#I guess I could go with my first thought and have this be pre Shi Xianggu

[fighting-these-demons]

The Shuffled Age of Piracy AU

I didn't feel like copypasting so take a broken up screenshot 😂

BASICALLY imagine Into The Pit but like, in Coastal France or New England instead? In this beautiful room?

Anyway.

🤷‍♀️

Just a neat thought.

[solarissantaella]

Lemon Squares in All Dimensions, NaNoWriMo Excerpt #25

Celia glanced over her shoulder nervously as a strident woman began berating her crying young daughter for leaving her sweater on the train, her voice increasing in volume as the rattling and whistling of the train receded into the distance. Nearby, a bald, scrawny, patchy-bearded old man lay slumped against an overflowing trash can, into which a fat, distracted-looking man dumped the remains of a convenience store slushie before rushing over to the wall to his left to review the station schedule. The slushie sloshed over the edges of the trash can and splattered, thickly red, onto the old man’s nose, but he simply closed his eyes and let the cold slip over him. 

Although Celia had lived in the outer ring for a few years, she suspected she still had a long way to go before she became immune to the naked poverty and downtrodden acceptance of misery that characterized the place. It was disheartening, to be sure, but she had nowhere else to go. The only people who lived in the middle ring were business owners who lived in apartments above their shops, and the inner ring was out of the question. 

Celia glanced back at the old man, whose eyes were still closed, and began to walk back toward him, reaching into her purse. 

Nakeem’s eyes widened. “What are you–” 

“Excuse me, sir,” said Celia in a soft but controlled voice, kneeling beside the old man. She could all but feel the filth from the station floor seeping into her taupe slacks, but she smiled when the man met her eyes. His were blue, faded and watery; hers were deep brown, almost black but bright and glossy. She pulled a small packet of tissues out of her purse and held it out to him. “I thought you might like these. I have plenty extra.” 

After a moment of hesitation, during which he eyed Celia skeptically, the man took the tissues. His knobby fingers, pale aside from hot spots of red inflammation around the joints, brushed hers, and he shivered. 

Celia said apologetically, “I know I run cold.” 

“It’s fine,” said the old man gruffly, tearing into the tissue pack. “My wife was just the same.” He met her eyes again briefly. “And, thanks.” 

Celia accepted with a nod, then rose. She considered saying ‘goodbye’, or even ‘you’re welcome’, but she wasn’t sure if it would come across as excessive, inauthentic. If she had to guess, she would bet the old man’s vulnerability made him the target of much cloying kindness from people less eager to do a good deed than to prove their own goodness. Celia didn’t want to make this interaction about herself, but it occurred to her that she was through her very hesitance, and, she had to admit, she did feel proud about herself for doing something to help, no matter how small. 

Pre-divorce, Celia would never have done something like that. She never would have been in an outer ring train station to begin with, and, if she improbably had, she simply would have stepped closer to her husband, seeking shelter under his arm from the misfortune of those around her, and he would have chuckled low in her ear, assured in his role as protector. Even in the months when she first moved to the outer ring, Celia would have shied away, not so much out of fear for her own safety– she never felt safe anymore; she doubted if she ever would again– but because the miseries of the world seemed so imposing and all-encompassing, it seemed futile to even try to defend anyone from them.

Celia still felt that way, deep down. It pained her to give the old man a packet of tissues, knowing the tissues would run out long before his urge– his need?– to slump against train station trash cans, his very indifference indicative of deep despondency, abated. Why was he here? Was he unemployed? Homeless? Disabled– by age, illness, a lifetime of hard labor? Was the wife that had once run cold dead or were they simply estranged? Why? Did he drink? Did she? Was he abusive, abused? Were there children in the home– a daughter, perhaps? Had this man lost his family, too? But Celia had eventually come to the conclusion that, if she was at her low point, she would, at the very least, appreciate a few good tissues to cry into, so she always kept a couple packs in her purse, just in case.

[satans-left-asscheeky]

Companions react to Sole using a lash curler and riping out all of their eye lashes

unfortunately I had the misfortune of this happening to me in middle school... Thankfully most of them grew back but I'm still short a few lashes from the experience.

Maccready

"WHAT THE HELL! Why would anyone do that!? OH MY GOD YOU RIPPED ALL OF THEM OUT!?! HOLY SHI- CRAP!"

He'd run around panicking not at all helping the situation at hand. Call it psychosomatic but Mac will swear he could feel the pain as he watched them rip out their own lashes.

Hancock

"Uh Sunshine?..... Im guessing you didn't do that on purpose.... right?"

He knew pre-war they did some weird shit to themselves I'm the name of beauty, but ripping out your own eyelashes? Hell no. Once he realized they definitely did not do it on purpose he'd help them mourn the loss of their lovely lashes.... it maybe different circumstances, but he rembers waking up with a lot less hair.... he however just didn't brutally rip all of his out.

Cait

"HOLY SHITE! Ive seen some gorey shite in my day, but that was like watching a horror movie. Ya alright lad/lassie"

She's not particularly nurturing, but she would make sure he friend was okay. She's not gonna offer her shoulder to cry on, especially since it was their own stupidity that got them in this situation, but she's glad their not hurt.

Danse

"KNIGHT! I-"

He'd stand their like an idiot, words completely failing him until they told him what they needed. Be it Knight Captian Cades assistance or moral support....

Curie

"Oh Monsieur/Madam please hold still..."

She'd look them over noting how red and puffy their eye was and how much it was running.... she'd insist they wear an eyepatch to keep dirt or debris from getting in it an injuring it further.

Deacon

"Wow your eye is really red! Sorry.... I- uh... I know! We'll just have to get matching shades! I think I have a backup somewhere around here.... I'll be right back."

Like promised he'd return to them shades in hand... If nothing else it should keep dirt and stuff outta their eye while their lashes grow back

Piper

"OH MY GOD!!! Uh.... um we can fix it right? Um... I mean it's not that bad... just no eyelashes left... oh god"

She was panicking because what the hell. How were they gonna fix this? Hopefully they'll go back because oh my God.

Nick

"Not sure what you expected when you took a medieval torture device up to your eyeball... oh Jesus kid you alright? that looked like it hurt kid...here lemme see it."

He thought they were just pulling a prank on him at first hence his sass, but once he realized they had indeed hurt themselves he'd rush to their aid, even though there was very little he could do for them beyond emotional support in this situation

Preston

"Just hang on.... I'm going to get the medic"

He'd freak out and rush to whatever settlements they were ats doctor. He didn't care if they really couldn't treat the injury he'd fell better knowing they were going to be alright

X6-88

"I really hope you didn't do that on purpose"

He'd be worried for their sanity until they told him they definitely didn't mean to do that... then he was just worried for their intellect

[myherowritings]

anywhere the wind blows

SUMMARY. After hunting a bounty near Wangshu Inn, you sensed the faint scent of qingxin blowing in the familiar wind. It seemed like it was leading you somewhere.

PAIRING. xiao x reader

WORD COUNT. 2.2k

GENRE. fluff, pre 1.3 release

A/N. my first genshin fic of my fav character xiao !! i’m definitely still getting used to writing for this world and for him but i hope this isn’t too bad 🥺 i’m so excited for xiao’s story and banner and can’t wait to learn more about him! if 1.3 comes and totally undermines the small guesses abt the lore i added into this fic then…we pretend we do not see u.u ANYWAY PLS ENJOY xx sof

“A rock shieldwall Mitachurl with a resistance to cryo,” you murmured to yourself with a satisfied smile, picking up the ominous mask and heavy horn that it dropped from the fight. “No more terrorizing Wangshu for you.”

You had just accepted a bounty handed out to you in Liyue and arranged for the proper party to come pick it up. The rewards were promptly transferred to your tab and you bade the team who came to collect the Mitachurl a swift goodbye.

It wasn’t normally on your daily agenda to hunt bounty for money—though the mora was quite appealing, you couldn’t lie—but when the beasts were too close to civilization and scared both residents and passerbyers in Liyue alike, you felt a greater need to step in. And now, after a job well done with some mora in your pockets, you realized just how tired and hungry that search made you.

Looking up, you saw the peak of the inn from a distance and followed the silk flower-covered path there. It wasn’t often you frequented Wangshu Inn, but you have visited enough to know their Jueyun Chili Chicken and Almond Tofu were pretty solid reasons to drop by again.

Your appearance was rather disheveled from your fight with the Mitachurl but you weren’t too messy-looking—certainly decent enough to interact with other humans you hoped. Smoothing down your clothes and practicing a smile, you headed over to the outdoor dining area and were greeted by a waitress who led you to an empty table as she asked for your order. The exchange was pleasant enough and you were soon left to your own devices once your food swiftly arrived.

It was dark out in Wangshu. The bounty hunt took most of your late afternoon and by now the sun had fully set. The dining area was quiet and empty with only the moon watching over you.

You hummed, taking in a mouthful of the sweet Almond Tofu. The night was nice and peaceful and quiet, just like most of your evenings.

A familiar breeze blew against your face, chilling yet warm. Captivating. There was a faint smell of qingxin, like the flowers you grew fond of during your explorations around Liyue’s stone forests.

The wind was different from what you experienced in Mondstadt. That air was light and playful. Free.

The wind you felt just now, on the other hand, seemed to convey something more wistful. Almost yearning.

And it wasn’t your first encounter with this qingxin-filled breeze either. When you helped comfort Little Luo back in Qingce Village and fended off the pesky Hilichurls on her trail, this wind blew around you and cooled the heat from your cheeks. Around Bubu Pharmacy when you spent time with Qiqi, a zombie you happened to stumble upon one day, you felt the same curious breeze.

Part of you felt like you were being watched over. But not in a bad way. It made you feel safe and protected, yet empowered enough to continue your bold expeditions and help the people of Liyue when you were needed.

The wind stuck around as you finished your meal, the aroma of Almond Tofu wafting through the air from the wandering breeze, almost as if it was seeking a taste. Once your plates were cleared and your drink emptied, you headed inside the inn and hoped they had a spare room on such a short notice and—to your surprise—for once they actually did.

On the way up the stairs, you passed by an open balcony near the top of the inn where you caught a glimpse of a lean figure with dark hair looking up at the night sky. You normally would have walked away from the balcony and left the man to his own devices, promptly going to your rented room to get some much needed rest, but the familiar scent of qingxin flowers dancing in the wind made you freeze mid-step.

Wangshu Inn wasn’t too far from mountain tops where qingxin grew… It could have been a mere coincidence.

But in Liyue, you knew that believing such things could be a coincidence would simply be fooling yourself.

The person on the balcony gave no indication that he felt your gaze, but you knew intuitively that he had already sensed your presence despite not having moved a single inch. His stance was so steady you might have thought he was a statue if not for his teal-tinged hair blowing in the wind.

Could he have been the cause of the qingxin breeze that recently started following you around?

“Hi,” you said gently to more formally announce your presence. On the off-chance he didn’t realize anyone was there, you definitely didn’t want to startle him. But judging by the unsurprised expression on his face as he slowly looked over his shoulder, you sincerely doubted he was one to startle easily. “May I stand here?”

His eyes were scrutinizing but not unkind as they looked you up and down. You took your time examining him as well— From the top of his silky-looking hair to the blue tattoos wrapping around his arms and to the mysterious horned mask hanging from his hip.

“I suppose you may,” he finally replied with a single nod, his voice neither welcoming nor rude.

You stood a few feet away from him, leaning against the wooden balustrades as you let the cool air hit your face. The night was quiet and calm, dimly lit by the moon peeking through the foggy sky. Sighing, your eyes fluttered shut in contentment as you felt the wind soothe the aches from the bounty hunt in your muscles.

You wouldn’t normally let your guard down like this in front of someone you just met, but for some reason you weren’t the least bit on edge. He didn’t seem like a stranger. And you had a feeling that maybe he wasn’t.

“Have we met before?” you found yourself wondering aloud. The mask on his hip looked familiar, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, like you’ve seen it in a book you’ve read. And the air around him certainly felt familiar, though it seemed strange to describe why.

He didn’t respond.

Huffing, you tried a different approach. A more direct one. “Have you been following me?”

His brow raised but he uttered no words.

Was that approach too direct?

After a moment of silence, he said, “Were you not the one who followed me out onto the balcony? If I remember correctly, I was here first.”

“But were you not the one who drew me here with your qingxin-scented breeze?” you shot back, tone more curious than biting.

To your surprise, he said nothing to deny it. “Attentive, I see.”

“I’m not sure it’s quite that I’m attentive rather than you wanting me to know.” You hid a smile. He wouldn’t have made it so obvious otherwise, you were certain of it. For someone who held more power in his little finger than you could possibly fathom, you knew that him alerting you of his existence couldn’t be a mere accident.

“You’re right.” He shrugged. “But it’s not so much that I wanted to call you here than I didn’t mind if you happened to stumble by.”

You ran the palms of your hands over the railings, craning your neck to the side to face him. He was a puzzling creature, giving off the aura of something greater and more powerful than a human. The ominous mask dangling around his hip seemed to serve as a word of caution to indicate a menacing side he hadn’t shown you, but his calm stance and the small tilt of his head made him seem curious—almost inviting.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“And why did you want me to, as you say, stumble by?” you said. “Not that I mind.”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, shaking his head and looking confused himself. “Intuition? I noticed you fighting, helping the people of Liyue. You’re doing a...good job.”

You shrugged, rubbing at the back of your neck as you shied away from his praise. “So you summoned me here to thank me?”

“I don’t know,” he said again, his impassive tone sounding almost frustrated.

At the small frown playing on his lips, you couldn’t help but let a noise of laughter escape you. He gazed at you in question. This whole situation seemed strange and peculiar, straight out of a dream you’d have at random only to forget the next morning. He seemed strange and peculiar, like a figure out of a story book lost in the ruins of Liyue.

And yet you found yourself enjoying this odd encounter.

“Well, Mr. Stranger, since you seem uncertain of so many things still, are you going to continue to have your wind follow me around Liyue until you figure whatever it is out?” you questioned teasingly, not at all minding that prospect.

He glared, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s not that I was following you. I only sensed someone in need but happened to see you rushing along the way and decided to let you handle it. The less involvement in the affairs of mortals, the better.”

So he wasn’t a mortal himself, you thought, his words confirming your previous suspicions. Still…

“Is that so?” You quirked a brow. “And what is this if not for involvement in the affairs of a mortal?”

He folded his arms and didn’t say a word.

“Let me guess— You don’t know?”

“Hmph.”

You smiled. “Well, I guess it’s okay you don’t know. It’s okay not to know sometimes, you know?”

He blinked. “You aren’t making sense.”

“And you are?” you retaliated. “I still don’t know who you are or anything about you yet. But… I know you smell like qingxin flowers and feel like a cooling breeze. And I know that I rather enjoy it.”

The mysterious entity looked out into the mountain scenery, gloved hand resting on the dark balustrade. He seemed both lost in thought and completely aware of his physical surroundings at the same time. Suddenly, he spoke up.

“Xiao.”

Your gaze met his as he nodded once. “Xiao?”

“My name. Now you know who I am.”

You laughed, startled by how blunt he was. “I guess you’re right. Nice to meet you Xiao.”

“Hm.” Xiao waited one moment before he asked, “Do you plan to keep exploring Liyue?”

At his question, you briefly considered your options for the near future. You liked Liyue and there was so much you had left to see. Was it like home to you? No— Not yet anyway, though it could be if the situation was right. But that didn’t mean you wanted to leave just yet.

Not when you may have found a reason you would want to stay.

“For the time being, yes.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “That’s good. You being there to help the people of Liyue means less involvement with mortal affairs for me.”

Though his tone was haughty, he didn’t seem like he actually minded what he considered mortal affairs. If he did, why would he be so alert when he sensed people in need?

“And, if you ever need assistance during your ventures, I’ll be there.”

Xiao’s words comforted you as you looked at him, his hair blowing in the wind. Maybe one day you could reach out and touch it. But not today.

You sensed this meeting was about to end. The breeze picked up and you could feel him getting ready to leave. Whether he was going to leave to go to bed or leave the mortal world, you weren’t sure. But you would rather treasure this encounter than dwell on an inevitable—and hopefully temporary—farewell.

“Thank you, Xiao. And if you ever need assistance with...whatever it is you do, I’ll be there too!” you said confidently. “As I’m sure you’ve seen, I’m pretty handy at weilding a sword myself.” You doubted he would ever need much help in the physical or martial department. “Or, I could simply lend an ear as well.”

It happened so fast, you weren’t sure if it was actually there, or if your eyes were playing tricks on you— Xiao smiled. At least, you thought he did. But in the mere blink of an eye, it was gone.

Still, you don’t think you would ever forget that peaceful image no matter how hard you tried. Not that you wanted to.

Sensing the night coming to an end, you asked, “When will I be able to see you like this again?”

He paused. “In this human form, you mean?”

You nodded, though you figured the answer would be those three familiar words he had said many times tonight.

“I don’t know.”

A wry smile played on your lips. Knew it.

“The mortal realm is not where I naturally belong,” explained Xiao, amber eyes glowing brighter than the moon in the sky. “But I will meet you again in this state soon.”

The scent of qingxin grew stronger as the wind picked up. His skin grew paler, almost translucent as he met your gaze one last time for the night.

“Even if it takes time, at least the wind will tell me when you’re near.” You smiled, raising your hand in a wave. “Goodnight, Xiao.”

“Sleep well, traveller.”

And in your dreams that night, with qingxin in the air, you felt contentment and serenity in ways you never had before. You would see the entrancing being who called himself Xiao again. Soon. But you had the wind to keep you company while in wait.

[nighttimepixels]

TALK TO US ABOUT MASS EFFECT I HAVE BEEN AN INSANE MASS EFFECT/SHAKARIAN TRASH PERSON SINCE 20-FUCKING-11 AND LEMME TELL YOU THOSE FEELINGS HAVENOT TARNISHED A SINGLE FRACTION IN THOSE TEN YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOODDDSSSS!!!!!!!

I DEMAND A PLAY-BY-PLAY UP TO THE MINUTE OF YOUR REACTIONS TO EVERYTHING!!!!

you are so valid and I totally see why everyone I've ever mentioned it to loves the hell out of it

aksdjlsdfj I meannnn if you want to hear my rambling about it then hell yeah

Okay, gonna put this below the cut to save everyone else XD also- since I'm not leaving this Mass Effect obsession anytime soon, if you're not interested in seeing occasional posts about it, please feel free to block the tag "night plays ME"~

(mild spoilers ahead??)

((also for real I mean it when I say this is rambling as hell lol, apologies and no stress if absolute no one reads all this))

OKAY SO Mass Effect 1-

Stars help me, I was honestly hooked right from the start?? Like even in Legendary Edition (the combined trilogy just re-released in one "can play it on one system + minor improvements", for anyone who doesn't know) where it's smoothed out, of course it's obvious that ME1 is a decade old... but the foundation for these relationships are all there and gods I love them already.

Like - Kaiden right off the top is a delightful good fightin lad, what the hell. I've heard that he's viewed as 'bland' by a good portion of the fan community but I dunno, he's a delight and even more complex by the time 2 rolls around and you encounter him on Horizon, it was honestly Ashley I was way more meh about - mostly because before you can learn about her family history/etc, she comes off as hella xenophobic and I was immediately offended for my growing space family that she didn't like/trust all the aliens around, pfff.

(she gets redeemed a bit through further actions/evolving thoughts, but I thought in retrospect it was a bummer that they didn't flip the order there, give her a chance to be liked before the complicating factor of being so rude about aliens >:c that then she could grow from... ah well. Apparently she has a good arc but uh, let's just say I chose Kaiden at the "key junction" in the latter part of the game so I won't be seeing anymore of Ashley uh... anytime soon, haha.)

Garrus??? Is??????? The ABSOLUTE best???????????

I liked him from the start, I'm always a bit of a sucker for a rogue-detective "the system won't bring this bastard to justice, so I've got to" type and all their moral shadiness XD But he just gets better, honestly, and where I'm at in ME2 (right before the Reaper IFF mission, as of typing this, with everyone's loyalty!) I am only digging myself deeper into this hole-

-*wheezing* okay anyways -

Wrex is AMAZING I love fightin' middle-aged krogan bastard, gods. Liara is great too, I'm a sucker for a wlw relationship (playing fem!Shepard, so) - buuuut I'll admit she's a bit more one-note in ME1. Last week while I was still on ME1 I remember hearing (while trying to dodge spoilers) that her arc is really good, though. I think they leaned a little hard on the 'innocent but sexy' sterteotype on her (so despite the yikes aspect of a few of the things I've learned in ME2, lol, I actually really like the complexity that's been added to her character.)

Saved Liara first, so by the time I got to Noveria and had the standoff with Benezia there was the chance to have emotions over Liara having to face her TwT and of course, I made the questionable but quality decision to free Queen Rachni heheh. no ragrets

More than a blow-by-blow of my choices though I totally wanna take the chance to say that even in the mild jankiness of ME1 (goddammit, the Mako.... please..... please just go up this impossible cliff I just want to resource hunt-) the way that the lore, both obvious/key to main plot and the lesser/filler/background/world-building kinds... I just love it. It incorporates it well, you can go ham in the codex learning more, or just dive into the basics - it's clearly a complex galaxy (and they do an even better job in 2 of fleshing it out further), and it never really felt overwhelming. It was pretty natural figuring it all out-!

Plus the interesting implications of resource hunting amongst the sapient races, and the little side missions you better bet I did every one of- there's so much rich depth in the story if you do 'em!! (And that lead with that Keeper side mission...? Looking back, damn, clever foreshadowing-!!!)

And oh my gods, Ilios??? hell yeah. I loved that mission so much, especially having Garrus & Kaiden with me when talking to the hologram/computer, and more than anything, that last sprint in the Mako trying to get to the jump before it closed-???

yeet the boi-

Also mannn I love a good setpiece, and having to go up the side of the elevator, space-side?? such a cool setup!!

Plus it felt good having been Paragon enough (as simple as the good v bad vibe system is, I don't hate it, lol) to avoid one of the Saren fights, ngl. And the er, "second fight" with Sovereign-Saren.... hell yeah

... I'll admit I had to double check my choice re whether to save the Council. I did in the end, but I swear, sometimes the way they phrase things I'm like ".... okay but Garrus is right, defeating Sovereign is more important than these few leaders??????" woops. Listen, priorities, is all I'm saying..... (￣ヮ￣|||)ゞ

'Course later they emphasize (in ME2) that there were 10,000 people on that same ship and I was like well I wouldn't have second guessed if I'd known that, I mean c'mon-

Also I did indeed romance Liara in this one, so I got that scene ;Dc But,,,, I also knew by the end that I was totally gonna romance Garrus in 2 since he's an option then finally,,,,, lemme tell you the guilt as I waffled over whether to romance Liara bc of it. hahaha.

Aaaaand Mass Effect 2-

So I'm only up to right before the Reaper IFF Mission, so I don't know the ending, etc etc lol. That said, I've just finished every side mission I've found with the exception of the Shadowbroker Quest and the Arrival Quest (I've heard the latter basically leads into ME3, and the former is best either right before the Omega 4 jump or in postgame).

So from the start - fuck yeah fuck yeah what a high adrenaline start Shepard noooooo but also yes save Joker aH-

The motion comic too hot damn nice job

I loved this setup, seriously - especially forcing Shep into this situation, having to work with/for Cerberus, and the compelling reasoning given behind "why" they do what they do (I especially found it a good point that the Salarians have the Task Force, the Asaris the Commandos, the Turians the- etc... like, true, when you put it like that, having a similar group advancing human interests/solving human interstellar problems is pretty reasonable...). That said, I love too that it really isn't shied away from how Cerberus is nonetheless fucked up - or its at least done fucked up stuff.

Listen, I still think some messed up stuff is gonna be revealed in 2's endgame......... after that Horizon mission and the Collector's ship???? TIM I SEE YOU YOU SHADY MF-

aaanyways lol...

I'm so so glad on a gameplay level they nixed the Mako style exploration. A few Hammerhead missions are fine and a lot more focused than the slippery ass navigation in that glorified ATV, pfff. The probes are a neat way of getting after similar resources - and more importantly, having good levels and some good hubs (the Zakera Wards, Omega, Ilium, etc) is way way more fun than having a more 'sprawling' space that is.... a lot of empty nonsense, lol.

Then there's the fact that we get Joker right off the bat and you can interact with him so much - and him and EDI??? Get out gods I love them. Kasumi is so right when she says they sound like a bickering old married couple lol. I have a terrible feeling that some shit is gonna happen with EDI..... but I don't think she's evil as-is, at least.

Side-eying the hell out of those "access forbidden" parts of her that she doesn't even know.... and the fact that her AI core has a locked door access................... something's gonna happen gdi LEAVE OUR ADOPTED AI ALONE.

(Also Joker pls stop fracturing your thumb on the mute button)

Also please save me there are so many hot aliens in this game,,,,, the xeno/monsterfuckers really comin' through strong in the sequels............... doin' the lord's work........................................

In general, I love how many levels ME stepped up in two with complexity and interwoven narratives!! Like, to the point it'd be almost a drag to replay ME1, even though it was fun going through it (if occasionally a bit tedious with the cookie cutter rando planet science/mine facilities, lol). Like, just from how fun and interesting ME2 is, mostly! more of all the pre-introduced races, plus new ones, plus more filling in of intragalactic politics, and more interesting implications of all these space-faring races mixing....

Also gods WREX and his planet holy shit,,,,, fuckin' hell yeah my man get their shit together and also adopt Grunt yes good-

And Mordin??? My singing semi-evil scientist best friend forced to confront his choices more than he thought he ever would have???? With some of the best ongoing general report chatter of all the companions??

(when I tell you I choked on my coffee when I talked to him after confirming romance choice w/ Garrus and that 'pamphlet' and 'anaphalactic shot if ingesting-' kajsldkfjsldfjk)

Like, fuck, the fact that they actually dive into the mixed morality and horrors of the genophage, and you can confront Mordin on it, for good reason, yet he still stands his ground, until finally some bits of his loyalty mission seem to... affect him, and I'm guessing might set up things for 3 with him? Unsure, but either way, damn, the fact that they start to dig into it...

And Taliiiii my beloved forbidden alien wife TwT her loyalty mission was SO GOOD. I love how varied they all are?? Getting to defend her and discover what she'd unwittingly been a part of-!!

Zaeed is a bastard but tbh I love that he is and that he's unapologetic in him - and Kasumi omg, best thief. A heist?? Gods, yes- I love our couch lounge chats XD

Samara is..... illegally.......... she's an illegally powerful and beautiful and eloquent MILF...........................

(.... listen I'm sapphic as hell and I'm kicking my own ass for picking her up last aksjdlfksjdfl - but her loyalty mission, damn. And seeing how there's this interesting cultural subset, and the struggle with the Asari in that they unquestioningly accept/respect justicars, but also know that the impact outside their culture is a diplomacy nightmare waiting to happen-)

,.,,,,,T,,, Thane,,,,,

I am weak for morally implicated murder dads okay?? And that voice??? His mannerisms?????? How you first see him, and that prayer after assassinating her...???????? And his history/his people's history with the hanar, gods I love how messy it is, it feels so much more real!

Also Jack is a mess and I love her (and want to get her some therapy, omg), and her and Miranda nearly duking it out after you've done both their loyalty missions??? so good and makes a lot of sense-! Honestly I would love more interactions between teammates on the ship, but there's already so much the devs had to balance I can't blame 'em for minimizing, heh. But suffice to say I also love Miranda and Jacob, even if I'm softest for my alien crew XD Hell yeah Jacob, we'll get loud and spill drinks on the citadel indeed TwT

.... I could write a whole essay on how much I love Garrus oTL Perhaps because he and Tali are the throughlines from 1 on your 2 crew, I have some of the strongest feelings about them... but genuinely, he was one of my favorite companions in the first game, and how you find him as Archangel in two? Getting to help him fight his way out after he's gone nearly 48 hours straight fighting off three gangs alone, jfc. His vengeance quest and what can happen there.... That line? fuck me, that line -

It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey? I don't know what to do with gray...

How DARE you come for my heart like this, devs holy shit

(also, some other choice faves so far from the series from him include We can disobey suicidal orders?? and This wasn't in my training manual... [in 1, if you have him with you @ th Thorian fight] and his whole.... pop the heat sink - in his romance ;Dc)

asdasdfksadjfkl like I said I can write an essay on him PFFF suffice to say I'm very looking forward to his romance scene and where things go in 3

But yeah gods I'm just gonna keep rambling if I'm not careful lol. Gods I don't even know what to talk about it's all so good and while I can understand people roasting the obviousness of Paragon V Renegade (v neutral) choices/alignments, I think they do a pretty damn good job in 2 of pushing it further - to the point that there were some times that I accidentally got renegade points and I wasn't that mad, haha. There's so much fun in the interactions that I just have a good time anyways~

I have so many thoughts about TIM (The Illusive Man) and Cerberus.... theories evolving galore............... and like, what the hell!! Omega 4 going to the center of the galaxy is such a cool twist, goddamn - though my heart still breaks at losing Kaiden (his line if you haven't romanced him?? about feeling like he lost a limb when he lost you??? holy shit.... but I also can't blame him for not trusting Cerberus to the point of it affecting his ability to trust Shepard... like fuck Shep go after himmmm) I'm really excited to see where that goes since he comes back in 3, and what the fuck happens with Cerberus bc while I love the fact that obviously there are a lot of people in it for the right reasons, doing good work, there are those that are doing the opposite, and I have a very bad feeling about where TIM will end up landing....

All that said though I need to do the Reaper IFF mission (where I'm lightly spoiled as to getting That Boy, but not how/what happens to make it so - just that it's apparently wise to have all your side missions done before getting him...) and the actual Omega 4 jump. So we'll see what happens and what I think about it from there heheh!

.... major kudos and genuine props if you made it here to the end, I am so sorry for not editing on condensing all this, and appreciate you so much ;w;

[curiosity-killed]

warm and real and bright

hualian pre-relationship, hualian & lang ying

word count: 3014

on ao3

���Here, gege, let me.”

Before Xie Lian can say a word, Hua Cheng has folded himself down in one elegant motion to kneel at the bottom of the steps. Something about the gesture brushes the back of Xie Lian’s mind, tugs at the corner of the veil shrouding memories from centuries ago—but he can’t place it and brushes it aside as disorientation from seeing Hua Cheng kneel to anyone. Releasing his wrist, Xie Lian smiles and waves his hand to shoo away Hua Cheng’s concern.

“No need, no need,” he says. “It’s only a little sore, it’ll be all better by morning.”

Hua Cheng hums, lips briefly thinning, and then he reaches out to draw Xie Lian’s wrist into his hands. His slender palms cradle Xie Lian’s wrist like something delicate and precious, a flowering branch or a fine blade. They’re cool where they cup the back of his arm, chilly enough to make his skin pebble up in goose flesh despite the hot spring day. His thumbs, when he presses them into the meat of Xie Lian’s arm, however, are firm and sure. A little gasp escapes Xie Lian.

“Oh,” he says.

Lifting his gaze, Hua Cheng peers up at him under his lashes but doesn’t still his hands.

“That feels good, San Lang. Thank you,” Xie Lian says with a smile.

Hua Cheng’s lips quirk up at the corners, as if pleased, even as he ducks his head to focus on the methodical massage.

“It’s just something I picked up,” he says nonchalantly, and Xie Lian puffs out a breath of amusement.

The skills Hua Cheng just happens to have picked up are so numerous and varied that it seems little wonder he could trounce those thirty-three gods. For a moment, Xie Lian wonders if Hua Cheng knows even as much as Jun Wu. A flash of guilt has him quickly shoving away the thought, shamed at thinking so little of his benefactor.

“Ah San Lang must be most popular in Ghost City,” Xie Lian teases instead, “giving massages to anyone he likes.”

“I only like this gege,” Hua Cheng replies with a grin.

That silences Xie Lian. He’s used to being desired or respected or wanted. In his first life, he had dozens of marriage proposals his parents tried to broker, and in the intervening centuries, he’s had a hundred propositions from strangers and acquaintances. He’s good at shrugging them off with a bland smile and polite word. He’s not used to being liked. He’s not used to the shameless, sincere way Hua Cheng will say such things—as if he really does just enjoy spending time with Xie Lian, whether it’s crossing the desert to unravel a conspiracy in the Heavenly Court or helping an old grandma make her way home in Puqi Village.

He’s not sure what to do with it, this easy and abundant affection. Replying in the same fashion, saying “this gege likes San Lang, too” makes his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and his ears burn. His stomach squirms. He can’t even scold Hua Cheng for being insincere, because then he’ll turn that smile up at him again and say something like he had that first night after Banyue, saying he was the most sincere person Xie Lian would ever meet.

“Ah Lang Ying should be home soon,” he says instead, seizing the first thought to cross his mind.

Hua Cheng stiffens, his thumb pressing into the meat of Xie Lian’s arm. His lips thin, and Xie Lian has to suppress a bubble of amusement. Lang Ying has tight-lipped about his feelings toward Hua Cheng, but the two of them resemble nothing so much as two tigers whose territories intersect when they are left in the same space. When he spies them in one of their wary silences, Xie Lian never knows whether to laugh or cry.

“Ah, do you really dislike him so much, San Lang?” he asks. “I know he’s very quiet, but it’s really only because of how he’s been bullied and not out of any kind of conspiracy. He really is a good kid, I promise.”

“Gege is too generous,” Hua Cheng mutters, but he puffs out a breath through pursed lips as he switches to Xie Lian’s other arm. “If it troubles gege so much, this one will do better.”

Huffing out a laugh, Xie Lian shakes his head. He doesn’t understand why Hua Cheng so willingly gives himself over to Xie Lian’s unworthy hands. It makes his heart seize both with awe and fear, like he might trip and shatter such precious trust. He reaches over now to poke Hua Cheng in the middle of his forehead with his free hand.

“San Lang,” he scolds. “You don’t have to agree with me one everything. You wouldn’t start liking Mu Qing just because I asked, would you?”

As expected, Hua Cheng’s expression darkens and his brows furrow.

“The Sweeping General can go fu—”

He stops abruptly, pauses, and clears his throat.

“No,” he says simply, and Xie Lian bursts into laughter.

He’d been so fierce, expression so stormy, before he caught himself. Hua Cheng normally carries himself with such elegance and composure, looking as graceful as a painting even when he’s sweating out in the yard. Hearing a slip into more crass language doesn’t take away from his image only fills Xie Lian with overwhelming endearment.

“To be fair,” Xie Lian says wryly, “unless he’s changed his cultivation path, Mu Qing really can’t go fuck much of anything.”

Hua Cheng looks up, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly in surprise.

“Gege,” he says, a little squeaky.

Lifting his sleeve to hide his mouth, Xie Lian sniggers at the shocked look even as Hua Cheng’s eyes narrow and lips quirk up. He so rarely surprises Hua Cheng; it’s a funny victory when he succeeds.

“Sorry, sorry,” he giggles. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Gege just likes to tease this one,” Hua Cheng sniffs, but the smile still lighting his eyes soothes any worry Xie Lian might have had about really bothering him.

Grinning, Xie Lian tucks his hands into his sleeves and leans against his thighs. Still kneeling at the foot of the stairs, Hua Cheng is the same height as him for once, and so when Hua Cheng looks at him, Xie Lian is hit with the full force of the fondness and delight in Hua Cheng’s eyes. His stomach gives a funny flip, something fizzy and unnamed sparking down his arms.

“I would never dream of teasing the renowned Hua Chengzhu,” Xie Lian replies, mostly for the way Hua Cheng wrinkles his nose.

“Hm,” Hua Cheng says, narrowing his eyes.

Xie Lian grins back at him. The sparks along his skin have settled into something heady and golden in his chest as Hua Cheng makes no sign of moving from this spot, kneeling before Xie Lian and looking at him with all his remarkable attention. For centuries, Xie Lian has shied away from being the center of attention, to being highlighted on any stage—but under Hua Cheng’s warm regard, he finds himself holding still, tentatively unfurling in its light.

“I thought gege’s cultivation prohibited all thoughts of such things,” Hua Cheng says.

Xie Lian shrugs.

“Impure thoughts are discouraged,” he says, “but thoughts are not actions. The only risk to one’s cultivation would arise from fixation on such thoughts that they disturbed one’s mind.”

He pauses and casts a sidelong look at Hua Cheng, amused.

“Saying ‘fuck’ won’t affect my cultivation,” he clarifies.

Shifting to lean back on the steps, Hua Cheng puffs out a breath.

“It might affect mine,” he mutters, but it’s quiet enough that Xie Lian isn’t sure he was meant to hear.

For a few moments, they sit there in comfortable quiet, watching as the setting sun dyes the shrine’s courtyard gold and amber. Contentment is a warm weight through Xie Lian’s chest, like a heavy quilt draped across his shoulders. Leaning forward with his arms pressed to his thighs, he’s close enough to feel Hua Cheng’s hair lift with the breeze and brush against his arm. It’s shorter than in his true form and mostly pulled up in a high bun, but tendrils have escaped and flutter in the evening wind.

On impulse, Xie Lian slips one of his hands out of his sleeve to reach over and tuck a piece behind Hua Cheng’s ear. Hua Cheng looks up in surprise, turning toward Xie Lian as if his name had been called. Xie Lian can’t help smiling as he tucks his hand back into his sleeve.

“I don’t think San Lang has worn this skin around me before,” he comments.

Hua Cheng hums and looks down at himself as if he hadn’t noticed which body he wore today. The thought causes a flicker of amusement to catch behind Xie Lian’s ribs. This one isn’t so different from his skin as San Lang, but it’s a little older, with sharper cheekbones and a shorter chin.

“It’s new,” Hua Cheng admits. “If gege prefers another, I can change.”

Closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of the sun, Xie Lian shakes his head. A smile still curves his lips.

“I like all San Lang’s forms,” he says peaceably.

In truth, his favorite is Hua Cheng’s true form, but as he once told Hua Cheng, that has little to do with what he actually looks like and more with the fact that he’s willing to trust Xie Lian with it. For nearly the same reason, a bubble of pleasure rises in Xie Lian’s chest at the thought that he’s the first to see this skin.

He opens his eyes, frowning in thought. Casting a sidelong look at Hua Cheng, he hesitates and bites his bottom lip.

“Ah San Lang, could I ask a question?” he asks. “If it’s too personal, of course you don’t have to answer.”

Hua Cheng tilts his head back, leaning so that he can smile up at Xie Lian reassuringly.

“Gege can ask this one anything,” he says.

“Ah it’s just…your other forms have both eyes but your true form,” Xie Lian starts before embarrassment flushes his face with heat. What is he thinking, asking such a prying question? He really has become a nosey old man! “Ah forget it, forget it, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer, really.”

Hua Cheng snorts, and when Xie Lian peeks through the fingers he’s clapped over his face, Hua Cheng is grinning. His sharp little canines peek out, and his eyes narrow in laughter. Xie Lian groans and covers his face back up.

“Can I see with both eyes?” Hua Cheng guesses. He gives another quiet laugh. “No, it’s just an illusion.”

Peeling his fingers away from his face, Xie Lian looks down at him curiously. He’d guessed as much—Hua Cheng tends to stick to his right side, keeping his left eye nearer Xie Lian, and in his true form, his eyepatch covered his right—but he can’t quell the curiosity that rises in him at having it confirmed.

“It’s less ugly than the real thing,” Hua Cheng says casually, as if guessing the question that Xie Lian doesn’t quite have the face to ask. “Better for going out.”

Xie Lian can’t help frowning at that, bothered by the implication that anyone would insult or make a fuss about Hua Cheng’s true form. No matter what skin he wears, he is charming and handsome, and Xie Lian would like to have a conversation with anyone who might say otherwise.

“San Lang is never ugly,” he mutters since he can’t go interrogate strangers over Hua Cheng’s appearance.

A smile slips over Hua Cheng’s face, more genuine than the look he’d worn a moment ago. It’s softer, more in his eyes than his lips.

“Gege is too generous,” he says, but it’s gentler than when he said it earlier, less mutinous. Stretching his arms behind his head, he hitches his shoulders in a little shrug. “As long as it doesn’t trouble gege, I don’t mind.”

“Hm,” Xie Lian says, gaze catching on the slender column of Hua Cheng’s throat.

He swallows and drags his eyes away. Hua Cheng really is too handsome to think so lowly of himself. Xie Lian can’t imagine anyone looking at him and seeing anything other than beauty.

The gate creaks open, and Lang Ying’s skinny frame slinks in through the opening. Smiling, Xie Lian pulls his hand from his sleeve to wave a greeting. Lang Ying’s gaze skitters toward Hua Cheng before returning to Xie Lian. He gives a little wave and hunches in on himself as he walks toward the shrine.

“Welcome home, Lang Ying,” Xie Lian says.

Lang Ying makes a little noise, ducking his head.

“Hi, Xie-daozhang,” he mumbles, “and Hua Chengzhu.”

Hua Cheng hums in answer. When Xie Lian glances over, he’s still reclined against the stairs, but his shoulders have tightened and lips thinned. Suppressing a laugh, Xie Lian reminds himself that he did say Hua Cheng doesn’t need to worry about changing his mind about Lang Ying. Maybe it’s just a ghost thing.

“Liu-furen sent this for you, daozhang,” Lang Ying says, pulling a box from his sleeve.

Inside is a little circle of buns, pinched into tidy twists and still warm. The sight warms Xie Lian, and he takes the box with a little ‘oh’ of surprise.  

“Oh that was too generous,” he says. “Here, wait right here and I’ll get chopsticks.”

He presses the box back into Lang Ying’s hands and hurries to grab chopsticks for each of them. When he returns, Hua Cheng has shifted to sit up and make room on the steps, and Lang Ying has perched on the very edge of the second step. They don’t seem to be speaking, but there’s less of the taut wariness that usually fills the space between them. Hiding a smile, Xie Lian folds himself down on the top step and offers them each a pair of sticks.

“Thanks, gege,” Hua Cheng says with a grin.

“Thank you, daozhang,” Lang Ying mumbles.

Snorting, Xie Lian waves his hand and gestures for Lang Ying to open the box.

“I haven’t done anything,” he laughs. “Now come, come, eat up before they go cold.”

There are four baozi in the box, pale and fat against the slatted bottom. Xie Lian can’t help sighing in pleasure as he takes a bite, the ginger stinging his tongue. Lang Ying nearly drops his, only saving it by squeezing it tight between his chopsticks. Over the months he’s spent with Xie Lian, he’s gotten a little better at holding them, but it’s clear he went years without practice.

Before Xie Lian can say anything, Hua Cheng gives a little noise of annoyance and reaches out.

“You’re holding them too far apart,” he says. “Like this, see?”

He holds up his own hand to demonstrate. Lang Ying’s eyes flicker up to his face briefly, wide-eyed with surprise, but he swallows and gives a little nod as he readjusts his hand. After a moment’s fidgeting, he picks his bun back up carefully, and Hua Cheng gives a little grunt of approval at the improved grip. Xie Lian hides his smile behind a bite of bun.

They eat in quiet until they’ve each finished. Before he can offer the last to either of them, Hua Cheng folds his chopsticks together and nudges the box toward Xie Lian.

“All yours, gege,” he says.

“Oh no,” Xie Lian says, waving his left hand. “You both worked so hard today, one of you should have it.”

Lang Ying blinks, pressing his lips together.

“Daozhang,” he says slowly, “we’re dead.”

Surprise has a bubble of noise breaking across Xie Lian’s lips, and Hua Cheng gives Lang Ying a long look before tilting his head to grin carelessly up at Xie Lian.

“He has a point, gege,” he says. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”

Huffing out a breath, Xie Lian lets them push the box back to him. He doesn’t bother protesting that he’s gone months with less to eat. Somehow, he has a feeling neither of them would be won over by that argument and that it might just make Hua Cheng’s brow furrow instead.

Neither of them make a move to get up while he nibbles through the last bun. Hua Cheng still leans back on the step, watching as Lang Ying fiddles with his chopsticks as if practicing how to hold them. Pausing with the last bite hovering before his lips, Xie Lian can’t help smiling at the two of them. Gods are supposed to be impartial and beyond worldly tethers, but sitting here with a full belly and sun warming his skin, he lets himself admit that they’re his favorite ghosts.

Lang Ying lifts his hand, frowning down at it, and Xie Lian can’t help himself. Popping the last bite into his mouth, he reaches out to ruffle Lang Ying’s hair.

“Look at you, you’re just about ready to dine in a royal court now,” Xie Lian praises.

Ghosts can’t blush, but Lang Ying ducks his head in embarrassment anyway. Xie Lian laughs, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

“Gege’s home is better than any court,” Hua Cheng says. At that, Lang Ying nods vehemently before stopping short, as if startled by agreeing with Hua Cheng. Xie Lian laughs. He’s not sure what reference Lang Ying has for such an assertion, but he’s oddly touched by his loyalty anyway.

“Ah well,” he says, breathing out a laugh. “I’d rather share with you two than any royal court.”

Hua Cheng’s eyes narrow in pleasure like a cat stroked over its nose, and Lang Ying ducks his head. It’s not quite fast enough to hide the little smile that plays at his lips. Curling his arms around the empty box on his lap, Xie Lian smiles. A ghost king, a fallen god, and an eternal fourteen-year-old—they’re not much by any outer measure, but with them beside him, he feels richer than any king.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

There’s going to be a part three to benefits right? Like I don’t think I can live without knowing the end of the story.

Conclusions? - C. Hood

Final part of the ‘Benefits?’ Series.

I had planned to release this when my hiatus ended but I have made y’all wait too long, and I was far too excited. This is my fav set of fics that I have done and I’m so glad that people liked them!

I hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading, you have my love.

Xoxo - Cas

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Against her better judgement, Y/N had listened to Youngblood as an album on repeat for weeks after it dropped. The songs were powerful, perfect even. She had relished in the sound of their voices, the way they worked their instruments perfectly. She longed for her friends every time she listened, and the pain became addictive. Yet, she found comfort in ‘Moving Along’.

Things had been extra tense since her conversation with Calum. Another week had passed, and they were in another state, the men jumping around on stage, singing their hearts out, putting on a show for all of the people who came to see them.

But... Calum wasn’t himself. He shied away from the flashes of the camera. He still sounded perfect in all of the songs, yet he was dejected. Turned in on himself almost. Shy, hurt.

Per the fans requests, she snapped many shots of Calum, adding them to the plethora of shots of the other guys. She was paid to take photos, after all. She may as well earn her money, even if she struggled to look at Calum without feeling hot tears burn at her eyes.

Moving Along started and she smiled slightly. She especially enjoyed the song, moving her feet to the high energy chorus, ignoring the sting the lyrics left in her heart.

What she didn’t expect, was to turn to take another shot of Calum, and have his eyes staring straight at her.

His verse came, and he tore his eyes away from her faster than expected, and her photo turned blurry.

“Is it bad that I’m hoping that you’re broken? Is it bad that I’m wishing you’re so broken?” His voice broke, crackling as the words danced off of his tongue.

It was subtle, not noticeable to those who didn’t know Calum. Who didn’t know his little quirks, the little aspects of his being that alluded the general public. Y/N knew.

From her position at the front of the stage, she could even see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and the way he rubbed his face on his shoulder, disguising it as an adjustment of his ear piece.

It was the second last song of their set, the collaboration with the Chainsmokers being their last, and then Calum would be off stage.

Watching Calum sing the lyrics struck a chord inside of her. The first verse was full of such anger, but as it progressed, Luke’s verse portrayed sadness. Regret. Everything Calum had been trying to tell her the other day.

The feelings were overwhelming. She was furious. She knew that there was another song for Calum to write, having heard many parts of the other songs the guys were working on, but the pieces worked themselves together in her mind.

She had her speculations, but chose to divert her thought pattern. Every time she cast her eyes on him, she felt a ache in her stomach.

For so long, she had near constant emotion flooding her eyes. She couldn’t disregard her anger.

The songs moved quickly, and she climbed on stage to get photos of the group performance to close the pre-show. Andy had already agreed to take the pics for the Chainsmokers, knowing the tenseness of the past week for her. Y/N was looking forward to escaping to her hotel room and mulling over her thoughts.

For 5 days she had been contemplating whether or not she should stay on the tour. She had savings, enough to rent an apartment in another state. She could find photography work elsewhere.

But, she also couldn’t stand to be away from Calum again. There was a sense of hopefulness existing between them. She was far too scared to grace the topic again, and history had told her enough that Calum wouldn’t attempt to converse with her about it again, but still - she had hope that she would work up the courage to move past her anger and the sadness of her broken heart.

She was looking for a new excuse to forgive him every day, and she found them. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. To tell him that she was sorry for leaving.

She couldn’t bring herself to apologise, when he pushed her away.

She worked up the courage and booked a flight. It was a week away. They had no concerts scheduled for the next two weeks, taking a small break in between states.

She had only told Andy, Alex and Drew about her news so far, knowing they would be the most relaxed. Her relationship with Drew had been near non-existent. She had been using him, but when Calum came back into her life, she could barely be in Drew’s arms without comparing them to Calum.

It was cruel of her to do so, so she made the shift to simply friends. Neither of them missed the benefits connection all too much, and their relationship was already friendly enough.

The days moved along faster than expected until she was three day’s out from leaving.

She had planned to break the news to everybody the next day, but she found that the hardest part was already done when a knock sounded on her door.

Calum was bleary eyed. It had been rare for him to be seen without blood vessels visible in his sclera, and he looked no less worse for wear now as he stood at her door.

She stood in shock when the opening revealed his figure. He looked heartbroken, the same as he did in Ashton’s hotel room a few weeks back.

She fought with herself not to embrace him.

“D’you mind if I come in?” His voice was small, making her heart feel smaller.

Her voice wouldn’t work, instead she moved her body aside to make way for his large frame. He was shrunken. His shoulders sagged slightly, his hands clasped together. A clear sign of his nervousness, to Y/N.

She could often read him like a book, and she could see that he was hurting.

She had been looking for a resolution before she left, and she couldn’t help but think that this could be it. Her stomach was vibrating from the force of butterfly wings, and she watched Calum sit carefully on the edge of her bed.

She watched how his eyes fell over the bed, settling on a familiar green blanket. He had gifted it to her a few years back, knowing she hated to use hotel linen. She adored the soft fabric, taking it everywhere when she was in unfamiliar dwellings.

She forced her eyes away from him, clearing her throat to kick her voice box into the right gear.

“What do you need-“

“You’re leaving.” He said, more of a statement than a question. Her eyes grew in size slightly. She had planned to tell them all the next day, so she couldn’t understand how he had come upon the information. “Andy is a big mouth. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. You should see how he acts when he has content that he can share. He’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas.”

He refused to meet her eyes.

“I was planning to tell you all tomorrow. My planes booked for a few days time.” She hadn’t realised that she had folded her arms, her right hand rubbing along her left elbow. “I didn’t want to leave without telling anybody. Without telling you...”

“Like you did last time?” The words were intended to be venomous, but the sniff that followed told her exactly how he was feelings.

However, her anger still flared, “You know why I did what I did.”

He nodded softly, pawing at his eyes gently, turning his head to look out the window of her room. The sun was setting, the horizon mesmerizing.

“When you first left, I was so angry.” His hands were wringing together again. “I started to hate you. I wanted you to be as broken as I was - as I am. But then...” he blinked, a tear slipping down his face as the light of golden hour washed over his sun kissed skin. “Then I wanted you back. I would get drunk, I would sit there with my phone in my hand and want to call you. I wanted to apologize every day that you were gone, but, I didn’t deserve you. Hell, I still don’t deserve you. I’m the one who said those horrible things to you.”

She stepped closer, watching the way his eyes locked on the scenery outside of her window. The picture in front of her was reminiscent of the night in Ashton’s room, except this time Calum is the one who can’t bear to look at her, for fear of breaking.

“I wanted to talk to you before I left.” She spoke honestly, brushing hair away from her eyes. No matter how hard she fought herself, she wouldn’t look away. Who knew when she would see him again, and she was falling in love with the lines of his face all over again. “I wanted to tell you why I was leaving, but... I don’t know, I was scared of telling you why I can’t stay, and finish discussing what we did that night. I couldn’t start the conversation. I guess I am now, because I can’t keep fighting with myself anymore.”

His brows furrowed, his head slowly turning towards her. “What do you mean, Y/N? What conversation?”

Surprising herself, Y/N felt the butterflies disperse. The man in front of her was Calum. Her Calum. Her best friend for years, the man who knew her inside and out. The man who broke her heart, and who pushed her away.

The pain she felt couldn’t be amplified any more. She knew she could live without Calum, but she also knew that every day would be a new kind of pain. She had decided in that moment that she couldn’t make their situation any worse than it was.

“I mean, I love you, Calum. I love you so much that being around you hurts me.” There were no tears, and her eyes were locked on his. The way his face contorted in pain, and the droplets that’s fell down his round cheeks broke her heart, but she couldn’t let her facade fall. She needed to get this out before she left. “What you said the other night, about loving me - I have wanted nothing more than to hear that for so long. But when I finally told you, you rejected me. You did more than that - you made fun of me.”

He was on his feet, face red, eyes bloodshot. “If I could take back every word I said that day, I would in a heartbeat.” His voice was cracking again, she could feel the emotion dripping from him. “Nothing hurts more than when you’re not around. Everyday since we met up again, I wake up and hope that I can do right by you but I know I can never take back what I did. The things I said to you... I hate what I did. I hate that I destroyed something so perfect. Somebody so perfect.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes once again. She wanted to fight it. She didn’t want to spend another night crying over Calum, but the tears weren’t for Calum. They were for the loss she felt. The way she sobbed at night when she wanted nothing more than his presence.

“Don’t, Cal.” She cleared her throat, stepped back. She was retreating in on herself. “Being here, with everyone, it hurts. I spent so long looking for you in somebody else, and now that you’re here, I can barely focus. Every day is like an old wound being reopened. I hear the words you said to me, remember how much it hurt. I just- I can’t be around it anymore,” her voice was a bit higher than a whisper. Neither of them dared to look at the other any longer.

“Moving Along is about you, Y/N,” He sobbed.

It was agony to see him so broken.

He had taken steps towards her and refused to pull her eyes from his face. She wanted to check for any semblance of a lie in his facade. She could read him like a book, and she needed to know his intentions before she chose her next words.

“I have loved you for as long as I have known you, Y/N. I love the way you know nothing about Star Wars, how you’re not afraid to speak your mind. I love you so much that I write countless songs about you. I cant even fucking sleep without thinking of you before. I can’t do anything without remembering the way you smell, the way you smile, the way you fucking do any little thing,” he sobbed again, breathing between his words. “I would do anything, if it means I could have you back in my arms. I would give up all I had, just to see you smile at me again, to tell me that you love me too.”

He walked up to her, hands on either side of her face, forehead against hers. Their heaving breath mixed together, and Y/N fought to keep her cries in.

“Please, Calum,” he felt her tears fall onto his hands. “You can’t want this.”

“I would give up everything, I would leave the band, the public eye, the fans for you. Y/N I would do anything you asked, just to prove to you how much I need you.” He opened his eyes, gauging her reaction. She had pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

She knew it was a horrible decision, but she kept the thought in her mind that she couldn’t make things worse and she pressed her lips against his.

Their tears fell still, the kiss soft and sad. Calum held her face as if he would slip away if not for the feeling if her skin. Her fingers clung onto his shirt so tightly, afraid that he would push her away again.

He pulled away first, eyes still closed. “If you want to leave, then I don’t want to stand in your way. I just need you to know that I have loved you for so long, Y/N, and I will love you for the rest of my life. Nobody will ever mean as much to me as you do, even if you’re not with me.”

It was as if all of the pieces fell into place. She knew what she wanted, and she knew that they had the time to do it. Once again she reminded herself, what could go wrong?

“Come with me.” She stated, more than asked.

“Sweetheart, I can’t-“

“I’m going back home. There’s just over a week until the next show. Come with me, spend some time, just us. If things go well... I’ll one back.”

“And if they don’t? What happens if we can’t get back to us?” He looked hopeful but the fear was hiding deep beneath his chocolate eyes. “I can’t lose you again, Y/N.”

She offered a small smile, raising her smaller hands to wipe the tears still on his cheeks. “Then I guess we will have to make things go well.”

~~~~~

Despite the comfort they shared in her hotel room, the first few days in L.A. were odd. Tense, but Y/N had never felt more at ease than she did in Calum’s house, her spirits hopeful and a smile on his face whenever his eyes fell on her.

By the fifth day, they were dreading returning to the tour. Y/N had decided that she would go back. They had already booked their flights to Chicago, their next stop.

For now, Y/N sat on Calum’s lounge, her eyes glued to the television as she finally allowed herself to watch Star Wars. They were on the third prequel, and Y/N was fighting back tears as she watched Anakin surrender to the dark side.

Calum was laying on his back, his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his gaze focused on her face.

He was following the curve of his nose, the slight swell of her lips as she unconsciously poured at the television. She was mesmerizing.

He couldn’t bring his eyes off of her. He knew that she was going back to the tour with him, but the thought of losing her again was terrifying. She was his oxygen, and he had spent almost a year struggling to breathe.

“If you keep starting at me, I’ll poke you in the eye. This movie is actually decent, stop distracting me.” She grumbled, pouting further when Obi-Wan and Anakin we’re battling.

“I can’t help it. I’ve missed you,” he said without thinking. The past few days had been about honestly, rekindling and catching up. He saw no reason to hold the truth back now.

His words elicited a smile from her, a slight blush peppering her cheeks. “Suck a dick, hood.”

He snorted, “But that’s your job.”

Her fingers were running through his hair absentmindedly; her heart beating fast. This was Calum. Her Calum. The same Calum that knew her inside and out, yet, he still made her nervous.

The last year has been a rollercoaster, but now, she loved him, and he knew, and he loved her as well. He was free from his fear, knowing that nobody else could amount to the woman that Y/N is.

“I love you,” she whispered, casting her eyes down on him. Her smile was small, adorable and it forced a grin to split across Calum’s face.

“I love you,” he answered. He pulled her hand from his head, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “What do you say to getting some Mexican food and binge watching Friday the 13th with your favourite guy tonight?”

She deadpanned, blinking at the tv screen. “How can I do that? Ashton isn’t in L.A.”

“Fine, no Mexican food for you,” Calum huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms in protest.

Y/N pouted, latching onto him like a koala and peppering kisses onto his cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry! I need Mexican food!”

It was safe to say, Y/n got Mexican food that night.

Friends with benefits relationships are always the most dangerous. It is so easy to develop feelings, sharing such an intimate part of yourself with a person, both as a friend and a lover.

Sometimes things are rocky; but other times, the benefits outweigh the negatives.

Tag list: @starshonerose @mantlereid @another-lonely-heart @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @poetnstuff @snookiebrookie @oyesmendes

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

*

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

*

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

[sleepysailorghost]

flowers in your hair

The flowers are plentiful here, the sunshine warm and the day pleasant. It was serene here.

There was almost nothing like this in the wasteland. Anywhere else, this would be a trap. Just as they started to relax, something would attack, or a thousand rigged explosives would detonate.

Only, not this time. This seemed to be a place hidden from the world, not a fragment of the old world ravaged by nukes. Untouched and timeless.

Tracey breathed softly, threading her fingers through the soft soil. For once her geiger counter was silent. With her enhanced eye, she couldn't see any dangers. A warm, familiar hand settled on top of her own.

"Decorum prohibits it, but I feel like being close to you." her lover said, sitting beside her. She leaned on his shoulder. Neither of them were wearing their heavy armor-there was no need for it here. Power armor had been set aside for flannels. Tracey had put away the majority of her weapons, only her handgun was still on her person.

"I feel the same."She said. Danse raised her hand up to his lips as if to kiss it, only to be interrupted.

"Ugh, get a room!" MacCready whined, as if he wasn't laying half on Tracey's lap.

"Oh, let them be cute and mushy together! It'll make for a good story. i wish we could print pictures in the paper, like they did in old world papers!"She gestured at Tracey and Danse, as if targeting them in a camera. "Because let me tell you, this would sell a million papers!"

"How about no?" Tracey said, looking bemused at the situation. Danse set her hand down, not fond of public displays of affection. He didn't let go off her hand, though.

"Very immature, MacCready." Danse responded gruffly, a little embarrased. Maccready sprung to his feet.

"Noo!" he rejected.

"Yeah, sure." Piper said.

"Aw, whatever. Who needs your approval anyway?" He settled back onto Tracey's lap awkwardly, and somewhat crankily. Tracey ran her fingers through his hair fondly. "Ah stop that, boss! You're getting my hair dirty."

"Fresh round of lemonaid for everyone?"Codsworth floated in, two cups already at the ready.

"Sure, Codsworth. I'm sure everyone would appreciate that." Tracey answered. Codworth busied himself with passing out pre-war cups filled with juice. It was similar to lemonaid-citrus plants were too hardy to die off entirely. Not quite the lemons she remembered, but really, how often did she notice? Still lemons, they just tasted a little different.

She drank the lemonaid slowly, savoring the taste. Her throat was more dry than she thought. The cup clanked gently against her holotags, and she leaned back on her other hand, winding it into the flowers.

The flowers were golden and the stems were such a vibrant green. They were some sort of marrigold, or maybe a yellow daisy. Look, Tracey was a detective, not a florist. It seemed like they were healthier than even pre-war plants.

She remembered the days she and her sister had spent in flower patches like these. Those afternoons spent playing in the farmhouse yard, making daisy chains and memories. Within a few years, her sister and mother would die and her father would abandon her. No one could have predicted any of that, but it didn't stop her from over analyzing, looking for any sign of her sister's illness.

How unlucky did a person have to be to outlive not one, but two families? And their entire world?

Part of her wondered if she would outlive the one she was trying to build. She hoped not, knowing that trying to move on if she lost Danse and MacCready would kill her.

Danse took her hand again, holding it in both of his, pulling her back into the present.

How lucky had she been to be given three different families? Sure, the time she had spent with them was shorter than it should have been, but it was time that she treasured.

Taking her hand back from Danse, she picked up a flower. Then another, piling them on MacCready.

"Stop putting this shi-stuff on me."

"Jusy hold it for a second. I'm doing something." MacCready was a brother to Tracey, sure, but he was whiny sometimes. Taking two in her hands, she bent one under and over. Her hands were clumsy with particular movement-it had been a while since she had made a flower crown.

"Feeling creative today, Miss Tracey?" Codsworth quipped.

"Whatcha doing there, Blue?" Piper asked, looking on in confusion.

"You'll see."

Danse watched the movement of her hands as she added to the crown and weaved more flowers in. She roughly guessed out how large it would need to be and finished it. Gently, partially because she didn't want to jostle MacCready, raised her arms up placed the crown on Danse's head.

"Do you like it?" The paladin was flushed, a healthy pink glowing on his face. It was an intensely beautiful sight. Danse was an exceptionally handsome man, and it was complimented by the golden flower crown.

"Hey, Blue, I think you broke him."

"It's beautiful, Tracey." Danse finally responded. "Thank you."

"Hey, where's mine?" MacCready said, complaining playfully. Danse glares at him for a second, still wearing the flower crown as Tracey gathers more flowers for the craft. Just as she had the first time, she began. Soon enough, she had finished MacCready's crown.

"Sit up,"she nudged him.

"Aw Tracey, you didn't have to. Well, since you already made it..."

Rolling her eyes, she placed the flower crown on his head. Just then, quick hands grabbed it from him.

"Piper!" He shouted, springing to his feet like a Jack in the box. "I'm gonna get you!"

He and Piper ran around, the reporter trying to keep the flower crown from him, and the sniper trying to get it back.

Even Paladin Danse couldn't stifle a small chuckle at the sight.

Clumsily, his own hands retraced the same movements Tracey had used. His technique was unpracticed, but he imagined few people had the luxury to do this sort of thing on a regular basis.

He placed the crown on his lovers head, then caressed her cheek with his hand.

"For you." He almost whispered, drawing close to her. He pressed his lips to hers, pulled her into his arms. "I care very deeply for you."

Tracey cuddled into his arms, drawn to his warmth despite the warm day.

"I care deeply about you as well. I love you." The ways she said was almost like a confession, something she needed to be reprimanded for. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

He didn't promise that nothing would happen. To do that would he a lie, and he did not want to lie to Tracey.

"You are so beloved, my dear." he said simply, kissing her cheek with chapped lips. Then again, slightly below, and again, dappling her cheek with many kisses. "I love you."

"Ha, look who's laughing now?" MacCready boasted, holding his flower crown up like some sort of trophy. "You're just jealous anyways."

"Jealous of what? Your immaturity?" Piper responded.

"No, my fabulous personality, charming wit, and great hair."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you're very popular with the ladies."

"Being popular with women isn't important, Robert." Danse said, like that was some sort of comforting point. "It is more vital to show strong character and good morals."

"Yeah? What peice of Brotherhood propaganda did you get that from?"Piper sniped, another quip readied about how she didn't know Brotherhood soldiers even knew about sex, being that they just assembled new soldiers. Then she thought about how he had been kicked out of the Brotherhood for being a synth, and decided not to.

"Well, actually it's from-"Then Danse came to the realization that the reporter was ridiculing him, and cut off abruptly. "Never mind."

"I'll have you know, Piper, I'm plenty good with women. They can't get enough of me."

"Sure, not everyone digs the whole dirty-rat-mercenary look though."

"Geex, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"MacCready asked. "Or are you just sore that I caught you earlier?"

"No, I let you win! I was bored of it anyway."

Tracey fiddled with the switches on her pip-boy idily while they argued, flipping from the statistics tab to the equipment tab and back again. She smiled to herself as she poked through the notes on her pip-boy.

Taking Danse's hand, she helped pull him up.

"Ready to go home?"

[aion-rsa]

The Nevers Star Laura Donnelly Answers Burning Finale Questions

https://ift.tt/3uSp933

The following contains major spoilers for The Nevers episode 6.

The star of HBO sci-fi series The Nevers has never shied away from the fact that the show’s sixth episode would be a big one.

“Six is an extraordinary episode,” Donnelly (who plays Amalia True) told Den of Geek prior to the series premiere. “It provides a lot of the answers to the questions that the audience might have. It seemed like a very natural cut-off point.”

Whether episode 6, titled “True”, is a natural cut-off point remains to be seen. Due to the coronavirus pandemic suspending production, the show’s initial 10-episode first season order was shortened to six and “Part 2” (containing six more episodes for a total of 12) is set to arrive at a later date. It’s hard to argue though that episode 6 is anything but extraordinary. 

Read more

TV

How HBO’s The Nevers Explores a Very Different Vision of Victorian Girl Power

By Lacy Baugher

“True” doesn’t merely provide some answers to long-running Nevers questions – it basically upends the premise of the entire show. It turns out that creator Joss Whedon’s initial vision for The Nevers wasn’t merely Victorian ladies with supernatural powers, but that of a much larger story about the human race on the edge of collapse and a dimension-hopping alien species intent on helping us.

Whedon departed the project during the production delay so when the show returns it will be up to new showrunner Philippa Goslett to shepherd this bold new vision. To get ready for that, Den of Geek spoke with Donnelly about the many revelations of episode 6 and what the future of The Nevers entails. 

For those looking for a more complete rundown of just what happened in this truly wild episode, check out our explainer over here. But here Donnelly does an admirable job of unwinding “True’s” many twists. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Den of Geek: I participated in the press day interviews before the season premiered. Now I’m wondering what was that press day experience like on your end? People ask you “So what’s your show about? What’s going on?” And then you just kind of have to sit back and lie!

Laura Donnelly: It’s the most frustrating thing ever. I wanted to go into some details but honestly it felt like I could say nothing without unraveling an entire six-episode arc. People would ask me “How did you research to get into the role?” I can’t say that I researched what it might be like to train in the army, what combat would be like with PTSD, things like that. So I’m left going, “Oh, I just read some books on what it’s like in Victorian times.” It made me sound like a really lame researcher. 

You mentioned back in those pre-air interviews that when you first had the meeting for this show, Joss gave you kind of the “whole picture.” Was this episode what that meeting was referring to? And what was your reaction like when you first heard it all?

Well, it was obviously then that I realized I was not dealing with Victorian X-Men. (That meeting) introduced the idea of having an entire backstory of somebody who has been through so much and then gets thrown into this situation and has to deal with it. I just knew that that was going to be such a deep dive into this character and that there was going to be so much to be able to explore with it. Then it was bringing in the elements of how the show is relevant to today, not just in an allegorical sense, but literally – how they are trying to go back in time to make sure that humans do better.

I couldn’t believe that a mind or a show could hold that much. And I knew that I had to be a part of it. What blew me away about (episode) six was that I didn’t know the details, how the story would be told and everything. Now I just can’t believe that with this single hour of television, they managed to tell all of these separate stories with such beauty and nuance. And not just with a ton of exposition, but instead, showing these things in the most clear way possible and that you find out so much in such a short period of time. 

Definitely. The first chapter in this episode is really filled with futuristic sci-fi jargon and there is very, very little expository dialogue. Maybe this is a non-sequitur, but have you ever seen the movie Primer? It kind of reminded me of that in that sense.

No.

It’s a time travel movie made by Shane Carruth a while back (Editor’s Note: 2004). And all of the dialogue is just complete jargon that only an expert in theoretical physics would understand for basically the whole runtime, but the audience is still able to pick up what’s happening for the most part. This episode just reminded me of that.

Yeah. I love it for that. I love it for the fact that it rewards intensive viewing. It’s not the show that you can watch while you’re scrolling on your phone. If you are willing to just buy into that, you realize that on first watch you get the important information: the Galanthi are an alien race that are here to help humanity from itself, and that Stripe is Amalia. Then everything after that the more passion you bring to watching it, the more you get out of it.

I finished my first re-watch right before this interview and I think I finally understand just now how and why Stripe got sent back in time by the Galanthi. Because things are too far gone now. The Galanthi are finally going to really help and their version of really helping is just “We’ve got to go back. Humanity needs a fresh start.”

Yeah! I loved that there were things that I realized from watching it that I hadn’t picked up in the reading of the script. When they suddenly realize that the portal is an exit one and not an entrance one, that makes Knitter (Ellora Torchia) in that moment lose all hope. But what you come to realize is that that is not a moment of despair actually. You realize that the reason that they had an exit portal was because they had a plan and they weren’t coming back. You see that with the Victorian artifacts in the room. In fact, this plan was brought together with the scientists. They were working on that together. That was only something that I caught from watching it.

What was it like watching Claudia Black play your character?

I thought she did a really, really beautiful job. It was strange for me because I wanted them to shoot that before I shot my Stripe stuff, so that I would have a lot more to go on to replicate when I first land in the asylum. But it just couldn’t work out that way and they had to shoot all of Claudia and the future stuff after I’d already shot in the asylum. I went in and watched a lot of their rehearsals and got some video footage of their rehearsals and stuff so I had a good idea of what it was that she was doing with that, but it was just amazing to watch the whole thing put together. It’s like the final piece of a puzzle that I didn’t even have any say in. I was just kind of glad really that it matched up to what I had in my head, because I’d been having to make a lot of guesses when it came to playing Stripe in the asylum. 

It occurs to me now that for five episodes you’ve been playing a woman with a North American accent doing an old-timey Victorian British accent. What was that process like?

It allowed a little freedom actually because, on her part, it’s a learned accent. I didn’t have to be hugely strict about the rules of what would be particularly Victorian. I allowed myself to bring a little more modernity to how she would phrase something. I kind of hoped that people would pick up on the idea that Amalia seemed, in some indistinguishable way, slightly anachronistic. I also then kind of hoped that there would even be the odd person going, “Oh, well her accent’s slipped there, she got it wrong there” or whatever, because I kind of felt once you then see episode six, they’d see why. 

When you think of the character in your head, what name comes to mind first: Molly, Zephyr, Amalia, or Stripe?

Amalia, actually, but the second one that would come would be Stripe. It’s funny, “Zephyr” is the last one I think of and I think that that is probably true of Amalia as well in that it is so far pushed down. It is so far into her past for so many different reasons. It would be too painful to have all of the implications that the Zephyr name carries in the forefront of her mind. In her soldier way of being, she just needs to constantly move forward. 

Again, back before the season premiered when I spoke to you and Ann (Skelly), my first question was about characters’ names and how they were a little odd. Perhaps that was a bit prescient because in the far flung future names are sacred. What was your impression of that concept and why do you think names have become sacred?

I wonder if it’s just the idea that it’s the only little bit of recognizable humanity left for them. I think that people will always find a way of making something sacred. You need what is sacred to you at times when things are most difficult. You’re looking at a human race that doesn’t even have real food. Everything is engineered and they can’t even breathe the air outside. The sacred can be very important in moments of deep, deep despair like that. A name is something that everybody can have, and a name is something that everybody can therefore keep for themselves.

At the same time, it also speaks to the idea that everybody then is involved in that war on one side or the other. It doesn’t seem to me that you’ve got the army and then you’ve got citizens. It seems to me like everybody at that point in humanity as they’re coming towards the end is on one side or the other and is fighting. That means that everybody is being called by their rank, and so Stripe is known as Stripe That also makes a name more sacred because it’s the part of you that isn’t involved in this war. It’s the last vestige of true humanity that you might have left.

Any updates on the production process for part 2? I believe last time you had yet to see any scripts. 

I’ve had lots of conversations with (new showrunner) Philippa Goslett and with Ilene (Landress), our producer but I have as yet not read a script. I’m just waiting, but I’m in prep. I know enough about the next couple of episodes to know what fights I need to learn and things like that.

I cannot imagine being in Philippa’s shoes right now. Showrunner changes happen all the time but this is one of the more unusual narrative circumstances to fall into, I think.

Absolutely. I mean, the show is wild, but I think that, whatever else happened, we were so fortunate that episode six became this very natural break point in the story for obvious reasons. So much has been wrapped up. I feel like the world is built and the characters are established, you know. It really could go pretty much anywhere from here and it just needs somebody’s brilliant imagination to do that.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Now that the real plot behind the curtain was revealed, does the name “The Nevers” have any more added significance?

Not that I’m aware of, no. I think the only thing that I have to go on about the name is something that Joss said several years back about the idea that these people never should have existed. They’re anomalies or even the more pejorative term – abominations.

Do you think future seasons and storylines of the show will take things past Victorian England and inch closer to that dystopian present?

I mean, I would love for it to. It makes sense to me that it started in Victorian times because that was a key moment of change in so many different ways in how the world communicates. There are kind of several revolutions going on at once, technological being one of the main ones. But it would be really interesting then to see how that progresses, and the issues at hand get dealt with, depending on the social aspects of different countries or different decades. The key to all of that is can you find a really cool way of doing it? Because my head isn’t able to come up with that. Whatever keeps the storyline the most interesting, keeps the characters true to themselves, and doesn’t jump the shark, I’m well up for.

The Nevers season 1 part 2 is awaiting a release date at HBO.

The post The Nevers Star Laura Donnelly Answers Burning Finale Questions appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3uUOxF8

[sooghostwriter]

The Bee and the Fly

Pairings: Do Kyung Soo x OC

Genre: Mature,  Romance, AU, childhood friends, fluff, a tiny bit of angst because being a teenager is hard. 

Summary: Kyung Soo and Eunji have been friends since always. Growing up together, finding themselves, following their dreams. 

Part 1: Growing up. 

Everybody called him Bee since he was five. Everybody called her Fly since she was four.

Kyung Soo got that nickname because he was cute and tiny like a bee and if he wasn’t eating he was always doing something. Helping his mom, playing with his dad or watching TV with his brother. But most of the time he was playing with her.

Eunji got that nickname because she had big eyes and she was everywhere. Not gossiping or being noisy but watching. Since then she was always interested in watching and hearing. Learn from the way adults behave. What they did, why they did it. She wasn’t nosy, but she always asked when she didn’t understand something.

She didn’t have a single childhood memory without Kyung Soo.

In the memory where she broke her right arm, Kyung Soo was calling his mom for help and grabbing her other hand, cleaning her tears and telling her it was going to be ok.

On her birthday she wouldn’t blow the candles if he wasn’t sitting next to her. And if Kyung Soo liked one of her gifts, she would give it to him.  

Movies at her place. Games at his. Summer afternoons at the park. Winter afternoons at the food market close to their house. New year’s together looking at the fireworks. Kyung Soo would cover her ears and she would never let go of his hand because he had a special talent to get lost in the crowd. Christmas where she would fight every kid who insisted on telling him that Santa didn’t exist.

Her entire childhood she had this constant presence next to her that was able to tone down any fear. His cuteness always gave her a sense of trust. If he said that everything was going to be alright, it was because it was going to be alright.

On her first day at school, Kyung Soo was grabbing her hand and taking her to her classroom, acting as a mediator so she could talk with her new classmates and checking on her every hour through the door. She didn’t acknowledge his presence because she wanted to look brave and secure in his eyes. Not as if she was looking at the door all the time to see him and get that short burst of relief. By the end of the day, he congratulated her on how brave she was, and she felt like twirling around in joy.

On school days she would have breakfast at his house since his dad would drive them to school. Kyung Soo would have dinner at hers, since his mom and dad would arrive late from work.

They were friends, their families were friends. A big family of seven.

They went to the same school. And although he was one grade higher, it was as if they were classmates.

Their parents always commented on how weird it was that such different kids could get along so well. Because they were.

She preferred solitude and he always had friends around. They loved him. She had a handful of friends, and it included her mom and Kyung Soo.

She had good grades and Kyung Soo always did just enough. He just didn’t like school. At home, she had the habit of studying, but he preferred to occupy himself with his acrylics.

That was one of her memories too. Kyung Soo painting, Kyung Soo drawing, Kyung Soo making cute animals with his Play-Doh. Everybody was always in awe of his talent.

She was the ‘smart one’. Her parents always bragged about how she learned to read and write in pre-school. How eloquent she was. How imaginative she was when playing with her dolls.

By the time he was seven, Kyung Soo’s path was very clear. He was going to be an artist.

By the time she was six, Eunji’s path was very clear. She was going to be a writer. She only told Kyung Soo though, scared that people would make fun of her. She has always been afraid that no one would understand, so she always kept everything for herself. She wanted to write books like the ones she read at that short age. Stories about animals making friends with kids, or travels through dreamlike places.

When she had issues socializing, Kyung Soo was there. First day at school or games at the park. Despite being in a different class, he was there with her at least during one recess of the day, and at lunchtime, he always sat with her. When the mean girl from school asked them if they were dating, they both answered no. When she asked if they liked each other they both answered yes. She looked at him giggling and he giggled back. They were in first and second grade, young and innocent enough to think that liking was a friendship thing. Of course she liked him. He was one of the few people she enjoyed spending time with. He was calm when needed or an endless resource of fun. They knew each other since always, of course she liked him. As she liked her mom and dad. Philia love was the name. She read it once in a book.

It was a common childhood story. That typical story where they were each other’s first kiss. Of course they completely forgot about it, but his mom had an adorable picture of Kyung Soo sitting in the swing as she grabbed his round face and kissed him. There was a second picture with her still holding his face and they were both laughing. She saw the pictures again a lot later when she was seventeen. As soon as she saw it, she felt so much jealousy. She was so jealous of the Eunji from the picture. She was fearless.

That’s how their first decade of life went by. 

 She remembered quite clearly when in middle school they began to part from each other. There wasn’t a specific moment, at least she didn’t remember one, but it was around that age that they began to change. She began taking English classes every other afternoon after class, so they didn’t walk home together anymore. She also made a new group of friends there, and they would often meet on Saturdays for food and games. Especially with Junmyeon.

She never introduced them to Kyung Soo. These were her friends. And they were all obsessed with Harry Potter, and they read Stephen King behind their parents backs and they listened to cringy emo music. Things that were of her interest, not his.

Kyung Soo went through some changes too. His brother went to do his service, so he grew more attached to his friends and his parents. The art club of the school got quite popular too, so they were always away during the weekends at local art fairs showing their work with other schools from around the country.

He stopped coming to her house for movies or dinner. She asked him once why he did “My mom works closer to home now, so she can come home early enough to cook for us…and I guess we are ok like this, watching movies with our friends and not ourselves” She nodded in understanding. She thought the same. Kyung Soo always liked to watch dramatic movies, meanwhile, she enjoyed stupid comedies. She liked her drama in books, not in movies. After that she walked home and didn’t think about it for a while until her head hit the pillow, and a horrible melancholy took over her. Now, much older, she knew what that feeling meant, that night she was unable to understand the pain in her chest.

Everything changed. It was as if now they were only classmates, not friends anymore.

They were a set when kids and now they grew apart. It was normal, and she wouldn’t have to change it, she was having fun. Her group of friends was small, but she felt included and she achieved that all by herself. But there were days when she missed him desperately. Or maybe she just missed the simpler days.

When he got into high school things changed again. That summer she began dating Junmyeon, her friend from English class, her right hand, and accomplice in every fun quest they had with their group of friends.

Kyung Soo began dating one of his classmates. He was always very popular between the female students, so she wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t a huge fan of hers, but if Kyung Soo liked her, IT was good enough. They were still in that plateau face of their friendship. 

Highschool brought them a bit closer. Now they had the same teachers so that always gave them fresh gossip to talk about, but that was pretty much all. Junmyeon became the Kyung Soo of her present. He would visit her on Sunday before lunch and would sit on her bed watching some anime as she was finishing one of her stories for the writing club. Then he would read it and tell her if it was easy to understand.

Sometimes Kyung Soo would come over to bring something to her mother or father. He would stay around for a little while. They would talk about their respective partners. His relationship wasn’t going very well. Hers was good and she was having a lot of fun with Junmyeon. He always told her that he was happy for her. He was relieved that she found someone like him. 

“And if he does something to you, I have a sock and a can ready for him” He wasn’t joking, she knew it. Kyung Soo never shied away from violence when it came to protecting his friends, if she still was that. 

“Thanks, just don’t aim for the face, it would be a terrible loss” 

Then they would laugh about something and then he would leave. At school they didn’t speak at all during the breaks because Kyung Soo split those moments between his friends and his girlfriend. During lunch, they didn’t sit together anymore, but whenever he didn’t eat his dessert, he would give it to her.

When Kyung Soo was in 12th grade he went through other changes. He broke up with his girlfriend and began focusing on his studies since he made the decision of entering a good university to study art. The art club at school wasn’t enough for him so he began attending different workshops. She knew all these through her gossiping mom.  

 That same year, she went through some big changes too. Not her, but her surroundings. One afternoon her parents gave her the news that they were getting a divorce and her dad was moving out of the house. The relationship between the two of them hasn't been the same in the last two years. They weren’t a couple that fought a lot, but the silence sometimes was unbearable. She wished she could break the tension by breaking a plate or smashing the door close. Shouting at each other and ignoring each other had the same amount of violence and it anguished her to the bones.  So, the news of her parents gave her some relief.  They were doing what was better for them. But the uncertainty terrified her. Not knowing how her relationship with her father would be from now on. Would they date other people and get married again? Was she going to have brothers or sisters in the near future? Where would her dad live? Who would cook for him?

He left immediately that night. He hugged his soon to be ex-wife and then hugged her. She jolted when he cradled in his arms. It felt as if he was cutting some ties with her too. Not all of them, but she knew that starting from there, her dad wasn’t going to be part of her everyday life.

He closed the door behind him, and she and her mom stayed seated for a long time in complete silence. She could hear her mom’s brain trying to find the right words, something that they hadn’t told her before to console her, but she couldn’t. How could she? She was the one that had run out of love for that man, but Eunji didn’t. She still loved her dad, but he left anyway.

She wasn’t mad towards either of them. She wasn’t disappointed or scared. She was sad. Just sad. For the three of them. She told this to her mom, but she didn’t seem to quite get it, so she just went to her room, running away from that charged room. All of her life she dealt with her emotions alone. Mostly because she never felt strongly about anything. She was never too angry, too sad, too happy. She never built up any emotion, because as the emotion was developing inside of her, she exorcised it through her writing.  Now she didn’t have the time to write, the sadness had already grown in her chest and it expanded to her neck, choking her with tears.

Eunji stood in the middle of her room and walked slowly to her bed. She felt like hiding there, under the covers and wait until her chest felt normal again. She still felt the strong grip of her father’s arms and it made her feel worse “Eunji, open” She heard a voice at her door. A voice that with the years had changed and it wasn’t as familiar as before. But the emotive notes of that voice were still the same. Worry. Worry because his friend was in pain.

It was Kyung Soo.

She didn’t know why he was there, but she didn’t care either. She needed him now. He could take care of the sadness in her chest. He always did. He always took the pain away. She opened the door with desperate hands and met his worried face. 

“Let me in, my mom told me what happened” It was a mixture of an order and a plea. He went in, standing in the same place where she was before. 

“How bad are you?” He asked, rubbing his hands nervously. 

“Very bad, I feel terrible Kyung Soo”

“Eunji, I’m so sorry Eunji” He walked to her and pulled her to him wrapping his arms around her. His embrace was warm and protective as always, but bigger than she remembered. His arms felt solid, but still gave her the space to breathe. He kept repeating how sorry he was as if any of this was his fault. Her world had stopped in its axis and nothing moved around her, or inside of her, only her rattling heart. His long hug took away some boiling hurtful feelings for a long while although there was no concept of time there. She pressed into his body searching for more warmth and his arms helped her doing so. He caressed the back of her head and moved her to the bed so they could sit. She just followed him, not even considering the idea of releasing him.

She didn’t say anything. If he knew what was going on, he didn’t need explanations. He also remained silent, but his hug never lost strength. After some long minutes he spoke, his voice soft and sweet “Everything is going to get better, and it will be alright”

“Really? I mean I know it will, but now I can’t find the positivity to think  like that, so say that again” He laughed dryly against her shoulder and repeated himself. 

She let him go when he said it for the third time as if it was a spell. Her hands went to her sides, but he held her from the shoulders as she could collapse. 

“Thank you for coming,  I don’t know what would I have done without you” He rubbed her shoulders making her look up at him. 

“Eunji, it doesn’t matter what happens with us or between us,  but I  will always be there for you, especially when crappy things happen to you” There was a soft glimmer in his eyes, a sweet severity that tried to convey what he was promising. 

And she wished strongly in her heart that this was a real promise. That this was more meaningful than cutting your finger and rubbing it with your friend’s cut finger. A spoken  pact instead of a blood pact. She thanked him again and hugged him because it was their only language for now. He answered the hug but it didn’t feel like the supportive hug from before. It was the signature of the pact. 

“What we have…can’t compare, it’s forever” He whispered against her ear, and at that time she didn’t question it. She didn’t obsess over the meaning of that phrase, because the meaning was clear to her.

Philia.

She didn’t know if she said it out loud or not, but she didn’t get an answer from him.

The days after her parents’ divorce were tough. Her mom was clearly affected but acted like she didn’t care, putting way too much attention on what she did or didn’t do. She wasn’t really used to that and by the fifth time, Eunji stopped her. She didn’t shout at her mom, she spoke to her very calmly, which to her surprise, angered her mom even more.

Kyung Soo didn’t come to visit her again. The feeling of his hug visited her quite often during the day, especially when things got complicated at home. At school, he would sit next to her at the library during lunch break and ask her how things were going. She always answered with a hopeful better.  

“Really?” He always  followed up. 

“Yeah, I’m trying to get used to it, I miss my dad a lot, and I still don’t know what is going to happen”

“With what?”

“My family, my mom, and dad…In less than two years I could move to Seoul to study. What's going to happen with my mom? She can’t stay alone, and now who is taking care of my dad? He can’t cook, he can’t wash his clothes, my mom and I spoiled him like a child” Kyung Soo grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed it tenderly. 

“You can worry, but there is nothing you can do, you can’t stop living your life, you can’t not study because of your mom, and your dad…he is an adult, he can learn how to cook, he has a mother who can take care of his meals, you will take care of them when they are old, but now they are perfectly capable adults who can take care of themselves” Kyung Soo always had that power. He wasn’t a man of a lot of words, ever. Because he didn’t fill the silence with shallow words and didn’t give opinions when nobody asked him. When he spoke it was because he had something to say. And he was always accurate. 

“I don’t think I can do that”

“I know, you always worry too much about the people you love…and I’m not saying you should change that, that’s a beautiful thing, but you should always be the priority”

“So I should go on with my life?” He nodded. 

“I talk with my dad every day and he is managing”

“See, things aren’t that bad, it’s going to take a while to get used to it I guess, but this is not your problem, the most you can do is support them” She wanted to thank him for his words but the ring of the bell ate her words. He released her hand, cursing loudly. He explained to her in a hurry about forgetting to ask for the book he needed for the next class and went to talk with the librarian. She left in a hurry too, but before her class started, she made sure to text him a simple thank you. He answered with a smiley face.

When she expressed these same worries to her boyfriend, his answer wasn’t the same. He just didn’t know what to say. Junmyeon did his best to support her and understand her. But his young self wasn’t ready to deal with a slightly depressed girlfriend. She didn’t blame him. Their relationship was pretty much two friends who made out and had some fun when their parents weren’t at home. They never had deep talks and she never really shared her deep thoughts with him. He wasn’t the type. 

“Are you going to be better without me?” He asked playfully when she told him that she wanted to break up. 

“Don’t say it like that, I just feel like I need to be alone”

“I understand” His cute peach cheeks told her that he really did. 

“I’m sorry” She apologized,  several times.

“Don’t be, this was great, I had a great first girlfriend, I couldn’t ask for more”

“You were an amazing boyfriend too Junmyeon, an amazing friend” He hugged her pulling her to his chest, he knew it was her favorite. 

“Are we still that? Friends?” She promised him that they were. One part of her heart, if it had the ability to do more than pumping blood, was always going to love him.

She didn’t want to be part of a statistic, but her parents’ divorce detonated a change in her. It was time to become an adult. In the sense of being responsible about herself. She needed to grow up, make decisions and ensure her own happiness.  Kyung Soo’s words were a big influence on this decision.

Often at school, he would check on her. A ‘How are you doing?’  as they passed each other, a short talk during lunch. Despite how short they were, he was the only one asking. He was the only one who heard her honest words. One afternoon she found him alone in the art room cleaning his brushes and tools. She was actually looking for him, but for some reason kept repeating to herself that it was an accident. She needed to talk to someone.  As soon as she entered the room Kyung Soo noticed her bothered face. 

“You don’t look your best, something happened?” She sat in a stool next to the window. 

“I don’t think I have look my best in a while Kyung Soo “

“I dare to disagree, but what happened?” After school she did something she had been pulling off for a while. The one on one interview with her teacher about her future. 

“She asked me if I was still considering medicine because one time she asked me what I wanted do become,  I panicked and I said doctor “

“You want to be a doctor?!” There was a mixture of surprise and disgust in his question. 

“No of course not, I told you I panicked, so today when she asked me again I told her what I really want to do”

“And that is?” She was sure he knew it. 

“A writer” He nodded smiling softly. 

“Then why that face?”

“She is going to tell my mom for sure and my mom doesn’t know, she thinks I’m going to become something profitable like an engineer or a lawyer, I’m scared of her reaction, I don’t want her to attack  my passion “

“Are you clear about where you are going to study?” She nodded. 

“Are you clear how you are going to pay for said education?”

“I think I can get a scholarship” He finished drying his hands with a lot of calm and brought a stool in front of her. 

“I know how secretive you are about your writing for that same reason, and I know how your mom is, she is a great woman, but she doesn’t have a way with words”

“What would you do?” He straightened his back, crossing his arms and adopting a thinking face that she hasn’t seen in so long, so, so long. It was the same, the same face she saw so many times before. 

“If you are confident, and if there are possibilities of studying for free I say you should do it, and also I know your parents, they are going to be mad or whatever for a couple of days and then they are going to let you do whatever you want”

“You are saying I’m worrying for nothing”

“I would never say that, I’m telling you to go for it, you can” A knock on the door took away his focus on her and their conversation was cut short, he had to go somewhere. She felt like staying in that room for a little longer just staring at the paintings of the members of the art club. She stopped him as he was leaving the room, needing to ask a question which could fuel her resolution. 

“Kyung Soo, are we still friends?” There was shock for a second in his face, his eyes betrayed him. 

“Yes, we never stopped being friends Eunji, things needed to change a little bit, but we are still friends” Her throat tightened up, but her chest felt full. As if the emotion was grabbing her by the neck and relief was pumping her chest.  

That night she barely slept. As soon as she arrived at her house she talked with her mom about her plans. Of course she didn’t react well. 

“You still write?” She couldn’t blame her mom for asking that. There was no way she could know. She never shared that side of her with her parents. 

Her dad was supportive, maybe out of guilt, but she didn’t get full support from either of them. She needed to give them some time to process it, as Kyung Soo said. But that wasn’t what was keeping her up. What kept her up was her newfound friendship with Kyung Soo. Their relationship went from a hundred to zero and now back to a hundred. Or maybe fifty. They still didn’t meet as often as they used to. But being able to talk again with him. Opening up to him and finding a trustful ear was marvelous. That evening, as she was talking with the night, she noticed that their friendship was one of those connections where they could start from where they left. No need to catch up or regain confidence. It felt as if they had press pause, went to do whatever they needed to do, and now they were pressing play.

Of course now they were different. More mature, with different issues to discuss. She felt a bit guilty that she was the only one opening up, needing help. She didn’t ask him how he was doing. Maybe he had issues too, and he was only focusing on her. That was a very common thing in Kyung Soo, but now she was older and less demanding than the 8 years old Eunji. The next time they met she was going to ask him how he was doing. This year was a big one for him, and maybe he was going through some issues just like her.

 The next Monday she was washing her teeth when she heard someone knocking at the door. Her mom went to open it and she could hear her from upstairs greeting the early guest with a lot of enthusiasm. It was Kyung Soo.

From then on, he picked her up every day so they could walk to school together. She did what she promised to herself and asked him. Anything. He answered all her questions and they held 15 to 20 minutes conversations every morning. They weren’t telling each other all the things that happened during those years where they lost contact. They were learning the new sides of this old friend.

 It was her birthday when something she feared happened. It was a fear that her mom injected on her several years ago when she and Kyung Soo were just kids. 

One day after she answered on her school homework that the person she loved the most was her friend Kyung Soo her mom said, jokingly. 

“Eunji, careful with falling in love with that little Bee, you could lose him” She loved her mom, but she was a master of saying the wrong things all the time. That day, when she was 7 years old, her mom came up with that brutal sentence. If falling in love with him would result in losing him, she was going to make sure to never see him as more than a friend. But that day, when she turned 16, the thing she feared happened. She noticed that the feeling she had for him wasn’t Philia anymore.

She didn’t want to have that conversation with herself. 

“When did you start loving him, Eunji?”.  No. 

Because the answer, whichever it was, could mess with the image she had of herself. If she had been in love with Kyung Soo since she was a child, what was Junmyeon? Before her head could answer, she stopped herself. She didn’t need that answer. It didn’t matter. The thing was that she was now in love with her best friend. 

After celebrating in the morning with her friends at her house Kyung Soo came to pick her up. 

“Let’s go Fly, we have one hour to arrive there, past 3pm we have to pay” She was just bidding goodbye to Junmyeon when he got in through the back door. He pushed the brakes when he saw her ex standing there. She wasn’t sure if he knew that they weren’t dating anymore. 

“Oh sorry. You guys have plans?” Junmyeon answered, all smiles and glowing cheeks. 

“No, we already celebrate, I was just leaving, good to see you Kyung Soo”

“Same” It didn’t sound like he felt the same though. Eunji took him to the door and wished him a safe trip back home, glad that she could celebrate a birthday with a friend.

Kyung Soo was in the kitchen nibbling on some leftovers from the celebratory breakfast. 

“Your English friends?”

“Yeah, we always do this” He grabbed a piece of fruit cake and put it in his mouth, it surprised her how he managed not to choke. 

“Did I miss something about Junmyeon and you? You two didn’t look like a couple” Years of experience allowed her to understand what he was saying. 

“We broke up some months ago, we are still friends tho”

“I feel crappy for not knowing” She played it down and went to grab her jacket.

 During the one-hour bus ride to the next town and before the birthday outing began, Kyung Soo made it very clear that he was penniless. So, they were going to do only free things. 

“I can buy you lunch, but I can only pay for a happy meal”

“I haven’t had one in a while, I like it, can I keep your toy?”

“Sure, birthday gift” In all these years of them being friends, then not so much, and now back to being friends again, this was the first time they shared a day like this, doing something both loved. First stop was the museum. Kyung Soo wanted to visit a biennial of media art at the contemporary museum. 

“Why media art? You are a fine arts kind of guy”

“I like using old techniques, but I hate fine arts themes, I’m seeking for inspiration regarding current matters, also I can’t deal with computers, so for me, all this media pieces look so hard and complicated, I like it” He kept being talkative like that for the two hours they spend in the museum. 

He commented on all the pieces with her, either monologuing or debating with her. She loved it. There were about 11 videos, and as engaging and beautiful they were, she was still a bit tired when they got inside the last room. The video had just started and the room was empty. In the middle of the room there were a couple of mats and pillows so people could sit down and watch. She went straight to the mat and laid down on it. Kyung Soo copied her action and laid down next to her. The beautiful images of Lofoten Islands and relaxing sounds of the sea that the video showcased got her in a peaceful trance. She wasn’t sleepy, but her body was fully relaxed now, and her brain had slowed down. Still, the words of the biologist on the screen brought tears to her eyes. Kyung Soo sighed heavily next to her when the video was over, and then turned around, resting on his right arm. Half of his body was hovering above her, his chest and face too close to her body. She couldn’t see his face since it was dark inside, the room slightly illuminated by the blue light of the video. She knew he was looking at her, but he was silent. The sound of the waves kept playing in the background as she felt his hand brushing hers, playing with her fingers. 

“You look really pretty,” He said, still hidden by the darkness “Did you cry?”. 

Answering yes or no suddenly became an impossible task after being caught off ward by his comment. It drove her crazy not being able to tell if he was smiling, frowning or just staring at her with a blank face. That could change the meaning of his words drastically. 

“I did” She answered, but her shock was louder, she was sure. 

“Me too, that was so scientific but also packed with poetry, amazing, you mind if we watch it again?” She agreed and he went back to his previous position, this time resting his head on her shoulder.  The second time she couldn’t watch the video. She completely forgot about its existence. She could only look at the top of his head. His hair tickled her cheek. She could only sense his smell and his warmth. But above all that, she could feel and hear her heartbeat, shocking her and deafening her. Loud as drums and scary like a storm. This wasn’t the first time she felt like this, so she knew what it was, what it meant. 

“Let’s go, we have one more exposition to see '' He stood up and pulled her up with him. They walked out of the room, needing a couple of minutes to adjust to the bright light.

 He locked arms with her and walked her to the next room. That exposition, in particular, was way past her level of comprehension. It was just a bunch of silly videos for her, but Kyung Soo was analyzing every bit. She listened carefully, and whenever she stood in front of a video and he walked away, he would come back, grab her hand and pull her with him to the next piece. He didn’t let go of her hand. He wasn’t holding it tightly, just locking his pinky with hers. When he did it for the first time, she had to look at their hands just to check if it was happening or not.

On one hand she was so grateful that he was seeking for her, on the other she was sure that by the end of the day she was going to have some kind of heart failure.

But at the same time, it was so exciting. It wasn’t the first time he would act like this with her. When they were kids Kyung Soo told her she was pretty several times, and he held her hand whenever they were outside.

But they weren’t kids anymore.

After the museum, he took her to a book shop so they could do something she enjoyed. They walked several streets so they could visit her favorite bookshop “We spend about three hours at the museum, I’m willing to spend three hours here for you”

“Gee, thank you, you know I can spend three hours here right?”

“I know, that’s why I’m telling you” As she followed him around the museum, he followed her around the bookshop. 

She would grab books she had already read, and comment on them. Kyung Soo would grab books too, based on how cool the cover was and ask her if she had read them. They whispered to each other all the time, under an accomplice aura. She loved it. 

She was going through the sci-fi section when she lost track of Kyung Soo. The library was a little bit packed at that time. She shouldn’t have let go of his hand, he still had a talent to get lost. She searched around with a soft smile on her lips, the memory of a 5-year-old Kyung Soo pouting and wide-eyed, waiting for her to find him, kept humoring her from the past. She found him in the poetry section on the second floor. 

“Old habits don’t die uh?” She told him, sitting next to him on the floor. 

“I wondered and ended up here, on my defense, I don’t cry when I get lost anymore” She patted his back and asked him what he was looking at. He had a small stack of books next to him.

“These books are not very expensive, I can get you one”

“You don’t have to, the happy meal and the museum date was enough” He shrugged it off and insisted. When it came to getting a new book, she wasn’t hard to convince. His selection wasn’t bad, although she had half of them. She ended up picking up a selection of poems from Sapho, a simple yet feminine edition. Kyung Soo grabbed it happily and took it to the register and paid for it. It was already a bit late and if they wanted to grab a seat on the bus, they needed to be quick.

Kyung Soo read her new book on their way home, taking pictures of the poems he liked. 

“You have something similar to this at home?”

“Yeah, I have another book of Sappho and other female authors”

“Borrow them to me” She never had issues borrowing her books, even if it meant losing some of them. She invited him to her place, her mom gave them dinner and then they went to her room so Kyung Soo could check her books and take some of them. He got a call from his mom asking where he was and only then they noticed it was past midnight. 

“I’m going to stay here with Eunji for a little longer” He told his mom and hung up. He didn’t even ask her, she didn’t dislike that. Her mom came to check on them a couple of times until sleep was stronger than her and she went to bed. Eunji wasn’t sure if she was just checking if they needed something or if she was checking if what they were doing was Christian enough. As if anything like that could happen. 

Kyung Soo convinced her to watch a movie he had recently watched. She was sure that they would both fall asleep during the movie, but he insisted and she has never been able to say no to him. The movie was so good and engaging that by four in the morning it was over, and they were wide awake. Awake but hungry. They went downstairs and got themselves some snacks and the entire bottle of coke. They chatted for a little while until Kyung Soo got serious. He fumbled with his fingers a little bit, locked eyes with her and then looked down again. She gave him time, not even daring to wonder what he had to say. If he was nervous, she had to stay calm. 

“I decided that I’m not going to L university, I gave it a lot of thought and the way they select their students and also the way they plan their classes does not fit me” He was right. L university was everybody’s choice because it was close to their town, so it was cheaper. It was known also for how easy it was to get in, but how hard it was to stay. Also, if he wanted to study arts, L university wasn’t the best. 

“Where are you going then?”

“I did some research and the Seoul Institute of the Arts is my best option” Seoul. That was almost 10 hours away by bus. He was going to spend money on rent for sure. 

“You are moving to Seoul?”

“Yeah, next week I need to go for my personal interview and after that, I will know if they accept me, but I’m sure they will accept me, I was scouted in one of our art fairs and I send some of my work and they liked it, so…I’m confident” Another difference between L University and the Seoul Institute of the Arts was how hard was to get in it. They didn’t care about your grades, nor did they have an entrance exam. If they liked your work, you were in. And if they really liked your art you were in and with a scholarship. Kyung Soo was scouted and had one foot inside the institute.

“I don’t want to congratulate you and jinx it, but I can tell you that I am really proud” He giggled shyly and thanked her. 

“So you are not going to be here next year”

“No, I’m going to leave during the summer” The word leave weighed heavily on her chest. It was a terrible one. There was nothing more she could say. And Kyung Soo didn’t ask her more. He climbed on her bed and rested his head on her pillow, snuggling. 

“I don’t want to leave my life here, but I can’t keep living it if I don’t go”  

“You are right” She crawled to his side and sat on the floor facing him. 

“I just feel like we are all so young for so many changes, our brains can’t be ready for all this…but also, our parents went through this, our parents’ parents too, so it can’t be that horrible”

“Of course not, and we are luckier than them, my dad couldn’t go to medical school because of money, your mom wanted to be a teacher, but her dad didn’t let her…not like us who got to decide what to do, and we couldn’t choose more uncertain paths in life, an artist and a writer” Eunji covered her mouth to tone down her laugh. Kyung Soo was right, and they should celebrate their freedom. 

“Have you decided where you want to study? With your grades you can go anywhere you want”

“I have some options, but I’m planning on deciding next year”

“Since I’m not going to be here you are going to have a lot of free time…what? Why did you get sad all of a sudden?”

“How can you ask why? I just got you back and now you are leaving” There were less dramatic ways to express what she was feeling, for sure, but she was being honest. 

“Eunji, I never left so how could you get me back, we just…I don’t know, what happened to us Eunji?” He grabbed on to her pillow with much strength hiding his face and sighing with something close to frustration. 

“There were days where I missed you so much, I needed to do and say things I couldn’t do with my friends…and you were across the street, but I just couldn’t do it, things weren’t as before, and I knew that you would treat me like before, that everything would go back to what it used to be, like now, but I just couldn’t, I was afraid and embarrassed” She reached for his hand and grabbed it. 

“I missed you too, so much, but also our time apart allowed us to do so many things and met so many people…and when I needed you the most, you came, and we are back to how it used to be” He raised his face slowly and looked at their hands. 

“That night, after your mom called mine telling her what happened, I didn’t think about it twice and came here, and now here we are” He rested his head on the pillow again and looked at her with a sweet, sleepy smile. 

“You have a point when you say that you never left…we remained friends” He nodded, closing his eyes.

“Now you get it,” He whispered playfully. 

The hand she was holding felt softer, more relaxed and when she looked at his face it was clear he was asleep. Why bother waking him up? He was tired, it was too late, and this wasn’t the first time they shared a bed. Of course, in the past, her bed had a Barbie bedspread and her ceiling was covered in glow in the dark stars. Now her bedspread was gray and her ceiling naked. But the feeling in her room was the same from 10 years ago. Homey, safe and happy.

She took off her sweater, brought a blanket and laid next to him, covering both with it.

She faced his back and made sure to stick to the wall, so she wouldn’t bother him. His back and nape looked so manly from behind. His silky black hair falling onto her pillow, his breathing, a bit loud, filling her silent room.

He was so big now. An almost grown-up.

The Bee was gone long ago. Now he was more of a bumblebee. She giggled quietly to her own thoughts. .

She drifted off to sleep feeling that bursting sensation inside of her. The feeling of loving someone. Of loving him.

She woke up early with the sound of her mom’s voice. She opened her eyes and found her with her phone taking pictures. 

“This was a throwback” She whispered to a still half-sleep Eunji. She tried to explain herself, but her mom wasn’t interested. 

“I’m glad you guys are still friends…make sure to serve him some breakfast ok? I’m leaving for work” Before she could answer, her mom left looking at the pictures she had just taken. 

Eunji turned around on her bed a couple of times and then got up. It was early and she had probably slept 3 to 4 hours, but she was fully awake now. Kyung Soo on the other side was still asleep. She went to the bathroom, took her time, and when she came back Kyung Soo was moving around her bed, turning from one side to the other, grasping to the last seconds of sleep. She sat on her desk and did her best to comb her hair into a bun. Some hairs were sticking out, but it was under control. 

“Eunji, stay there, let me take a picture” She jolted on her seat and froze on her spot, reacting to the urgency in Kyung Soo’s voice. She asked him several times what it was, but he only insisted on her staying still. He stood up and grabbed his phone from her desk where it was charging. In the reflection of her mirror, she could see him standing behind her and pointing his camera to her nape. 

“You are taking a picture of my neck?”

“Your nape, yes, Can I paint it?” He stood next to her and showed her his phone with her picture.

“Why do you want to paint it?”

“It looks very cute, and the nape is one of the most attractive things in the human body” She chuckled and looked at her picture, it looked quite cute if she could say so. 

“That’s your subject, the human body?”

“I think so”

“Ok, you can paint it, but unnamed” Kyung Soo frowned in doubt. 

“I was planning on naming it Eunji, or Fly…but if that’s your only request, unnamed it is” Kyung Soo called her pretty yesterday and now was saying that her nape was cute. She wasn’t used to compliments, and she knew that his were obviously an exaggeration. But she could take them and believe them for a couple of days or weeks.

Kyung Soo stayed for breakfast and then left the  house without a word, only giving her a hand signal.

Before lunch, she got a text for him thanking her for the food, the company and the beautiful day they shared.

She answered hoping that they could do that again before he moves to Seoul. Kyung Soo answered – I will not leave your side for the rest of the year -

Two weeks before his graduation he got a call from the institute telling him that he had been accepted. It was settled that his departure was going to be in the middle of the summer, a month after his graduation.  

He wasn’t lying when he told her that he wasn’t going to leave her alone. She still met her friends regularly, but whenever she was at home, Kyung Soo was there. If she was studying, he was on his cellphone or sketching. Whenever he went downtown to buy art supplies, she would come with him. They were coming back to an old routine that for sure she was going to miss in the future.  

And with every day they spent together, the love for him kept growing. Kyung Soo had become a second home, a safer and more supportive one. He was polite with everybody around him. Watching him interact with his friends, so lovingly yet stern was a new side that she didn’t see very often. With her, he was just sweet. He always had the right word, the right touch, he even appeared just when she needed him. One time she asked him if he could read her mind and he only grinned and said maybe.

There were different kinds of love and different degrees of love. She never stopped to think about how much she loved him or how. She wasn’t interested. There was no point in facing anything if he was about to leave. But the main reason why she refused to fully acknowledge her feelings was fear. Fear of being rejected and breaking their bond.

She was never too brave. Especially now as an almost adult. If the five-year-old Eunji could possess her current body she would cross the street, go to Kyung Soo’s room, grab his cute face and kiss him on the lips. But the old Eunji disappeared years ago, and the new one was shy and a coward.

But she was cautious and strong. So, whatever happened she was sure she would be able to deal with it. Deal with anything but heartbreak. Missing him, she could handle that much. Losing him for a sudden love confession, that would break her.

And also, there was no rush.

She didn’t mark on her planner his moving day. She didn’t need to remember it. The day before his friends organized a party in a restaurant and they invited her. She really didn’t want to go, she had come out with an excuse when Kyung Soo called her asking if she was coming. 

“I thought it was a surprise party”

“It was for like ten minutes, I found out what they were planning in a heartbeat, go please” She complained by groaning his name in annoyance. 

“Please, I know you find them funny, and they like how chill you are, you just have to go, eat and speak once in a while, nothing more”

“Ok”

“I promise that I’m going to make you sit next to me so you don’t have to do small talk” She ended up agreeing, and of course she didn’t regret it. 

The party was more of a gathering. They ate and laughed loudly. Telling different stories about them with Kyung Soo, commenting on where he beat them and with what. Some of them cried thinking about him leaving, some of them made him promise that he would visit them often to which he refused. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to visit very often, it’s a 10-hour drive from there, plane tickets are expensive, also, I’m going to be an art student, I’m going to have money for art supplies and maybe food, that’s it” He was answering to his friends, but that was for her too.

She wasn’t going to be able to see him too often.

The next morning she woke up after one hour of sleep. She arrived late from the party, but once she laid on her bed sleep refused to take over. At one point she gave up and began reading.

Kyung Soo’s dad was going to drive him to the bus station at 8 o’clock. It was 6 am. She went to take a shower, washed her hair and then sat on her bed for almost an hour covered in her towel, just staring at her wall. Her mind went from completely blank to being filled with the image of Kyung Soo and the sound of his voice. She was already feeling homesick.

Her hair had already dried when her mom knocked at her door. 

“Let’s go and say goodbye to Kyung Soo” Her mom was holding an envelope against her chest, Eunji looked at it raising an eyebrow. 

“This is a bit of money to help him settle, it’s the only thing I can do…and also, next year you are going to go through the same I suspect, so…”

“That’s very nice of you mom” She looked happy with her compliment and hurried outside the house. Her neighbor’s door was open, the car parked outside, and she could see them chatting in the living room. Eunji’s mom went inside and she just followed her. Kyung Soo’s mom was teary-eyed and ran to hug her friend, Kyung Soo and his dad laughed lovingly at her. Eunji felt a bit awkward and was kind of grateful that she didn’t hug her, she was sure she would cry with her.

“Our kids are leaving us, it’s happening  too soon” She said between sobs. 

“Now we only have Eunji”

“Yeah, but don’t get too attached, she would be leaving next year” Her mom joked, hugging her friend. 

“But you guys have each other at least” Kyung Soo commented standing next to her. 

“I’m leaving Eunji here, and going there alone” His mom released Eunji’s mom and went to hug her son sobbing about how her baby was going to be all by himself. 

“Mom, I was joking, I’m going to be alright” Despite Kyung Soo’s mom crying, which was expected, there was a very light atmosphere at his place. He had already packed everything and was enjoying a snack before heading to the station. He looked relaxed, excited to leave and answered his parents’ questions over and over again, with patience. 

They asked him at least 10 times if he took the credit card with him and he answered the 10 times with his signature calm. Eunji did her best to copy, to absorb some calm from him, but on a scale, she was closer to his mom’s mood than his. She did her best to act natural. Laugh when needed, hold a conversation. But she could hear her voice softer, trying to go past her tight throat.

“Eunji, before I go, come to my room with me” She followed him upstairs and walked inside his room. The shelves were half empty and the open doors of his wardrobe showed empty shelves and hangers. 

“I was going to take my blankets but my mom forbade me to do so, she said that the bed had to be ready for when I come to visit” She sat on his bed and smiled at him, finding his mom’s way of thinking so adorable. Kyung Soo moved around his room, probably checking if he was forgetting something, her eyes following him as he moved. She felt so jealous of him. So jealous of his peace. He stood in front of her with his hands on his waist looking down at her with a soft smile “Are you ok?” She shook her head. 

“Are you sad because I’m leaving?” She nodded looking away. Kyung Soo was going to say something, but his dad interrupted them by calling him from downstairs. It was time to leave. 

She felt so desperate, as the time with him was running short. Kyung Soo grabbed her hands and made her stand up. 

“Have you thought about studying at the Seoul Institute?” His voice was rushed. 

“I have”

“I don’t want to push you, it’s your decision, but it would be great if we went there together”

“It would depend…I need to get a scholarship otherwise it’s going to be impossible” He insisted that she wasn’t pushing her decision and she wasn’t going to recognize that a part of her would kill to go there and not have to miss him. 

Kyung Soo didn’t let go of her hands and kept rubbing them with his thumb. She wanted to put her hand on his chest. Maybe his face wasn’t giving too much away, but his heart, his heart must be showing it. He had to feel something right now, he was leaving. He must feel at least half, even a third as sad as her. Her hands were itching to touch him, to bring him to her. Kyung Soo was a step ahead. He hugged her, bringing her to his body slowly, taking his time to envelope her with his arms and rest his chin comfortably on her shoulder.

And she felt it.

In his breathing, in his hold. His heartbeat matched hers. His hold was tight and desperate and his voice sounded low and so close to her ear as if he didn’t want to share this with anyone, not even the walls of his room. 

“See you soon Eunji”

“See you”

“Take care” His arms held her tighter and she did the same. 

“You too, if you need anything, call” His laugh rumbled against her chest. 

“What could I need from you, money?” She hit his back playfully. 

“I’m broke, but you know…”

“I know, I will call…I’m gonna try not to bother you too much” Eunji pulled apart and held to his upper arm, putting together all her effort to look serious and try to send along a message that she knew she was not going to be able to say, but maybe, just maybe her eyes would be able to express. 

“Kyung Soo, bother me all you want” His eyes went wide for a quick second and then a smile took over. He didn’t laugh, so it wasn’t funny to him, his smile was more of a thankful one. 

“That was very cool Eunji, ok, I will call” He hugged her again, quickly, so she didn’t have the chance to hug him back.

The farewell was short, they were a little bit behind schedule. He hugged her again and this time she was quicker, hugging him back and not letting him go for five seconds. 

 +++++

She wished for their love story to be a Shakespeare comedy, ups and downs, a little misunderstanding, lovely characters but with love as the champion of the story. But early after Kyung Soo’s departure, she realized that this was a Bronte novel. All of the Bronte sisters. Because, there was a possibility that love could win in the1 end, but in the middle, there was going to be a lot of drama.

With the divorce of her parents, she noticed something about herself, and now with the recent events, she confirmed it. She was terrified about the uncertainty of change. If her life kept moving on as it was, she could easily predict the future. And that was perfect. She wasn’t a fighter, she didn’t function well under pressure. A predictable tomorrow gave her confidence. When her dad left, the global image she had of her future changed and it became uncertain. And now with Kyung Soo leaving, again her future became uncertain. There were so many options, but just one of them meant full happiness for her.

Her mood, her private mood, the one that showed in the loneliness of her room, during bus and car rides or when her day became dull, changed too soon for her own taste. She thought she would make it for a month or two and just then she would begin missing him. But sadly, it wasn’t the case. The next day she sat at her couch and stared at the door of his house hoping that yesterday was a dream.

If they hadn’t gotten closer again, she wouldn’t be like this. So at least she had that. She missed him because they were friends again, and during those days they spent together she developed a love for him that was something to be cherished. These kinds of feelings were a double-edged weapon. Loving someone was always a blessing, but love brought a kind of pain that she wasn’t ready to feel. With her love, came the nostalgia, the silent ache, the need to cry out loud or to be sitting completely quiet. This was terrifyingly new. Her first love didn’t teach her about this. Her relationship with Junmyeon was pain free. It didn’t toughen her up.

 On the days that came, she began wondering about his changes. When they cross paths again, what new colors would Kyung Soo have? She begged for him to not forget her. To not forget his affection for her. She was sure her affection wasn’t going to change. If anything, a year away from him could only feed her love for him and make it grow and grow. Holding onto her feelings, she went back to the scenes she shared with him. All of them. Just to feed her hope or fire her melancholy.

Her mood towards the others didn’t change too much. She still did great at school. Her relationship with her mom was the same, just avoid confrontation. Her relationship with her dad was the same, just give him enough information about herself.

She hung out with her friends, which was one of the two things that kept her spirits up. Her friends kept her busy. With them she laughed, she joked, she sang and danced, went out for food or to just kill time. And she enjoyed it, she really did. But Kyung Soo, as a ghost, appeared always in her thoughts and almost materialized in front of her. When she laughed, she imagined him laughing. When she joked, she imagined him hiding his laughing face behind the closest shoulder. When she sang and danced, she imagined him watching her, cheering, mouthing the lyrics with her.

She wanted to read, but she knew that every book that could pass through her eyes would be tarnished by her current reality. She could remember where she read every single book, so of course, she remembered what was happening in her life at the time she read any specific book.

 The month before he began his classes, the messages and video calls were customs. Those video calls made her weaker inside. She couldn’t reach for his arm or bump her shoulder with his. The small screen didn’t make justice to his cute face either. And reading his messages with his voice didn’t help. Not being able to meet him and have a normal conversation frustrated her immensely.  

Autumn lasted a couple of weeks, as always, and then a winter that lasted half a year arrived.

The rain gave her peace. She always preferred winter over summer. Winters were long in her town, so she had to learn to love them. Kyung Soo reminded her of winter. He looked like summer but felt like winter. He was comforting but wild and thunderous sometimes.

As her friends made her forget for a little while, writing made her turn her sadness into something.

She began writing obsessively.

One time at a workshop they told them to “Use your sadness, the best things would come from your extreme happiness and extreme sadness”. That sounded stupid to her. She hated the idea of romanticizing sadness or depression. 

But she had to recognize now that her best things came from her sorrow, melancholy and yearning. Not one of her stories was sad, quite the opposite. She went to happy, brilliant, magical places just to keep her feelings away. In every short story she wrote, she created a character that was Kyung Soo. Could be a time-traveling neighbor, a coffee shop owner or a voice coming from a tree in the forest. They were all little pieces of him that she kept to herself.

His first calls were only enthusiasm about everything. After some weeks stress made its debut, and then she began to notice how he lost weight and how his eyes now had a darker companion under them. He spoke about due dates, some teachers being a bit square and expensive art supplies. Of course, he spoke about good things too. His classmates, his roommates, the Friday nights and the great art scene in Seoul. He always said how he wished she was there.

As the year went by his calls were shorter until there were none. His text went from one every day to one every week. She expected that much, so it didn’t hurt too much. She could understand why he stopped writing and calling. But when two weeks passed and he didn’t write to her, she broke down during dinner when her mom asked her about Kyung Soo. She dropped her spoon and dashed to her daughter’s side, terrified of seeing her cry. Eunji never cried in front of other people. She only did it when it was too much for her to handle. She kept calling her name, caressing her head. Containing her between her familiar and eternal arms. After she calmed down, her mom made her wash her face and took her to bed with a cup of tea on her nightstand. She laid next to her in bed and heard her in silence as she was finally relaxed enough to speak. Eunji was scared of sharing so much. Scared of being judged for her feelings, or being made fun of or even worse, she was scared of hearing her mom looking down on her feelings.

But she didn’t.

When Eunji finished talking her mom held her tighter, kissed her head and told her something she wanted to remember forever so she could pass it on to whoever needed it. 

“Eunji, you did something really amazing with Kyung Soo, you turned him into an immortal being because no one dies when they have been loved, love turns us into holly creatures, love is longer  than life” She began crying again, but not for Kyung Soo.

  From all of the stories she wrote during that year, she chose one to send to the Institute. If they liked it, she was in. If they really liked it, she was in and with a scholarship. Those were Kyung Soo’s words. 

“Look, and if you don’t get accepted, you go to L University, and you are going to be an hour closer to Kyung Soo” Her mom tried to cheer her up. 

“Mom”

“Eunji, take a joke, there’s no way you are not getting accepted, that story, thank you for letting me read it by the way” She commented ironically, because of course she didn’t let her mom read it  “I’m sure is an amazing story, I trust that you are a great writer as you are smart, and I know you are not doing this only for him, but if this stops you from crying like the other day, then do it” L university indeed was her second option, in fact, they already got in touch with her asking what options she was considering but her mind was settled on the Seoul Institute of Arts.

They did take their sweet time to answer though. She was waking up the morning after her graduation party when she got a call. Her mom picked up since she was going through an understandable case of dysphonia. She didn’t know her mom was such a teaser. Her face didn’t say good or bad news. She only answered with an assortment of A-ha’s and I see and when the call was over she put down the phone and crossed her arms. 

“Well Miss Eunji, you just saved your parents a big amount of money…you are in, with a full scholarship” She shouted, although it came out as a loud whisper, and jumped into her mom’s arms.

Now her life was back to being predictable. Uncertainty out of the window. At least for the next summer.

TBC

Notes:

Thank you so much to @xiuminscheeks​ for the beautiful mood board. 

The biennale is real, I visited it this summer, chef kiss, it was amazing. And here is the video I refer.  

The Seoul Institute of the Arts is real, but everything I wrote and write in the future about it is fake, just my imagination. Abut the entrance system, that’s how art school’s work in my country, no idea how it does in Korea. 

And last, check my cute playlist for this story. 

[pieswhump]

Whumptober #3-

Warnings- food mention, but otherwise none, I think.

This piece is a direct sequel to my first whumptober piece.

Nico stayed in the office the whole day, with someone coming by to feed him around lunch. He wasn’t unchained, so he had to eat like a dog. He felt humiliated, his head pounding and his stomach churning.

He dozed all day, but properly fell asleep at around what he guessed was ten. He had no reliable way to tell time, relying on instinct. Thankfully, he was given a thin blanket. The man had left after his cryptic statement about Nico being a good present.

Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, he didn’t have to wonder long.

The next day, he was awoken by footsteps down the hall. Two sets. The footsteps continued until they reached his room, and Nico’s heartbeat picked up speed.

The two strangers opened the door, and Nico’s heart plummeted. It was the man from before, and a stranger. Nico memorized his appearance, too.

Pale skin, straight dark brown hair cut in that one rich people hairstyle, swept to the side. His ears were pierced. He looked younger than the other man, around his age. Nico figures they were father and son. He looked surprised, and Nico noted another family resemblance- the man’s son had bright red eyes. His were more like the color of strawberries, however. Interesting.

The man grinned. “Do you like him?” 

The son looked confused. “What’s this?”

Nico felt a spike of hatred for them both. Not who’s this, what’s this. Like he was simply an object.

The man continued. “Well, it’s your birthday today. You’re twenty-one, so I figured you deserved something new. A real challenge, not pre-broken ones.”

The son’s face lit up. “Really?! When did you get him?”

“Dane picked him up two nights ago. Happy birthday, Reed.” 

All at once, Nico realized what he had meant by present. He was to be his son’s… servant? He wasn’t sure, but regardless, it wasn’t something he wanted to be.

Reed smiled at his father, and bent down so he was level with Nico. He shied away slightly. “What’s your name, little one?”

Nico growled. “I’m twenty fucking years old. I’m not little.”

To Nico’s irritation, Reed laughed. “Fine. My question stands- what’s your name?”

He didn’t want to answer but… “Nico.”

“Well Nico, I have a feeling we’re going to get along swimmingly.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to hate your guts.”

Reed stood up and smiled at his dad. “I like him.”

His dad chuckled a little. “He’s a little skittish, but fierce. Afraid of physical contact but not of verbal confrontation.” 

Nico snarled, and Reed glanced at him. “Hush.”

He went silent, hating himself for it. But it was better to play along and try to get out of here than retaliate and die here.

Reed seemed to realize something. “Do you think he’ll play nice?”

His father thought for a second. “I don’t know. It could go either way- he could lash out, or be scared of him.”

Reed snorted. “He wouldn’t harm a fly.”

His father shrugged. “Maybe not, but your other one tends to be clingy from what I’ve heard. If he doesn’t like touch, he could become scared.”

Reed wrinkled his nose, muttering to himself. “I hate it when you’re right.”

His father laughed. “Well, want to get him ready? You’re live in about a half hour.”

Reed swore under his breath. “Do you have the key?”

He smirked, handing a small, silver key to Reed. He took it, unlocking the padlock that kept him chained to the ground.

Nico stood up, unsteady on his feet. He lurched forward, trying to bite at Reed.

Reed stepped back, his jovial smile hardening into a glare. "Well if you don't calm down, then you won't get unhooked and we'll be late."

Nico glared back. "Who fucking cares if we're late?"

"Well I do, for one. And so do my viewers." 

Reed rolled his eyes. “Stay still. Or today will be much worse.”

Nico didn’t know what to make of the threat, but he certainly didn’t like it. So, he stayed still, glaring at Reed.

Reed sighed, and unhooked the lock that kept the chain attached to his cuffs, then removed the chain. He relocked the cuff together, humming under his breath.

Nico didn’t move, despite his brain screaming at him to do something, to fight back. 

Reed smiled. “Good.” 

He took hold of Nico’s wrist, the touch sending jolts of electricity up Nico’s arm. Reed started leading Nico out the hallway, and Nico drank in the sights to escape later.

The hallway was wide, with the same flooring as the office. The walls were white. They passed by a large window, and Nico saw a large and well-manicured lawn with flower beds leading up to what he imagined was the door. Apparently, they were in a mansion.

Reed took a sharp turn down some steps, and Nico stumbled. Reed glanced back at him. “Be careful.”

Nico glared and ignored him. Reed sighed and turned back around, leading him downstairs. The lighting was getting progressively darker, and while Nico wouldn’t admit it, he was a little spooked. They passed by a door about halfway through, which Nico figured led to the first floor.

They got to the bottom of the staircase, where there was a large wooden door. Reed opened it, leading Nico inside.

Inside was a concrete room, with a small platform towards the back. On the platform was a chest containing things he didn’t want to know about. There was a camera and a computer on a table in front of it, the camera facing the platform. There were two other men, but they didn’t spare Nico a glance. On the platform was a kneeling boy, around twenty or so. Reed looked surprised to see him, leading Nico onto the platform. 

“Jac! What’re you doing here?”

The boy glanced up at Reed, doe-eyed. His eyes were bright green, almost startling. “Um… Mr. Raymond brought me down here. He said you couldn’t for today.”

Reed grinned. “Well apparently, I was getting a present. Jac, this is Nico!”

Nico glanced away, not sure how to respond.

Reed sighed. “Fine. Nico, knees.”

“What?”

Jac looked afraid, and Reed glared. He let go of Nico’s wrist, setting his hand on Nico’s head and shoving. He stumbled, landing on his knees. Nico winced, swearing under his breath.

Reed grinned. “Good.”

Nico felt hatred for this man course through his veins like blood. Reed glanced at the other two men. “We ready?”

One of them checked his watch, moving behind the camera, and nodded. He did a countdown from five on his hands, and Nico heard the undeniable sound of a camera whirring on.

Reed grinned. “Hello and welcome to the Bourdell family stream! As our more frequent viewers might be aware, today is my birthday, and my father has gotten me a wonderful present!”

Reed tousled Nico’s hair, grinning wider still as Nico glared at the camera with all of the vitriol he felt for Reed and his father. He was screwed. 

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 94580/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11 // Ch 12 // Ch 13 // Ch 14 // Ch 15 // Ch 16

Read on: Ao3

--

“Are you ready to go love?” Killian asks. He’s in the kitchen, drying the last of the plates from dinner.

Emma peers her head out of the bedroom, a smile on her face. 

“Almost, I just need shoes,” she says.

It’d been a week since Emma had made peace with the Queen. Killian is endlessly proud of her courage and wisdom. He knows for a fact that forgiveness isn’t easy. The fact that Emma was able to forgive the Queen so openly, well, he admires her for that.

It was earlier this week that Emma booked her flight home. Killian’s throat had caught as he looked at the date on the ticket- just a few days before Christmas. Less than two weeks away. He’s tried to imagine spending Christmas without this woman who had firmly planted herself in his life. The thought of Christmas with Ruby and Granny, which had previously been a comforting thought, now makes him feel empty.

It was from this anxiety that he’d suggested they take one last trip to the opera house together. Emma had admitted that she was uncomfortable asking the queen for tickets and Killian agreed. Instead, she’d gotten them from the international student center at the university. It was for a ballet and Killian thought it would be a nice goodbye to a place that had been part of their journey together.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as she walks out of the room a moment later with a smile on her face. She’s dressed in a knee-length black dress with long sleeves and a jeweled belt around her waist to accentuate her thin frame. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, curling over her shoulder. Killian’s eyes linger over her dark eyelashes and bright red lips.

“Do I look alright?” She whispers.

Killian swallows, thinking about how lovely she looks, and how little time they have. 

“Wonderful, love,” He manages, before offering her his arm.

Emma grabs her purse, opens the door, and leans on him as they walk out of the apartment. The path to the tram from Emma’s apartment is second nature to Killian now, as is the signature way they board the tram- Emma first with her card and Killian with his leap.

With the change of season, it gets darker now. The tram ride is a blur of light against the dark backdrop of the night sky. Killian weaves his arm around Emma and pulls her close. He cherishes each tiny moment of closeness they get. He wants to feel her for every moment they have left.

They get off at “Opèra” and make their way up to the opera house. The seats aren’t in the private box this time, but among the other International Students in the balcony. 

“Maybe we should have invested in opera glasses at this point,” Killian mutters, as he finds his seat. They are still velvet lined and comfortable.

“Nah, it’s nice to see the formations from here. Balcony is good for ballet,” Emma tells him. She glances down at her program. “It’s a guest performance by the Royal Ballet. I saw them do a different show in London. They were spectacular.”

Killian smiles at her, impressed that she’s become a ballet aficionado. Killian doesn’t even know what the show is. He reaches for Emma’s program.

“Anastasia?” He asks, looking at the font swirling on top of a grey background. It’s unfamiliar to him. 

“Didn’t you even see the animated movie growing up? With Meg Ryan?” She replies.

He shakes his head after racking his brain and coming up with nothing.

“It was a classic at one of the group homes I was at,” Emma says. “I’d watch it all the time.”

“Is it about the Romanov girl?” He asks, thinking to a history class he had in England.

She nods. “Yeah, well, the movie is like completely fairy tale. It’s about an orphan who discovers that she’s Princess Anastasia and for some reason she’s in Paris and Rasputin wants to kill her. The songs are great. And there is like this cute, little singing bat.”

Killian laughs, trying to picture it. “We’ll have to watch it sometime.”

Emma nods, “Anyway, weird that there is a ballet about it.”

Killian flips through the program, looking for more information. Emma folds her hands on his shoulder and rests her chin on them, peering at it. 

“But look, this ballet was made way before that kids’ movie,” she points out.

“What does that mean?”

But then the orchestra begins the overture and the lights dim. They both take their gaze from the program to the stage.

The first two acts are lively, full of pre-Revolution Imperial memories. It’s balls and family and ornate displays of royalty. It’s like the kind of vision that lives on the corners of Killian’s memory. 

When the third act comes, everything changes. The ballet is now set in a mental hospital in Berlin. The girl who believes she’s Anastasia is dancing madly across the stage. Her steps are crude and wild. Killian shivers, gooseflesh appearing on his arms. She’s delusional. She’s mad. It’s terrifying.

Beside him, he notices Emma gripping the armrest of her chair, her eyes glassy and distant. He reaches out and strokes her arm, then cards his finger through a few strands of her hair. She glances at him, stirred by his touch. Her eyes are haunted and tired. He’d hoped that his touch would soothe her, but she looks so tense.

He tries to understand what could have provoked this. She’d seemed fine at the interval. Then a realization dawns on Killian: she could be remembering. 

He’s kept his suspicion quiet for months, ever since Emma asked him not to mention it. He understands her request. No point getting your hopes up about something that might not ever happen. 

But he still thinks she might be the real deal. A bit of his soul starts to soar as he thinks of it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine Emma remembering everything and discovering that she is in fact the Lost Princess. He imagines her being fitted for gowns and going to balls, looking brilliant as always. He imagines her moving into a castle, being taken care of properly for once in her life. He imagines her finishing out her PhD here, writing her dissertation while balancing her royal duties. He lets himself dream of her life being here in Misthaven, instead of oceans away on a continent he’s never been to. He likes the certainty of her in this fantasy and perhaps that is the true fantasy of it. A life where Emma is firmly beside him for good.

The final bows are taken and curtain drops. Emma reaches for his hand.

“Can we hurry out? I really need some air,” She tells him.

He nods, squeezing her hand and following her down the aisle. They don’t linger in the lobby. He follows Emma’s lead and they go right to the door.

Once they are in the cool winter air, he watches her take huge gulping breaths. He pulls her towards him into a hug. She doesn’t resist him and she rests her head on his shoulder. He realizes she’s shaking a bit.

“Are you okay, love?” He asks.

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Not really.”

He doesn’t want to ask her, but the fantasy, the hope of epiphany, can’t leave his mind.

“Have you, erm, remembered anything that’s disturbed you?” He asks softly, letting his head drip down to speak into her ear.

She looks up at him, her forehead wrinkling, “What do you mean, remembered anything?”

He frowns, not knowing how to keep from her from realizing what he thought. Before he can explain, she makes the realization.

She draws away.

“Oh my god, Killian. You can’t still possibly think that I’m Princess Emma. That can’t be further from the truth and you know that as well as I.”

He grimaces, upset that he triggered this reaction in her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, love,” He says, as Emma takes a few steps back. “I just saw your face and you looked so disturbed. I hoped, foolishly hoped, that it was because you were having some sort of lovely epiphany.”

“Well, I’m did and I’m not,” Emma retorts.

“So what is on your mind?” He asks.

“Let’s go sit by the river,” Emma says. 

He knows she’s stalling some sort of conversation, but he follows her nonetheless. He’s pleased that Misthaven is having a small winter heat wave so that it’s tolerable to sit outside. They cross the love-lock bridge and sit along the quai, legs dangling over the water.

He thinks of their first night together at the opera, when they sat together in this same spot, sharing a bottle of champagne. That’s when he tried to kiss Emma for the first time and she shied away from his kiss. So much has changed since then. A wave of reassurance falls over him. If they can go from that embarrassing night to where they are now, they can surely overcome whatever is disturbing her now.

“I was just thinking about how that Anastasia, or I guess her name was Anna,” Emma says. “She had an excuse.”

“What do you mean an excuse?” Killian says.

“For what she was doing, all the pain she is causing,” Emma tells him.

“I don’t believe you’ve caused pain to anyone,” he says, perplexed. “If anything, you’ve made my life, the Queen’s life, much better.”

She shakes her head.

“I did have an epiphany during the show,” Emma says. “But not a good one.”

“Oh?” He questions, daring to reach out and stroke her hair again. She doesn’t draw away from his touch this time. He’s grateful for that.

“I was thinking about Alice,” she says. He can’t help but grimace at the name, a fresh wave of pain flooding over him. “And how disappointed you were that she wasn’t your daughter. You were so upset. I was too. It was like a true loss to realize that someone you thought was your daughter wasn’t.”

Killian nods, the grief still lingering in his bones.

“And I realized that it was exactly what we were doing to the queen,” Emma says. “We’re leading her on, celebrating our sabotage.”

Killian runs his hand down her back. “Emma, love, I don’t think that we’ve been trying to misinform her for a while. I think that she’s come to care for you regardless. Didn’t you say that she said that to you?”

“But it doesn’t matter if we’ve given up on it,” she protests. “That was our intention. We wanted to hurt her. We wanted to take advantage of her pain. We wanted to profit off of it.”

She looks up at him. “It’s despicable. I can’t imagine that we wanted to give that pain you went through to anyone else.”

“Oh Swan,” he says. “I know that was our intention, but can you accept that we’ve done more good than bad? You’ve made the queen so happy.”

“No, there’s no excuse,” Emma says sharply. “We aren’t crazy. We aren’t in a mental hospital, imagining that we are someone else. We were greedy. We were unable to see the Queen as a human person with emotions. It’s disgusting. I’m sorry I was a part of any of this.”

Killian frowns. “Sorry you’ve been with me?”

“No, no, Killian, never,” she says. “I just feel guilty.”

“I know,” he says.

He pulls her towards him. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” she says softly.

He kisses her hair, “I love you too, darling.”

“What if we visited the Memorial Gardens tomorrow?” Emma asks.

“Of course, love. Your wish is my command.”

“I just feel like I need to make reparations with the real Princess Emma,” she says.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” he teases. “But for now, let’s go home, shall we Swan?”

--

The cobblestone path curves up the hill, flanked by rows of houses. The architecture of the houses match the castle in a way. Emma thinks it’s nice. She’s never been in this part of Misthaven before. It’s on the Old Town side of the river, up the hill from the Opera House and Saint Anne’s. 

The cobblestone path gives way to an elaborate iron archway made up of floral designs and patterns. A plaque against the wall next to it reads, “Misthaven Memorial Gardens.”

Emma swallows, thinking how bizarre it is that this path leads right to these gardens. It’s as if it’s always been leading her this way. It’s as if Misthaven itself in its fundamental architecture was leading her to these gardens. It’s funny then to think that she hasn’t been there yet. She’s been to art galleries and parks and mountainside hikes and to the opera house. Yet, she hasn’t been to the part of Misthaven that seems to truly lie at its heart. This place that has existed to capture and memorialize the pain of a nation. Emma’s engaged in that pain through stories, through personal testimonies, but she hasn’t let herself be fully immersed in it.

Until now. That’s why she’s here. She wants to feel it all. She wants to understand Princess Emma who was lost, who was murdered on this night. Maybe if she can make sense of it, she’ll stop feeling guilty for a crime she didn’t commit.

The gardens are wooded with the same lovely old trees that Emma noticed in their other forest walks and in the woods near the Du Bois house in Belgium. There isn’t any snow today, because of the unusually warm weather. Indian Summer is what Emma used to call it in America. She wonders if it has the same name here.

She reaches for Killian’s hand and leans on his shoulder. They walk through the forested path till they reach a clearing. It’s all neat gardens here, arranged in a European style with a long pool down the middle, flowering artfully arranged on either side. 

“There is a walled garden over there,” Killian says, pointing. “And a bog garden over in that part. There is even a Japanese garden in that area. The Royal Family put it in while I lived there.”

Emma sighs. “I want to know more about that.”

“About what?” Killian asks.

“I want to know what it was like when you lived here. When you left here, that night. Can you tell me?” Her voice is small, soft.

He nods and tugs on her hand. They walk around the castle. Her eyes are drawn to the high ramparts, the swirling towers of the castle in the imposing grey stone. In this back part of the castle a long meadow stretches out, forming a grassy plane that gives way to the forest.

Killian beckons her to a bench. They sit.

“I don’t remember it perfectly,” he says softly. “I was very young.”

She nods, scooching over so that their legs touch. His arm wraps around her back. The other points up at a tower.

“Do you see that? It’s the princess’s tower,” he says. “We knew it was coming for weeks, that there was a threat to the kingdom, a barbarian rebellion brewing deep in the town. There were preparations made. The King and Queen worked out a plan with Liam to make sure the Princess could escape. They knew that their fates were likely fixed, but they wanted Emma to have her best chance to live.”

Emma looks at the tiny tower at the top of the castle, imagining inside a little girl’s bedroom.

Killian continues, “Liam was posted to Princess Emma’s room and stayed there day and night with her till the threat passed or came to fruition. I was ordered to stay there with her as well, so I’d have a chance to escape under Liam’s protection. Liam was to go to America with the girl to seek asylum there. I wasn’t allowed to go, there was worry that one more child would make the thing so risky.”

Emma nods, watching the story dance across Killian’s face.

“Gods, Emma, I wish I could forget that night. It’s haunted me my whole life. Sometimes I still dream about it.”

Regret seeps through her. She’s asked too much of him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You don’t have to keep going. I didn’t know-“

He shakes his head, before reaching out to stroke her hair. “Emma, I want you to know all my stories. Even the hard ones. The haunting ones.”

She reaches out to run a thumb over his eyebrow, then along his jawline.

“That night there were gunshots in the castle that awoke us and everything was put into motion. Liam smashed the window, the beautiful stained glass one in the Princess’s room. He had this repelling kit that was already ready to go. He had me hold onto his back and put the Princess flush against his chest. We repelled down and it was terrifying. We didn’t know if there were snipers in the woods. If there were, I’d be the first shot. There were arrows, no guns. It’s hard to get weapons inside of Misthaven, so we think now that they only gave those to insurgents. Anyway, the arrows flickered by my head and I wondered if I was going to die.”

Emma can’t imagine a boy so young dealing with such a terrifying realization. 

“When we were half way down, I heard the worst noise I’d ever heard. There was a gun shot, then a scream. I recognized as the Queen’s and I knew she’d been murdered. If she was dead, then surely so was the King. I remembered how kind they were, caring for me and Liam after everything we’d been through. They gave me a chance at an education, a chance to have a good home, to be well-fed even. And now they were gone.”

Emma gulps. She thinks of the woman she knows who is full of more compassion than she’s ever known. She suddenly sees a new side of Mary Margaret. The side that cared for Killian as a child. She might not be her mother, but she was something of that for Killian. Emma’s heart soars at the thought. She can picture Mary Margaret doting on a tiny Killian, reading him books and giving him bon bons. 

“My brother told me to run when we reached the ground. He told me I’d be safe at my grans. He took off in one direction with the Princess and I went in another. I didn’t know that’d be the last time I’d see him. I thought that maybe one day he’d return to me. Or he’d call or send for me. There was nothing. I ran through those woods on my own, my heart thumping in my chest, wondering if I’d get caught, if I’d be found. But I wasn’t. I made it to my grans’ safely. She was surprised to see me. She wasn’t particularly nurturing, too old to be as grandma-like as I’d hoped, but she provided for me.”

Emma senses his story ending and leans her head against his shoulder. 

“I’m shocked that the queen survived. I’m still upset, sometimes, that Liam didn’t. I used to lie in bed at night as a teenager, when I was in the young offender’s institution, and look at the ceiling and think about that scream. I used to be so angry at the Princess. She was off in America with my brother and here I was alone and betrayed. It’s sad now, I suppose. They both are dead. I was the one who was better off.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek. His arms wrap around her back and he pulls her to him.

She doesn’t realize that he’s teared up until he says in a choked-up voice, “You don’t know how much joy you’ve brought to my life, Emma. I was so sad. I was struggling for so long. And you’ve given me so much hope.”

“Oh Killian,” she replies. “You’ve given me so much too. I’m so grateful for you. Every day.”

There was a part of her that was fighting for so long; that was angry and walled up and hurt for so long. But Killian broke those walls down. Mary Margaret did too. Misthaven truly has been responsible for everything good in her life.

She wishes she could thank it. She wishes she could give something back to this place that has given everything to her.

Her eyes sweep across the field, as she imagines little Princess Emma running across it with Liam. It’s almost too real, too vivid before her eyes.

Where the field meets the forest, she sees something for a moment that she thinks is a figure. At first she shivers, thinking they’ve been watched this whole time. But the figure is too still to be real. There’s three figures. 

Oh.

“Is that a statue over there?” She asks Killian.

He nods.

“Let’s go see it,” she says.

They walk across the field slowly, hand clasped tight. The field is dotted with wild flowers, beautiful in the bright light of Indian Summer, but for a moment she imagines them as arrows. She can see the scene of horror, almost too vividly, almost too real, like a ghost of trauma that existed here. It’s like pain dwells so deeply in this space that she can see it before her, as if she was there.

They read the statue. It’s brass, shiny, showing how new the pain is. This isn’t the kind of revolution that happened years ago, but one that floods the memory of everyone in this small country. 

The statue is of a family, the Royal Family. She sees Mary Margaret at once. Her hair was longer then, wavy and young. She was so young. 

And the King. Emma’s not thought much about the King, as if he was just a side character to this story, but she sees him now, kind-faced and noble. She wonders if he played little games with Princess Emma. She wonders if Mary Margaret loved him as fiercely as Emma herself loves Killian. Yes, she thinks, she must have.

Her eyes finally find the Princess. Emma can’t help but take a step closer. The small girl, with ringlets and a familiar tiara. With a lurch in her gut, Emma knows why it looks familiar. It’s the same she saw in the pawn shop where they met the hooded man in August. It couldn’t be… but she knows it could.

She follows the little girl’s features, her wide eyes, so full of curiosity and hope for the future. Emma fills with rage at everything taken from her, that future ripped away from the small girl.

Emma’s gaze finally lands on her chin. Without thinking, Emma lifts her hand to let her thumb rub over the tiny dip in her chin, just as Killian has done many times to Emma herself. They’ve all been right. They are the same.

It’s so silly, she thinks now, that they wanted to plan this giant con based on blond hair, an accent, and a dimpled chin. It only makes her feel more stupid, more guilty. 

So guilty, in fact. It slams Emma in its enormity, tears springing unwillingly to her eyes. So much has been taken away from this family, from Queen Mary Margaret, and she was willing to continue that. Emma wanted to continue to hurt this woman who has been hurt more than anyone deserves in one lifetime. 

Emma feels nauseous, dizzy. She can’t be here. She can’t be part of this. In even planning out the impersonation, she participated in this violence against Misthaven. She’s perpetrated the same crime that has been carelessly carried out by greedy girls, by violent men, by rebels who sought to hurt the country that has given her everything.

“Emma,” Killian asks, grasping her arm as she begins to sway. “Are you alright, love?”

She doesn’t want his companionship right now. She’s struggling for breath and the only thing that can free her is admission of the truth. 

“I just need some space,” she says. “Do you mind if I walk a bit on my own? I need to clear my mind.”

“Yes, of course, Swan,” he says, dutiful as ever. “I’m going to read for a bit in the English gardens, just around the other side. Come find me when you need me.”

He presses a kiss to her cheek, as her eyes stay glued on the statue.

“Emma,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

She turns to him. He cups her face in his hands, his eyes sincere with concern.

“Don’t get lost in your thoughts, love. Don’t build higher walls.”

She tries to nod, but instead, he lurches forward to put a kiss on her lips. There is an edge of desperation to his lips, as if he is trying to keep her with him. As if he knows what’s on her mind and wants to keep her grounded, before chaos erupts. As if he knows they might only have now.

“I know,” she says, trying to give him a smile.

He squeezes her hand before he walks away.

Emma stays at the statue, her gaze meeting the Princess’s for a few moments as she watches Killian round the castle and out of sight. With her mind made up, she turns. She feels like she’s possessed by a force not of her own. It’s like her feet are willing her in the direction of castle, regardless of what her mind says is foolish or right.

She approaches from a side entrance. There are security guards there with metal detecting wands. They search her bag and let her enter. Inside, sits a desk with a receptionist. She’s struck by how tiny Misthaven is. If this was anywhere else, she wouldn’t even be able to get this far.

“Hi, I’m Emma Swan,” she says. “Is it possible I could speak with Prime Minister Mills? She knows who I am and I think she’d like to listen to me.”

The woman looks surprised, maybe at Emma’s accent or how forward she is, but she nods and picks up the phone. She speaks something in French for a few moments, before turning back to Emma. 

“The Prime Minister will be down in a few moments,” she says.

Emma nods, trying to stay calm. She looks around what she thought was a lobby, but now she recognizes it as an entrance hall to a castle. There are twin tapestries on each wall, ornate gold cross hatching across the roof.  A magnificent chandelier dangles in the middle of the ceiling.

She wanders closer to the wall, almost in a trance. She wants to reach out and touch the wall, feel the cold stone under her fingers. She feels like she’s lost in one of her old childhood dreams of castle corridors. She shivers as she pulls up the tendrils of memory from those dreams- being a Princess, waiting for someone to save her. She thinks again of social workers from her childhood. The ones who told her that her brain made up those stories, those dreams, to mask whatever truly horrible thing had happened to her as a child. She wonders if she and Princess Emma are akin in that way- having brunt trauma as a child. There’s that.

“Emma,” a voice interrupts.

She was expecting to hear the crisp tutting of, “Miss Swan,” from the Prime Minister. But instead, Emma turns to see the Queen. Her heart swoops.

“What are you doing here?” Mary Margaret asks.

Emma shakes her head, “I was looking to see the Prime Minister, but actually, you’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“Oh?” The Queen says.

“I think we should talk,” Emma says.

“Yes, okay,” Mary Margaret replies. “There is a quiet sitting room in the center of the castle. I’ll tell Prime Minister Mills to meet us there when she can. I was just visiting her earlier today and I know she’s quite busy with errands today. Poor dear, on a Saturday too.”

Emma doesn’t have words to form, so she simply nods. Her stomach feels queasy again and dizziness floats through her. God, her hand is shaking.

Emma knows what she has to say. She knows what she has to do.

She follows the Queen through the hallways, until they approach an insignificant looking door. The queen pushes the door and it leads to a small chamber. It’s a bizarre place, with octagon walls and only two doors- one of the floor and one at the top of a tall staircase that curves around the room.

“There are only two entrances,” the Queen explains. “One from the ground floor and one from the Royal Offices, which is now the Prime Minister’s office.”

“Oh,” Emma says, looking up.

An octagonal piece of stained glass covers the ceiling, filling the chamber with colored light everywhere.

“Shall we sit?” Mary Margaret asks. “I can ring for some tea if you wish.”

“No tea,” Emma says. 

She feels weird being with the Queen not at her Summer Palace, or the Southern Palace. This space that feels so loaded with sad memories.

They sit in two armchairs in the room. There isn’t much in the chamber- an ornate rug, a fireplace, and a trunk being used a table. It’s so cramped in the small space, yet so much empty air hangs between them.

“I have to tell you everything,” Emma whispers.

“Tell me what, my dear?” The queen asks.

“I have to tell you about what we did, or tried to do,” Emma says. 

“Whatever do you mean?” Mary Margaret reaches for Emma’s hand.

She pulls it away. “Killian and I. We befriended you under selfish pretenses, awful pretenses. And I feel wretched about it.”

Emma feels the tears returning, sticking in her throat. “I think I’ll feel awful about it till the day I die.”

The queen frowns and nods Emma to continue.

“We both were in need of money. I needed, and still need, to fund my last semester of graduate school. Killian’s always wanted to open a bookshop. We both had these dreams that needed funding. Killian was approached by a man who wanted to offer us money for me to impersonate the Lost Princess. We were both uncomfortable with the situation and said no,” Emma pauses to sniffle, to breath, to force the words out. 

The Queen mistakes that for the end of her admission. “Thanks for telling me. You did the right thing.” 

Emma shakes her head. “We didn’t. The more we thought about it, the more we realized that I am very similar to how the lost Princess, your daughter, might be. I have an American accent. I have blond hair, green eyes-“ Emma looks up at the queen, at the bits of her face that mirror her own. “I have your chin. We both knew that you might believe that I am your daughter. We sought out your friendship in hopes that we might profit off it. It was selfish and greedy. We celebrated each time that you thought I might be your daughter.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret breathes. Her face is disappointed, as she should be.

“We kind of gave up on it over time. I think I realized that my friendship with you was enough. That I didn’t need to convince you to think I am your daughter for you to treat me with that same care. But if I really knew better, I’d have told you up front about our plan. I still deceived you.”

The queen swallows and frowns.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, burning with shame. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to tell you. I’m sorry I got mad at you for keeping secrets when I was keeping secrets of my own.”

“What makes you tell me now?” The queen says.

“Ever since Killian found out that the child, Alice, wasn’t his, I’ve been realizing something” Emma murmurs. She realizes that there are tears on her face. “That same pain that Killian was going through, it was exactly what had happened to you time and time again. You’d gotten your hopes up. You thought you’d found a family, but you just were being tricked. And I was doing that to you too.”

There is a moment of silence between them, tension waivers in the air. Emma waits for her admonishment. Or a prison sentence. Or whatever she feels she need to tell Emma. 

But Emma is free now. The guilt that has clung to her grossly, sticking behind her knees, making her scratchy, is gone now. She wipes away the tears that linger the creases of her eyes. Whatever comes, she said what she needed to.

“I’m leaving in just a few weeks or so,” Emma says. “But I can leave sooner. Or if there is some other punishment, whatever it is. I’m sorry.”

The Queen’s assembles her visage, before closing her eyes and sighing. 

“Emma, this isn’t your fault,” Mary Margaret tells her. 

“But-” Emma starts, looking at her hands. She twists them awkwardly, too ashamed to look at the queen.

“I told you months ago. You are valuable to me. You matter to me,” The queen says. “I didn’t say that to you because I thought you were my daughter.”

Emma looks up.

“I said it because you are my friend, my mentee,” the queen said. “I do admit, I got my hopes up at first that maybe you were her. I wanted to share things I loved about her with you. I wanted you to fill her void. But that day, when Regina found us when we were riding, I realized that I cared about you Emma Swan, not Princess Emma. I connected with you. With the girls that came before you, they were fake in their interests. They weren’t lovers of literature, like you are. They didn’t care about opera or tea or intelligent conversation. You’re different, Emma. You’re authentic.”

The queen’s speech makes her feel dizzy. She doesn’t know if she should fall into her arms and together share a soulful cry, hearts joined in a combined lost-and-found reunion. Another part of Emma, the part of her that is instinctual and conditioned from a lifetime of loneliness, just wants to start running.

Before Emma’s internal conflict can come to fruition, a voice interrupts them.

“Your majesty, your highness,” A voice says from above.

Both of their heads turn to take in Prime Minister Mills walking down the stairs.

“Prime Minister,” Emma says.

“Regina,” Mary Margaret echoes.

“I thought I’d interrupt,” Regina says, midway down the staircase, “I hope you don’t mind. I heard you were looking for me, Miss Swan, and I am in fact, looking for you as well.”

Emma turns to face where Regina has curved around the room on the stairs. Her stilettos beat out a staccato against the steps.

“Oh right, sorry to bother you Prime Minister,” she mumbles. “I heard you are very busy today.”

“No, you were one of the people I needed to see today, so honestly it’s perfect timing,” Regina says, walking down the final curve. “I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation, your Majesty, but I also believe that I am about to make an entrance at the perfect time as well.”

Emma and Mary Margaret exchange confused glances.

“This week, during our usual meeting, you mentioned that Emma had forgiven you and that you’d agreed to be friends again. As you both know, I’ve been concerned about your friendship for a while. While you both protested that there was no false hope between either of you, we both know that was a lie. You’ve both just said it yourself.”

Emma wants to protest, but she knows that the Prime Minister is right. They did just say it.

“So, I went ahead and did something a little wild. I hope you forgive me, but I am, in fact, Prime Minister. I had samples of DNA taken from each of your places of residence and tested. I must admit, I was a little impatient to get to the bottom of it and find out once and for all who this woman is.” 

She gives a vague wave at Emma.

“The lab tests came back this morning. Emma Swan, Your Royal Highness, you are Her Majesty’s daughter.”

The news slams into Emma. She grips a table to steady herself as the world seems to move around her. 

She’s the lost princess? She’s Princess Emma? 

But she can’t be. It must be a joke. A prank. It must be some sort of “get this little orphan’s hopes up and then crush them.” Because she can’t actually be the kind of person that anyone cares about this much. She’s a fake. She’s an impersonator. She’s the kind of person who has had to work her whole life to every tiny thing. She can’t be a princess.  

But yet, she looks up and Queen Mary Margaret’s eyes are full of love, tears rimming her eyes. 

“Yes, of course, she is,” Mary Margaret whispers.

Emma tries to think of Mary Margaret as her mother. She tries to apply the word mom to the elegant queen before her. But all she can think about is how small the room is, how oppressive the walls feel, and trapped she feels. She knows she’s not trapped. She knows that she finally has a family, which is honestly what she’s wanted her whole life. But all she wants is to run. 

“Sorry,” Emma says. “I just… I have to go.”

She doesn’t turn back to look at the shock on Mary Margaret or Regina’s face. She doesn’t try to process the tears in her own eyes or the fact that this lifelong instinct of running is kicking in. All she can think is that she has to get out.

--

Sorry for a long long delay on this chapter! Let me know if you read it so I can figure out if I should keep going on finishing it!

[footballerimaginess]

The First Date

Antoine Griezmann please? Maybe a first date? But he’s known her for years and they never got together because it was never the right time but now he’s in Barcelona and he’s close to her, he thinks about taking that chance? A - Z For My Alphabet Series! Word Count: 943 You and Antoine were going out for a date, the first time actually. Your dating history hadn’t been the best. You had come out of a long term relationship of 6 years. He was your first love, he broke your heart into so many pieces. It was absolutely awful. Antoine knew that you were in a relationship, while he was out in Madrid you kept in constant contact. This was only on a friendship level, your boyfriend knew all of this. The timing wasn’t right between you both, you really loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to mess it up. but in the end he messed you around. There was no way that you could start anything yet. But when you scrolled through your phone and realised that Antoine had finally joined Barcelona. He was now so close to you which was so exiting. Maybe this was the right time after all these years. Once he wad finishing signing everything for Barcelona, you pondered on whether you should make the first contact. It had been a few months since you had spoke, it was quite nervous thinking about the whole thing. You weren’t sure whether you were right for each other but was he even thinking the same. He could be in a new relationship. That could be why he was so distant you thought to yourself. Maybe it was just a coincidence. A few days had passed.. Antoine was now fully settled in Barcelona and had a few days off from pre season games. He was heading away to Japan. He knew that you lived close by so he thought he would give you a call. “Hello” you answered. “Hi” you smiled as you heard his voice. “Its been a while since I have spoken, guessing you have seen the news. Me now living in Barcelona” you laughed. “Yes I have seen babe, well done. Its an incredible move for you. I am so happy for you babe” you told him as you felt Antoine’s smile beaming through the  phone. “Aww thank you darling. I was wondering I leave or Japan in a few days. maybe we could meet up” he suggested. “Yes I would love that” you grinned. “Okay how about tonight? Are you free?” He asked, pausing waiting in anticipation for his reply. “Yes I am free tonight, text me where we are going and I will see you there” you suggested to Antoine. “No I will come pick you up, I have a car for a few weeks” Antoine said. “Of course I will see you then babe” You finished with the phone call and decided you needed to find something nice to wear. This was the hard part, you had no idea what you were doing. You were guessing where he would take you. He was giving no hints at al which was frustrating. Antoine text you where you were going because he knew what you would be like, stressing out about what to wear. You replied with your address, just in case he forgot. “I know where you live babe remember” you laughed at his reply. “just checking, its been a while” you replied adding with a winking face.  Once you were finished getting ready, you applied your makeup, Trying to make an effort for Antoine. You took a moment to yourself, taking a look at what you were wearing. You breathed out heavily, looking at what you think of your outfit. you nodded in appreciation to the outfit. There was a knock on your door, you took a deep breath ready to answer the door. “Hi babe, wow you look insane” Antoine complimented you as he kissed you in the cheek. “Hello, oh thanks babe. You look pretty good yourself” Antoine laughed as he took your hand. “thanks babe” you smiled. Antoine drove you to this really nice restaurant. “This place wow, I cant believe you have taken me here” you said as you sat down at your table. “Its pretty, well its our first date isn’t it. I had to take you somewhere special babe” you blushed. “Oh right, I didn’t realise this was our first date? I am glad you finally rang me. I had been thinking about you when I saw you had joined Barcelona” you shied away from him. “Aww really, I didn’t think you would especially what with being in a relationship. Guessing that ended?” he laughed. “Hmm ended pretty badly, lets just forget that. I don’t want to talk about that piece of shit. Anyway, you are finally playing for Barcelona now? That’s incredible. I am so proud of you” you had the biggest smile as Antoine’s face lit up. “Thank you so much, it has taken a long time for this moment. But I am so happy” Antoine’s face beamed. “I am glad you are closer to me now. Maybe things can be different, I know everything has seemed to get in the way but I am happy things can be right now” Antoine pulled your hand and gently rubbed it with his thumb. “Yes maybe, we can finally be together. But lets go on more dates. I reckon you should let me come see you play. It has been too long” He nodded in agreement. “I agree” “You can plan the next date babe, this is our first one remember” you nodded. “Yes babe I know. I will find something fun. Once you are back from Japan. So don’t miss me too much babe” you smirked. “Of course, don’t miss my curly head too much” you rolled our eyes. “Don’t be too cocky babe” you shoved his arm.

[howardpotts]

A Little Spark - Part 2

The second time

Summary: Thor made you breakfast. You seduce him one more time, making things hot in the shower. ;)

Warnings: s m u t

Wordcount: 3241

A/N: Y E S, i’m so feeling this little fanfiction. I’m not done with this yet ;) Let me know what you think! And thanks for liking/reblogging my stuff! I really appreciate it! <3

Wanna be tagged? Message me!

It’s 8 in the morning when your alarm wakes you up. You hit your alarm a few times before it shuts up. You look at the other side of the bed, but it’s empty.

Of course. Just like you thought; a one night stand.

You drag yourself out of bed, still feeling satisfied with the fact that you finally got laid last night. And you got laid with no other than the fucking God of Thunder. You felt a little bit of an ache down there, but it was a good one, not a painful one. It made you rethink about last night, especially about the little bolts he sent through your body.

You lazily walk to your livingroom to put on the news, but you stop the moment you hear some rumbling in the kitchen.

No way, is he still here?

When you walk in to the kitchen, you see Thor cooking something on your stove. Guess it’s a good thing he feels like he’s home. You cough quietly to grab his attention.

With a smile, Thor turns around. “You’re awake!” He walks to you and gives you a soft kiss on your temple. A little smile appears on your face. “What are you cooking?”, you ask curiously as you walk to the stove.

“I learned this from Tony. Scrambled eggs with bacon is what you Midgardians call it, right?” The smell makes your belly rumble.

You get two plates and some cutlery and put it on the kitchen table. He grabs the pan from the stove and joins you. “I hope you enjoy it.” You grab his hand and squeeze it softly. “I’m pretty sure I will.”

When the first bite reaches your tongue, a small moan leaves your mouth. “Yes, this is just what I needed”, you say with your eyes closed.

When you open them, a smiley Thor stares at you, his cheeks a bit red.

Red? Is he blushing because you just complimented him on his cooking ? “What? Did you doubt yourself?”, you ask. He shakes his head. “I love it when you make that sound.”

This time it’s you who’s blushing, realising the moan you let out. Your gaze goes to the food in front of you, not really daring to look the God in the eye again. “I guess you give me everything I needed”, you say. First the D, now this delicious meal.

“It’s my goal to give you everything you desire”, he says and grabs your hand again. You now have the courage to look at him again. “Well… Then… I have a list”, you joke. A low husky laugh leaves his mouth. Shit, his laugh is sexy.

You eat in silence for a few seconds, before Thor speaks up again. “If you don’t mind me asking; how did you become a part of the Avengers?”, he asks curiously before taking another bite of his bacon. You knew this question was coming, but you didn’t expect it so soon.

“Well”, you say, “I kind of discovered my powers a year ago. My fosterparents always told me I did weird things when I was a kid, but I never did them when I grew up; as if I had forgotten them.”

You take a sip of your coffee before you continue with the story. Thor has his full attention on you. “And last year I discovered my powers again, when a man made me lose my temper. I discovered again that I can control stones. I hurt him pretty bad, which I didn’t regret at that time, but later on I did felt sorry for him. I searched for help and ended up here. Tony did a lot of experiments on me before I was even allowed to practice my skill.”

He nods and swallows his food. “What did the man do to enrage you like that?” His eyes glister, making it unable for you to look away. The God was perfect in any way possible, but you tried not to get consumed by it. This little adventure will be over within an hour.

“He cheated on me”, you say outright and monotone. At the time you might feel enraged and depressed, but you grew and got over the brat. You know it’s not your fault, you’re just really glad you dodged the bullet before taking it to the next level.

Thor shuffles in his seat. “Only a dumb fool would cheat on such beautiful woman.” The words made your heart skip a beat, but you don’t show it. The only thing you give him is a simple smile. “Well, life be like that sometimes”, you shrug. “He’s gone now.”

You take another bite, still enjoying the food as if it’s the first bite. Slowly you feel a little bit of a heat between your legs. Could it be possible to… seduce the God for one more go? Just one more, that’s enough.

You hold back a mischievous smile and moan one more time for the food in your mouth. “Ohh, this food is so good”, you say, the ‘good’ also being half a moan.

Thor looks at you with his bottom lip in his mouth. You’re not sure if it’s working or if he’s holding a laugh for your pathetic performance.

Deliberately you leave a bit of food on the corner of your mouth. You chew the rest of your food. “You- you have a little-“, the God points to his own mouth.

You fake a little ‘o’ before brushing your finger down your bottom lip and taking the food away at the corner. You bring your finger in your mouth just a little further than necessary. You hollow your cheeks and slowly put your finger out of your mouth, releasing your finger with a pop.

Thor is staring at you, but you ignore his gaze. You need him to snap, but you don’t know if you can get a God to snap. But it’s worth a shot, that’s for sure. Your body is heating up slowly, while you think about last night and how you want it again.

You get a sip out of your glass of orange juice before ‘accidentally’ putting it on your fork; causing it to spill all over the table and Thor’s pants. Excellent.

“Oh shi- I’m sorry, let me clean that up”, you say before Thor even gets a change to get up himself. You rush to the kitchen counter, a sly smile on your face when he can’t see you. You get a towel and turn around, the smile gone when you face him again.

You get on the floor next to him and make sure that you’re on your knees. You look up at him with your most innocent eyes. “I’m really sorry.” You put the towel on his pants and gently rub his leg all the way up to his private parts.

You look to the God again, who’s now grinning at you. The left corner of your lips curls up before focussing on the mess you made on the floor. You get the towel of the God and drop it on the floor.

“Leave the mess.” His voice is husky and low. He wasn’t giving advice, but he was rather commanding. “Let’s clean ourselfs up in the shower.”

You leave the towel for what it is and stand up in an instant. You go to the bathroom immediately and turn on the shower for the water to get hot. Thor walks in with his shirt already lost somewhere in the livingroom.

Even though you’ve seen the sight in front of you before, it still makes you stare. He chuckles and walks towards you. He gently helps you out of your clothes, making a pile of it just next to you.

When he rids you of your bra, he stares at your breasts again. He cups them with his hands and kneads them, his eyes never leaving the sight. You let out a little moan and steady yourself by gripping his hip.

His eyes shoot up to yours, but yours are closed. You’re concentrating on the feeling the God is giving you. He lets go of your breasts, making your eyes pop open and a whine coming out of your mouth. You needed his touch.

“We’re solely here for cleaning purposes”, he grins and rids himself from his pants. You shake your head, smiling from his teasing.

When you’re out of your panties, you’re the first to get under the streaming hot water. You close your eyes when you feel the water covering every inch of you, your fingers trailing your own body.

Thor’s enjoying the view; watching you getting relaxed while the water is running down your skin. His cock is twitching, pre-cum around the top it.

You open your eyes and are met with a fully naked Thor. Is it weird that you could come from his sight alone? You hold out your hand and crook your finger, signalling to join you.

He doesn’t hesitate and joins you willingly. Not in the mood to wait any longer, he pushes you against the wall and kisses you passionately. You moan in his mouth, a few water drops slipping in your mouth.

He presses his cock against your folds, letting you know that he can’t wait for what will come. One of his hands are in your hair, the other on your ass.  You scratch his back lightly with your nails, which causes Thor to moan. “What you’re doing to me”, he whispers in your ear. His voice so raw and low, it only turns you on more. It’s so.. manly.

As much as you hated to admit, you’re a sucker for a man taking care of you while heating things up. You’re always saying things like ‘women don’t need men’ and ‘we can do whatever we want’, but at those moments you’re so willing to do whatever he pleases.

He pushes his weight on you a bit more, his cock leaving more pressure on your folds. You throw your head back to the wall while biting your bottom lip. You needed him so bad, you wanted his touch all over your body, his cock slamming in and out of you.

As if he can hear your mind, he leaves your ass and spreads your legs. He takes a bit of a distance between the two of you to make room for his hand to sneak to your folds.

Again, he kisses you hard and with passion, while his hand is teasing you with rubbing your inner thighs. He bites your bottom lip. You moan and buck your hips.

He releases your bottom lip and lowers his head to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses everywhere. “Thor, please”, you whine. You really needed some action and he was delaying you from it.

“I’m doing to you what you did to me, my dove”, he says. He finds the sweet spot in your neck and a moan leaves your mouth. You feel his lips tighten, which means he’s smiling. You wanted to scoff at him to take that grin of his face, but instead another moan leaves your mouth when he’s sucking that same sweet spot.

His hand is now sliding over your folds, still waiting to rub your clit. “Please, I’m sorry, just, do something”, you say. “I’m sorry, I won’t-“ You get cut off by him slipping in and reaching your clit. His finger making fast 8’s.

Your legs weaken, so you grab a hold of his shoulder. His head jumps up and he looks at you. He presses his forehead to you, but continues to star in your eyes. You stare back, his lustful eyes making you more weak than you already were.

He pushes a finger in to you, soon a second joins. “You feel amazing around my fingers”, he pants while quickly pumping them in and out of you. You respond with a small cry of enjoyment.

A third finger pushes in as well, stretching your walls up a bit. “Jesus”, you pant as you feel yourself close to the edge. Your hands are still holding on to his shoulders to make sure you ‘re not falling.

“That’s a different guy”, he says. A smile appears on your face, but disappears just seconds after when the knot in your stomach explodes. A series full of moans, groans, pants leave your mouth. Thor catches them all with his lips close to yours.

Your legs shake and you have trouble holding yourself up, but somehow manage to stay where you are. Thor’s fingers go in and out for another few times, but leave when your orgasm is done.

He wanted to clean them in the shower, but you grab them quickly. One by one you put them in your mouth to clean them yourself. Thors mouth is open, taking it all in.

After you’ve licked them clean, you drag your hand from his chest to his abs, stopping by his cock. You wanted to grab it, but he stops you.

He set both of his hands under your ass. “Jump”, he says and you obey. You know what’s about to come so a smile is set on your face. You can’t wait to feel his cock inside you.

“So this was your little plan”, he growls while looking at his cock, which is pressed against your folds again. You nod innocently. “And it worked”, you say proudly.

He growls something along the lines of ‘of course’, but you weren’t sure. He stares at your body for a few seconds, before slowly pressing his cock in you. You throw your head back while you feel him fill you up.

Again, you’re surprised how big he is. He keeps going deeper and deeper and you wonder if it’s ever going to stop. He groans and bottoms himself out in one push, which makes you moan. He looks up at you to see if you’re in pain, but that’s not what you’re feeling. You’re feeling full, happy, excited and so turned on.

He starts to push slowly, your walls getting used to the size of him. He leans forward and pushes himself in to the crook of your neck. When he finds a comfortable position, he starts the real work. Pushing in and out of you as if the world depends on it.

“Fuck, yes, oh- yes!”, you moan. He growls at your reaction, pumping in and out even faster.

After a few more pushes, he gets himself out and lets you down. You look at him as innocent as you can. “Odin help me”, he says when he looks in your eyes.

He firmly grips your hips and twists you around. Your face is now facing the bathroom wall. You stand on your toes and stick out your ass a bit so he can access your pussy more easily.

He gives you a small slap on your cheeks, a small ‘hm’ is coming out of your mouth. You feel him enter again, bottoming out in one push this time.

Your hands are supporting on you on the wall so you don’t get pushed flat on it. Thor begins thrusting again and you can feel your arms getting weaker, not able to handle your and Thor’s weight.

Slowly you get pushed against the wall, the cold stone touching your nipples. Another moan leaves your mouth. “Fuck yes”, you hiss. 

His hands were on your hips the entire time, but left to grab your hands and put them above you. His grip was firm. His hips buck in to you even harder. “Shit, feels so good”, you manage to get out.

Your fingers scratch the bathroom wall, searching for something to get a grip on. You feel another knot starting to grow in your stomach.

“You look so beautiful. So good under me”, Thor pants. He lets go of your hands and grabs your shoulders. Whenever he bucks his hips to you, he pushes your body down on his cock as well. A load moan echoes through the bathroom. Maybe today was the day that he was going to really fuck your brains out.

“I- I’m c-coming, my- my king”, you manage. Somehow you knew he was going to like it so you went for it, and god did he like it. He gritted his teeth, a loud groan leaving his mouth before speaking up.

“I want to feel you come, fuck-“, he says as he tries to keep up the pace, heavy pants coming out of his mouth. His hands leaving your shoulders, going back to your hips.

Your legs shake and you come again. Your body is hot, but the bathroomwall is cool against your skin. You shudder at every little touch you feel.

Thor’s thrusts get sloppy real fast and than he releases in you. He grabs your hips tightly, his head is now in your neck, head resting on the wall that you’ve been pushed to a few minutes ago. You can feel how he’s releasing in you, so you hold as still as possible.

When he’s over his orgasm, he gets himself out and turns you around again. He presses his lips on yours for a few seconds, before leaving them again. His eyes are still closed when he presses his forehead to yours. You’re both trying to calm down, your hearts racing in your chest. You also have your eyes closed, enjoying his company and his sweet touches.

He gets his head up again and opens his eyes. You’re both slowly getting down from your high. A sweet smile appears on his face, making you blush. He’s so sweet and adorable, you can’t ignore that. You can’t ignore how he has threated you.

When he steps back in to the streaming water, you’re secretly whining in your head that he’s not touching you anymore. You just want to cuddle up with him. You want to watch a movie with him and for him to absentmindedly massage your hair. You just want him to stay. But you know he won’t. Even if you both wanted him to; he has business on Asgard.

Thor grabs your hand and pulls you in to the water as well. He grabs your bottle of shampoo and puts a bit on his hand. You turn around slowly and turn your back to him.

He grabs massages the shampoo in your hair carefully. It feels so nice and warm. A light smile is on your face and your eyes are closed, taking in every touch he leaves on your head.

When he has rubbed it all in, you take a step back in to the water and let the shampoo stream from your hair, to your body, to the ground. You do the same to him, and give him a little shampoo-massage.

-

When you’re fully dressed and ready for work, you give him one last look. Will this be the last of your adventure? Please, let it not be.

You wouldn’t complain if this would become a weekly, hell a daily, thing. Him coming to your apartment, or maybe you coming to his. Discovering new places, positions and touches. God, you’d love that.

You grab an apple and give another one to Thor. “We’re late”, you say as you watch the clock. You should’ve been in the compound five minutes ago.

______________________________

Tags:

@cuteafricanbunny @sophiatomlinson23

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Outside Influences ch.3

Summary: Oh, right, Rus and Edge have a chance to remember that they actually don’t like each other very much. 

Tags:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Off-Screen Attempted Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Aftermath of Violence, Pre-Spicyhoney, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, Aftermath of Attempted Sexual Assault

Notes: Why am I still writing this? Maybe because Rus needed a chance to show his teeth. 

Please read the warnings on this one!!

Chapter One | Chapter Two

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was still awake some hours later when he heard his brother return in a rattle of door locks. Unlike his counterparts, Red was less prone to shortcutting his way around the Underground. Neither of them could afford for Red to ever be low on magic if it could be helped and one opportunity to teleport could mean the difference between dusting and more lives than their own.

A glance at the bed confirmed that Rus was sleeping peacefully enough now. Too pale yet, the normally warm tint his magic brought to his bones absent. What little was visible, anyway. He was wrapped up in the blankets, smothered into them with only his skull showing. Those unsettling whimpers had eased some time ago and he was safer in Edge’s bedroom than nearly any other place in Underfell. With that in mind, Edge rose silently to his feet, prowling downstairs to demand more answers from his brother.

Red was still at the door, for once kicking off his snowy shoes on the mat, meltwater spreading in a darkening puddle around them.

“hey, boss,” Red grumbled. He stripped off his damp jacket and beneath Edge’s watchful gaze, reluctantly hung it in the closet. “shitty fucking weather, storm’s blowin’ up. that’ll keep everyone inside, anyway, less trouble for a while.”

“What did you find?”

“eh, everythin’ll hold ‘till the storm’s over. the traps looked good, dogs are safe at their stations and—”

Edge interrupted him before he could build up too much steam. “If you’re going to insist upon this dance every time I ask a question about him, I am quickly going to lose patience and I will take it out on you.”

It was not an idle threat and his brother knew it well. The rest of the Underground did not know the real level of Red’s strength, concealed beneath the reality of his lazier nature. It was a charade they’d been playing together for years and those who discovered the truth were not ones destined to survive long after. But for him to best Edge in a fight required effort that Red rarely liked to put forth. That Red still hesitated was telling, weighing consequences as he scratched the back of skull, "bro, i don't know-"

"Tell me," Edge ground out. Frustrating as it was for Rus to be keeping secrets, that at least was understandable. Red kept enough from him, far too much. He wasn’t going to tolerate it this time.

Finally, Red stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "lot more marrow on the inside of his sweatshirt than the outside. he definitely had some broken bones before he healed up, and—"

"Brother."

Red blew out an irritated breath, and his teeth scraped as he ground them together. How rare was it these days to witness Red trying feebly to protect him.

His words were short, clipped and sullen, "can't say whether the dried jizz inside his shorts was his or not. don't matter though, pretty sure his dick wasn't in agreement with his head about what happened." He waited, watching critically until Edge gave a curt nod, gesturing impatiently for him to continue. "found some short brown hairs on his clothes, too, and unless rus is sprouting pubes that he hasn’t mentioned, they gotta belong to another monster."

“That narrows things down.”

“a little, yeah. gotta say, i’m glad it wasn’t scales, only a few monsters that could be, but—” The red glare of his brother’s eye lights strayed, widening as they flicked higher and Edge turned to see Rus standing unsteadily in the open doorway of his bedroom, looking down at them. Whatever vulnerability had been leaking through the cracks earlier was shut down, tightened into coldness.

“if you’re done talking about me, can i come down?” Rus asked. The acid in his tone was belied by the way he wrapped his arms around himself, cupped his elbows in his hands as he hunched in.

There was no telling how much he'd overheard. From that closed off irritation, Edge was guessing it was enough.

Well, fuck.

"heya, honey bun," Red said easily. He picked at his teeth with a sharp fingertip, idly inspecting the findings before wiping it on his shorts. "your clothes ain't done yet."

"that's fine, i was gonna burn them, anyway.”

"uh huh," Red let out a deliberate yawn, showing sharp teeth as he stretched with exaggerated enthusiasm, “welp, i could use some sleep. catch ya later.”

"you couldn't catch a cold." Dismissively. Normally a mistake for Red, he was never one to ignore. But his brother only slanted a glance his way and Edge could read that darkly amused look easily. This was his problem to deal with and Red vanished with a pop of teleportation, a rare indulgence so that he wouldn’t have to walk past Rus, who was making his way downstairs with stumbling, furious determination.

Wonderful.

“if you can loan me a pair of boots, i’ll head home,” Rus said shortly. Never mind that he was only wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, that even with boots, it was cold enough right now that simply walking from the house to the machine in the basement might sicken him in the condition he was in. He was already shaking a little with the effort of getting down the stairs.

When Edge Checked him, Rus winced, barely keeping from cringing away from the unwanted prickle of it washing over him.

“Your magic is still very low.” It was tempting to lay a hand on Rus’s shoulder, try to guide him to the sofa to sit down so he could be wrapped up again in blankets. But there was something about the sofa that Rus shied away from it the night before, and the only other option would be to push him to the floor. Neither choice seemed promising. Edge was forced to leave him standing with his toes curling away from the chilly carpet and swaying as though a stiff breeze would send him to his knees.

“yeah, well, thanks for the reminder, but i can take care of myself.” It was incongruous, Rus standing there shivering, drained pale of magic, and ready to demand he be allowed to stagger home through a storm. Even his eye lights flickered, almost sputtering. Rest was good and well but he needed to eat. “appearances might beg to differ, but i actually don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

Edge only raise a brow bone at him, holding his gaze steadily. Rus looked away first, drawing in a quick breath, releasing it. What he attempted next was something like reluctant gratitude, "look, i appreciate everything, i do. but i don't need you two going around behind by back, fucking things up."

Sweat was starting to sheen his skull and Rus swayed on his feet, but he jerked back when Edge reached for him. Edge muttered a foul word beneath his breath and stalked away, hoping that Rus at least had enough sense not to try his luck at leaving barefoot. In his state, he probably wouldn’t be able to get through the door locks. He hadn’t moved by the time Edge returned, only stared in confusion as Edge set a chair from the kitchen table next to him.

“Sit,” Edge commanded. For a moment, he thought Rus wouldn’t. That he’d rather fall to the floor, wallowing in surly defiance. Finally, he all but flung himself into the chair, drawing his knees up to rest his feet on the seat. The quilt was still on the floor by the sofa and Edge snatched it up, shaking it briskly before draping it around Rus’s shoulders.

“I might have agreed you didn’t need a babysitter, except you’re acting childish, so I might well be wrong,” Edge said sharply. He could see the anger simmering in those flickering eye lights and it wasn’t necessarily all for him. Rus was probably angry at the world right now. Best to attempt something a little gentler. “If you feel ready to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“won’t stop me?” Rus laughed and it was bitter. “wow, you’ve really gone all in on this mighty protector bullshit.”

“I won’t stop you,” Edge repeated doggedly. “And you haven’t asked for my opinion, but I think you should stay. You’re obviously still weak and you need more to eat than one cookie.” More to the point, Edge wanted him to stay. It didn’t sit well with him for Rus to go back to Underswap without enough magic to defend himself, especially not knowing who had hurt him. Not yet.

It was somehow the wrong thing to say, as it so often was with Rus. The same kind of slipup that ended in arguments on movie nights, with the others watching with varying degrees of annoyance and sardonic amusement as he and Rus squabbled.

All of Rus’s emotions were crammed into ball of sullen resentment and anger, with nowhere to aim it but at Edge. “i got my ass handed to me, okay, i was kinda fucked up. but i’m not weak!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Edge kept his voice calm. His fault, he reminded himself. Allowing Rus to overhear his need-to-know had broken that fragile trust, barely built before toppling. And there was most likely plenty going on in Rus’s skull that had nothing to do with Edge, leaving him touchy as hell, ready to lash out at anything that pricked. “And needing to be safe to recover doesn’t make you weak. Otherwise every Monster in my Snowdin would qualify.”

“i’m not from your snowdin, and mine’s a little less dust hungry.” The sneer against Underfell was a familiar one. The uncertain tremor beneath it was not.

“No, you’re not,” Edge said, softly, “But I still want you to be safe.”

That contemptuous veneer was not as steady as Rus might prefer, faltering into confusion, fear, before shifting into something different, his sockets hooded as he looked Edge up and down. That gaze was predatory in a way that was strangely discomfiting. Edge knew the hungry gaze of Monsters who succumbed to their LV; Rus’s was too similar by far.

"yeah? that's it, huh, you want me to be safe, and that’s it? safe for you?” His mouth curved into a smirk, the bright flicker of his tongue visible behind his teeth. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m as safe as you’re gonna get."

“What--?” Edge broke off in confusion as Rus slipped to his feet. The languid way he held his body made him seem oddly graceful. Deliberately, Rus let the quilt slither down to the floor, leaving only the soft pajamas clinging to his bones. It was oddly distracting, didn’t give Edge a chance to back away as Rus curved a hand behind skull, holding him as he swooped in to press their mouths together. Pure shock stopped him from pulling away at first. He kept his teeth shut against the sly flick of Rus's tongue, pressed coaxingly, sliding wetly against Edge’s closed mouth.

Edge’s uniform left his spine exposed, deliberately so, no loose material to grab and it was a false vulnerability that had fooled more than one attacker. Only now it left him open to Rus’s clever fingers, his hand curving around his spine to skim knowingly over the bones and cartilage, teasing out flashes of unwanted pleasure and that was enough to wake Edge from his frozen shock.

He tore away, barely resisting the urge to shove Rus violently back, even as he fought the pulse of his own arousal, dizzying and unexpected. His own restraint was vanishingly low, worn by lack of sleep and the frustrated anger at all of this, and he very nearly raised an attack.

“You—” he broke off, too furious to even form words.

But his anger faded as he caught sight of Rus's face, the angry desperation obvious behind his smirk, "what? you wanted to take the lead? c’mon then, let’s head out to the dance floor. or back up to your room, the bed’s more comfortable."

Edge exhaled shakily, clinging to his self-control. "Don't," he said firmly. "Don't act like it's about…that."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t about sex, not without knowing what Rus had been through. But it definitely wasn’t about whatever Rus was trying to offer.

A harsh laugh, Rus’s eye lights raking down Edge’s body. "trying to say you don't want it?"

Not one minute ago, he would have been able to unequivocally say yes. Before he'd distractedly licked his teeth and tasted the unexpected sweetness left behind, before he’d felt Rus pressed tight against him, his hands teasing, his mouth offering silent promises. But Rus was far too good at reading expressions to try for a lie.

Another truth, then.

He set his hands on Rus’s shoulders and that smirk widened. Only to falter as Edge pushed him firmly back into the chair, gathering up the quilt to wrap around him again.

"I didn't help you so I could try to fuck you," Edge said, bluntly. “If that was my plan, there were certainly easier ways to go about it, don’t you think?”

That sullen anger was crumbling away, sockets too wide as Rus looked up at Edge. It made him seem startlingly vulnerable and whatever defenses Rus usually kept up were badly formed, leaving behind only tired confusion. "then why? i don't get it. i don’t understand why you want me to stay. why’re you helping me at all, you don’t even like me.”

And Edge didn’t know how to explain it to him, not if Rus didn’t understand. It wasn’t about liking, nor was it anything to do with his friendship with Blue. He considered it for a moment, taking the time to allow his roused magic to settle.

Slowly, piecing the words together as carefully as he’d solve a puzzle, “If I came to your home and I was hurt, would you turn me away?”

Rus blinked up at him and there, finally, dawning realization. If Rus hadn’t been so exhausted, so very hurt, he likely would have drawn the right conclusion on his own. But all his normal cocky confidence had briefly been beaten out of him and there was no faulting him for not being able to think straight when he could barely stand.

There was still a lingering hint of confusion, but Rus shook his head and whispered, “no. i wouldn’t.”

“Then please allow me to be at least as decent as you are.”

That dry statement earned him a startled laugh. “yeah, i guess i can manage that. okay.”

“Okay,” Edge repeated, softly. “Now, are you going to let me feed you.”

“my decency only goes so far.” Rus drew up a leg, resting his chin on his knee. “if you’re gonna keep insisting on feeding me, i’ll take it.”

“Then come on.”

He didn’t trust Rus’s legs to carry him all the way to the kitchen, and his distrust was proven when Rus only sighed wearily, struggling to his feet with what dwindling strength he had left.

“sorry,” Rus muttered, his head ducked low, eye lights on the floor.

“For what?” Edge countered. “Do you want my help?”

His nod was reluctant, embarrassed.

Edge slid an arm around him, careful to keep his hands from anywhere inappropriate. He still ended up half-carrying Rus to the kitchen, allowed him to sink into one of the other chairs with a relieved sigh. Rus fumbled to gather the quilt close again and Edge let him, allowed him to wrap himself back up in the soft folds.

“Let’s see,” Edge murmured, mostly to himself as he opened the fridge, perusing the contents thoughtfully. It was closer to lunch than breakfast and while Rus needed something to eat, his magic was likely unsettled. Something light and easy to manage would be best. There was a container of broth leftover from making dumplings a few nights before, and a couple eggs left in the door. Edge pulled out all of it, setting it on the counter. He set a pan on the burner and poured in the broth to heat. "Have you spoken with your brother?"

"yep."

Rus didn’t elaborate and Edge sighed, stirring the broth. “I would apologize for what you overheard when I was speaking with Red, but it would be a lie.” He heard Rus inhale sharply, but when he didn’t protest, Edge went on. “I won’t pressure you to speak about what happened. But I will admit I sent my brother looking for information. Evidence gets destroyed quickly in a place with weather as unstable as Snowdin, and if it was necessary, I didn’t want it to get lost.”

“that’s not a bad line of bullshit, you should stick with that one,” Rus said. “’cause, see, you don’t need evidence.” From the corner of his eye, Edge saw him shiver, a bare whisper as he said, “i already told you, they didn’t rape me.”

Edge cracked an egg into the hot broth, stirring it so it cooked in long threads. “Do you think because you weren’t raped, that what happened was in any way acceptable and shouldn’t be punished?”

But whatever openness had briefly shown itself closed off tight and Rus only muttered, “maybe i don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then we won’t,’ Edge agreed mildly. He let Rus retreat into silence, concentrating on the soup. He ladled out a small bowlful, enough to test Rus’s tolerance for food without making him worry about wasting it. Set it in front of him and watched as Rus fumbled for the spoon.

He ate it in small, steamy bites, and when it was finished, he gave Edge a small smile, “please sir, can i have some more?”

Edge let a smile of his own show, calling back as he took the bowl to the stove, “Luckily for you, I’m kinder than any Dickens story.”

“you are.” Quietly, from behind him.

He kept his expression placid, encouraging Rus to keep eating, and hiding the cold thoughts growing at the back of his mind. Red was the evidence seeker, but this time Edge was the one who found useful information, all packaged into a single word.

They.

The proximity alarms cut off that line of thought and Edge frowned, pulling out his phone to check the cameras. With the storm rising, there weren’t any Monsters he could think of that would try to either visit or attack right now. He squinted as the staticky picture came clear, sockets going wide as it showed him Blue staggering through the harsh winds, headed for the front door.

“I thought you said you talked to your brother?” Edge snapped. He shoved the phone towards Rus, showing him his brother’s determined approach.

But Rus seemed as surprised as he was, the spoon falling from his hand. He looked stricken, a faint flush of agitated magic rising in his cheek bones. “i did. i never told him i was here, just that i’d be back soon.”

Edge exhaled slowly and nodded. “Stay here.”

He left Rus in the kitchen, door carefully closed as he made his way to the front door to start on the locks. With any luck, he could deal with this quickly and send Blue back to Underswap, but he had his doubts.

Luck was in short supply in all the ‘verses lately, it seemed.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Four