#I feel like the eyes blend into the light colored hair and I’d rather them stand out a bit more

[quibbs126]

Here’s some sketches of young Ancient Cookies

I was just trying to go off of what flashbacks and concept art told us for their designs. By far the easiest was Dark Cacao, but that’s probably also because I’ve drawn him a few times before. Plus he’s all cape here

Originally I was just gonna draw Dark Cacao, Pure Vanilla and Hollyberry, but then I decided later on to try to come up with something for Golden Cheese and White Lily. With White Lily’s design, I just used the hair we got in the Academy flashbacks. For Golden Cheese, @sparkytheflame35 was again kind enough to give me some pages of her from the concept book, so I just used bits of that to cobble together a design for her. Also I’ve noticed in her official art that it looks like her hair is two slight different shades? Like her left side is more orange but her right side is more yellow. Not sure if it’s just a shading thing but I put it in regardless

I actually had a lot more fun than I thought I would drawing Golden Cheese, I might have to draw more of her later on

Then down below we’ve got some random sketches

First we have basically how Dark Cacao became part of the group. Basically my headcanon is that he was this mysterious silent warrior of the Great Icing Ridge, who would go out into the wastes and help those who found themselves in danger. He ends up finding the others stuck in a snowstorm and unprepared while also being attacked by monsters, so he steps in and takes care of it, and helping the group find shelter. Later when the snowstorm subsides and he helps them get back, and just before he plans to take his leave, Hollyberry, unaware he was trying to leave, basically drags him back with them to get a drink at the inn, grateful for his help. He is powerless to stop this. One thing leads to another and Dark Cacao Cookie decides he wants to join them on their adventures, and so the day they go to leave, he meets with them, bringing all his things and indicating he wants to join, and they welcome him with open arms

Also the group grew one by one, with the order following the (presumed) release order of the Ancient Cookies. So it goes Pure Vanilla (off on a pilgrimage), Hollyberry (looking for an adventure), Dark Cacao, White Lily (she and PV had a falling out since the Academy, but they ended up making amends and she joined them), and finally Golden Cheese (I dunno how she joined)

Then I wanted to draw Pure Vanilla just snapping at someone, because I think he deserves to be just a little feral sometimes. The Cookie he’s saying this to probably said something very rude about one of his friends, and he wasn’t having it. No one was expecting it, and so they’re all slightly terrified, especially when he goes right back to happy in an instant. They all learn not to tick Pure Vanilla off

Then I just wanted to draw a feral Golden Cheese, so I drew that. Not sure where “feral chicken mode” came from but it just did

Anyways, I think that’s all I have to say on the matter, so hope you enjoy!

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

Listen hear me out. A nb reader with Alcina and one day readers gets to wear the strap and “top” our 9 foot baddie ! Maybe reader makes Alcina beg and after Alcina is super surprised and slightly embarrassed because she’s never been successfully topped before. If it’s to crazy just tell me !

Not crazy at all! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: NSFW

The carriage makes its way around the craggy mountainside. You open the window slightly and take a few grateful mouthfuls of fresh mountain air. You’d rather not have had to be in a stuffy carriage for hours on end, but you had been assigned to accompany the Lady Dimitrescu on her latest business trip for the Sanguis Viriginis Wine Company.

She sits across from you now, waving her fan in front of her beautiful face. Her carmine lips are pursed in annoyance, the current generated from her fan making a few loose curls from under her pinned hat dance. Her gaze turns to you and she gives you an uncertain smile.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer now,” she says, taking out her cigarette holder. You are already at the ready with your lighter that you had taken from your vest pocket. She inclines her dark head close to yours and you breathe in her perfume as you light her cigarette for her. From up close you can see her laugh lines and her long lashes that kiss the tip of her cheekbones. She takes a few experimental puffs before settling back in the carriage seat. Taking a long drag, she blows the smoke out the window, the smoke blending in with the clouds that surround the Romanian mountains.

You are suddenly feeling rather hot in this cramped carriage. You begin to unhook your arm bracers so you can push your shirtsleeves up to your elbows. When you look up, you see that Lady Dimitrescu’s golden eyes are staring intently at your arms as you roll up your sleeves, muscles standing out tautly under a soft down of dark hair. You meet her eyes and she quickly looks away, but not before you catch a glimpse of the high color rising in her cheeks.

“If I may, my Lady,” you posit, resting your hand on her leg. “My offer still stands.”

“No. It can wait,” she says, stiffly, but you can tell it takes her great effort. The two of you had had a few torrid nights this summer and you could tell she was stressed from the preparations for the trip. She had been spending night after night poring over ledgers and spreadsheets and by the time she was done, all she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep.

It had been a long time since you had enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s company, to say the least.

The driver breaks your train of thought as you hear her yell, “Going to be a bit bumpy on this next trek, my Lady. I’d suggest finding something to hold on to.”

Alcina sniffs in annoyance and puts out her cigarette in the ashtray next to her.

The ride does indeed start to get more bumpy. Alcina puts a hand to her hat to avoid crushing it on the roof of the carriage and you press yourself into a corner to avoid being jostled around too much.

BANG!

The carriage hits a particularly rough spot and you are sent flying. You land on something soft and when you look up you realize that you are in Alcina’s lap and your hand is cupping her breast. You make eye contact with her and you can see the want in her aureate eyes, feeling her nipple stiffen through her clothes under your touch.

You chuckle at her. “When are you going to let go of your foolish pride, my Lady?” you ask, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. You brace yourself against her by wrapping your arms around her neck. Your legs straddle her hips, and each jolt of the carriage sends a current of electricity through the both of you.

“It’ll just be for a couple more miles, pet.” Her voice is hoarse, belying the desperation in her eyes.

You grin wolfishly. “Well, then...Let’s see how I can test your limits until then. Like this.” You begin kissing the side of her neck and she leans back against the wall of the carriage, sighing. “Or this.” You draw your hand further down the front of her dress and move your thumb in a circular motion around her areola. When she inhales sharply, arching into your touch, you know you are close to breaking her. “Or-”

You don’t finish the rest of the sentence as she grabs you by your necktie and begins kissing you fiercely. Her lips move hungrily against yours as she reaches for your belt buckle.

BANG!

Another sharp bump in the road makes you bang your head painfully into hers. Alcina growls with frustration and raps her large hand on the side of the carriage to alert the driver.

The driver hops down from her seat and opens the carriage door. Her face grows bright red at seeing the two of you entangled together. Alcina ignores it, saying primly, “I do believe the horses need watering. You’ve been driving them rather hard and they need their rest.”

The driver nods, crisply. “Very good, my Lady. And uh…” She glances at the two of you again and looks away quickly. “I thought I saw an inn up a ways and I think I’ll take my lunch there.”

The carriage stops at a nearby creek and with a wave the driver heads over to the inn to take her lunch. You and Alcina are finally alone together.

Without delay, Alcina opens her reticule and takes out the strap. You can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

Alcina narrows her eyes at you. “Has something struck you as humorous, dear?”

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” you say, wiping tears from your eyes. “But you just had that in your purse the whole time?’

Alcina glares defiantly back at you, but her cheeks are burning with color. “I wasn’t sure when we’d need it.”

She takes the strap and harness and begins to move her skirt up her leg but you put out a hand to stop her. “If you don’t mind, my Lady, I would like to wear it this time.”

Alcina grins. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, pet,” she purrs. She bites down on your lower lip as she helps you secure the strap and harness around your hips. Her tongue enters your mouth as you unhook the pearl buttons running down her back. Her dress pools around her ankles and she kicks it aside. She is now only in her corset and garters, her generous bosom straining against her basque.

You lower yourself and when you peel away her panties you see her thighs are already slick with her arousal. You rasp your tongue along her inner thigh and you feel her body positively thrumming with desire.

“Please, darling,” she begs. “Please don’t tarry any longer. Take me here. Take me now. I want you inside of me.”

“Patience,” you purr against her thigh. “Good things always come to those who wait.”

Your tongue teases at her entrance, stroking her sensitive walls. She takes you by the shoulder and low, furtive moans escape her ruby lips. You dart your tongue quickly in and out, almost but not quite reaching her clit.

You know you’re being unfair, but something about Alcina begging for you is just so irresistible.

You chance a look up at her and her golden eyes are pleading. You settle yourself back on top of her and push in slowly filling her walls with your mass. You begin to ride her hard, bracing your hands on her quivering thighs.

You lean in and whisper in her ear as you’re riding her. “Do you like that, my Lady? None of the other maidens have ridden you like this, have they?”

“No,” she gasps out as you unlace her stays. “Pray, continue.” Her corset falls away and you toss it to the side of the carriage. Her breasts are now bared and you latch yourself onto one, suckling and nipping at the sensitive bud with your teeth. You find your own thighs are now wet with your arousal as the great Lady Dimitrescu becomes undone before your eyes, howling and pleading with you for more, more, more.

You see no reason to deny her. You slide one, two, three fingers in, before just deciding to put your whole hand inside her core. She cries out and yips as your fingers quest along her walls, stroking her sensitive nub at the center. Her hand flies out and hits the window, making the glass crack and splinter.

She buries her fingers in your shoulders, looping under your suspenders. “Please, darling. I’m so close! Don’t stop, I beg of you!”

You put all of your body weight into each thrust now, filling her so completely with your cock and with your fist. Your hips are screaming from the strain. But you can’t stop until she orgasms. You want her to praise you. You want her to agree that no one has treated her better than you have.

When she finally climaxes, she screams your name so loud that you're pretty sure the poor carriage driver can hear it all the way from the inn where she is taking her lunch.

Alcina leans back against the carriage walls pulling you against her as she tries to regain her composure. The cracked window is soon fogged up from the both of you gasping for air.

When she finally gets her breath back, Alcina runs a hand through your hair, weaving each strand between her fingers. “Very well done, my pet,” she cooes. You glance up at her and her cheeks are crimson. She looks away self-consciously. “You were right, my dear. No one has touched me the way you did tonight.” She gives you a sloppy kiss. “I shall have to look forward to the next time.”

You smile at her, taking her hand in yours and kissing the back of her knuckles. “Of course my Lady.”

You help her dress and once the carriage driver comes back you lay your head on her lap and quickly fall asleep as the carriage makes its way to the next town.

[malleux]

uh hey! idk if you take request on kazuha but yea. im a little bit embarrassed rn. so can i request in teacher? where kazuha is the teacher and the reader is a single parent? yea, just like that. idk how to explain well, sorry!!

hope.

-> teacher!kazuha x fem!parent!reader

-> cw: kazuha has a depressing life

a/n: i know no pronouns were specified in this request and normally when that happens i’d make it g/n, but for this story i wanted a fem!reader. also, if anyone wants a part 2 to this i would be happy to oblige, just cause i have so many ideas for it lol!

a part of my au event

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Purple.

Colors splattered across the paper, coating it in an array of paint that would definitely soak through and stain Kazuha’s table later on. The child that sat in the chair across from him smiled proudly at his creation before running off to his play area when Kazuha gave him the “okay��.

Kazuha watched the class of five-year-olds closely as they completed their tasks for that hour, making sure they were all able to do their independent work with ease. The lesson was on rainbows today, how they towered and contrasted against the blue sky and yet blended into a beautiful picture all the same.

The six colors were symbolic of hope- something the man had been needing lately as his life began to blur into one long, consistent, bleary day.

He sighed and pressed a button on his desk, a bell resounding through its little speakers and telling the kindergarteners to clean up their work space. They got to work immediately, packing up their supplies for the day into their bookbags and getting ready for dismissal.

Saying goodbye to the kids was also a depressing part of the day.

They would wave to their teachers from their car seats and tell them that they were going to McDonalds and then to the park with their parents- and compared to Kazuha, alone in his little classroom, it was a bit sad.

It was stupid- being jealous over a kindergartener’s life, of all things. But Kazuha’s life had lacked any color for the longest time. Any bit of fun sprinkled into his lackluster routine would be welcomed. He dreaded the time all of his children went home, since they were the lights of his life right now. But, it was 30 minutes after the bell had rang and he wasnt alone yet.

“Is your mama late, Hana?”

A little girl with bright eyes looked up at you from her spot on your rug. “Yes ma’am! And she’s supposed to take us for waffles today, too!”

“Waffles?” He questioned her, twirling a finger around her soft hair. Hana seemed to lean into his touch.

“I take her out for waffles every Friday after school.” A gentle voice answered.

Hana stood up and rushed over towards the person, who Kazuha now recognized as an incredibly gorgeous woman. He followed the girl over to her mother and held out his hand, a small smile upon his face.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Hana’s teacher, Kazuha Kaedehara.”

“Yes, nice to meet you!” You took his hand and Kazuha swore his heart stopped. “Hana’s told me a lot about you. She absolutely adores you.” You giggled.

Kazuha liked your laugh.

“Momma, can Mr. Kazuha come with us to get waffles?” Hana tugged at your shirt and you looked from your daughter back to him, smiling apologetically at her antics.

“Baby, I think Mr. Kazuha may be busy-“

“I’m free.”

Both of you were stunned at Kazuha’s brazen interruption- his cheeks growing red and yours widening back into that gentle smile that he already couldn’t get enough of.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured just because Hana asked.”

“I’m positive.” He smiled back, “I’m rather hungry, and waffles sound absolutely amazing. That is, if you’ll have me.”

“O-of course! We’ll see you there!”

Kazuha watched as you hoisted Hana up on your hip with her comically-large backpack and chuckled. He finished packing his laptop and notebooks before heading out to his car to meet you at the restaurant. He looked out of the window.

A rainbow.

A symbol of hope. Hope for something new, preferably with you.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

come fly with me

[hermes x reader]

author’s note: every time i see his name i pronounce it like the brand out of  habit even if there’s no accent grave lol

word count: 2,572

You sense the bright light of morning through your closed lids and it prompts you to wake. But even as your eyes slide open, you still feel as though you’re dreaming.

A man is kneeling down next to you. You don’t know who he is but perceive he means no harm, for his gaze as he observes you is concerned, no doubt wondering what you’re doing out here. You don’t remember falling asleep outside, but the weather has been so nice as of late, you wouldn’t put it past yourself to have drifted off after laying beneath the stars, simply appreciating their magnificence.

As your vision comes more into focus, and the blurred edges merge into finer lines, you note that the sun shines behind this stranger’s head, and it appears remarkably like a halo. Your focus slides lower, drifts over brown hair pulled back into a neat braid to avoid obscuring his face, the highlight of which are his eyes—brilliantly blue, like crystals, and putting the backdrop behind him to shame. He’s beautiful.

Suddenly you’re nervous to be the center of his attention, so rapt it’s like he can see right through you. You must look a disheveled mess in contrast, your own hair tousled, your eyes bleary with the last bits of sleep. But as if he can hear your thoughts, he smiles gently, a gesture to put you at ease.

“Hello,” he greets you. His voice is hushed, taking care not to disturb the peace of these early hours, and it’s warm, washing over your skin and fighting away the chill of the cool evening.

You open your mouth, poised to speak, but at first nothing comes out, though from nervousness or from the fact your vocal chords are still waking up after hours of not being used, you don’t know.

“I… I must have fallen asleep out here,” you state rather dumbly, because what else could it have been? It’s not as if anyone had carried you out here in the middle of the night. Your cheeks redden from embarrassment but the man’s smile widens, amused and—if you aren’t imagining things, owed to the idea that maybe you really are dreaming—charmed. Though for what reason, you haven’t the slightest clue.  You struggle to call yourself a picture of grace at any other point in a day, least of all fresh from sleep.

“It seems you have,” he responds. “I imagine it was comfortable?”

Not wanting to continue this conversation while still laying down, since it’s a little awkward, you sit up, and he backs away slightly to give you space. The notion of sleeping on the ground certainly doesn’t sound comfortable, and so you assume he asks this in light jest, but oddly enough, you don’t feel any stiffness or aches. Your body is relaxed, pliant. You feel well-rested.

“It was, yes…” you trail off, absentmindedly pondering on this anomaly.

The man nods, satisfied with your answer, and stands. You have to crane your neck to look at him, and as he turns his head to look out at the rolling hills, lush green and divided in the middle by a dirt path, you see a string around his neck which is attached to a golden helmet. The brim swoops and lifts in the back, colored silver to resemble a pair of wings.

Then he turns to you again, now offering you his hand. “Well the day is too nice to waste staying here. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

You’ve been aware this entire time that you don’t know who he is, and logic would dictate you turn down his invitation. No matter how nice he may be, it would be unreasonable as well as  unsafe. But even for all that, you find yourself not tied down by any semblance of reason, and perhaps it’s against your better judgment that you accept.

You take his hand and he pulls you up easily. Maybe it’s his smile that does well to quell any apprehension, for you think you would follow him anywhere. Maybe you were incorrect and to go with him now was the better judgment on your part, because you don’t feel that this is wrong or dangerous. And he’s right: the day is splendid and it would make no sense to stay on the ground alone. It’s better enjoyed with companions.

The two of you follow the trail for a while, pausing whenever small creatures cross from one side to the other: mostly bunnies and deer, but at one point when passing by a lake there’s a duck and her ducklings plodding single-file behind her. As the world around you wakes and you walk in comfortable silence, your anxiety melts away and you instigate a conversation.

“Were you just passing by and happened to see me?” you inquire.

The man glances down at you briefly before looking ahead once more. “I was.” He nods. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He’s sincere as he says it, and it makes you grin. “Well I’m glad it was you who found me.”

The smile on his lips mirrors yours. “I am too.”

Flowers line the path, leaning inward as if to welcome any who walk past. They grab your attention, and you skip ahead to pick some of them. They only require a gentle tug for the stems to snap and you gather them until you’re holding a small bunch of the white flower in one hand. You bring them closer to your face so you can smell them: the scent is subtle and fresh, like the air after it rains. The man finally catches up to you and you twist around. There’s that expression in his eyes again, one of amusement, and again you blush, attempting to hide it by the flowers as you duck your head, but you don’t think you’re successful.

He peers over your shoulder. “Let’s go this way now. There’s bound to be more flowers in that direction.”

You turn and follow his line of sight. The trail has led to a forest, and veering off here would lead you into the thick of it. The man takes the last few steps to close the distance and stand next to you, and you look up at him. “Okay.”

Sunlight pierces the gaps in the foliage, the rays which light the ground soothing to behold and to walk through. It’s like a painting, calm and peaceful, displayed on the finest marble and you’re honored to be in the midst of it, maybe not as the subject, for you think the birds who cast shadows as they soar above you are more worthy of the privilege, but you’re content to be there at all, even just off to the side.

The woods lead to a meadow and the man was correct: there are more flowers here. Their colors vary, from white to lavender to yellow, and the sun envelopes them all in its heat, unhindered in this clearing. The tall grass shifts with your every footstep and brushes your calves, light as a feather, and you giggle. It tickles.

Your eyes rove over the expanse before you. There are more trees, another portion of forest,  on the other side, but this place is so peaceful, and the sun is in the perfect position, centered in the sky, that you would hate to leave so soon.

“I’d like to lay among these flowers…” you murmur. It’s an aside you mean to mutter only to yourself, but given your proximity to the stranger—no, not a stranger anymore, but more of a friend—he hears you fine despite the low volume with which you said it.

“Why don’t we?”

At this, you blink and glance up at him. He’s already watching you with a twinkle in his gaze and he’s smiling. You can’t help smiling too and you feel so warm to be in his presence.

So in the middle of the clearing you find a suitable spot and settle down, lying on your back with the bunch of white flowers still clutched in one hand. You have to squint and use your free hand to shield your eyes from the glare of the sun, but then you close them and the furrow of your brow relaxes, and you can fully enjoy the nature which surrounds you.

Dragonflies buzz and you can hear them flittering along, the beating of their wings louder as they approach, then becoming quieter as they pass. The grass shifts as your friend comes to join you now. He sits, and you hear a brief shuffling before he follows suit and lays down. Together you bask in the sunlight, but for how long, you aren’t sure. Not that you’re interested in tracking the time.

“Your suggestion to tarry a while was a good one,” he compliments, breaking the silence. “It feels pleasant to rest here.”

His compliment makes you grin and your eyes open. You turn your head to look at him. He’d removed his helmet from where it was hanging around his neck and placed it next to him to allow him to lie back comfortably. “The sun makes you feel so refreshed, doesn’t it?”

He hums. “I think it has more to do with the company.” He opens his eyes and also turns to look at you, and the blueness of them is incredibly soft. Your smile grows.

And though you’re confident you could pass the rest of the day in that meadow, the two of you move on. It’s done with a bit of reluctance on your part, but it fades quickly because you agree with him: it’s the company which makes you feel refreshed. The colors of the sky are shifting as mid-afternoon turns into early evening and it occurs to you that you have been walking since the morning yet you aren’t tired, nor has it felt like many hours have transpired. You know it has to do with him. You think you could do this forever, walking with him.

When the sky is a blend of indigo and orange, you ask if anyone is expecting him. We’ve been together all day, you explain. No one might wonder where you are?

He chuckles. “That’s kind of you to be concerned.”

Your cheeks feel warm. He’s awfully good at getting that reaction out of you.

“No one’s expecting me,” he continues. “But even if someone were, they’d understand my lateness, given I’m with someone so sweet. I’m not keen to part ways too soon.”

Your chest feels tight, like your heart is wrenching and you’re scared it might break. “Me neither,” you state shyly.

Then gradually the indigos and oranges transition to black as the sun fully disappears below  the horizon and you are sad to see it leave. You’ve also long since left the meadow and the forest surrounding it behind. The land you walk through is wide, flat, empty. There aren’t any plants or animals and it feels foreign, adjusted as you had been to the lush scenery of this afternoon. The only feature worth noting are the mountains that come into view now, which, while you’d already assumed them to be tall, are taller than you first thought as you get closer, so high they seem to touch the clouds, perhaps even extending past them.

“This way.” The man’s voice pulls your attention away from staring up at the clouds. There’s a path that leads farther into the mountain. “Watch your step. It’s rather dark.”

What light of the moon reaches through small gaps in the mountain reflects off the helmet strung around his neck. He takes care to move slowly to ensure you don’t lose him but the glint of his helmet serves as a beacon. The more you venture in, you wonder where you’re going. Should you ask him? The idea of doing so hadn’t crossed your mind all day because you’d been happy just to be with him, no apprehension about the destination, or whether or not  there was one. But now…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, about to be voiced, but they die out once you turn a final corner and spot a river. The water is dark, almost black, and a haze settles above it that obscures what might possibly be on the opposite shore. Once you do speak, it’s still a question, but it’s no longer about where the two of you are headed. He doesn’t need to tell you that.

“Wanted to let me down gently, didn’t you?” The manner in which you ask this is quiet, lightly teasing but also laced with a sadness you do little to hide.

Hermes—for now you know confidently who he is—leads you right to the edge of the water and then stops, twisting around. “I chose to take the longer route with you.”

You meet his gaze. His eyes are sorrowful, yet for their melancholy they are still just as beautiful, and they’re tender as he looks at you. “Why?”

He takes a deep breath, momentarily glancing at the water then returning his focus to you. “You hadn’t realized what happened, and I didn’t want to tell you. I decided we would venture through the nature you love so much, taking breaks where you desired, to listen to the bugs and to feel the sun.”

Thinking back to this morning, you recall that when you’d woken up, you hadn’t checked behind you. If you had, you would’ve noticed your body there. You’d been too enamored by Hermes to do that. Though you suppose there are worse ways of being led to the Underworld, and you’d always be grateful to Hermes for choosing to take the long way.

“Through it I’ve grown very fond of you,” he confesses. He offers a small smile, and you surmise it’s a struggle, at odds with a frown because of where he has brought you, and what it implies. “A day with you was a lifetime, and it still didn’t feel long enough.”

You muster a smile of your own. “One day or an eternity, I don’t suppose any length of time ever would.”

A boat comes into view, appearing to materialize through the fog, and once it stops at the small dock, the front bumping gently and the water lapping against the support beams, Hermes gives the ferryman two coins. Treat her well, he instructs. And then he turns to you a final time, and when your heart squeezes, you really think it has broken.

Glancing down, your eyes settle on the flowers you’re gripping. You’d kept them with you the entire journey. But now you hold them out to Hermes, and the heaviness in your chest seems to lighten slightly as he takes them and the expression on his face becomes a little less crestfallen. You would hate to leave him in such a forlorn state.

“Thank you, Hermes.” You hope he can detect the sincerity, and when he smiles faintly, you know that he has.

He helps you onto the boat, clasping your much smaller hand in his to provide support, and he stands on the shore as the ferryman pushes away, watching you until the fog engulfs the boat once more. And though he’s alone, the flowers in his hand make him feel far from lonely.

[jessikahathaway]

Vegas, Baby - Part II

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Accidental Marriage!AU

Warnings: Explicit Language

Words: 3.6 k

Here's the next part of Vegas, Baby guys! Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there! Love you!

You all rolled up into the club at around 9:00, ready to start drinking and getting a good buzz on before going to dance.

The second you hit the club, you felt a thrill rushing through your veins.

“Alright Y/N, start scoping them out,” Jessi said with a smile.

“They aren’t pieces of meat Jessi!” Lily reminded.

“Sorry sorry,” she apologized.

Heading towards the bar you found yourself with Jessi and Lily at your sides, leading the group. You realized you were in charge tonight. This was about you. Lifting your head a little higher you smiled as you all sat down at the bar. The tender was cute, but working and you didn’t want to bother him with your drunken antics.

“Alright Y/N, you’ve already got four men interested,” Jessi whispered, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“What?” you asked, moving to turn around when Lily pinched your hip. “Ow!”

“Don’t look, keep your air of mystery going. And you’ve just arrived, plenty of time to dance and see who you feel good with,” Lily reminded.

“Right, okay,” you said, ordering a drink from the bar as well.

You spent about half an hour trying to calm your racing heart, by dousing it in alcohol. But Jessi put an end to that rather quickly.

“Don’t drink too much or you’re definitely not going out of our sight tonight,” she warned.

“Sorry,” you said, ordering a glass of water to chill the buzz that was starting to fog up your head.

“I think it’s time for a dance,” Lily said after you had finished your water.

“Yeah, I feel like moving,” you said, hopping down from the stool carefully.

That’s when you saw him.

He was blending in with the crowd easily, but when you looked at his face, you knew he was different than everyone in this building. For one, he was gorgeous. A sculpted jawline that could cut marble. Dark eyes that made heat swirl in your stomach and long curly hair that looked perfect to tug on.

He was dressed in probably the most expensive clothes you’ve ever seen. Even though it was a simple white dress shirt tucked into some nice black dress pants, you saw the jewelry he wore blinking in the light. No doubt it was costly. One of his rings must’ve cost more than the dress you were wearing, easily.

But that didn’t stop the swirl of desire rushing through your veins.

“I think she found someone,” Jessi said, smile evident in her voice.

“Who-oh... Wow...” Lily trailed off, looking at him as well.

“What do you think Y/N? Wanna approach him?” Jessi asked.

“I-I don’t know,” you breathed.

As if sensing someone was looking at him, he turned away from the guy he was talking to and looked dead at you. It made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. But, you managed a small smile at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your awkward attempt at flirting from across the room seemed to work, cause a smile was returned.

“Oh my God!” Jessi yelped.

“He’s interested,” Lily confirmed.

“Come on Y/N, let’s go dance. He’s interested, he’ll come talk to you. But don’t make a move just yet,” Jessi said softly, pulling you toward the dance floor.

Getting in between the sweaty bodies made you a little uncomfortable, but the liquid courage in your veins made everything much easier. Jessi moved your body with hers, having you mimic her motions.

Soon there were plenty of men approaching, trying to get the chance to dance with you. But Jessi and Lily were quick to distract them with themselves. After what felt like an eternity, the man you saw earlier was making his way to the dance floor. Your heart sped in your chest, making you feel weak. But soon, the man was a few feet from you.

“Excuse me,” he said, his deep baritone vocals seeping into your bones.

“Yes?” you asked, looking at him with a shy expression.

“Care to dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to you.

Taking it shortly thereafter you were pulled into his frame. The scent of sandalwood and musk over took you, making your head spin pleasantly. The pair of you moved together tentatively, not quite familiar but not uncomfortably. A different song came on and the man before you took it upon himself to turn your body so your back was facing his front. Wrapping his arms around your waist he rested his head along the crook of your neck.

“I dare say, you are the most beautiful girl out here tonight,” he say, breathing onto your exposed skin.

“Thank you, you look amazing too,” you mentioned, feeling his cool rings against your bare skin from the cutouts in your dress.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N,” you answered.

“Y/N,” he repeated, letting the feeling of your name sit on his tongue.

“What’s your name?” you asked back.

“Vante,” he said quietly. You nodded, already knowing this wasn’t his real name. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him yours, but, it was too late to take it back now.

“So, what brought you here?” he asked, swinging his body to the beat and moving your body with his.

“My friends,” you said, trying to keep your mind level.

“Yeah? They brought you out? You’re not from around here are you,” he asked.

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“This is my club, and I’ve never seen you here before. I’d certainly remember.”

You could feel his smile against your skin, and it made your heart jump into your throat. But, unlike with most men, you didn’t feel like he was playing with you, or trying to just get the small talk out of the way to get to the main event.

He felt... Genuine.

“I lost my job back home, and decided that a week in Vegas is what I needed before I move back in with my parents,” you admitted.

“I’m sorry to hear that you lost your job,” he said.

“Eh, it was a pretty basic office job, so I’m not too heartbroken over it,” you told him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad it brought you here,” he said, the smile never leaving his face.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

“How long are you in Vegas for?” he asked.

“A week, this is my first night,” you answered.

“I see, that isn’t very long,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.

“No, I wish I could stay longer,” you said.

“I’m sure your friends do too,” Vante stated.

The song ended and another one picked right up where it left off, but Vante moved away from your body and turned you around.

“I’ll tell the bartender that your tab is on the house. You and your friends, it was nice talking to you, I hope I see you again,” Vante said before moving to walk away.

“Wait!” you said.

Jessi would’ve slapped you for this.

“Did you want to... Get out of here, with me?” you asked, wincing as the words came out of your mouth.

“Well, as tempting as an offer that is. And believe me, it is extremely tempting, I’m afraid I have to decline. I have work to do tonight, but I wanted to stop by the club to see how everyone was doing before I headed out. But, enjoy the rest of your night Y/N,” he said. With that he stalked off towards the bar, leaving you in the middle of the floor alone.

“What the fuck,” Jessi said, coming up behind you.

“Did he just leave you here?” Lily asked, already looking like she was ready to fight.

“Don’t Lily,” you said, already feeling your blood beginning to cool.

“What do you mean? That dick just played you!”

As much as you wanted to agree with her and be mad, you couldn’t. Cause you didn’t see it that way. When Vante spoke, he seemed as though he was being authentic with you. You believed the only thing he lied about, was his name.

“Come on guys, I don’t want to dwell on it. Let’s get some more drinks,” you suggested heading towards the bar.

You sat down and the bartender smiled at you brightly.

“Mr. Vante says that you ladies have a free tab tonight! Enjoy! Everything is on the house,” he smiled.

“What?” Jessi said, turning to look at you.

“Oh yeah... He said that he owns this club,” you winced.

“And he gave you a free tab for the night?” Lily asked.

“Yeah...?” you said, confused.

“Oh babe, this isn’t over then,” Jessi confirmed.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“If he gave you a free tab, it means he wants you to come back! We’ll have to come back again!” Jessi said, drinking her screwdriver happily.

“I guess,” you said, already looking forward to the idea of seeing him again.

--

It was your last night in Vegas when you went back to Vante’s club. Dressed in Jessi’s red silk dress that cut off right in the middle of your thighs. She said she wanted to pay homage to your pop of color the first night you and Vante met. It would help you stand out more.

You were talking to the bartender, who’s name you found out to be Tyler. He was super nice and really chill, already getting you the drink you favored most the previous night.

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking a sip already.

“So, let’s see if he’s here tonight,” Jessi said, looking over the crowd with her razor sharp gaze.

The three of you started drinking and before you knew it you were tipsy.

Not to the point where you didn’t know what you were doing, but it was enough to get you feeling light.

Then, like a ghost, Vante appeared from the back. He looked just as good as he did the first day. Sharp, crisp and clean clothes adorned him. He appeared like a magazine model has come to life off the page.

His eyes met yours and a warm rush of heat flooded your system. He smiled and kept his eyes trained on you, coming forward through the swarm of people that separated you. Jessi and Lily instinctively left to go dance at that moment.

“Have fun,” Jessi whispered.

“Be safe,” Lily said, before following.

Vante approached you and placed a hand on the stool facing you.

“I thought I scared you off,” he said, looking at the liquor behind the bar.

“I don’t scare easy,” you said smiling.

“I’m glad, I was worried I wasn’t going to see you again before you left,” he said, pointing at the vodka bottle and getting it handed to him shortly thereafter. Shot glasses were placed on the counter next to the two of you and then Tyler was gone again.

“Unfortunately it’s my last night here, I have a flight tomorrow at 4:00,” you said to him.

“That is unfortunate,” Vante agreed.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun,” you offered.

“You’re right about that,” he said, pouring two shots.

“No work to do tonight?” you asked, hinting to when he turned you down.

“Fortunately for me I don’t,” he smiled, pushing a shot glass towards you.

He took his shot first. Shortly after you took yours. The burn traced your throat, filling your body with warmth. Vante poured another for himself, and took it, licking his lips at the end. Clearing his throat he looked to you.

“So, last night in Vegas, what are your plans?” he asked.

“I don’t really have any,” you said lamely, hoping he didn’t leave.

“Ah, so you’re free?” he said with another shot being pushed your way.

You took it and tossed it down, coughing lightly after.

“I am,” you said.

“That is nice to hear,” he said, taking his third shot in ten minutes.

Placing your hand on his wrist, you stopped him from pouring another one.

“Something wrong?” he asked, looking down at the alcohol then back to you.

“I-I uh...”

In all honesty you didn’t want him to get too drunk, it was nice just talking to him like this.

“Rough day for me, I’m afraid. Hence the eagerness to hit the booze,” he smiled sadly, as if it really pained him to admit it.

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it?” you asked, looking at him in concern.

“No, no that’s okay. Thank you for the offer though, that’s incredibly sweet,” he nodded.

“Well, if you ever are feeling in a sharing mood, maybe I can give you my number?” you asked. It was a long shot, because you were leaving tomorrow, but the idea of never speaking to him again made your heart sink into your stomach.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he smiled.

He handed you his phone and you plugged the number in, putting your name in at the top. Then, he held his hand out for yours, which you gave him.

“Are you going to put your real name in there?” you asked, suddenly unable to filter your words.

Vante just smirked.

“Very perceptive, knowing I didn’t give you my real name,” he said as he plugged in ‘Vante’ as the contact name.

“So that’s a no,” you said, taking your phone back and putting it in your purse.

“Don’t sound so disappointed. There’s a lot of power in names, you know,” he said.

“I guess,” you pouted.

“Don’t look so down,” he smiled, coming over to wrap his arms around your shoulder.

“I think I need another drink,” you confessed, waving Tyler down.

“The usual?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Mr. Vante? What would you like?” he asked.

“A manhattan, strong, with bourbon instead of whisky,” he ordered.

“Very good, I’ll be right back,” he said.

The two of you kept drinking and talking, exchanging pleasantries. But Vante seemed to dig into you, while you barely scraped the surface of him. And the problem was, the more you drank, the more your mind was swirling with the thought of him. His face and eyes boring into your flesh.

The last thing you remember before everything goes black are those beautifully sad eyes.

--

You woke up with a pounding headache. But the plushness of the pillows made up for the severe ache in your head. Cracking your eyes open you saw the light coming in through the window.

That’s when you realized.

You weren’t with Jessi and Lily...

Bolting up in bed you looked around. You were still in your clothes, thank God. But, where were you?

Looking in the bed next to you, you saw someone else sleeping. Still fully clothed as well. Your heart eased a little, until you figured out who it was.

It was Vante. Vante was sleeping next to you.

Had you slept with him last night?

You were still clothed, but that didn’t mean anything. Suddenly, a wave of nausea came over you, making you rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Rinsing your mouth out you heard shuffling in the other room.

Peaking your head out the door you saw Vante sitting up and examining the area just as you had done. Did he not remember anything either?

You walked into the room and saw Vante’s look of confusion turn to concern.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you answered.

“This isn’t the time to joke around Y/N, do you remember anything?” he asked.

“No, I don’t, the last thing I remember was sitting in the club with you,” you said.

He sighed and ruffled his hair. You couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at his attitude and morning voice. But, you weren’t here to be yelled at.

“Vante what’s going on?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I drank too much,” he groaned, laying down on the bed and looking up at the ceiling.

“We didn’t drink that much, did we?” you asked, not really talking to Vante.

“I’m not sure, but my tolerance is pretty high. I shouldn’t have blacked out,” he said, concern lacing his features.

“Jessi, Lily!” you shrieked, shuffling through your purse that was unceremoniously thrown on the floor until you found your phone.

43 missed calls

76 messages

“Oh I’m so fucked,” you groaned. Then you looked at the time. And you screamed.

Vante jumped in the corner at the sound and you bolted up right and looked at the clock in the room. It wasn’t wrong.

4:38 pm.

“Shit! Shit shit shit!’ you cried.

“What?!” Vante yelled back.

“I missed my flight! And I don’t have the money to get back now,” you whimpered, already feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“Hey don’t cry,” Vante said, coming over and trying to calm you down.

But in the process of bringing your hand to your eyes to wipe them, you saw a glint in the light. Looking closer you noticed a simple, silver band over your finger.

“What the-”

“Oh fuck,” Vante said, looking down at your purse.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Without a word, he reached down and pulled out the piece of paper that was shoved inside.

Unfolding it and smoothing the wrinkles out, Vante held the piece of paper over you.

Squinting in the light you looked at the top.

Marriage License

“Oh fuck,” you whsipered. “What are we gonna do?” you asked.

“Well-I... I’m not too sure,” he whispered, rubbing his chin.

“I gotta call my parents,” you said, reaching to call them when Vante took your phone out of your hand.

“No, don’t,” he said.

“What do you mean? They’re expecting me to be on a plane back home!” you said.

“Y/N, we’re in big trouble. I don’t think you realize that,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I haven’t been completely transparent with you,” he sighed, rubbing his face.

“What do you mean Vante?” you asked.

“Firstly, my name isn’t Vante. It’s Taehyung,” he started.

“Taehyung,” you said softly.

“And I’m not some regular club owner,” he said.

“Okay...?”

“I’m a... a part of the Korean Mafia,” he whispered.

Panic surged through your body.

“Don’t fuck with me right now Vante-Taehyung!”

“I’m not fucking with you Y/N, I’m being deathly serious,” he said, voice chilling your skin.

“Okay, alright. Say you are a member of the Korean Mafia, what does that mean? Are you going to kill me?” You asked, fear trickling down your spine at the thought.

“No! No no, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re legally my wife for christ sake,” he said.

“Then what’s the issue? We just get an annulment in a couple days and then we’re free. Issue solved. I can stay with Jessi and Lily until my parents can get me back home,” you said, already formulating a plan in your head.

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean that’s not gonna happen?” you asked, shocked.

“You can’t just get an annulment with me,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Excuse me?” you asked, stunned at his words.

“If you leave me, it’ll make me look weak. And, you’re at risk of being hurt by stray members of the mafia. There are rivals who will use you to try to get to me now. Even if we aren’t married. You’re safest at my side for now,” Taehyung said, looking out the window.

“So, you’re saying my life is at risk because of this?” you asked, looking down at the marriage license with a sour taste in your mouth.

“Yes, unfortunately that’s the truth. You’re a part of this now, whether we like it or not,” he announced.

“Taehyung, what am I going to do? I can’t go back home and bring this to my parents, Jessi and Lily will murder me if I tell them. What do I do?!” you shrieked.

He whirled around and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“What we’re not gonna do is panic. That’s the last thing we need, so what we’re going to do is play the role. We got married on purpose, a secret ceremony. My parents aren’t going to like this either. But, we’ve been dating for a while, just not publicly. We were so madly in love that we couldn’t help but get married,” he said.

“What are you talking about!? I can’t just tell my parents that I got married in Vegas. I can’t tell Lily and Jessi that I got married to you last night! What can I do Taehyung? This is all such a huge mess,” you whimpered, breaking down into tears.

“Please don’t cry,” he said, kneeling down beside you.

“I can’t help it, I’m so overwhelmed.”

He sighed and rubbed your back until you calmed down a little. And then he spoke again.

“You’re telling your parents that you got a job opportunity here in the states and are staying here with Jessi and Lily. They won’t think twice about it. As for Jessi and Lily, we’re going to have to tell them the truth,” he said.

“We? You plan on explaining to my two best friends that I got hitched in Vegas drunk off my ass to a mafia member?” you exclaimed.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes,” he said.

“Jesus Taehyung do you hear yourself? I barely know you!”

“I know, I know, but I need you to trust me. Just trust me. I can offer you a life of comfort, your family will be safe and want for nothing. You just can’t leave me,” he said.

“Taehyung,” you said, still very uncertain.

“I promise you, I’m not lying. I give you my word,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. You saw his ring glinting in the light and you sighed.

“Fine. But I gotta talk to Jessi and Lily. Soon,” you said firmly.

“I’ll take you,” he said, already grabbing his keys from his pockets.

“Okay,” you sighed, looking down at your purse.

God, what had you done?

[openheartthot]

Be Mine

Pairing: Open Heart [Ethan x f!MC (Camille Prescott)]

Word Count: 1,764

Rating: T

Warinings: Brief mentions of sex/sexual content 

Category: Fluff :)

Summary: Ethan and Camille make it official on Valentine’s Day.

***

I know it’s been like 2 months since I last posted a fic but I’ve been feeling a tiny bit more positive about OH3, plus it’s Valentine’s Day and these two idiots are in love. Don’t mind me making Ethan the insecure one as payback for what PB does to us haha

Ethan has been so buried in work that, lately, all the days seem to blend into one another. He can’t remember the last time he took a day off-- he’s been living, eating, and breathing Edenbrook.

And then there’s Camille.  

On the rare occasion that he manages to tear himself away from the hospital… he’s been living, breathing, and eating her, too. 

Ethan tugs slightly at his collar, a sudden flush working up his neck at the reminder of her soft blonde hair and even softer curves. 

The airy sound of her laugh has his head instinctually jerking up and in the direction of the residents’ lounge. 

As Ethan turns on his heel to follow the familiar noise, he can’t help but take note of the pink decorations adorning the walls and hanging from the ceilings. No matter how lost he’s been in his work lately, the universe just won’t let him forget about Valentine’s Day. 

It’s a stupid holiday, really. He’s always thought so. The boxed chocolates are a sad, chalky, affair, and the brightly colored gifts are gimmicky at best. The whole thing is little more than a capitalist cash-grab, and there is nothing Ethan hates more than capitalism. 

He forces himself not to roll his eyes as he spots two nurses exchanging cards in his periphery. 

It’s not that he dislikes love, but he does dislike the showmanship and theatricality that seem to surround February 14th. 

It’s just another day to him. In his thirty-seven years, he hasn’t once deigned to involve himself in such a tacky display of affection, and he sure isn’t going to start now. 

Except…

As he opens the door to the residents’ lounge, Camille is elbow deep in a pile of pink tissue paper. The excitement in her wide smile is nothing short of arresting, and of course, he should’ve known that she’d live for something like this. 

“Aww, look at it!” Camille squeals, her eyes shining as she lifts a stuffed bear from the mountain of gift wrapping. Her eyes dart over to Ethan, noticing him in the doorway, and her smile grows. She wiggles one of its fuzzy arms in an imitation of a wave. “It’s so cute, isn’t it?” 

“It’s something,” Ethan says tactfully, crossing the room to slip an arm around her waist. He catches a whiff of her light floral perfume, and can’t resist leaning down to peck her on the cheek. “Did Sienna buy that for you?” 

He may not be a fan of Valentine’s Day, but neither does he wish to offend Sienna Trinh, especially not after the basket of homemade scones she delivered to his office that morning. 

“Nope, one of Camille’s patients has a crush on her.” Lahela teases from the couch, where he is sorting through a thick stack of cards from his own extensive list of admirers. 

A strange itch works its way up the back of Ethan’s spine at Bryce’s words, and his arm tenses instinctively around Camille’s waist. 

Just because he loathes Valentine’s Day does not mean that he wants another man buying her tacky trinkets and writing sappy notes. 

Camille doesn’t seem to notice his displeasure, her lips pitching into a smile as she holds up the card to show him. 

“Medically speaking, you make my pulse race. Isn’t that adorable?” She laughs, and Ethan narrows his eyes at the obnoxiously pink card. The card that someone else gave to Camille. 

Her green eyes dart over the surface of the card once more, and Ethan feels something tight and uncomfortable building in his chest. 

“I think that’s the most brainless thing I’ve ever heard.” Ethan says sharply. “Which patient sent this?” He needs to know, so he can reassign them to another resident. 

“Relax, Ethan, it’s Jake from the pediatric ward.” Camille says with a breezy laugh. “He’s twelve.” 

“Oh,” Ethan shifts his weight, embarrassed. The sound of his pager is a welcome reprieve, and he glances at it gratefully. “Are you coming over tonight? I can meet you in the atrium.” 

It’s become almost routine for them, on the rare occasion they both have a night off. After the stress of the past few weeks, Ethan can’t wait to get her alone. Even if it’s only to watch a movie and drink that horrible cheap wine she likes, he just wants to spend time with her. Even the thought of a proper Valentine’s Day date, oddly, holds a new appeal when he considers Camille across the table, her smile lighting up the room...

“I think we’re gonna do a Galentine’s Day thing tonight.” Camille says with an apologetic shrug.

“Galentine’s Day?” Ethan asks, unable to keep the disgruntled edge out of his voice. It seems a new term is invented every time he turns his back. It’s deeply perturbing. 

“Yeah!” Sienna chimes in. “Me, Camille, Aurora, and Jackie, since we all managed to get the night off and none of us have significant others-- except Camille, I mean, you and her…” Sienna trails off, looking unsure. 

“It’s okay, he hates Valentine’s Day, anyway.” Camille interjects quickly. “And we’re not official or anything like that.” 

The look she shoots him is equal parts hopeful and nervous, as if she’s waiting for Ethan to correct her. He wants to, God, how he wants to correct her. To say that they are very much a official and serious relationship.

Instead, he freezes on the spot. 

“My pager…” he says pathetically, before turning and abruptly striding out of the room. 

***

All day, Ethan is a black storm cloud drifting sullenly through the rose-colored halls of Edenbrook. 

It’s clear to the rest of the staff that something is wrong, but no one is quite sure what. He hasn’t been in such a bad mood in months, not since he started seeing Camille. The rumor mill churns out a steady stream of speculation, doing nothing to improve Ethan’s mood. 

Finally, Naveen corners him in front of a bulletin board covered in construction paper hearts.

“Do you think I’m enough for her?” Ethan asks, staring pointedly at the board rather than making eye contact with his former mentor. 

“I’m not sure I follow.” Naveen says mildly. 

“She’s so...vibrant. Loving.” Ethan reaches out and touches one of the paper hearts. Camille organized the project, helping every pediatric patient decorate a heart and hanging them up with painstaking care. “I’m the opposite.” 

“Are you?” Naveen asks, “I’ve seen you with her, and you seem happy. You two are good together.” 

“She doesn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day with me,” Ethan admits, feeling foolish even as the words leave his mouth. “Because she thinks I hate it, which I do, of course…” 

“But you wouldn’t hate it with her?” Naveen prompts.

Ethan nods with a rueful smile. He shouldn’t be surprised, the man was considered the best diagnostician in the country for a reason. 

“It’s okay to seek happiness, Ethan. You can let go of the cynicism if you want to.” With that, Naveen turns to leave, but not before pressing a small cardboard box into Ethan’s hand with a wink. 

***

Camille lingers as Baz finishes gathering the last of his papers and shuffles out the door of the diagnostics office. 

Ethan doesn’t look up as he fumbles with the tiny cardboard box in his lap, but he can feel her warmth hovering in front of his desk. He thinks he would know the feel of her even if he was blind, deaf, and dumb. 

Finally, finally, Ethan manages to tear open the little cardboard flap and maneuver his fingers into the narrow opening.

“I’d like to speak with you--” he begins. 

“--Can we talk?” Camille says at the exact same time. 

“I’d like to go first.” Ethan says, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. For my behavior this morning. I have never liked Valentine’s Day, that’s true, but I do like you.” 

He pauses, and glances up at Camille’s face to gauge her reaction. Her expression is soft, and the fond look in her green eyes makes Ethan’s heart stutter in his chest. 

Emboldened, he reaches into the box and sets a piece of candy on the desk with a decisive nod. 

Camille leans over, a curtain of blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she tries to get a better look at the candy heart. 

“Sweet talk?” Her laugh is bright and clear. “Ethan you actually have to try and sweet talk me, this is a cop out!” 

Ethan can feel a hot blush pricking at his cheeks and he shakes his head. 

“No, dammit, that’s the wrong one.” He stands and pours a few more hearts into his hand, ignoring the dusty residue that is surely being shaken all over his desk. It takes a few moments of searching until he finally finds the correct saying on a yellow heart.

“Here,” he says, brusquely handing her the candy.

“Be mine.” She looks back up at him with glittering eyes, her teeth sinking into the soft pink of her lower lip. 

“I know we haven’t defined our relationship yet, but I want to be with you. Officially.” He clears his throat when Camille doesn’t immediately respond. “I understand if you need some time to--”

“Shut up,” Camille breathes, stepping forward until she can loop her arms around his neck. Her command is unnecessary, considering how Ethan has already been rendered speechless by her proximity.

He can feel her smile against his mouth as she meets his lips with her own. He groans as her fingers anchor in the hair at the base of his neck, tugging softly. 

The kiss deepens as Camille’s lips part beneath his, and Ethan’s hands work underneath her blouse, sliding against the bare skin of her back. 

“Is that a yes?” Ethan asks, his voice gravelly as she plants a trail of kisses along his jaw. 

He is thirty-seven years old, and for the first time he has reduced himself to a lovesick adolescent. It’s strange how willing he is to embarrass himself in front of her, how willing he is to do anything for her. 

“Of course it’s a yes! I’ve been waiting forever for you to commit to me.” Camille says with a radiant smile. Ethan cups her face gently.  

“So, what now? I have a standing reservation at a restaurant downtown. I’d like to take you out on a real date.” 

“That sounds nice,” Camille says, toying with one of the scattered candy hearts. “But first, I found this…” 

Cheekily, she holds out the blue candy. 

Kiss me. 

***

Tagging separately!

[pennyserenade]

TINY DANCER 

tags: javier peña x female oc, javier peña, rockstar!au, fluff  rating: t ( teen ) (for now) warnings: language, alcohol  word count: 1.6k+ summary: a band of young men from laredo, texas are on the verge of rock’n’roll stardom and anita rodríguez is the woman who follows them into it. a story of rock’n’roll and all the fluff that follows notes: this is very self indulgent and heavily inspired by the movie almost famous, as well as whatever fleetwood mac had going on, and the book daisy jones & the six. as you can tell, this is a genre of fiction i favor heavily, and i’m more than happy to make this everyone’s problem. thank you for baring with me

Summer time has never tasted so sweet on the tongues of these impassioned young men from Laredo, Texas, she bets. Perspiration covers their foreheads as they stand under the much too bright colored lights, and the crowd before them cheers them on with an eagerness that belongs only to those who really loved music. And they respond like men who really love music—all smiles and grins and heavy panting from giving their young bodies away to it. One might even say their souls.

Even from behind the curtain, she can feel the wave of electricity that rolls off of them. It is a beautiful thing to hear after suffering under the heavy blanket of Texas heat for her own performance.

They had liked her alright, responded about as warmly as they could for an opening act they hadn’t really known, but they turn these young men into Gods. She feels it tight in her stomach, that everlasting and endless excitement reserved for falling in love, not with people, but with moments. Even if it’s all for not, this little musical and spiritual journey she has partaken on, she will at least have been there for the moment these men had exhaled themselves into true and complete stardom.

Not bad for a band called El Fuego, she thinks.

“My God they’re something, aren’t they, Anita?”

Her sister holds aside the curtain to make room for herself. “The one in the really tight jeans was talking to me during your performance. He’s beautiful, I swear it. Just godly.”

Anita smiles. “You can’t fall in love with rockstars, baby sister, it’s unethical and impractical. Have your years with me taught you nothing?”

“Yeah, but those rockstars were a dime of dozen and tight jeans looks like sex out there,” she whines. Anita scans over the men, trying to decipher whom she might mean. That’s when she catches Tight Jeans’ eyes. She gives him a grin and without missing a beat, he gives her a charming wink. A wink reserved for a man on top of the world.

“What’s his name?” Anita asks.

“Javier Peña,” she responds. “He’s just gorgeous isn’t he? They all are.”

All Anita can do is grin as she continues to watch the rest of their performance.

****

This isn’t her first rodeo. This isn’t even her second or third or fourth. In fact, she’s lost track of the times she’s been led back to hotel rooms with a slew of people she doesn’t know, swept dangerously up in the shared euphoria that is the after show comedown.

In her hand she holds her second drink of the night. It’s a concoction she’d mixed for herself, made up of too much juice and too much alcohol, but she deserves it, she reckons. She’s opened for a damn good band and she’s a pretty damn good singer most of the time, and that Javier guy has been looking at her all night, despite the group of women that surround him. He has a good way of being present with them and present with her, too, genuine grins and attention for all to spare. Like the charming and humble lead guitarist he is, he strums idly at an acoustic guitar while he speaks with the women.

She’s been standing in the same place for too long, drinking the same second drink, listening to the beginning of songs he starts before he falters off into the next one. Even over the light hum of chatter and the radio nearby, she can focus on him. She watches his fingers as they strum—watches the way he doesn’t need to look down at them to keep them steady and trained. He’s a professional musician, through and through, even if he may just be some guy from Laredo to most individuals in the world. His manager had been so brave to wager that they were going to hit nationwide success by next week when one of their songs got radio air. She asked if she could keep opening for them, when they got big. All he did was grin. She likes to think it’s a yes.

“Hello.”

Coming back to earth, Anita finds Tight Pants in front of her. Not starling close, but enough to elicit something ghastly in her.

He smells of leather and good cigarettes, and her baby sister was right, he does look like sex. He’s all lean muscle, and though the perspiration has gone from his forehead, she bets if he were to lean in close and press his lips to hers, she might be tempted to taste the residue of it in what would become haste and passionate kissing.

“Hello,” she responds.

“I’m Javi, from Laredo.”

He extends his rather large hand for her to take, and she does. She wonders if this is the approach he uses with a lot of women. He’s good looking enough to be dangerous, but then again, she’s smart enough to understand where the line between fun and serious ends and begins with these men. She’s a rockstar too, privy to sex and drugs just like the lot of them, even if she is just a one man band.

She puts her hand in his and he gives her a firm shake. “Anita,” she says, then inspired by the liquid courage in her, she adds, “From somewhere warm, but hopefully headed some place better.”

He gives her a laugh and she finds that unfortunately, it’s the sort that makes one’s own lips tug upwards.

“You sounded good tonight. Did you write that song?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You sounded good too. I mean, you probably know that already, but.” She smiles. “Who writes for you?”

“Graham.”

“Graham’s the...”

“Lead singer. Dirty blonde over there talking to your—“ He looks at her. “Sister?”

She nods. “Yeah. She said she had talked to you earlier.”

“Yeah. We talked about your someplace warm. California, is it?”

“Cali indeed.”

“I’ve never been.”

“Well, Javi, I’m sure you’re about to.”

His dimple appears for her. He looks at her like she wishes he wouldn’t, because it makes her badly want to stick to his side for the rest of the night. And on his lips.

Even more unfortunate for her, he rummages in his pockets and pulls out a packet of those good cigarettes that make up his aroma. He opens it and takes one out for himself, sticking it between his lips, before offering her one.

“You smoke?”

She takes one. “Sometimes,” she nods. “Are we allowed to, in here?”

Javi shrugs his shoulders as he lights his. “Dunno,” he responds. She leans forward so he can light hers too. “Suppose we should go sit on the balcony on the off chance that this is the one hotel in America that doesn’t allow it?”

****

“You know Me and Bobby McGee, Laredo?” she nods down to his guitar.

The air outside is just cool enough to be comfortable in, so, despite that their cigarettes have long been stamped out and the party inside awaits them, they stay on the patio, rooted to the furniture. He hasn’t made any moves on her, a fact which takes her by surprise, and so they’ve lulled into a comfortable ebb and flow of natural conversation.

He tweaks his fingers on the neck of the guitar before he begins to strum the strings of it . His hair, overgrown in a way that suits a man of his occupation, cascades over his forehead as his brow becomes pinched from focus. In an instant, from his fingers comes the tune of her desire. He looks up at her, grinning, once he gets into the flow of it.

“¿Hablas español?” he asks, over his guitar.

“Un poquito, but not much,” she tells him. “Why?”

“No reason,” he dismisses, “Can you sing Me and Bobby McGee?”

“Sí.”

He laughs. “Well, put on a show then.”

***

She sobers up halfway between the sun tucking itself into the sky and the sun peeking back out from the horizon, but she can’t remember when. They’d played a lot of songs and her throat feels hoarse, but she can’t recall any one song that had felt particularly clear. It all sort of blended together up until this moment.

Javi lays, back rested against the chair, looking tired. His guitar now rests beside him, quiet, and he stares out at the city below them.

There’s a soft hum of normal people doing normal things below them; the horn of an eager taxi driver, the breaks of a bus, the chatter of patrons going in and out of the hotel.

They sit in the comfort of this city’s morning routine while she smokes his last good cigarette. “I was never much for staying up all night,” she tells him, passing it over to him.

He takes it between his lips and nods. “I was never much for sleeping all night.”

“And why’s that?”

He shrugs, exhaling the smoke. “Don’t know. Sometimes the past haunts me, sometimes it’s just too fuckin’ hot, sometimes it’s the company.”

“Mm,” she hums. “I must admit, I didn't peg you as the get-to-know-me-in-the-early-morning type. Thought you’d be content just charming me with your guitar for the rest of eternity.”

“Well,” he passes the cigarette back to her, pushing his digits against her own in the process. “I’m not, really, but we’ve talked about our favorite songs all night and you’re our opener for the rest of this tour, so why not?”

She takes a drag off the cigarette. “I’m not the opener for the rest of the tour.”

“No?” he asks.

“No,” she shakes her head. “This was a favor, I think. A very kind one.”

He looks out in front of him, falling into silence. Thinking.  Then he says, “I think I’m in the position to call in some favors right now if you’d liked to be. The opener, I mean.”

She lets the smoke out from the side of her mouth, which has risen up into a wide grin. “Javier from Laredo, I think I could kiss you right now.”

He takes the cigarette back from her fingers, offering her his own grin. “I think I’d like that,” Javi says, tone soft. Genuine.

She swings her legs over the side of her lawn chair, and holds herself up just far enough to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He turns though, not entirely on purpose, she thinks, and their noses brush against one another. She rises from her seat when he leans down and fills the space between them, resting against his own chair as his lips move against her own.

No tongue, though. He pulls back after a few seconds, brown eyes full of warmth. She’s surprised by the amount of control he has over himself. Surprised that he wants to use it, too.

“I better go check on my sister,” she breathes out, resting her hand over his chest.

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll see you in the next city, Anita.”

“Yeah,” she smiles.

“Look for me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she promises.

She likes this man and his tight jeans, she’s decided. Likes him a lot.

EVERYTHING : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-n-tonic , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo​ , @amneris21​ , @honestly-shite , @over300books , @elegantduckturtle, @pbeatriz , @pretty-brown-eyess , @brcwneyes  ,  @chronic-nosebleed

JAVI :  @wyn-n-tonic , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @hb8301 , @penajavier , @darnitdraco , @over300books , @dobbyjen , @paperbag33 , @rebel-fanfare , @p3dr0pasca1lov3r247

TINY DANCER : @itssmashedavo (just because i thought this might interest you)

[writeblrfantasy]

here it is!

my pride and joy, the piece that has completely hijacked my brain and my life for the past 24 hours. this is the prologue, some might say, to TDOSA, featuring the vibes of an endless, sunny summer, the sense of floating through time and space, and a lot of lesbian yearning and projection, i present: the summer of seret ashling.

cw implied sex, blood

word count around 6300

one time tags of interest @ashen-crest @ettawritesnstudies

tdosa taglist (lmk to be added/removed) magic-is-something-we-create @hysteriwah @imjustalonesomewriteblr @a-forgotten-dusk @bronwennjames @metanoiamorii

Lysandra Fleming’s summer begins like this: a lonely night in Briar Bar, sipping a warm mug of cherry syrup. Not because she is cold—the heat in Vashiri Valley does not begin with summer, nor does it end there. Cherry syrup is vile and bitter and sweet at the same time, made worse warm, but the smooth way it goes down reminds her of childhood, the strange days when she actually liked this stuff.

Not home. She has not had a home since she was a child, when the supposed charm of the palace still worked on her. What were once silky ribbons in her hair became the invisible chains and rules of her parents, tying her down.

Lysandra, you can’t do this, it will reflect badly on us, or Lysandra, you can’t speak to that person, can’t smile at them, can’t see them, don’t you know what they did ten years ago? Don’t you know who their parents are? Vashiri Valley is struggling for power enough without you mucking it up.

Lysandra stopped smiling altogether.

Now, she comes to Briar Bar to be left alone with her cherry syrup, to melt into the crowd, to be normal, for once. Instead, others smile at her the way her parents always encouraged she smile, fake, polite enough, with an ulterior gleam in their eye. So many eyes watch her in want, but she does not feel seen at all by any of them.

The room’s quiet conversation dims and dissolves into whispers, prompting Lysandra to glance over at the reason. The reason is facing away from Lysandra, wearing a tall black hat and a black suit that nearly blends into the darkness of the walls, if not for the white shirt the woman is wearing underneath.

Lysandra didn’t see her come in, and all eyes turn to the tall, dark stranger, wondering the same thing. Her companions across the room point her in Lysandra’s direction, who braces for another meaningless smile, another delighted to meet you, Highness.

The woman turns, and Lysandra sees brown skin, black hair falling in long, loose curls, a subtle, close mouthed smile that draws her attention instantly. Brown eyes meet Lysandra’s green.

“Seret Ashling, my princess.” Seret Ashling leans down, never breaking eye contact, and kisses the top of Lysandra’s hand, holding her fingers delicately, but not like she’s glass. She treats Lysandra like she knows, instantly, her boundaries, how far she can safely push, what Lysandra can take—which is a lot more than most people guess.

Already, Lysandra likes her.

Lysandra is not her princess. She knows the name of every person in this valley, and she knows she’s never even seen Seret before. Even the name is foreign to her. Seh-reht.

That makes it all the better.

She moves her stool a little farther from the empty one beside her, raising an eyebrow in an invitation Seret accepts, removing her hat and tucking it under her arm to smoothly mount the stool. Seret sits with a straight back but ankles curled around the legs of the stool, adding enough humanity to her presence to make Lysandra smile.

She does not prop her elbow on the table, she does not order anything, but she does stare at Lysandra like she’s the most interesting person in the room. Lysandra can tell, somehow, that this gaze is genuine, not hastily crafted and practiced to impress her.

She offers to buy Lysandra another mug of cherry syrup, and Lysandra lets her.

***

Everywhere Lysandra goes, Seret seems to find her. She’s the talk of the valley, enrapturing them with her tall, dark, handsome aura, her small smile, the way the sun shines off her hair.

Finally Seret takes the leap and asks her out to places in Vashiri City Lysandra has been a thousand times, but somehow Seret’s presence paints color to her world again instead of the dull greens and golds the valley has become.

Their connection is instant, from Briar Bar to the lane of potion shops to the muffled awe in Seret’s face when she sees the Academy. At some point, Seret takes Lysandra’s hand, and they stroll through the town like they are not a princess and the new obsession of Vashiri Valley.

Everyone has been asking Seret about herself, where she’s from, what family she has, but she slips out of answering like a snake from a trap. Her smile is quite persuasive. Lysandra doesn’t even try to pry the answer out of her, though she might be the one person to succeed. Seret still looks at her every time like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars.

Lysandra’s heart thrums with nerves every hour before their dates, afraid of messing things up and driving Seret away, but the moment Seret enters the room, her heart calms. Seret gives her a warm hug that envelopes her whole soul, tells her she missed her dearly, and Lysandra wonders why she was ever worried. Seret seems impossible to offend.

“I am going to buy you a gift,” Seret announces on one of their dates in town, in a tone which makes it clear this is non-negotiable. Lysandra only nods. Seret pauses between two shops, one being the most popular jewelry store in the city with a line out the door, the one across the street being an adorable but little known competitor.

Lysandra waits for Seret to get in line for the popular jewelry store, but instead the woman lingers in front of the door of the other shop before opening it. “Don’t peek,” she says with a little smile, shutting the door and triggering the little bell. Lysandra stands there gawking like a fool until Seret emerges ten minutes later holding a little square box.

When Lysandra opens it with trembling hands, she finds a little heart shaped necklace, gold with a silver center on a golden chain. The gold probably isn’t real, probably just paint, but the pink paper wrapping the necklace and the little thank you card inside the box make her smile when the shop across the street wouldn’t.

The plain red and blue shelves in the windows of the other shop, where her family’s jeweler gets his jewels, have nothing on the soft pinks, greens, and browns of the cheap shop owned by twins. They keep flowers in their windows, pink carnations, and prices written in loopy court script.

“Do you like it?” Seret asks nervously, and Lysandra realizes she hasn’t said a word.

“I love it. Thank you.” She offers it up to Seret to clasp around her neck. Seret’s warm fingertips brush the back of her neck, and shivers run down Lysandra’s spine. This is special, her heart keeps telling her, like she doesn’t already know. This is different.

“How did you know?” Lysandra asks.

“Know what?”

“That I’d like this better than the shop across the street.”

“You’re a princess, you’re used to expensive jewelry, and you’ve publicly and loudly denounced royal life. Also, I’d rather give my money to them, seems like they actually need it. Don’t you agree?”

Lysandra has to take a deep breath to keep from blurting out something stupid. “Yes. I agree.”

Their first kiss a day later is a ray of light and a shadow of darkness, colliding and exploding in a glorious show of white and black, settling as ashes and debris into serene, calm gray. They are not the sun and moon. Lysandra is too sharp to be the sun, Seret too dim to be the moon.

It is the death of something. The birth. Lysandra can’t define what.

***

When Lysandra asks, Seret says she came to Vashiri Valley to visit and experience its delights, after which she meets Lysandra’s eyes and kisses her hands.

Lysandra hangs around the city apartment Seret rents. It’s close to Wynn’s cabin where she sleeps. She hasn’t slept in the palace in months. The layers of security and scrutiny she has to pass to enter are not worth the temporary comfort of a soft bed and her favorite meals.

She’s sleeping beside Seret before long, unable to bear being apart from her for that long, wondering how she behaves during such a precious time. Seret’s arms are even warmer around her under cool sheets, and in the morning, Seret brings her coffee before disappearing behind a white door.

She reappears in a cloud of steam, smelling like sweet flowers and honeysuckle. Lysandra gets to kiss her good morning and wonder how she got so lucky.

They’re invited to plays, the nights at the bars for amateur bards, the travelling witches who perform at the amphitheater. Lysandra has been to every event in this valley at least once, usually at the request of her family, but Seret loves going. Like the city and the shops and the Academy, experiencing Seret’s joy secondhand is intoxicating.

Everywhere they go, every table they sit at, whether it’s the theater or the bar or a café for a simple breakfast, people are fawning over Seret. The entire valley is enamored with Lysandra’s new lover.

Seret seems to find it amusing, the way they pat her arm and show a comical amount of interest in everything she has to say, just waiting for an opportunity to ask questions that they must know will go unanswered.

Lysandra sits quietly, burning from the way Seret entertains them, smiles at them in her private way. She wants Seret all to herself. She’s used to sharing things with the public, she’s had to share herself her whole life, but Seret is different. Lysandra doesn’t care if it’s selfish, Seret is hers.

When everyone finally seems like they’ve gotten their fill of Vashiri’s new inhabitant, Lysandra takes her to the edge of the forest and the dead tall grass fields beside it. She gets to watch the exact moment Seret falls in love.

Seret has never grinned, never raised her voice louder than a murmur, but her hitch of breath and the way she reaches for Lysandra’s hand is all she needs. Pride blooms in Lysandra’s chest at the realization she’s learned Seret’s little tells like that.

“It’s just a field,” she laughs. She’s laughing more, now, thanks to Seret. Stoic, cynical, unpleasant Princess Lysandra, laughing. This is why she hasn’t let Arlin near Seret yet, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No, it’s not,” Seret breathes, radiating darkness and mystery in a way that is curious, enticing, instead of harmful. Lysandra just wants to follow her into the shadows where no others can see them, hurt them, touch them. “Can’t you see?”

Lysandra strains her neck, but it’s not the fact that Seret is taller than her that’s the problem. “No.”

Seret pulls her along and begins running instead of answering. Lysandra yelps in surprise and stumbles along, staring enviously at Seret’s long legs—long legs, long arms, long face, long fingers, everything about Seret is long. She sweeps Lysandra up in her arms and spins her around, feet in the air, Seret’s strong arms keeping her up.

Seret is grinning for the first time, showing perfect white teeth, her joy the only reason Lysandra doesn’t scream in shock. She trusts Seret utterly, she realizes in a paralyzing moment of clarity, the sun warming her back, the wind blowing through her hair. Seret has never given her a reason not to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lysandra asks, though she can’t keep the joy out of her own voice. Seret is infectious. Anything she feels reflects on Lysandra.

“We had fields exactly like this in the city where I grew up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen these yet.” She finally sets Lysandra down and immediately kisses her, as has become a habit the last week. Lysandra gives in, gives over entirely.

She has twisted and forced a key into the lock of her heart, but now, she hands the broken key to Seret and wishes her lucky trying to fit it in the rusty, damaged old lock. Lysandra knows she’ll unlock it fast, her eyebrows pinched and frowning in concentration, long fingers working quickly.

She doesn’t tell her that, of course.

Even then, Lysandra knew.

***

They find a cabin at the edge of the fields and the forest which they quickly move into, abandoning Arlin and the boys and Lysandra's family and Vashiri Valley for themselves. Lysandra has no remorse.

Seret shows her how to live in darkness, in quiet, in peace. They prepare coffee in the mornings before the sun floods the fields with light, arms brushing and using only using their sleepy voices when they need to, not wanting to disturb the holy peace of the morning.

They bathe in the evenings indoors where the fading sun doesn’t reach, sitting close in a tub of river water that Lysandra heats.

They spend all day laying on their backs in the fields, one of them lying on the other while someone’s hair is stroked and someone speaks over the wind.

When the afternoon heat turns the sunlight from pleasantly warm to scorching, they move to the shade of the big oak tree near their cabin to eat.

The shadows are their friends in this haven, where no one and nothing else exists but them. Seret trusts them like they trust each other, content to close her eyes and lay her head back against the trunk when she’s done eating.

Lysandra loves the warmth of the sun, but she hates the harsh white spotlight of her family, the prickly rules tying her down, the sense that she can’t ever escape their restraining eyes. She can hide in the darkness from Seret. They’ll never catch her.

Lysandra has never been so invincible, light enough to be picked up on a cloud every time the wind blows. Seret is the only magical thing she’s met that doesn’t have a drop of magic within her.

Seret is ineffable. Unknowable. Larger than life. Lysandra can never hope to understand her fully, but she can try, she can watch and observe, attempt to learn the inner workings of Seret’s mind.

“Seret?” Lysandra asks one afternoon just like every other, where the peace and warmth of their retreat cannot be broken. “Where are you from?”

It is the first time she has asked. She holds her breath, waiting for Seret’s answer, which takes a long time to come. Seret chews on her lip, her expression as guarded as always, until she finally smiles. “Wherever you want me to be from. North, south, east, west, I’ve visited them all. Pick one and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysandra’s chest opens to swallow an ache of emptiness. “Maybe later.” It’s not what she wanted, and they both know it. Lysandra inches mere breaths away from Seret’s side, but it won’t go unnoticed. She thought Seret might actually tell her. She rubs the small gold heart between her fingers and sighs.

“Hey,” Seret says, turning Lysandra’s chin towards her. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, more than you know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Need, embarrassing and whiny, sneaks into Lysandra’s voice, but she ignores it. She’s entitled to this answer, at least.

“I don’t want to shatter your world.” Seret sighs and shifts to take Lysandra’s hands in both of hers. “I am from the south. I ran away from home at a young age to travel because my upbringing was hell, and I’ve never stopped since.”

Lysandra breathes out.

“None of that changes how I feel about you,” Seret continues, pleading, the most passionate Lysandra has ever heard her. “I have never met anyone like you, even with everywhere I’ve been. I do not want anyone but you.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Lysandra, and hearing it now gives her pause. The way Seret’s eyes burn on her skin with their dark intensity is exquisite. Lysandra will never get used to it. She does not want to.

“I would not want this with anyone else.” It does not mean the same thing, but Seret smiles, close mouthed, anyway. At times like this, Seret’s secretive nature makes Lysandra’s blood boil, unvoiced screams rise in her throat. She has given so much of herself already, why can Lysandra not know of her past, her family, her ugliest emotions?

She never wants Seret to treat her like glass. The first day they met, Seret got it right. Lysandra can’t bear the thought that Seret is any less perfect than she thinks, that would shatter her, not knowledge of the world beyond the valley.

Lysandra has gotten all she will today. She is content to sigh deeply and lay her head on Seret’s arm. Seret will stroke Lysandra’s hair, and the wind will ruffle her own, and Lysandra’s urge to push it back will fight the warmth settling into her bones. They are fine. They will be fine. Nothing more.

***

On lucky occasions, Seret shares stories of her travels from who knows when, who knows where. She has been everywhere, she said, and Lysandra believes her. She asks about the north, the far east, the west, and Seret’s homeland, the south.

The south could mean any number of things. Lysandra has never been out of Vashiri Valley, and her family have always been vague about what lies beyond their mountains, but Seret describes an actual ocean, the cold water wrapping around her ankles, the hot sand burning her feet.

She takes Lysandra to a desert in her mind, great, sprawling cities, icy lakes and snowy mountains to the north. To the east, she says, more ocean with great brown ships. Lysandra doesn’t care if she’s lying.

She lays in the grass on her side and lets the wind blow her skirts while she travels the world in her mind. Seret closes her eyes and traces mountains, rivers, canyons on her spine, unconsciously pointing in those directions. Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat.

Seret opens her eyes briefly to ask, “Am I boring you?”

Never. You couldn’t if you tried.

Lysandra shakes her head. Seret’s slow, easy smile returns, and the warm fingers on the skin revealed by her backless dress whisk her away to a thousand new worlds so big she can’t even imagine them.

***

“Does it ever bother you that I’m a princess?”

Seret smiles. “That isn’t something that would bother most people in my position.”

“I’d disagree. As the lover of a princess, you have no privacy, there’s expectations, rules you have to follow, harassment…I suppose a better word would be faze. You met and introduced yourself and spoke to me as if I were normal.”

“I called you my princess. the day we met.”

At Lysandra’s withering look, Seret chuckles. “Who said you aren’t normal? You didn’t have any control over what family you were born into. I would still feel the same if you hadn’t rejected your family and your role, if you were princess first and person second. It would be a bit harder to get to you, though, in that stronghold. To me, in that bar, you were just the prettiest girl in the nicest dress with the most captivating eyes. They told me you were a princess—so what? I love you anyway.”

Lysandra’s cheeks burn hot, and she chokes on saliva. The wind picks up, and she feels like she’s falling. How can Seret just say things like that and expect Lysandra not to explode and melt into the sun? “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Seret smiles again. “I’m not looking to get anywhere. I’m not like those people at the bar when we met. I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m not not trying to be like anyone. I’m not looking to impress you, honestly. I’m just being honest.”

Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat like a branch stuck in a river, unfazed by the powerful oncoming waves.

Seret is clearly not looking to hear it back, but Lysandra gathers all her courage and quietly says, “I love you, too. I--”

She shies away from Seret’s intense gaze, burning on the back of her neck. “I’m not good at, uh. Saying things like this. Like you. But I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for me, given me. This place is nothing short of perfect. Every minute we’ve spent together has been nothing short of perfect. I’m sorry I haven’t given you anything back.”

“My dear, you are quite mistaken. You’ve given me the ultimate gift: yourself. The opportunity to know your heart, your mind. You’ve let me in when I can tell you have trouble doing so.”

She kisses the back of Lysandra’s hand, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as she often does. It still makes Lysandra’s entire being heat like the sun itself came down to lay its rays gently onto her, powerful but careful with her.

“You are my entire world,” says Seret, the sun. “The most precious creature in all the places I’ve visited, all the creatures in this valley alone.”

Lysandra smiles. “You haven’t met Wynn Scylla’s dragonlings.”

Deflect. Defend. Dismiss. Seret sees through it.

Lysandra lays their lips together, hoping to convey without the painful process of words said aloud just how much Seret makes her hurt. Seret makes her burn and ache in the best of ways, like a satisfying stretch after waking up from a stiff nap.

Seret challenges her to face things she loves shying away from, things like the swelling of her heart which she hasn’t felt in years. Seret is terrifying, all consuming, but Lysandra can’t imagine a world without her. Much of her allure comes from her mystery, however infuriating her secrecy is.

Hours later, when they’re full and sated from dinner, after they wash the dishes side by side at the river and after they’ve bathed in the tub in the house, Lysandra hears a faint hum, high and low, continuous, lulling and soft. She turns her head and discovers it’s Seret, humming to herself as she drapes the wet towels out to dry. “What’s that you’re humming?”

Seret pauses her sweet melody. “Hm? Oh, just some music from the east. If I had the proper instruments, I would play the tune.”

Lysandra chokes on air. “You can play music, too?”

Seret smiles. “I can do many things.”

“Oh?” Lysandra doesn’t know where her sudden burst of courage comes from. Perhaps she’s the one looking to get somewhere. She raises an eyebrow and crooks a finger, hoping a low tone will convey her point. “Come here and show me.”

Seret is quiet, face blank. Lysandra wonders, belatedly, if she does in fact have unknown boundaries.

When Seret desperately searches her eyes for consent, Lysandra realizes it was shock and not disgust that rendered her speechless. “You mean—” Seret asks, hoarse, never breaking eye contact. Lysandra shivers. She had that effect on her?

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, Seret’s hungry gaze fixed on Lysandra’s pale shoulders, the towel wrapped around her middle. Then they’re both moving at once, mouths moving in the same pattern of Seret’s melody, a symphony of hearts beating in time.

If Lysandra is Seret’s world, Seret is the center of Lysandra’s.

***

At long last, Lysandra’s family gets wind of Seret. Lysandra doesn’t want to know how. Maybe Wynn and Petrus spread it around by accident—she loves those boys, but they couldn’t keep a secret if they tried. Maybe it was Arlin, who Lysandra finally let meet Seret.

All she does know is that her family is demanding to meet their middle princess’s lover, which means they’ll clarify if they’re allowed to be together or not.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whimpers, on the edge of tears in Seret’s arms. “I don’t want them to touch us with a ten foot stick, but if we don’t go, they’ll send someone out here to find us and disrupt our world. I’m so sorry.” Something about her family interfering in her and Seret’s affairs makes Lysandra boil like nothing else.

“It’s okay, my princess,” Seret murmurs into her hair, cupping the back of her head, rocking them back and forth. “We’ll go, I’ll tell them what they want to know, we’ll come right back here. It will only be a few hours. Their opinion won’t change how I feel about you, but I’ll do whatever you feel is best.” The sorrow in Seret’s tone implies too much.

Lysandra pulls back. “Don’t you ever think I’d leave you for my family. Right now, I’m thinking much the opposite.”

Seret purses her lips. “What objection would they have to me? The whole valley seems to like me, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re not a noble, you don’t have a title, you have nothing to offer them, you won’t even tell anyone where you’re from, and you’re the lover of their middle child.”

Her voice is bitter, matching her heart. Seret’s arms tighten protectively around her. Lysandra switches from bitterness to anger to guilt in a second. How dare her family do this to them? What makes them think they have this right?

They control Vashiri Valley, but Lysandra can’t remember the last time they appeared in public, and their power is distant at best.

They control Vashiri Valley, but they can’t control her.

“No matter what they say,” Lysandra says into Seret’s chest, “I am never leaving you. You’ll have to pry me away. Whatever polite, diplomatic accusations or insults they throw at you, ignore them. You don’t have to tell anyone, especially them, about yourself. You’re with me because I love you, and that’s all we care about. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs reassuring, Lysandra.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.” She pulls back from warmth to wipe her eyes, hot shame from crying coating her face, but Seret pulls her back in.

“There’s no shame here,” she whispers, kissing Lysandra’s temple. “Comforting you is my pleasure, though I wish you didn’t have a reason to cry. Everything’s going to be okay, my princess.”

Lysandra breathes.

She wears the gown she wore when she and Seret met, soft pink with a low neckline, tiered ruffles reaching down to her ankles, frilly short sleeves. Maybe familiarity will give her some comfort, whether that’s Seret’s hand on her thigh or this dress pinching her arm.

Seret wears the same black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket she always wears, thoroughly combs her hair, but leaves the hat at home.

At the dinner, she is perfect. she speaks only when spoken to, sits with that straight, enviable posture, praises the food like it’s the substance of heaven itself, the best she’s ever had.

She’s gracious, thankful, answers every question they ask. If she had a title, Lysandra knows her family would be simply begging them to marry.

Things start out pleasant, her family treating Seret with the polite, arm’s length attitude Lysandra expected. Finally, the dreaded question comes.

“So, Seret,” Lysandra’s mother asks, folding her hands, “where are you from?”

Lysandra clutches her necklace, the one Seret gave her, and prays. Please don’t let them be the first ones you tell. They don’t deserve that.

Seret smiles. “This soup is delicious, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve said so already.” Her mother is reaching the end of her patience—Lysandra has been on the other end of that short patience dozens of times. Her blue feathered hat and perfect red lips cover up a much nastier woman. “Please tell us about where you live.”

“Well, Lysandra and I have been living next to the forest all summer. The fields there are positively peaceful, you should visit them sometime.” She pauses to let horror sink into the hearts of luxury groomed royals. Lysandra bites down on a smile. “But I am technically still renting an apartment in the city.”

“Where you came from,” Lysandra’s father adds, sharp, on the end of his patience as well. Lysandra wonders how much Seret prepared for this. Seret is smart, she must’ve known she couldn’t wiggle her way out of the question with her usual tricks. “Maybe who your parents are.”

Seret appears to consider the question. “I’d rather not say,” she says, stirring her drink with her spoon. Silence falls onto the room. Lysandra holds her breath.

Her mother nods her head tightly. “Very well. In that case, we’re going to have to insist you stop seeing our daughter.”

Seret bows her head in humble acceptance, but Lysandra stands up, every fiber of her being filling with inexplicable rage. She told herself she wouldn’t display a reaction, she would just accept the denial and then ignore it, like Seret will, but hearing it so frankly from her mother’s lips is different from imagining it.

“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can and can’t see just because you feel like it,” she spits. “I’m an adult. I haven’t lived here full time or done the duties you ask of me for years. You should disown me. Save yourselves the trouble of dealing with me any longer.”

Seret’s hand lands firmly on her knee as if to say no, don’t. Lysandra captures her hand and holds it above the table for the whole family to see.

“You’re the one who chose to come here,” Lysandra’s mother says.

“Yes, because I knew you’d hound us if we didn’t.” Lysandra can feel her chest being ripped open from the top down. Seret’s fingers squeezing hers is the only thing tethering her to herself. She pulls tightly on Seret’s fingers, who takes the hint and stands. They walk out without another word, without a glance back.

When they get back to the cabin, Lysandra sinks onto the couch in their living room face first, and immediately begins to cry. The seconds it takes for the door to click and Seret’s boots to march across the wood are far too long, until warm arms wrap around Lysandra’s back and Seret buries her nose in the back of her hair. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, which only makes Lysandra sob harder.

“I don’t know why it still matters. I knew this was exactly what they’d say. I didn’t want it to affect me. I want to move on from them.”

Seret stays quiet, just letting Lysandra exist and holding her through it. They don’t speak about it again.

Things are different after that. The fields and the cabin have been tainted with mere mention of the royal family’s presence. The spell has been broken.

The wind comes less, the sun seems to burn in a way it didn’t before. Lysandra doesn’t treasure dawn and dusk the way she used to, and baths are just baths. The only thing that hasn’t lost its magic is Seret, as kind and loving as always.

A week later, Seret begins taking trips into the city to gather everything from her apartment and bring it to the cabin, everything of Lysandra’s from Wynn’s cottage.

No matter how many times Lysandra offers to help, Seret insists she’s fine, she doesn’t want Lysandra to come into the city and get hounded and harassed by the usual people dying to meet the princess.

Arlin and the others come to visit a few times to keep her company while Seret’s gone, to speak about the upcoming Academy year, their last year, to learn the place Lysandra disappeared to the entire summer.

She’s happy to see them, happy for the company, but her heart never stops aching for Seret, wondering what she’s doing. Arlin and the boys stay for dinner well after Seret’s back, so she’s never given a moment alone to think.

This continues for a month.

Arlin and the boys become as intimately familiar with the cabin, the fields, the river, and the forest as Lysandra was with Wynn’s cottage on the forest’s other side.

Lysandra flies toward the end of summer in a haze, perpetually afraid to break the peace, shatter the dream, feel the cold seep into her bones once more. She has grown so used to the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the safety of Seret’s arms and her soothing voice.

Seret is never too loud, never jarring. Seret seems to float on the wind; sometimes her mind is lost to Lysandra as she stares into the sky at nothing.

Seret is—

Seret is many things. Nothing at all. Everything all at once.

Ineffable.

On what Seret says will be her last day of moving, she kisses Lysandra’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back,” like always. Lysandra thinks that’s rather silly—of course she’ll be back, that’s a given—but it’s sweet.

Arlin and the boys won’t be over since they have to collect their books for school in two weeks and otherwise prepare. Lysandra spends the day in the river, letting the water suck all the thoughts from her head.

By the evening, as Lysandra waits on the porch with dinner ready, Seret is still not back.

She probably got held up with the loading carts she’s been using, Lysandra tells herself as she gathers her shawl, puts on a dress fit for the town’s eyes, and begins the long walk there. She stopped to have dinner, or something. Maybe she met Wynn’s dragonlings at last.

Seret would’ve run back here herself to tell Lysandra she wouldn’t be back until later because of the dragonlings, or she would’ve sent a magical letter, or something. Seret has told her over and over how much she hates to see Lysandra in pain, and how she’ll never, ever be the cause of even the slightest worry.

Dread sits heavily in Lysandra’s chest.

The area near the school is in chaos, looking for her. No one she meets will tell her what’s going on, why they refuse to meet her eyes, why they offer faint smiles in place of explanations.

When Lysandra is shown the rooms in the Academy Seret broke into, the bizarre circles drawn on the floor in chalk, the thick books lying open, the blood splattered all over the floor, and finally, Seret’s body lying on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed, Lysandra falls to her knees and doesn’t get up.

Her entire being is shattered with a force she didn’t know existed, with waves of invisible pain too strong for this realm. Everything feels empty and quiet, but not quiet in the serene way of Seret’s.

She screams, and it rips her open. It rips every part of good out of her and replaces her with numb, muffled, faint feeling. Later the waves of pain will come back, the longing for Seret’s warm arms to wrap around her and make everything all better, but now, she’s able to look at the body with only thin trails of tears streaming down her face.

Seret’s white shirt is soaked through with a circle of bright red blood. The whole scene is almost unreal. If not for the blood and the cold feel of her hand, Lysandra’s Seret Ashling looks the same. Her hair is neatly arranged, her face free of the splattered blood.

Death is too simple a word for what happens to Seret.

She is gone, says a voice, Seret’s voice, her smiling face haunting Lysandra behind her closed eyes. The ghost of Seret’s fingers cup her jaw, stroke her cheekbones, brush soft lips over her forehead, push her spectacles up.

I love you, my princess, Lysandra hears when she touches her ear to the floor, soaking the front of her dress with her blood, such a cruel reminder of Seret’s humanity. She was brutally, unfortunately, unbelievably human. She may have reached beyond this realm to grab a fist of love for Lysandra, a greater capacity than any human could hold, but that couldn’t save her from her own humanity.

I’ll be back. Seret’s last words to her.

She wasn’t just going into town to move.

Lysandra clutches the necklace Seret gave her and squeezes until it hurts. It fits easily in her palm, hangs right over her heart. The death of Seret Ashling is going to hit Vashiri Valley like the rare storms, unforgiving and violent, bringing destruction that takes years to recover from.

Lysandra squeezes the necklace, closes her eyes, and breathes slowly, steadily. The storm will wipe her out faster and harder than anyone else, but she’s the one who has to control it singlehandedly, and that will be about as easy as trying to capture an actual storm from the ground.

She won’t survive this, but she’s known for months that if anything ever happened to Seret, she never would. She can only submit to the darkness—the bad kind, this time—awaiting her, return to reality behind this door.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another One?!, Part 2

First > Next

Years passed them by. It’s funny how that happens when no one in the house has a distinct schedule to follow. 

The hours blending together was actually really good for them as vigilantes. People couldn’t just plan around their normal patrolling hours.

Also, it meant that they could take days off without anyone thinking much of it.

Like today.

He glared at his reflection, touching his hair for the millionth time in an attempt to fix it. Or, rather, un-fix it. He was going for a messier look, why couldn’t he just get it to cooperate?

He gave his wife a pleading look. “Help?”

She clicked her tongue and looked him up and down a few times to get a gauge for his outfit (which he had purposely made too vague for her to get an idea of what they were doing) then rested her hands on her hips. “Well, I’d love to help…”

“But…?”

“But I can’t use my expertise unless I know where we’re going. There’s certain looks for different occasions, after all.”

He sighed. “C’mon…”

She bit her lip. “Fine. Just tell me how formal I need to be.”

“Casual…” He hesitated as he mulled it over. “But not jeans casual, more like day-dress casual. And wear darker colors, you could get stains on it.”

“There, was that so hard?”

He raised his eyebrow at her. “Considering I’m sure you’ve now guessed the surprise, I’m going to say yes.”

She gave him a cheeky grin and a wink.

He pouted. Man. He’d been so careful about keeping everything a secret from her. It was their tenth anniversary, he’d wanted to surprise her. He’d pulled out all the stops, even using cash for the tickets so she wouldn’t have an easy way to trace the payments.

Only to have it spoiled because of his hair.

Dang.

Then, she laughed and he thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad that she’d found out. The smile was worth it.

She reached up and started running her fingers through his hair. “As always, your problem is that you use too much hair gel… you never learn, do you…?”

“Maybe I do it on purpose to make you mess with my hair.”

She gave him a skeptical look and then pulled away. “Done. Time to get ready for… a carnival…? No… a circus.”

He pouted.

Marinette gave him another one of those laughs before slipping into the bathroom to change.

Two hours later they sat in a circus tent. Front-row seats, of course, they weren’t stingy.

She rested her head on his shoulder as they waited for everything to start. He stole some of her popcorn and smiled at the halfhearted glare he earned. His smile dropped when she dropped some onto his head. He pulled away from her to try and pick the pieces out.

“C’mon, Mari, my hair took so long. The paparazzi always checks on us on our anniversaries. I’m a model, you can’t do this to me --.”

And then the lights dimmed. And the ringmaster walked out.

The both of them tensed. The crowd was buzzing with excitment, but the two vigilantes gave each other wary looks. The ringmaster seemed almost anxious, his knuckles white on his cane.

Still, he gave a brilliant smile to the crowd as he announced the first act.

They relaxed the longer they watched. Nothing seemed to be going wrong, the contortionist was absolutely fine. So was the person doing aerial silks, and the clowns, the snake charmer…

Maybe the ringmaster was just new. He seemed to be growing more and more confident with each act. False alarm.

But then the trapeze artists came onstage.

Marinette murmured something about their outfits that he didn’t catch but knew was insulting.

The young performer smiled and waved to the crowd, then started climbing the opposite ladder as his parents.

The mom grabbed ahold of the trapeze and smiled as she hooked her knees over the bar, then held her hands out for her husband. The man jumped out and caught her hands.

And then the wire snapped.

The couple barely had a chance to scream before they hit the dirt.

The tent was completely silent.

And then the chaos started. Parents rushed to cover their kids’ eyes, people stumbled over each other as they ran, others surged forward to see better.

He could feel Marinette hop the railing in front of them to go check their pulses. There was no need, everyone could see it plainly, but she still tried.

Adrien didn’t move, his eyes locked on the kid.

He was standing there. He was hugging himself tightly, shaking, tears spilling over his cheeks.

He needed help.

A hand wrapped around his wrist. Marinette was pulling him out of the tent. He didn’t want to leave the kid alone but he couldn’t do that as Adrien Agreste. They needed to transform.

It took way too long to find a hiding place because people were already hiding in every obvious place they could think of. After a while they just broke into a trailer and dropped some money on the counter as an apology, unable to waste any more time.

They ran back into the tent and found that, to their horror, the police were there already.

Marinette mumbled a curse. “You deal with the kid, I’m going to steal some evidence before they get rid of it all.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then practically disappeared.

Adrien found his way over to the child, who had been covered in a shock blanket. They flinched when he got closer and he gave his most award-winning smile as he held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I don’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

They looked kind of skeptical, but they did scoot over a little on their bench so he could sit down.

He sat as far away as he could, setting his baton at his feet carefully. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

His eyes never wavered from the front of the tent. It was like he was waiting for something or someone, but Adrien couldn’t guess what.

“Dick.”

“Well, Dick, do you have any family that I can take you to?”

Maybe that was what he was waiting for --?

“No.”

His smile disappeared. Ah. Not great.

He followed his gaze to the door and mulled everything over.

The kid didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, the shock was wearing off but it would still make the passage of time kind of weird for him. Adrien could take the time to think his next words through.

He’d met kids who had lost their last remaining family members before. Sometimes Marinette and Adrien just couldn’t get there in time and she wouldn’t be able to bring them back. It was an inevitable and unfortunately common part of their jobs. But every single time felt like a punch to the gut.

But he couldn’t let that show, not really.

He watched the kid out of the corner of his eyes. You always base your approach on how the kid is reacting in the moment. Some wanted open comfort, but this one didn’t want that if the way he’d flinched when Adrien had come close was any indication. Others wanted to just talk, also not going to happen considering the short answers he’d been given thus far. This kid seemed to just want to be left alone, but leaving a child in a vulnerable state was never a good idea.

So, what was he supposed to do?

He sighed. “I’m really sorry about what happened, these kinds of accidents --.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Adrien blanked. “Sorry?”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Dick hugged the blanket tighter around himself. “There was two guys. Mean-looking. Tried to get Mr. Haly to do some… protection payments? Left all mad and stuff. Said they would get paid or get payback.”

He was so shocked that the kid had given an answer with more than a few words in it that his brain buzzed right past the information he was given and he had to backtrack to actually process it.

And, when he did, his fists clenched.

“Did they mention any names?” He asked quietly, fighting to keep his voice level. This was still a kid who needs help, he couldn’t allow his anger to mess that up.

“Zucco.”

Adrien filed that information away for later and then gave the kid a once-over. They were no longer staring at the door, instead just fidgeting under their blanket. It was good that they were coming out of shock, but he doubted that Dick would see it that way. The numbness would be wearing off soon, and the feelings that would come to take its place would be painful.

He did the only thing he could think of: try and distract the kid. Good to see he’s passing on the unhealthy coping mechanisms.

“Hey, are you going to stay in the circus?”

“Can I?” Said Dick. He didn’t seem all that excited, just confused. As if he hadn’t thought that an option.

Adrien shrugged. “I mean, there’s that whole thing about ‘running away and joining the circus’. Even if they force you into an orphanage, you can probably just come back here.”

“I hear orphanages suck.”

True. He doubted that Dick would get the mental health treatment he needed (if he got any at all) and the money at those kinds of places were always stretched thin, especially in Gotham. He didn’t like the idea of sending the kid there, but what other choices did he have?

Before he could really think of an answer a hand clapped itself over his shoulder.

He barely even looked back. He knew who it was going to be. He fought back a groan.

“Ross,” he said, the smile on his face becoming more strained. He wasn’t going to fight in front of Dick, the kid was already stressed enough. “Nice to see you again.”

The cop didn’t seem all that concerned about niceties, his grip tightening on Adrien’s shoulder. “Get away from my witness.”

“He has a name. And he doesn’t know anything. Leave him alone.”

Dick frowned. “But I --.”

Marinette popped up out of nowhere, arms crossed over her chest as she openly glared at the officer. “You guys should keep better track of the evidence you actually do have, someone might take it.”

Officer Ross went pale and then ran to his partner to ask where the evidence was.

Adrien was also pale, though for different reasons. This kid didn’t know that the police were corrupt and that telling them anything would likely end in him getting killed? He couldn’t let that happen. Where could he keep him that they wouldn’t check? An orphanage or the circus wouldn’t work, those would be the first places they’d go…

He brought a smile to his face as he carefully leaned towards the kid. To his delight, he didn’t flinch or lean away. Progress!

“Hey, I’ve got some friends that I think I can give you to. Good people. They’ll take care of you until we can find something more permanent, sound good?”

Dick looked a little skeptical but he nodded.

Adrien carefully scooped the kid up in his arms and looked at his wife. “I’m going to take him, you can go home for the night and relax.” He sent her a discreet wink.

She smiled faintly and gave Dick a tiny wave before slipping out of the tent.

Good. She’d understood.

~

She had definitely not understood.

You see, winks are ambiguous.

Adrien’s wink had meant ‘Get home and brush up on your acting skills because we need to sell this’.

She had thought his wink had meant ‘It’s our anniversary and we shouldn’t be working anyways. Go ahead and head home, we’ve already done too much and I want to relax with my darling wife’.

So, when she’d gotten home she’d detransformed and slipped into some comfy pajamas and plopped herself down on the couch to watch some TV.

And then the door had opened.

She’d smiled and poked her head up. “Back already? That was quick --.”

Adrien was still holding Dick to himself.

Tikki gave a quiet gasp of surprise and zipped between the couch cushions.

Her husband smiled. “Hey, can I cash in a favor?”

Marinette opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, and then pursed her lips tightly. She couldn’t exactly say ‘no’, because now that she thought about it they really didn’t have any other options (kids have a tendency to have no filter and this one seemed to lack any common sense at all if she was judging by his outfit)...

Didn’t mean she couldn’t be bitter. They should have had more of a conversation about this than a wink, and she was going to tell him that:

“I don’t know, Chat, my husband isn’t here right now. This is the kind of thing you’re supposed to discuss with your partner.”

Adrien winced almost imperceptibly and had the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sure he’d be fine with it. Please, I have nowhere else I can take him.”

She bit her lip and looked at the kid, then squeezed her eyes shut.

There was a more selfish reason that they both wanted to do this…

They wanted kids. It had just never really been an option for them. If she wanted to get pregnant, she would pretty much have to give up crime-fighting for those nine months (and possibly permanently, that stuff has long-term effects). They couldn’t really bring themselves to adopt, either, because their lives were hectic and every single book in the world says that adoptees need a stable home.

She couldn’t let their wishes cloud their judgment. She was supposed to be the rational one. They would certainly mess this kid up, taking him wasn’t an option…

But leaving him wasn’t an option…

And it was kind of like the universe was dropping Dick into their laps…

Dick started to sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes. Damn. She’d taken too long and now he felt rejected.

Her heart clenched. The kid didn’t deserve this...

“I… we can take him… but only temporarily. We need to find a better home for him eventually.”

It was best that none of them got their hopes up. This wasn’t a good solution, just the only one they could think of at the moment. At some point they’d think of a better one, and they’d have to do that.

Adrien and Dick both nodded.

Marinette slowly walked over and leaned down slightly to be at the kid’s eye level. “I’m Marinette Agreste. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Richard. You can call me Dick, though.”

Listen. She wasn’t proud of what she’d said. But she’d never heard it before -- she was far less social than Adrien was -- and, really, how do you get the name ‘Dick’ from ‘Richard’?

“I don’t think you understand how much I cannot do that.”

Adrien had had to set Dick down, he was laughing so hard.

~

When he came home (as Adrien, this time), he was surprised to see Marinette stress baking.

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, adopting a child is a stressful situation even if you had been expecting it. And they definitely had not been expecting it.

He watched her bake for a moment in the doorway.

She clicked her tongue. “Are you just going to watch me bake or are you going to come inside? Or do I have to make a ‘look what the cat dragged in’ joke everytime I see you, now?”

He smiled and took a seat on the counter. “What’re you making?”

“Cookies.” She turned around for some flour and then sent him a half-hearted glare when she saw him sitting next to it. “I was using that counter.”

“Unfortunate.”

Marinette clicked her tongue again and then moved to another spot. “When...” She grimaced a little. “When… the kid wakes up from a nightmare -- because there’s no way that he wouldn’t have one after tonight -- I’d like to at least have something sweet ready for him. I know we’re not his parents or whatever, but he should at least feel welcome while he’s here.”

He sobered a little, pulling a knee to his chest. “The whole vigilante thing… we’re going to have to put it on hold for a little while, you know…”

“There’s no way we can properly take care of a kid and be Chat Noir and Ladybug. Or, at least, we’d need to make some changes.” She procured a whisk out of seemingly nowhere and started whisking the batter.

He raised his eyebrows. “Changes?”

“We could take shifts. I’d take night shifts as Ladybug and day shifts parenting the kid. You do the opposite.”

“We’d burn out,” said Adrien with a sigh.

“Well, what are we supposed to do? Give the city over to Superman? Guy is shady enough as it is.”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s not shady, you just can’t handle people being nice to you.”

“MY POINT IS that we can’t just stop protecting the city. Especially not if the mob is going after circuses of all things.”

“Yeah, why are they doing that? Is there really money from circuses? Aren’t they all going out of fashion because of that whole ‘animal abuse’ thing most of them have going on?”

“As they should,” she murmured. She finished whisking and started searching for something in the drawers. She procured a scoop and started making rows of cookies. “But, probably, smuggling. No one bats an eye when circuses cross borders, that’s kind of their whole thing.”

He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Still seems like a hassle, especially now that they’re probably going to be more heavily regulated because those people died.”

“Well, hopefully their sacrifice won’t be in vain. The bit of trapeze wire I stole from the police might give us some leads on the guy’s pseuds.”

“Are you calling up Nygma?”

She shrugged and set the cookies in the oven. “Kinda. He hasn’t done anything in three months, so he’s due any day now. I’ll talk to him about it after saving whoever he captured this time… unless you want to talk to him instead?”

He grinned. “No, I could never go instead of you. You like making fun of his outfit too much.”

“Awwww, thanks, Chaton,” she cooed. She took a seat next to him and pressed a short kiss to his lips. “You know me so well.”

“Well, we’ve been partners for fifteen years. You’d hope I’d know you by now.”

She smiled faintly and leaned into him. She watched the timer tick down for a little while in silence, biting her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“I mean, even if the trapeze was sabotaged, what are the chances that the acid is something special that we can trace to him? One of us is going to have to go undercover.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And leave Dick alone?”

“There’s no way Zucco is only going after this one place. We can’t take back what’s happened to him, but we can at least make sure he’s the only one to have to go through this.”

Adrien frowned. She was right, though he hated it. While they had given themselves the obligation of taking care of Dick, they couldn’t just drop everything for him. Especially considering their jobs.

“Okay, M’lady, what’s the plan?”

“Well, I hear that the circus is looking for new trapeze artists.”

~

She smiled as she set the last of the cookies in the Tupperware and started heading towards Dick’s new room.

Her conversation with Adrien had gone a lot better than she was expecting, honestly. She’d explained her reasoning for why it would be safe now and he’d, however reluctantly, agreed that she’d made sense.

She decided she’d wait a few days for everything to end up in the news properly before asking to join the circus. After all, it would be suspicious if she called just a few hours after a tragedy.

She stopped outside the former guest room and considered knocking… and then decided she’d better not. On the off chance that Dick wasn’t having a nightmare, she didn’t want to wake him.

She pressed the door open and then stopped cold when she saw that the kid was crying.

Marinette glanced behind her, wondering if she could get away with just walking past and acting like she was going to the bathroom or something. She wasn’t good with emotions, not with people close to her. Random people on the street were fine, people she’d never have to interact with again were fine, but this…

She was not nearly as good as Adrien… but Adrien was asleep, the fucker...

“Miss Marinette?” Said the kid.

She winced mentally and reached along the wall for the light. “Yes, sweetie, it’s me.”

The light flicked on and she saw Dick duck his head so his hair would hide his face.

“I brought cookies,” she said awkwardly as she walked over and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just went with chocolate chip.”

He nodded slightly and mumbled his thanks as he took the Tupperware from her.

She bit her lip as he nibbled at her cookies, and then couldn’t help but smile at the way his posture relaxed a little.

“These are good.”

“My parents were bakers. I’d have been disowned if I couldn’t make chocolate chip cookies.”

He cracked the tiniest of smiles.

She floundered again in the new silence. There’s a difference between comfortable silences and awkward ones and this was definitely feeling more on the awkward side.

“I could teach you to bake, if you’d like. I doubt you had time to learn on the road.”

He hesitated. “I’d burn the place down.”

“That’s okay. If I could teach Adrien to cook then there’s hope for anyone.”

She had not, in fact, been able to teach Adrien to cook. He had set the entire kitchen on fire in what they now called The Brownie Incident… but Dick didn’t need to know that.

He smiled a little more and leaned back against the bed frame, still eating cookies. He had to be on his third one by now. She wasn’t going to call him out on it, though.

She glanced him over. He was no longer really hiding his face, and the tears had stopped sliding down his cheeks. He seemed content. She didn’t want to drag any feelings back, but...

“Would you like to talk about your nightmare?” She asked quietly.

“No.”

She winced internally. “Okay. Would you like me to leave?”

“No.”

Marinette let a little bit of surprise show on her face for just a second before slowly scooting over to lay next to him. She took a cookie he offered her and closed her eyes, relaxing a little.

“Are you going to sleep again?”

“No.”

“That’s okay. Do you want that baking lesson now?”

Dick giggled a little. “But we already have cookies…”

“Well, we don’t have any cakes, now, do we? Or brownies. And there’s other types of cookies!”

She peeked an eye open and couldn’t help but smile a little at the grin on the kid’s face at the mention of all the possibilities.

Then he gave her a suspicious look. “Are you trying to fatten me up like an evil witch?”

“Yes,” she said gravely. “I adopt little circus kids and fatten them up to eat. The entire house is actually made of candy.”

To her surprise and slight horror, he actually brought the corner of his blanket to his mouth. Then he spat it out. “Liar!”

“I…” She trailed off. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Moving on. “So, about that baking thing, how do brownies sound?”

He grabbed her by the sleeve of her pajama shirt and pulled her out into the halls with a bright smile. She had to do a half-jog to keep up with him.

“Shhhh, Mister Adrien is asleep!” He stage-whispered.

She scoffed. “Me?! You’re the one running!”

“Shhhhhhhhh!”

Marinette clicked her tongue once and allowed him to pull her into a full on jog as they raced through the house. Really, it was a testament to how tired he was that Adrien didn’t wake up.

She grinned and offered him a hand to get up on the counter, and then was reminded of the fact that he was a literal trapeze artist as he vaulted off of her hand and jumped over her head to get to it.

She whispered a quiet “holy shit” in English, then covered her mouth with her hand. She and Adrien had a sort of unspoken rule that you can only curse in English, it’s just a weird thing that bilingual households do where cursing in the second language just doesn’t count, but now this was an actual kid who spoke (as far as she was aware) only English. She can’t teach him curse words!

But he didn’t seem to hear it, instead smiling as he reached towards the sink and started cleaning his hands.

She washed her hands after him and then started pulling down things to make brownies. Should she do chocolate chips or just cocoa powder…?

She remembered The Brownie Incident.

She shivered.

Cocoa powder. Definitely cocoa powder.

She put some butter in the microwave.

“What does ‘holy shit’ mean?”

She wheezed. “Uh-- I-- um--.”

“I’m just messing with you. I already know.”

Oh thank fuck.

Well, maybe not. She was kind of glad that he was feeling comfortable enough to joke around with her, but… the idea of him secretly being a little shit, while not necessarily surprising, was a bit worrying.

“Okay… good? Just… don’t swear in front of Adrien. I don’t really care, but if he hears you he might think I taught you… so it’s just our little secret, okay?”

He smiled and made a zipping motion across his lips. She copied the motion.

Aw, she’d almost forgotten how cute kids were when they weren’t in dangerous or sad situations.

The microwave beeped and she hummed as she combined the butter, cocoa, and sugar. She stirred a bit and then handed Dick the eggs.

“Here, you can crack three of them into the bowl. Do you know how to do that?”

He huffed. “Yes!”

He, in fact, did not know how to do that.

She watched in open-mouthed horror as he attempted to just pull the egg open without cracking it.

“N… no, sweetie. You need to break it on the counter, first.”

He nodded and then slammed the egg on the counter.

Marinette wiped some egg off of the front of her shirt and then took a few breaths to steady herself. Now that the shock had worn off, she was very tempted to laugh and she was not going to do that to this poor, confused kid.

“I think I did it wrong.”

She snickered and then coughed to cover it up. “I… yes. I’ll show you how to do it.”

He gave a tiny smile as she took his hand and taught him how to crack an egg. He repeated the process with the other two eggs and she worked at cleaning up the mess he’d made.

… how the fuck was there egg on the wall? That was a good seven feet away from the island they were cooking on. Sure, he had to be strong to be an acrobat, but what the fuck?

She sighed and set the napkin done now that he was done and smiled as she added the vanilla, salt, and flour.

She handed him a spatula.

“Stir. Go wild, kid,” she said, 

Big mistake.

Dick took her words to heart, and she watched as he stirred madly, batter flying everywhere.

She laughed, only to get splashed with the batter.

She managed to stop his hand and sent him a tiny glare.

“I'm starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Whaaaat? No.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, and then gasped when he lobbed a tiny bit of batter at her shirt.

“Oops,” he said, giving her a feral grin.

Marinette couldn’t help but smile back… then she reached past him and grabbed a handful of flour. She flicked her fingers and smiled when it got on his face.

He pouted and started rubbing his eyes. “Ow…”

Panic.

“Oh, sorry, did I get it in your eyes?” She leaned down. “Let me see.”

He nodded and slowly brought his hands away from his face and she checked his eyes with her fingers carefully --.

Only to feel an egg smash itself on top of her head.

She wiped some egg from her face and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll get you for that one, you traitor!”

He squealed and set the batter down, then did a backroll away from her.

Marinette and Dick grabbed their weapons…

An hour later, they were both breathing heavily.

“Truce?” She said, lowering her flour-covered arm.

He nodded slowly… and then threw an egg at her.

She dodged it easily and glared at him, her hand already reaching for her flour again —.

“Now truce! Now truce.”

She hesitated, then clicked her tongue as she let herself relax.

They looked around the mess that was the kitchen... at the batter still somehow untouched on the counter… the oven, which hadn’t even been preheated yet…

“Do you just want to eat the batter?”

“Let me get some spoons.”

A few hours later, Adrien walked in… only to stop short when he saw his wife and new kid there, covered in cooking ingredients. Dick had fallen asleep with his head on her shoulder. She was fine with this, there was still some batter left.

“Um…?”

“Brownies are cursed,” she told him, then she took another spoonful.

“What?” Said a bewildered and still half-asleep Adrien.

She looked her husband dead in the eye as she pulled the spoon from her mouth with a tiny ‘pop’.

“Brownies are cursed.”

~

Adrien felt bad homeschooling the kid.

Really, it had brought him a lot of grief growing up. He hadn’t known anyone besides Chloe and Kagami until he was twelve years old.

But, as it turned out, Dick really needed to be homeschooled.

On top of just… having no formal education whatsoever and his general knowledge being a toss of the dice, it was also the middle of the school year and everyone knows you can’t just dump new kids into a class halfway through.

Adrien tipped his head back against his chair and closed his eyes.

Dick was taking a test to see what he had to teach him, but he wasn’t concerned about the kid cheating. What was he going to do? Sneak away, grab a textbook, and start flipping through it without him noticing?

He sighed.

The kid was… weird.

He was always smiling, always in motion, always affectionate. It was something they’d figured out quickly, but it had taken longer to notice that he was only like that when he was talking about things he actually wanted to. If they asked how he was doing, because it had only really been a week since it had happened, he would clam up and start semi-subtly shifting the conversation away.

He was avoiding his problems. And Marinette and Adrien really didn’t know what to do. He had stolen their unhealthy coping mechanism and now they were forced to stand back and watch as the kid destroyed himself the same way they did. And they knew it was a terrible coping mechanism, even Dick might have known it, but what were they supposed to do? They had been around much longer and they hadn’t found a better mechanism, what could they do for Dick?

He peeked an eye open and looked at the kid, who was chewing on the end of his pen as he thought through the question he was on.

… damn, he was actually going to have to learn how to cope, huh?

So, that afternoon, he passed Dick off to Marinette like a baton in a relay race and took a bus to the bookstore.

The psychology section was huge and filled to the brim with case studies. It was honestly daunting to look at. Instead, he made his way to the clerk.

The woman looked him up and down once. “Rough week?”

“You have no idea,” he muttered. “Can I have some recommendations for books on adoption, parenting, and coping with trauma? And also a highlighter, that would probably help.”

He skimmed through the parenting and adoption books. He and Marinette had already done this a few years back when they had first been considering kids, he was mostly just getting a refresher.

And then he turned to the five books on coping mechanisms he’d bought.

He took a deep breath and started looking methodically reading his way through it, highlighter in hand.

The next day, he found Dick, who was drumming his fingers on the table as he glared at the textbook in front of him.

Adrien had some suspicions about the kid in front of him, though he wasn’t absolutely sure yet. Still, he figured he should test his theory.

Besides, it would also help keep the kid safe and physical activity was one of the things a book on coping mechanisms had suggested.

Multi-tasking!

Or maybe it was just efficiency…

Whatever!

He smiled. “Hey, kid, want to try something different for today’s lesson?”

Dick looked up, frowning. “Like what?”

“Well… how do you feel about learning self-defense?”

~

“Where are you going?” Asked Dick with a tiny frown as she started bustling around the living room in search of her shoes.

“Uh… work!” She said.

They’d both agreed that telling Dick that she was going to go do the exact job his parents had just died in was a terrible idea, so they’d thought up a cover story… too bad she couldn’t think of it at the moment. She finally saw her shoes tucked under the couch and dove down to grab them, then sent her kid a smile.

“Have a good day, sweetie, I’ll see you later,” she said, walking over and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

She ducked out the door and started running all over again. Her eyes found their way to her watch. It was a tryout and she was going to be late…

But she wasn’t.

Barely.

She stumbled inside with one minute to spare, panting, and it took everything in her not to slump over the nearest bench and die.

“Hi,” she wheezed at Haly, who raised his eyebrows slightly at her.

“You’re really cutting it close, here. Have anything to say for yourself?”

She rested a hand over her heart as if that would somehow bring it back to normal. “I need a fucking car.”

Haly paused, then nodded. “That explains that. I’ll let you off with a warning that you should try not to be late again.”

“Oka --.” She stopped, and then looked at him. “I got the job?”

He shrugged and pointed around at the empty tent. “You’re the only one here.”

Wow. She’d suspected that people would be less than eager to take the job offer, but to be the only person…

Well, she figured that she should just be thankful. That made things much easier.

She smiled faintly. “Cool. Should I still show you my skills and everything?”

He motioned to the trapeze. There was a net under it. The man had learned his lesson, at least. “Please.”

It turns out that being Ladybug is really helpful when you want to be a trapeze artist.

Actually, she found that being a trapeze artist was actually easier in some ways. Instead of having to hold tight to one thin string when swinging around, she was able to get a proper grip on a bar.

It was a lot of fun. Recently, she’d been using her cane more. Having a yoyo was impractical as a weapon when people were firing guns, so she’d more or less stopped using it. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel the wind in her hair. It was calming...

Also, she got to show off, which was always fun.

She stopped after a few minor tricks and gave a bow to Haly, who seemed to just be glad that she actually had an idea of what she was doing.

“You’ll need about a month of training before you do any shows. Do you have any other expertise?”

She shook her head. It was a lie, she would probably be good with aerial silks or contortionism, but she felt some weird need to do the trapeze…

Just then, her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it and read the news headline.

She groaned and turned to Haly. “Can I have a minute? I need to take this.”

The man nodded.

She scowled as she stepped out and dialled a number.

“NYGMA.”

“Ladybug!” Riddler said cheerfully. She could hear a woman sobbing in the background. “What’s up? Did you see the news?”

“Yes, I saw. I’m at a job interview!”

The smile in the man’s voice disappeared as he spoke next: “Oh, I’m sorry. I can reschedule the death trap.”

“YOU CAN, CAN YOU?”

“Yep! How does tomorrow sound?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to relax. “I can do tomorrow. Thank you. And let go of the poor lady, will you?”

“Fiiiiine.”

She hung up on him and then stepped back inside, giving Haly her brightest smile.

“I can start working in two days, if that sounds good to you.”

~

Adrien hesitated.

Really, he should be getting Marinette to train Dick on self-defense. They had similar movement styles…

But his hunch had been right. This kid seemed to learn a lot better when he was multitasking and, as much as he loved his wife, he didn’t think her English was good enough to teach someone else.

And, besides, he wanted to spend time with his kid, dang it!

He stopped Dick before he could throw another punch at the dummy to fix his form. “I know putting power into it is hard when you’re so little, but you need to rotate your hips so you can get at least some kind of force behind it.”

The kid pouted. “But this is so boooooooring. It’s just the same thing over and over again! I want to do cool stuff!”

“Not yet. You have to understand the basics before you start messing with it.”

Dick gave another pout, this time adding puppy-dog eyes, but, unfortunately for him, Adrien had never been fond of dogs. He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

The kid groaned and started punching the pads again.

“I before E, except after C, or when sounding like A, as in neighbor and…”

~

It didn’t take long for Marinette to notice The Guy.

She had a pretty good vantage point from the ladder to her trapeze. She would stop at the top, her hands up in a salute, and pause for ‘dramatic effect’.

Her eyes flicked over the crowd and locked on the face of The Guy.

He was at every show, his face pulled into a bored frown as he rested his head on his hand. He’d sit there the whole time, watching the same performance over and over again, and then leave the moment the show was over.

She pursed her lips for half a second before bringing her face back to its smile.

She’d brought a camera this time. This time she’d be able to get his face so she and Adrien could get information on him.

But, for now, she concentrated on making the first jump to the trapeze…

She sat down after her act, still breathing heavily. She was in shape… but, kwami, that kind of stuff is hard! Still, she couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t been challenged in a while. It was kind of fun.

She wondered, vaguely, if this was what she’d be doing if she hadn’t gone back into crime fighting.

Marinette pushed that thought from her head as she downed her water. It wasn’t the time. She only had a few more minutes before she was on again for the outro. She needed the picture now.

She grabbed her camera from her locker and snuck her way to the stands, and pointed her camera --.

The Guy had spotted her. He looked directly at her camera, his face set in an even deeper frown than usual.

She quickly snapped the picture, then darted back behind the curtain. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Shit! Shitshitshit --!

Okay. Breathe.

He wasn’t going to just kill her. If the way they’d offed the Graysons was any indication, they didn’t want to draw too much attention to the circus. It was unfortunate what had happened, but not suspicious. However, the trapeze was new and there was a net. An accident like that couldn’t happen again.

No, they’d probably wait until after the show. That would be fine. She could deal with that. At least then she could stall until she had energy by waiting with someone.

She felt a hand tap her shoulder and looked over at the contortionist. “Time?”

“Time,” he said simply.

She hid the camera and ran out with him, smiling like she wasn’t about to face off with a mobster.

Two hours later, she stepped into her train car and crossed her arms over her chest. “Right, I know you’re in here,” she said quietly.

Or, at least, she hoped so. Because otherwise she would be looking a little silly --.

Wait, a knife pressed to her neck. Maybe she wished she was wrong.

She clicked her tongue and leaned into her attacker, closing her eyes. “You Americans still say ‘yo’, right?”

The Guy tensed a little under her, and then whispered a confused, “No…?”

She huffed. “Damn. Why do you change your greetings so often? Whatever. Kaalki, a little help would be nice.”

“Who --?” Began The Guy, but he was quickly cut off.

Because a portal opened under them and dumped them into a back alley in Gotham.

Marinette grinned and grabbed his arm, using his confusion to lean forward and flip him over her shoulder. He cursed as his back hit the ground and the blade clattered to the floor.

She grabbed it nonchalantly and her eyes flicked over the hilt.

A name was engraved there.

Zucco.

“You mob people make this too easy. Now, tell me everything you know.”

He glared up at her. “They’ll kill me!”

“And what gave you the impression that I wouldn’t?” She twirled the knife in her fingers. “Quickly, please, I have a kid to get back to.”

A half hour later, he had spilled everything he knew.

And his guts…

She rolled off of him and glanced at the bloodied dagger in her hand. Her nose scrunched up as she dropped it beside him. There. Now it looked like a mob hit.

She pushed herself to her feet and dusted herself off, only to groan at the sight of the blood staining her front.

She gave the corpse a kick as she cursed him out:

“Asshole. I liked these clothes!”

~

He smiled as he pulled his wife into his side.

Dick had finally gone to bed, so it was just them two. For once.

Marinette had a show in an hour that she needed to portal back for, and Adrien needed to go out as Chat Noir soon, but they didn’t want to get up just yet.

She yawned and curled closer to him. “I guess…” She yawned again. “I guess I should tell you what I found out. Which is basically nothing. Apparently, hardly anyone has ever seen Zucco in person, just the higher ups. He just sends people to do his bidding.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. “Great. Did you at least give the sample to Nygma when you saw him yesterday?”

“Obviously.” Her watch beeped and she mumbled a curse. “Alright, I have to go.”

“Nooooooo.”

“Yeeees,” she said, gently pushing his chest until he let go. She stretched out a bit and then walked to the bedroom door.

It swung open before she even touched the knob.

Dick was standing in the doorway, hugging a Chat Noir doll to his chest. “I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you guys?”

Marinette glanced at her watch and then at the kid and then at her watch again.

“Or are you guys both going out again?”

Adrien winced. “You noticed that?”

“It’s, like, every night,” he said irritably. He sighed and wiped his eyes a little bit. “Fine. I’ll just go lay down again.”

She bit her lip and then leaned down to look him in the eyes. “I’ll be back in four hours, okay, sweetie? Can you handle that?”

Dick looked at the ground. “Sure.”

Marinette grimaced. “I’m sorry.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

They could hear the coatrack hit the ground in her hurry to grab her jacket and get out the door.

Adrien sighed and looked at Dick, who was still standing in the doorway.

He really should be going on patrol. The people of Gotham had begun to notice that Chat Noir and Ladybug had been showing up less frequently. Crime rates were rising…

He laid back in bed and opened his arms. “I won’t leave. Come here.”

Dick gave a tiny smile, though it seemed a little forced. Still, he got into bed and curled up in Adrien’s arms.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He tried.

“No.”

He sighed. “You’re going to have to talk about it, eventually. Avoiding it is just going to make it harder to deal with later.”

“Nope.”

He gave a tiny laugh. Dang. This kid really was just them but younger. Now all he needed was a miraculous and he’d be a perfect mini version of them…

“Where do you guys even go?” Asked Dick, his voice muffled in Adrien’s chest.

“Work,” he said after a few minutes’ deliberation.

“I thought you didn’t really have jobs.”

He laughed quietly. “Marinette has a million jobs, and I have my one. Though we don’t really get paid for what we do most of the time.”

“Why do you do it, then?”

Adrien raised his eyebrows slightly, then gave a tiny shrug. “Why did you do the trapeze?”

He’d meant for it to be a rhetorical question, meant for it to be something that would make Dick change the subject, so it was a complete surprise when the kid whispered: “It was all that I knew.”

Internally, he was screaming. It was happening! Finally! He had opened up a little bit!

Externally, he nodded and rubbed circles into the kid’s back. “Hopefully, we can make it so it’s not all you know. Help you branch out a little bit while you’re here.”

He felt tiny hands clutch the back of his shirt. “Can’t do that when you’re always gone.”

“I know,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

They stayed in silence for a long time. Adrien was pretty sure that Dick had fallen asleep, but he wasn’t going to move. The kid had noticed that they were gone often, but the two of them had always made sure to wait until he had fallen asleep to leave. He had to be waking up at least once a night, so…

He held the kid close to his chest.

A few hours later, the door creaked open.

Adrien opened an eye blearily and saw Marinette get into bed. He lifted an arm for Marinette to join the cuddle and smiled faintly when she actually did.

He let himself drift off.

~

A few days later, Marinette and Adrien came back from patrols to find Dick talking to the kwamis. All of them gave sounds of surprise when they saw the two vigilantes in the door and disappeared except for Trixx, who turned and fixed their purple eyes on them.

Marinette pursed her lips tightly for a second, considering what to say, and then decided on: “What the fuck, guys?”

Adrien removed his arm from around her waist so he could bury his face in his hands.

Trixx smiled. “It’s not what it looks like. He found us.”

“He…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “So… you’re telling me that this kid pushed our bed aside, pulled up the exact right floorboard, and pulled out the miracle box...”

“... yes.”

“Forgive me for being skeptical, but I’m not buying it.”

Dick pouted and hugged the tiny fox to his chest. “Are you mad at her?”

Marinette hesitated.

Before Dick had known about the kwamis, they had a chance of giving him back. They would have been able to find better parents for him, been able to give him a genuinely good life. But now… they couldn’t risk giving him up. The reason they’d taken him in in the first place was that he was relatively loose-lipped. Now that he knew something so important, there was no way in hell that they could risk him ever telling anyone.

Of course, she doubted they would have been able to give up Dick anyways. She’d grown annoyingly attached to the kid, he was sweet and generally made her life a little more fun, but now there wasn’t an option at all.

Still, this part of their lives… beyond needing to keep things a secret, it was extremely dangerous to involve a kid in this kind of thing.

Adrien answered first: “No, we’re not mad. Just… this wasn’t exactly the plan.”

“And what was the plan? Never telling me that we have a bunch of… what did they call themselves? Kwamis? Whatever, they’re gods. There are just gods living in our house!”

Marinette shrugged. “We weren’t telling you because we didn’t want you to get dragged into this part of our lives, sweetie.”

Dick huffed. “And are there any other secrets that I should know about?”

“They’re Ladybug and Chat Noir,” supplied Trixx.

“TRIXX?!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE CHAT NOIR AND LADYBUG?!”

The fox kwami laughed and disappeared.

Marinette scowled. “I know you’re still here, Trixx, where are you? I will hunt you.”

“Please, Mari, you don’t need to do that. Just get the fox miraculous and summon her here, it’s much easier.”

“Smart.”

“WHY HAVE YOU STILL NOT DENIED IT?!”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other awkwardly.

Well… the secret was out.

She opened her purse and he opened his jacket, and their kwamis slowly poked their heads out to look at Dick.

Poor kid was not prepared.

He covered his eyes with his hands and took a few deep breaths. “So… I… wow…”

Well, she supposed there could be worse reactions.

“Wait, so are you investigating what happened with my parents?”

Like that. That was a worse reaction. Fuck.

Marinette carefully took a seat on the floor by her kid. Adrien sat down as well.

“We’re working on it,” she said carefully. “I’m following a lead and I got help from a… an associate of ours.”

Adrien nodded. “It will take a while. It’s just the two of us -- and Nygma, I guess -- so it’s not going to be done quickly.”

Dick removed his hands from his eyes and looked at them both. “I want to help.”

“No,” said both adults instantly.

“But --.”

“Nope,” said Marinette.

“I --.”

Adrien held up his hands. “Not allowed.”

Dick pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not? They’re my parents.”

Marinette shook her head slowly. “It has nothing to do with that. You’re a kid, we can’t just let you fight crime.”

“Oh? And when did you start fighting crime?”

“Eighteen,” said Marinette, which technically wasn’t a lie…

Which means it was unfortunate that Adrien gave a more accurate answer: “I was twelve, she was thirteen.”

She groaned and rested her head in her hands. “Damn it, Adrien.”

“So, when I’m twelve, can I join you guys?”

Marinette pursed her lips tightly. She didn’t want to be a hypocrite, but she also didn’t want to let an actual kid fight crime. She had fought crime as a kid, it had messed her up. She wasn’t eager to pass that on to someone else…

But…

“Fine. How about this: if we don’t solve it by the time you’re twelve you can join us for that case specifically.”

Dick pouted a little, but seemed to understand. “Okay.”

She and Adrien met eyes. They had three years to solve this case before Dick would get involved, and they couldn’t let that happen.

But it was three years.

How hard could it be?

~

He and Marinette sat on the floor in front of the miracle box, sorting the miraculi into two different piles: ‘Will Protect’ and ‘Can’t Protect’.

Once that was done, they started sifting through the ‘Will Protect’ pile.

“Turtle?” Marinette said.

Adrien shook his head. “Doesn’t fit his fighting style. Bee?”

She shuddered. “Don’t need another Chloe. Snake?”

They tipped their heads from side to side as they considered it, but then Trixx piped up: “I’m right here, y’know.”

The two vigilantes jumped out of their skin. Then they glared at the kwami.

“Must you always sneak up on us?”

“Yes. Anyways, I’m the best fit for the kid and you know it.”

Marinette pursed her lips. Adrien raised his eyebrows.

It was true. From the moment they’d started considering giving Dick a miraculous (because, even if they doubted he was ever going to get to that point, they figured they should at least make sure he was safe), they’d both been eyeing the fox miraculous…

Thing was…

“You’re just going to tell him more of our secrets,” he complained, sighing.

Trixx crossed their paws over their chest. “Do you really have any other secrets you care about?”

They considered this for a minute, before Marinette clicked her tongue.

“Fine. Fine! Adrien, you’ll need to train him on his powers, your secondary powers are closer than mine. I’ll take up sparring to teach him a fight style that better matches his circus training.”

Adrien pouted and fell back until his head hit her lap. “You don’t think I was teaching him well enough? Because our fight styles and training were completely different? I’m wounded, M’lady. I’ll never recover.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He smiled. “I’ve been cured.”

She clicked her tongue.

Adrien smiled…

And then her watch beeped. He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her stomach. “Nooooo, don’t gooooooooooo.”

“I can’t just not go, Chaton.”

“Why nooooot? It would be so easy.”

She slowly peeled his arms off of her, smiling fondly. “Relax. I’ll be back later. Hang out with… with Di --... Nope. With the kid. Maybe train him a little in his powers or whatever.”

He laid on the floor with a pout as he watched her leave, and then looked down at the necklace in his hands.

Well, he supposed he might as well. What else could he do? Protect the city? Nah.

He walked to his kid’s room and rolled his eyes when he saw the kid standing with his ear pressed to the wall.

“Hello?”

Dick’s face reddened and he turned to Adrien with a bright smile. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Wow, he really was a good fit for Trixx.

He sighed and offered the necklace. “You’re not in trouble. C’mon, we’re going to teach you to use these powers.”

Trixx floated over to rest on Dick’s shoulder and Adrien waved him along to the training room.

Adrien held up a hand before walking to the window and quickly shutting the curtains.

He smiled as the kid transformed.

Adrien stretched lazily. “Right, on your back right now is a flute. It… works like a flute. You can play music with it if you want, and also hit people with it if you want. It also summons your power.”

Dick nodded and pulled it off his back. “What can I do?”

“You play a note and envision an illusion of some sort. The limit is just your imagination.”

“Like a Green Lantern?”

“I… kind of. You just have illusions, if you touch them they disappear.”

“That sucks.”

“I guess. Alright, so you’re probably going to have side-effects.”

He watched the kid’s eyes widen and rushed to explain: “It usually isn’t bad. Just weird. It’s why I like to sit on counters and why Mari’s always so cold. It also changes looks a little. Like… Mari has a lot more white in her eyes and my hair has those two little tufts that I have to gel down.”

Dick’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Okay. So… powers.”

“Yep.”

He pulled out his flute.

Adrien smiled. “Right, let’s start simple. The main thing you need is a clear vision. I’m going to close my eyes and you’re going to make something appear in the room. If you’re doing it right then it should appear real, if not then we’ll figure out what’s going wrong.”

He closed his eyes and waited for a few seconds after he heard the shrill note of the flute. Then he opened his eyes.

And came face to face with a giant, bright pink inflatable elephant.

“I…”

Dick grinned. “Think we should address the elephant in the room?”

He blinked once, then broke into a matching grin. “You’re what’s been missing from my life. Oh my kwami. That was beautiful.”

Then he actually went to inspect the elephant. It was pretty good. The lighting was a little off but it wasn’t plainly obvious it was fake, if he wasn’t paying attention he doubted he would’ve noticed. That made sense. Powers were usually pretty instinctual.

He nodded slowly. “Now try something that makes sound.”

Dick brought the flute to his lips and played another note.

He had expected the elephant to disappear and get replaced by something. Instead, it let out a high whine as the air in it slipped out of a new gash on its side.

Adrien smiled.

“Nice.” He sighed and let his smile lessen. Now for the reason they had thought the fox miraculous could be used for protection: “Okay. Make yourself disappear.”

He got a frown for that one. “Sorry?”

“It’s… you’re still a kid. You need to know how to cloak yourself so you don’t get hurt. We can’t really stop you from coming with us in an ethical way, but we need to at least make sure you’ll be okay if you come along.”

Dick frowned. “I thought you were going to let me help.”

“In three years. If we haven’t already solved this case yet. And if we think that you’re going to be able to handle it.”

“But --.”

“We were heroes at a young age. True. We weren’t ready for it, though, and we don’t want to screw up a kid in the same way we were screwed up. That’s the whole thing about having kids, we want you to have a better life than we did.”

The kid gave an annoyed expression before bringing his flute to his lips. With a shrill note, the annoyed face disappeared.

Adrien tipped his head from side to side as he considered this. He was pretty sure that he could sense something off, but he wasn’t sure if that was just his mind messing with him because he knew that Dick was there…

He walked towards where he’d last seen him to make sure and then stopped short when he realized what was off. His feet weren’t making any sound.

There wasn’t any sound at all, actually.

“You’ve done too much. You got rid of all sound, not just your own.”

Dick appeared, a grin on his face.

“This is boring. Can we make it into a game? Like hide-n-seek?”

Adrien hesitated, then shrugged. “Don’t see why not.” He brought his hands up to cover his eyes. “Thirty… twenty-nine…”

~

She hummed absently as she and Dick stretched to warm up.

She was a little jealous, if she was honest, he was way more flexible than she was even though he was out of practice and she wasn’t. She’d been stretching before this kid was even born. How dare he still be more flexible than her.

Still, she rolled to her feet and offered him a hand up.

Dick’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he did a backhandspring from the floor.

How the fuck?

But she wasn’t going to act like this was an amazing thing. She was already bitter enough about his flexibility, admitting that he was also better at gymnastics would be even worse.

Instead, she grinned. “Hey, kid, what should we call you?”

He thought for a minute, taking his flute out and twirling it in his hand like a baton. “Robin?”

“I…” She held up a finger to say ‘one minute’ and then pulled out her phone. After a quick google search to make sure they were talking about the same animal, she gave her kid a confused look. “You’re a fox.”

“Yes.”

“Robins are birds.”

“Yes.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She really didn’t know why she asked a kid who called himself ‘Dick’ to name himself. Really, she should have expected this.

Marinette shrugged to herself. “Fine. I’m just gonna keep calling you ‘sweetie’.”

“Okay!” He stopped twirling his flute and pointed it at Marinette. “So, you’re going to teach me to use my circus training for fighting?”

She sighed and pulled out her cane, leaning against it. “Right. I’ll need to check to see how well you know the basics, first, though.”

Dick groaned. “I’m ready. I feel like I’ve been ready for ages!”

“I know, I know, but I need to make sure, okay?”

He gave her an annoyed look.

Marinette pursed her lips tightly. “Okay. Fine.” She dropped her cane. “Spar with me.”

Dick’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yep. You’ll have first swing and I won't get a weapon.”

True to her word, she let him have the first swing. She dodged and grabbed his arm, then pressed her foot to the middle of his back. He hit the ground with a groan. She pulled the flute from his hand and sent him a tired glare.

“You got lucky,” said Dick, his voice muffled against the floor.

She pulled him back to his feet. “No, you’re a child and I’ve been fighting for years. Like pretty much everyone else you’re going to fight. Which means that we can’t rush your training, okay? You have years before we let you into the field, if we do, so…”

He brushed himself off with a bitter expression.

“Fine. We drill basics.”

~

Riddler grinned, spinning around in his chair.

“Ladybug and Chat Noi --.” He stopped short, his eyes widening as they spotted something behind them. “What the heck? You guys brought a kid to this?”

He glanced behind himself and cringed lightly. He reached out and gently pulled Dick behind himself a little. Nygma had never been one for random attacks, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to make sure that this kid was safe.

And why had they brought him?

Marinette clicked her tongue once in annoyance. “Hey, sweetie, show the nice man your powers for a second.”

Dick brought his flute to his lips. With one high note he was gone.

Yep. They were really regretting giving him that miraculous right about then. They hadn’t even realized that he was coming along until Adrien had missed a jump and realized that his bones hadn’t audibly cracked like they usually did when he messed up like that.

He reappeared with a fox-like grin playing across his thin lips.

(Or maybe they just thought it was fox-like because he was currently dressed as a fox. Who knows.)

Riddler considered this for a minute, then nodded. “I understand now.”

Adrien sighed. “Yep.”

Marinette pulled out her yoyo and summoned a coloring book and some crayons. Dick beamed and plopped down on the floor to color.

The parents smiled fondly at their kid and then turned to Riddler.

“Now, you have news?” Adrien said.

“Good news and bad news.”

The adults looked at each other and gave tiny shrugs.

“Good news first,” said Marinette.

“Good news is that there’s only one person who supplies that specific acid.”

Adrien’s eyebrows knit together. That sounded good, but…

“Bad news is that she’s pretty popular. Over two-hundred customers popular.”

Ah. There it was.

Marinette covered Dick’s ears so she could curse.

Adrien, however, shrugged. “Do you have a list of her customers?”

Riddler nodded slowly. “Of course. I’ll forward it to you guys.”

“Thanks for the help, Nygma. See you in a few months.” With that, Marinette picked up Dick and held him to her hip.

“I’ll get you with the next one!”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

Adrien gave an apologetic smile and a friendly wave as he hurried out after his wife.

~

Marinette hummed absently as she pulled her jacket on, then froze up when she heard a gun click behind her head.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

She pulled a smile to her face and held her hands up in a kind of surrender, then turned around.

Wow. This man looked exactly like how gangsters looked in movies. She probably would have laughed if he wasn’t pointing a gun at her.

And, even with the gun pointed at her, she had to suppress a smile.

“Who are you?” He asked.

She frowned. “Shouldn’t I be asking that of you, sir? You’re the one attacking the random trapeze artist.”

“You’ve killed every single man I’ve sent in here to make sure everything was going to plan.”

“Maybe you should’ve sent a woman. We apparently get the job done better.”

“Who. Are. You?”

“Marinette Agreste, but I’m sure you knew that. Otherwise you wouldn’t know that I’ve killed ‘every single man you’ve sent here’.”

He scowled. “That wasn’t what I was asking and you know it.”

“Do I? Maybe you should be clearer,” she said. “Or, you could just tell me your name and I promise I would be much more compliant.”

The man seemed to consider this for a minute, his face tinged red with annoyance. She tried to push down the twinge of satisfaction. Even if this wasn’t Zucco, he at least had to be pretty high up and was likely the person who had ordered the goons to kill Dick’s parents. This bitch deserved all the hell she gave him, in her not-so-humble opinion.

“Giovanni,” he said carefully.

She smiled. “See? Was that so hard? Now, who am I...? I don’t know. I sometimes fight people. What else is there to say?”

He didn’t seem amused. “Why are you killing all my men?”

“I wouldn’t have to if they didn’t notice me noticing them every time. It’s getting very annoying. Send less observant people.”

Her eyes caught Kaalki’s. The kwami was hiding in a duffel bag that had been left open and she gave a tiny shrug to say go.

The man gave a scream as a portal sliced his hand off.

Marinette hummed absently and leaned down to pick up the gun. She pried the hand off of the gun and tossed it aside.

“WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK --.”

“I know, I know, it hurts, but could you be quieter?” She rubbed the side of her head. “Right, I have a few questions about Zucco.”

“He’d kill m --.”

“Yes. Yes, he would. But maybe you should concern yourself less with him, who has already made up his mind about killing you, and more about me, who’s still mulling it over.”

An hour later she stepped out of the changing room, humming as she tossed the gun back over her shoulder lazily.

“Haly?” She yelled, and smiled when his head popped out from his train care.

He looked stunned for a moment before he pulled himself together. “Yes?”

“I’m quitting. It’s been fun, though!”

She bit her lip as she strode out into the night.

Well, if she wasn’t already on Zucco’s radar she definitely would be now.

Greeeeaaaat.

~

It’s hard to look into people when you’re on the run from the mob.

They’d done everything they could think of. Marinette had withdrawn everything from their accounts, Adrien had altered all their appearances, Dick had... come along.

And it turns out tracking down 237 people is hard or something. Who knew.

You have to:

Figure out whether or not the person you’re after has pseuds. In order to do this you have to track their income patterns. This requires pretty high tech stuff, which they were generally trying to avoid because of the whole ‘mob out to get them’ thing.

Then, if they do have pseuds, you have to find all their assets. Then you have to go and check every single safehouse to see if it is, in fact, Zucco or someone working for him. It’s not fun. Most people in the mob are trained to not tell secrets no matter what, and getting to the point where you can get that information is… time consuming.

And they didn’t have time.

They glared at the remaining names. Dick was turning twelve tomorrow. They hadn’t even realized it because time was getting fuzzy again, but then they had come home to him hanging upside down from one of the lights on the ceiling and chanting about how close his birthday was.

After checking to make sure their kid hadn’t somehow gotten high or drunk, because what the heck, they had flown into a panic about how much work they still had to do.

“What’re the ethics of killing all 92 people tonight?” She asked, leaning back against her husband as he clicked through files.

“Even if we could, I’d say it’s probably frowned upon.”

She groaned and closed her eyes, then opened them again to glare at the papers in front of her. “How much you wanna bet that the very first one we choose after the kid joins us is going to be the right one?”

“Knowing our luck? That’s definitely going to happen.”

She gave a bitter laugh before pushing herself back up. “I’m going to break into a bakery to make a cake.”

“Cupcakes. You know he’s going to want to spend the day out in the field looking for answers, we might as well have food we can travel with.”

She clicked her tongue but nodded.

He fell back on the bed and glared at the list. He should have said they started at eighteen...

~

Well, at least it hadn’t been the first person that they’d looked into with Dick.

It had been the second.

After… ‘interogating’ the guy they’d found, they’d been given the name of this cruise ship and where it often docked. Then Dick had given them all cover so they could sneak on undetected.

And now night had hit. The three of them sat, perched on a railing as they observed the goons below them.

She watched Adrien send a wave before disappearing to take out the captain and destroy anything that could be used to contact land.

She turned to the kid next to her and reached out to ruffle his hair. “Ready, sweetie?”

Dick gave a slightly nervous smile before pulling out his flute.

“You’re only allowed to get involved if I’m dying, remember?”

He nodded, though she got the feeling that the kid wasn’t listening. Or, rather, he was listening and just opting not to take the words to heart.

She clicked her tongue once. Then she began walking along the outer edges of the ship, Dick trailing along behind her. She twirled her yoyo absently. They needed to get to the private quarters, as she was pretty sure that Zucco wouldn’t be anywhere else (he sent people out to do all his work, there was no way he was doing any work on his ship).

Then she heard laughter.

She looked up and scowled at the three henchmen who were leaning over the side of the railing above them.

“Oh my god, Ladybug has a kid!”

Her yoyo came to a stop. “Hilarious, I know.”

“Kinda! I mean the most deadly vigilantes in the world have a little kid trailing around like a lost puppy! That’s so good!”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “Mhmm. Please, tell me more...”

“Gonna say ‘or else’? Or else what? You’re going to change our diapers?”

She nodded slowly, then turned to Dick. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. She opted to ignore the way the three roared with laughter above her at the action, instead concentrating on him.

“Sweetie, I want you to cover your eyes for a second, please. I’ll tell you when you can look again, okay?”

He nodded and brought his hands to his eyes.

She wheeled on the criminals, whose laughter was quickly dying.

“Oops,” said one of them, his voice so quiet she’d barely heard it.

But she did. And she fought off some laughter of her own. “‘Oops’ is right.”

Three minutes later, she smiled and pulled Dick’s hands away from his eyes.

“Hey, sweetie, how’re you feeling?”

He glanced behind her and she winced, expecting him to become horrified, but then he suddenly tossed his flute.

There was a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it made contact with the guy’s head and he fell over the side.

Marinette looked at Dick and gave him a tiny smile. He beamed in return.

“Thanks for the save.”

“No problem.”

She tossed her yoyo and recovered his flute for him, then took his hand. She led her kid through the ship.

~

When he caught up with them, Adrien smiled and rested a hand over the top of the kid’s head. “I found out where the private quarters are.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

The three of them went along in silence. Whenever they passed someone they’d casually knock them over the side. They might live that way.

But probably not.

Still, it was relatively easy.

They walked along the private quarters, poking their head in doors and then closing them.

Eventually, they came to the most grandiose-looking cabin. Really, they should have checked it first, but whatever. Marinette, Adrien, and Dick all gave each other wary looks before Adrien kicked the door open.

The poor guy had been asleep. Sucks.

Zucco looked up slowly and then gasped, reaching under his pillow and pulling out a gun.

Ah. Now that sucks for them.

Dick gave a high-pitched whine.

Marinette and Adrien instantly reached for Dick to push him behind them, only to stop short when their hands passed through clean air. They turned to look, confused expressions on their faces, only to find that the kid was gone.

Uh…

They frowned slightly and looked around. Their faces drained of color when they found their way back to where Zucco was.

Or, rather, had been. Because he was missing, too.

Marinette cursed beside him and Adrien felt like punching a wall. Dick hadn’t been making that noise because he was scared, he’d been making that noise because he’d been creating an illusion.

They had to stop Dick before he did something he would regret.

Their eyes searched the room desperately, their ears strained. There had to be something off. Dick and Zucco hadn’t left, Marinette and Adrien were covering too much of the door for both of them to squeeze past without the illusion breaking, so they were still in the cabin.

Marinette pursed her lips tightly and pulled the door shut, then lopped off the doorknob with her yoyo.

Adrien nodded and they began to shuffle through the room.

It was needlessly huge, but there was a lot of stuff in it. A bed, a mostly untouched kitchen area, a bathroom with a jacuzzi, a possibly real treasure chest, a vanity…

He knocked his staff against things absently. It should reveal illusions…

Where was this kid?

He kicked some jewelry on the floor in irritation and then blinked when they hit the wall nearby without a sound.

Wait a minute…

He swung his staff in a large circle around him and couldn’t help but wince when he hit something that he couldn’t see. The illusion shattered and Dick groaned in pain as he stumbled off of Zucco, holding his side where Adrien had hit him.

But, for once, Adrien wasn’t looking at the kid. His eyes found their way to the floor, where Zucco had curled up. He was beaten and bloody, bruises starting to form on his pale skin.

“Robin…” He whispered, looking at Dick.

Dick was crying, the blunt end of his flute bloodied.

Adrien walked over and carefully pulled the flute from his hands and then drew him into his chest. “You can’t kill him.”

“But --!”

“No buts.” Marinette gave Zucco a kick to the head to make sure he was down before joining the hug.

“But you kill people!”

“And we’re also adults. When you’re an adult you can kill people, too.”

“M’lady…”

She winced a little. “Yeah, I hear it. But… anyways, sweetie, we can’t let a kid kill anyone. Killing… it messes with you. We don’t want that life for you.”

Adrien sighed. “You’re a kid. You can’t kill someone, it’s not good for your psyche. Leave that kind of thing to us.”

Dick took a shaky breath, and then nodded.

They’d been right to not want to include him in this. Vigilantism wasn’t healthy for kids.

And they especially shouldn’t have brought Dick along for this part, they should have expected that something like this would happen. He was too close to the case.

He swallowed thickly and hugged him closer.

Marinette pulled away carefully. She hummed, grabbing Zucco by the back of his nightshirt and dragging him away.

He gently rubbed circle’s into the kid’s back. “You want some ice cream? I think there’s still some at home…”

Dick giggled a little. “That ice cream is so expired.”

“You don’t know that!”

“It’s been, like, three years.”

Adrien sighed. “Okay, maybe, but hush.”

He pulled away slightly from the kid and wiped some stray tears from his cheeks.

“Want to go home anyways?”

Dick smiled faintly and nodded.

~

She dropped back on the bed and smiled as she curled in the blankets. The night had been… interesting… but at least she was home now.

She felt tiny hands wrap around her and her smile widened as she felt a face bury itself in her stomach.

But then her smile lessened. She slowly combed her fingers through the kid’s hair.

“I need your miraculous back, sweetie.”

“No. I want to keep doing it.”

She gave Adrien a pleading look and he sighed, slipping into bed and wrapping his arms around them. “She’s right. We don’t want —.”

“And what about what I want?”

It definitely wasn’t an angle they’d considered. They’d been very concerned about the kid ending up like them (they had given up on trying to fix themselves a long time ago, but they were still self aware of the fact that they didn’t cope healthily). But… what if they were too late? The kid had already been exhibiting signs of their bad coping mechanisms, had been since the start, had they accidentally encouraged it just by being around him?

She didn’t know.

What she did know, though, was that they’d messed up by letting him come along. He’d had a taste of the adrenaline, and there was no going back.

She flinched. “I… are you sure?”

Dick nodded against her stomach. “I want to help people.”

She bit her lip. Dick was one of those kids that would sneak out and do it anyways, the least they could do was make sure he was safe.

Adrien seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he sighed again and squeezed them both tighter.

“As long as you make sure to always be with one of us while you’re doing vigilante work…” he said reluctantly.

“I can do that.”

Oh, thank kwami. 

She smiled and ruffled his hair. “I guess it would be kind of cool to have a whole family of vigilantes...”

~~~

As it turns out, I am unable to write pure fluff. It eludes me.

On the other hand, I managed a Christmas update!! Go me!!

~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Decay: part II

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: this talks about alcoholism, implications of sex, mentions of technical assault (Jessie kissed Warren while he was drunk and she made him think she was Mother Nature!), also we get into Warren’s backstory a bit. I’m not trying to make anyone out to be a villain, but the story overall is much more upsetting than usual.

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! Not exactly the mood needed right now— I am very sorry, but I’m working on a much happier piece for Mother Nature and Warren! I’ll try to have it out before the end of the month!

Part 1 if you need a refresher!

Warren didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened. He wanted to pretend it never happened. To just hole up the memory of the night deep into his mind. He always hid and pushed away trauma. Why should this be any different?

His friends wanted to get Alex or maybe even Charles involved, but he protested. 

“It’s my word against her’s.” 

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to support you, and Jean and Charles are telepathic—”

“What can I really do? Press charges? If I do that then and use Jean or Charles to back me up, it becomes a whole mutant’s rights issue. It’s not worth it.” 

(Y/N) hated seeing Warren look so defeated. Jessie going about Xavier’s unscathed by everyone who wasn’t close with Warren, and him thinking it was his fault. 

(Y/N) had said she must have eaten something bad at the Halloween party, causing her to feel sick and sprout poison ivy. Also why all the plants died. 

If Hank and Charles could tell she was lying, they didn’t say anything. 

Rumors started amongst students about what had happened at the party— if Warren had actually cheated on (Y/N), if he did something to Jessie, or if Jessie forced herself onto him. 

Warren didn’t like the rumors involving (Y/N) in the mess. He didn’t like the stares and whispers they got when people saw them together. 

“Poor girl, staying with him even after he cheated.”

“Maybe she’s too naive to realize.”

“I knew they’d never work out— (Y/N)’s too good for him.”

“I bet he forced her into going out with him.” 

“I mean… he’s not ugly—”

“Yeah, but he’s not a good person and (Y/N) is!”

It made him sick to his stomach. Warren didn’t force her into anything— and he thought he had changed, that people were finally trusting him. 

Guess he was wrong.

—

Warren wasn’t even paying attention in his environmental sciences class. They were watching a video on how a plant species can be invasive, required to take notes on it. 

Warren was texting (Y/N), phone brightness turned down all the way. He just wanted to go to bed for a while and ignore the real world.

When the bell rang, dismissing students, Alex told everyone they’d finish the video, next class. 

Warren got up to leave, but Alex stopped him. 

“You doing alright?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He lied. “I’m not in trouble am I?” 

Alex hesitated to answer. 

“No.”

Warren nodded, noticeably nervous. 

“There’s a rumor going around saying you assaulted Jessie Rowe.”

Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. “I didn’t.”

“Okay… But something happened, didn’t it?” 

Warren didn’t respond.

“Warren, you have to tell me what happened.” 

“I got tipsy and she kissed me. I thought she was (Y/N), but then (Y/N) walked in and Jessie tried to act like I tried to kiss her.”

 Warren’s eyes were pleading— pleading for Alex to not get mad at him for drinking, or mad at him for not speaking sooner. 

“Um, no one got hurt, and now there’s just a rumor going around, so you can like, give me detention for drinking or whatever it’s fine—”

 “I’m going to have to tell Professor Xavier,” Alex told him. 

“Please don’t tell him I was drinking! I can’t— I won’t—”

Alex could see the desperation in his eyes. Warren had nowhere else to go. He, like many other students, depended on Xaiver’s entirely.  

“You’re a good kid Warren— you’ve opened up to others, you were sober for almost six months, you have a good group of friends and even a girlfriend— Charles isn’t going to punish you. I just don’t want you to spiral down and lose all the progress you’ve made…” 

“I just,” Warren rubbed his eyes. “Don’t wanna make a big deal about it. I’d rather it just blows over. Everyone will eventually forget about it anyway.” 

“Are you aware of the rumors involving (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so, this involves her and Jessie. I know—” 

Alex and Warren turned their heads to the door. Someone was opening it. 

(Y/N) stepped inside. Warren hadn’t shown up to the library during their shared free period like he said he would, so she was worried about him. Plus, he hadn’t been doing too well since the Halloween party…. Neither of them had been. 

Her eyes were pink and purple— she was full of worry for her boyfriend. 

“Oh!” She gaped, soon as she saw Warren and Alex sitting at his desk, in the middle of what looked like an important conversation. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” She asked. 

“No. You can stay.” Warren told her. (Y/N) dragged a chair over and sat next to him.

“Right, as I was saying, Charles isn’t going to expel you, but he might want to make a police report. I’m not sure what good it will do, but—”

“I don’t want to. It’s not going to do anything but cause problems.” 

(Y/N) was immensely confused. She had no idea what they were talking about. 

“We’re gonna talk to Jessie, maybe a few of your friends, and knowing Charles, he won’t expel either of you. We’ll do everything we can to get the rumors to stop…” 

Oh! It finally clicked in her mind. 

It was about the party. 

“Okay… Thank— thank you, Alex.” 

“Yeah, we should go to Charles’s office— what class do you guys have next?” 

“I have lunch.”

“AP art.”

“That’s… Ms. Burnwood, right, (Y/N)?” 

She nodded.  

“I’ll make sure your absence is excused.” 

“Thanks.”

Alex took them up to Charles’s office. Warren then explained everything that happened, while trying to not get his friends in trouble for also drinking. 

Jessie was brought up to Charles’s office and questioned. She caved pretty easily, with (Y/N) glaring at her the whole time, and amid their telepathic principal, lying wouldn’t do her any good. 

Jessie was “grounded”— she couldn’t leave campus during the semester until after Thanksgiving break— she was also to stop encouraging the rumors, and had to talk with one of the school counselors once a week until they deemed it no longer necessary. Jessie’s parents weren’t in the picture, so notifying them wouldn’t do any good. 

Warren’s punishment was less severe, he couldn’t be out later than nine on weekends, (just until Thanksgiving break) and he was required to go to group therapy to help him deal with his former alcoholism and past traumas, for the rest of the school year.  

—

“You don’t have to tell me what goes on at group therapy.” (Y/N) told him. 

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to tell anyone.” 

Warren smiled a little, “I know.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) kisses his cheek. 

Warren wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I hope it goes well… it should.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah… Here,” Her hand was in a fist. When she opened it, she revealed a daisy and a four-leaf clover. 

“You don’t really need luck or anything but, um, I thought, you know—“ 

Warren accepted the small gift, taking it from her hand. “Thanks, baby. I love it.” 

—

Group therapy was awkward. Warren hated it. He knew it would be good to talk about… well, everything, probably, but he had a hard time opening up to total strangers. 

“Alright, in case you’re new or don’t remember, my name is Allison… We have a new member with us today, he’s going to be with us for a while.” Allison looked at Warren. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Okay… Um, my name is Warren.”  

Everyone replied with, “Hi, Warren.” 

“And um, I’m a mutant.” 

Allison smiled, “That’s great! Do you go flying a lot? 

“Uh, yeah.”

“What kind of metal are your wings made of?” A girl with washed-out blue hair asked.

“Titanium, I think.” 

“Well, Warren, welcome to the group,” Allison interjected, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Now, we’re going to do an ice breaker of sorts, and then just have like, regular conversation. We can all go around and say our favorite color and why.” 

Warren blinked. He didn’t— he didn’t have a favorite color. 

“And don’t say you don’t have a favorite color. If you can’t pick a favorite, choose one you hate the least… We can start with Trey.” 

Warren thought of color options—

Black?  No. Black wasn't his favorite, despite being 95% of his wardrobe. It absorbed the most light, helping him blend in with the darkness and look tough, something he needed in Germany. 

Blue— The color of Kurt— his roommate and friend, who he tried to kill. Twice. Something he still felt remorse over. And Apocalypse. The man who gave him the metal wings and tattoos, forcing him to aid in mass destruction, only to leave him for dead when he was no longer useful.

Red— the color of Alex’s plasma beams. And how the Horsemen were a result in him almost dying.

White and Silver— the colors of his wings. Past and present. How each reflected hardships from Warren’s life. How he hated them and a child and almost resorted back to that self-deprecation when they shifted into metal and the consequences finally sank in. 

But what about green? The color of healthy plants that thrive. The color of (Y/N)’s eyes when she’s happy.

Warren liked the color, despite (Y/N)’s eyes rarely being green around him. However, it didn’t mean she was unhappy with him.

Her eyes were pink around him. A way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it. The pink meant she cared about him more than most people— that she trusted him, accepted him for who he was despite his past, and that she would be there for him when he needed her. 

Not many people could say they would do those things for Warren, or that they had.

His father cared more about the family name and how his son couldn’t possibly be a freak. His mother didn’t want his wings to tarnish her image, and while she was still his mother, she left him on his own most of the time. 

And how all his past relationships and flings— they didn’t have much meaning. There was never any real affection behind them. They saw the cage fighting king and wanted a piece of that. 

(Y/N) looked past all of that. She saw how he responded to what life threw at him. She saw the tough guy act, the big softie, the broken boy who ran away in fear, the man who thought he wasn’t good enough— she brought out his good side, making him realize he deserved happiness, love, and a home, that when you hit rock bottom, you can only go up from there. 

He decided pink was his favorite color, because it showed someone cared for him in ways he wasn’t used to. He would do anything to keep it around forever.

“Warren, what’s your favorite color?” 

“Pink.” 

He got a few funny looks. They were probably expecting him to say black, based on his general aesthetic. 

“And why is that?”

“Um, it’s my girlfriend’s eye color… she’s also a mutant.” 

Allison smiled, “That’s very sweet.” 

She moved on to the next person, “Rose, what’s your favorite color?” 

She said, “Green.” But Warren wasn’t paying attention to why. 

The ice breaker eventually ended, and Allison shifted the discussion to other things. 

“Now Warren, since you’re new, usually new members spend most of their first meeting talking about themselves. Just so we can get to know you and whatnot.”

“Okay… um… anything specific you want to know?” 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

“Okay… So, I was born into a really small family. Just me, my mom, my father, and his brother. I don’t really know what happened to my grandparents. I never asked... 

When I was three we moved from Westminster to Centerport.”

“Where’s that located?”

“Oh, uh, Westminster’s close to London.” 

Allison looked impressed. 

“I went to a private all-boys school when I was little. I don’t remember the name of it though.” 

“Were you born with your wings?” Allison asked.

“No.” Warren responded. “They started to grow when I was eleven… I was terrified. I spent almost every day trying to rip them out… but once all the feathers are gone, you’re left with nothing but bone. It hurt like hell, but I used a pocket knife and a razor to try and cut them or at least file the bone down.” 

“It wasn’t hard… but it hurt a lot. I spent so much time worrying about my wings and if people would discover them, that I started to fall behind in school… I wasn’t like failing or anything, I had access to all kinds of tutors and everything, but my parents quickly found out I was falling behind. My father was barely aware, telling my mom to ‘deal with it.’ She tried her best, but I was so scared of them discovering my wings…”

   Warren sighed, “My parents had a beach house in Italy, and we were supposed to go there for my fall break. I was so terrified. I couldn’t go swimming, they’d see my wings… But I couldn’t find a way out of the trip. I was twelve at the time and my mom… She saw my back when I came out of the shower...”   

“She screamed, and my father came running to us. When he saw my back, he was disgusted. The look on his face was drilled into my skull for years. And it wasn’t even that bad, they were just growing back after being cut, so they weren’t even that big… but I just remember how scared my mom was, and how disgusted my father was… I just started crying and apologizing, but it didn’t do anything.” 

“We left our trip four days early and I was pulled out of school. My parents decided to homeschool me, which basically meant, cut all contact with everyone from school and have a few tutors come to the house.” 

“Did you have contact with anyone outside of your home?”

“I saw some family friends, and one or two kids of my parent’s friends… my parents hired countless doctors and all kinds of people, doing tests on me, trying to find a “cure”. Every time they failed my parents just got more upset— I was becoming a waste of time and money. They were becoming more distant and cold, wrapping themselves up in their work, and I was locked up.”

“What happened to your wings?”

“My mom said the scars they would leave were ugly, but I was forced to let them grow out.” 

“My parents were arguing a lot, always sad or angry… mostly because of my wings… I was getting tired, tired of hiding, tired of the arguing, I wanted it all to stop…”

“Can you please stop?” Warren thought he was going to cry. 

His father glared at him, disgusted by the wings, and how his son was on the verge of tears. 

Warren could hear his parents arguing from down the hall. That’s all they seemed to do when they were home— fight. 

Warren blamed himself. If he was just normal. If he didn’t have those damn wings!

He wanted them to stop. He’d do anything to make them stop. 

Warren thought about getting on to the roof and jumping. Not even flying down, just falling to his end. His end of suffering, and his loveless, lonely existence. 

“Are you going to do it?” 

Warren looked over his shoulder to find his father standing behind him. Watching him peer out the highest window in the house. 

“No! I— I’m sorry! I wasn’t—”

His father scoffed. “Did I raise a coward?”

Warren couldn’t look him in the eyes. “No sir.”

“I’ve scheduled for you to have spinal surgery next week. Your doctor is coming to prep and evaluate you for it. This surgery should fix you.”

Warren’s eyes were closed, trying not to imagine the pain, trying to not cry in front of his father. 

“Or you can fall out the window… in a freak accident.” 

“So I jumped out the window. I didn’t fall to my death as he had hoped, but I flew. I flew far away. I flew across the Atlantic for a few hours before I started to get tired. I spotted a ship and I got close. It was a fishing boat, a large one. The crew let me stay for the night until they went back to land… After that, I flew from São Miguel to Cascais. From there I just kind of fucked around Europe.” 

Warren sighed. Allison told him to take all the time he needed and he could stop if he wanted for the day. Let someone else talk. 

Warren nodded and kept quiet for the rest of the meeting. 

—

Alex picked him up when the meeting ended. Alex didn’t ask about the meeting. It wasn’t his business and he knew Warren would talk when he was ready. 

“Where do the others think I went?” Warren asked. 

“Training. They’re busy anyway, most didn’t notice you were gone.” 

Warren silently nodded. 

Alex pulled into Xavier’s garage, parking and letting Warren slip out and go up to his room. 

Warren kicked his shoes off and laid on his bed, putting in his earbuds and playing some soft songs. 

(Y/N) was heading up to Warren’s room to use his shower. She was covered in paint, for she helped clean up after the fourth graders used the art room. 

(Y/N) knocked on the door, making sure no one was there before she entered. 

Warren didn’t hear her and (Y/N) almost didn’t notice him laying on the bed. When she did, however, her entire demeanor changed. 

“Hi, Angel!” She went over to practically smother him in light kisses. 

Warren pulled out his earbuds and smiled. “Hi, Flower.”

“When did you get home?” She asked, scooting over to the open side of the bed. 

“Like ten minutes ago. What have you been up to?” 

“I got paint all over me,” (Y/N) frowned. “I was going to take a shower and wash it off.” 

“You can do that. I was just kind of laying here.” 

(Y/N) bit her lip, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

“If you disassociate your whole day will feel off. You should take a nice relaxing shower with me, instead.” 

Warren chuckled. 

“Not like that, Bird brain!” She exclaimed. “We can use one of my lush bath bombs and my rose-scented exfoliator.” 

“Are you saying I smell?” Warren joked. 

“Eh,” (Y/N) shrugged before slipping her bra off and throwing it in the hamper. 

Warren scoffed and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), peppering her neck in kisses. “How dare you!” He teased. 

“Ah!” (Y/N) laughed. Warren’s lips on her neck tickled her skin. “That’s why I’m going to bathe.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll join you.” 

(Y/N) hummed in victory, wiggling out of Warren’s grip, and headed into the bathroom to grab her stuff. 

The last time she used the girls’ communal showers was before they were even dating. (Y/N)’s toothbrush made its way into Warren and Kurt’s bathroom, then her shampoo and conditioner, and then eventually most of all her other hygiene products. 

(Y/N) set her soap and other things on the edge of the tub and drew up warm water, filling the bathtub up about halfway. 

She sprinkled in rose petals and got Warren into the bathroom. They both stripped off their clothes and stepped in the tub. A bit difficult, for Warren had to fold his wings back and get in first, with (Y/N) practically sitting in his lap, face to face, but they made do. 

(Y/N) dropped an orange bath bomb in the water and grabbed her jar of exfoliating scrub, rubbing it on her arms and legs to help remove the paint. 

Warren closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

“How’d it go today?” (Y/N) asked as she grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it onto her skin. 

He didn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry…” She murmured. 

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t terrible… I talked a little bit about my parents.” 

(Y/N) nodded as she applied her rose exfoliator onto Warren’s skin. 

“I’m really sorry…” Warren let out. He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. 

“Baby,” (Y/N) looked into his eyes. “it’s okay.” 

“I— I just—“ Warren hiccuped, letting out a choked sob and releasing some tears from his eyes. 

(Y/N) rubbed his back, avoiding the tender spot around his wings, whispering, “Let it out, it’s okay, Angel.” 

Warren silently cried into (Y/N)‘s shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him in comfort. The emotions he felt almost made him sick— love and affection— and a lot of it too. He couldn’t remember a time before when he felt like that. He never wanted to leave (Y/N)‘s embrace. 

Warren lifted his head up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Sorry— um—“ 

“It’s okay.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, leaving a kiss on each cheek. “Want me to wash your hair?” 

Warren nodded. 

“C’mere—” (Y/N) grabbed the shampoo from the bathtub ledge, pouring some in her hands, and then lathering it into Warren’s mop of curls. 

Her hands gently massaging his scalp felt like a touch of heaven to Warren. He didn’t want to cry again, but he couldn’t help himself.  (Y/N) was heartbroken at her boyfriend’s demeanor, but it was good he was letting it all out.  

She finished washing his hair and drained the tub— them both getting out— Warren holding onto (Y/N) as she gently dried them both off. 

“Thank you, He mumbled.

“Of course, Baby…”   

—

Most of their dates shifted to either being at the mansion or during the day. Warren felt bad, having to limit things for them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. 

“We can do more stuff during the day… And at night all our friends will be gone… We’ll be all alone…” (Y/N)’s tone was almost teasing. Warren had to chuckle to himself, she was doing her best to make the situation work.

His second group meeting was set a bit later in the day, around 6 pm on a Saturday. Warren told (Y/N) he probably wouldn’t be back until after dark. 

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be here—” She motioned to her empty bedroom. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” He teased.  

“You too, Baby.” 

Warren drove himself to his second group therapy meeting. Alex offered to drive again, but Warren felt bad having him taking time out of his day to drive him to group therapy. 

Not everyone who was at the first meeting was at the second one— but Warren saw some familiar faces. 

“Hey, Warren! Welcome back,” Allison greeted him. 

“Hi.” 

He took a seat near a guy in a grey hoodie with an eyebrow piercing. 

“Alright everyone, we’re going to go around, say our name, and if we have any pets. If you don’t that’s okay! You can say, what kind of animals you’re interested in. Let’s start with Collin…”

Warren zoned out for a bit until it was his turn. He didn’t have a pet, and he didn’t really have an interest in a specific animal. People made jokes about him being a bird, but he didn’t necessarily have a connection with them. 

“I don’t have a pet… My girlfriend has a lot of plants though…” 

“Ooo! What kind?” 

“Um… Almost all kinds— her mutation helps grow them and stuff…”

“That’s cool.” Someone commented.

Warren awkwardly nodded. The ice breaker continued around the circle, and when finished, Allison had some people give updates on how they had been since the last meeting, others talked about how they were feeling in general. 

“Warren—”

“Yeah?” He asked. 

“Do you want to continue talking from where you left off last week?”  

“I can, sure.” 

The floor was given to him, and Warren continued his “backstory”. 

“I ended up in Germany. Messing around, staying overnight on stranger’s couches. I tried to find work, but it was hard being almost 15 at this point and no papers… I ran into muggers and they tried to, well, rob me, but I fought back. I wasn’t very good but it got them off and away from me… I ended up in a bar… The last thing I remember was falling asleep and then waking up in a locker room of sorts. A bunch of men shouting in German, um, some in English, but basically I was told to go out into ‘the ring’. People were watching— shouting and cheering, for the other guy in the ring. He was kind of short and hairy, but he had these claws, and he could really kick ass. I barely made it out of there— I didn’t win— but I didn’t die. People enjoyed watching us. They cheered, calling him Wolve-something, and they called me, Angel.” 

“I wanted to leave, but the people running the ring gave me some money and I found a place to stay for the night… the job offers weren’t exactly lining up… so I agreed to more fights. I got really good, fighting other mutants, probably in the same situation as me, but I quickly realized, kill, or be killed…” 

Warren quickly realized people had very concerned looks on their faces. “I didn’t kill anyone! But I did beat them up pretty badly— the more fights I won the more money I got— and it was that or die… I did it for about two years before I met someone… 

I was alone at a bar, I was bruised and a bit bloody, and this girl with purple hair came up to me. She was one of the guards in the fight club— she worked for some guy named Caliban, I think. I don’t remember… Anyway, her name was Betsy. She said she’d been watching me for a while, saying my fighting was impressive but could be improved… Uh, She offered to help me out, and we went back to her place. She helped clean up the blood on me, and um, then we made out, and I spent the night… This went on for a while, she’d watch me fight and give me tips and pointers, and we’d make out and stuff…”   

“How long is, awhile?” Allison asked.

“Um, Like two-ish years? I don’t know— but um, we had this like thing going on, and I thought we were maybe dating? I dunno. But whatever we had I fucked up.”

Warren groaned as Betsy aggressively pressed her mouth against his. He had just won another fight and went back to her place to “celebrate”. 

“God, B… I love you...” 

 Betsy froze, her body tensing up. 

“What?”

Warren panicked, her face did not seem pleased. “It slipped out— I’m sorry—”

“No… You don’t mean it… We can’t be together.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I thought we were together.” 

“Angel— this isn’t a relationship— we just fuck while I give you some pointers on your punches.”

“I know this isn’t traditional, we don’t go out on dates—”

“You don’t love me! We’re too young— I’ll lose my job. I spend all this time one you so I don’t lose my job, you’re the best fighter—”

“You keep me trapped here?” Warren asked, slowly piecing things together. 

“It’s not like that—” She tried to explain. 

“I’ve tried to quit fighting for almost a year now! I told you I wanted to leave, and this whole time you’ve been keeping me here?” 

“You’re young and naive, and I’d lose my job, everything—” 

Warren stood up, ignoring Betsy’s excuses. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Away. Since we’re not together and I don’t love you.” Warren slammed the door behind him and headed back to the ring. He needed to let out his anger. 

—

Warren went on a winning streak— he won ten fights in a row— the feeling was borderline euphoric, the crowds cheering for their champion, Warren getting to sink someone’s teeth in or watch them fall to the ground. 

Warren was amped up for his eleventh fight— the announcer was talking about his next opponent— 

“The Incredible Nightcrawler!” 

A lanky, devil looking, blue boy fell out of a cage onto the floor of the ring. Warren circled him for a moment before meeting him on the ground. 

He wasn’t fighting, just teleporting around the cage in small bursts. 

“Fight!” Warren yelled at him. “Or they’ll kill us both!” 

The blue boy looked terrified, but he fought back when Warren attacked him. 

At one point he managed to drag Warren against the side of the electric cage, burning his wing. 

“Ah!” Warren cried out in pain. Suddenly he saw the blue devil escape from the bottom, so in a risky move, he flew up and ripped off the upper walls of the cage, and flew out. His flying was wonky and jagged for one of his wings was broken.

Warren had nowhere to go, so he went back to the one place he shouldn’t have— 

Betsy’s place. 

—

“I was drunk as shit and angry and this blue wrinkly man came with Betsy and some other girl I didn’t recognize, and he just held his hand out and metal grew out of my back and on top of my wings. I was healed, in a way, but also it kind of ruined my life. The blue man also just held his hand  out and gave me these tattoos…”

“You weren’t one of the horsemen with Apocalypse, were you? Like last spring I think… Out in Cario?” One girl in the circle asked.

“Yeah… Um, I never killed anyone, and I don’t do that anymore. The X-Men took me in and I’m trying to get my shit together.” 

“We don’t judge here, and from what I’ve heard, the X-Men do great things! Like the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man.” Others in the group murmured in agreement. 

“You’re built like a transformer dude,” The guy sitting next to him commented. 

“Thanks…” 

“I think you can do a lot of good, Warren. You’ve spent a lot of time running from your problems, but you seem like you’re grounded now… I was told you came here because you relapsed.”   

“It was an accident— I haven’t drank since.” 

“And that’s good! It can be really hard to open up and talk about your past, but you did it…”

Warren nodded along to what Allison said. 

“I think you can do even better if you acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them… and don’t be afraid, don’t push them into the back of your mind… I think— if you haven’t already— talk to your girlfriend about some of this. Doesn’t have to be a lot or all at once, but being open and honest does good in relationships.”

“Yeah, um, sounds good.” Warren’s heart fell into his stomach. He was terrified to talk about all of this with (Y/N).

She didn’t deserve the burden. (Y/N)  was this innocent, happy, light in his life. Warren didn’t want to ruin that. 

He thought (Y/N) was too good for him, and she would eventually realize that and leave him.  

But he trusted her. He trusted (Y/N) with his life. Perhaps a bit foolish, but he rarely ever felt sure about those types of things. He decided to trust his intuition.

—

Warren drove home in silence. 

He pulled into the garage and put the keys on the key rack before heading up to (Y/N)’s room. 

He didn’t even bother knocking on the door. He just walked right in and flopped onto the bed, in (Y/N)’s lap.

She was surprised, but she quickly came to her senses and tried to figure out what happened. 

“Baby?...” (Y/N) looked down at Warren’s face as she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. 

“I…” Warren burst into tears, all his bottled up emotions coming out at once. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Warren sat up and (Y/N) hugged him tightly. 

“I have… things… I want to tell you… about my past…” Warren scrunched his nose. 

“My parents and other stuff… but I’m scared.” He admitted.  

“Warren, baby, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me whatever you need to, whenever you feel ready, okay?” 

He slowly nodded, still crying. 

(Y/N) kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, being silent and supportive. 

“Can… Can you promise me… Promise me you won’t leave because of my past. I’ve done really bad shit and—” 

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.” She reassured him.  

Warren wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his tears slowing down.

“Thanks…” He mumbled.

“Of course, anything for you, Angel.” 

[hoe-doroki]

trust yourself

warning: eating disorder, food restricting, food withholding

pairing: Izuku x g/n!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 2.3k

a/n: This is the first of four attempts to answer this ask. This is a story with a reader who is food restricting, so everyone be careful to take care of yourselves! The other three attempts are Gratitude, A Start, and Picnic. All parts are unrelated to each other.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

“You’re home!”

You cocked your head at a damp Izuku, coming out of the bedroom you’d just recently started sharing, with a towel trying to work the drips out of his hair. His hair looked black fresh out of the shower and it would slowly grow back its green shine as it air dried. You’d watched it before, carded it between your fingers and held it up to the light to see it happen yourself.

“You’re home,” you replied, brows furrowed in confusion as you kicked off your shoes.

“Yeah, I was on the early shift today,” Izuku said, voice echoing as he popped across the hall to put the towel back in the bathroom. “Remember?”

He came over to kiss you on the cheek and you pressed your palm against your eye, trying to remember the conversation Izuku had had with you that morning while you’d still been half asleep, despite already being changed and out of bed. It came back to you slowly. Maybe he’d told you, but you couldn’t say for sure. You shook your head, pushing it away.

“Anyway, I was just about to order pick up from the place down the street. What do you want?”

“Ah, I’m really tired, Izu,” you said, walking past him to the bathroom. “I was just gonna brush my teeth and go to bed.”

Traffic had delayed your commute home from work, but it was only about 7pm and the sun was even set yet. But still, you hardly felt like you could stay upright another minute. You were probably securing a bleary-eyed awakening at 3am, but work had been stressful and you just wanted to end the day early. Cut your losses and see if tomorrow would shape up to be any better.

Izuku followed you to the doorway of the still steamy bathroom, watching as you washed your face, beginning your nighttime routine. “No dinner?”

You lifted your face an inch out of the porcelain. “I had a big lunch.”

“Still,” Izuku said, stepping in and handing you a washcloth. When you finished patting off the water, Izuku was staring at you. You withered under his analytical gaze. He put a hand to your face and brushed his thumb under your eye. You knew that the circles under your eyes had been especially dark lately, so you looked down and shifted your face out of his grasp. “Maybe your blood sugar’s low and that’s part of why you’re tired. You might feel better if you eat something.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, reaching for your moisturizer. “It’ll probably just make it harder to sleep.”

You didn’t want to see those big eye bags in the mirror, so you stared at your toothbrush, keeping an eye on what was next in your order or operations. You’d moisturize, brush your teeth, put on your pajamas, and then pass the heck out. Then it would be over.

“You don’t want…”

You glanced up at Izuku, whose eyes were widening, a hand flying halfway to his mouth as a light blush dusted his cheeks. And, just like that, you knew he was seeing straight through you. Izuku was just too good at putting things together. Suddenly, you felt so tired that you’d be happy to curl up on the bathmat and call it a day right there. You didn’t need the bed. Tile would suit you just fine.

“Babe,” he said hesitantly, putting a hand lightly on your arm. “You know I love everything about you, right?”

You nodded, the words not penetrating. You didn’t feel the butterflies you usually did when Izuku showed how sweet on you he was, and that made you feel a whole other kind of upset. “I love you too, Izu.”

He was watching you so closely and all you could do was long for the bath mat to rest on. You clenched and unclenched your fists, your grip feeling loose and bloodless as your thighs began to shake.

Izuku was against you in an instant, pulling you into his arms. You hated that you were making him worried. You hated that his hold didn’t stop the shaking. You hated that you wanted to pull away.

“Nothing could make me love you less, Y/N,” Izuku whispered in your ear, and your heart broke just enough to let that feeling in. You clung to him, fisting the back of his tee-shirt and focused on the feeling of his wet curls against your face.

“I don’t know why you would,” you whispered.

“Oh, I do,” Izuku replied quickly. “It’s because you’re smart, kind, compassionate, creative, beautiful, my friends and my mom all love you, and there’s no one else I’d rather come home to. If you let me grab my notebooks, I can list off even more reasons.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Just as well,” Izuku said. “There are too many reasons to list.”

He held you until the shaking stopped and you were able to relax just a little more into his touch.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Izuku said slowly. “I’m going to order some dinner, and you can help me finish it, how’s that? And we can just watch some TV. I know you’re tired, but I want to spend just a little time with you before bed, okay? I give you permission to fall asleep on the couch and I’ll carry you to bed.”

“Izuku,” you whined. “You always finish your food. You don’t need my help.”

“I don’t know,” Izuku said. “Sometimes I’m a little silly and order too much. And you know how much my mother hates waste. She’d be able to tell from her house that I didn’t eat everything and then she’ll rush over here and then we’ll never get to sleep.”

He was lying through his teeth and you knew it. Mama Midoriya would never do anything of the sort, even if she could. But you gave in anyway.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” Izuku agreed. “I’m going to order the food and you can change into your pajamas. Then we can pick out what to watch. But this,” Izuku snatched your toothbrush and held it in front of you with an impish grin, “is mine for now.”

Izuku ran off, leaving you reminded of the flavor of mirth. He didn’t quite have you laughing, but there was half a smile on your face as you heard him calling the takeout place. You meandered to your bedroom and took off your work clothes, sliding into the well-worn cottons and poly-blends of your pajamas. You eyed the bed, longing for it, but thought about the idea of snuggling up against Izuku on the couch. It was hard to imagine that you deserved it, but deep down you knew the idea was sweeter than that of curling in on yourself in bed, alone, hours before Izuku would join you.

“Done,” Izuku said, holding up the phone as he leaned his head into the room. When he caught sight of you, his face bloomed into a soft smile at the sight of you in your pjs. He came over, putting his hands on your biceps, and pressed his mouth to your neck. “Mm, love you a lot. Let’s choose what we wanna watch.”

You followed him back out to the living room and sat together on the couch. He pulled you close to him, and you couldn’t help but snuggle up. He was so warm and you felt cold all over.

“Do you want to choose?” he asked, offering you the remote.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to have to make a decision.

“Okay,” Izuku said as he began clicking through thumbnails of shows.

For someone with such good reflexes, trained in making quick, high stakes choices, Izuku was just as bad as you were at choosing a television program to color the background. Eventually, he settled on a cartoon that you liked—he was probably aiming for a comfort pick.

Izuku then pushed off the couch. “I’m going to go pick up the food now,” he said. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Could you grab us some water and chopsticks?”

“Alright,” you said, allowing Izuku to help you off the couch. You tried not to show on your face the head rush you felt just from that simple exertion. You must have hidden it well enough, because the next moment, Izuku had grabbed his keys and wallet and was out the door.

You sluggishly made for the kitchen, opening the cabinets and grabbing two glasses, filling them up. You brought them to the coffee table and returned to the kitchen for chopsticks. You stared at the drawer, looking at all the different options. Stainless steel, bamboo, pretty ones painted with cherry blossoms. You were tempted to grab only one pair, but you went ahead with two. Two pairs of chopsticks was something you could do.

By the time you were done, settling on the floor leaning against the couch instead of on it, Izuku was back. His muscles were glowing faintly, red streaks fading away as he kicked off his shoes. His hair was totally dry now, fresh from having used One For All to dash to the restaurant and back. The only reason he’d been gone for the couple minutes he had was because he’d had to pay.

“Libations, m’lady?”

Izuku chucked awkwardly at himself, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he settled in on the floor next to you and began unloading the food. And it was so much. It was probably more than Izuku could eat by himself, but for you it definitely would have been multiple, multiple servings. You eyed it warily, like it was about to lunge at you.

“Wanna turn on the show?”

You blinked at Izuku, who was smiling softly at you. Not looking any different than the way he’d looked at you the day before and the day before that. He nodded at the remote and you hit play and watched the program come to life.

The both of you sat back like that for a while. Izuku’s hand was on your shoulder, running his fingers lightly back and forth. You were settled, focused on the show and breathing easily when Izuku reached for a pair of chopsticks and began eating. You stared, knowing that it was an invitation that you start eating too, but you were worried. The food would be tasteless, chalky in your mouth. The smell wasn’t making you salivate like it probably should have. You felt indifferent to it, like you were looking at any of the other household objects around you, the remote, the All Might figurine on the TV console. Not appetizing.

After swallowing his first bite, Izuku handed you the second pair of chopsticks. “You don’t have to finish anything,” he said gently. “And you don’t have to compare how much we eat, because I have to eat so much to do my job, right? So just try a little of each and go from there. For me?”

He was giving you puppy dog eyes. And there was really nothing you could do in that situation.

You tried one bite, starting with some rice and egg. And, miraculously, it tasted good. The egg was custardy and the rice had a nice balance of salt. When you swallowed, you felt a squeeze in your stomach, kindly asking for more. You decided to trust that feeling, knowing that the Japanese food wouldn’t feel too heavy when you were done. You took another small bite.

Izuku smiled at you, eyes shining. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

You nodded, hand over your mouth. “It’s okay.”

As the two of you watched the show, Izuku ate way more than you did. But you reminded yourself, as he’d said, that he needed a lot of calories every day to do all of the physical activity that was demanded of him, that One For All took out of him. What you needed was totally different, and that was okay.

There were leftovers when Izuku put his chopsticks down and leaned back, but he didn’t tell you to eat more. The two of you would wrap it back up and put it in the fridge, possibly take it to work as lunch tomorrow. When the program ended and the theme song for the next episode began, Izuku murmured, “We don’t have to talk about it today, but you know that I’m here for whatever you’re going through, right?”

You were curled against Izuku, head flat against his chest. You nodded into his sternum and hummed your affirmation.

“And nothing would make me not love you or not think you were beautiful. Because you’re still the best person I’ve ever met.”

You smiled sleepily. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Well, you must be rubbing off then,” he said cheekily. “We both still have a lot to learn about taking better care of ourselves. Everyone does, right?”

You looked down at his right hand, scars dimpling it all over, mended bones poking out at irregular angles.

“I’ve been learning a lot about it since I was a teenager, but I’m sure you have too,” he said. “I think you know more than you think you do. All you have to do is trust yourself as much as I trust you. And love yourself as much as I love you.”

You were quiet as his monologue ended and your show came back on. When you were almost sure he couldn’t hear, you said, “I don’t know how.”

When he didn’t respond, you thought you’d gotten away with it. That your confession had made it out of you without repercussion. But a moment later, Izuku proved you wrong, saying, “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I’ll show you.”

Then he kissed the top of your head, just as your eyes began to droop, and your heart finally began to warm back up.

“I promise.”

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 5

Character A and Character B are co-workers, but they barely know each other. But they both have to work through the holidays,, percabeth

Annabeth finds herself staring out the window in front of her desk instead of doing any actual work. She’s been trying to pay attention to the glowing computer in front of her, but she’s accepted the fact that it’s not going to be happening tonight.

She’s too entranced by the snow that is falling outside. It’s a magical sight on Christmas Eve, with the colorful lights of Central Park that she can see from out the window, and the families moving around together. She’s always loved living in the city, but days like this make her fall in love with it all over again.

Her attention is brought back to inside the building as someone coughs. It brings her mood back down as she is reminded that she’s stuck here on the one night that she wants to be home. She didn’t have to work, but she was already struggling to get by and really needed the money.

She sighs, looking back at her computer. She’s not entirely sure what report she’s writing up, but she supposes she has all night to figure it out, and–

Someone coughs again, much more insistent, and she stiffens. The last thing she needs is to get sick, but the coughing persists from right behind her.

She turns in her chair slowly, eyes seeking out them out. She finds a guy she recognizes staring at her from the desk behind her, and she blinks. “Do you need something?”

His mouth drops slightly. “Uh– no.”

With that, she tries to turn back around, but then he seems to choke on his own air.

“What?”

He searches for words, but then all he can come up with is, “I’m bored.” “I’m sorry?” Annabeth is only slightly annoyed, but she is much more amused now because he’s looking at her pleadingly, but she doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s asking her.

“I really don’t want to work anymore,” he says. His green eyes seem to stare into her soul, and it reminds her of the lights right outside the window in front of her. She is tempted to look back outside, to see if his eyes were brighter than the lights, but she restrains. “I get that,” she says, “but I don’t see what you want me to do.”

“Come steal snacks from the break room with me.”

“And get fired? No thanks.”

“There’s like five people here, and none of them care.”

“Do you even know me?”

He shrugs. “I know you’re least likely to kill me out of everyone here. They all have, like, kids and families so they won’t have fun. But it’s Christmas! Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“It means we have to drink all the eggnog and get drunk, so come on.”

He doesn’t leave her much time to consider it before he’s hopping out of his chair and walking down the quiet corridors. Annabeth is smart enough to know that it’s probably not the smartest idea to get drunk at work, but if she doesn’t get caught, then she’s fine. And if she does get caught, it means she can quit this job that causes her physical pain. There’s no losing, she figures, so she gets out of her own chair, lightly chasing after him.

She catches up as he’s rounding a corner, and she looks around at the empty desks, one or two with people looking as miserable as she’s sure she looked. It’s kind of creepy working so late because the lights are all off, the only things glowing being people’s computers. It all has an eerie vibe to it, and if she wasn’t with this person she still doesn’t know the name of, she would not be caught dead walking around by herself.

He leads her into a breakroom on another floor, flicking the lights on. She blinks as her pupils adjust, and then she’s standing there as he goes to pull something out of the fridge.

He holds it up above his head like he is about to sacrifice it to the gods. “Eggnog!”

She just nods slowly. “You brought alcohol to work.”

“It’s not possible to do this job without being wasted,” he says.

“I do.”

“I’m sure your life is miserable.”

Well, he isn’t wrong.

He begins to pour the drink into two separate paper cups that she’s sure the company picked up from the dollar store. As he hands it to her, she has to say she doesn’t think she’s ever seen people drink out of paper cups. And as she sits onto the couch beside him that is pushed up against the wall, she is reminded that she still doesn’t know his name.

She takes a deep gulp of the eggnog. “What even is your name?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you. You might tell the boss I get drunk at work.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m Percy. Please don’t report me.”

“I’m Annabeth. I’m going to report you.”

Percy just gives her a lopsided smile, like he can sense the lie. “Seeing as you’re going to get drunk with me, I think I can report you back.”

“Hm.”

They fall into a silence just long enough for it to become awkward. While she doesn’t hate him, she still doesn’t know him either, and there is not anything she can think to say in this moment. Instead of speaking, she takes this time to look at him. His eyes are trained on something in the distance, so she gets to take in his face, his hair, his torso without judgement. She finds that she quite likes what meets her eyes.

“So,” Percy starts, turning his attention back to her. She quickly averts her eyes. She doesn’t know if he caught her staring, but he doesn’t say anything if he did. “How’s life?”

She snorts, taking another sip. “Not great.” “That’s simply not an acceptable answer. It’s Christmas, so life must be spectacular.”

“You caught me. I’m just faking my awful life. I’m secretly rich and am only speaking to a peasant like you to blend in.”

He touches over his heart. “How sweet.”

“Unlike this eggnog,” she says, lifting it to her nose like she was an eggnog connoisseur. “What did you put in this?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just put enough of every drink ever so that when you blackout, you see God.”

“Oh.” She shrugs, gulping down the rest. “Sounds good.”

Percy smiles, and she suddenly feels the rush of heat down her back. She isn’t sure if it’s from the alcohol taking quick effect or something else. She holds out the cup for a refill and brings it back to her lips.

“Careful,” he says, “Drink too much and it really will knock you right out.”

“At least you’re here with me to get caught by D in the morning.”

“Serious question. Do we know what D stands for?”

“Dick?” she offers.

“Yes.”

Annabeth shakes her head fondly as she kicks off her shoes so that she can curl her socked feet underneath her. Despite the heat that has been trickling down her spine each time he gives her a look, the building is actually really cold. She shivers slightly, and Percy frowns.

“Are you cold?”

“Only a tiny bit,” she lies.

Percy sets down his drink like it was his prized possession before he pulls his sweater over his head. He doesn’t even give her time to protest before he’s chucking it at her.

“This is your jacket,” she says, tossing it back.

“I’m not cold,” he says, shoving it back to her.

“You’re seriously going to let a stranger wear your jacket?”

“We’re hardly strangers now, Annabeth. We’re best friends.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a big jump.”

“Yes, well, we’re drinking eggnog on Christmas together, so.” With that, Percy pouts his lower lip. “Please put it on?”

He looks so cute like that that she can’t resist. She gives Percy her drink to hold as she wrestles it on, and she nearly sighs in its warmth. She can still feel the body heat from Percy, and it’s surprisingly not as weird as she would’ve thought. It smells really good too, reminding her of the breeze at a beach, of a stormy night, and now, of him.

“Better?” he asks smugly.

She pulls the sleeves to over her fingers. “Shut up.”

“So, Annabeth, tell me about yourself.” He nudges her knee with his foot. “Why are you working overnight on Christmas?”

She shrugs. “Needed the money.”

“No one to go home to?”

“Other than family I’d rather not see? No.”

He gives her a sympathetic glance. “No one special?”

“You mean an extraordinarily sexy, funny, smart husband?” She laughs incredulously. “Absolutely not.”

“Today’s your lucky day! I know just the person for you. They check off all of those qualities.”

“Who?” she asks, disbelieving. “Me!”

She blows a raspberry in his face.

“Okay, I have to admit I’m not the smartest person out there, but I do think I’m not totally ugly.”

He’s not totally ugly. Quite the opposite, in Annabeth’s opinion. She’d never tell him that though.

“Worst comes to worst, you can always marry me.”

“What? You don’t think I can be one of those Hallmark characters who find the love of their life on Christmas?”

“Newsflash baby, we are those Hallmark characters. Meeting on Christmas Eve, working until Christmas day? Love story if I’ve ever seen one.”

She looks at him skeptically.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s make one of those pacts. If we’re both still single by, I don’t know, midnight? Then we marry each other.”

She looks at the clock on her phone. “You’re giving me one hour to find the love of my life before I’m forced to resort to you?”

“Yes. That’s plenty of time.”

“Sure,” she says, laughing.

“I mean, you’re already wearing my sweater. If that doesn’t make you wife material, I don’t know what does. Besides, it wouldn’t be terrible to marry me. I know you like my body.”

The looks he’s giving her lets her know that he did see her staring at him earlier. She smacks his arm. “You asshole.”

“What?” he says defensively, rubbing his forearm.

“Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“It didn’t bother me! Besides, I think you’re, like, really attractive too!”

She leans back. “So that’s why you want to marry me in an hour? So no one swoops in and steals the love of your life?”

“Precisely.”

Annabeth quickly learns she likes talking to Percy. He’s so easy to get along with, and he’s constantly getting her to laugh so hard she can’t breathe. He’s also really sweet and selfless, and he looks amazing in the midnight haze, and as they slowly both get closer and closer to being totally wasted, it just gets better.

She has no idea how she never knew his name before now because they’re practically best friends already. She feels like she’s known him her entire life. It’s so natural and perfect, the tense feeling long gone.

At some point, Percy falls over her, squishing her into the cushions of the couch. Her drink falls somewhere out of her hand, but that’s okay because she’s already half a bottle deep, and she’d much rather hold him in her arms anyways. Her fingers trace over the lean muscles of his back as he dies of laughter in the crook of her neck. She also quickly learns that Percy’ love language is touch, especially when he’s drunk. He’s an affectionate person, which is good because he balances her out perfectly.

Percy’s weight drops completely as he gives up on holding himself up. She isn’t sure how long they spend like that, sprawled out on top of one another, but she doesn’t care. This is a carefully constructed Christmas feeling she is too scared to destroy.

At some point though, she looks down to check the time on her phone.

11:59

She pokes Percy in the neck to get him to stop chucking into the cushions, and she waits until the clock strikes twelve. When it does, she’s lacing her fingers in his hair so she can pull him up to look her in the eyes.

“Hey, pretty boy,” she giggles, “It’s twelve.”

“Merry Christmas!” he yells a bit too loudly.

She’s laughing so hard that it comes out silent, and she can’t breathe. “No!”

“Oh! You mean the whole marriage thing?”

“Yes, silly,” she says.

Percy’s head drops back to the couch cushions. “So did you find the love of your life, or do you have to settle for me?”

“I think I may have found the love of my life,” she says.

Percy whines into the couch miserably.

“I’d hardly call it settling, though,” is what she says, and Percy’s head suddenly jumps back to meet her eyes.

Percy’s eyes flicker down to her lips, and she wants it so badly. She doesn’t care that they just met because this one hour with him has been better than the past twenty years of her life spent with anyone else.

So she whispers, “You may now kiss the bride,” and Percy takes her breath away.

[tickle-bugs]

Extraordinary

Summary: Makoto’s a bit haunted by the lack of normalcy in Hope’s Peak--at least, whatever shreds of normalcy could survive in a place like that. Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko bring him some measure of peace. 

@naegiristan Here’s your TOC fic! I apologize for it being so late, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :) Thanks to the lovely @peachytickles for hosting this with me. I had a blast. @ticklesofcolor 

There’s a lengthy conversation about food/healthy eating in the beginning, so TW/CW for food. 

Living at Hope’s Peak had forced Makoto to severely recategorize the way he viewed himself. Being ordinary was just...who he was. There was no word for it before. Makoto was himself, and that’s all that he ever needed to be. School life, if he could even call it that, had wrenched that comfort away from him. 

How was he supposed to be ordinary amongst the world’s foremost geniuses? What was the point of being ‘just Makoto’ when everyone else was so much more? 

“Heads up!” The call snapped Makoto out of his thoughts. He turned and caught a facefull of frosting and sprinkles. He narrowed his eyes at Hina, not exactly annoyed but not exactly happy either. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Hina wheezed, not even bothering to hide her giggles.

“I’m fine.” Makoto wiped a bit of frosting from his nose and popped it in his mouth. Hm. Strawberry.

“You looked like you could use a donut. I take my friends’ donut deficiencies very seriously.” Hina took a seat by his left, sliding the dozen box to sit between them. Sakura sat on his other side, graceful as always, and took a glazed donut from the box. 

“Sakura!”

“Hmm?” She looked up, donut in mouth, and Makoto stifled a chuckle. 

“You’re...having a donut?” Hina stared in open-mouthed wonder. 

“I can have cheat meals sometimes.” Sakura averted her eyes, uncharacteristically bashful. 

“I thought you hated donuts! I feel betrayed!”

“It’s reverse psychology, Hina. It makes cravings easier.” 

“Next you’re gonna tell me you actually love cake.” Hina huffed, and when Sakura stayed quiet, she threw her hands up in exasperation.

“We’re soulmates! I’m supposed to know these things about you! My whole life is a lie!” Hina whined, dropping her head in her hands. Sakura leaned around Makoto to pat her back, chuckling at her dramatics. 

Kyoko drifted over with perfect timing, taking a graceful seat before Hina could declare a divorce. 

“Hey, Kyoko.” Makoto smiled. Her eyes lingered on his face for a while, longer than usual, and it occurred to him that he still had frosting on his face. He pulled napkins from the dispenser on the table and dipped them in his water glass, choosing speed over discretion as he scrubbed at his face. 

“Hina. Sakura. Makoto.” Her lips quirked up on his name. 

“Do you have plans, Kyoko?” Hina slid the box to Kyoko, but she didn’t take a donut.

“Why do you ask?”

“Sakura and I were gonna go up to the art room. Wanna come?” 

“I suppose.” Kyoko smiled.

……………..

“Guys, look!” Hina gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“Is that...Celeste?” Sakura wrinkled her nose, slipping past Hina to get a better look. Nearly every surface in the room was covered in images of Celeste, from paintings to sketches--even a sculpture or two sat at the back of the room.

“Hifumi must have drawn these,” Kyoko sighed, thumbing through a discarded sketchbook--unfortunately, also filled with drawings of Celeste. 

“What makes you say that?” Makoto looked over Kyoko’s shoulder. The drawings were good--no, great, actually, if one could get past the creepiness of it all. Did Celeste know about all of this?

“He’s obsessed with her.” Kyoko held up a more tame drawing of Celeste looking out a window. Something at the back of Makoto’s mind stirred upon seeing it, but the feeling fled as quickly as it came. 

“I think he’s a little more than obsessed.” Sakura gestured at an easel with an Elizabethan-style portrait of Celeste on a throne, revelling in excessive jewels and finery. Celeste had to know, then. This was the kind of thing she’d force Hifumi to make, anyhow. 

“I want a creepy portrait now! Let’s make them for each other!” Hina giggled, appraising the portrait of Celeste with open amusement. 

“I’m not an artist, Hina.” 

“Who cares? It’ll be fun! You and I can do each other. I won’t judge you. Makoto and Kyoko, why don’t you guys swap as well?” Hina shoved brushes and palettes into everyone’s hands, leaving no room for argument. Though Makoto really wanted to argue. There was no way Kyoko would--

“Alright.”

“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.” He coughed, dumping his supplies at the nearest station. Sakura came around with canvases for them, delicately setting them on the easels. 

Painting was rather relaxing, once Makoto got into it. Some of his anxieties melted away as he meticulously blended the paint, trying to capture the lavender undertones of Kyoko’s hair. He cut the line of her easel across the canvas with a thick brush, and in one fell swoop, outlined the curve of her head peeking out behind it. The creepy piece of the activity was lost on Makoto from the moment he started--he had to do Kyoko justice. 

He leaned in close for the most important part: Kyoko’s eyes. They both weren’t visible, but her right eye peeked out just enough for him to capture the gentle violet. He dabbed tiny reflections into the iris, giving her eyes the shining life that he’d always admired. He wondered if his eyes looked like that. Probably not, anymore. 

The sensation of something light and fluffy sweeping across his nape rudely interrupted his musings and nearly sent him onto the floor. The feeling zipped along the side of his neck and hopped up to his ears--he tilted out of his chair at that point, and Sakura’s sharp reflexes were the only thing saving him from an untimely demise. She righted his chair with him still in it and smiled.

“Hina!” Makoto slapped a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks blazing red. Hina’s grin told him all he needed to know, but the paintbrush dangling between her fingers told him more. 

“Sorry! Had to snap you out of it. We’re going to go get dinner, if you want to join us.” Hina squeezed his shoulder and it only tickled worse. He tried to discreetly pry her hand off of his shoulder but there was no room left for playing natural. 

“You guys go ahead. I’m not hungry.” He cursed himself for the way his voice cracked. He saw Kyoko glance at him from the corner of his eye and he cleared his throat. Real smooth, Makoto. 

“I’ll pass as well.”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” Hina looped her arm through Sakura’s and dragged her out of the art room, leaving Makoto and Kyoko silent and alone. 

“I finished your painting.” Kyoko turned her easel to face him. What’d she painted certainly looked like him, if he squinted. The colors were all there, and she’d perfectly captured the one tuft of hair on his head that would never lie down. His face was a little lopsided, looking more like an emoticon than anything else. He adored it more than words could describe.

He needed words, though, because Kyoko was staring expectantly. 

“I….it’s…” Would cute sound patronizing? Maybe endearing was alright. No, that would be worse. 

“You can say it’s horrible.”

“It’s perfect, Kyoko.” He ran his thumb over her signature in the bottom corner. 

“Can I see yours?”

“Oh, uh. Sure.” He turned his easel towards her, eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Makoto.” He looked up, expression neutral. 

“This is wonderful,” She whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes, threatening to fall, and Makoto frantically passed her tissues from his pocket. 

“Kyoko, hey--”

“I’m just grateful, that’s all. Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to me. Thank you.” She took the painting from the easel and held it protectively. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

………………………………..

“I want what they have. Sakura and Hina, I mean.” Makoto unlocked his door and held it open for her. 

“A lesbian relationship?”

“Wh--no, of course not. Wait. They’re together?” Makoto’s jaw dropped. 

“Makoto, your lack of perception worries me sometimes,” Kyoko huffed, slipping past him with the paintings. She rested them against the wall near the door as Makoto worked his jaw, trying to remember how to speak. It made sense,  but how could he not notice?

“Listen, my point is that I want normalcy. I want to laugh with someone who means something to me. As messed up as it is that we’re trapped here--” He gestured to his room-- “I’d like to at least have friends like everyone else.” He flopped on his bed. She sat more gracefully beside him. 

“I’m not very funny.” Kyoko shrugged. He squinted confusedly at her for a moment. 

“That’s okay, Kyoko. You don’t have to be. I’m just complaining about something stupid.” He sighed deeply and fiddled with his jacket sleeves.

“I may have a different way of making you laugh, though.”

“Oh?” He looked up. 

“You might hate it. Just...tell me to stop if you do.” She made eye contact with him, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was...nervous? He’d never seen her like this. It was equally endearing and unsettling.

The skittering of nails around his collarbones stopped his train of thought dead in its tracks. 

“K-Kyoko! Wait!” He squealed, giggles bursting from him before he could even think to hold them back. She withdrew her hands as if she’d been burned, watching him intently. 

“You didn’t have to...I mean...I-It’s okay if you…” Makoto waved his hands around, well-aware that the stammering was losing him any cool points he may have had with her. 

“You like this.” A statement, not a question. 

“I think so? Y-Yeah, I do. It’s fun, and you’re fun, and--”

“Makoto.” Kyoko silenced him with the tenderness of his name. “It’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She smiled--smiled!--at him, and his heart flipped in his chest. They gazed at each other for a moment, warm and inviting, and it would’ve been great if Kyoko didn’t ruin it by tickling his ribs. Makoto squawked and fell backwards on the bed, giggling at machine-gun speed. He grabbed at her arms to have something to hold and she chuckled at him, sliding her hands down to his sides. She moved languidly, calculating every move before Makoto could react to her last one. 

“Just so you know, Makoto, you mean something to me, too. So in a way, we’re both getting normalcy.” She hummed and scribbled curiously at his stomach, laughing softly at his attempts to curl up. He wondered if she knew how awful her nails were, even through his shirt. His survival instincts advised against telling her, though--she’d likely never leave him alone. 

If Makoto could see through his mirth-squinted eyes, he might’ve seen Kyoko staring down at him fondly, smiling wider than she had since they’d arrived at Hope’s Peak. Instead, he cycled between swatting at her hands and hiding his face, absolutely overwhelmed on all fronts. 

“Yeah,” she whispered softly, applying enough pressure to make Makoto shriek, “Ordinary is just what I needed.”

If he wasn’t giggling so hard, he’d’ve told her that she was what he needed, too. 

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch.7

Hi everyone! I hope you are all having a wonderful day! I was excited writing this chapter and I hope you all love it! I think at this point I’m half way through the serious with the different events I have in my head to take place! Thank you for all the kind words and reblogs! You have no idea the smile it puts on my face! Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 

You almost did a spit take when the Avs’ media department told you their plan for that Saturday’s home opener. “You know that is in three days, right?” you asked to clarify you heard correctly.

           “Yes we do. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal though, you already know the routine,” one of the men spoke up. You looked at him like he had grown an extra head.

           “I’ve skated at least five different routines after it. You can’t expect me to remember that one specifically,” you argued. “Also, fans are coming here for a hockey game, not a figure skating event.” The media department was asking you to perform your long program that you skated for the Olympics during the second intermission.

“It would be a fun way to introduce you to the fan base though. Show everyone that we have an Olympic champion as a coach,” you stared at the girl who told you this. They were all smiling at you, but you were starting to feel like a side show.

           “I just want to be treated like one of the team, one of the coaches. I don’t want to be a side show,” you tried to reason with them.

           “You aren’t. Just this once. It is the home opener after all, everyone will be excited and we’ve had requests on our social media to see you skate.” The man said again, but this time looked disinterested in anything else you wanted to argue. How was skating your performance in a sparkly, little dress going to earn you respect as a coach? The media team looked at you expectantly.

           “Just this once please. I’d rather have the focus on the team and blend into the background myself,” you conceded. A few of them nodded, but you weren’t so sure you were being heard. You had this problem more frequently than you would like. Being of smaller stature with a softer voice, you weren’t always taken as seriously as you would like to be. Leaving the meeting, you walked back over to the ice and put your skates back on. The team had a light practice that afternoon after playing two back to back games, you being pulled aside after practice.  

           Back on the ice, you looked up your routine on Youtube. No one could really blame you for forgetting parts of your routine; you still competed after the Olympics and did have to memorize new ones. Playing the music over the loud speaker you started to mark your program, slowly remembering where your spins and jumps were placed. The footwork was what would be tripping you up. You closed your eyes and tried to remember as best you could, until you skated backward into a wall. Or what you thought was a wall but ended up being Nate, his hands on your waist to steady you. “Dang MacKinnon, you are a fridge,” you laughed as he let go of you. Nate’s cheeks became a little red as he chuckled.

           “Why do you look so stressed?” he asked you. You looked down quickly, not realizing that you had a look on your face.

           “It’s nothing,” you tried to smile. You knew the home opener game was on everyone’s nerves. They wanted to play well and win, and did not need you panicking for a different reason. “Why are you still here?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

           “I was waiting for you outside, but you never came out after media took you off for whatever they needed. I just thought I would come find you,” he said quietly, trying to gauge your mood still. “Why is your music playing?” You let out a laugh.

           “You actually know this is my music?” you asked, starting to skate backward away from him. Nate followed, starting to see you were avoiding his questions but also wanting an answer.

           “Coach showed us your routine when he told us you would be our skating coach,” he explained.

           “You have a good memory,” you commented, stopping the music once you reached your phone. Nate rolled his eyes and took your phone out of your hands. “Hey!” you yelped, trying to take it back from him. He looked at the video and back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Media asked me to perform my routine between the 2nd and 3rd period. The only thing is that I’ve kind of forgotten my footwork for it because I’ve had other routines after it. Plus I’m not entirely comfortable performing it at a hockey game that I’m supposed to be a coach at.” You explained in a huff, turning in circles as you explained because you couldn’t exactly stand still.

           “Why did they ask you to do that?” Nate asked, reaching out and grabbing your hand to get you to stop spinning. You shrugged, looking down at your hands and playing with his fingers.

           “They said to introduce me to the fan base.” Nate nodded and looked at your phone.

           “Well what do you need help with?” he asked. You looked up at him and relaxed a bit under his gaze.

           “You don’t have to stay. I’m sure your tired,” you said, but he shook his head.

           “Either you tell me what I can help you with, or I will keep your phone so you can’t practice at all.” Nate gave you a straight face. You rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

           “Tell me if the footwork matches up?” you asked swiveling away from him, and Nate smiled softly at you.

           “You got it Coach.”

~ ~ ~

           The feeling at the Pepsi Center was electric. The fans were excited and it made the arena come to life in a way that a figure skating event never had. At your competitions, people sat patiently in their seats for their favorite skater to take the ice, clapping politely for the others. Here at the game the fans were up and yelling, being as noisy as they could. You tried to focus on the team, but your performance was in the back of your mind. Was this really a crowd who wanted to watch a skating routine. You were standing behind Kadri at the moment, half way through the second period. The score was tied 1-1, and you could feel the tension radiating off the team.  With about five minutes left, the other team called a time out and a woman from media appeared on the other side of the glass, motioning for you to go with her. Bednar saw her too, and nodded toward you. “Break a leg kid,” he said as you walked past him. Nate was on the ice and skated over to the box opening, offering you his arm before you stepped onto the ice. As you reached out for him, you remembered what you wanted to say during the time out.

           “Oh! Cale, try to go to the outside. They keep stopping you when you turn in,” you said and he nodded.

           “Good luck,” Nate whispered as you let go of his arm when you got back on the none-slip surface off the ice. You sent him a small smile. As you were changing, you heard the goal buzzard go off and the crowd cheering. You hoped that meant it was one of your boys. Looking in the mirror after you changed, a huge smile lit up your face. You hadn’t worn this dress since the Olympics, and you loved the way it made you feel. It started off white at the top, and faded into (Y/Fav/Color). The whole dress was bedazzled with Swarovski crystals the same color as the material of the dress. The sleeves were sheer netting, bedazzled as well, with an open back. You put on your three-tier crystal choker that you wore for every competition since you were 8. Not one to have a lot of superstitions, your choker was the one thing that would devastate you to skate without since you had it for so long. You had worn your hair into a bun for the game and just had to fix your make up. You did not want to show up with competition make up to the game. Lacing up your skates, you walked out and started to warm up your jumps in the tunnel. Once the ice was clean, you were able to skate out and warm up quickly. No attention was draw to you, though being the only one on the ice drew it to you anyways. After warming up your jumps and a spin, you skated back off to wait for your introduction. Taking off your jacket, you jumped slightly as someone took it from you.

           “Didn’t think you could perform without us Coach, did you?” Tyson asked. You turned around and saw the team walking back down the tunnel toward you, most with their helmets and gloves off. The guys piled onto the bench, along with the other coaches. It made you relax slightly having familiar faces. Nate sat on the edge closest to you and gave you a reassuring smile.      

           “You got this,” he said in a low tone so that only you heard. You nodded, smiling brighter as you heard your name over the speaker. You skated out to center ice, elegantly striking your beginning pose. The music started, and everything around you faded as it always did when you performed. You felt like you were flying when you jumped, and couldn’t help a little excited toe step when you landed your last triple axle of the routine. Also, it did not help that you heard the guys cheering you on, so you knew you were doing something right. The last note of your music played, and you jumped out of your scratch spin to your backward bend, effectively ending your movement and routine. The stadium lit up in applause, whether they were just being polite or not you didn’t know, neither did you really care. You didn’t realize how much you missed performing until now. Smiling, you bowed and waved at the crowd. As you started to head back toward the Avs, a chant of “Coach” started to sound. You laughed and went down the line high fiving them. The ice was set to be cleaned once more, the holes your toe picks made being filled in quickly as there was about five minutes left of intermission. You were bouncing with adrenaline, and Tyson had to practically throw your jacket in your face for you to pay any attention to him. Walking off the ice with the team, you all of a sudden remembered the buzzard that went off while you were getting ready. You turned to Gabe who was next you.

           “Who scored?” you asked eagerly. Gabe smiled his charming smile at you.

           “Makar. It was your call Coach,” he said. You bounced excitedly and shoved Cale when you saw him. Nate was watching you the whole time, amused at your bubbliness.

           The game went on, with the Avs scoring 3 more times, making the score 5-1 when the final buzzard sounded. You were standing on the bench when it happened, and Nate picked you up slightly to put you back on the ground before you tumbled off the bench in your excitement. He had remembered what you said about being clumsy if you didn’t have your skates on. Once the team was in the locker room, you grabbed your bag and your dress and changed. Nate had mentioned that everyone would be going out after the game and that you should go with them. Then when Mel facetimed you to pick out an outfit, you really couldn’t say no. Plus Nate said he would pick you up so you didn’t have to worry about driving that evening. Though you suggested it should be the other way around since he was the one playing in said game, he insisted. After letting down your hair from its bun, you changed into a pair of skinny jeans, a top that just barley hit the top of your jeans, heeled boots and a jacket, and walked back toward the locker room where the families and guests of players were starting to gather. Before you could even question where you should go, a familiar blonde grabbed your attention. “You were beautiful!” Mel squealed, pulling you into a hug. You laughed and thanked her.

           “I never want to do that at a hockey game again, but thanks,” you smiled at her. She rolled her eyes.

           “I know. Nate said you were apprehensive about it,” she said, eyeing you suspiciously. You gave her a questioning look. “Just cause I can’t get you to spill everything yet doesn’t mean I can’t get something out of him at least. And I got my something. So you look extra cute tonight, your welcome.” Mel smiled slyly at you. You were about to ask her what she actually meant when the team started to disperse out of the locker room. Sinking into the background as everyone greeted their loved ones, you couldn’t help but feel warm at the scene. Competing as a figure skater was so individualistic, you usually didn’t see your family after a competition until after the award ceremony back at the hotel. That was if they traveled with you at all. As you looked around, you locked eyes with a familiar pair of blue ones. Nate made his way over to you, scooping you up into a hug. You giggled; your arms wrapped around his neck. As if you both remembered where you were at the same time, Nate quickly set you down and you brushed your hair behind your ear awkwardly.

           “Nice game MacKinnon,” you said, trying to not seem like you were too phased by remembering where you were. Nate chuckled, rubbing the back at of his neck. He felt slightly bad for making you feel awkward, but he was also getting tired of this unspoken line you had both drawn. What he wouldn’t do to just be able to kiss you then and there. He had to admit, watching your routine on video was one thing, but seeing you perform it in person and seeing you radiate with joy after took his breath away.  

           “Thanks coach. I guess you were pretty good too,” he winked at you. You laughed and shook your head, shoving his arm. Once everyone who was going out decided on where they were going, you walked with Nate to his car. Andre also got a ride with the two of you. You tried to tell him he could sit in the front since his legs were longer, but he insisted that you took the front. Once at the bar, the team got a seat in the VIP section, of course. You had actually never been in a VIP section, except for the time you went out with your friends for your 21st birthday. You had pulled the Olympian card, tipsy you having fun being center of attention when you usually shy away from it when you were off the ice; and it helped you were with a group of attractive people in the first place. Drinks were brought around and you had to fend off Tyson who kept trying to make you take a shot with him. Eventually you gave in and did one, but stuck with your beer for the rest of the night. You were a lightweight, and did not want to get drunk the first time you went out with everyone.

           As the night went on, you were definitely tipsy but not uncontrollable. You danced with a few of the girls and just had a fun time talking with everyone. Nate kept a close eye on you, grinning as you cracked up at something one of the girls said. “So what are you going to do?” Gabe asked, taking a seat next to Nate at their table. No one was paying attention to the two; either out dancing, at the bar, or in other conversations.

           “About what?” Nate took a sip of his beer.

           “Coach. Y/N,” Gabe answered, rolling his eyes. He knew Nate knew what he was talking about. Nate sighed, and figured out of everyone Gabe would probably give the sanest advice in this situation.

           “Honestly, I don’t know. I like being around her. I feel like I can just be myself and she doesn’t expect anything from me. I mean, I think she’s amazing,” Nate rambled and Gabe grinned at his friend. “But like you said the first day she showed up, I’m screwed. She’s our coach. She’s trying to work out this whole entire program and I don’t want to be the reason why it may not work out for her. There’s a line that we haven’t crossed for a reason, you know.” Gabe nodded. He felt bad that Nate was in this position. He was honestly just messing with him when he told him he was screwed that day; he hadn’t expected there to be actual feelings between the two. Nate had a solemn look on his face, and Gabe patted his shoulder.

           “To be frank, you two seem to have some sort of connection. It’s not obvious, but I’ve been paying attention since day one because I thought it was funny at first. But since then you guys have just grown closer it seems. I mean, you hang out all time. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you went and sat with her on the plane coming home. I don’t know what to tell you, but you are both adults and I’m sure if you just talked to her about it you could work it out,” Gabe finished as you and Mel bounded over to the table.

           “Work what out?” you asked, curious as to why the boys looked so serious. Gabe gave his wife a look that you did not understand, and answered as Nate seemed at a loss for words.

           “A new play,” he said, and Nate nodded. You took a seat next to Nate as Mel sat next to her husband, and dove into a story of what Linnea did that day. Nate started to relax again, laughing along with you. Soon after the night came to an end, and Nate drove Andre home before heading to your apartment. He carried your backpack for you into your apartment, setting it down by the front door while you ran to your room to put your dress away. With his conversation with Gabe still echoing in his head, Nate sat down on your couch, rubbing his face.

           “Do you want some water or something?” you asked, walking back into the main room.

           “Yeah. Water would be great. Thanks,” he responded. You grabbed two water bottles out of your fridge and handed him one as you sat cross legged on the other side of the couch facing Nate.

           “What’s up? Are you alright?” you asked, worried he was upset about something. It seemed like there was something on his mind. Nate turned to you, debating if he was really going to say it, or if he should leave it and you would both keep playing this game of not being something more to each other even though he was pretty sure you were on the same page as him. He gauged you as you watched him, deciding that you weren’t drunk, in fact you barely seemed tipsy anymore. If he was going to say anything, now would probably be the best. After taking a quick sip, he set the water down on your coffee table and turned so he was fully facing you.

           “What are we doing Y/N?” he asked. You looked at him confused, not sure why he was asking.

           “We’re hanging out? Drinking water…” you trailed off as he shook his head.

           “I didn’t mean right now. I mean kind of but not really,” Nate mumbled, but stopped when you reached for his hand and stared down at them intertwined. “What does this mean to you?” he asked, giving your hand a light squeeze.

           “Um,” you started, not sure if you actually wanted to say what it actually meant to you.

           “Because this,” Nate squeezed your hand again, “means something to me. And I think it means something to you too.” You nodded at his assumption. That was all the reassurance Nate needed to keep talking. “I like you Y/N, a lot. Like more than I thought was possible.” You smiled shyly, but then you remembered why you were in Colorado to begin with.

           “Nate, I’m your coach…” you started, but Nate shook his head.

           “I know that. I would never want to put you in a situation that cost you that, but I also don’t want to pretend like these feelings don’t exist anymore.” He moved closer to you and your heart picked up a bit. “You looked beautiful skating today. I think you look beautiful everyday and I want to be able to tell you that without feeling like I’m crossing some imaginary boundry.” You blushed and looked down, but Nate used his other hand to gently lift your chin back up so you were looking at him. He looked slightly worried that he had said to much, so you knew it was your turn to talk.

           “I really like you too Nate. I just don’t know how we’re supposed to navigate this. I’m worried that the program won’t be taken seriously if we start dating,” you said and Nate nodded, slowly letting go of your face. You could see the doubts start to form in his mind, and quickly grabbed his wrist, effectively keeping him there. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment, letting all the words that had been said sink in. Nate took a tentative breath, not sure if he wanted to know the answer to his next question.

           “So then what do you want to do?” he whispered, but at your proximity to each other it could have been a shout. You were pondering what to say next when he spoke up again. “Because I would like to see where this could go Y/N.” If you had any more doubts, that sentence pushed them away. You smiled softly up at him and nodded.

           “Me too,” your voice was barely over a whisper, but Nate heard you loud and clear. He smiled warmly at you, looking down at your lips then back into your eyes. This time when he leaned in, no phone went off to drag you both out of this blissful bubble surrounding you both. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips finally met yours, the butterflies in your stomach working overtime. It was short and sweet, and you both had smiles that could light up a room when you pulled away. You knew there was a lot to discuss and figure out, but in that moment you could have cared less. The rest of the night was spent with stolen kisses and talking about nothing and everything all at once. Neither of you had ever felt so content. And as the sun started to rise over Denver that Sunday, it found the two of you cuddled up and fast asleep on your couch.    

tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @andreiaafaria​ also @gravygravygravy​ @comphybiscuit​ (I know you two didn’t ask, but you’ve been so nice to me <3)

[malucy31]

Time in On Our Side

Here's chapter 2 a day earlier 😊

cw: nothing too heavy, but this version of Magnus isn't the happiest version of Magnus...

Chapter 2/3 - Times of joy, times of sadness

Read on ao3: chapter 1 - chapter 2

They talk and the weight of the centuries separating them evaporates.

Magnus tells Alec stories he has already heard, minus some details that make him wonder if his warlock husband didn’t invent them. He hopes he will remember everything so he can tease him a little when he gets home.

A twinge of sadness takes hold of Alec whenever he realizes that Magnus isn’t trying to find out more about him. His Magnus would. Danger be damned, he would try. He would have a lot of reasons to after all. Curiosity, suspicion, or simple intuition. Magnus’s magic never lies, and Alec knows he felt something. It must be gnawing at him.

But this Magnus doesn’t even bring up the subject. It would be fine if Alec couldn’t detect resignation underneath it. Now that he feels awake and perfectly healed, he can see it as brightly as the Sun on a clear blue sky. This Magnus is sad. The spark of joy and life that Alec is so used to seeing in him has been smothered. It sparkles every now and then, when he brings up the kinds of subjects and anecdotes he knows Magnus loves. But the moment the conversation dies down, a heaviness falls on the small kitchen like a lid. The only times his Magnus was like that are times Alec would rather not think about.

He takes a sip of wine, wincing at the sour taste a bit more than he normally would. It makes Magnus huff a laugh and the lid vanishes. Small victories and all…

It’s when Magnus gets up to check on his sandalwood blend that Alec looks around and notices something that makes his stomach drop. There are no windows in the living room. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen any window outside the small room adjacent to the apothecary and the kitchen.

This is very unlike Magnus. Magnus loves natural light. Their loft has floor to ceiling windows everywhere. On a whim, Magnus sometimes redecorates the whole place and replaces walls with windows just because the light is incredible. Alec has seen Magnus lie in the sun for hours when he is having a bad day, or when he has exhausted himself with a spell.

Having no windows makes no sense. Why would he want to avoid the Sun?

Magnus’s voice snaps Alec from his thoughts. “I’m still missing an ingredient.”

He watches him sit down across the table again, taking his napkin back on his lap and reaching for his glass of wine.

“I swear, I will find it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Alec sends him back his smile, adding something about how much he loves the scent of sandalwood, but Magnus must feel that something has shifted in Alec’s stare because he sets down his glass with caution, scrutinizing Alec the way he must be doing too.

“What is it?” Magnus eventually asks.

Alec is about to say something about the windows when something else catches his attention. He would slap himself for not seeing it earlier, but he is so used to seeing his Magnus underneath any kind of armor the warlock owns that he doesn’t always pay attention to what lies on the surface. Even today, Alec still reads between the lines, still sees Magnus’s kindred soul and open heart, the tenderness in his gaze. He still sees the most generous and beautiful man he has ever met.

But how could he not notice the obvious thicker black eyeliner? The way it enhances the dark hazelnut brown of Magnus’s eyes a little more than usual? A little differently? There isn’t a single round edge about him. His hair is spiked and even his jewelry seems to be part of a shield. I dare you to come close and find any weakness, it says. Even if there is something a little different about it today, the basic lines remain. Show them what they expect. Don’t be too much.

Alec is suddenly overcome by the need to protect him, to be the shield between him and people who can’t fathom that there’s no such thing as too much when it comes to Magnus. He just is, plain and simple.

If they were home, Alec would run a hot bath for his tired husband and kiss words of reassurance and love on his skin, remove his makeup with careful gestures until it’s just them. No armor, no one else. Only them and the walls they built around their life.

But he isn’t home, and neither is Magnus.

Alec’s chest tightens when he puts two and two together. He doesn’t know everything about Magnus’s life, but he knows enough to understand what is happening. Magnus needs protection for the same reason he has no windows outside from the rooms where he spends his time, his safe haven.

He is entering a battle that will last a few centuries, and he probably already knows it.

This battle has a name that, to this very day, makes Alec’s muscles stiffen, calls out his soldier reflexes.

Camille.

Alec doesn’t ask about the windows. He doesn’t need to.

Magnus will never open up to a stranger about this anyway, no matter how easy the conversation is. Even if he did, Alec will be gone in a few days and what good will it have done? The thought sends him into a downward spiral. He knows what is ahead of Magnus. Centuries of abuse, of loneliness, self-hatred, and despair.

This Magnus doesn’t need to be forced to open up by someone who will disappear from his life. He needs something strong enough that he can hold on to. He needs hope.

And Alec has an idea.

“I was thinking of a way to repay you for healing me and welcoming me into your home, but I don’t have any money… So, what about a small clue about who I am? Something harmless.”

“Please, do tell!”

Magnus’s eyes sparkle, and Alec is almost certain he can see his golden irises flickering for a second. There, trapped in the brown glamor that is supposed to make him presentable, a hint of gold. A hint of his aching soul searching for an escape, looking to this stranger for an answer to a question Magnus has been asking for centuries.

A pang in Alec’s stomach echoes that ache, the want and need to give Magnus everything he has ever wished. In times of joy as well as sadness, said their wedding vows. No matter the version of them, Alec will always give Magnus all his love.

“What you felt in me, what made my body accept your magic and kept you out at the same time. It’s magic.” Alec pauses for a second, considering exactly how much he can say without raising any suspicion in Magnus’s mind. His idea sounds too bold now. He could lie, invent something about being some kind of warlock, but he can’t. Not when Magnus’s eyes are begging for something, anything, as long as it’s different. The words are out before his brain has time to process them.

“It’s my husband’s magic.”

Magnus’s eyes widen and Alec is glad he didn’t backpaddle.

“Your… Your husband?” He pronounces the word with such delicacy that Alec’s heart breaks.

“Yeah, my husband.”

“H… How?” His voice is almost a whisper, his smile full of centuries-old, dried tears and smothered dreams.

Alec fights hard against the reflex to sit closer to him, take him in his arms, never let go.

“Where are you from?” Magnus asks.

“Far away.”

“You don’t say… You seem…suspended in time, like you… I couldn’t even find the words.” Magnus lowers his gaze, shaking his head and quickly trying to erase all trace of emotion on his face. But it doesn’t fool Alec. Longing is already coloring his tone. “I won’t know more, will I?”

Alec is about to apologize again when Magnus raises a hand between them. “You know what? It’s okay. Like I said, there is clearly something unique about you, and I wouldn’t want to put you or your husband in danger by knowing too much. But thank you for trusting me with this.”

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that. There are too many things he could say and none of them would make sense to Magnus, so he nods, smiling.

“There’s one more thing I would like to know about you, though.”

“What is it?”

“Your name. You haven’t told me.”

“Oh, Gideon. I’m Gideon.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Gideon. I’m Magnus.”

Alec can feel giddiness forming on his lips. How many people get to relive a first introduction?

When the conversation resumes, Alec can’t help noticing a difference in the way Magnus holds himself and speaks. Less guarded, more himself. It sparks something in Alec’s stomach, a need to be home already, an urge stronger than he has felt in the past month and a half. He can’t wait to be home, can’t wait to hold his husband in his arms and have living proof that Magnus did overcome everything, that Camille is a long-forgotten nightmare.

Neither of them realizes how late it is until Magnus has to conjure up some light in the form of tiny bulbs floating above them. The light they cast reminds Alec of home again, of improvised date nights in the middle of nowhere, of late dinners when they refuse to go to bed before the other one has returned. It makes it even harder to pronounce his next words.

“It’s late, I should… I should get back,” Alec says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Where are you staying? Let me walk you back. The streets aren’t safe at night.”

Alec is about to decline when he realizes that he has no idea how to go back, no cell phone to help, and that Magnus hasn’t invented portals yet.

“If that’s not too much trouble, I’d like that.”

“No trouble at all, but before you go, let me give you something in return of this lovely night.”

“Magnus, you don’t—”

He snaps his fingers, and a small pouch appears in his hand, the scent already tickling the corners of Alec’s mouth. Sandalwood. “Since you liked the scent… It’s not exactly what I want it to be yet, but maybe you and your husband will find the missing ingredient. You’ll have to let me know if you do.”

Magnus adds a wink as he hands the pouch to Alec in a way that reminds him of his own Magnus. It feels so good that Alec lets his grin grow wider than he has in a month and a half.

“Thank you. I’ll… I’ll let you know if we find something, but I’m sure you have the solution around here.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, but he can’t help it. He knows what ingredient is missing, it’s actually right there on the table, and he doesn’t always get the chance to tease Magnus.

For the first time since Alec woke up, he recognizes Magnus’s smile. It’s a smile that ends in a very soft laugh, the one that modifies his voice a little and makes him sound like a young man with no burden on his shoulders, no heaviness on his heart. It’s beautiful. He is beautiful.

Alec misses him so much.

*

He knows he can’t bring Magnus to the Shadowhunters’ lair, so when he recognizes the streets, he comes to a halt and stops in front of an inn.

“This is it… Thank you for everything. I… I really wish I could give you more to thank you.”

The moonlight accentuates Magnus’s soft features, but it also accentuates the ache in his eyes. Alec didn’t know he could want to take him in his arms even more than he has for the last month.

“You already did, Gideon.” He smiles, but sadness lingers at the edges of his lips. “Hope is a rare and valuable thing. It’s usually fleeting, but yours… There’s something about you, you radiate joy, hope and freedom. You let me have a glimpse and dare I say, a taste of it. It was an honor to meet you. I wish I could meet your husband too. Maybe someday?”

“Maybe, yeah…”

“In the meantime, tell him Magnus Bane sends him his best regards, will you?”

“I will.” Alec knows he has been reduced to monosyllabic words, but he can’t do more in this instant. His voice is choking with emotions.

“Thank you. I needed this, I needed to meet you, more than you know… Good-bye, Gideon. Travel safely, and I hope we’ll meet again sometime.”

There’s a lot Alec would like to reply, but no words could ever convey the depth and extent of all his feelings, not in this time or place. There is no space here for their love. There can’t be. Magnus doesn’t give him the time to say anything. He is already walking backwards, and that’s probably for the best.

“I hope so too. Good-bye…” Magnus stays trapped in his throat as he watches him walk away. He can’t shake the feeling that he didn’t give him enough. He shouldn’t have let him go before there was only joy on his face, in his eyes… Alec almost calls him back, but he can’t. Not for another two or three centuries at least. This had to be enough.

[alia-turin]

Finally chapter 5 and finally things starting to move at very fast pace. There will be 3-4 more chapters based on how long they turn out to be. I hope you enjoy this one as is long, but a lot of things happen. Also I think Avallac’h is a bit of a troll.  Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 5) Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter, mention of scars, angst AO3 Link

Caranthir looked at himself in the mirror, one of the few occasions when he actually needed to do it. Eredin’s, or more like Ge’els’ reception, was today celebrating...something. An anniversary or something like that, Caranthir didn’t really care, it didn’t matter either. Ge’els needed that for his little political games and they all had to behave, the occasion was not important, it was about the game. Caranthir knew how the power in Tir na Lia worked, he knew there were still some who doubted Eredin’s rule. Ge’els called that appeasing the nonbelievers, Eredin called it hunting the traitors. It was all the same.

He was dressed for the occasion even if he didn’t really want to be there, black coat the collar and sleeves lined with grey furs, grey belt over his hips and black pants tucked in black cavalry boots, his Red Rider cape hanging over his shoulder. Well, that was the best he could do, no amount of nice clothes could fix his face so there was that. He thought of opening a portal to Aine’s room but he decided against it. He was going to be civilized tonight as much as he could be.

Walking to her room he wondered what was he going to do from now on. No more running on his end, that was clear but then what? He felt he was on an impossible journey where he didn’t want to let her go but the longer he held her, the worse it would become. Avallac’h was right, he was a cage. He grinded his teeth. Every time Avallac’h was right about something it caused him physical pain.

He knocked on her door and did not wait for invitation - he walked in. She was standing in front of the mirror in her room but Caranthir froze in place forgetting what he was going to say or even do. Whoever the servant who picked that dress was he should start treating them better than the rest. Her hair was tied and falling over one shoulder leaving the rest of her skin exposed. The dress his servants had picked was green, somehow complementing her mismatching eyes, thin straps were holding the fabric to her shoulders, but he could see her collarbones and the elegant curve in her neck. The dress itself was simple, wrapping around her body, tight around the waist but running free around her legs, a long slit was starting from her hip all the way to her feet.

She turned to face him but he was still staring. Women in court had never attracted him in any way or form, too polished for his taste, but seeing her like that...then again she was not part of the court and probably that did it for him even dressed like that there was still wilderness around her. Caranthir wanted to go to that reception even less now. All he could think about was throwing her on the bed and tearing the dress from her body.

“You are not talking.” she finally spoke her voice doing nothing to stop his urges.

He made a sign with his hand for her to come closer and with some hesitation she did. He touched the skin on her neck with the tip of his fingers, her body tensing under his hand. There were still traces of the bruises he left on her neck and some on her shoulders and arms. He cast the spell and it all disappeared. She looked down to her arms, her eyes filled with surprise.

“How…”

“Not going to walk you in there looking like a battered horse.” He forced a smile on his lips, he wouldn’t have done that if it was different sort of marks.

He opened a portal and saw her surprise just growing at that. She had probably never seen one of those, the one he opened when he took her, well she was unconscious and then the first one she saw was probably yesterday when he walked in her room, but probably never consciously being through one.

“Not using the main door” she smiled, her eyes shining from the candle lights.

“Never.” her grabbed her hand and stepped through the portal making her follow him.

They found themselves on a grand balcony, no one was looking at them. He was right about no one paying attention to their entrance, she could see maybe few people looking at the portal but then they just continued their conversation.

Aine spent the day thinking about tonight and about the opportunity. She was finally out of the room with the door she couldn’t open and away from the servants that didn’t care about her. She did not harbor any illusions that the people here did, she was just above a slave for them, but she also looked enough of an elf to be able to blend and disappear especially dressed the way she was. She needed a chance when Caranthir was not paying attention. She looked back toward the city, the view from here was very different compared to her window. Different parts of the castle, but as it was a reception room she could assume it had easy access to the entrance.

Caranthir placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her to go inside, she obliged.

“Look at you.'' As soon as they walked in a large man approached them, the tattoos on his face looked like blood and his size was almost twice compared to everyone else in the room. “You brought your little toy.”

Aine froze as she heard him speak. That was the same man who had walked into her home and dragged her by the hair in the woods. His voice had been distorted by the helmet, but now it just hit her, that and the frame...she made a step back despite Caranthir’s hand that was still in her.

“Where is Eredin?” Caranthir seemed to pay no attention at the small panic attack she was having.

“Entertaining his guests with Ge’els.” The man made a sign to the main hall. “I guess you are busy tonight? Not getting drunk with me?”

She hoped Caranthir would say yes, he would just leave her to her own devices and he would go with his...she guessed friend. He shook his head. The other man smiled and walked away grabbing a glass of liquor from one of the servants.

Aine exhaled loudly, her knees feeling weak once her whole body was not ridged with panic anymore.

“Are you okay?” there was no concern in Caranthir’s voice, it sounded more like curiosity. Did he even understand what did just happen? Did he...she took a deep breath and collected herself. Just a couple of hours, hopefully less.

“Yes, I’m sorry it is the portal.” she tried to lie as best as she could, she had no idea if he bought it, his face was blank, nothing she could read on him.

“Come on I need a drink.” he led her inside and grabbed two glasses from a servant, he downed one immediately but passed her the second. He grabbed another one for himself. The servant walk away with an empty tray.

The room was astonishing, by far the largest room she had ever seen, still there were so many people inside colorfully dressed, women wearing fascinating dresses, it was hypnotizing and suffocating at the same time. She absentmindedly looked at the faces, that was probably the best of Tir na Lia and beyond. Everybody who was somebody here to pay homage to their king. She raised the glass to her lips, but she didn’t drink. She wanted to be sober when the opportunity arises. As she did that her eyes stopped at a man. Short for Aen Elle, short dark hair, he was far but she could recognize him.

“What?” Caranthir must have seen the change of expression on her face.

“That’s my father.” she pointed with her chin in the general direction, there were at least three other men in that vicinity. “Short, dark hair, dark blue cape.”

“Ailin Eurig?” Carathir looked surprised. “Really?” he looked at her father again and then back at her. “I guess I can see some of it. You want to say hi?”

“No!” she almost screamed. “I’d rather stay away.” she probably sounded more desperate than she was, but honestly there was no reason for them to interact. They didn’t split on bad terms, they split on no terms. Her father always had a strange relationship with her varying from warmth to ignoring. It wasn’t bad, never bad, but it was confusing. She had no idea on which day she would be the bastard child and on what days he would look at her as just a child.

“Interesting.” Caranthir looked at her and smiled as if she was supposed to understand their politics. She knew her father had power and resources. She never knew how much, no one cared to explain that to her, why would they? “If only Ge’els knew.”

“If only Ge’els knew what?” a tall lean man with blond-silver hair approached them. If Aine didn’t know better she would call him a king, there was something regal about the way he walked and held himself. His clothes were formal but simple, his gaze sharp as a cat on a hunt.

Caranthir was about to open his mouth but Aine looked at him pleading and he just smiled. “We were talking about art, seems like lord Eurig found a painter who can match your skills.”

“Interesting.” the man narrowed his eyes, she couldn’t decide if he saw through the lie or was truly offended by the art comment. “Are you not going to introduce me?”

“Ge’els, you know everybody here, do I need to introduce you?” Caranthir smiled almost pleasantly, Aine looked confused, not sure what was going on.

“I know where she came from, I know what you have been doing, but…” the man stepped closer and bent forward a bit. “Fascinating mix of human and elven lines. Almost perfect balance...and the eyes, different colors, very human but also elven... You should come to my studio some time.”

“She would not.” Caranthir moved between her and Ge’els, not even realizing what possessed him to do that. Showing he cared was giving the man advantage but at the same time something in him just stung. He knew very well what Ge’els did with most of his models and that was not happening. Not now not ever.

Ge’els smiled, his eyes fixed on Caranthir. He was going to use that against him, not now, he had no reason to do it now, but one day there will be something that Ge’els would want from him and he would use that moment. No more words were exchanged, there was no need for that, Ge’els just walked away to his next victim and Caranthir had to figure out what he could hold over the adviser’s head. A servant passed and he grabbed two glasses but when he looked at Aine her glass was still full from last time. He drank one glass and kept the other.

“Do you dance?” she randomly asked him. That was the first time she probably asked him a question.

“No.” He answered curtly then he realized it was a party and he had brought her here. So far all they had done was being short with with her and drinking. That was not how he wanted to be, but he also felt that everything he might say could scare her even further away from him, if that was even possible. “However, I do that.” he focused on a man who was standing behind Imlerith, seemingly without a reason the man lost his balance and hit Imlerith, his drink spilling over the general. What followed was angry Imlerith and a man who was very afraid.

“Nothing like juvenile behaviour to impress a woman.” Avallac’h’s voice spoke on his left and Caranthir turned making sure he did not get to talk to Aine the same way Ge’els did. Giving one of them advantage was more than enough for a night. “You are one of the greatest mages here and you use your magic for...what?”

Caranthir stared at him. He wasn’t a child anymore, he could use his magic for whatever he wanted. “Maybe you should have tried it with Lara. Maybe juvenile behaviour would have impressed her more than...what? Moonlight walks?”

They looked at each other. They had crossed a line, Avallac’h knew it and Caranthir knew it, but neither of them was going to step back.

“I hear Eredin wants you to take my place.” Avallac’h smiled.

“He should have done it sooner, with all the disappointment you have delivered.” Caranthir had gotten better at that. Years ago he would have lost his temper. Now the whole interaction was burning him from the inside, but he was still in control.

“The only disappointment I ever delivered is you, Caranthir.” Avallac’h face was emotionless but Caranthir saw how pleased he was in his eyes. “Truce?”

“Why are you even talking to me?” Caranthir’s frustration was growing, it wasn’t Avallac’h’s words, he couldn’t care less what his teacher thought. He hated being treated like a child and that was always how it started and ended.

“It is a social event Caranthir, people come to social events to socialize.” again that patronizing tone as if he was a toddler who needs to be scolded. “I heard an interesting story, from one of your servants. Yesterday when you came to my room I really wondered what despaired you so much to come.”

“Can you stay out of my business?” Caranthir raised his voice maybe a bit too much as could of people nearby turned their heads.

“I would, but you made it my business, remember, you asked.” he was right about that, his own internal tournament had pushed him there. “I’m happy for you.” there was no mockery in his voice, not as he said that. “I’m sure you will handle it well.” there came the mockery.

Caranthir wasn’t even angry that Avallac’h was teasing him, he was angry because Avallac’h was right. He couldn’t handle it well, he could turn a dragon into stardust but he could not control his own emotions or feelings.

“At least I won’t be left for a human.” he gave Avallac’h a smile.

“No but...you were left.” at first Caranthir didn’t understand what his teacher was talking about, but then he turned. Aine was gone.

Aine stopped listening to the conversation that was happening between Caranthir and the other man as soon as the navigator turned his back at her. There was her chance she just needed to calmly find her way to the door and from there the main gate and she would be free. Caranthir’s focus was entirely on the man, his whole body language had changed and she knew he was not paying attention to her, it was as if she had stopped existing, which was exactly what she needed.

She made a careful step backwards, wondering if he would notice, but nothing happened. Another one. Nothing happened. Then she turned around and started walking as calmly as she could, without running, but her feet just wanted to move faster and be out of there. She passed a pair of guards but nobody paid attention to her...of course they didn't. She was dressed like all the other guests, who would stop her. By the time she passed the last set of guards before the main gate she was running. It was so close to her freedom, she would be out of this terrible place and terrifying people.

Suddenly she saw a bright light ahead of her and she lost her balance, falling back on the cold ground. A portal with frost edges appeared before her and Caranthir stepped out of it. Her blood froze in her body. She was almost sure he would kill her now. Didn’t matter if she could not have her freedom, death was a good alternative compared to everything else he could do to her. His face did not betray anything, nor anger nor satisfaction, like most of the night he was just unreadable. He leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her up. Aine didn’t make a sound, she knew whatever was coming was neither going to be gentle nor pleasant. She had to accept it.

He turned her around, her arms crossed over her chest, his wrapped around her. In different circumstances his embrace might be even romantic, now she just felt as if he was about to crush her, pulling her close to his body.

“Crafty little spell that allows me to find you anywhere. You think I would take you out of your cage and just hope for the best?” he was leaning forward whispering in her ear, she could sense the warmth of his breath. “Where do you even think you are going?”

“Home!” She tried to free herself but he was way stronger and his grip was too firm.

“Silly girl. Your home is gone. We burned it to stop the humans from hiding so deep in the woods. You have no home.”

“You are lying!” he must be, there was no reason he would be telling the truth. “And even if you are not lying, anywhere is better than here.”

“Are you sure?” his grip around her eased, he turned her around, his hands still holding hers. It was dark but his pale eyes were reflecting whatever little light was in the yard, he was like a wild beast. “Half human half elf mut, alone in the world. How will that work for you? The elves will look down on you, always. Humans will never accept you, you are better than them why should they.” His words hurt but that did not mean they were a lie. There was a reason she lived far away from everybody. Sure at first she did not have a choice, but then she realized that she would never be accepted by any of them. She will always be different.

“So what, I’m supposed to do? Stay here?” she tried to sound confident, but the words had no bite.

“Why not?” he tilted his head as if he was studying something on her and then reached for her face, his fingers brushing her jaw almost loverlike. “I can teach you magic, you can have whatever you want.”

“I want a home. My home.” Honestly that was all she ever wanted, but right now for her it meant anywhere but here. She was scared, he had made it clear he wanted her here, she was denying him that, she couldn’t see herself living a long and happy life past that point.

Nothing happened for a very long moment, his face remained unchanged, she could read nothing on it. “You can go.” he finally said. “The guards won’t bother you.”

Caranthir didn’t want to watch her go so he turned around and walked back to the castle, angry. He could evaporate everyone here just to satisfy the temper. He wasn’t angry with her, she did the most logical thing one could do, saw an opportunity and used it.

He saw a servant carrying a bottle of alcohol and he grabbed it.

His first mistake was that assumed he could ever be happy in that way. His second mistake was listening to Avallac’h. His third mistake was he allowed himself to believe his teacher. In reality Crevan was right, Caranthir was a cage filled with anger, spite and violence, that was him leaving the cage door open and what happened? His bird left. If he had kept it close she would be here now with him. No, if he had kept her here she would have fought him and things would never go his way. At least not the way he wanted them to go.

He found himself back in the main hall and went straight to the balcony, no one was there so he could drink in peace. He leaned against the railing and watched the city. He could sense her, in a moment of reason he had put a curse on himself to be able to feel her. She might go wherever but he would know where she was and what she felt. He drank. The way she looked at him...she never turned her eyes away at his face, she never even said anything about it. Was it fear or she just...didn’t care? He drank. He could see her mismatching eyes looking at him, pleading with him to let her go. Was he that bad? Was he really that terrible that he did not deserve someone who can accept him for what he was? He drank. Probably locking someone in a room for a week was not the way to do it either…

“My lord.” someone spoke behind him and Caranthir turned around. Ailin Eurig was standing there, Aine’s father. He could pick some of the features from his face on hers, elegance of the face, the thin nose, better suited for her face then his. “Forgive me for the bluntness, but I couldn’t fail to notice the woman that was with you tonight.”

Caranthir narrowed his eyes. He knew that was not a social visit, it was a game. He had started the game by accident by bringing her here, but now the game was unfolding. If he was sober or less angry he could probably figure the game sooner, but he wasn’t so he waited.

“She reminded me of someone, someone I have not seen in years.” the man continued after he saw Caranthir will not respond.

“Yes, she is your daughter.” He decided to cut to the chase, he wasn’t in the mood for long pointless conversation, he needed the man to get to the point.

“Fascinating really.” The man seemed amused and Caranthir could feel his anger building once more. “I’m impressed. From my bastard daughter, who left the home rather ungrateful for everything I had provided for her to your bed. Then again humans and their offspring are good for one thing and one thing only. I hope she brings you as much joy as her mother brought me.” It was the words that burned in Caranthir’s mind but also the man’s smile. He did not care what he thought about the humans as a whole, nor about half elves, but that was personal. He didn’t view her as half elf, she was...like him and she completed parts of him that he was missing. If he was sober or less angry he would probably come up with a clever remark, make the man feel small and walk away. He was neither. Also he wished she was in his bed, not even because of lust, he needed to hold her and be held desperately.

Caranthir turned his whole attention to the man, holding the bottle in his left hand he grabbed him by the throat with his right and pushed him toward the railing. Half of the man’s body was hanging outside all Caranthir needed was just a bit more and the man would decorate Eredin’s front courtyard.

“I cannot decide right now if I want to push you down or I want to turn you in a worm and go fishing tomorrow.” the man’s hands gripped around his wrist but Caranthir was drunk and he didn’t think straight. In that moment he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Eredin was standing there.

“Whatever that is, you are neither pushing him down, nor you are feeding the fish with him.” Eredin squeezed his shoulder as if knowing Caranthir was past reason at that point, not even because of the man he was about to kill, he just happened to be the last drop in a very full glass. He stepped back letting the man step on the balcony.

“Your majesty!” Ailin was red and gasping. “Outrageous! Your navigator needs to know his place that was unprovoked attacked and he needs to be punished for that.”

“Punished?” Eredin smiled. “My lord, if I have four peasants, I can make myself four lords. If I have four lords, I cannot make even half of Caranthir.” the king stopped letting the words sink in the air. “I think my navigator and I need to have a conversation if you excuse us.”

The man bowed his head and walked away obviously getting the message of who is more replaceable. Carathir wasn’t proud of himself he knew he overreacted over something he usually probably wouldn’t. Or even sober and calm he would have reacted like that again as it was personal. Eredin looked at him, green eyes filled with...disappointment. First Avallac’h, then Aine and now Eredin.

“What was that all about?” the king finally asked after he had subjugated his navigator to his tortuous look for long enough.

“He said something, I took it personally.” he finally responded, he couldn’t believe the shame in his voice.

“Was it personal?” Eredin seemed curious.

He could lie. He could say yes. But it wasn’t. The man said what almost everybody else thought. Humans were below them and half elves had this strange place in their society that no one could truly define, but certainly they were not Aen Elle. It wasn’t like he and Imlerith had never made a joke about that. But it was also personal, the joke was not about them, the humans or them the half elves. It was about someone Caranthir cared about on a level he did not truly understand. He didn’t answer.

“Your arrogance does not need to hear that, but I will say it once.” Eredin leaned forward and grabbed the back of Carantjir’s head pulling him closer, his lips on the navigator’s ear. “You are valuable to me, and I like you. But I’m the king and I have a kingdom to rule and so happens his lordship is one of the richest and most influential people here. Ge’els tells me he is weak, but he has a son who isn’t, you kill the weak worm, we end up in a civil war. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Caranthir nodded, Eredin rarely spelled out things so loud and clear which only enhanced the gravity of the situation. He knew politics was fragile right now. Despite all the power Eredin held, there were people who just needed an excuse to turn the tables. There were those who thought themselves better than him and those who simply didn’t like him. Mages had ruled over Aen Elle for years and now someone else held the crown. Everyone needed an excuse.

“Ge’els will fix things, you get yourself out of Tir na Lia for a few days.” Eredin stepped back, there was fire burning in his eyes. Caranthir knew if Eredin had a choice he wouldn’t care what happened here, but the crown did not give him more freedom, it did the opposite. He nodded again. Ge’els will do his political talk and Caranthir will be out of sight so he does not add salt to the injury. He preferred to be in the mountains anyway, at least until he figured out his other problem.