box, emptied, and a prettily wrapped holiday gift. Jellal took a seat across from her and slid one of the hot mugs toward her side of the table. Ezra took a surprisingly long gulp of the hot toddy before smirking.

"How did you know I'd need a stiff drink before opening this package?"

"Call it a lucky guess," he answered with a grin. "You've been sitting here since you got home and I've been trying to work out how soon I could join you before you wouldn't think I'm nosey for offering."

Ezra sighed and swirled the mix of whiskey, honey, and tea in her mug.

"It's that bad, huh?"

"Nothing from my mother is ever completely good."

"So no chance of an innocuous gift of socks or a pen set you'll never use?"

"I would never be so lucky."

Jellal poked the box around in a circle with his fingers. "It's pretty at least."

"She would never send something ugly." Erza sat up straight and chugged the rest of her drink and set the mug aside. "Time to do the adult thing, I guess."

Jellal quirked an eyebrow but followed suit with his own drink. The whiskey already made him feel on the fuzzier side. He watched Erza shred the paper more than truly necessary. The gift box was small and inside was an envelope. She scowled before opening the envelope and scowled even more when she peeked inside.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she blurted and then flushed. "Sorry."

"The girls are asleep, it's fine." Jellal couldn't quite help the way he leaned forward on the heel of his hand and smiled - he would've been able to help it if he weren't riding a whiskey buzz but that was neither here nor there. Erza stuffed the envelope back into the gift box and unceremoniously tossed it back into the shipping box along with the shreds of gift wrap.

"No pens or socks?"

"Nope," she said with an annoyed finality. "Plane tickets."

"Is she offering a vacation? Because if you need time off -"

Erza laughed loosely and stood. "I'll need a second drink to explain it."

He followed her into the kitchen. Erza skipped the tea and poured only whiskey first for herself before handing over the bottle. After a sip, she grinned.

"The plane tickets are twofold. She wants me back home and by only sending the tickets and nothing else she's letting me know my life here, and my stuff, aren’t important. Everything is replaceable to her and if it doesn't fit into her box, it doesn't matter."

"All that from plane tickets?"

"My mother is a complex woman, Jellal, I learned to play the game early in life."

"I'm starting to think my sister was the same way."

"Did she not approve of your field of study?"

"I don't think she cared one way or the other. But I do think she knew she was dying long before ever telling anyone but her attorney."

"Women are excellent secret keepers."

"She left me enough to pay off all my loans and to live comfortably as long as I stay here and raise her daughters. Your salary comes from the trust. Everything to do with this house and the girls comes from a trust I have nothing to do with. I'm not privy to exactly how much there is or how it works. I've only been told there's enough."

"Wow," Erza said, leaning against the counter. "My mother is at least transparent if you know how to look at her. She came by her money when my father died."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," she said before finishing off her whiskey. "But I didn't even know the guy. He was gone before I was out of diapers. For all I know she killed him."

Jellal stared at her in a baffled stupor.

"I'm kidding," Erza laughed. "Kind of. I just don't know what happened except that he's dead and mom controls the money."

"Well, we have that in common then." Jellal divided the remaining whiskey between their mugs. "What will you do?"

"Throw the boxes away and pretend they don't exist."

"Is that your own message to her?"

"It's my way of not responding to what isn’t the first or last attempt by her to control my life. I agreed to go to school at home in California and I took a job she approved of!" Erza was visibly more sloshy than she'd been twenty minutes before. "I even got engaged!"

Jellal quirked an eyebrow. He'd been curious about Erza for months. Most of his questions revolved around why such an educated woman was seeking employment as a nanny when she was so grossly over qualified. He could admit he had an inappropriate crush on her and the mention of a fiancé intrigued him.

"And yet, here you are husbandless."

"Smooth, Jellal," she said around another laugh. "He was a possessive idiot. I wanted to work, he said no. I demanded to work, he told me I was difficult."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Difficult."

Erza turned to face him fully and bit her lip in a grin. "You tell me."

"I find you extremely easy to get along with and a delight to be around." Completely without reservation he reached up to touch a strand of her hair that clung to the fleece shoulder of her sweater. "Even if you do shock me sometimes to make yourself laugh."

"That's just part of my charm," she said softly, inching toward him. "And you're easy to fool. You take everything literally."

"My mother insisted I was a charming boy but far too serious as a student. She passed away almost ten years ago."

"I'm sorry," Erza whispered.

He shrugged. "It's been a long time and she had a happy life."

"So there's parts of you that aren't lost up in the stars?" Erza blushed and cleared her throat when he tilted his head to the right. He didn't remember telling her his field of study. "You left some books out a few weeks ago. I was curious."

"I wouldn't have minded if you'd asked."

"I didn't want to pry."

"I wouldn't have considered it prying."

She smiled again and leaned into the brush of his fingers against her cheek. "What are you studying, Jellal?"

"Astrophysics."

"Sounds complicated."

"There's a lot of complicated parts of my life but astrophysics isn't one of them."

"Yeah?"

"For example, my current conundrum."

"Which is?"

"You."

"What about me?"

"I can't seem to stop thinking about you in a way an employer should never think of his nanny."

"That's an interesting coincidence," Erza said wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "Because I can't seem to stop thinking about you in a way a nanny should never think of her employer."

She didn't pull his hand away and when his fingertips brushed the curve of her neck she only tightened her grip on his wrist. Jellal moved like a man who'd never kissed anyone before, even though he had plenty of experience. The awkwardness didn't ease off until his lips finally pressed against hers. She tasted like whiskey and honey and tea and when she parted her lips to kiss him back there was a hint of the peppermint candies Yukino liked to crunch on when she needed a sugar fix in the late afternoon.

Erza was intoxicating. Even more so than the whiskey in his stomach. Her arms looped around his neck and Jellal didn't realize his hand had slipped beneath the bottom of her fleece sweatshirt until the pads of his fingers made contact with her back. He pulled her flush against him and the sound that came from her mouth flipped his stomach upside down. There was something about the way she kissed him and the way her hair slid through his fingers. He liked that her eyes smiled right along with her mouth and how she was so completely competent in all the ways he wasn't.

The sound of Lily's claws skittering across the floor tiles shattered the moment. Erza gasped and jumped back. She blinked and her hand flew to her lips in surprise.

"Am I fired?" she gasped in horror.

Jellal's head still felt full of the taste of her lips and he took a moment to focus past the memory and the lingering buzz. "What? No!" He exclaimed, stumbling over the words. "Why would you be fired?"

"For sexually harassing you," she whispered.

"You... you think you were sexually harassing me? Jesus, Erza, I think by all standards I was the one sexually harassing you! I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, you're just drunk!"

"That's not really better."

Erza bit her lip again and raked a hand through her hair. "We're both not quite... sober."

Jellal took a step back from her and hid his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to move away from her but he had to. "What can I do to fix it? Please don't quit."

"I don't want to quit," she whispered.

"Erza, I swear I can do better than this. I'm not a guy who just blunders ahead kissing people with no thoughts on - I mean, I realize that's what I just did but -"

She reached out suddenly and gripped his forearm. "Stop."

"Okay," he whispered, unable to disobey her.

"We're both adults. I work for you and there's a mutual attraction. We had some drinks and had a moment. We can get past this."

"Yeah," he agreed, even though he didn't actually want to get past anything. He wanted to kiss her again. Cold reality rattled in his head when Lily hopped up to the counter between them. "I actually had a reason for coming down here." Erza released his arm and pulled Lily against her chest. "And that was?"

"I'm going away for two weeks. I need to complete the last of this credit before the new year. Everything after that can be done with my professor here but I can't get around the requirement." Jellal scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He felt sober in his head but his body still hummed. "I'll be back three days before Christmas."

"I can handle all that. Sorano's winter break starts in a couple of days."

"I need to be back in Palo Alto by next Monday so I'm flying out on Sunday. I was hoping to get a ride to the airport with you and the girls?"

"I think Yukino would like that. She'll miss you."

"She's attached." Jellal sighed. "That's why I, we can't lose you, Erza. I'm sorry for kissing you."

"I care about the girls, and you," she tacked on quickly. "I shouldn't have let you kiss me."

Jellal nodded. "I'll email you my itinerary."

"Yeah."

They stood silently in the kitchen before Erza swept past him still clutching Lily to her chest.

He hadn't expected to feel homesick after only a week in Palo Alto but when his mind wasn't detangling theory, he was stuck back in Seattle. Were the girls okay? He knew they were. Yukino, and even Sorano, Skyped him almost every night. Despite her independent nature, Sorano asked him more than once when he was coming back. Erza was always in the background, folding down sheets and blankets. He couldn't help but get hung up on the way wisps of hair fell around her face as she leaned over the beds. The trails of scarlet had almost all his attention when his nieces spiraled into the inevitable scuffle.

"Will you be home for Christmas?" Yukino asked, adjusting her purple boa.

"I'll be home on the twenty-second," Jellal said, adjusting his glasses and glancing over his phone calendar. "That's in five more days."

"Five days?" Yukino whispered fretfully. "Are you sure you won't forget?"

"He's an astrologer, Yuki, he only forgets silly stuff like scarves," Sorano corrected. Erza could be heard in the background laughing.

"I promise I won't forget."

"Can we do the cookies when you get home? Erza said we should wait for you."

“That sounds like fun." Jellal's phone chimed with a message from his classmate. "Alright, girls, pass me off to Erza. I think it's probably bedtime."

There was a combined chorus of protests and the tablet was left to fall on its back. For several moments all he could see was the ceiling but he heard Erza coaxing the girls into bed. The room went dark and he saw nothing at all until the low light of the hallway made the falling bun of Erza's hair glow.

"So what's your sign?" He asked in the flirtatious tone that seemed to sneak into all their private Skype conversations.

"That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard," she said with a laugh.

"I just figured that since I’m an astrologer now I should try and calculate your future."

Erza laughed again softly and propped the tablet against the lamp he knew sat on the tea table beside the living room couch. She leaned against the arm and gathered her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm a Taurus."

Jellal tapped out a quick google search and ignored the messages from his classmate. "According to my crystal ball, you're patient, sensible, and reliable with an excellent sense of humor."

"Does it count as a sense of humor when it's just me saying things to throw you off guard for my own pleasure?"

"I think it does."

"What does your crystal ball say about my immediate future."

"I'm seeing strawberry vanilla macarons and the chamomile tea you save for just before bed."

Erza's cheeks dusted a shade pink he recognized even in the lamplight. "That's a very observant crystal ball you have there."

"It wouldn't be doing its job if it weren't observant. It helps that the subject is so captivating," he said softly.

"And what about you?" she asked in a low volume that matched his. "What's in your future?"

"A boring chat with a classmate and a night of exhausting study. The ball is clouded, though, which means I'm distracted."

"By what?"

"Everything I miss that's not here," he hedged.

"You'll be back soon."

"Yeah." The word came out as a whisper and his phone chimed again.

"You should answer that." Erza sat up and glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "I'm late for my date with cookies and tea."

"Right."

"Goodnight," she said with half a grin.

"Goodnight, Erza." When her image disappeared, Jellal flipped over on his back. He had work to do but he couldn't think of anything other than strawberry vanilla macarons and chamomile tea.

Yukino took the longest to fall asleep. She wouldn't let go of his sweater sleeve until her eyes drifted closed. Her purple boa had been passed down to the stuffed polar bear that sat at the foot of her bed along with the remains of the candy and trinkets that filled her stocking earlier that morning. The new boa, a bright pink one, hung from the post of her headboard.

Sorano's blankets were tangled around her knees and ankles. She scowled in her sleep when he pulled everything free and tucked her in properly. Despite being difficult sometimes she was just as insecure as Yukino. She slept surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. None of them matched but she always noticed when one went missing.

Jellal took one last look around the room before pulling the door closed. The second floor tended to be the warmest in the house but he wasn't quite ready to be alone just yet.

He found Erza stretched across the couch with Lily on her chest. Her fingers smoothed over the grouch of a cat's downy ears. The rainbow sweater Sorano had picked out for him was draped over the pillows behind Erza’s head. Lily probably hassled Erza to get it off him the second Sorano was out of view. Jellal could hear the rumbling purr from the archway.

"That cat is a ham," he said, taking a seat on the floor near her feet. She wore the fuzzy socks he'd given her to make up for her mother’s gift of plane tickets. He owed her a much better gift for taking such good care of his nieces but the socks made her smile.

Christmas was a wholly different experience with children. The day started early and now all he wanted was this.

"He and I have grown to love one another." As if to drive the point home, Lily stretched one paw toward Erza's shoulder and squeezed his yellow eyes shut. "See? He's a sweetheart."

"He's an old grouch that only likes girls."

"I think you're jealous."

"Very." Jellal grinned at her boldly. "He's got the best seat in the house." Since his return from Palo Alto the Skype flirting had turned into something much more tangible.

Erza rolled her eyes and hefted Lily up to the back cushions. He protested but resettled quickly. Jellal twisted around and crawled over her. She was soft beneath him and her fingertips lightly traced the tattoo that stretched over his eye and cheek.

"I know we agreed to -"

"Get past this?" she finished with a breath.

"I don't know if I want to."

"I definitely don't want to."

When he kissed her this time there wasn't a drop of alcohol in his system. The sticky fuzz in his head was all Erza. She was sharp like peppermint and sweet like sugar cookies and rich like red velvet. He knew he shouldn't take too much but she bent her leg and he felt her thigh press into his side. Erza didn't let him simply lay over her and take. Her hands were beneath his sweater and he knew she felt him hardening between her legs.

The sound of her ringtone was jarring. Erza slid her arms around his waist quickly and trapped him between her thighs.

"Who's that?" He breathed against her lips.

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

The phone went silent and he felt her smile. But she groaned loudly when the ringtone started over a moment later. Jellal dropped his mouth to her neck and left three kisses before pulling back.

"You really should take that. It could be important."

Erza exhaled harshly and snatched her phone from the tea table. "Mom always ruins everything." Her eyes found his again and she was apologetic. "I'm sorry. She won't go away unless I speak to her."

"It's fine," he said scooting back to the other side of the couch. "We really shouldn't -"

"No," she whispered. "We shouldn't. Merry Christmas, Jellal."

Erza cleared the living room and he heard her finally take her mother's call on the way up to her apartment. Jellal glared at Lily who only swished his tail.

"Somehow I think think this is your fault," he said to the old cat. Jellal stood and pulled the lamp cord before taking the stairs back up to the second floor. His bed was cold but what did he expect? The idea of warming it with Erza was ludicrous. He did actually know better than to dry hump her on the couch where either one of the girls could see.

No more kissing. No more anything. He was a grown man with sense. No more making out with the nanny.

He could, however, tend to the hard problem between his own legs. In his head he could have her any way he wanted with no repercussions. Professional or otherwise.

The girls never made it to midnight. Jellal rung in the new year alone while Erza, Sorano, and Yukino slept on the couch. One at a time he transferred his nieces to their beds and when he returned downstairs alone, Erza was awake and confused.

“Did I miss everything?”

“More or less,” he said with a grin, swooping down to pick up the piles of throw pillows that had been kicked to the floor by little feet. “I expected as much from the kids but you, Erza? Disgraceful.”

“I suppose I'm getting up there in age,” she agreed with a sigh.

“Maybe we should go back to calling the third floor a granny’s quarters.” He wasn’t fast enough to dodge the pillow lobbed at his head.

“I was going to offer you some of the belated Christmas gift I got from a friend but now I don't think you deserve it.” She stood and fluffed her hair.

“If it's more macarons I think I can live without the extra sugar.”

“Not even close,” Erza laughed. “Come upstairs with me and bring some glasses.”

Jellal grabbed two of the small glasses typically reserved for juice and followed Erza to the third floor. He hadn't been up to her apartment since just before she moved in. Considering recent developments he wondered if he should really be up on the third floor at all.

He stopped at the open doorway and almost didn't recognize the space. She’d filled it with her own belongings and everything about it screamed Erza.

“Wow,” he murmured. “I never thought this suite would look like anything other than an empty dorm.

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” she said pulling a box from the cabinet above her small refrigerator. It had a gold leaf logo embossed on the side he couldn't quite make out.

“I meant it as one.” Erza smiled at him and waved him over to her table - or maybe it was a desk. However she used it, the thing was solid wood and he appreciated the deep cherry of the grain. Erza opened this gift box with much more care than the one sent by her mother.

“My best friend from childhood married a guy who's family owns a vineyard. She sends me bottles of all kinds of stuff. This brandy is her new favorite thing.” She peeled back the foil and twisted the cap off. Jellal handed over the glasses and when she poured small portions he caught the hints of vanilla. Upon closer inspection, the scent was very strong. He was glad the stuff tasted sweeter than it smelled.

“I’m not much of a brandy drinker but this is nice.”

“Yeah?” Erza knocked back the whole measure at once and took a moment to form her own assessment. “This is totally not my thing,” she said with a laugh even as she poured a second round.,

“It's a nice bottle though.” He picked up the bottle and inspected the label.

“She’s got entire shelves filled with fancy bottles.”

“Full ones?”

“Oh, no,” she laughed again. “Mirajane’s always been a bit of a lush. The bottles probably don't have time to collect dust and sit in various states of half-empty.”

“So she has an experienced palette?”

“Indeed.” Erza said leaving her empty glass beside his on the table. “I asked you up here for two reasons, actually. The brandy was only half of it.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“You.” She shook her head and tossed her hair. “Us. I mean, this.” Erza gestured between the two of them. “We’re both adults and this thing where we kiss and hump like teenagers on the couch and then back away like it was nothing but a big oops is ridiculous.”

She was speaking very fast and Jellal quirked an eyebrow. He’d never seen her both determined and buzzed before.

“I like you, Jellal, but I also like my job. I can’t keep up with these random moments of crashing into one another.”

“Erza -”

She pressed a hand to his chest and shook her head. “I have a solution.”

“Oh,” he breathed in relief. For a moment he thought she'd planned on telling him everything was over as her New Year's resolution, which, he recognized would be completely fair. Her hand slid over his chest and up to his shoulder.

“I can compartmentalize if you can. During the day nothing changes. I do my job, and you finish your degree. Once the girls are in bed, we can set aside time.” She bit her lip in reservation. “Right? That’s a good plan, yeah? I can’t take wild abandon, Jellal. It’s too risky.”

“You really thought this through.”

“I’m sensible, remember?” She smiled and suddenly there wasn’t much space between them. “I can’t have an affair with my boss if there’s no plan.”

“This is how I know I made the right choice hiring you, Erza,” he whispered, seeking her lips. “You're so smart and practical.

Kissing Erza was the most selfish brand of wish fulfillment. He shouldn’t be in her apartment at all much less tangling his fingers in her hair. They’d never been so alone before and the palms of his hands didn't hesitate to find the bare skin beneath her shirt. Erza’s fingers hooked in the belt loops of his pants and she separated her lips from his. Her eyes pinned him to the floor as she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Jellal followed her across the small living space into her bedroom and his shirt joined hers on the floor.

All of her skin was soft and he took the opportunity to kiss every inch of it. She had a symphony of gasps and sighs. He hoped he'd have the opportunity to hear them all. Erza was practically perfect in every way. Where he pushed, she pulled. When he breathed in, she breathed out. She was both overwhelming and precise. The feel of her body beneath him was so much more exquisite now that there were no layers between them but the real delicacy of the evening was her weight above him. Erza had a touch that seared him all the way though. Her final sigh of the night was possibly the most decadent thing he’d heard in his life.

Scarlet touched him everywhere and he curled strands of it around his fingers. Erza hadn’t moved off him and he wasn’t going to be the one to break the spell of the moment. Finally she leveled her eyes with his and kissed him in a way that made him want her again.

“Can we do this?” She asked against his lips. “Or was tonight a New Year's one off?”

“I can keep the downstairs and upstairs separate, Erza. I like you too and I don't have one offs. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel something.”

Erza smiled and kissed him again, softer this time. “You should go before you fall asleep and the girls find us up here.”

“Have they come up here on their own before?”

“Only a couple of times while you were away. But if they woke up and you weren’t in your room, the next place they'd hit would be here.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Even as he said so, he didn't move. She kissed him once more before sitting up and tucking the sheet under her arms. Jellal gathered his clothes and stood. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Erza.” She grinned and fell backwards into her pillows. It wasn’t until he crawled beneath his own blankets that he realized he'd left his t-shirt on the third floor.

Spring

“Why do I have to make one for everybody in my class?” Sorano asked from her seat at the kitchen table. “I don't even like everybody!”

“Because it’s polite,” Jellal said over his shoulder. Dinner looked questionable but Erza had the night off. He already had the pizza delivery app open just in case things went south.

“Sometimes being polite sucks,” Sorano declared, sealing off the last envelope. Yukino giggled from her spot across from her sister where she drew sloppy pink and red hearts over Sorano’s extra cards.

“That's a sad fact of life,” Jellal muttered.

“What’s for dinner?” Her voice was from directly beside him now. Sorano leaned over and peered into the pan. “Should it smell like that?” She whispered.

“I followed all Erza’s instructions.” Jellal slighted and transferred the cut of meat to a board. “Let’s find out.” The beef was crisp and brown on the outside but the inside was another story.

“I think it’s still mooing,” Sorano said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you’re right.” He hated to waste the meat so he moved it to a baking dish for Erza to sort out another time. “Pizza then?”

“I’ll get your phone.”

Jellal spun around and took a seat next to Yukino. “These are pretty.”

“Thanks!” She pushed an especially garish one toward him and tossed the edge of her pink feather boa over her shoulder. “This one’s for you.”

“For me?” He exclaimed. “Thank you! I’ll put it on my desk.”

“Are you gonna make Erza a card, Uncle Jellal?” She asked softly. Innocently. Even though she couldn’t possibly know how he spent his late nights, the question still floored him.

“Why would I make Erza a Valentine’s Day card?” He tried to pose the query as casually as possible.

“Because you like her hair.” Yukino glanced up at him and smiled in her sweet way. “Is red your favorite color?”

“Well -”

Sorano leaned over the table and passed Jellal his phone. “You look at Erza the way the farm boy looks at Buttercup in that movie Yukino likes so much.”

“I don't -”

“Can we order pizza now?” Sorano cut him off and he wasn’t altogether sorry.

The three of them ate at the kitchen table and afterward Jellal helped Sorano pack away her cards in her backpack. Erza didn’t return home until very late. Jellal was already in his bed with his laptop when she stopped by his bedroom door on her way upstairs.

“I’m assuming the pizza boxes in the garbage are a good indicator that dinner didn’t turn out?”

Jellal pulled the glasses from his face and began to clean the lenses. “I don’t think a successful roast is ever in my future.”

“Did your crystal ball tell you that?” She asked softly with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“No, Sorano did. I put it back in the fridge. Maybe it’s salvageable.”

“Maybe.” Erza fidgeted with the cuffs of her jacket.

“What’s wrong?”

“My mom flew up to see me,” she whispered. Jellal tried to keep his reaction as calm as possible. “I had dinner with her tonight.”

“And how did that go?”

Erza sighed heavily and Jellal set aside his glasses and closed his laptop. He crossed the room and pulled her gently beyond the door and pushed it closed.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Erza,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ve never seen you this down before.”

“We fought. She backed off in the end but I don’t think everything she said was wrong.” Erza’s eyes were wary and he hated it. He didn’t like acknowledging that their relationship was not only deeply flawed but possibly temporary. “She accused me of fucking my boss to pad my resume.”

Jellal tried to remain impassive but he knew he failed miserably. “Is that -”

“No, of course not!” Erza scowled and pushed past him. She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it on an empty chair. “I don’t mean to be rude, Jellal, but I could have a job in just about any school in Seattle if I wanted. When it comes to early education I don’t have to pad anything.”

Jellal wished his pajama pants had pockets. His hands landed on his hips because he didn’t know where else to put them. “Is that what you want? I don’t think I can match a proper salary or benefits or -”

Erza’s arms slid around his waist and she pressed her face into his chest. “I’m not saying that’s what I want. I don’t even think she meant what she said.”

“How does she know that we - I mean -”

“My mother is a shrewd woman. She probably has an actual crystal ball. She said my life is out of control and I don’t know what I’m doing.” When Erza pulled away her cheeks were wet. “She’s right, Jellal, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“This is my fault. I should’ve never -”

“We went into this together, Jellal,” she whispered. “I hate that she made me feel insecure about a decision I - we made. My feelings haven’t changed.”

The words were heavy on the tip of his tongue and he couldn’t have stopped them if he’d tried. “I don’t think mine ever will.” It was a dangerously bold thing to admit but he didn’t regret it.

Her mouth didn’t fall open. Her eyes didn’t widen. She only kissed his lips and took his confession inside of her. For better or worse, Erza never made it up to the third floor that night.

She didn't mention her mother again and Jellal didn’t ask. He thought if she had more to say on the matter, she’d bring it up herself.

Jellal’s intent wasn't to eavesdrop. The hour was late and after spending most of his day stuck in his office, he’d only meant to seek her out to say good night. He heard Erza’s voice first and her mother’s over a phone speaker second.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter. I need to be on my own.”

“Oh, honey, you aren’t on your own. You’ve gone from living off one trust to another. This one just comes with an attractive employer who doesn’t mind fishing off the company dock.”

“I’m not a fish, mother.”

“I never said you were, Erza, it’s a figure of speech. I just think -”

“I already know what you think,” Erza snapped. “You said enough at dinner last week. I need you to give me space.”

“Erza, love, the last time I gave you space you brought home Simon. How can I be sure this Fernandes man isn’t the same type? He is dabbling with the help.”

“I’m not - wait, what?” Jellal heard a fumbling noise and what sounded like blankets being shaken out. “What do you mean about Simon? I dated him to please you!”

“Why on earth would you think an oaf like that would please me? Both he and his father were insufferable.”

“But… He was in my class and a legacy and -”

“Honestly, Erza, sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”

“That’s the most relatable thing you’ve ever said to me,” Erza muttered.

“I think it’s possible we’re both reading the same book, love, but we’re on very different pages. I trust your judgement when it comes to what you do with your degree or where you find employment. You are a capable woman in all ways.”

“Mom,” Erza’s whisper was the quiet kind that came before tears.

“I only worry that give too freely. You’re a natural nurturer, Erza. This man, your employer, what does he want from you? What does he stand to gain by having you in his bed? Is he the type to get bored and put you out?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you love him?”

“I -”

Jellal couldn’t catch a breath. He really should’ve left Erza to her phone call but his feet felt as if they were cemented to the floor.

“Does he love you?” Her mother pressed.

“I don’t know.”

Jellal’s stomach and heart sank. How could she not know? He supposed that would be because he’d never explicitly told her.

“Can we continue this another night, mom? It’s been a long day.”

Jellal didn’t stick around to hear the conclusion. He also had no interest in getting caught in the stairwell. As quickly and quietly as possible he retreated to his bedroom on the second floor.

Just after midnight the door cracked open and Erza slid through the darkness and under his blankets. Nothing was kept quarantined on the third floor anymore. Secrets were so hard. Her hands didn’t wander beneath his clothes and her kisses weren’t lustful precursors. She didn’t say a word before tucking herself into his side.

When Jellal woke in the morning, she was gone and the sheets were cold.

The cupcake top smeared with green icing for Saint Patrick’s Day left Jellal’s fingers stained with color. He stopped off in the bathroom on the ground floor of the building but couldn’t quite soap away the green. He supposed the embarrassment of green fingertips was not worse than hurting Yukino’s feelings if he’d rejected the offering.

His sister’s attorney occupied the entire seventh floor. Jellal wondered how a woman like Ms. Milkovich managed to retain such a friendly receptionist when he’d pegged her for a shark on their first meeting. The receptionist showed him down the hallway and through the office doors - no conference room this time.

“Mister Fernandes,” Ms. Mlkovich purred, standing from her desk and offering her hand. She waited for him to come to her with a smile like knives. “How’s everything coming along at home?” She asked as if she didn’t already know. “I understand that soon I’ll need to address you as Doctor Fernandes?”

“Mister if fine,” he muttered.

“Whatever you prefer.” She pointed at a cluster of chairs. Her nails were a deep blood red. The cushioned chairs felt as if they’d swallow him up. “What can I do for you today, Mister Fernandes?”

“I, uh, I just needed some clarifications on what happens once I graduate. I received an email from -”

“Navient, I assume? Your student loans and associated debts have been handled, Mister Fernandes.”

“Right. Well, I don't exactly know -”

“You’re free to seek whatever employment you like.”

“As long as we stay in Seattle.”

“Those are the conditions of the trust, yes. I’m sure someone like yourself won’t have a problem landing a position. Especially when the salary isn’t as much of a concern as it would be for someone else.”

“The trust does relieve those types of concerns, yes.”

“How is Miss Scarlet working out for you?” Jellal wasn’t sure if Ms. Milkovich’s expression sharpened or if it was his conflicted conscience that made it seem so.

“She’s great. The girls love her and she handles everything I can’t.”

“She’s a lovely woman.”

“Uh,” Jellal readjusted himself in his chair. “She is.”

“Very capable.”

“Yes.”

“Incredibly overqualified for her position, though. I can’t imagine what sorts of perks you had to offer her besides going over the suggested salary we discussed.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Ms. Milkovich sighed in a deceptively casual way. “Have you spent much time with her?”

“I do see her every day.”

“Will you keep her on when Yukino starts school in the fall?”

Jellal’s mouth hung open dumbly. His mind wheeled.

“You won’t need a full-time nanny once the little one is in school.”

“I - I hadn’t considered -”

“I wouldn't imagine you’ve considered much at all Mister Fernandes. Has Miss Scarlet grown on you?”

“She -” Jellal deflated and wanted to implode in on himself. “I slept with her.”

“Of course you did.”

“It's been going on for months.”

“These things happen.” Her tone was sympathetic but her mouth was positively deadly.

“It’s completely unethical.”

“And why is that? Did you force her?”

“No! It’s nothing like that!”

“So she willingly seduced her employer?”

“It’s not like that either!”

“Then tell me how it is, Mister Fernandes. What exactly is the bee in your bonnet? Is it that you’ve become a ridiculously cliche man who bangs the nanny?”

“That’s a crass way of putting it.”

Ms. Milkovich shrugged. “If it helps, she’s technically an employee of the estate, not you. I suppose if you truly wanted to get technical, you’re an employee of the estate, as well.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You provide a service for the deceased’s children. You raise them and see them safely into adulthood and their own inheritance in exchange for your life as it currently is. Resources, Mister Fernandes. I work for the children in trust until they come of age, and you work for me. Technically, Miss Scarlet works for me, as well.”

“Are you going to fire her?” He whispered in horror.

“Why would a fire a woman who, by all accounts, we are lucky to have?” Ms. Milkovich straightened in her chair. “Mister Fernandes, I don't care what you and Miss Scarlet do on your own time. If you want to keep her on as a caregiver even after Yukino starts school, that’s not my concern. I can’t deny that the children benefit from her presence, and as I’ve said before the best interests of the children are my job.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Ms. Milkovich stood and smoothed her skirt. “Find a therapist if you’re so conflicted, Mister Fernandes. You can certainly afford one.”

Summer

The girls had been giggling and calling him Doctor for days. Jellal didn’t think he felt any different, though. He’d been offered a position at the University of Washington, which, felt sudden but he had no reason to decline. The commute would be taxing but he was already familiar with the department.

Yukino’s fourth birthday party was a day filled with pink and purple feathers, balloons, and a display of cupcakes that took up half the kitchen table. Erza had handled the guest list and planning. Everything went smoothly until Jellal found himself cornered in the kitchen by the mother of a child in one of his niece’s playgroups. He didn’t know her name at all, which made the whole situation worse.

“I find it hard to believe an attractive man like yourself will be a single father for long,” she said, licking a glob of pink icing off her fingertip.

“Well, I’m not really looking to -”

“Men always say that. Everybody’s looking for something.”

“I’m pretty busy actually. The girls, and school, and now this new job -”

“I heard you had a fancy job in the city.”

“Well, Bellevue is still part of the city so -”

She closed in on him like a tiger. “You talk a lot.” She leaned against the counter next to him so that they were touching. “Maybe we could go out sometime and do less talking?”

A spike in the sound of children shrieking startled him but the woman didn’t budge an inch.

“I think, uh -”

“Hey, Jenny,” Bisca’s voice made him jump and he’d never been happier to have the woman grab the room by the horns. “Your daughter is out there smearing blue shaving cream all over her cute little dress.”

“It’s wa-” Jellal snapped his mouth shut when Bisca's glared at him.

The woman, Jenny, smiled up at him once more before brushing past Bisca.

“You really know how to get yourself in a pickle don’t you, Jellal?” She asked, plucking one of the last cupcakes up for herself.

“I was just standing in here! She descended on me!”

“What’s going on?” Erza appeared in the doorway with a half-empty trash bag.

“Jellal got caught in Jenny’s net,” Bisca said with a wink.

“Oh, no, Jellal, I’m so sorry!’ Erza laughed. “I should’ve warned you about her.”

“She’s a predator.”

“You look like you came out of it okay,” Erza said with a smirk. She reached under the sink for a new trash bag and poked him in the ribs on her way back out to the party.

“You two seem close,” Bisca said offhandedly, peeling back the cupcake paper.

Jellal’s ears burned. “Do we? I mean, she’s here all the time so -”

“It’s important to like the people who take care of the kids.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“How long have you guys been together?”

Jellal froze. “Well she was hired last fall -”

“No, Jellal,” Bisca said softly. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

He slumped against the counter. “Is it so obvious?”

“Not really. I just know you pretty well and I’ve never seen you so comfortable. It was your pathetic awkwardness that demanded I introduce myself to you in the first place. I felt bad for Yukino when you quite obviously didn’t have a clue what you were doing.”

“Erza and I are complicated.”

“I don't need details, hon. She obviously makes you happy and the girls love her. You’ll work it out.” Bisca tossed the cupcake paper into the trash bag Erza left behind. “I’ll help you guys get rid of the guests. These kids look like they’re on their last leg.”

When Erza found him again the sun was hidden and he sat alone on the back porch. She plopped down beside him and took the beer bottle from his hand and finished it off.

“Are the girls asleep?” He asked.

“They passed smooth out. I noticed you got all the trash squared away.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of waking up to the mess.”

“Well, you’ve set a precedent now. Every party from here on out will have to top the one before it.”

“Two of them a year.”

“Yep.”

“I think I can handle it if you’re here too.”

Erza’s head fell to his shoulder. “Things can’t stay as they are, Jellal. Everything changes always.”

“I don’t want them to change.”

She smiled up at him sadly. “You don’t get a say in that.”

“You’re right,” he said, staring down at his hands. “I know things can’t and won’t stay like they are now. But I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Erza curled her hands around his arm and sighed. “I don’t either.”

Autumn

Jellal pulled into the driveway and slid the key from the ignition. The day had been gruelingly long. Had he been so obnoxious as a postgrad? He’d like to think he wasn’t. The students he worked with annoyed him more than his nieces on their very worst days.

The house smelled like food and he made a quick stop in his office to shed his work thing. When he finally made it to the living room, Sorano nearly gave him a heart attack with a backflip off the couch.

“You’re home!” She exclaimed. “Erza said I could take gymnastics classes!”

“I said you could ask him about it,” Erza called from the kitchen.

“We’ll talk about it this weekend,” he said as Sorano attached herself to his arm. “There’s a place on 112th I pass every day.”

Sorano squealed and darted off toward the stairs. Jellal passed the pile of backpacks and Erza’s heels on his way to the kitchen. All their belongings mixed together now and the chaos of it eased him. He found both Erza and Yukino in the kitchen.

“Will you help me with my homework?” Yukino asked from the table.

“They give homework in pre-k now?”

“It’s just a coloring page,” Erza said, pushing out a chair for him with her foot. “She did do a first grade level worksheet in my office today, though. So that’s interesting.”

“More math stuff?”

“We can have her tested next year when she starts kinder.”

“How was your day?” He asked, sliding an arm around her shoulder. His fingers tangled in her hair the way they always did.

“Long,” she sighed. “But I like it. The school is great and I think it’s a good fit for me.”

“Erza said I could keep snacks in my own box in her office for when I sit with her in the afternoons,” Yukino piped up. “I can even have a nap on the play mats!”

‘Are you sure you don’t want to be in the play gym with the other kids?” Erza asked. “I’d hate for you to be bored with me.”

Yukino smiled and gathered her crayons back into the tin. “Nope. I like the quiet and you’re my favorite besides Sorano and Uncle Jellal.”

She disappeared into the living room with her pink feather boa trailing behind her. Jellal turned to Erza and grinned in the way he’d resigned himself to recognize as sappy.

“You love me right?” He asked. “I’d understand if -”

“Oh, shut up, Jellal.” She leaned in to kiss him briefly before standing. “I’m happy.”

Erza pulled a perfectly cooked roast from the oven and Jellal vaguely wished he could understand the magic behind cooking large cuts of meat slowly over several hours.

“By the way,” Erza said, reaching for the knife block. “My mother is flying up in two weeks. She wants to meet you and the girls. I think Sorano will love her.”

Jellal’s entire body clammed up. Of course Sorano would love her. She loved all things commanding and bossy. He sucked in two deep breaths before deciding Erza’s mother couldn't possibly be any more frightening than Ms. Milkovich.

Could she?

[rantingfangirl]

Cross Life Chapter Eleven: Line Walking

Summary: Moving across the pond was supposed to signify new beginnings for the Kirkland family. Arthur’s parents seemed to take that a bit too literally for his liking.

Chapter Index

Read it on FF.Net    Read it on AO3

“I’ll see y’all on Friday. Now get out of my classroom.”

Arthur grumbled as Mr. Vargas haphazardly tossed his binder full of sheet music onto his desk, sending papers and pencils to the sides and down to the floor. The latter stretched his arms out, his white dress shirt tightening around his biceps, his shoulders scrunched up.

The choir room broke out into a fit of noise, some individual voices louder than others. Most talked about what they had gone over during practice, what pieces they were worried about and how they went flat on that one high note. Others simply talked about their plans for the weekend, or the amount of homework they had that evening.

Grabbing his backpack, Arthur slung it over his shoulder, pressing his hand against his back and stretching. The backpack weighed down on his shoulders, and he got the strange feeling that it was unzipped, its contents open for everyone to see, even though he knew that wasn’t the case. As the year has gone on, it’s gotten heavier and heavier, though the crime could be mainly blamed on the three thick hardbacks he alternated between during the rare free moments he had. Each time he finished one, it was replaced with another the next day, just as heavy but just as addicting as the last.

Without saying goodbye to those in his section- he still had never bothered to learn their names, and when he was told, he immediately forgot, Arthur stalked out of the choir room, deflating as soon as he stepped into the silent hallway. He was the first one out the door.

Normally, he wouldn’t be able to wait to start his walk home, to begin those fifteen minutes where he was by himself and free, but today, he was doing something.

Something important.

Arthur slid his arm into the free strap of his backpack, the weight becoming more balanced as he turned right into another corridor. On the other side of the hallway, coming from the opposite direction, was Kiku. Arthur gave him a sarcastic sneer, a common greeting in their relationship, fully expecting one in return. What he got, however, could only be at best called a timid wince.

It was hard to believe that Kiku Honda, the one who had been a tiny needle stuck in his ass since the beginning of August, was actually cowering from him. Cowering, as if Arthur were some monster that had been waiting under his bed for months, waiting until he could see a soft white sock poke out onto the floor to grab and pull under. It was funny, really, considering the circumstances of their first meeting, how confident he was then compared to now.

And if Arthur was being serious, if he was really being serious to himself, he was curious. Of why this sudden change had happened. Not because he actually cared for Kiku- god no, he could never give a damn about such a slithery, slimy snake, but it made him wonder.

Though it was far-fetched, perhaps Alfred and Kiku were going through a patch of rocky terrain in their relationship. He remembered the way the latter shied from the former’s hand back in the library, the movement being far too snappy and harsh to be a fear of touch or anything of the like. Besides, he had seen them hold hands before, like when Arthur tracked Alfred down to declare his apology- and what a disaster that had been- so a phobia was out of the question.

Of course, Arthur could be overlooking it, be digging too deep into what could be something as simple as Kiku having a bad day, but he sincerely hoped it wasn’t. If they were fighting, if their string was growing taunt, then it would certainly make his plan go down much easier.

Arthur didn’t bother to say anything as he walked past Kiku, the latter’s pace quickening to a speed walk, not so much as sparing a single glance after his sneer. Soon, he was alone once more, the sound of his footsteps bouncing off the hallway as he strolled.

This afternoon was a gamble, as yesterday and the day before that had been. He was already gone by the time Arthur got out of Madrigal practice on Monday, and wasn’t in the library yesterday after his tutoring session with Alfred. Arthur supposed he had already left, and cursed Alfred for insisting on sitting outside in the courtyard. The latter had claimed, in his very own words, “it’s gonna be nice n’ cool outside, and I don’t wanna get stuck in a stuffy, dark library,” though Arthur was sure he just wanted to sabotage him.

However frustrating, Arthur figured he couldn’t enforce his hidden agenda on Alfred, no matter how much he wanted to, without risking it all. Besides, he wasn’t necessarily against sitting outside- so long as it wasn’t raining, he would hate for his books to be damaged- and hadn’t opposed, shocking himself and most likely Alfred as well. If the way his eyes widened after Arthur nodded was any indication.

He stopped before the library doors, taking a breath. It had not changed since the last time he was here, and he knew that inside, it would be the same as it always was. Books lined in faux wood shelves, the surfaces of the later made to look like anything but particle board. The dark carpet in desperate need of a vacuum, saturated with spilled Gatorade, soft drinks, and coffee, and even if it were to be thoroughly cleaned, it would never be the same as the first day it was nailed in and stepped on. Tables with declarations of love and phone numbers scrawled and etched into it, complete with matching chairs on their last leg, only a few years from toppling under someone.

And it was the same everywhere he went. No matter how many times his mum picked up his family and moved them, no matter how many times he went from one town to another, they all stayed the same. Different layouts, different buildings, different material, sure, but they were stable. Solid.

Unlike his family, with his brothers constantly moving in and out of the house, sometimes with an irritatingly shallow girlfriend clinging to their arms, their thin fingers twirling their thick and glossy hair, mouths spouting anything to please. With his mother lacing false promises and lies around her as if they were fine jewelry and silky lace, picking one off and throwing it at him when she needed to. With his father going through different versions of himself as a doctor would with bandages, ripping one off and tossing it away, only to replace it with another one he liked better.

Libraries were safe, calm, secure, and Arthur almost hesitated as he reached for the metal handle. He would be bringing his chaos inside, dragging it in with him and pushing all those peaceful years out, and everyone would let him do it without so much of a fight, without so much of a single thought of the consequences.

Arthur thought of leaving, just dropping it until another day when he saw him in the hallway or the courtyard. So he wouldn’t bring his plan and all that came with it into such a sacred place. But the damage had been done already, he supposed, and had been since the first tutoring session with Alfred.

And besides, he told himself, it was a necessary sacrifice to make.

He pulled the handle, shivering at the wave of chilly air that burst out. Another thing that had stayed consistent. Arthur wasn’t sure if the librarian would suddenly decided that a heater would be necessary soon, as in a couple weeks from now at the very maximum, or in the dead of winter. If the latter, then perhaps it would be warmer outside than in the library.

Balancing his weight to quiet his footsteps, Arthur beelined for the side of the library, windows between each bookshelf displaying slivers of the empty courtyard. Clusters of four tables were surrounded by a guard of shelves, and Arthur swiftly ducked his head to the side, checking to see if anyone was there. When he found it empty, he moved on to the next, making sure to go slow and quiet.

Row by row passed, textbooks, biographies, magazines, and casual picture books behind lined behind him. Each time he came across a group of tables, he pressed himself to the side of a bookshelf, slightly leaning over to get a good look before moving on.

He got closer and closer tot he back wall, the painted concrete covered in signs with inspirational quotes that Arthur doubted anyone relevant every said. As he reached the last group of tables, prepared for failure and being forced to try it again tomorrow, Arthur saw him.

Heracles sat in the corner, a stack mixed with hardbacks, paperbacks, and magazines piling high, almost as tall as he was sitting. Arthur froze, watching as he scanned down one page, stopping to scribble a quick note down in the lined notebook next to him, before flipping to the next. A speed reader, then. How wasteful, skimming over paragraphs, when the author spent hours hunched over each one, barely taking note of what the sentences contained. Whereas Arthur took his sweet time, reading each word and processing it with care, rereading pieces of dialogue to see what he could add to his analysis of each and every character. It made him think, made him wonder what type of reader he-

Arthur shook his head, forcing the thought away. It was unnecessary, he didn’t need that type of information nor would he ever. He rolled his shoulders back, the weight of his backpack making it more shallow than he would’ve preferred. He hadn’t been noticed yet, and if he kept quiet, probably wouldn’t be, which game him a decent amount of time to prepare.

Arthur thought of what he was going to say, or at the very least how he was going to begin the lengthy conversation they were going to have, and how he was going to deliver it in such a way that didn’t make him seem or look desperate.

Pushing some wisps of hair out of his face and taking in and letting out a deep breath, Arthur strolled to the table, his stride long but casual. He slid into the closet chair, dropping his backpack haphazardly into the one next to it. Arthur’s books knocked against the wood of the table, which he would normally wince at and immediately move to check their health, but he ignored it- not without a fair share of pain, however- in favor of focusing on Heracles.

The latter snapped his head up in surprise, his fingers tightening around the edges of his current book. From the confusion on his face, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth just a little bit gaped, Arthur could tell that he had no idea who he was. Good. Very good.

Arthur smirked, propping his cheek on the palm of his hand. “Heracles Karpusi?” The mentioned nodded, slowly closing his book shut, not before shoving an colored and scribbled on index card in the middle, setting it on the very top of the stack.

Heracles pursed his lips into a fine line, shaking his messy hair out of his face. He rolled his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth. “Yes, and who’re you?”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head and waving his hand in dismissal. In this situation, it wasn’t necessary to know, and if Kiku had mentioned him before, then it could put everything at jeopardy. So, at the moment, “That’s not important.”

Heracles deadpanned, though Arthur could see his eye lightly twitch in annoyance, just barely noticeable. The latter’s smirk, which had appeared around the time he had taken the opportunity to seat himself, grew lazy and half-assed.

Making a show of himself, Arthur perked up in his chair, looking around for anyone that could be eavesdropping or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, he knew that the library was empty, had practically taken a tour of it, except for the two of them, and had made sure of it, but it was always nice to double check. If any of their conversation were to get out, even just a little snippet of the more important words, then it would be a major pain in the ass for the both of them. Especially for Arthur.

Especially for Arthur.

Smacking his hand against his back pocket, just to make sure it was there, Arthur pulled out a pack of gum, offering a stick to Heracles. It was the product of a late night stop at the gas station earlier this week, his father needing to fill up his tank and Arthur wanting to get out of the house for at least five minutes. He had been chewing it sparingly, having only about a stick a day, but he had made the mistake of letting Vlad get an eyeful during one lunch period. Now, the contents had quickly diminished, and Arthur only had about a row and a half left.

Heracles shook his head, raising his hand as Arthur tried to hand it to him. The latter shrugged, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. It crackled and snapped in his mouth, the minty taste almost making him wince.

“So, Heracles.” He chewed out a tough spot in the gum, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth.

Heracles raised an eyebrow, still looking as if a million piece puzzle had just been set in front of him, no paper with any directions in sight. He opened his mouth to speak, only for Arthur to quickly cut him off.

“How much do you love him?” Quick and blunt, he decided not to mention the word “crush” to him, lest he get angry, denying their relationship to be such a short, trivial thing, and walk away.

Heracles paled, or as much as his olive skin would allow, his shoulders tensing up and his jaw clenching. As he spoke, he stuttered, his normally lethargic demeanor turned into something rushed. Panicked. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Arthur’s smirk turned smug, and he leaned closer, his stomach pressing up against the table. “Now, that little reaction of yours tells me that yes, you do know what I’m talking about. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” Arthur lifted his head, studying his fingernails for dirt and places to file down. “How long?”

Heracles shook his head, pushing his chair back. This time, he had his backpack with him, a black cargo pack with two large pockets buttoned closed on the front, and slung it over his shoulder. Arthur noticed with not a lack of mirth that there were multiple cat charms chained to it. How cute.

Fully expecting this kind of reaction from him, Arthur sat there, watching as he picked up the entire stack of books with ease, along with his still-open notebook, balancing it on one arm. Not even a single one wiggled.

As he began to walk away, his pace slow as to not harm the stack, Arthur studied the lines and grooves of the table, not even sparing him a glance as he spoke. “Do you know how easy it would be for your little secret to get out?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Heracles freeze, and knew then that he had won. “You aren’t exactly subtle, to be quite honest. Someone would just have to point it out, give Alfred and his little band a small push, and then everyone would know about it.”

Heracles stepped up to the table, his hips pressing against the edge. He was tall, much taller than Arthur, and considering the way he was carrying those books as if they were rag dolls, much stronger than him as well.

Then again, he didn’t look angry per sé, but someone had once thrown a swing at Arthur while smiling without a care in the world, so he wasn’t taking any chances. Just in case, Arthur situated his arm a bit closer to the other and leaned away from him. At least that would give him a little bit of time to block.

Instead of going in for the punch, like Arthur anticipated- and he would’ve punched back, too, considering how long it had been since he had last gotten into a fight- Heracles raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. Waiting.

Arthur motioned his hand to the other side of the table, specifically the chair that Heracles had been sitting in before. The latter glanced at it, before returning his attention to Arthur. Taking in a sharp breath, he motioned again for him to sit in the chair, giving him a smile filled with sarcasm when the fool actually did.

When Heracles spoke, his voice had returned to its default quietness and slow pace, though Arthur could hear it shake. Out of fear, wary, or a bit of both, he couldn’t tell, and if he were to be honest, he didn’t really care. “What do ya want.”

Arthur propped his feet up on the chair next to him, his right foot resting against his backpack, and he hoped he wouldn’t fall. Cool and nonchalant, that was his act for the afternoon, and if he were to mess that up, it would be… embarrassing, to say the very least.

He shrugged, smiling as if he were in a daze, throwing his hands up in the air. “I just want to help you.”

Heracles deadpanned, slowly blinking. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as much as his backpack- which he had not yet taken off, even while sitting in a chair, a petpeeve of Arthur’s that made his eye twitch- would allow him. “You were the one who just said that you were willin’ to out me to Alfred.” He said his name with a sneer, several teeth showing. Arthur noticed that there was a small gap between his canine and incisor. Adorable.

Arthur made himself look offended, breaking years of habit to raise his chest and shoulders as he breathed, putting his hand to his collar bone, his index finger pressing into his neck. He furrowed his brow, slowly shaking his head, his mouth gaping.

Heracles didn’t seem impressed with his performance, his jaw tense, and he looked displeased when Arthur spoke, the latter’s voice breathy and his words slow. His reaction to it was unfortunate, really, considering that he had picked this straight out of his mother’s catalog of acts. “I didn’t say that I was going to out you, I simply said that I would nudge them in the direction. I’m sure they’re smart enough to figure it out themselves.”

Even with as dramatic as he was being, and how much he was currently reminding himself of his mother, Arthur couldn’t deny the fact that he was having fun with this. Pure, unbridled fun. Even when he knew that Heracles was feeling the exact opposite. Especially because of that.

Heracles huffed, slumping in his chair. “That’s the exact same thing.”

“No, they’re very much different.”

A frown. “I doubt that.”

Arthur shrugged, dropping his act, pursing his lips into a fine line. “If that’s what you want to think.”

The two fell silent for a while, Arthur’s more intentional than the other’s. He tapped his fingers against the table, nodding his head slowly. Occasionally, he sent a glance towards Heracles’ direction, making sure it was noticed, measuring if and when he was about to crack. Eventually, after about a couple minutes, Arthur got what he wanted.

Heracles threw his hands up, muttering something under his breath. It was too quick for Arthur to hear even a single word, but he was sure that it was nothing that he particularly wanted to hear. Either that, or an exclamation of impatience, which he sincerely doubted. “Fine. How are you gonna help me?”

Arthur smirked, picking at the skin surrounding one of his fingernails. This was the moment of truth. When everything that Arthur had been working for these past two months would come to fruit. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Despite the significant importance of this, of this very sentence he was about to say, Arthur said it as if it were nothing, simply a statement of the weather that morning or what they had for lunch at school. He didn’t even glance at Heracles as he spoke. “What if I were to tell you that there is a great possibility that Kiku could love you back?”

The atmosphere surrounding the table tensed, a great secret finally revealed to the light of the world. Heracles stared at Arthur, his eyes as wide as saucers, the color leeching from his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut, pursing it into a fine line. His face blanked, and at the moment, Arthur’s confidence in the success of the afternoon faltered the tiniest bit.

Heracles stood, gently setting the stack of books on the table, and pushing his chair in. He rolled his shoulders back, along with his neck, and walked away, grabbing his notebook before hand.

Arthur’s smirk fell, turning into more of a half-assed sneer, and he signed, deflating. That certainly went the way he was expecting it to go.

Heracles left his stack of books, most likely figuring that a librarian would pick them up the next day. How rude of him, to put that much more work on them when they already had such stressful and taxing jobs.

Arthur had to admit, however, that he was curious, and reached for the first book on the very top, the one he had been reading when Arthur had first initiated their conversation. He pulled it over to him, scanning the cover. If only because he was curious of what such a disrespectful brat could possibly be reading.

And at the very top, above a picture of a sculpted bust that had certainly seen better days, in platinum colored letters over a soft blue, read, “Greek Mythology: Battles of Will, Jealously, and Punishment”. Arthur couldn’t help but snort at that, dropping it haphazardly onto the table.

What a damn coincidence.

Vlad shivered as they stepped out into the courtyard, running his hands up and down his arms. October was in full fling, summer having been long ushered out by fall. Dead leaves crunched under their feet, covering the concrete ground and empty tables.

Arthur eyed their usual table, which sat against one of the concrete walls of the pit in all its worn and black beauty. It sat under a tree, one that had already lost most of its foliage, only bits of its magnificent metal top visible. Vlad noticed him staring, and gave him a sympathetic look, seeming equally miserable, even though their torture had yet to even begin.

No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to, they would not be sitting at their table today. No, for they were being forced to sit with Mathias and all of his friends.

They had told Lukas that he could go by himself, that he didn’t have to have him and Vlad intruding and ruining their fun, only for Lukas to deny it. Arthur brought it up again, perhaps for the fifth time, only for Lukas to shake his head.

“I don’t wanna leave y’all alone.”

Arthur tsked. “But we’ll be interrupting-”

“Not at all, Mathias said that I could bring you two if I wanted. And I want to.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Vlad deflate, though Lukas didn’t seem to notice. Normally, Arthur would be supportive of this type of thing, and would go in without a complaint but with watchful eyes and a prepared defense, but this was different. Very different.

The table was a hostile zone, the Montagues to their Capulets, with his dear friend unknowingly caught in the middle of it. It was a silent battle, his side the only ones in the dark. And they would be right in the thick of enemy territory. It was unfortunate, really, but Arthur had no choice but to go along with it and smile and nod his head at all the right times and places.

It was all he really could do, if he wanted to keep up the persona that he had so carefully and painstakingly crafted around his friends, and Arthur could only hope that the others weren’t cruel enough to send it all tumbling down. Not that they would even care, he supposed.

As they quickly descended the concrete stairs into the pit, Mathias caught sight of Lukas, waving to him with an elated smile spread across his face. And though Mathias was focused on his boyfriend and only on him, everyone else at the table turned their heads towards Vlad and Arthur, a few looking between the two with unfamiliarity, the others glaring at the latter. Either way, their eyes were sharp as knives and their faces as cold as ice.

Arthur ignored them, however, keeping his chin up and facial expression pleasant, even when he oh-so desperately wanted to scowl and sneer. He couldn’t, though, he wouldn’t, not when they expected him to. Not when they were counting on him to.

“Lukas~!” Mathias hopped up from the bench, almost tripping as his foot was caught on the edges, but quickly recovered, running up and pulling Lukas into a hug. He was fast, really fast, to have crossed the pit so quickly, but Arthur figured that with his record of being on the football team, that was a given.

Lukas giggled as Mathias whispered into his ear, putting his hand on the latter’s chest. Arthur was suddenly reminded of how sickening the two were when they were with each other, and it baffled him that even though they had been dating for about a month now, they had still not left their honeymoon phase. At this point, he doubted that they ever would. At least not any time in the foreseeable century.

Grumbling when Mathias pulled away, Lukas turned back toward Arthur and Vlad, his smile sweet and serene. He motioned to Mathias with his free hand, the other still on his chest. The two looked like a middle class couple standing in front of their suburban home, their brand new, shiny minivan parked behind them. Disgusting. “Guys, y’all remember Mathias.”

Mathias smiled, giving the two a short and light wave. Arthur stayed silent, simply giving him a nod of acknowledgment, letting Vlad do the work.

The latter cocked his hip and head to the side, his signature smile already spreading across his face. Vlad crossed his arms, seeming smug. “Oh, trust me. We remember Mathias. He’s all ya talk about.”

Lukas blushed as Mathias’ eyes widened, his smile growing wider. By then, the latter had moved his hand to Lukas’ lower back- or at least, Arthur hoped that that was where it was- and tugged him towards him. “Aw~ babe, you talk about me?”

The rosy pink on Lukas’ cheeks turned into more of a cherry red, and Arthur had to fight to hold back a gag. Vlad choked, moving his hand to cover his mouth, the other one twitching, as if it was ready to join.

Lukas opened his mouth to say something, which would probably be something equally or even more mush than what Mathias had cooed at him, only to be- thankfully, for once- cut off by Alfred.

“Ay! Mathias! Quit yer chit-chattin’ and get yer ass over here!”

Mathias froze, his ever shining and strong smile faltering just a tiny bit, but enough to be easily noticed. It was quickly back up again, however, even stronger this time, and if Arthur hadn’t noticed it at the exact moment the mess up had happened, he wouldn’t have realized it.

Sending the three of them a quick, apologetic look- for what, Arthur guessed he would never find out- Mathias turned, strolling towards the table, Lukas on his heels. He waved for them to follow. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

A few faces at the table were easily recognizable, such as Antonio and Mr. Vargas’ grandson, whose name had already escaped him. Arthur supposed that he might’ve seen the others in the hallway once or twice, but could never bring up the memory. They all certainly seemed to know him, however, as they glared at him with mixed amounts of venom, one looking a bit more default than the others.

It made Arthur wonder if Mathias visiting them for lunch a couple weeks ago was more of a scouting mission than anything. To see what he would do in their presence, to see if Arthur would attack him with his friends sitting next to him. It made Arthur grit his teeth, to think that they could be using Lukas to get closer to him.

Thankfully, Mathias chose to sit at the end of the table, far away from Alfred and the little snake clinging to him. Maybe the two had decided to provide a unified front today in the face of their greatest enemy, show that yes, their relationship may be crumbling into little bitty pieces- at least, it looked that way- but oh boy, could they pretend the opposite. Pretend a unified, strong, loving front.

It made Arthur feel sorry for them, in a way, but he quickly reminded himself that they deserved everything they got, and everything they will get.

The four stopped at the end of the table, Mathias taking a few steps back so everyone could get a good look at them. In a way similar to the time of his confession, Lukas seemed to shrink into himself a little bit, though this time it seemed more of a nervous habit than anything.

“Guys.” Mathias smiled, his layers of freckles scrunching on top of each other. “This is Lukas.”

A boy Arthur didn’t know, one with fair white hair and tinted sunglasses, gave Mathias a toothy smirk. “Lukas, as in the main one, or Lukas the side dude?”

Alfred’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped, looking at the one who spoke with pure horror laced in his voice. “Oh my god, Gilbert. Stop. Don’t.”

Gilbert’s smirk turned into more of an ashamed frown, and he reached for his bottle- gray metal with a red top, grumbling behind it before taking a swig. “So, I guess that joke stopped being funny.”

Mathias’ smile was tense, and he took in a sharp breath, letting it out through his nose before he spoke. “Yes, it stopped being funny months ago. Months. Ago.”

Gilbert blushed, looking down. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur watched their exchange, trying his best to keep in a snicker. What came out was more of a choking sound, and Vlad looked at him, a knowing smile on his face. The latter covered his face, his thumb digging into his cheek, as if he were trying to keep his own laughter from falling out.

Remember who the particular joke was at the expense of, Arthur slightly leaned forward, looking across Vlad and to Lukas. He was frowning, the blush from before faded from his cheeks. Arthur would’ve thought that he had not understood the joke, would’ve believed it, until he noticed that his lips were slightly pursed.

“Anyway.” Mathias’ cheery smile was back up, though he flashed a quick warning look to those at the table. A possible threat, should they choose to make anymore jokes without thinking them out thoroughly beforehand. “This is Vlad…” He trailed off, wincing.

Vlad smiled, nodding his head. “Vlad Popescu.”

Mathias frowned, his eyebrows scrunching. He bopped his head side to side, pursing his lips into a fine line. “Yeah… I’m not even gonna try to say that.”

The table laughed, some louder than others, while Mr. Vargas’ grandson just rolled his eyes. Arthur noticed a fault in his act, however, as there was a small, tiny smirk on his face.

Mathias chuckled along with the group, softly shaking his head. Alfred, followed by a few others, tried to pronounce Vlad’s last name with varying levels of accuracy, Vlad watching them with an amused smile.

Arthur thought that he was perhaps the only one who noticed that Mathias’ smile and laughter had faded, his lips pursed into a fine line.

“And this, uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck, adjusting his feet, looking at Arthur as if he was going to reach out and bite his head off. As if he were the boogie monster, searching for more high schoolers to chew and munch on. When Mathias spoke, he did so quickly, in a rushed way, trying to get the words out of his mouth as fast as possible. “And this is Arthur Kirkland.”

The laughter at the table was shot, everyone silent. The mood soured, the elephant in the room suddenly remembered, the silent problem that they had been desperately trying to ignore.

In a playful, fun manner, one that was unusual for him, Arthur stuck his tongue out at them, bopping his head side to side. He ignored the sneers he received in return.

Vlad snickered, though seemed a bit confused, shaking his head at Arthur’s antics, while Lukas’ silent brooding had broken into a small chuckle. Arthur smiled, pretending that being bubbly and cheerful was his default mood, even if he was feeling almost the exact opposite. Smile and nod, he told himself, be the person they didn’t expect him to be.

Eyes wide, brow shot up, Mathias nodded before motioning to the bench. Vlad and Arthur crowded onto the bench, Lukas making a last-second decision to move to the other side. Arthur made sure to sit at the very edge, so he could easily slide out in need of a quick escape.

Mathias perked up, making a small, “oh”, sound, standing again. He chuckled breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. A habit, maybe. “Forgot to introduce everybody to y’all.” He cleared his throat as Arthur and his friends leaned forward, examining those at the table just as they did them. Lukas and Vlad with a bit more curiosity and much less hate than Arthur.

Mathias nodded his head to each person as he said their name, each one giving a small motion of acknowledgment in return. “Uh… I’ll go in order.” He began with his row, starting at the very end. “Alfred F. Jones, Kiku Honda, Ivan Braginsky, and me, of course.” The third of the mentioned, Ivan, smiled, while Alfred gave a half-assed grin. Kiku only deadpanned. Mathias turned his head to the bench on the other side, where Vlad and Arthur were sitting, doing the same type of introduction as he did previously. “Y’all’ve already met Gilbert Beilschmidt, then there’s Antonio Fernández Carriedo, and Lovino Vargas- Mr. Vargas’ oldest grandson. There’s also Francis, but he’s been out for the week.”

Lovino frowned at his own introduction, seeming displeased to have been associated with his grandfather. It must’ve been a regular thing, Arthur figured, for him to be so against it.

Alfred sniffled, crunching his face up as if he were trying to summon fake tears. He smacked his hands together the way someone would if they were deep in prayer, shaking them once or twice. When he spoke, his voice was laced with faux sadness. “We’ve lost our boy Francis to the flu.”

The table burst into laughter, Mathias yelling, “Rip Francis”. Arthur cringed as they earned several looks from the surrounding tables, some frowning and others rolling their eyes and returning to their lunch.

Gilbert, who had stayed silent during the entire exchange, was frowning as well. He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat. He seemed to have recovered- if only a little bit- after his failure at humor, feeling enough confidence to speak again. “So, uh, how have y’all been settlin’ into yer new relationship?”

The conversation launched off at that, with Mathias and Lukas raving about each other and their date together. And though he had heard both sides in a total of around a million times, Arthur smiled through it, laughing at all the parts he was supposed to, along with everyone else.

Mathias and Lukas exchanged sickening smiles as they talked, Arthur having to occasionally shove down a gag and Vlad failing to.

Arthur sometimes found himself leaning down to look at the others at the table, measuring their reactions to certain parts. At any time Arthur was mentioned, Alfred winced the tiniest bit, hiding it behind Kiku’s hair. The latter tensed each time, swallowing hard, but relaxed and smiled a few moments later, giving a few loving glances in Alfred’s direction.

He was sure that he was the only one who could tell it was fake. Their movements were too tense, too robotic, as if they were only doing it because they were expected to. As if everyone figured and knew that they were going to do it, and would raise questions should they not go along.

And he had to admit to himself, though not verbally to any one else, that it was amusing and relieving to see it.

He looked away, knowing that if he stared for any longer he would be caught. As he turned his gaze to the left, Antonio- he already had to see his neighbor at least once a day, for god’s sake-glared daggers at him, a scowl etched on his face. Arthur smiled in response, bright and kind, and returned his attention back to the conversation at hand. He smirked when he heard Antonio quickly mutter something under his breath, something that anyone else would cringe at.

Perhaps Antonio should consider leaving his boyfriend to use that type of act, Arthur thought. It wasn’t doing much good for him.

Arthur perked up when Mathias and Lukas fell silent, just staring at each other with wonder and awe. Arthur was almost tempted to pull out his phone and look up how long the honeymoon phase of a relationship was supposed to last, but decided not too, if only because he didn’t want to drain his phone battery thinking about something so stupid.

The conversation had fallen flat, with everyone looking around, trying to think of a new topic. Occasionally, someone would open their mouth,  prepared to say something, only to close it, a dejected look spreading across their face. The whole situation at hand was terribly awkward, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to slide out of the bench and walk away, off to somewhere quiet. Maybe the library.

After what seemed like ten minutes, like ten years, Vlad perked up, his eyes wide and a full-fledged smile twisting his mouth. So~. He looked around the table, giving each person a glance before moving on. “What’re our plans for Halloween?”

Arthur groaned. He had completely forgotten about the holiday a little more than a week away, a while he didn’t do anything, at the most leaving his house until the wee hours of the morning, he knew that this year wouldn’t be the same case.

For the first time since their lunch session had began, Alfred’s eyes widened, a bright, wonder-filled smile displaying straight white teeth on his face. He took in a sharp breath, shallowly waving his hands. “Oh my god. I love Halloween! There was this one time in middle school where Kiku came over to my house and we toilet-papered Mattie’s- oh, that’s my twin brother, by the way- room and it was hil-ar-i-ous! Kiku, ya remember that?” Alfred smile at his boyfriend, who only nodded back. Seemingly deeming his response valid, Alfred, laughing as if he were a child in a candy store, put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Ah, man. Y’all should’ve seen Mattie when he walked into his room. From the way his hands were twitchin’, you could definitely tell he was gonna strangle me!”

Arthur laughed along with the rest of the table, not entirely seeing the humor in his story, Alfred pulling Kiku close as he joined in. The latter seemed uncomfortable in their new position, pushing his shoulders up and bracing his hands on the edge of the table. Alfred didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, his laughter didn’t fade, nor did his smile falter. Not even the teeniest bit.

Either these two were always like this, even at the very start, or Alfred F. Jones was one of the greatest actors Arthur had ever seen.

Mathias nodded his head as he chuckled, taking in a shallow breath when he calmed down. He shook his head before turning to Lukas. “Are you guys doin’ anythin’? For Halloween?”

Just as Arthur was about to open his mouth, to deny that they had plans, Vlad swiftly cut him off, nodding enthusiastically. “We’re gonna go trick-or-treatin in my neighborhood. There’s this old lady a couple blocks down from my house who gives out some big-ass chocolate bars every year.”

Arthur groaned, just thinking of all the chocolate he was going to be getting. American chocolate that made him want to puke his guts up. A few people turned his way, but he ignored them, instead favoring on reminiscing on his British sweets that he had been forced to abandon.

Maltesers, Cadbury Eggs, Smarties- the chocolate ones, not the American flavored cocaine. All of the delicious candies that he had to leave back in the UK, his mother not allowing him to take even on a small bag on the plan with him or pack one in his suitcase. As if she genuinely believed it would be the same here.

And now, here he was, stuck in a country whose chocolate would only appease those who had never tasted their superior British counterparts. It was a shame, really, that they would never be able to taste what he loved and adored so dearly.

Clearing his throat, he looked to Vlad, who was staring at him with a raise eyebrow. Arthur tried his best to look confused as he spoke, raising the tone of his voice. “Wait. We are?”

Vlad nodded shallowly, Lukas staring at Arthur as if he had just said the stupidest thing possible. “Yeah, man, we always go over to my place.”

Arthur deadpanned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve never even stepped foot into your house.”

Vlad perked up, his eyes widening. “Right~. That’s right.” He nodded as if he knew it all along, Arthur having to hold in a snort.

The table fell silent for about fifteen seconds, until Mathias perked up, his smile bright. “I know what we could do!” Everyone looked towards him, their faces revealing varying amounts of interest. Lukas smiled, face serene, the ever doting boyfriend. Perhaps Kiku should take notes. “We could all meet each other and go out of Halloween together!”

Arthur opened his mouth, along with a few others, to object, but was quickly cut off by Vlad, who straightened his back, rolling his shoulders. The latter smiled, one that almost rivaled Mathias’, before yelling at the same pitch, “Oh my god! That sounds like a fantastic idea!”

Arthur groaned, along with Lovino, the latter rolling his eyes. There were a few quiet complaints from the others, Ivan deadpanning, and from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Kiku the Snake start to deflate a bit.

Nodding enthusiastically, Lukas grinned. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

The three began to talk, making plans that the others would no doubt be forced to participate in. With the actual holiday being a not too far away, Arthur didn’t have much time to prepare himself for the night of hell, a memory that he would no doubt shut out of his mind afterward.

Leaving them to talk, with his eyebrows raised in an interested expression, Alfred leaned forward, hunching over the table. Arthur rolled his shoulders back, forcing a lazy smile over his face, rolling over possible answers to Alfred’s question as he spoke. “So, Arthur, how long have you been in the States?”

Swallowing down a snort, Arthur bopped his head side to side, looking off, pretending that he actually had to think about it. He shrugged, clicking his tongue. “Oh, late July, maybe.”

Alfred nodded, seeming satisfied with Arthur’s answer. “How do y’all celebrate Halloween in England?”

Arthur sighed at the question, not entirely expecting it. His family had never been too big on it, nor anyone in his neighborhood, his mother claiming it an excuse for Arthur to terrify young children. Nevermind that it Dylan and William were the ones doing such a thing, with Allistor and George cheering them on. But Arthur had always been blamed for everything, from putting worms in Peter’s wellies to shredding one of his father’s proposition letters. There wasn’t anything that he hadn’t done in his parents’ eyes.

Not that he really cared anymore. Arthur had long stopped trying to convince him that it wasn’t him who committed the crime, his resolve crumbled after falling on deaf ears more times than he could count.

He shrugged, curling his lip and furrowing his brow. “We don’t really do anything. I mean, some younger kids go out, but that’s about it.”

Those who were listening nodded, Alfred seeming a bit disappointed. Arthur had to hold in a scoff, just barely doing so, pursing his lips into a fine line. He was just about to open his mouth, about to ask what was wrong and what had them acting like their puppy was brutally murdered, when Antonio- Antonio, of all people- cut him off.

“Speaking of moving in, how did your family enjoy the Tarta De Santiago? Y’know, the almond cake that my mother spent hours preparing and making?” Arthur could taste the venom from his voice.

Arthur took in a sharp breath, giving a smile that mirrored Antonio’s. He had almost forgotten about that, which was a shame, since now that he thought about it, that moment was probably one of the highlights of his year. Relaxing, leaning back, with his smile turning nonchalant, he waved Antonio’s silent accusation away. “It was wonderful. It really… hit the spot.”

He knew enough of basic Spanish to know that what Antonio cursed at him wasn’t anything pleasant. In a quick, brutal succession of words, all the conversation at the table ceased, everyone silent and watching. How dramatic.

Arthur quickly put his hand over his mouth, his eyes widening. He tried his best to make himself look shocked. Distressed. Ever the victim who did nothing but respond to a simple question, only to be attacked for it.

Vlad straightened his back, glancing at Arthur as Lukas hopped up from his bench and quickly stepped over to them. He turned towards the end of the table, his expression wary and concerned. “Is everything alright here?”

Keeping up his act, if only because he was curious of what would happen if he were to go along, Arthur leaned back and to the side, whispering to his friends in a hushed and frantic tone, forcing a couple stutters along the way. “Guys- I don’t think that I’m wanted. Here, I mean.”

He was quiet enough that while Lukas and Vlad would be the only ones able to hear him, the others would definitely be able to hear the hushed sound of whispers. Arthur made a quick glance up, reveling in the pure wrath slathered across Antonio’s face and the irritated ones near him. It was hard, so, so hard, not to break into a smug smirk.

Lukas frowned, shaking his head, wringing his fingers. He let out a shallow breath, slumping forward, leaning in as Vlad turned around. “No, Arthur. Of course you’re welcomed. Maybe-” Lukas sat up, sending a short glance in Antonio’s direction, who was still seething, before turning back to Arthur and Vlad. “Maybe Antonio’s just having a bad day. Mathias said that he’s usually sunny and sweet.”

Arthur doubted that, instead thinking that Antonio had a bad day when he had to see Arthur, a daily occurrence, but decided to go along. He looked at the ground, wiggling one of his shoes- Converse, as he had been encouraged to try them out- and nodded timidly.

Even though he wasn’t even that deep into his little game, he could feel the rage radiating from Vlad. Arthur quickly turned around, seeing his friend’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing. He tried to hide it, but Arthur was close enough that he would have been blind not to have seen it.

If Lukas noticed it, he didn’t show it, not even a twitch of the eye. Instead, he was focusing on Arthur, his concern growing more and more. Arthur had to hold in a snort, if only to keep his act up.

Vlad’s mood softened, if only a little bit, and he said with a sympathetic wince, “Maybe we should go…”

Lukas looked up at Vlad with no small amount of shock, before turning to Mathias. The latter winced, shrugging his shoulders, looking unsure about what had just happened. It was almost as if he had expected Arthur to lash out back at Antonio, to hit with just as much, if not more, wrath as he received.

Interesting.

Deflating, Lukas sighed and shook his head. He stood, leaning over the table to whisper into Mathias’ ear, and when the latter nodded, kissed him on the cheek.

Vlad put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. Sensing that they were- finally- about to leave, Arthur stood from the bench, hanging his head and slouching his shoulders.

“Um, we had fun.” Lukas gave everyone at the table, save for Antonio, a small, forced smile, nodding his head. “Maybe we should do this again.” Unlikely, but Arthur figured he was just trying to be polite.

Where Arthur expected Mathias to be the one to respond, Alfred perked up, smiling and nodding his head enthusiastically. “We definitely should! I’m lookin’ forward to it!” As he finished, he sent a quick glance to Arthur, and the latter could’ve sworn he saw his smile falter. “Y’all have a good day.”

Vlad’s hand moved from Arthur’s shoulder to his upper back, rubbing it in a circular motion. After grabbing their backpacks, softly groaning at the weight, Lukas caught up to them, sorting between which one belonged to who.

As Arthur slung his over his shoulders, he clenched the straps, his knuckles turning white. Details, details were what made it convincible, made the act into something real.

As they walked away, though, heading to their own usual table on the other side of the pit, Arthur couldn’t help it. He turned, looking straight at the one they had just departed from, its occupants staring back. Antonio was still seething, Kiku simply giving a disinterested sneer. What was the most surprising was Alfred, whose smile had watered down into more of a wince, his brow furrowed. He actually looked worried.

But that all changed, their expression turning into ones of shock when Arthur, just for them, broke his act into little piece. Making sure that his friends wouldn’t notice, he smirked, a smug little thing that even his mother would be proud of, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it side to side.

If he were to recount this lunch period ever again, then Arthur wouldn’t be exaggerating when he would say that Antonio’s howling could be heard throughout the courtyard.

FYI, just writing those few paragraphs about chocolate in the US was painful to my American soul. Ghirardelli is some pretty good stuff.

I’ve realized that I mention Arthur’s older brothers without anyone actually knowing who they’re supposed to be. Allistor is Scotland, William is Wales, Dylan is Ireland, and George is Northern Ireland. And, of course, Peter is Sealand. It’s really weird when people write Wales, N. Ireland, and Scotland as England’s brothers without including Ireland? That just really gets to me? I mean, I know Hima listed those three as his brothers, but it just feels… weird. So Arthur will have four older brothers in pretty much all of my fics.

Also, thank you thank you thank you to all those who participated in my survey for chapters 1-10! It was really nice to read what y’all had to say about what you liked and what I could improve on. While you may not think so, it helped a lot! Arthur is, of course, the favorite character, but I was also surprised to see Vlad show up a lot. Really, I’m just making my portrayal of Vlad as I go along, cause I’ve never really focused on Aph Romania, so it’s nice to see that everyone’s liking him so far. The least favorite character is a mix of Arthur’s mother and Kiku, which is definitely what I’m going for.

Once again, for those who participated, thank you so much! I’ll have another one for chapters 11-20 cause oh my god, it helped so much. I’ll be surprised if Cross Life doesn’t reach chapter 35, cause we’re not even halfway through yet. The chapter for Arthur’s plan will be in the next couple months or so (and I’m really nervous about it), cause I want it to happen by the end of the first semester.

Thank you for those who wished me good luck with school, as you can see from my late update time (one whole month, yuck), it’s already bearing down on me. I honestly did not expect this much homework, but what can you do :P. I’ll try to update as soon as I can, which will probably mean I’ll be a two weeks off at the most, but just know that I’m constantly working. I won’t discontinue this, cause honestly, Cross Life is my entire life right now. I constantly think about it.

Finally, I really wanna write Gilbert realistically and without using stereotypes (I’ve done a lot a research just for his short appearance in this chapter) so if I ever accidentally write anything offensive, please tell me. You would not believe how many tabs are open on my computer for research. Gilbert will be showing up more and more as the story goes on, because I love his character so much

Sorry for such a long note! I ramble too much. Anyways, thank you so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Eleven: Line Walking, and I hope to see you all soon! The next chapter will take place on Halloween, so I’m really excited about that. Have a fantastic morning, day, and evening!

[writevswrong]

*FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART ONE*

I know I promised more theories but I couldn’t help myself! Please remember it is fanfic-so try not to murder my heart and soul. :)

Nessian Part One by L.J. Lafleur 

It’s been sixty-one days, exactly sixty-one days since the war. Since the violent beginning met a grizzly end. Sixty-one days since I saw my sisters conjure more courage, more fight than I could, than I did. It would be daft to say the war didn’t change me. I just didn’t realize how much it would.

Staring out the window in my room, I could see the garden Elain had been working so diligently on. I would watch her as she spent hours perfecting the courtyard-creating a garden that would put the Spring Court to shame. I couldn’t speak to her. After I abandoned them when we arrived back, retreating to my room in their time of need, I couldn’t face her. Even now, through the distance and window pane, I could barely look at her. Feyre reminded me of mother and Elain, she reminded me of father. Both of our parent’s dead. Both death’s I’ve witnessed, I watched utterly helpless as they died right before me. Both reminding me of the horrid memories that I can never erase.

My feet moved me away from the window, sweeping me towards the small shelf with my favorite novels. Someone had built a shelf when I was bathing, just above the cozy filigree green and cream fabric chair, and stacked all the novels I treasured. How anyone knew of them, I’ll never know. I guess we all have our secrets.

I scanned the shelf, my eyes falling on the chestnut leather bound at the end. A series of poems, love and death, sun and moon. The usual poet’s choice of topics. However, this wasn’t usual, nor is it unusual. It’s purity in the form of ink. My fingertips gently touched the leather, pulling it out of its new home. I opened to the first page, my eyes scanning the small print until the book slipped out of my slender hand.

The sound of leather smacking against the wooden floor reminded me of Illyrian leathers, bracing themselves against the army of Hybern. The army of weak demons and blood thirsty slave drivers. The book splayed opened, pages unveiling the words I never taught Feyre, the words of failure and cruelty. 

This happened once before, when we first returned, I tried to read. To escape. I couldn’t get past the penetrating silence, the painful ringing in my ears the quiet cursed me with. It was similar to the silence that radiated through me as my power surged before emptying to save…to save…I can’t even say his name in my head. I even failed him. To protect him, us.

Decadent emerald walls edged towards me, slowly caving in like they had many times before. Before they could swallow me whole, I ran to the roof. Breathlessly clinging to the railings edge as I looked towards the horizon, towards the cobbled streets disappearing into the azure sea. This was the only place where there were no walls to keep me, no cauldron to imprison me, no king to attack me. I still couldn’t take baths without buckets, sleep in unforgiving darkness or face the fact that I had no more enemies to defeat.

“You missed practice…again.” Cassian’s commanding voice emphasized, again. His wings tucking behind him as he stood beside me, careful not to touch my skin. If he is the sun, I am the moon. His skin had darkened from several days of travel; and while his grew darker, mine became paler-unveiling a system of veins.

They stood on the roof top deck, overlooking Velaris. The sun had felt different, even though it was a fireball above us, it felt strangely cold. The wind and mountains, the sea-all these natural beauties had felt distant, colder since the war. It had been several weeks and normalcy had not replaced the ache each one of us felt, that much I knew.  

“I’m sure you managed just fine by yourself, bastard.” I replied with venom, hoping it would scare him away.  

Cassian’s eyes darkened, his lips twitched, “how will you defend yourself in the next war? Books?”

“I haven’t…” My voice failed me, I crossed my arms, forming what little barrier of strength I had left.

“You haven’t read? You’re not reading?” Concern lined his face as his eyes traced over my body searching for signs of external damage, of bloody wounds before gazing at my neck. The one he had once grazed his lips against.  

I let out my held breath, slumping my shoulders without realizing as a small pond pooled in my eyes, “No,” I whispered. The sky felt like it was bulging, ready to collapse on top of me. I looked up instinctively, imagining the fleet of Illyrian warriors turning to dust with a sharp ray of light. A single tear breached the surface of my lashes, another blink and he would see, he would know of all the internal wounds I kept hidden from everyone. I turned away from him, dropping my trembling hands to my side-careful not to look up again.

Cassian’s calloused hand gently glided down my forearm as he moved closer. The warmth of his skin invading mine, down to my iced marrow and my ruptured heart. I could feel him towering over me, a god of war and steel, his shadow casting down upon me. The space between us ached, it screamed at the separation-the distance. Cassian’s smell lingered in my nostrils, incredibly potent, even more so delicious. A shudder threatened to rip through me but I stopped it, with whatever power I had left, I stopped it. It was a similar feeling to when his tongue flickered against my raging pulse.

“Do you think of them when you look at the sky?” I asked not only to distract myself from the overwhelming heat and smell that wrapped around me but for reassurance, that I wasn’t the only one. He stepped closer, the gap between them evaporating. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe-not with him this close. The leather against his chest touched against my back, I could feel his wild heart beat match mine.

Cassian sucked in a deep breath, the sun touched my hair as he looked up. An excruciating minute longer, and my head was covered by his shadow again. “Yes-I’ve never spent so much time looking at my boots.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood in protest, I could feel his hazel eyes soften as stared at my bony spine pushing through my skin. “And do you ever see,” I coughed to clear the lump in my throat, “do you ever see your blood on your hands? Our enemy’s blood on your hands? My…my blood, on your hands?”

He let out a sharp breath, as if he was hit in the balls by my knee again. It took him a moment to digest what I was asking, what answers I was seeking. Or maybe it was just to recover from the unspoken words we all thought about.

“What I see most is you. I see you, Nesta.” Cassian paused, “I see the warrior I fought for, the woman I almost lost. The same woman I was ready to overturn the next world and the next just to find you again and do things the right way.” His voice tickled against the nape of my neck, “like I promised. And this time, not fail you,” he turned away as I turned towards him, letting the cold sun touch my hair as he rubbed his face, “again,” his voice almost broke as he burrowed his eyes into me.  

I stared at him, my eyes widening as they brimmed with tears. My bottom lip quivered in defiance as I raised my chin. I opened my mouth slightly, I tried to protest, to reply, but my voice failed me-again. I had seen him look defeated before, when I stepped out of the cauldron and his wings, his beautiful wings had been shredded to nothing. And then again, when he told me to run as he fought off Hybern. My heart thudded against its cage, screeching, thrashing.  

“Weakness is when you feel helpless, when you can’t move forward or backwards. Stagnate.” His head dipped, strands of his darker than night hair fell into his face as his hazel eyes raised to meet mine. “You, Nesta Archeon, are not weak. Take care to remember that.” Cassian’s voice had barely raised above a whisper, not for lack of strength but because he was emanating it through his hands that wrapped around mine.

I couldn’t take it; his eyes could see the deepest parts of me-the depths that even I didn’t want to venture to. The part that stole from the bastard cauldron with spite and malice. That cursed my past, present and future. I swiftly dropped his hand to turn away from him as my quiet sob found its way through me, making my shoulders rise and fall. The stillness stature I usually could maintain vanished as I shook uncontrollably.

Cassian stepped away from me, a building frost replacing his body heat. “My lessons are everyday at seven am,” his cocky voice rising with his left brow, “be there-unless you’re scared to get your ass kicked like your sister.”

“Yet it was me who saved your ass on the battlefield,” I replied, as sharp as the blade that I twisted in Hybern’s neck. I wiped the tears from my flushed cheeks before he could see either reaction. I still couldn’t look at him, if I looked at him then he would see the emotions I had pushed him away from seeing. I can’t let him see, I can’t let him in. I rebuilt the walls within, wall after wall until I was nothing more than bricks and iron.

“Remember that the next time you feel weak, Nes.” He muttered into my ear, his warm breath caressing my entire being.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, turning so quickly I thought I might topple over. My blazing blue eyes were matched with his, eye level and absolutely thickened with passionate angst.

“Nes,” Cassian replied smoothly, the corner of his lips turned upward. He raised his wings and with one flap down, he had sky rocketed into the air.  

I wanted to look up but I couldn’t see him without seeing the hundreds who had died. I couldn’t see him without hearing my blood curdling scream in my ears as I called to him in battle-begging him to be with me. My trembling hands shook, pulling my attention downwards. The twist of my lips had altogether disappeared, tears leaking heavily from my eyes. I’ve lost control, not only of my life but of my reactions-my body.

“You’re not weak.” I repeated to myself over and over until the tears stopped shedding and the ache in my chest dulled. “Thank you,” I mumbled, covering my eyes as I took a deep breath before heading downstairs to my room.

On the stairs down from the roof, I could hear the singing of Elain in the garden several walls down. The sound of metal clinking as Elain handed Azriel her shovel and spike, he released a frail smile and even the movement of his lips-I heard it. I could hear the brush strokes of Feyre, painting Rhysand in their bedroom. His seductive laughter curling around them like a dark curtain.

A sickening burn churned in my stomach which only quickened my steps till I reached my room. I slammed the door shut, forgetting about my newly developed strength as the sound reverberated against the walls. My back slid against the wooden door until I reached the floor in a pile of onyx skirts. I studied the plain obsidian dress, the tight sleeves and bodice were crushing me, digging into my thinning flesh.

Flashes of Tomas’ hands ripping at my skirt, broken pieces of straw beneath me as I dug my nails into the flesh of his face. My screaming echoing through the barn as he pulled at me until I kicked him in his hardened staff. My caught breath as I ran, my thundering heart as tears burned down my cheeks. “You are not weak,” I whispered to myself, closing my eyes.

A second flash of Feyre, the curse breaker and Elain, the seer and me-the repulsive older sister who failed them. Venom and rage pumping through me until Feyre took on the role of protector, of savior. Another flash of my father breaking, begging and until he became nothing more than a shell…until saving us only to die at the hands of Hybern as I did nothing.

My shoulders stretched as I rested the back of my head against the door. “You are not weak, you are not weak.” I repeated as I softly banged the back of my head against the door. Several deep breaths later and I slowly rose, my back stiffening, my heart jolting at the thought of what Cassian said. Of each word, each letter that he carefully crafted into an arrow.  

“I am not weak.”