#I’ll fix this and put it on AO3 properly tomorrow I think

[homerforsure]

For the prompt meme: 30 for angst and 36 for fluff? ☺️

Oh. Performing CPR you say? Well, why not?

(For the record I also recently thought of something for the fluffy one too so I’ll get to that soon)

03:17

Long after the ER team vanishes through the doors with Buck, Eddie is still counting. One, two, three, four. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Five, Six, Seven. One hundred beats per minute. Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven. No time for breaths; just keep the heart pumping. Twelve, Thirteen. The count continues in his head without ceasing as though Eddie is still keeping Buck alive, still beating his heart for him, with nothing but his unbroken focus. He wraps an arm around Chimney’s shoulders and the count goes on. Fourteen. Bobby pulls Eddie into his side. Fifteen. Eddie can’t lose the count. He knows, “A ten second break to breathe can halt the momentum and cost you everything so don’t breathe.” Don’t break.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

His own breaths start to match the fevered pace of his count and a grey, creeping fog moves into the emergency room. For half a second, Eddie considers falling into it, letting it swallow him whole so he can dive into that shadow world and drag Buck back out. Then Bobby squeezes him tight and Hen’s breath hitches and Chimney shudders beside him. Eddie snaps back to full, terrible consciousness, but he doesn’t stop counting.

“I got- I gotta call Maddie,” Chimney says. He reaches a trembling hand up to wipe the rain off his face. “I got- fuck.”

“No,” Bobby answers. “We’ll follow protocol.”

Pulling out of Eddie’s grasp, Chimney shakes his head, “No. No way. I’m not letting some stranger-”

“Chim-”

“Show up at my house and tell Maddie that her brother’s-! She needs to hear it from someone she knows.”

Bobby takes a step toward him, releasing Hen and Eddie, who drift toward each other automatically. Holding up his hands and straining to keep his voice level and calm, he says, “Chim, if you call her, she’ll get in the car. You don’t want that.”

“Then, I’ll go get her. Give me the keys.”

Read on AO3

The keys are still in the ignition of the ambulance that is still running and still blocking the emergency entrance. The front doors might still be hanging open for all Eddie remembers of the past few minutes.

“You’re not driving either. None of you are,” Bobby says, glancing briefly at Eddie as if he can sense that he’s about to volunteer. The count in his head has slowed with his breaths, but Eddie needs to do something. There has to be something. Something more. “We’ll find the hospital liaison. They’ll send a notification officer.”

“She doesn’t need a notification officer; she needs me!”

Other visitors and staff look up as Chimney’s voice rises above the noise of the emergency room. Hen closes her eyes and lets quiet tears slide down her cheeks. Bobby looks a hundred years old in the flickering fluorescent light, but he doesn’t flinch. He steps forward and wraps Chimney tight in his arms.

“We’ll send a notification officer,” Eddie hears him say. “They can drive her here. They’ll make sure she’s safe. They’ll make sure your daughter is safe. And you’ll be right here to take care of both of them.”

Slowly Chimney’s arms come around Bobby and cling tight to his coat. The sound of his sob has Eddie looking up to the ceiling, blinking hard and barely holding back his own pitiful lamentation.

“I sent him up the ladder, Cap. I broke his damn ribs.”

“You kept him alive, Chim. You gave him a chance.”

One, Two, Three. The count stutters and starts over, but Eddie catches it again and keeps going. Ignores the way that Bobby doesn’t say “You saved him.” Ignores the way it isn’t true. Not really. Not yet. His fingers–are they shaking?--his fingers are never going to forget Buck’s damp and freezing skin beneath them. That unnatural stillness. The absence of that strong and steady pulse that’s been keeping Eddie on rhythm for years now. Without it he’s stumbling, spiraling, falling out of time. Nine, Ten, Eleven.

“Okay. Let’s call them then,” Chimney says, pushing himself away from Bobby with a stuttering exhale.

He strides off towards the desk and Bobby looks back at Eddie and Hen before he catches up to lead. Eddie almost doesn’t notice the way Bobby’s eyes slide from his face and linger meaningfully on Hen’s until she takes a step toward Eddie and rests her hand on his arm.

“We’ll be here,” she says.

Eddie covers her hand with his and each pat he gives it is another pulse he counts in his head. They lean together, both of them clinging so tightly to the shreds of their own hope that they don’t have any left to offer the other, but scraping together enough strength between the two of them to keep from falling down.

Twenty-eight, Twenty-nine, Thirty. Breathe for two. Breathe. For two.

Breathe for me, Buck, Eddie prays. He skips God and directs his plea to the one person who always answers.

One. Two.

Two nurses in blue scrubs round the corner, pushing a gurney towards them. Eddie moves out of their way before he realizes it’s their gurney and that the nurses are returning it to them. The top sheet is gone and the mattress is soaked from the rain, water still dripping from the rails down to the floor.

“One-eighteen?”

“Yeah,” Hen clears her throat on the word. “That’s us.”

“Here you go.”

They turn as soon as Hen’s hand touches the gurney; their duty fulfilled; the chain of custody reaching its final link.

“Wait,” Eddie says, his voice thick and rough. “Is…”

He swallows, unable to even think his way to the end of the question. The only word on his tongue is Buck. He can’t even figure out how to form another.

Their faces bend in matching expressions of pity and one of them shakes her head as she says, “We don’t know anything. I’m sorry. I’m sure they’ll send someone as soon as they can.”

“Thank you,” Hen says.

Dismissed, they quickly scoot away again before Eddie can gather any more of his wild and overflowing fear into a coherent question. The count starts over and he thinks that he would know- He thinks he’d be able to feel it if- But Eddie doesn’t know how it could possibly feel any more than this. He’s empty. Bereft. His heart is somewhere deep inside this hospital and he can’t be sure that it’s still beating.

Hen touches his arm again and says, “We should get this out of the way. They’ll need us to move the ambulance.”

Right. Because their emergency isn’t the only one happening tonight.

Eddie nods and they walk together, pushing the gurney toward the open back of the ambulance. The driver’s side door is closed, but the passenger side is open and Hen walks over to close it while Eddie lifts the AED off the mattress. It’s easy. Rote. Twelve. Thirteen. The single-use cardiac pads are already gone along with their wiring. He just needs to put the device back in position and make sure the new package of pads is ready for next time.

As he tilts the box, it lights up and a mechanical voice says, “Check electrode pads. Plug in cable.” In their haste to care for Buck no one bothered to turn off the AED.

He’s just about to power it down when the screen changes. A sinus rhythm spikes in sharp green lines and the text below urges, “CHECK RESPONSIVENESS.” Above are numbers in easy to read green:

Shocks: 01 03:17

Three minutes and seventeen seconds. The timer must have stopped after the shock, the medical team pulling the history from the device as they rushed Buck down the hall. Three minutes and seventeen seconds from Buck landing on the gurney and Eddie feeling the flutter of his pulse under his hands. He doesn’t know how much time passed before that. How much the wind and the rain and thirty pounds of gear slowed him down on his frantic climb. He’ll probably never know.

He’s still staring at that jagged green line that’s barely life when Hen comes back around the truck and he can’t bring himself to stop once she joins him.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks and Eddie barks out a laugh.

What’s wrong with it is that it was just attached to Buck. That it’s showing, now, exactly how close he came. How close he is to-

Tilting it toward her he says, “Three minutes, seventeen seconds.”

A long breath leaves Hen’s lungs, leaving her deflated. “Oh,” she says.

“Three minutes. Seventeen seconds. He was-”

“I know.”

“Three minutes.”

Gently, Hen takes the AED from Eddie’s hand and sets it back down on the gurney. Then she wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight. “I know,” she says. “I know.”

The rock there at the edge of the glass doors, while rain continues to fall beyond them and thunder rumbles in the distance. Eddie’s pulse pounds in his ears. And he keeps count.

[rosiehunterwolf]

Never Put Off Until Tomorrow

Prompts: Chores and Video Games

Word Count: 4,850

Characters: The squad + Pixal

Timeline: between seasons 11 and 12

Trigger Warnings: None

Summary: …what can be done today, yada, yada, yada, we all know the saying. So do the ninja- when Master Wu is drilling it into their heads every minute of every day, it’s kind of hard to forget.

Naturally, it only takes them a week (and the biggest new video game in Ninjago) to do so.

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Tumblr work under the cut

“Get that gun out of his hand! Without it, he’ll be defenseless and we can take him down easily!” “I’m trying, Jay!” Lloyd said through gritted teeth. “One wrong move and he’ll get me with that thing!”

“Use your powers!” Jay raised his sword and dove at the enemy, forcing him to turn and face him. As their swords clashed with a loud clang of metal, Jay quickly pulled back as Lloyd shot a blast of power at the attacker, who promptly collapsed to the ground.

“Alright! Way to go, green ma- look out!”

Lloyd shrieked as someone suddenly jumped on him from behind, skewering a sword through his skull. The green ninja fell to the ground and vanished in a puff of smoke.

The ninja blinked at the scene before them, speechless.

Jay suddenly let out a whoop, leaning over to high-five Kai. “Way to go, bro! You’re so good at this game!” “He came out of nowhere,” Lloyd huffed, tossing his control to the ground. “He didn’t even give me a chance to fight back.”

Kai reclined, putting his hands behind his head. “Work smarter, not harder, green machine.”

Lloyd scowled, and Nya shot him a sympathetic glance. “Hey, Lloyd, you lasted a whole ten minutes longer than last time! You’ve drastically improved.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Kai winked. “Even Jay couldn’t beat me, I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Cole shook his head. “Dude, you’re unchecked! We’ve only had this game for a week and already, you’re insane. Let’s just say I’m very glad you’re on our team.”

“I’ll say,” Zane agreed. “The Critical Conquest Gaming Tournament is going to have some of the best gamers in Ninjago. You’re good, Kai- we all are- but we all need to be at the top of our game if we want a chance at winning.”

“We got this, guys,” Nya assured. “We’ve fought off serpentine, ghosts, the Overlord, Oni- winning a city-wide video game tournament should be a piece of cake.”

“Speaking of cake-”

“No cake,” Jay snapped at Cole. “Not until we’ve won this thing. I need you to practice.”

“Dude, chill, I’ve been practicing!”

“Then can you show me your double twist dash-melee maneuver?”

Cole blinked at him. “My what?”

“That’s what I thought. Here, let me show you. We’ll try until you’ve got it down.”

“Who put you in charge?”

“You did. Literally. You guys chose me to be the team captain for the competition.”

“Whatever.”

“Lloyd, come here, so he has someone to practice on.”

“Why me?” “Because you need to work on your stealth. Kai got that jump on you surprisingly easily. You’re a good fighter, Lloyd, but fighting doesn’t matter if your enemy kills you before you have the chance. Practice your stealth and dodging on Cole.”

“Ready to get your butt kicked, bud?” Cole reached his hands out, cracking his knuckles before picking up the controller.

“Ha! You wish. The only one who will be getting their butt kicked is-”

The sharp rapping of something against the floor interrupted him, and they turned to see Master Wu standing behind them, his gaze disapproving as he clutched his staff firmly in hand.

“Students, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Uhh, practicing for the Critical Conquest tournament?” Nya said. “I thought that was pretty obvious!”

Wu glared at her. “I know what you’re doing. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut all this short. The six of you have many chores to do.”

“Chores?” they cried in unison.

“The past week since you bought that game, you have done nothing but sit around on that couch and play it. In all that time, your chores have piled up. Now, I’m cutting you off. They need to be done, now.”

“But Master!” Jay pleaded. “The tournament starts in only a few hours!”

Master Wu smirked. “Well, I guess you better be fast, then.”

---

The ninja stared down at the alarmingly long list Master Wu had given them, no one speaking a word for nearly a solid minute.

“Why,” Kai groaned, “did we ever put all of these off?”

“Why didn’t Master Wu just let us wait one more day to do the chores?” Jay complained. “The tournament would be all over then!”

“Well, he didn’t,” Cole said. “So there’s no use in complaining. We might as well get started.”

“Alright, guys, if we’re going to get through all of this before the tournament starts, we’re gonna have to divide and conquer,” Nya said. “Let’s see. Zane, Lloyd, you guys take the kitchen. Jay, Cole, you can check the vehicles to make sure they’re operating properly- wait, scratch that, Cole doesn’t know shit about mechanics. Besides, putting you two alone together is never a good idea.”

“Hey!”

“Zane, you go with Jay on the machines. Cole, you’re with Lloyd. Kai and I will work outside on raking and fixing the training course.”

“Hey, no fair, you just gave yourself the easiest job!” Cole grumbled.

“I’ll inform you that raking leaves is very mundane!”

“Yeah!” Kai snapped. “Especially when it’s cold out like this. I’m gonna freeze my fingers off!”

“You’re the fire ninja, you’ll figure something out,” Nya snapped. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Hey, Cole? You think this is so easy? We can trade places! You wanna trade places?��

“Actually, I’ve decided to be nice and let you take this one.”

Kai glared at him. “You’re only saying that because you know I hate it!” Cole leaned back against the table, smirking. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Kai, we’re going.” Nya grabbed his hand and yanked him out the door.

“I guess we better get working,” Cole sighed. “Jay, Zane, you guys need a copy of your tasks?” Zane shook his head. “I’ve got the list committed to memory. And there’s a lot to do, so we better go.”

As they left the room, Cole turned to Lloyd. “Put a check mark or something by the things the others are doing, so we can see what’s left for us.”

Lloyd made little marks next to the tasks, his pencil slowing as it reached the end. His frown deepened. “I swear, this list is getting longer. Some of these are just ridiculous! Polish the counters? Clean out the oven? Dust the tops of the cabinets? Who does these things?”

“Normal people, Lloyd. It’s not my fault that we’re so busy saving the city that you’ve never done anything more than the most basic chores in your life.”

“I’ve done chores!” “Darkley’s doesn’t count, bud. I bet the only thing you did there was clean spiders out of your bed.”

“They were fire ants,” Lloyd grumbled.

Cole turned on him with wide eyes. “What?”

Lloyd stiffened, suddenly seeming to realize what he had just said. “Uh… I mean… don’t tell Kai, okay?”

Cole stared at him for a moment, before sighing. “I’ll let it go, this once. But only because you’ve had a lot worse things than fire ants since then. Those kids are jerks, though.”

“I know.”

“... They really did that?”

“Yes, Cole! Do I need to show the scars to prove it?”

“No! I was just- you know what, forget I even said anything. Let’s get to work. First up, doing the dishes.” They turned towards the sink, where dozens of dirty plates and cups had accumulated.

“Seriously? Doesn’t anyone ever clean off their dishes after eating?”

Cole shot him a look. “Name one time you did that.”

“Okay, so never, but we’re ninja, not dishwashers! What do you expect?”

“Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today, Lloyd.”

Lloyd groaned. “I can’t believe I’m missing Critical Conquest for this.”

---

“Jay! You’re supposed to be repairing the sentry cannons on the Land Bounty!” “Chill out, Zane, I’ll get to it in a minute-”

Zane suddenly snatched the remote control out of his hand. “Jay! We’re never going to finish in time for the tournament if you don’t focus! Stop playing with toys!” “It’s not a toy!” He gestured towards the small remote-controlled robot. “This thing is going to be a major distraction! It could make it or break it for us in battle!”

Zane eyed the robot skeptically. “This. Distract our enemies?”

“Well, I was going to make it into a smoke bomb, but someone kept pestering me!” “Look, Jay, this isn’t the time to work on your inventions. You can do that later. Right now, you need to fix the sentries.”

“I already looked at the sentries,” he whined. “They were completely fried in our last adventure. I have to rewire the whole thing.”

Zane blinked at him. “Isn’t… that kind of your job?”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard work! I don’t want to do it! I’ll take any other chore on your list.”

“Well, someone needs to do it, and you’re the only one who knows how.”

“Not true! Why don’t you ask Pixal?”

He gestured towards the nindriod, who was tinkering with what appeared to be a small metal box.

“Pixal,” he called, walking over to her, “do you know how to rewire the sentries?” “Yes, but I know for a fact that Jay does, too. I’m not doing it for you.”

“Aww, come on, Pix,” Jay groaned. “Why don’t you have to do anything while the rest of us are all working our butts off?”

She glanced wryly at Jay’s little robot, who was waving cheerfully at her. “I wouldn’t exactly call it that. But I’m not helping because I already did all my chores while the rest of you were playing video games.”

Jay went pink in the face, and even Zane felt himself avoiding Pixal’s gaze.

“Critical Conquest is very important,” Jay muttered.

“More important than making sure all our weapons are operational? Or restocking the medbay?”

“We can do those things any time! The competition is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“Actually, there is another one next month-”

“Shut up, Zane. With our luck, we’ll probably be fighting evil nindroids or will be locked inside a different realm by that point, anyway.”

“I’m not helping you,” Pixal sniffed. “So I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Not taking Pixal’s… not-so-subtle hints, Jay leaned in towards her. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

Pixal eyed him warily. “... It’s a jetpack. I wanted to make something more compact in case I was in a situation where I couldn’t use the Samurai X suit.”

“That’s cool! Although, it might work better if you recalibrated the engines to-”

“Jay,” Pixal said sharply. “I know what I’m doing. Please go work on your chores.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “No one ever lets me have any fun.”

Zane shook his head, wandering over to the Earth Driller where he was working on replacing the paneling that had been damaged in the Oni incident.

He couldn’t have been doing so for more than fifteen minutes when the sound of a small explosion interrupted him.

Zane jerked to his feet, dashing over to where the sound had come from.

Jay had jumped back from Pixal’s jetpack, which was now black and smoking.

Of course it was.

“What happened?”

Jay scratched his head nervously. “Well, you see… I really didn’t want to work on those sentries, so when I noticed Pixal stepping out of the room for a moment…”

Zane sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you alright?”

Jay grinned. “Right as rain. Not even a scar like last time!”

“Okay, that’s good, now I feel less bad for saying this- what were you thinking?”

“I couldn’t help myself, Zane! She calibrated it all wrong!”

“Well, evidently, you were the one who did it wrong, seeing as it exploded within five minutes of you getting your hands on it.”

Jay jumped nearly a foot in the air. “Pixal! You’re back! Ah… um, I’m really sorry about your jetpack, I was only trying to…”

Pixal marched forward, snatching it off the floor. “It doesn’t matter, it’s done now.”

“I can fix it-”

“You’ve done quite enough,” Pixal snapped. “Why don’t you just go finish your chores now?”

“But-”

Pixal held up the burnt jetpack, shaking it lightly. “You owe me.”

“Fine,” Jay groaned. “I’ll rewire the stupid sentries.”

---

“If I have to rake one more pile of leaves, something is going to end up on fire.”

“Well, luckily for you, that was the last of them.” Nya set down her rake, rubbing her hands together. “Now we just have to dispose of the leaf bags.”

She and Kai glanced over towards the towering pile of leaf bags, and Kai groaned.

“It’s going to take forever to throw these all away!”

“Kai, the dumpster is just on the other side of the Monastery wall!”

“Yeah, but we can only carry a few bags at a time, and we’re going to have to make so many trips!”

“Well, unless you’ve got a better idea, we don’t have a choice.”

Kai paused, his eyes lighting up. “Wait-”

“No, Kai, we are not burning the leaves.”

“I wasn’t going to say that! Although… it’s not a half-bad idea…”

“Kai!” “Okay, okay, no burning! What I was going to say was, why don’t we just toss the bags over the wall and into the dumpster?”

Nya frowned. “We’d miss half of them and then have to go over there anyway and pick them all up.”

“No, we could do it like in Critical Conquest! Remember? The ground-bash move? This is just like that!”

“Kai, that’s just a video game. This is real life!” “Yeah, but wouldn’t it still work?”

Nya frowned, stepping forward and eyeing up the roof of the Monastery. “I suppose if we got the right angle… we’d have to make sure an ample amount of newtons were applied with each hit to reach the correct velocity… and of course we’d have to take into consideration factors like density and wind acceleration per second and its tendency to carry-”

“Okay, okay, enough with your science-y nerd stuff!”

“It’s just basic physics, Kai. I mean, there are a lot of external factors to consider that wouldn’t be present in a lab setting, although I still think it would be quite simple-”

“Would it work or not?” Kai interrupted. “Yes or no, I want a one-word answer.”

“Yes. We just need to get the proper positioning-”

“Can I be the one bashing the bags?”

Nya sighed. “Only if you do exactly as I tell you-”

“Whoooooo!” Kai cried, running off to grab the rake as he swung it around fiercely. “Who’s ready to bash some leaf bags?”

“Kai! I said to do exactly as I say-”

---

Despite Nya’s initial trepidations, the process did not end up being a total disaster, and they actually ended up getting the chore done decently quickly. Now all they had left to do was to test and recalibrate the training course.

Nya glanced down at her watch. Only an hour and a half until the tournament started. Her chances of getting extra practice on those tricky combos were looking slimmer by the second. Hopefully, Kai’s mastery of the game, Jay’s high skill levels, and Cole’s advanced items and power-ups would be enough to help them beat-

“Nya!” Kai shrieked. “I said, turn it off!”

Nya snapped out of her thoughts, glancing up at her brother, who had been knocked to the ground by a whirring training dummy. “Oh, shit!” She spun towards the controls and shut them down, jogging over to Kai. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so, I just-” Kai reached for her extended hand, pulling back with a sharp cry as they made contact.

“What?” “My hand,” he grimaced. “It hurts like hell.”

---

“You can’t throw out the Eggo Waffles!” Lloyd insisted, grabbing at the box in Cole’s hands

“Lloyd, they expired three days ago.”

“So what, they’re still edible.”

“They’re going.” Cole gave the box a strong tug, jerking it out of Lloyd’s hands and dropping it in the garbage. Lloyd huffed, crossing his arms.

“Kai would’ve let me keep them.”

“No, he wouldn’t have, because he doesn’t want you to get food poisoning.”

Lloyd paused for a moment, before amending, “Jay would’ve let me keep them.”

Cole sighed. “Yeah, and then you guys would’ve eaten them, and we would’ve ended up with two sick ninja.”

“I wouldn’t get sick! I have these super cool powers that protect me-”

“We don’t have any proof of that. We still don’t know exactly what your powers do.”

“Which means we can’t rule that out yet!”

Cole rubbed his head. “Out of all the people I could’ve gotten stuck cleaning out the freezer with… it had to be you. The one who gets emotionally attached to frozen waffles.”

“I am not emotionally attached-”

“Are you kidding me? He can’t play with this on! This thing is stiff, it seriously restricts his movement!” “It’s not a question, Jay, he needs to keep it on!”

“Is it actually that bad, though? Couldn’t he skip it for one game?”

“Not unless you want it to get worse!” Cole and Lloyd exchanged a glance and stepped out into the hallway, where the other four ninja were gathered.

“What’s going on?”

Zane opened his mouth to speak. “There was-”

“Kai!” Lloyd interrupted suddenly, darting over to him. “What happened to your hand?”

Cole blinked, realizing for the first time that Kai had a swathe of bandages wrapped around his hand.

Kai yelped in pain as Lloyd touched it, and the green ninja recoiled, his eyes widening in guilt. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!”

Nya rolled her eyes. “Don’t apologize, Lloyd, he’s fine. He’s just being a big baby about all of this.”

“Am not. It hurts!”

Zane stifled a sigh. “Kai, it is only a bad pulled muscle. Apart from being painful and needing plenty of rest, it’s nothing serious.”

“Well, you don’t know what it feels like,” Kai snapped. “It’s a lot worse than ‘nothing serious.’”

“I scanned you. I am quite certain my diagnosis is correct.”

Nya snickered, and Kai shot her a look. “Shut up, you. You’re the one who did this to me.”

“You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention!” “Yeah, well, you’re the one who was supposed to be-”

“Guys!” Jay cried. “Can’t you see we have more pressing matters at hand? Severe injury or not, Kai can’t play Critical Conquest like this. And he’s our best player!”

“Alright,” Lloyd said. “So we don’t have our best player anymore. That’s bad. But Jay’s still a beast! And Cole, and Nya, and everyone except me, basically-”

“He could be the worst player in all of existence and it still wouldn’t matter,” Cole pointed out. “We need six players to compete or they will disqualify us.”

“But if Kai can’t play, we have no one else! There are no backups!” Nya huffed, turning on Jay. “You’re our team captain! Why didn’t you prepare any backups?”

“Because we know no one else! We live in an isolated monastery at the top of the tallest mountain for miles, what did you expect? Besides, I wasn’t anticipating this to happen!” Zane frowned. “Well, if Kai can’t play, and we have no backup, then our only choice is to drop out-”

“Wait!” Jay cried suddenly. “I think I might have an idea of someone.”

---

“Please please please please-”

Pixal raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you really think begging is going to change my mind?”

“Please, Pixal, we need a sixth player, and you’re the only person I can think of!”

“Why would I help you after you blew up my jetpack?” Kai gaped at him. “You what?”

Jay fought back the heat spreading across his face. “That’s not important right now! Pixal, I promise I’ll fix it, just please compete with us!”

Pixal frowned at him, which wasn’t the most reassuring answer.

“C’mon Pix- I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t know, Jay-”

“We’ll do all your chores for the next month.”

“What?” “We will?”

“Jay, what the heck! We never agreed to that!”

Pixal smiled at him. “I would’ve accepted it if you offered a week, but that’s very generous of you.”

The others shot him smoldering glares, and Jay groaned. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have time for this.” Glancing down at his phone, he sucked in his breath. “We’ve only got an hour until the tournament! Zane, can you teach Pixal how to play?”

Zane blinked at him. “In an hour?”

“Just cover the basics. We don’t have time for perfection. Just teach her as much as you can before the tournament starts.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as they were out of the room, Jay wheeled around, moaning. “We are so hooped! She doesn’t know how to play! Kai, how could you be careless enough to injure yourself?”

“Oh, sure, blame the victim!” Kai snapped. “Would it kill you to show a little sympathy to your injured teammate?”

“You pulled a muscle, you baby!” Nya groaned. “Pixal’s a fast learner, hopefully, she’ll get the hang of it.”

“Fast learner or not, nothing can beat hours of experience,” Lloyd said. “Let’s just hope the other contestants aren’t as good.”

---

“These dudes are insane!”

Jay continued to scroll through the queued-up players, examining their stats, his jaw dropping. “How much have these people been grinding?”

“So much for an easy win,” Lloyd grumbled.

Zane and Pixal walked into the room, holding their controllers. “I think I’ve done everything I can with Pixal. The competition starts in five minutes, I suggest we get ready.”

“Alright.” Jay turned towards Pixal as Zane worked on setting up the game. “We’re going to need your help, but since you don’t have experience, I think the best move is to have you stay behind us and play defense.”

Pixal smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

“Guys, we have to queue up!” “Are the headsets working?”

“They’re ready, what about the controllers? All charged?”

“We really shouldn’t be checking these kinds of things literally three minutes before the tournament, but yes, they are.”

“Hurry, guys! It’s about to start!”

Zane blinked at the screen. “Jay… you named our team the Fast Chickens?”

“It’s a good name!” The others groaned, and Jay glared at them. “We’ll see who’s complaining when we win this thing!”

Jay fidgeted through most of the opening speeches from the hosts of the competition as they went over rules and procedures. And, after what simultaneously felt like both a million years later and only the blink of an eye, the game was finally starting. They got lucky with their spawn point, and after a few minutes, were able to collect some good resources and get a good start. Cole, Zane, and Nya were able to take down some of the weaker groups before they collected supplies while Jay and the others continued collecting and building up defenses.

Checking the score count, he could see there were already twenty teams down in various parts of the map, and he knew his team had been responsible for felling three of them. Jay couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It seemed like nothing could be going better.

That is, until they suffered a major blow on the southwestern flank of their territory against a high-level team- the CrownViolets, they called themselves. (Which was nowhere near as cool sounding as the Fast Chickens, Jay totally wasn’t insecure about that at all.) After a fierce fight that ended up costing them several lives- and robbing Zane of his last, taking him out of the game- they realized they couldn’t win this fight and backed down, sacrificing a sizeable chunk of their turf.

While still monitoring that boundary, they decided to primarily focus on expanding in the other direction. Their tactic seemed to be working well, and although the CrownViolets kept on encroaching on them from the boundary, the other teams weren’t backing down, and although none managed to defeat the rival team, they were certainly taking their tolls on them. Jay hoped that the other teams would eventually take the Violets out for them, although he had to admit that would be extremely lucky.

They were getting down to the last few teams in the tournament. When the top ten were remaining, special, more deadly weapons were hidden around, and with them, teams began to fight back harder. The Fast Chickens held their own, but by the time they were down to two teams remaining- them and the CrownViolets- both Jay and Lloyd had been killed and eliminated. Only Cole, Nya, and Pixal remained. The CrownViolets still had four players left, but they were weak. If the ninja were strategic enough, they could still win this.

But Pixal was a major hindrance. She had been plenty good at holding back and defending them, but now, with so few left, she was going to have to start playing a more active role. If only Kai had still been there.

“Alright, they’re somewhere around here.” Nya’s character pulled up her radar. “There seems to be two of them right up ahead-”

“Alright, Pixal.” Jay leaned over her shoulder, coaching her. “You’re going to have to start getting offensive. Nya says there’s only two, so there shouldn’t be a problem, but there could be an ambush, or these two could have higher health. We don’t want to take any chances. While Nya and Cole rush them, you should stay back and shoot at them with your launchers. Your character has good accuracy scores.”

There was a flash of purple, and muffled shouting, and Nya froze. “There they are! Let’s get them, guys!”

The three plunged into the fight, and although it was a tough battle, their opponents were relatively low on health, and they ended up eliminating the two CrownViolets- unfortunately, with the loss of Nya before doing so.

“It’s just the two of us left, Pixal,” Cole said, “but there’s also only two of them, as well. We can do this. Just stick close to me. They’re around here somewhere.”

“And that somewhere is here!” Pixal shrieked suddenly, whirling around.

Cole’s eyes widened. “One of their teammates must’ve sent out a distress signal before they died!” He grappled for his weapon, but in his haste, his grip was sloppy.

Pixal, however, barely hesitated, diving at their opponent and attacking in a flurry of blows. Jay’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as she performed a complex combo it had taken him a full day to learn.

Zane smiled at all their gaping mouths. “I told you to have faith in her.”

Cole was evidently shocked too, and within a few moments, he was dead- although not before delivering a nearly fatal blow to his opponent. Pixal quickly finished him off before turning to face the last remaining player.

“Be careful, Pix,” Jay warned. “She still has pretty high health. Don’t get cocky, or take dumb risks.”

“Dumb risks are your thing,” Pixal corrected, not even batting an eye as she darted past her opponent, slashing her with her sword.

The CrownViolet wasn’t giving up, though. She pushed back, throwing down a smoke bomb and suddenly pushing Pixal down from behind. Pixal rolled out of the way, missing her sword by inches, and sprung up, taking the moment of surprise to her advantage to knock her opponent down. As the rival started crawling away, Pixal’s character took a potion, powering up a special move. The opponent knocked her down as she was waiting to power up, but before she could get a good attack in, Pixal was ready and was blasting her a beam of light.

The girl’s avatar fell to the ground, dead.

There was a beat of silence, then their living room erupted in cheers.

“Pixal! You did it! You won the game for us!”

“I can’t believe it! We actually won! Without Kai!”

“Hey,” Kai yelped. “That didn’t sound like it was meant to be a compliment.”

“What do you mean,” Lloyd said. “That was totally a super nice thing I just said about you.”

Kai narrowed his eyes. “A bit backhanded, don’t you think?”

“Guys, none of that is important!” Cole cried. “We won! Out of all the gamers in the city! We actually won!”

“But I have to know,” Jay insisted. “How did you get so good at the game?”

Pixal shrugged. “I guess you pick up a thing or two watching your team play a game obsessively for the past week.”

Jay blinked. “You’ve been watching us?”

She scowled. “I’ve been doing the chores in here, lightning brain! Repairs, laundry, picking up after you- you’ve just been too obsessed by your game to even notice me!”

“Oh, really? Uh, that’s my bad…”

“Speaking of which, you promised to do my chores, and I’m looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening off.”

“Did I?” Jay laughed nervously. “Hey, did I ever mention that the tournament winners get a cash prize-”

Pixal handed him a mop. “Nice try. Although I still expect my fair share of the earnings by the end of the week. Good luck.” The ninja just gazed at her in horror, and she laughed.

“You’re going to need it.”

[p-artsypants]

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (4)

You’ve Got Me VooDoo’d

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

--

“Have either of you talked to Adrien lately?” 

Nino scoffed from his place on the couch. “You mean Mr. Roboto? Yeah, he’s been a blast. What did you do, Marinette?” 

“Me?! I didn’t do anything!” 

“Well he wasn’t this weird until your failed date night.” 

“I know that! And I also know that I did nothing wrong!” She scolded. 

“Mari’s right,” said Alya. “Sunshine’s transformation is probably a side effect of his dear old dad.” 

“What did Gabriel do?” Asked Marinette. 

“Don’t you remember? He’s a great designer, and apparently a cool boss, but he’s a super shitty dad.” 

“Yeah. But ever since Adrien turned 18, he’s mellowed out. Somewhat.” 

“So? He probably cranked it back up. When was the last time you saw Adrien outside of the mansion?” 

Marinette blinked. “God, like two weeks ago, before ‘my failed date night’.” 

“Exactly. If you ask me, Sunshine is depressed. Or forbidden from showing emotion.” 

Marinette clutched at her chest, the very notion sending a throb to her heart. 

“I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. I’ll sneak up on him, so Nathalie doesn’t know. Maybe without her talking to him beforehand, he’ll feel more relaxed.” 

“That’s a good plan! And if he has a camera in his room?” 

“Um…I’ll write a note! Not an email, in case his dad is monitoring it, but an actual, physical note.” It was as good enough of a plan as it could be, though she had neglected to mention to them the tiny detail of Adrien’s document.

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste’ it said. 

Why would he be reading such a thing? Did he have amnesia and Gabriel was trying to keep it quiet? Extremely early onset Alzheimer’s? That’s the only thing that made sense.

Still, Marinette opted to not mention this. It was her clue to the mystery. Maybe later. 

Just like some magic potion

You fill me with emotion

You control my very soul

You've Got Me Voodoo'd

“You could at least respond with ‘k’.” 

The reply was immediate. “K.”

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?” 

“K.” 

“Did I do something?” 

“K” 

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” 

“K”

“You’re really pissing me off, Agreste.” 

“K” 

Marinette put her phone down for her own health. After a morning in the office, and not getting a response from Adrien, she was beyond frustrated. 

If he had a problem with her, fine, but they had work to do! He still had a job at the company, outside of being a model, and some of her work relied on him. 

It was coming in, slowly, poorly, and mostly wrong. Besides modeling, he was an assistant in sizing, making sure that their clothes were made to be close to the market standard, and flattering for as many possible body types. They did do custom orders, of course, but for the average consumer, it was important that they ordered what they wanted, and received what they expected. 

But Adrien’s measurements were wildly wrong. Women’s extra large shirts didn’t gain inches in the bust, waist, and arms respectively, but the whole outfit scaled evenly. 

Meaning that if an average small was 16 inches long, instead of gaining one or two inches, it reached down to the knees. Shoulder seams fell halfway down the bicep, and sleeves continued a few inches over their hands. 

The models in testing looked like children wearing their parents' clothes. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I have to ask you about this collection and the…interesting sizing you’ve decided to take.” One of the sales reps asked, right outside her office. 

“It’s wrong,” Marinette clarified. “It should have been caught before prototypes were made, but there’s been a hiccup in the production.” She stood, and put on her purse. There was no way to solve this problem without talking to Adrien. And goddamnit, she was going to make him talk! 

“See to it that it’s corrected immediately. With Gabriel’s nearly complete absence, this collection is way behind. Aubrey Bourgeois already has her fall collection out!” 

“Yes, I know. I’m heading over to the manor now to get some concrete answers. Hopefully by tomorrow, we’ll get our sizing corrected.” 

“I hope you do.” 

Marinette hurried down the hall, coworkers giving her concerned glances. 

It was pretty obvious, even to those who weren’t immediately in the office:

The company was a sinking ship, and Marinette was the only one who had a bucket. 

You knew the goddess Venus

Would start this love between us

You inspired me with desire

You've Got Me Voodoo'd

Marinette let herself into the manor, though it wasn’t her day to work there. Thankfully, it seemed like Nathalie was too busy to notice her arrival. 

Up at Adrien’s bedroom door, she was about to knock. Then she noticed his door was cracked open. 

Surely spying on him slightly wouldn’t be wrong?

She pushed the door open a little more for her to peek through. 

On the other side of the room, staring out the window, stood Adrien. And that’s all he did. He just stood looking out the window. The lights in the room were off, backlighting his silhouette. She watched him for a moment, waiting. Nothing. 

Then she knocked. “Adrien? Are you decent?”

“Yes, I am.” He spoke formally. 

She opened the door fully, and he turned to look at her with the most plastic smile she had ever seen. 

He didn’t have his dimples. 

“Hello Marinette, it’s nice to see you. I didn’t know you were working here today.” 

“Nice to see you too. I haven’t had the chance to talk to you properly the last few days, you’ve been so busy.” 

“I have been, I apologize.” 

“It’s not your fault. I know how your father is.” She took a seat on the couch, and pulled out her salad from her bag. “Sorry, I’d wait to eat with you, but I’m so hungry.” 

“You may eat. I understand.” Though he just stared at her, still smiling, and still standing. 

“Are you going to sit?” 

“I can.” He sat next to her, leaving a cushion of space in-between. Normally, he would practically be in her lap. 

“You don’t need to be so formal, you know. We’re alone.”  

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

She frowned slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. Just like...relax.” 

Adrien looked at her, before exhaling loudly and sinking into the couch more. “Is this relaxed enough?” 

She shrugged. 

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” 

“Doing?” 

“Yeah, you’ve been acting super weird lately.” 

He tilted his head slightly. “Weird? How so?” 

“I don’t know, stiff? Formal? Just kind of...stand off-ish. And forgetful. There've been some pretty obvious mistakes in sizing for this collection, and you approved them. You haven’t been in the office the last few days, so I was worried.” 

He considered this. “I’m sorry if my absence caused you any inconveniences. I wasn’t aware I needed to be at the office.” 

She blinked a few times, incredulously. This was absolutely bizarre. “You don’t need to be there, you just usually hang around after shoots or fittings and keep me company.” 

“Oh, because we are friends, right? My good friend Marinette.”  

“Yes!” She slammed her Tupperware down. “This is what I’m talking about! It’s like you don’t know who I am!”

He frowned, the expression running lines in his face. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m having a hard time right now, and I’m kind of exhausted. I’m…kind of confused.”

She took a calming breath. “Okay. I get it. You’re stressed. Let’s talk this out though, okay?”

He twisted up his mouth in thought. “Okay, what would you like to talk about?” 

“What’s got you stressed? Is your dad breathing down your neck? Are deadlines too much to handle with modeling too? Do you need a vacation?” 

He stared at her, blankly. “I’m not sure. I would have to think about it.” 

“Well, you know you can talk to me about anything. I care a lot about you, Adrien.” 

“Oh…that’s nice.” He smiled and patted her hand.

It sounded incredibly patronizing. And it hurt. 

“What is up with you? You’ve been acting so strange! You’re not the boy I know!”

You knew you had the power

And even picked the hour

When the full moon was up above

I was hypnotized when I looked into your eyes

My heart was filled with love

The unbelievable plastic smile shifted then, relaxing ever so slowly, until it was gone, and it almost seemed like it was never there. 

“You should go.” Adrien said, hollowly. 

“What?” 

“You should leave now. I don’t think you should be here. Does Nathalie know you are here?”

Marinette swallowed. “No, she doesn’t. I mean—I didn’t think you’d mind. You usually like it when I come to hang out…” she looked to the floor, “at least you used to.” 

“Please give me thorough warning the next time you need to speak with me.” 

She snapped the lid back on her lunch, the second time she had done so. She only had a few bites, just like last time. 

And food just didn’t taste as good without him around. 

“Fine. You know what? I won’t bother you again. Next time, I’ll send an email, like I do with all my other co-workers.” She slid her lunch into her bag, and stood. “The sizing for this collection needs some serious work, and I’ve been the one to have to fix it, on top of all my other responsibilities. Please do better next time, Mr. Agreste.” She shouldered her bag, and walked out. 

Once the door slammed behind her, she let the tears gather in her eyes, but didn’t let them fall. 

So it was over then. Her friendship with Adrien, her best friend, was over. And she wasn’t getting an explanation. 

“Marinette,” Tikki said, sadly. “It can’t be your fault. You didn’t do anything.” 

“I know. And that’s the worst part. Because that means I can’t fix it.” 

She left the Agreste mansion that day, not knowing the next time she walked through those doors, life would be completely different.

Just like the siren Circe

You've got me at your mercy

Always to be brave and bold

Mama, You've Got Me Voodoo'd

It was late. Too late for anyone to be calling, and yet, here her phone was ringing. Marinette fumbled for it. Grabbing it and blinding herself with the screen.

It was 3am, and Adrien was calling her. 

She loved a late night confession as much as the next girl, but she had a presentation in the morning. What was he thinking? 

She hoped it was an apology. Maybe he was finally going to break down and tell her everything that was going wrong. 

Or maybe he was going to confess he didn’t actually know how clothing measurements worked and he’d been guessing the whole time.

“Hello?” She grumbled.

“Marinette.” His voice was so stern, so cold, it gave her goosebumps. “Did I wake you?” He asked, softer.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, but it’s important.” 

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed. “You were right. I’m not the boy you knew.”

More awake now, she sat up in bed. This had obviously been driving him wild for a while. “We all change, Adrien. It’s okay. If you’re going through something, I’m here for you. Just be honest with me.” 

“That’s not—“ he sighed, a growl at the end. “Look, just…I don’t have much time. I don’t know what he—what I was going to tell you that night, but it probably wasn’t good.” 

Another voice was on his end of the line. “What are you doing?! Who are you talking to?!”

“Shit. Just look in the basement!”

“What?!”

“How dare you!” 

“Let go of me!”

And the line went dead. 

What. The. Hell.

She called him back, now completely wide awake. 

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…”

--

All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

[stargazing-enby]

The Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Jumper

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Eighth Year, Pining, Fluff | Read on AO3

“Harry!" 

Ron and Hermione halted, leaving Harry no choice but to do the same. He was exhausted, and it had already taken too much energy to get up from their table at the Three Broomsticks so they could make it to the Hogwarts grounds before Filch closed the gates in their faces. The last thing he wanted was to talk to people, lovely as Madam Rosmerta was. 

“Sorry to keep you, kids, but someone forgot this on one of the tables. Would you please do me the favour of taking it back to Hogwarts with you? I still have patrons to attend.” 

“Uh...sure.” Harry took the khaki jumper she was handing him—gosh, but it was much softer than it looked—and she smiled at him appreciatively. 

“How do you know it’s from a Hogwarts student, though?” Hermione asked. 

Madam Rosmerta snorted. 

“Because none of my patrons are naive enough to step into the inn whenever you kids are taking over the town. Teenagers are loud as all hell, in case you hadn’t noticed!” 

“All right,” Harry said quickly, dreading the idea of the exchange turning into a full-fledged conversation. “We’ll take care of it. Have a nice evening, Madam Rosmerta.” 

On their way back to the castle, though, Harry started to regret his decision. It was the beginning of the school year, and the transition from summer to autumn had fooled many Hogwarts students into putting on warm clothes to fight the morning chill, which meant practically everyone had ended up carrying jumpers and jackets over their shoulders and around their waists for most of the day. The jumper could be anyone’s. 

“What are you going to do with the jumper, anyway? It could be anyone’s,” Hermione echoed his thoughts, turning from Ron to Harry.

“I have no idea,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe you could hand it to one of the Heads of House. Or...” Her voice shifted into that tone of hers that meant she knew she’d come up with a brilliant idea, “we could tell the ghosts to ask around the castle and see if anyone is missing a jumper!” 

Even as Harry nodded, Ron shook his head in disbelief. 

“Or you could just smell it,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to either of them. Harry and Hermione just stared at him. “What?” 

“That’s kind of creepy,” Harry said. 

“Wha— No it’s not! Don’t you know clothes smell like their owners?” Silence. Ron looked increasingly exasperated. “Come on, don’t tell me your families didn’t smell the clothes lying around the house all the time to figure out who they belonged to!” 

“Er…I’m afraid not.” 

“That’s probably only a necessity when you have seven kids’ clothes to keep track of,” Hermione offered. 

“Yeah…fair enough,” Ron grumbled. “Still, it won’t hurt to try. If it’s from someone our year we’ll probably be able to recognise them.” 

Harry doubted that would be the case, but then Hermione and Ron turned to him, expectant, and he didn’t have a choice but to bring a corner of the jumper to his face and give it a sniff. 

“...Oh.”

“Well?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s…” Harry smelled it again. “It’s familiar.” Familiar and nice, he thought, giving it one extra sniff for good measure. “But I just can’t tell who it is.” 

“Oh?” Ron grabbed a sleeve, brought it to his nose. “Hmm…Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s definitely not a Gryffindor bloke. ‘Mione, why don’t you try?” 

“I’ll pass, thank you very much.” 

“Eh, that’s fine. I’m sure if we leave it in the Eighth Year Common Room someone will claim it sooner or later.” 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, folding the jumper properly over his arm. 

As a new conversation started, Harry held the jumper a little bit closer. 

***

The stupid thing was still where they’d left it—hung over one of the Common Room couches, the one nearest the hearth—when they came back from Hagrid’s, its pale khaki tone contrasting starkly with the purple sofa. 

Hermione led the way to their usual corner of the room, keen on getting some more homework done before bed, and Harry tried to ignore the jumper, just visible out of the corner of his eye. His friends had clearly forgotten about it, and Harry didn’t bring it up again. 

But the feel of it, the scent of it, was ingrained in his thoughts, and concentrating on his Potions essay soon proved to be an impossible task. Merlin, he knew that scent. He knew it well; every time he’d sniffed the jumper, it’d been like a word was on the tip of his tongue; like a thought in the back of his mind wouldn’t come forth.

Like there was a need, buried deep within him, that he couldn’t fulfill, because he didn’t know what it was he was yearning for. Who it was he was yearning for. 

So he looked. Every few minutes, as much as he tried to avoid it, he looked back at the couch, waiting, hoping that someone would walk past and go, Hey! That’s where it was! And the missing piece inside Harry’s mind would finally click. 

But no one picked the jumper up, and when practically everyone had gone to their dorms, and Ron and Hermione had finished neglecting their homework—Ron’s fingers tracing Hermione’s knuckles, her cheek resting on his shoulder, a goofy smile brightening his face—and seemed ready to call it a night, Harry decided he simply couldn’t leave it alone. 

“You guys go ahead,” he told them. “I feel like I’m finally making progress with this essay, and if I stop now it’s going to be impossible to pick it up again tomorrow.”

As soon as he was alone, though, Harry stuffed the parchment in his bag and made for the couch at a pace just slightly faster than could be reasonably considered walking. 

Ah. The scent was just as enticing as he remembered it from earlier. 

Harry basked in it for a few moments. When someone walked into the Common Room—Terry and Hannah, who nodded at him on their way to their dorms—he let go of it as though it had burned him, but as soon as he was alone again he draped it over his lap and raked a hand over it, thinking, wondering. 

It wasn’t Hannah’s or Terry’s, Harry knew: not just because they hadn’t recognised it on sight, but because the smell did not belong to either of them. It was…deeper. It was masculine, definitely—a hint of sweat at the armpit area, like the owner hadn’t taken it off straight away after growing hot underneath it—and it was intense, in that it did things to Harry; riled him up, and brought him back down from the high, only to make his heart quicken again as soon as the thrill of it had diluted in his veins. 

Sighing, Harry lay on his back and placed the jumper, once again, over the armrest behind his head, just close enough for the scent to reach him. 

The hearth crackled. A House Elf vanished the crumbs and dust from the floor with a spell and disappeared again. Nearly-Headless Nick floated by, but didn’t seem to notice him. 

The door to the Common Room didn’t open again. 

***

“Are we going to do this every night now?” Greg grumbled, dragging the last word—practically dragging himself to the Common Room behind Draco. 

“Only until I force Slughorn to give me an Outstanding,” Draco said. “Which won’t take long, because my first essay was clearly perfect, and if that one wasn’t enough for him, this one will for sure. I swear that old man has it out against me!” 

A portrait shushed him, and Draco flipped it the bird. It wasn’t like there was anyone sleeping in the bloody halls. Or roaming them, for that matter: only Prefects and Eighth Years were allowed outside the Common Rooms past curfew, and it had been a good hour since he’d seen any of the former around. 

“Gardyloo,” he told Sir Cadogan upon reaching the Eighth Year Common Room entrance. Glad as he was that he didn’t have to share a space with people from other years, entering his new Common Room had to be one of the most draining moments of his day. And so, before Sir Cadogan could start spewing nonsense about him and Greg, Draco Silencio’d him, watching as the knight gestured dramatically without uttering a sound until the door had closed. 

“Draco, isn’t that your…?”

Draco saw it just as Greg pointed at it. 

“My jumper.” Salazar, he’d put that jumper on that morning, hadn’t he? When had he even taken it off? He’d completely forgotten all about it. 

He doubted he would ever forget the sight that greeted them, however. 

“Uh, Draco…? What’s Potter doing with your jumper?” 

“It would seem that he is cuddling it, Gregory,” Draco said, tone flat. Completely out of tune with his raging thoughts. 

“More like curling himself around it,” Greg murmured, and Draco could only agree. 

Merlin. Potter looked so young when he slept. So small, like he was afraid to take up space. His hair fanned over his forehead and his face, some of it caught between his arm and Draco’s jumper. His chest falling and rising slowly, evenly. His feet pressed close as if to keep their warmth. 

Draco shook his head, annoyed that he had allowed himself to be caught off-guard by the sight, and walked up to Potter. Grasped his jumper, and pulled at it. 

Potter’s eyes snapped open and stared right into his. 

***

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Fuck,” Harry slurred, sitting up, half-asleep and entirely too awake, as Malfoy took the jumper from him and just stared at him. “Fuck. Sorry. Madam Rosmerta told me to bring it…the...you’d left it there. It’s yours, right?” he asked, even though he didn’t need to. It was Malfoy’s, of course it was Malfoy’s. His strong, deep, alluring scent was unmistakable now. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He sounded weird—strained. His eyes were fixed on Harry. “It’s mine.” 

“Right,” Harry nodded. Then, after a few moments: “Er. Sorry about that. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Malfoy snorted. 

“Never would’ve guessed.” 

“Can we go to bed now?” 

Harry whipped his head around—he hadn’t noticed Goyle was there with them. 

“Go ahead,” Malfoy told him. “I’m right behind you.”

“M’kay then. G’night, Potter,” Goyle said with a yawn, dragging his feet to the stairs. 

“Er…night?” 

Malfoy huffed again. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot when he’s sleepy.”

“No offence, but he’s an idiot all the time,” Harry said. 

“You’re one to talk.” Malfoy looked at him, then. He wasn’t as stiff now, although he was still weirdly clinging to his jumper, a gesture that reminded Harry of his own fixation with it earlier. “No one with more than two brain cells falls asleep in the Common Room, honestly.” 

“Piss off, I was exhausted!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Malfoy retorted. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t utilise your perfectly comfortable bed to meet the need, though.” 

Harry glared at him, and Malfoy arched an eyebrow. 

“Well?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Harry bit back—a little childishly, he knew, but it wasn’t like Malfoy was acting much more maturely right now. “Did you enjoy the sight that much?” 

“Wh—don’t be preposterous!” Malfoy spluttered, a grimace distorting his sharp features. A grimace that did nothing to distract Harry from the angry blush spreading across his cheeks. From the way Malfoy averted his gaze, clutching at the jumper so hard he was almost twisting it. 

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed. “You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” 

Malfoy’s panicked gaze turned back to him. 

“No, I didn’t!” 

Almost as mesmerised as he was amused, Harry stood. He took one more look at Malfoy’s increasingly flushed expression, just to be sure he wasn’t reading it wrong, and then stepped into Malfoy’s personal space. When Malfoy’s breath hitched, Harry, heart in his throat, brought a hand to his flushed cheek. It was soft: softer than the jumper. 

Malfoy stood completely still, wide eyes stuck on Harry’s face. A breath stuck in his lungs: waiting. 

Heart racing, Harry let his hand stray back. Let himself caress Malfoy’s cheek and jaw, let himself cup Malfoy’s head at the nape, play with the hair there—Merlin, was there anything about Malfoy that wasn’t illegally soft?—and lean forward to take a long, deep sniff of his hair. 

Malfoy shivered, and it suddenly hit Harry just how close their bodies were. 

“Potter.” a broken whisper.

Harry inhaled again, his own skin tingling with excitement—anticipation—lust for that scent. That scent that belonged to Malfoy, that now had every reason to drive him fucking insane, to draw him near, to leave him hanging. How had he not recognised it straight away? There was nobody else who could elicit such a response from him. Whose mere closeness thrilled him like this. 

“I needed to know,” Harry said, voice low, as he let his hand slide down slightly, a caress that ended on the jut of Malfoy’s spine at the base of his neck, fingers splayed over the edge of a shoulder blade. Then, pulling back his hand, taking a step back: “I needed to know who that intoxicating scent belonged to.”

As Harry retreated toward the stairs, Malfoy swayed, eyes closed. Jumper clutched close to his chest. 

***

The following evening, when Harry arrived at the Common Room after dinner, a deep grey jumper was draped over the armrest of the couch closest to the hearth. 

[startanewdream]

Teenage behaviour

For @sweeethinny​ ‘s amazing prompt: ‘Instead of Harry seeing Molly's boggart, he sees Lily's, and faces him and his father dead on the floor, while his mother panics’.

Thanks again for this prompt! I always love to explore Lily and Harry’s relationship!

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

______________________________

Harry's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

Lily has been stealing glances in his direction all night, ever since she got home from her shift, and even though he is talking and eating and acting normal, she can see there is something restrained about him.

She looks around, trying to understand what is dampening his mood - not that it would need much lately, but still, he should be more thrilled about returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, especially considering their fear that he would be expelled. Everything seems normal, though. The kitchen is full of people talking and drinking, enjoying that last-minute party, and everyone's mood seems better than usual. She sees Ron listing the qualities of his new broom to Tonks, while Hermione is talking with Remus about her project of rights for house-elves. Both Ron and Hermione are still beaming because of today’s news.

She raises her eyes to the banner Molly hanged over the dinner table. That brings a warm smile to her lips; Molly had sounded more cheerful than Lily had seen her all summer when she had told proudly of Ron being made a prefect.

Then her eyes fall on Harry again. He is looking wistfully at the banner, with just a hint of guilt shining in his eyes.

Understanding hits her.

He wanted to be a prefect.

That doesn't make much sense for her, considering how Harry always inspired himself in James and how much Harry doesn’t seem to particularly care for authority figures, but there is disappointment and hurt in his eyes, no matter how much he tries to hide it.

Maybe it was some expectation that Dumbledore would choose him? Or he feels that people don’t trust him anymore? Or maybe he is feeling like he let his parents down for not being a prefect?

Whatever it is, she will have to do something about it. This would be easier if James was there that night - Harry does have a tendency to always hear whatever his dad says -, but since he is away on Order duty tonight, Lily will handle it alone. 

She looks around once more before locating Sirius and Ginny talking animatedly to each other; they are close enough to Harry so he will be able to hear them talking, so she approaches them.

‘Aubrey’s head was twice the normal size’, Sirius is saying, opening his hands to emphasize it, almost hitting Lily. ‘Oh, sorry, Lily’.

‘No harm done’, she says lightly. ‘Are you telling the infamous balloon head prank?’

‘I will let you know it’s one of the best Marauders pranks to date’, Sirius replies, seeming very proud of himself.

‘Don’t believe him, they originally wanted Aubrey’s head to shrink’, she tells Ginny conspiringly, making Ginny smirk. ‘And they didn’t even try to hide it, it led them directly into detention. No wonder you never made prefect’.

She knows Harry is looking in their direction, but she pretends to not notice.

‘Can you imagine, you and James as prefects?’

Sirius shudders, putting his hands over his heart and looking properly scandalous, just as Lily knew he would be.

‘We would never! Plus we would have to give ourselves detentions on a daily basis’.

‘Like Remus ever gave you any’, she scoffs playfully.

‘Well, he could turn a blind eye on us sometimes. Ok, most of the time’, Sirius concedes when Lily just raises her eyebrows. ‘But I remember a certain Head Girl doing the same’.

Lily laughs shamelessly.

‘If I didn’t catch you, how could I do anything? And with James as Head Boy, you certainly learned to avoid being caught’.

‘It sure helps when your best friend is Head Boy and decides the patrolling routes’, Sirius agrees, grinning.

‘Hang on’, Ginny says, frowning. ‘James was a Head Boy? Your James?’

Lily sees Harry joining their circle and she smiles to herself.

‘Yeah, we were as shocked as you when we found out’, says Sirius dramatically.

‘But he wasn’t a prefect -’

‘Head Boy and Head Girl may have been prefects, but if the headmaster thinks someone else should be, he can choose’, Lily explains. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you were a prefect or not, as long as you are responsible and trusting, really’.

‘You know, that was the only time I really considered telling Dumbledore we were animagi - we couldn’t let him think James was responsible -’

‘Come on’, Lily says fairly. ‘He had improved a lot by our seventh year, it made sense he would be a Head Boy’.

‘Oh, don’t tell my mum that’, Ginny pleads in a hushed whisper. ‘There is no way I will be a prefect next year, but then she might hope I get sense enough to be a Head Girl’. Ginny turns to Harry, shaking her head in fake panic, and Harry lets out an amused laugh.

They all laugh then, and Lily feels good when she sees Harry is more relaxed now as if remembering his father wasn’t prefect either is enough to raise his spirits.

She doesn’t say it and she doesn’t really mind, but she thinks Harry could be a Head Boy in a couple of years. Harry does have the leadership she saw in James in their last year at Hogwarts, even if he doesn’t mind breaking the rules now and then. But if he is not chosen, that will be fine for her too.

Lily hopes Harry understands this.

She shares a drink with Sirius, who is still telling adventures of the Marauders to Ginny, while keeping an eye on Harry. He drifts off to talk with Fred and George and Mundungus - a trio that speaks of trouble for her -, then he leaves them to sit on a chair, pretending to be busy drinking a butterbeer. His face is troubled once more and Lily resists the urge to sigh.

Harry’s changes of mood are more erratic than she can deal with these days. She always thought Death Eaters and bigotry would be the biggest challenges in her life, but now she thinks understanding teenage behaviour is much more difficult.

She throws a sympathetic look at Molly, who is yawning now, admiring the fact that Molly dealt with that seven times.

‘Oh, sorry, Lily’, Molly says, flushing. ‘I just woke up so early today…’

Lily smiles.

‘Go get some rest, Molly. I patch things up here later’. And when Molly opens her mouth, looking worried, Lily smiles. ‘I won’t let them stay up late, I promise’.

‘Thank you, dear. I am really tired… I’ll just sort out that boggart before I turn in -’

‘No, no, let me’, Lily offers. ‘Is that thing shaking the cabinet in the drawing room?’

‘Yes, Alastor confirmed to me tonight it’s a boggart’.

‘That’s on me then. Go rest’, Lily insists. ‘You already made too much today - helping to sort out that last-minute shopping list, this nice dinner. I’ll handle the boggart later, I will have to wait for James to come home anyway’.

Molly looks at her with a knowing expression.

‘I can never sleep before Arthur returns too’, she murmurs, and Lily is familiar with the fear shining in Molly’s brown eyes.

‘Everything is going to be okay’, she says calmly, even though they both know it is an empty promise. 

Molly bides her good night and Lily watches her go.

It really must be more difficult for her, Lily thinks. Seven children, one of them not talking with the family, and Molly already lost her two brothers in the first war. That makes the Weasley braver than her and James, she ponders; they aren’t hunted. They are choosing to be part of this war.

They really are the best family. She thanks silently the day Harry decided to sit together with Ron on the Hogwarts Express.

Speaking of her son, Mad-Eye is talking to him, showing him something, and even though Alastor looks as delighted as he can be, Harry seems to be sick.

Lily turns in his direction, determined to fix the situation again, but before she can reach them, Sirius distracts Mad-Eye and Harry escapes, crossing the kitchen in quick steps and slipping through the door before anyone can talk to him.

Great.

She walks to Mad-Eye and sees he is showing around an old photograph of the first Order of the Phoenix, that finally comes to her hand. Lily looks at herself, smiling hand-in-hand with James, and is startled to see how young they both look. Well, not just them. Everyone.

And those who are not here anymore look even younger.

She sees Marlene’s grin and Dorcas’s wistful smile and longing burns inside her for those evenings talking in the Common Room, for their girl’s night out after ending Hogwarts, for all the plans they made. They are so happy and hopeful in her memories, blissful to the fact Dorcas would face Voldemort alone, or that Marlene and all her family would perish in a fire.

She never said goodbye to any of them.

‘What were you talking about with Harry, Alastor?’, she asks in a quiet voice, returning the photo to him as if the distance can lessen the pain that photograph brings to her. She feels a little bit mad at him for bringing this photo to a party.

It’s not like she can or wants to forget all of those who died - it’s just she did not expect to see the reminder of all they lost so suddenly...

‘Just showing the boy the original group. Thought he might like it - so many stories to tell’.

Lily wonders if he told Harry the tragic end of most of those stories and she grimaces at the thought.

Harry doesn’t return so, after a while, Lily leaves the kitchen too. People are still talking animatedly and there are still a few minutes before she will have to break the party. But Lily doesn’t feel like chatting right now, so she may as well get things done. She considers going to see Harry, to check if his things are all packed for tomorrow, but he probably doesn’t want company. He is like her in that sense; prefers to be left alone to brood.

She enters the drawing room, looking around with mild interest. The children did make a good job cleaning everything up, but Grimmauld Place will never seem a happy place. Too many bad memories and dark thoughts, she thinks, as Kreacher passes behind herself, mumbling to himself and glaring at her.

Sirius forbade him of saying mudblood, but she only needs to look him in the eyes to feel the word.

There is nothing she can do about it and Lily prefers to fix on the problems she can solve anyway.

The cabinet close to the window is giving small jumps as if it’s alive. She walks to it, her mind already fixed on the remembrance of Aubrey with that big balloon head (he had really been a jerk and James and Sirius had pranked him for harassing first years muggle-borns, so she hadn’t mind laughing that time), and takes out her wand.

‘Alohomora!’

The cabinet opens and, appearing out of thin air, she sees James holding Harry as a baby, both lying in the ground, with eyes closed, pale and still. Dead.

They are dead.

Her heart beats faster and her mouth is suddenly dry, even as Lily knows this is just the boggart. It feels more like a dream, though, so she stays still for a few seconds, watching her husband and son’s corpses with a strange detachment. She really thought it would be just a dementor - and she would be ready for it this time.

But Lily supposes the memories that the dementor had arisen activated the true fear she had felt that night - that James and Harry would die while everything she could do was to watch hopelessly. Like she is doing now.

The fear creeps through her mind like smoke she can’t help but inhale, and that smoke makes her head light and dizzy, creating images in her head. She pictures how her life would be if that had happened, if Lily had taken Voldemort’s offer to stand aside while he murdered her husband and son and she was left alone. 

And lost. 

She wonders what she would have done and it’s surprisingly easy to answer. Find and kill Pettigrew, for starters, because there would be no James to hate him more than her and no son to give her other priorities. Then she would go after Voldemort; she would not rest until he was dead, no matter the cost. The boy-who-lived would be replaced by the mother-who-killed.

But then - and that is the scariest part - there would be nothing. No reason to live for. Her days would be empty and pointless, forever missing the two people she had most loved and knowing no vengeance would ever fill that hole…

‘Mum?’, she hears a voice asking, and for a moment Lily can’t really match the voice to anyone, certain she had never heard it before, that he died when he was just a baby -

She turns slowly to find Harry - her living son - at the door, looking at the dead bodies on the floor, then at her.

‘It’s a boggart’, Harry realizes. ‘Don’t - get out of here - let someone else -’

Harry looks worried for her. Somehow, this clears the smoke in her head. Lily steadies her hand and looks back at the corpses lying on the floor with nothing but determination.

‘Riddikulus!’, she says loud and clear, and the boggart turns into a man with a big blue balloon in the place of his head. Lily lets out a nervous laugh and the boggart vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Her heart is still beating faster, so Lily takes a moment to calm herself, to let all those bad feelings slip out of her; she almost jumps when she feels Harry’s hand on her shoulder. She had not heard him walking to her. 

'Mum?’, he calls very quietly. ‘Are you ok?’

'It was just a stupid boggart, Harry', she says, forcing herself to smile at him. Harry is frowning, seeing through her empty smile just as she sees through his. 'Just go to bed, tomorrow is -'

'Do you always see us?', he asks in a hushed whisper, ignoring her dismissal. 'I mean - that -'

He stops, unable to continue, and Lily feels a sudden urge to just tell him it was nothing and to let it go. She knows Harry would hate it, but he also would respect her desire to be left alone with her thoughts and fears.

But since all she’s been asking of her son lately is that he talks to her, Lily supposes she has to set the example.

'Sometimes, yes’, she admits in a low voice. ‘At other times it’s a dementor. But it’s all related to the same thing, really’.

Harry looks deep in thought and he stares at the point where the bodies were.

'It was me as a baby', he says, and Lily nods. 'But - why? I mean, I lived’.

She sighs once more and sits on the couch.

'Come here', she asks, and Harry sits opposite to her on the same couch, his legs crossed just like he used to do when he was young and was listening to one of her bedtime stories, except this time most of his leg is out of the couch. That makes her feel strangely comforted, even if she feels her eyes tearing up a little. ‘You grew up so fast’.

‘Mum -’, he starts, looking half-embarrassed as he always does when James or Lily start remembering him as a kid.

‘I am saying it like a good thing’, she promises. ‘I just feel so lucky to have witnessed it all’.

Harry seems confused.

‘Lucky?’

She looks away to where the boggart was on the floor.

‘When I think about that night - the one where you got your scar - I always remember how close we were to lose everything. How you were almost… you and James…’

‘But it didn’t happen’, he says forcefully. ‘We all survived’.

‘Yes, but back then, at the time - I didn’t think we would make it. I really thought… I really lost hope for a moment. Sometimes I still dream of that night, but my worst nightmares are… of that’. She points to the floor. ‘If somehow you and James were gone and I was left alone -’

She can’t continue. Harry breathes heavily.

‘You wouldn’t be alone, I mean, you would still have Remus and Sirius, they -’

‘Harry’, she interrupts him softly, looking back at him. He already seems distraught, but she has to make him understand. ‘I love them, of course, but how would it be if I and your father had died then? If you were raised by Remus and Sirius?’

He stays silent for a moment and Lily can see him picturing all that alternative life. Lily supposes Sirius as a figure parent is an amusing idea, but Harry doesn’t smile for a second.

‘It would never be enough’, he whispers at least. ‘They would never replace you’.

‘They would never try to, I am sure, but... This is it. A life without you and your father would be just - just empty for me. And that’s what I fear the most. That I would be too weak that night and that I had to watch you both dying’.

‘You are strong’, Harry says resolutely, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, though Lily can’t tell if he is doing that for her sake or his own, to also confirm to him that everything is alright. ‘I - I heard what happened’.

‘What do you mean?’

Harry looks abashed, and he lowers his eyes.

'That’s why dementors hit me so hard. The thing I hear when they are near… It’s that night. Bits of it, but I hear... You and Voldemort. You plead for me, and he - he laughs and tells you to stand aside, but you refuse. You always refuse’.

Lily blinks, feeling the blood leaving her face.

'You never said anything’.

'I didn't want to upset you', Harry whispers. 'I know you don't like remembering it'.

She gives him a tiny smile despite everything. She never told him about her own worries, but Harry probably noticed how even though she didn't have any problem explaining about Voldemort, only James would talk to him about that Halloween night.

Harry sees more than people give him credit for.

'You could have told me', she says softly. 'It is not your job to worry about me, Harry'.

'But I do', he admits. 'I don't want anything to happen to you'.

There is a desperation in his voice now, like if he is really afraid something could happen with her and, with a jolt, Lily realizes they never really talked about what happened earlier that month, about how Harry drew away the dementors from her.

About how he needed to do it because she had frozen.

'I am sorry to have scared you', she says tenderly.

'It's not - I wasn't really scared with that boggart'.

Lily believes him. Harry seems to think his father is invincible and he is too selfless to regard his own death as something to be afraid of.

'I meant about the dementors a few weeks ago. And if somehow you thought I couldn't handle that boggart right now'.

Harry blinks.

'I didn't think that', he says slowly, and Lily knows he is considering his own feelings on the matter. 'I mean - I know what you are capable of'.

'I just don't want you thinking that you need to take care of me. I am the parent here. That's my job'.

'I don’t want to lose you’, he whispers guiltily, as if somehow even thinking about it should be wrong. ‘I wouldn’t - I don’t know how I could cope if -’

Harry looks so fragile right now that she does the simplest thing. She stretches her legs, in an offer, and Harry lies down, placing his head on her lap, allowing her to caress his hair like she used to do when he was young, until he would fall asleep.

‘I won’t live forever, Harry’, she says softly. ‘Someday you will be without me - and really, that’s what I hope for’. When he looks startled, she adds with a smile: ‘That you get to live longer than me. That you get a full happy life’.

‘It will only be happy if you are there’, he insists. ‘You and dad. You -’, he stops, closing his eyes as if he doesn’t want her to see more of his emotions than he is already letting it show on his voice. ‘You need to be careful. I know you are good, but - sometimes people are just in the wrong place in the wrong time’.

She knows what he is talking about and she remembers seeing Harry and Cedric Diggory leaving together for the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, both looking thrilled that it would be over soon and that one of them might win the Tournament.

And she remembers when they all noticed something was off, when there were whispers of a dead champion and how she had feared so much that it would be Harry… And the guilt she’d felt later when she was just relieved that it wasn’t him.

The good die young, her mother used to say somberly when she saw news of a tragedy.

Lily thinks about the photograph of the old Order, of hope and dreams that mattered none when the people were dead, and she finally understands what upset Harry enough to make him leave the dining party.

‘Moody told you what happened with people from the first Order of the Phoenix’, she says.

Harry bits his lips, looking away from her.

‘I can’t promise you me and your father will make it through this war, Harry’, she says slowly, wishing she could lie to him about it. ‘But I can assure you that we will make everything we can to live… and if not, we will always be with you, you do know that, right?’

She touches his chest, right above his heart, and Harry trembles.

‘I know’, he concedes at least, but there is sorrow in his eyes. Then he looks back at her. ‘Moody told me about the Prewetts and Benjy and the Longbottoms and… I recognized Marlene from that photo in your office. You never told me her whole family had died too’.

‘It was just too painful’, Lily sighs. ‘It was just after your first birthday, when we were already hiding and I remember thinking... maybe I should have done something, I should have protected her -’

‘It was not your fault!’, Harry cries, looking appalled that she feels like that.

Lily refrains herself of pointing out the irony there.

‘I know. It’s Voldemort’s fault’, she pauses, looking at the eyes that are a mirror to hers. ‘Everything that happened. Blame him, blame the people who think like him and allow him to ascend to power, but never blame anyone else’.

Harry blinks and doesn’t answer her. 

‘We are better prepared this time’, she tells him, still playing with his hair gently. ‘It will not be like in the First War - we started too late then and we were too few. Now - now we have a better idea of what we need to do, of what he’s after -’

‘The weapon’, he says, and Lily remembers their first night in Grimmauld Place and what little they had told Harry. They never really said it was a weapon, but if Harry thought so, it was for the better.

He didn’t need to hear about that prophecy, not yet. It would give him the wrong ideas probably.

‘Among other things’, she says vaguely. 

He sits again, looking rather upset at her.

‘You really won’t tell me?’

‘That’s not your burden to care, Harry. Not now. I know you don’t like to hear that and I know you don’t think it’s fair, but… when you are older. Of age, at least. After school. If there is still a war going on then… then we can talk about you joining the Order and knowing things’.

Harry doesn’t look like he believes her. ‘You would just not care if I joined the Order? Simple as that?’

‘I will care’, she guarantees, running a hand nervously through her hair as James would have done. ‘But I won’t forbid you. No one forbade me, it wouldn’t be fair if I tried to stop you’.

He still looks suspiciously, but Lily just returns his gaze without blinking. She is telling him the truth; sure, she will do everything she can so that Voldemort can be finished before he is of age, but if he is seventeen and the war is still happening, she knows she won’t be able to stop him.

Like her, Harry never refrains from doing the right thing and she taught him to never stand for prejudice.

‘And until then? What do I do? Just sit here waiting?’, he asks, but for once he doesn’t sound like he is fighting with her.

‘Of course not. You can study’. When Harry grimaces, she smiles. ‘Everything you do in school is important. Every lesson - yeah, even Potions, don’t give me that look. You study and you use it to prepare yourself. Not just you, but Ron and Hermione too. All of you must be ready for what happens outside. Life won’t be like in school all the time, where you know when a spell will hit you or that when the bell rings you are safe’.

Harry bits his lips, looking thoughtful.

‘I know it’s not. I mean - for the Triwizard Tournament I learned a lot of spells and how to cast them, but - when it comes to the real thing, when -’, he takes a deep breath. ‘- when I was in the graveyard with Voldemort, it’s not like in school. It’s just your guts and instinct and - and trying to survive’.

This is the most Harry has said about the night of Voldemort’s resurrection to her and, for the first time, Lily wonders if she really wants to know. Just thinking about the desperation he must have felt fighting for his life…

He survived, she tells herself. You won’t be able to keep him under your wings forever, so you give him all the skills you can. You make sure he will be ready.

‘That is it, Harry. Promise you will take your studies seriously this year. Not just because of the OWLs, but because you know what’s happening out here, even if everyone else is denying it’.

He looks solemnly as he gives a tiny nod to her.

‘I will. And I will make sure others are prepared too. I - I don’t want - what happened to Cedric - to ever happen again’.

She smiles serenely to him, even as she remembers Amos Diggory’s cries and thinks darkly he won’t be the last parent to despair for his child in this war.

The good die young.

‘Are you going to stay here?’, he asks, distracting her from her grim thoughts. Lily sighs.

‘No, I promised Molly I would make sure everyone is in their bed not too late. You know how chaotic September 1st can be. And then -’

‘Then?’

‘I will just stay up a little bit longer’.

Harry looks at her as if he can see all that she is not telling him.

‘Dad will be home late?’ he asks, though it doesn’t really seem a question. Lily just sighs, confirming it. ‘I could keep you company’.

Lily smiles more warmly now.

‘You can go rest, Harry, it’s no problem. I’ll just make myself a tea and wait in the kitchen’.

‘I’m not sleepy’, he assures her. ‘I haven’t been sleeping much. I keep having the weirdest dream, really… And, well, I thought we could make some hot chocolate’.

That brings a warmth to her that has nothing to do with the beverage. She thinks of late nights with James and Harry, especially in winter, when they would make hot chocolate and share it in front of the fireplace in their house.

That kind of silly small moments that never seem important as you are living them, but somehow they turn into your favourite memories.

‘With whipped cream?’, she asks, her voice lighter now, and Harry smirks, making his resemblance to James more evident.

‘You can even put a little bit of brandy and I won’t tell anyone’.

She blushes, getting up. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about’.

‘I’m fifteen, mum, I get it now what was the medicine in your chocolate’.

‘When did you get so smart?’, she asks playfully, taking his arm so they can descend the stairs together to the kitchen. ‘Anyway, no alcohol for you’.

‘Spoilsport’, he complains without any real malice. ‘When will I get to drink?’

‘If you are still asking me, Harry, then you are still too young, trust me’, Lily answers grinning.

Harry shakes his head, mumbling to himself almost indignantly but this is such a normal teenage behaviour that Lily will take it without complaining. That’s the kind of thing she wants him to be worried about.

She kisses him softly on the cheek before they enter the kitchen, knowing Harry would be too embarrassed to be seen receiving a kiss from his mother in front of everyone - another very usual teenage behaviour -, and smiles to herself.

‘Thanks for the company’, she says later, when they are alone in the kitchen after sending everyone to bed.

‘Anytime, mum’, he promises, filling his cup with whipped cream, while they accommodate themselves to wait for James to come home.

[artiewiles]

You Just Think You Love Me (3/7) Fact: Pidgeons can smell

“Agent Sterling! How can I help you?"

Lance smiled with his smile number two. "I'm looking for Walter. Do you know where he is, Martin?"

"Walter is in lab four. He's working on something dangerous."

He looked around the shared lab, where something exploded or ignited every now and then. "Of course, I understand. Thanks, Martin!"

"You’re welcome, Mr. Sterling ..."

But Lance was leaving already. Armed with a practiced number one smile, he walked through the corridors, his face completely calm. He’s going to do it today. He’s asking Walter on a date today. Maybe he'll turn him down. It does not matter. Nothing will change. They will stay friends. Everything will be fine. Everything will be alright. Everything will be fine.

(links to ao3 and wattpad)

He knocked on the lab door and entered the decontamination room when invited. He closed his eyes and let himself be sprayed with this and blown dry with that. When the green light came on, he continued. Along the way, he waved at the guy in the control room, who was in charge of the whole process. Then, he finally entered the lab looking as confident and normal as possible.

"Hi, Lance, what brings you here? It's great that you came!” Walter welcomed him and then followed with? "I have tested the new gadget I told you about. The one that helps you to get the bad guys on your side. You know, to make them trust you and after that to love you, to entrust their secrets, maybe even to persuade them to change careers. Wait…” He studied Lance carefully. "What's going on?"

He looked at him confused. "What, what should be going on?"

"You look ... pale. Is something wrong?"

"No." He shook his head quickly and exchanged the smile for a smaller and perhaps more plausible one. "I'm just a little tired, that's all. Tell me, what are your plans for tonight?"

"You really don't look well. What about my calming pillow, does it work? And wait, you didn’t have the canteen bread, did you? I'm sure it's not gluten-free, and you still have an upset digestive system because of the transformations."

"I'm fine. And the cushion works well, really. I sleep much better now.“ Lance waved his hand and tried not to pay any attention to his pounding heart. He should get himself together, for god sake!

"Okay. So, this one is done. Do you want to see it?"

He looked at Walter, who almost vibrated with enthusiasm. Was it just his imagination, or did his eyes shine? He smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Okay." He clapped and took a gray marble from a bowl. Although, when Lance looked at it properly, it seemed to bend slightly under the fingertips. "This is a mixture of gases and fragrant essences that directly affect the frontal lobe. And it works even when you have a cold. So we will not repeat Alaska again.“

Lance laughed softly. "That’s good. But we managed to slip out smoothly."

Walter pointed the ball at him. "You got out smoothly. I slid, and I still have bruises on my ass. I can’t believe it worked out. It was the weirdest fourth of July in my life.“

He raised an eyebrow. "Team Weird?"

Walter nodded with a smile. "Team Weird."

Is it just him, or do they look into each other’s eyes longer, than friends would?

It must have been longer than friends would look into each other’s eyes.

It was longer than friends would look unto each other’s eyes.

He made himself look at the gray ball.

Walter cleared his throat. "Um… yeah, so… Sure. Frontal lobe. Yeah. This," he pointed at the marble again, “will burst, and the air will release the scent. It's not very conspicuous, but it should be strong enough. I still plan on making it into a perfume that you can always wear. Just need to figure out how to give you immunity. It is a combination of our good old lavender with vanilla and sandalwood. Perfect for discovering any secrets and making best friends.”

He handed him the ball and put on a respirator. "Whenever you're ready, burst it."

He measured him suspiciously. "Why are you taking it?"

"Because I've been breathing it for a month, and when I overdose, I cuddle."

That wouldn't be so bad. He made himself look at the tiny ball in his hand. He took a deep breath.

"Wait!" Walter stopped him.

"What?"

He put on Lance an electrode cap and looked at his watch. "Go ahead."

Lance squeezed the ball between his fingers. It burst but nothing happened.

He frowned and looked at Walter.

"You have to wait. Breath in," he said muffled.

Lance listened. He smelled a faint scent. Smiled. It smelled nice. It reminded him of something…

"It works!" Walter cheered, watching Lance's brainwaves. "According to this, you are calmer and happier, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Lance smiled and took another deep breath. He felt calmer. He was fine. "Walter?"

"Yeah, Lance?"

"When we're done here, would you go on a date with me? Or in the evening? A film, dinner, or a walk through the art gallery sculpture park?”

Walter paled. "Oh no…"

The pleasant feeling was gone. Maybe he just didn't like the choices… “You don't want to go to the park? They still have summer opening hours, and you've said several times that you'd like to look at the statues. Or we can go to that cinema. We will find some with Korean movies… "

Walter was typing something furiously on his watch. "Not that."

Lance fell silent. He took off his cap and laid it on the table. Just calm down, nothing changes. "Okay, then no. It was just an idea.” He turned and smiled again. "Forget it."

"This is bad. This is very bad.“

Why doesn't he feel anything? Shouldn't it be sadder? He can't be in shock because of this.

"Hey, calm down." Lance wanted to put his hand on his shoulder, but then he changed his mind. "No need to make a fuss about it. Forget it. I have a meeting with the boss and then I have some other plans, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Lance, wait!"

He changed his mind! "Yeah?"

"You have to stay here. This is science! I screwed it up! I'm so sorry, I don't know how, but I screwed up."

He shook his head and swallowed down the disappointment. "It’s cool. Don't think about it anymore. See you tomorrow."

"No, you don't understand! The scent was too strong! I didn’t plan it.” He shrank. "Are you mad?"

He sighed and rubbed the spot where the cap had pressed him a little. "No, I'm not angry. And you didn't screw it up. I feel good."

"Exactly. You feel too well. And it's my fault! I didn't mean to, but I promise I'll fix it! "

"Walter, calm down and tell me exactly what happened. Breathe.“

Walter sat down on a barstool and took several breaths. Then he began to explain: "The scent is to make the enemy your best friend. But I didn't expect what he would do to a best friend.” He looked at Lance and widened his big blue eyes. "I think I did create by mistake… you can call it a love potion."

Lance burst out laughing. "A love potion? What are you talking about?"

"You…" he pointed at Lance, searching for the words.

"I," he pointed at himself with his thumb, "am not under the influence of any love potion."

"But you invited me to dinner."

He gritted his teeth and nodded. "Exactly."

"Because you're under the influence of a love potion!" Walter insisted. "But don't worry, this should go away soon."

"No, I invited you because I love you, and it did not go away in months!" Well, the cat was out of the bag.

"You think you like me because of the smell. That is all. There is nothing more.“

He opened his mouth to argue. Closed it with a click. If Walter needs to believe it… Now he gets it. Walter is not interested in Lance. It gives Lance a chance to back off while both of them save their faces. It saves their friendship. He nodded. "All right. If you’re right… I'll take time off and go home. I'll try to sleep it off. If you came up with something or figure out how to speed the process up, let me know.“

"Okay," Walter nodded with relief. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

Lance smiled and ruffled his hair. As he always does. He can still do that, can't he? "Sure thing."

He went through the decontamination room, then the whole agency. Responded to the greetings of others out of reflex. The smile number three plastered on his face. He turned into a pigeon and flew away. How much rum and whiskey does he still have at home?

Probably not enough.

[jemmahazelnut]

Motorcycle flight - Chapter one

Summary: Laxus is a biker, and as soon as he discovers that in the city there's a motorcycle track for enthusiasts where races are organized every month, he decides to go. As soon as he arrives, he will fall in love with that wonderful place, and will meet the handsome green-haired owner. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

This is my first mini-long of five chapters, I hope someone likes it. If you like let me know what you think with a comment. Enjoy the reading :)

P.S. English is not my first language, so certainly there are many mistakes that I don't even realize. So, I accept constructive criticism on how I can improve.

Chapter one, The motorcycle track

“Go Gajeel, go!” Lucy yelled from the stands of the Raijinshuu track. Cana next to her was drinking a beer and had her gaze was fixed on the competition, but at the name that her friend spoke she looked up confused.

“I thought you bet on Natsu,” she commented.

“No, last time I lost 20,000 jewels because of him. Gajeel will win, I'm sure,” the blonde said with her hands clasped on the railing and her eyes fixed on the competition. Cana didn’t object and turned to the track again, noting how there was a nice stalemate. Damn, that big blonde she had met a few nights before had told her he was going to win, she hoped she wasn't wrong to bet on him.

“Who did you bet on?” asked Mirajane next to her, who wasn't competing because her bike was currently at the mechanic.

“You'll see it,” said the brunette, narrowing her eyes and watching the blue bike pass Gajeel's. It was the last lap, in a few seconds the race would be over. She felt the tension in her arms as she hoped she hadn't lost her money. The bike made the last corner, a moment later straightened up and crossed the line. Cana jumped to her feet in exultation, while Lucy beside her took her head in her hands.

“Yeah! Fuck yeah! Yeahhhh!” Cana exulted, almost breaking the eardrums of the two girls next to her. Mirajane leaned over the railing to see who had won, sure she had never seen that bike there before. And actually, as soon as the other bikes reached the finish line and the race was finally over, the winner took off his helmet revealing a blond-haired man.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“My savior!” Cana shouted enthusiastically “I’ve won 100,000 jewels!” she screamed still excited as never before, she frantically printed a kiss on Mira's lips and then ran down the steps with the bottle of beer still in her hand that spilled everything everywhere. Mirajane watched dazedly as the girl entered the track and ran towards the blonde. “That was great!” she screamed loudly.

Laxus as soon as he heard that voice turned to the girl, still excited for his victory with a grin on his face. He saw Cana running towards him as she passed the other motorcyclists.

“You won!”.

“She’s more excited than me” Laxus thought and the grin widened. Oh yes, he was really satisfied. It was the first time he had competed on that fantastic track, and he had already made it clear to everyone who would be the next top rider for that year. It was thanks to that girl that he had discovered the place, and he really couldn’t but be happier. He didn't even know there was such a club when he moved to Magnolia, and when he went to the Raijinshuu Motorcycle Track for the first time and saw the races as a spectator, he immediately fell in love with that place.

In addition to the fantastic track, there was the nearby bar frequented only by motorcyclists or motorcycle enthusiasts. The beer was good and they made great sandwiches well filled the way he liked it. It would become his second home, he already knew it. In addition, he had also discovered that there was a mechanical workshop not far from there, and even if Laxus had already found a job and an apartment on the other side of the city, he would have been damned if he hadn’t at least taken a look. The ideal would have been to work nearby, but he had time to think about it. Meanwhile, he could enjoy his victories which, he was already sure, would be many.

“I told you to bet on me” was his arrogant reply as he ran a hand through his hair and Cana laughed.

“I'll buy you a beer, you definitely deserve it!” she exclaimed enthusiastically and then waved her arms to attract the attention of the two girls still on the bleachers. As Mirajane looked at her in perplexity, Lucy was about to cry over the money she had just lost.

“Okay,” the blond said as he set off with his bike towards the exit of the track. He certainly wouldn't have turned down a free beer. A few motorcyclists joined him, someone to compliment him, someone to find out who he was, since no one seemed to know him. And indeed, it was, Laxus had been to see the races only twice before deciding to register, so it was logical that no one remembered his face. A pink-haired boy was enthusiastic and kept asking him for life, death and miracles, too bad that Laxus didn't have time to answer because the boy kept talking and laughing like a machine.

“Next time I'll beat you!”.

“You’ve to beat me first,” retorted a biker full of piercings, and Laxus grinned but didn't answer, as a lot of people, boys and girls craned their necks to see who was that blond-haired stranger who had beaten their strongest bikers.

***

Freed kept tapping his pen nervously on the table, while he read the papers that the lawyer had just sent him. He was nervous, especially after his father had called him. Freed regretted having answered him, because hearing him had worsened his mood even more, and he really didn't believe it was possible given how he got up that morning. With bad news and a war on the way. But if his father believed that he would give up and that he would close the Raijinshuu, he was very wrong. He felt the phone vibrate and with pursed lips looked at who it was: his mother. Even more nervous he closed the call without even answering her. Maybe he should have blocked his parents directly so they wouldn't call him again.

A glass was placed in front of his eyes and Freed looked at Evergreen, who had just brought him a beer.

“You know, soon the race will be over and you’ll find yourself surrounded by a lot of people who just want to celebrate. Time to put the papers away,” she said plainly as she pushed the glass of beer towards him. Freed looked down at the reddish liquid and sighed wearily. He knew his friend was right, but he couldn't really feel comfortable.

“I have to finish seeing...”.

“Freed, everything’s in order. Your father can't do anything to get you shut down, you know that better than anyone,” she reminded him. Freed was silent for a moment and then shook his head.

“He’ll find something, he always does” he retorted irritably “And there are a lot of checks next week, tomorrow the ones on food, Thursday those on the safety of the track, then they’ll check the stands, then...”.

“Freed, look, checking those cards won't change anything anyway. And for today you should just relax,” Evergreen insisted and pushed the glass even more towards him. “Come on, now drink and close those files,” she ordered. Freed sighed but didn’t reply, knowing full well that her friend could become really stubborn. He put the papers away and then leaned back in the chair, taking the glass and trying to free himself from the thoughts that were making him nervous.

“Damn, the blondie really won!” Bickslow suddenly exclaimed from behind the counter. More than making beers, however, he was watching the race in progress on the television. Not that it was a problem, at the moment all the customers were out enjoying the race.

“Then he wasn't lying when he said he was going to win,” Evergreen commented in surprise looking up at the TV. Freed kept thinking about his father, those checks and the fact that he should call him back, sooner or later. He couldn't ignore him indefinitely, even though he’d have preferred to do so.

“Listen Freed, how about buying a bigger TV? It's unfair that we’ve to settle for a tiny screen when the people out there can enjoy the race properly,” Bickslow said, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Seems to be just fine to me,” he objected.

“I assure you it doesn't,” the bartender retorted with conviction. “In any case, people are coming. Ever, move your ass. I'm not going to do the work all by myself now that the crowd’s coming,” he said.

“But if I do everything myself” objected the girl going back behind the counter. Freed smiled slightly, thinking it would probably be useful to have another bartender. A little later people started coming in and Freed thanked that he was already seated with his beer so he didn't have to queue among all those people. Not that he should have done it anyway, since he was the boss of that place and at best, he would have taken it on his own.

A couple of guys greeted him and Freed smiled at them with a brief wave of his hand, until an angry blonde came to him. As soon as Lucy was in front of him, she slammed a hand on the table in irritation.

“You must prevent Cana from setting foot in here for the rest of the year,” she snapped. Freed raised an eyebrow, he was about to ask why but it wasn’t necessary, because the girl continued to speak. “It's not fair that she wins every bet, every time. Every most holy time. How is it possible? And why am I always losing? I was hoping to get back what I lost the last few times, but instead I find myself with 20,000 jewels less, and they all went into Cana’s hands!” she exclaimed irritably.

“Have you ever considered the idea of not placing bets anymore?” Freed asked.

“Of course not, it's a matter of principle,” Lucy objected. “And the worst part is that she keeps throwing it at me, you should throw her out. Oh, here she comes,” she moaned.

“Two great beers for the winners!” screamed the brunette as soon as she walked into the club. Freed found himself giggling as Lucy moaned over the lost money.

“I'm sorry Lucy, if it were someone else, I could consider the idea, but Cana makes me earn a lot” he said and the blonde moaned again but resigned she sat down in front of him, taking her head in her hands.

“At least offer me the beer for consolation,” she pleaded. Freed giggled again but took pity on her and stood up. Since Evergreen and Bickslow were already quite busy with all the people who had entered, he went after the counter and got by on his own.

“Lucy lost a bet?” Bickslow guessed as he placed sandwiches to warm.

“Apparently,” Freed replied filling his glass and glancing at the mass of people who had entered. “Who’s the winner?” he asked curiously.

“The blond next to Gajeel,” he replied, nodding his head to the table where the two boys were sitting. Freed followed his gaze and paused a moment longer to observe the handsome boy with broad shoulders and blond hair. He had never seen him there, and he knew all the boys who frequented that place. Well, that meant he'd have one more client, he had nothing to complain about.

As Bickslow walked away to the other side of the counter, Freed turned and took a small saucer filling it with chips. If he was going to console Lucy, he would do it right, and then he was starting to feel a bit hungry. Nobody disturbed him until he heard a low voice behind him.

“Hey, can you make me a beer?”

Freed turned surprised and noticed that it was the blond who had won the race. Now that he was closer, Freed could observe him better, and if already from a distance he had considered him handsome, now he couldn’t help but confirm his initial thoughts and also consider him fascinating. Piercing eyes of intense blue, a dark shirt that fit him perfectly and a smirk on his face. Normally Freed would have called Bickslow or Evergreen to serve him, but ultimately that guy would have been a new customer, better keep him good.

“What you want?” he asked with a slight smile. Laxus scanned the menu on the wall behind Freed and then picked one. Freed hurried to give it to him. “Winner of the day, right?” he asked and the blond smiled broadly, obviously pleased.

“I'll probably be the winner for the next few months,” he commented arrogantly and Freed found himself giggling as he put the glass down on the counter.

“Well, for today the bar offers the winner, but don't get used to it,” he told with an amused smile. The blonde laughed and thanked him, taking the glass and walking away from the counter to sit next to Gajeel. Eh, a new client was still a new client, and if in that case he was handsome, tall and with a nice ass, then Freed just had one more reason to hold him tight.

***

Laxus walked through the doors of what had become his favorite club and walked over to the counter and Bickslow. It had been a while now that he frequented that place, and as he had thought from the first time he had set foot in it, it was becoming his second home. It was normal for someone who loved motorcycles like him to be comfortable in such a place. The people who frequented it were all easygoing, the beer was good, he could ride the track and drool behind bikes that he could never afford.

Not that Laxus complained about his little gem, he loved his bike and if and when he decided to change it, his heart would cry, given how fond he was of it. But every now and then even rich people came to that place just to show off their vehicles and, well, gazing with the eyes was allowed.

He was in a particularly good mood that day. All thanks to a scratch card that he had taken to try his luck and which had made him win 700 jewels. It was little money since he would pay a dinner at most, but it was enough to put Laxus in a good mood. And since luck seemed to be running that day, he hoped to be able to ride a bike even though he knew the track was closing at that time.

“Beer?” Bickslow asked.

“Nah, I want to go for a ride on the track first,” Laxus said. Bickslow glanced at the clock.

“I'm sorry, I just can't leave you at this time,” he replied. Laxus snorted lightly. Well, he tried.

“Don't worry, get me a beer then”.

Bickslow gave it to him and Laxus sat down at the counter. Of all the guys who were there, he got along particularly well with that strange blue-haired bartender, despite the fact that he was a talkative type. Right from the start he had introduced him to the top bikers, and he had gossip about everyone. One of his favorites was Evergreen, the other bartender in the place. Apparently, the girl had some kind of friendly relationship with benefits with one of the bikers. Speaking of which, the aforementioned biker was right there chatting with the brunette while he ate a sandwich. Bickslow grinned amused, glancing at his friend, who in response glared at him.

“When can I sign up for the next race?” Laxus asked as he looked around the bar, but at that time there was hardly anyone. Lucy and Natsu were sitting dining at a small table in the corner, but luckily the pink-haired boy hadn't noticed him. He had this crazy mania to challenge anyone and after a while Laxus was annoyed at hearing his voice.

“Next week registration will be open” replied Bickslow “Are you sure you don't want to eat something?” he then asked. Laxus at that point decided to eat a nice sandwich there and also ordered some French fries. He spent an hour there having dinner and chatting with Bickslow. Since there were not too many customers, the bartender could keep him company. Once he finished Laxus paid and greeted him, nodded to Evergreen who was still arguing with her friend, and left the club.

He walked towards his bike but as he passed in front of the track something caught his attention. A boy was entering, and Laxus had already seen him. He was that long green-haired bartender who had offered him beer on his victory day. Looking at the vehicle he was taking into the track, Laxus noticed that he had a beautiful motorcycle, a lady motorcycle. Damn, he must have been rich. That was a bike that Laxus would jump through hoops, one of the latest releases. He didn't know if the reason he stopped was the handsome bartender, the beautiful bike or the fact that the boy was entering the track when clearly Bickslow had told him it was closed at that time, but Laxus did.

“Hey, is it an employee benefit to enter the track even at these times?” he asked. The boy turned to him clearly surprised and for a moment looked at him in silence blinking confused.

“Excuses me?” he asked. Laxus smiled slightly and took a couple of steps closer.

“Bickslow told me the track is closed at this time. I'd like to take a ride too,” he explained. The boy smiled slightly, finally understanding what he meant.

“Well, Bickslow actually told you right. The track is closed at this time, no one can enter” he said in a calm voice.

“Well, apparently you do,” he replied.

“It would be weird if I couldn't, since I'm the owner,” the boy chuckled and it was Laxus' time to be stunned. He must have had an eloquent expression on his face because the motorcyclist laughed slightly. “Freed, nice to meet you,” he said extending his hand. Laxus held his still a little stunned.

“Laxus,” he just said. He had thought he was just a bartender, on the other hand it was he who served him without batting an eye the first time he had been there. “Are you… really the owner of this place?” he asked still surprised. He was young for having opened such a place, probably a few years younger than him. How the hell had he done it?

“Yeah,” Freed replied simply. “Actually, I thought Bickslow with that wide mouth told you,” he added. Laxus recovered and laughed lightly.

“He told me life, death and miracles of everyone but he didn't say anything about... no, he actually said something, but I didn't know you were Freed,” he recalled at that point, frowning.

“I hope he didn't badmouth about me,” Freed joked.

“Nah,” Laxus replied with a smile. “He just complained that he wants a bigger television,” he said with a shrug. Freed rolled his eyes.

“I had to figure it out,” he commented. Laxus stopped for a moment to look at him, from the first time he had seen him he had found him attractive but he hadn't given it too much weight. There were many attractive men, yet now that he knew he was the boss of that place he felt a little in awe. Which didn't happen often. But knowing that such a young boy had opened such a place was strange, and he honestly didn't know what to think of that boy.

“So, you wanted to ride a motorcycle, right? How about a challenge?” Freed asked suddenly. Laxus frowned.

“Do you want to challenge now?” he asked fearing he hadn't understood correctly. He understood that at that time no one could enter the track. Well, Freed on the other hand was the boss, he could probably do what he wanted there.

“Of course, after how sure you were to win all the races, I really want to see if it was luck or skill” Freed instigated him with a smirk. Laxus partly out of pride, partly because he really wanted to ride the motorcycle, he found his grin again.

“Okay,” he said. Freed smiled in response and entered the track, while Laxus went to get his bike and then join him. Eh, luck that day turned just in favor of him.

***

Laxus stopped with the bike still enthusiastic about the ride he had done. Damn, it had been liberating and even challenging. Even if he had lost. He didn't expect it, but at least he could justify himself by saying it was only thanks to Freed's bike. And so he did when the boy brought up the victory.

“I would have been surprised, given the bike you ride,” he then commented. Freed raised an eyebrow with a pleased and amused grin on his face.

“Are you trying to find justifications for not admitting that you were beaten fairly?” he asked.

“At all. But your bike’s more powerful than mine, there's little to do,” Laxus said with a shrug. Freed shook his head in resignation.

“I should really race with another bike so as to prove otherwise,” he commented in a low voice, more to himself than to Laxus. The blond gave him a curious look, they hadn't talked much, only competed, and he was starting to be really curious to know more about him. Like he had the idea of opening such a place, a real paradise for Laxus. “Would you like to get a beer? Since you lost you owe me one,” Freed said. Laxus looked at him at the same time surprised but also a little amused.

“Really?” he asked him in a half laugh “Are you the boss of this place and Ishould buy you a beer?” he asked. Freed smiled.

“Well, considering that the last time I offered it to you, I'd say it's not that strange. But if you want, we can do another race and I’ll use a bike with the exact same power as yours, and if I win, you’ll offer me the whole dinner” he said.

“Only if you promise to give me a bike when I win,” Laxus said with a grin. Freed raised his eyebrows but smiled.

“Gone,” he replied and Laxus chuckled, following the boy to the bar. The two entered and went to the counter. Bickslow looked at them in surprise.

“Laxus, still here?” he asked.

“Yes, in the end I did the lap around the track as I wanted. He let me,” he said pointing to Freed.

“Don't tell me you made a challenge,” Bickslow commented as if he were expecting it, as if it were normal. Laxus would have lied to say that he was not left in a bit of bad. That meant that Freed often did it with other clients.

“Yes, and I won. Not that I'm surprised,” Freed said as he sat down in the chair. Bickslow rolled his eyes.

“Sooner or later someone will beat you and I'll make you remember it forever,” the bartender said. Freed smiled.

“The person who will beat me on my track has not yet been born,” he retorted arrogantly. Laxus would have smiled at his conceit, but something caught his attention.

“Wait, you’ve never been beaten by anyone?” he asked surprised.

“No,” Freed smiled smugly. “Since I opened this place, I’m the absolute champion, which means that I haven't lost a single race in four years,” he said.

“Yes, and you’re also unbearable,” Evergreen interjected annoyed.

“I agree,” Bickslow said. “And when somebody beats you, I'll throw a huge party and I'll put up posters with a giant picture of your pissed face and place it for all the bleachers.” Freed smiled.

“I doubt that will ever happen, but if you do, I'll make sure I fire you first,” he said. Laxus didn't know if he was joking or not, but Bickslow didn't seem in the least affected by the threat.

“I hoped you beat him,” the bartender told Laxus.

“Well, we still have to have a fair competition,” the blond pointed out. Freed nodded.

“Right. I just want to see how you justify yourself when I beat you,” he said.

“It won't be necessary, because you won't win.”

“We all cheer for you, Laxus,” Bickslow said and Evergreen nodded vigorously.

“If you win, we will offer you beer for a whole week,” said the serious girl.

“What great friends,” Freed said sarcastically. “So, can we have two beers or do we have to stay here and talk with nothing to drink?” he asked. Bickslow turned and prepared both glasses while Freed asked Ever for a toast to eat. In a short time Laxus found himself again with a glass under his nose and in the company of three boys who dragged him into a pleasant and fun conversation.

[cafeinthemoon]

I Know - Chapter 1

Title: I Know

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Kagami Uchiha x reader x Tobirama Senju

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 1410

Chapter (s): 1/?

Warning(s): some angst and reader trying to hold back tears and such

N. A.: Like I said when I posted this story on ao3, I’m just dumping it here. I had this idea long time ago but never worked properly on it. Still, I didn’t want to keep it as a draft anymore, so I’m posting it even thouh I have no idea when I’ll post chapter 2 (I have osme notes to it though)

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶

Chapter 1 - Running Water

You knew that you would have to leave early in the next morning and that the path waiting for you was long, which didn’t give you the luxury of not taking those night hours to sleep. Yet there you were, unable of losing your eyes. You just couldn’t forget about what happened that day, that single failure of yours that almost turned into your whole team’s failure if it wasn’t for your sensei. Tobirama just came in time and saved you all, but it didn’t make things better; it didn’t make you feel better.

You were so agitated that you had to leave your spot and go for a short walk to calm your thoughts. You’ve put your sandals, grabbed your water canteen and went to the river.

As you bent down to fill it, you paid attention to the noises of the night and thought it would be a miracle if you could fall in a deep sleep with all of them surrounding you: the wind blowing in the trees, the running water before you,  the small creatures sneaking over the grass and nocturne birds flying in the dark, living their lives under the cold moonlight, following their way, indifferent to your restlessness.

You moved the canteen away from the water and sat on the grass, but instead of drinking from it, you’ve put it aside and started to cry. Your chest was tight and hurting, and the first tears struggled to come out though your eyes were burning. You did your best to silence your sobbing covering your mouth; you didn’t want to wake your team mates: the deserved at least a good time of rest after what you did.

- You should go back to your spot and get some rest as well.

You startled when you heard his voice right behind you: you were so distracted that you didn’t hear his steps and couldn’t even tell if he used his Hiraishin – plus, you forgot you let him mark your canteen with his seal. You scolded yourself for being so stupid: if he was an enemy, you’d already be dead.

You had just one second to create an excuse, and you took it: you filled your hands with water and started washing your face with it.

- I just came here to fill my canteen – you said when you sensed your voice wasn’t going to crack – I’m going back to my place in a moment.

You wanted to stand up and pass through him and forget about this conversation, but your legs wouldn’t move; besides, you didn’t want to take the risk of showing him your face still swollen by your crying. However, if you were expecting Tobirama to just go back to his watching spot and leave you there, you were fully deceived: seeing that you won’t move, he approached the shore and bent down by your side.

- You should wash your face again and speak lower if you’re expecting to fool someone.

He said that in his usual tone, but when you turned to him you saw a growing smile softening his stern traits. It was funny that he used someone instead of me, despite him being the only awaken person around you. Because of course he knew you were going to leave your mattress to spend some time alone In the dark, thinking and rethinking something you couldn’t change. It was a necessity for you, and he aware of that. Since you started training with him, you made it clear that you were cursed with an excellent memory.

You shrugged and took the canteen, then sighed after drinking some of its content.

- I could try and waste my time pretending I’m not losing my sleep for what happened, but I’m tired even for that – you curved your lips in a smile, but at the first sign that your tears were coming back you let the smile fade – If you could help me and pretend I’m here just to get some water, I’d be glad, Tobirama-sensei.

He walked to the shore and took a moment standing at it, watching the river follow its curse, then sat by your side, one leg bent, the other stretched on the ground.

- Unfortunately for you, I am not proficient at pretending. I am sorry, y/n-san.

You kept quiet for a minute or two, only listening to the sounds of the night. It was strange yet comforting that you were able to share some silent moments with no fear that they could turn into something awkward. That has been a problem in all your interpersonal relationships, for you always had this tendency of hiding what doesn’t need to be hidden. With Tobirama, it started to change: no matter if you decided to speak or keep your mouth shut, he always knew what was on your mind. At first, it was scary, and you often found yourself irritated with how easy he could read you, but now you were glad for it.

It was like taking a burden off your shoulders.

When the conversation restarted, he was the first to talk.

- You know that there is nothing you can do about it now – he had his red eyes fixed on you, observing your reaction to what he was saying – Wasting this precious hours of sleep feeling sorry will not help you at all. If you do not want this situation to happen again, you have to prepare yourself first, and the best way to starting doing it is to take a rest.

During your first days training under him, such words would just have you even more depressed than you already were. However, as time passed and you knew him better, you came to understand that this was Tobirama’s way to motivate his students: as a man who prioritized actions and dismissed the excess of deliberations, he knew no way to do it but to tell them what could still be done.

Still, doing as he said was not easy, and you told that to him.

- I could go back to my spot and just lie there until morning if I wanted. But how could I try to sleep when I know I am the responsible for what happened? – you looked in his eyes – My team almost failed this mission because of me. You can come here and assure me that the hardest part is over, but not for me. I can control what I’m going to do from now on, but I can’t change how I feel. And I feel guilty.

He didn’t reply. Maybe he sensed you weren’t finished yet.

- You’re always saying we need to know ourselves in order to recognize our strengths and weaknesses. You must admit I’m kind of good at it, sensei – you smiled – Otherwise I would never be able to explain what I feel.

- I know – he nodded – Still, it is not enough to change what happened. Don’t you think is it wiser to concentrate on what do to about it?

You raised an eyebrow.

- Yeah, probably. But in this case, I don’t think it is to lay down and try to sleep. Instead, I prefer to be here and think until I can’t do it anymore.

Tobirama stood up

- Do as you wish. I am not going to bother you if you do not want to sleep, but do not complain if you feel tired tomorrow.

You raised your eyes to him and noticed a growing smile on his face. Wherever the continuation of that discussion would lead you, you got what you wanted: permission to stay where you were and comprehension.

- Just wave at me if you sense something strange in the woods, sensei, and I’ll wake the others.

Tobirama nodded and left, and you turned your attention to the water.

Of course, you always knew that discussing feelings was not among the many abilities of Tobirama Senju. But it was possible that this rule only applied to his own feelings, for he has been demonstrating a reasonable capacity of comprehending your emotions whenever you exposed them to him. It was strange, but you always felt safe to share your feelings with this man who seemed to be all brains and no heart. Maybe because you’ve already had enough heart for both of you while he had enough brains.

You’ve always wondered how he would reply if you said that to him.

[detectivecarlosreyes]

In Case of Emergency (Ch 3/10)

Ao3 | 1.5k | Eventual Buddie | Status: Incomplete 

Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter 

Chapter 3  - Overpasses, relationship advice and ......Minecraft? Buck was quiet after the incident on the overpass, Eddie makes the executive decision to check on him for his own peace of mind. An additional scene for 2x08: Buck, Actually

Waiting outside Buck’s apartment after knocking on the door with a six-pack under his arm, Eddie wondered if he was being overly concerned for no good reason. In the short amount of time knowing the man, Eddie had come to learn some of his quirks; one of which was his consistent commentary on their days off, whether it be text messages or his presence on social media.

After that call on the overpass, he’d gone quiet, contemplative even, and become radio silent since they went their separate ways at the end of their shift which carried over into their day off.

Being threatened by a gun was something Eddie knew all too well and understood how compartmentalise such an event from his time overseas, but he knew that wasn’t the case for most if not all civilians. That kind of experience could be difficult for anyone to shrug off, and he figured that was the reason for Buck’s silence.

So now, here he was, coming to check on the man who he now considered a friend just as much as he was a co-worker, except now he was second-guessing if they were even at the level of friendship where it wouldn’t be considered odd for him to be checking up on him. They haven’t known each other for that long, and it would make more sense for someone else in the team to check on him having known him longer.

Knowing the man should be home after seeing his jeep parked outside, Eddie knocked on the door a second time and called Buck’s name after getting no response from inside. He sighed, tipping his head back in exasperation feeling ridiculous over his unease, like he was overreacting, which he felt like he was.

He knocked one last time and when he still heard nothing from the other side of the door, stepped back, pulling his keys out of his pocket to get to his phone to call the unresponsive man, only pausing in his actions when the blue marked key captured his attention.

Forgoing the call, he decided to make use of the key instead and let himself in, calling out to Buck once again. He peered around taking in the space, easily finding him in the living room on the couch with his back to Eddie, play what looked to be Minecraft?

It’s only when he looked more closely, could Eddie see the reason why Buck didn’t answer the door. He was wearing what seemed to be noise cancelling headphone and was completely unaware that there was anyone else in the apartment with him.

Setting the beer down on the dining table, Eddie moved to stand behind Buck and lifted one of the earpieces from Buck’s ear, and said quietly, “Someone could rob you right now and you wouldn’t even know it.”

He pursed his lips in amusement when Buck visibly jumped, dropping his controller on the floor in surprise.

“Jesus Eddie!”  Buck hissed as he clutched dramatically at his chest, turning to look up at him as he slipped the headphones from his head, “What the hell? Give a guy a heart attack why don’t you!”

Eddie put up his hands in surrender, not feeling in the least bit guilty taking the opportunity to scare Buck, “I knocked and called your name 3 times.”

Buck huffed as he picked up the controller and set it down on the coffee table, “What are you doing here man?” he asked, half-turning around on the couch to look at him properly.

Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling silly seeing now that Buck seemed perfectly fine. “I came to check on you.”

Seeing the confusion written on Buck’s face, he elaborated “You’ve been quiet since that call at the overpass, thought you might like someone to talk to.”

Buck lit up in understanding and shook his head, “I’m alright, just had a lot on my mind is all.”

Eddie moved back to the table and pulled out two of the beers, proffering one to Buck, “Did you want to talk about it? I mean- it’s not every day you have a gun pointed at you.”

“Oh, that?” Buck waved his hand dismissively with a shrug before extending it out over the back of the couch towards Eddie, gesturing for the beer, “That’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with a gun, although it was the first loaded one.”

Eddie pressed the bottle into his hand and took the cap off his own as he moved to sit in the nearby armchair, curiosity piqued “It’s not?”

Twisting the top off his beer, Buck took a swig before answering, “Weapons training and simulations was part of Navy SEAL training. I guess it’s something I got used to.”

Eddie leaned forward, feeling both surprised and impressed over this revelation. “You trained in the SEALs? Wouldn’t have pegged you for something like that.”

“Yep,” Buck answered casually, popping the p as he settled back into the couch cushions, sling an arm across the back, “I didn’t finish though, figured out after a while that it wasn’t for me.”

The conversation lulled for a moment as Eddie mulled over this newfound knowledge, realising that he actually knew very little about Buck. And from what he’s slowly discovering, there was a lot more to the man than meets the eye, making him want very much to get to know this surprisingly enigmatic man before him.

It’s Buck that eventually broke the silence, “We talked about relationships, about not wanting to be ignored anymore.”

It took Eddie a moment to understand what Buck was talking about. “You and Lola? The lady on the bridge?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’ve been quiet, our talk just got me thinking about everything with Abby.”

“Your invisible girlfriend.” Said Eddie jokingly, hoping to ease the tension in Buck’s shoulders and at least get a smile to Buck’s face. He felt somewhat triumphant when Buck chuckled at the dig.

“She might as well be a ghost at this point.” He said with a sigh, “I don’t know, man. I’ve just been thinking how long is too long to wait for someone when you live in their apartment, but you barely even talk with them anymore.”

“I’m probably not the best one to talk to about relationships at the moment but let me ask you two questions. Do you love her as much as you did when she was still here? Or is it now that you love the idea of her?”

He watched as Buck considered the questions, knowing that it could difficult to distinguish between the two of them.

“You don’t have to know right this second, but just think about it. If it’s the latter, then it might be time to move on. From what you’ve said about her, she sounds like she's happy, just don’t forget that you deserve to be happy too even if that means it’s time to let go.”

“Yeah, I guess you might be right.”  Buck eventually uttered after a long pause, scrubbing at his face

“Of course, I am, would've thought by now you'd have figured out that I’m always right.” Remarked Eddie light-heartedly.

‘Sure, you are Eddie.” Buck responded with a smirk and a shake of his head as he finished off what was left of his beer before setting it down beside the controller, reminding Eddie of what Buck was playing when he came barging in.

“So... Minecraft?” He asked, changing the subject as he indicated towards the idling screen.

“Yeah, yeah I know, it’s a kid’s game,” Buck answered rolling his eyes in good humour, “But it’s surprisingly relaxing to just chill with some music and build stuff.”

“Hey, you do you man,” Eddie put his hands up, doing his best to look non-judgmental, “just please tell me you have some competitive games too.”

“I do! I swear, there’s just not many people I know who would be interested in playing.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that won’t we…” Eddie looked down at his watch, “…just not today. I should head off, got to pick Chris up from school.”

Buck stood up with him and they both made their way to the door, “Oh yeah of course man. But yeah we should totally do that sometime, and you know Christopher is always welcome too.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Eddie opened the door and made a move to leave when Buck’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey, Eds.” Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to find Buck awkwardly tapping a knuckle to the door frame. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

“No worries Buck, what are friends for. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at work.”

It may not have been an emergency reason to use the key like it was intended for, but it was well worth the trip to Eddie, especially when he left the apartment with the understanding that he just got to see a side Buck that he had a feeling that few people get to meet having only seen the persona that Buck let them see and now more than he would have expected, he would very much like to get to know this Buck that he's met today even more.

[seijuurouxryuu]

apart as we may, i still feel you here

Title: apart as we may, i still feel you here Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Fon/ Reborn; brief Byakuran/Rokudo Mukuro Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Alpha/Beta/Omega AU | Mental Bond/Mental Link Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warning

Day 8: Earth/Flameless Day

Fon was a beta through and through despite looking like an alpha. He, in his lithe yet muscular body, had always been mistaken as an alpha throughout his years since childhood. His parents expected him to be an alpha, his grandparents expected him to be an alpha, heck even his neighbours expected him to be an alpha.

He never felt like an alpha though, not even before he was classified as a beta. He just felt normal. Like a normal person with blood flowing through his veins.

So no, he never identified himself as anything else but a human--a beta.

AO3

Being a beta wasn't hard; you wouldn't have to undergo a rut like an alpha would, or a heat like an omega would regularly. It was normal, as normal as it can be.

But it can be hard for a beta to survive in the society full of dominance by Alphas and Omega.

 Fon was a beta through and through despite looking like an alpha. He, in his lithe yet muscular body, had always been mistaken as an alpha throughout his years since childhood. His parents expected him to be an alpha, his grandparents expected him to be an alpha, heck even his neighbours expected him to be an alpha.

 He never felt like an alpha though, not even before he was classified as a beta. He just felt normal. Like a normal person with blood flowing through his veins.

 So no, he never identified himself as anything else but a human--a beta.

 He sighed as he fixed his face mask properly, hat pulled down. People were staring at him again because of his fit and tall stature. He wasn't bragging or anything, but gene was really a joke. He, a beta, had the height and fitness of an alpha, all gained from his hard work and training. And yet a lot of people first thought it was because he was an alpha when he was anything but.

 Maybe he should just put up a sign saying 'I'm a beta' to get people off his back. (A lot of them maybe came for his figure, but 99% of them came because the thought he was an alpha.)

 He didn't have any discrimination against alphas, omegas or even betas like some betas would have complexes about it, he just hated how people thought all the fruit of his hard works were all because of his secondary gender. And they even got it wrong. It was fucking hilarious, if you ask him. And frustrating. God-fucking-damn frustrating.

 Shaking his head, Fon pushed away all the irritation to the back of his mind. He had work to do, even if said work annoys him even further. Tapping his card on the sensor, he pulled the door open, making a beeline to the office as he nodded to the passing students. He was a history lecturer in this... Fancy university that should be sued for capitalism. Honestly, too much money was used on advertisement and not enough was supplied to improve facilities for the students and lecturers. Really, capitalists should die.

 Fon sighed in relief once he safely made it to his office without anyone stopping him. However, when he stepped foot into it, he immediately regretted it.

 The smell of an alpha and omega pheromones was so thick he felt nauseous.

 Thank god for his mask.

 He immediately backed out and pinched the bridge of his nose. Mukuro and Byakuran were at it again. He shared the same office with them for a few years now, and while they were good (questionable) colleagues, god forbid they flirt in front of Fon. They had been going at it since Mukuro started working and Byakuran kept trying to seduce him. Fon rooted for them, but fuck if he had to suffer another day smelling their pheromones, he would lock them up in a room for a week.

 Or just outright end them, whichever comes first.

 He huffed. At least they finally got together. Hopefully they'd learn some decency soon.

 Maybe they won't.

 Fon so kindly locked up the room and messaged Byakuran.

 "I helped you lock the office door. You owe me one :)"

 Fon pulled out his phone to look at the time and paused. No mails, that was normal. He smiled at the background image he had set, stress dissipating. He missed his beloved, even if he had just left home about... An hour ago. An hour too long actually.

 A loud moan reverberated out from the office.

 Fon's smile was gone and he wanted nothing more than snap someone's dick in half.

 He held himself back and did some breathing exercise, turning around and heading straight to the lecture halls. He could tell, it was going to be a damned long day.

 .

 For once, his lectures were quiet. Usually, his students would be engaging, enthusiastically answer his questions and pull him into debates about whether a historical figure was stupid or /stupid/. However, aside from timidly answering him when prompted, none of them spoke much. He would have asked if they were alright, but he wasn't in the mood so it was good news for him.

 Thankfully, with his running short fuse, it was finally his last class of the day. Eager to end it and return home to his beloved, he was even more scary with his smile that said 'Don't Ask'.

 Suddenly, he smelled blood. It wasn't his blood, of course, and neither it was his students’ blood. No, it was more of a psychological thing.

 Fon's mouth snapped shut as he stared blankly into space.

 He 'heard' his beloved grumbles and whimpers.

 When he came back to reality, he was already running out of campus and to his car, books and other stuffs left behind with a quick instructions to the TA, which he didn't even remember what it was.

 In record time, he was in his car and driving home.

 'Love?' He called out in his mind. 'Are you alright?'

 He could still smell blood, but it was faint now. He felt his spouse tensing at the other end of their bond before hearing a sigh.

 'Did you leave.' A statement rather than question.

 Fon stayed quiet.

 'I'm fine.'

 'I'll arrive in 5.'

 'Go back to work, Fon.'

 'No.'

 Another sigh. '... Pick up coffee for me.'

 Fon smiled and made a minute detour.

 .

 When Fon arrived home, he was attacked by an onslaught of pheromones. The one and only he loved and would react to despite being a beta. Breathing in deeply, all the crankiness he brewed throughout the day disappeared without a trace. "I'm home." He announced loudly, toeing off his shoes and rushed in, not even bothered to arrange it properly. It was fine, he had more important thing to attend to.

 Putting the coffee on the coffee table, he looked around and found that his love was nowhere to be found. He followed the trial of smell back to their bedroom. The door was halfway closed, leaving a glimpse of who was inside and their state. Fon took it all in with a fond smile.

 Knocking gently on the door, he softly asked, "Can I come in?"

 He had to stop himself from laughing when a head of messy hair popped out from the neat nest made of their unwashed laundry, cushions, bolsters and pillows. Even the Flareon and Umbreon plushies they had were not spared. It was so cute.

 Reborn gave him a look and grunted. "Yes. Take off your clothes and give me."

 Fon chuckled, walked in and started stripping. He stood outside the nest, handing his clothes for Reborn to examine. He patiently waited for the results outside of the nest, smiling as he watched Reborn scrunitize his clothes.

 "Why does it smell like that marshmallow bastard?" Reborn growled and Fon couldn't help but shuddered. He loved how Reborn cusses.

 "He and Mukuro, well, you know."

 Reborn scoffed. "Should've known that that two horny asses couldn't keep their pants on." He snarked and stuffed those clothes under the pile to erase and replace the smell with his scent. He then turned and squinted at Fon again.

 "Bend down" Fon obediently did as ordered, careful not to overstep the boundaries and bared his neck for Reborn. Reborn leaned in and sniffed purring in possessive delight that no other scent stuck to his neck. In fact, Fon had wiped down his neck with wet wipes when he was buying coffee but Reborn didn't need to know lest he took it differently. (He knew no one touched his neck, not that anyone dared to, but just in case someone else's scent stuck to him.)

 Reborn nosed his neck once and nipped at the permanent mark he made on Fon, causing the latter to shudder again. There was another purr, but it came from Fon himself. Fon loved how Reborn could take ownership of him even if he couldn't do it to Reborn. He loved how he always bit that mark, lapping lovingly at it and kissing them. He loved seeing it in the mirror, loved touching it and feeling it throb faintly.

 He loved just the same that he could mark Reborn again and again since he could only mark temporarily, loved biting into the skin, tasting the blood and Reborn keening at the bites. Fon loved everything about being a beta who fell for a possessive omega.

 Reborn's eyes were golden black when he pulled back, glinting. He shuffled back slightly and let Fon, who was in nothing but his boxers, join him in his nest. "Come in." He said, giving consent to his loved.

 Fon's eyes shone and he carefully stepped over the boundaries, taking care not to accidentally kick down the walls of clothes. He settled in besides Reborn and sighed in relief at the lovely pheromones that surrounded him, making him all relaxed and safe.

 Reborn quickly attached to him burying his face onto the crook of his shoulders, purring louder. Fon wrapped his arms around him and turned slightly to kiss his forehead, joining him in purring. He suddenly laughed. "I think I know why I was so cranky today."

 Reborn made a questioning sound, all but melting into his arms. "Your heat affected me. I could feel it through our bond."

 Reborn bit him. "Sucks to be you, then. I was busy nesting and you had to be away."

 Fon whined, nuzzling against him as he tightened his hold around him. "I thought it is tomorrow, that was why I planned to settle my leaves today."

 "Well, it came early."

 Fon hummed. "I'm glad it came early. I can keep you company longer." He said lowly into Reborn's ears. "Speaking of which, why did I smell your blood just now?"

 He felt Reborn tensing against him and immediately drew comforting patterns on his back, purring louder to comfort him. "I don't mean anything, I'm just a little worried..."

 Reborn slowly relaxed as Fon patiently waited for his answers without rushing him. In fact, if Reborn didn't want to speak of it, he wouldn't force him to say either. "... I accidentally broke a nail."

 A sharp scratch on his chest made Fon hissed softly. He looked down and grabbed the hand, pulling it up to see the broken nail. It was broken, yes, but it wasn't serious thankfully. However, it hurt Fon's heart to see the redness at the edge, feeling the pain even though it wasn't his wound.

 He kissed the finger and cooed. "Oh, baby. It must've been painful." He kissed again.

 Reborn snorted, but by the purrs he sounded happy that Fon was worried about him. "It's nothing. I can take more than this, you know that."

 Fon nodded, rubbing and cuddling him closer. "Uhum, I know. You're the strongest person I ever know, and I'm so happy that you're mine. You worked so hard and surpassed everyone's expectation. You proved everyone wrong about how you aren't limited to anything just because you're an omega, and I'm so proud of you. I love you, Reborn. I love you so, so much." He gave him a few kisses in the mouth before Reborn hummed into his lips and opened his mouth.

 "Hmn, love you too. You aren't an alpha, but you are so much better than one. You don't limit yourself even if you're a beta too, and I'm proud of you too. In fact, I'm so proud that you don't depreciate yourself just because of that." Reborn said into his mouth, slow as they made out.

 Fon laughed and kissed him harder, heart swelling in happiness and love. Reborn bit his lips for laughing but was chuckling himself too.

 "Sleep, babe. I'm sleepy." Reborn nudged his forehead against Fon's. "We can do other things when we wake up."

 Fon agreed, kissing his nose and eyelids. "Okay, sweet dreams, love."

  Reborn purred.

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

A/N: LAST DAY!!! THANK YOU TO THE MODS OF KHR RAREPAIR WEEK FOR THEIR HARD WORK AND THANKS TO YOU GUYS FOR READING MY STORIES

I missed a day for this year's event, but still!! I managed to do 7!!! Which was beyond my expectation since I was ded because of finals, which clashed with the beginning of this event.

Onto the story! Basically Alphas and Omegas can make permanent mark on anyone else, while Beta can only do temporary ones. I just love the concept of nesting so when I saw Day 8's theme I went bLING

I don't like how some omegaverse stories I have written has this... thing with A and O being the rarest and then most treasured. I like it better if regardless of being A, O or B, everyone is of the same, equal and fair. Of course, some of the laws should cater more for A and O since they have ruts and heats but still? No discrimination.

Although, the discrepancy here is that most O and B still prefers A because, well, genes.

But that's just the background I thought up of; there's no need for that since all you need to know is that Reborn NESTED and Fon LOVED HIM.

Cranky Fon is lovely Fon :DDDD

anyways THANKS FOR READING AGAIN! HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED MY ENTRIES THIS YEAR!!! SEE YOU NEXT TIME

[I apologize for any grammar, spellings, etc. etc. mistakes]

[hockey-prose]

Bitty Breaks the Internet

Summary: The AC in Jack and Bitty’s apartment is broken. So what better way to beat the heat than go out on the water? Bitty wears a new swimsuit, Jack takes his picture, and the picture ends up online. (Cross posted to AO3.)

It all started with that blasted weather. Simply put, it was stifling. Bitty was used to dry Southern summers and slight humidity. But he wasn’t prepared for this years incredibly humid Eastern summer. It made it worse that the AC in his and Jack’s apartment was broken and wouldn’t be fixed until next week.

So, while the two of them were boiling in their apartment, Bitty got a text from his mama.

Mama: Dicky, why don’t y’all just rent a boat and stay near the water for a few days?

That’s a great idea! Thanks Mama!

“Jack, honey,” Bitty said, adopting his extra thick accent. He knew it meant Jack would give him anything he wanted because he was sweet on his Southern side.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

Bitty sat up, allowing the washcloth soaked in ice water to fall to his lap. He looked to his fiancé across the couch from him. It was so hot that the only parts of them that had been touching were their feet and ankles. There were at least 10 fans angled towards them.

“How about we rent a boat for the weekend? It’s the off season for you, and my deadline isn’t until next week.”

Jack lowered his phone, revealing the hair plastered to his forehead. Bitty’s heart squeezed with love for his man.

“I don’t know how to drive a boat.”

Bitty smacked Jack gently on the thigh.

“I do, honey! I spent I don’t know how many hours on boats in Georgia. Good Lord, the sunburns I’ve gotten. The point is that I know how to drive and I could teach you.”

“Do we want to invite other people or just have it be us?”

Bitty thought. As much as he loved every one of their shared friends, it would be nice to be just the two of them. Quiet.

“I think just us for this first time would be nice. Just the two of us?”

Bitty heaved himself forward to slide between Jack’s open legs. Jack’s eyes widened, but he covered Bitty’s hands where he’d placed them on his chest. Jack hummed.

“I like the sound of that. Want me to see if I can find any boat rental places?”

“How about we look together, huh handsome?”

The week came and went, and on Friday afternoon, Jack and Bitty took to the water at Providence Marina. Turns out, Marty had a boat docked there and gave Jack the keys to use it. The cooler that was clutched in each of their hands contained beer, soda, chips, sandwich fixings, fruit, and lemon blueberry mini pies.

After everything had been situated on the boat, and they’d had an awkward conversation with one of Marty’s dock neighbors, Bitty pulled them out to sea. They didn’t go very far, just out of view of the docks, and dropped the anchor.

Bitty turned on his portable speaker to some soft pop music, stripped off his clothes, and began making house on the boat. He could hear Jack snapping pictures with his camera. A quick look revealed that the subject was him.

“Well, now, Mr. Zimmermann. Who said you could take pictures of me just before I was about to fix you a sandwich,” Bitty sassed, planting his hands on his hips.

Jack took the camera away from his face, a love struck smile on his lips. He was also shirtless, and had laid himself on the deck of the boat to get a good angle.

“Sorry, Bits, you’re just so gorgeous I couldn’t help it. That swim suit is definitely doing you a favor.”

Bitty felt his cheeks warm, and a smile cross his own mouth. He’d bought the suit as soon as the boat was secured. It was almost a Speedo with just a bit more length. The print on them was white with light and dark blue sail boats.

“Oh hush now.”

A click.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann!”

The afternoon passed with Bitty alternating between sunning himself on the deck and taking dips in the water. Jack kept mostly on the boat, occasionally dipping his legs in when Bitty swam. By the time they pulled into the dock, his shoulders were bright pink and he winced when he lifted the cooler.

“I told you to put on some more sunscreen, honey. There’s some aloe at home, but it’s gonna take more than that.”

“Bits, bud, don’t feel too bad. I’ll wear sunscreen tomorrow and bring a shirt too.”

“You still want to go out tomorrow?”

The couple buckled themselves into Jack’s car.

“Of course, Bits. You looked like you were loving it out there. As long as it makes you happy.”

Bitty leaned across the center console and planted a kiss on the underside of Jack’s jaw.

“You’re so sweet, honey. As long as you’re up for it.”

By the end of the weekend, Jack had taken over 100 pictures. At least 50 of them were Bitty. There was a handful of scenery, other boats and the ocean. And then a few were of the two of them. One for each day. They had gotten progressively pinker as the days went on.

Sunday night, the couple went to a nice seafood just off the water before heading home to fall into bed for a restful night sleep.

Wednesday rolled around quietly, and Bitty woke to about a thousand notifications on his phone. Some were texts. Some were notifications on Twitter. By far the most notifications came from Instagram. Even though he’d made an account, Bitty barely posted to Instagram except to promote his cookbook.

Deciding to look at the texts first, he was greeted with no context chirps from his Samwell friends. All of them were about him in a swimsuit?

What?

Bitty continued to flick through his messages. There were individual messages from everyone on his former team, but also in the big “Haus 4.0” group chat.

Holster (Adam Birkholtz): dUDE BITTY MY GOD HOW HAVE YOU STAYED SO HOT????

Ransom (Justin Oluransi): Jack’s lucky that nobody saw your ass or the internet would be broken brah

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bro, bitty DID break the internet have you seen his insta and twitter??

Shitty (BS Knight): I swear on the gods above if Bitty was not single and I was not straight, I would sweep him off his feet

Nursey (Derek Nurse): chill. was truly a kim k moment for Bitty

Dex (Will Pointdexter): Love the confidence my dude. Was really a monumental picture tbh

Honey 💞: Can we not talk about Bitty like a piece of meat?

ERB: What on earth are y’all talking about?

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bits, you gotta check jacks insta first before you come in here and ask questions

So that’s exactly what Bitty did. Goodness knows where Jack was because he was not currently in bed with him. The last text he sent was at 8:45 am and it was now 9.

Instagram proved to be a tough navigator. Not because Bitty was media illiterate, but because the sheer amount of new followers he got prevented the app from running properly. After three app crashes, Bitty grew frustrated. He logged out of his public account and into his private one.

Once on his smaller scale Instagram, he searched Jack’s name. The most recent post was of their weekend relaxation trip. It was one of those collections of images. The first three were of the ocean, some seagulls, and the view from the front of Marty’s ship. The next six were of Bitty and Jack in various stages of couple poses. Somehow Jack had even managed to capture Bitty feeding him some grapes. But the last image was what set a fire under Bitty.

The picture was of that first day. Bitty was wearing his, now scandalous in his eyes, swim suit. His sunglasses were perched on the edge of his nose. You could see the heat he held in his eyes for Jack, who had been behind the camera. Admittedly, Bitty had not been thinking of his body image at the time of wearing that swimsuit. But now that he had attracted so much attention to himself due to his body, he figured a once over couldn’t hurt.

The Bitty in the picture had a firm stomach, no defined abs to speak of. What was the need for them? He was perfectly healthy. The cut of the swimsuit allowed the camera to see the faint lines that traveled down from Bitty’s hips past the line of his swimsuit. His hair was shining in the sun. The skin of the Bitty in the picture looked a little pale, but he had no qualms otherwise.

He looked good.

Putting the praise of his body aside, Bitty knew he needed to find Jack.

ERB: Thank y’all for your kind words. It means the world to me. Now I have to find Jack and have a word with him

Shitty (BS Knight): AAH SHIT JACKS IN TROUBLE WITH BITTY AHAHAHAHA

Lardo (Larissa Duan): pls don’t kill jack

Bitty locked his phone and went out into the living room. No Jack. The entire open concept apartment was empty. Bitty knew the bathrooms and home office were empty. The doors always stayed open unless there was someone in there.

As Bitty pondered how to find his fiancé, the door unlocked with a small click. Jack emerged with several bags of groceries in hand. Bitty assumed position with his fists on his hips, but this time around, it was not nearly as tempting.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann.”

“Bits! Uh, hey.”

Bitty tapped a foot on the floor.

“Euh, I didn’t know that post would go viral. I tried to soften the blow by bringing home everything you’d need to stress bake.”

Bitty came forward, taking the bags from Jack and going to the kitchen.

“Crisse,” Jack muttered before following Bitty.

“Bittle? I’m really sorry.”

“I know,” Bitty replied, his tone light. “I’m not mad, Jack. I only wish you’d told me you were going to post that where my mother could see it.”

Jack made a groan of displeasure as he approached Bitty from behind. Firm, warm hands pressed themselves into Bitty’s hips.

“Sorry, Bits.”

“Stop apologizing, honey! I’m just gonna have to field a call from my mama. I don’t think this’ll be worse than the cup, but I guarantee my family will chirp her for the rest of time.”

Jack buried his nose in the crook between Bitty’s neck and shoulder.

“George said the PR was good. We didn’t really need any more positive additions, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Well I certainly hope not,” Bitty said with a scoff. “You didn’t post a picture of me nearly naked on the Internet for nothing!”

Jack laughed, and Bitty followed not long after. Together the couple baked breakfast pastries and Bitty got his own revenge.

Jack’s picture was also shirtless, but he was wearing his sweatpants reserved for lounging at home. His arms and stomach were so much more than Bitty’s. He had a workout routine to keep up with.

Once again, the Internet broke because of Eric Richard Bittle.

[lilyvandersteen]

The Christmas Guest Chapter 7

Author’s Note: Apparently, when I’m suffering from insomnia, I write very sleepy chapters, where Klaine take naps and drift off at a moment’s notice. Wishful thinking on my part, but I’m glad Klaine at least are getting all the sleep they need. So, enjoy some pillow talk and sleepy cuddles, I guess :-)

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, the Interlude and Chapter 6 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 7: Nothing Better than the Real Thing

Kurt felt a soft warm hand caress his face and trace the contour of his body, and slowly stirred awake.

It was Blaine. Of course it was Blaine, they had been talking, but why was it so dark outside?

His muddled brain refused to work properly, but he did realize they’d have to get downstairs as soon as possible or his dad would think… Ugh, he didn’t want him to think anything like that ever.

He had meant to help Carole make dinner, but it was already done. His stepmom didn’t seem to mind, though, telling him a snowball fight and a nap after would cure that cold of his in a jiffy. And yes, he hadn’t been coughing or sniffling half as much as the day before, that was definitely true. But he’d been exhausted from the emotion more than the exercise that came before.

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who gave him a look that felt like a hug. A look that said, “Your secrets are safe with me”, and Kurt believed that was true.

As soon as they were all seated at the table, Blaine slipped his hand in Kurt’s and squeezed it lightly, the message of support more than clear, and Kurt sent him a grateful smile.

He didn’t fully cheer up until after dinner, when he got an invitation to Rachel’s New Year’s Eve party, but Finn nipped his joy about seeing his friends again in the bud by pointing out they’d all want to know everything about Blaine and how he and Kurt met.

Well. That was certainly true.

He saw Blaine’s eyes widen, his hands tremble and his color fade.

Oh, sweetie… I’ll make sure to keep you close at the party. I can bluff myself out of this. I’m good at improv. You have nothing to worry about.

But Blaine was truly rattled, and insisted on getting their story straight, so though it was still early, they both pleaded exhaustion and announced they were going to bed.

Burt fixed them with a stare. “If I let you sleep in the same bed, can I count on you behaving yourselves? No shenanigans!”

Blaine swallowed and nodded. “You have my word, sir… uhm, Burt.”

“Kurt?”

“Ugh, you’re embarrassing, Dad. But yes, I promise.”

Carole squeezed Kurt’s shoulder affectionately. “You do look beat. And no wonder, you’re still fighting against a cold. Yes, go to bed, and I’ll tell Finn to let you sleep in tomorrow. Do you need more lozenges for your throat?”

“No, I just drank about a gallon of chamomile tea, and my throat feels okay. Thanks, though. And goodnight.”

They escaped without any more comments from Burt, and Kurt slipped into his en-suite to shower and change into his pajamas, telling Blaine he could use the main bathroom in the meantime.

Sure enough, when he emerged in his bedroom again after his skincare regimen, Blaine was sitting on the bed, wearing neatly pressed pajamas and smelling like raspberries and aftershave. He was also on the verge of a panic attack, it seemed, so Kurt hastened to hug him and whisper “It will be okay.”

“Finn said…”

“I know what he said, and I’m sorry he got you so wound up. My friends are nosy, yes, but I can deal with them. We can deal with them. You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you the whole night through, and when they’re too annoying, I’ll tell them to back off.”

Blaine didn’t look reassured. “I’d feel better if… If we had a story to tell them. About how we met.”

“All right, honey. Do you mind if I get under the duvet? I’m a bit cold.”

They both got under the covers, and Blaine wriggled until he was back in Kurt’s arms, which made Kurt smile and his heart beat a bit faster.

“So… We met at the coffee shop where you work?” Kurt suggested. “And I liked the bowtie you were wearing and complimented you on it. Oh, that is… If you… Do you wear bowties while working?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“There you go! And you smiled at me, and I was smitten at once. You have such a lovely smile.”

“Thank you.”

Kurt continued, “So I kept coming back to your coffeeshop… Where is it, in fact? Somewhere near my school or where I live, I hope.”

“Oh, it’s near the Washington Square Park. It’s called Stumptown Coffee Roasters.”

Kurt perked up. “I’ve been there! They have the best chai lattes, I love those.”

“It’s the spices,” Blaine explained. “We make our own blend.”

“Well, brilliant. I’ve raved to Rachel about those chai lattes, so now I can tell her it wasn’t just for the drinks I went to that coffeeshop.”

“Okay. So then… what happened?”

“Hmm… We ran into each other somewhere outside the coffeeshop, and… You saved me and my quiff from a sudden rain squall by letting me shelter under your umbrella. I was so grateful I asked you out on the spot, and you said yes.”

“Oh, I like that,” said Blaine. “You’re really good at this.”

“Hours and hours of practice daydreaming. Might as well put it to good use for once.”

“So… when did this happen, exactly?” Blaine wanted to know.

“Oh, just a few weeks ago. We’ve only gone on one date so far, because you’re busy, and I’m busy. But then I went to the coffeeshop one last time before I’d be heading home to Ohio, and we got talking, as we always do, and you mentioned being all alone for Christmas, and I invited you home with me. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

Blaine laughed. “Well, that’s true enough!”

Kurt hummed in assent, and carded his fingers through Blaine’s curls, gently massaging his head. “I can be impulsive, yes. But inviting you is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I don’t regret it one bit.”

“Me neither.”

“Do you think we could…?”

“Keep in touch once we’re back in New York? Yes. Yes, please.”

Kurt was a bit taken aback by Blaine’s quick reaction. He’d meant to ask Blaine out on a date, but this sounded like he was being friend-zoned.

Oh. Not quite on the same wavelength, then.

Kurt took his hands away from Blaine’s hair, fake yawned and announced that he was about to fall asleep. He turned onto his side, said “Goodnight” and focused on making his breathing soft and slow and regular.

Next to him, he heard Blaine whisper “Goodnight, Kurt” and turn onto his side as well, taking away his body heat and making Kurt shiver a bit.

“Are you still cold?” Blaine asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Blaine shuffled closer and spooned Kurt, his presence warm and comforting, and at once Kurt felt a million times sleepier.

“Much better than a boyfriend pillow,” Kurt mumbled, tugging Blaine’s arm snugly around him.

Blaine laughed. “Nothing better than the real thing, right?”

Kurt didn’t answer. Seeing as they were only fake dating, there was no real thing. Or was there? Ugh, why had he made such a mess of things and allowed himself to catch feelings?

Behind him, he heard Blaine say “Sweet dreams”, and he felt a slight fleeting pressure on his neck. Had Blaine just kissed him?

Kurt suppressed a sigh. This was getting more and more confusing, but he hoped it would sort itself out in the end. In the meantime, he was going to imagine this was really his boyfriend spooning him in bed and keeping him toasty warm. It felt like heaven, and he was going to enjoy the experience to the fullest.

I could get used to this…

[cynicalrainbows]

An incredibly late happy birthday fic for the very lovely and very talented @shut-up-heather-d, who has been patiently waiting for this for weeks. After you read this, you should also take yourself to AO3 to read her OWN writing too, because it’s really excellent.

But here’s some fluff in the meantime. The request was for Kitty being taken care of by Catalina and Jane, and Catalina being the stricter ‘parent’.

‘I’m dying-’

Kitty rolls dramatically onto her stomach and buries her face in the couch cushion, displacing Cathy (who falls off the couch with a squeak and retreats hastily to the kitchen for paper towels to mop up the spilled coffee from her shirt).

‘You’re not dying Kit.’

Kitty lifts up her flushed face and tries to muster up the energy to glare at Catalina.

‘I AM.’

Catalina raises an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘You’re not dying, you have cramps. And if you’d just take the aspirin-’

‘But it tastes HORRIBLE-’

‘So you keep saying.’

Kitty flops back down with another groan and Catalina carries on tidying up.

‘I hate today, I’m really stressed and I have to make that phone call to the bank, on top of everything-’

Catalina sighs. She isn’t really sure how to help and she doesn’t like it- it feels like Kitty’s blaming her for her not being able to fix it. Of course, she knows this isn’t Kitty’s fault at all, just her own stupid brain but still…

Even so, she’ll do the best she can, even if advice IS all she can do.

‘Well, maybe if you go and get it done rather than putting it off….and you know it’s going to hurt until you take some painkiller, so you’re only hurting yourself by putting that off too.’

There. Sensible and hopefully enough to spur Kitty into action.

Kitty though just gives her a slightly wounded look and rolls onto her side.

After a while, the silence stretches out a little too long. She returns to the couch.

‘Kit?’

‘Mmm?’

Kitty doesn’t move from where her head is buried in the cushions- Catalina gently tucks a few locks of hair back behind her ear to get a look at slightly more of Kitty’s face, and her fingers brush against dampness on the girl's cheek.

‘Mija, are you alright?’

‘’M fine.’ It’s more indistinct than it should be- Catalina frowns. She starts to feel the first gnawings of guilt in the pit of her stomach. 

‘Kitty?’

‘- I’m sorry.’

‘Oh Kit.’

Catalina pushes a few cushions aside and makes herself a space at the end of the sofa. The guilt grows, and she wonders if maybe advice hadn’t been what was needed after all.

‘You have nothing to apologise for. It’s ok.’

‘’M sorry. You don’t have to take care of me.’ It’s so small and wavery that Catalina immediately feels like the worst person in the world. It’s not her fault- she isn’t used to this, she’s used to dramatics needing to be curbed, she’s used to plain speaking and advice. That’s what she’s good at. Kitty half sits up as Catalina sits down, as if she’s going to retreat to her bedroom, and Catalina sighs. She’s fucked up.

‘Come here mija.’ Catalina tugs until Kitty reluctantly rests her head against Catalina’s leg, and begins to smooth her hair back from her warm forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so snappish and unhelpful. I was trying to help and I think I just made it worse, didn’t I?’

‘It’s ok.’

‘I’m not actually cross with you, you know that don’t you?’

Kitty makes a small non-commital noise.

‘Don’t you?’

‘...I suppose.’

‘Good. Now what I can get to help you feel better, hm?’

Kitty’s face sinks into resignation. ‘I’ll take the aspirin. Is it still in the cabinet?’

It’s mildly painful to Catalina to actually witness this- how Kitty’s resistance, her own wants and needs, are ready to crumble in an instant if it means that she’ll be restored to favour (in the early days, she’d taken it for a pleasant compliance until Jane had set her straight.)

‘You don’t have to-’ Catalina stops herself; Kitty blinks at her warily, confusedly. She can see the question in Kitty’s eyes as to whether or not this is some sort of trick or trap. She doesn’t take it personally (mostly, usually)- she knows this wariness was bred into the girl a long, long time ago. ‘That is, I still think you should. But that wasn’t what I meant- I was just trying to think of an alternative.’

‘Oh.’

‘I could run you a bath? Or make you up a hot water bottle. The heat might help. Only if you want to though. You can stay here if you like.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I know. And you don’t have to either mija. But it might make you feel better.’

Kitty opens her mouth to give her usual polite refusal and then a cramp makes her tense- her eyes close for a moment and a nod is wrung out of her.

‘Ok. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

*

Catalina insists Kitty stay on the couch while she turns on the bath. (She intends to use some of her own special fancy bubble bath in it, as a sort of apology, but realises to her chagrin that she’s run out. She uses some of Anne’s instead and tells herself it still counts.)

While Kitty soaks Catalina decides to make the hot water bottle anyway. Save them having to do the same rigmarole over whether or not she goes to all the trouble of boiling the kettle or not.

If Kitty doesn’t want it, it can just go on the floor or something.

Jane comes home just as the kettles switch flips off. Her cheeks are red from the wind- or possibly just from the three supermarket bags she’s laden down with.

Catalina stares. 

‘Are you sure you got EVERYTHING?’

Jane nods, opening cupboards and pulling out draws as she stashes boxes and jars.

‘I think so- probably.’

‘Jane, you were picking up milk and bread.’

‘Oh!’ Jane catches the sarcasm too late, as she always does and colour rises in her cheeks as it always does. (She does not however either fly off the handle at Catalina for teasing her- as she used to, in the very early days- or shut down entirely and go silent and drawn in on herself- as she still does on very bad days, although they happily are getting rarer.) ‘Well I KNOW- but then I remembered it’s Cathy’s turn to cook tomorrow and she probably won’t have time to get to the supermarket before supper-’

‘You mean she’ll keep writing til the last minute and then panic like last time?’

Jane ignores her. ‘-SO I thought I’d get some staples just in case. And they had some of that pate Anna really likes on offer, and it seemed silly to not take advantage of THAT. And Anne finished the last of the cereal this morning so-’

‘We have at least three different kinds of cereal in the patry Jane.’

‘Yes but not the one that she really LIKES. And there were fresh muffins in the bread aisle, and sometimes it’s nice to have a bit of a treat for breakfast even if it ISN’T a weekend day, and THEN I thought that it would be a good idea to get stuff for making that shortbread that Joan really likes because she’s having a bit of a stressful week, poor thing-’

Catalina smiles despite herself and starts to help put things away.

‘I see…’

‘Don’t be jealous Catty, I got you some green tea.’

‘I do have green tea already.’

‘Yes but this is a special fancy looking NEW kind of green tea because I thought you might like a treat. Also a mango.’

‘Did you get anything for yourself?’

‘Yes.’ There’s only the slightest of hesitations and Catalina resists the urge to ask what: they both know it’ll just send Jane into a spiral of defensiveness as she tries to justify her spending money on herself to the insatiable long dead ghosts of the past.

‘Good. Well done.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And thank you for my treats- and for everything else. The others will be thrilled.’

‘I hope so. I got some stuff for Kitty and I to bake with too, there’s a recipe we saw on Bake Off that Anna liked the look of and Kit wanted to try it-’

‘I don’t think she’ll be quite up to that for the moment.’

‘Why? Why not?’ Jane looks suddenly urgently panicked and Catalina hastens to reassure her.

‘Nothing to worry about. Period pain, that’s all.’

‘Oh the poor little thing.’ Jane’s face creases into sympathy even as the anxiety leaves it. ‘Where is she?’

‘Taking a bath. I’m going to bring her a hot water bottle when she’s done. Actually-’ They hear the rush of water down the drain rattle the loose guttering. ‘I think that’s her now.’

‘Has she taken anything?’

‘She didn’t want the aspirin…’

Jane nods. ‘She doesn’t like the taste. I usually just end up bribing her. What did you do?’

‘....I- um- I told her to stop complaining.’

‘Catty!’

‘Sorry! I didn’t say it exactly like that.’

When she glances up at Jane, she’s supremely relieved to see that Jane looks more amused than vengeful.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Sorry. Nothing. Just…’ Jane bites back a smile. ‘You looked SO guilty when you admitted that. I don’t think you’re as cut out for the strict parent role as you think you are…’

Catalina can’t help but smile back. ‘Maybe not. I do want to make it clear I did apologise. And I WAS about to make her a hot chocolate to take up when you came in.’

Jane chuckles and hands over the bag of mini marshmallows. ‘Better get started then.’

*

Kitty’s struggling with her wet hair- cursing herself for her ill-thought out decision to lay back in the water and wondering whether to just leave it and lie down with it wet- when Jane taps on the door.

‘How are you feeling love?’

‘You’re back!’ For the first time since being struck down, Kitty feels actually, properly happy: she can’t quite explain it, but somehow, having Jane in the vicinity during a crisis just makes things better. Easier. 

It didn’t even mean things were fixed or solved- for that, all the queens agreed, you needed Catalina or Anne or Anna (or Cathy if the problem involved etymology or linguistics or the interpretation of scripture). Jane was not the person you had around to fix things, they all knew. 

But Jane was the person you’d position yourself close to once the solution to the problem had been identified and needed putting into place. 

(Her role in this respect- always fairly clear- had been absolutely cemented the day that Anna had come home to find Catalina miserably struggling through a phone call, her head in Jane’s lap while Jane did needlepoint and fed her white chocolate buttons. Catalina had been slightly flushed upon discovery but determinedly insouciant, and to their eternal credit, the others had refrained from commenting.)

Kitty struggles to her feet to pull Jane properly into the room. ‘I’m fine! How was your shopping trip?!’

‘It was alright. They had those special dark chocolate biscuits I was waiting for them to restock at LAST-’

(Jane isn’t quite sure why talking about things she’s brought for herself to Kitty doesn’t set off the same anxiety as it does when admitting to having done so to anyone else. It doesn’t, and that’s enough for her.)

Kitty knows better than to comment on the purchase, but she beams proudly at her all the same and Jane shoots a small, grateful smile back- which fades quickly when she notices how tense the girl is.

‘Are you sure you’re ok? Is it still hurting? Catalina said you were having a really hard time of it.’

Kitty blushes slightly. ‘Yeah. Did she tell you I was making a fuss?’

She looks so forlorn, Jane thinks it would almost be funny if it wasn’t so very sad. She makes her voice as gentle as possible. ‘Of course not, sweetheart.’ She wraps an arm around Kitty’s shoulders, guides her to sit on the edge of the bed and then picks up the abandoned comb. ‘She said that you were in pain and that she was concerned. That’s all.’

‘Oh.’ Kitty keeps her head down as Jane begins to patiently work through the tangles. ‘I WAS making a fuss though…’

‘Actually, she told me that she feels awful for not being more sympathetic at first.’

‘But she doesn’t need to! She ran me a bath and everything. And I shouldn’t be so whiney anyway.’

‘Love-’ Jane keeps combing, and Kitty unconsciously relaxes back into her touch, enjoying it. ‘Remember what we told you? You don’t need to feel bad about being taken care of sometimes. We all want to help. Especially if you’re not feeling good.’

‘But I’m an adult, I-’

‘Yes?’

‘I-’ Kitty bites her lip miserably. ‘I should be able to just...handle myself, you know?’

Jane shrugs. ‘Is that what you think the rest of us should do then?’

‘What?’

‘Like, I should just handle myself and stop bothering Anna or you when I need help doing a form? Or how Cathy should just get over it when she gets overwhelmed and keep going?’

‘No of course not-’

‘Or how Anne should just stop being late for things and finish jobs when she starts them?’

‘No! That would be horrible, that’s-’

Jane nods. ‘So why is it any different for you? Why wouldn’t we be just as eager to help you when we love you just as much? Hm?’

Kitty sighs in defeat, and then winces as the comb is tugged. ‘I know. I know that really. I suppose. It’s just….hard to know it properly sometimes.’

‘I know love.’ Jane leans down and kisses the top of her head, then begins to plait her hair back. ‘We’ll remind you though. As much as you need.’

Kitty opens her mouth to reply but she’s interrupted by another tap on the door- Catalina, bearing a tray and looking slightly awkward.

‘I thought you might like a hot drink-’ As she puts the tray down on the nightstand, Kitty sees that it bears one fuzzy hot water bottle, one plate of shortbread, two mugs of tea- and possibly the most decadent hot chocolate she has ever seen in her life.

She’d been about to apologise again- she still can’t quite shake the anxiety that Catalina might maybe still be annoyed at her despite her reassurances- but the elaborateness of the drink surprises a laugh out of her instead.

‘Catty! It looks-’

Jane’s laughing too. ‘That’s….oh my goodness!’

Catalina tries and fails to frown. ‘Hey! I worked very hard on this. It is NOT easy to get that many marshmallows into one mug-’

‘You look like you managed though-’

‘Just about-’ She glances at Kitty, slightly anxiously. ‘Is it ok? Do you like it?’

‘I love it!’ Kitty bounces off the bed to hug Catalina in gratitude and then winces. ‘Argh. Bad idea. Sorry.’

‘It’s ok-’ Catalina hands her the hot water bottle and Kitty presses it thankfully to her stomach. ‘Why don’t you get comfortable? It might feel better if you lie down.’

Jane starts to arrange pillows as Kitty settles onto the bed. ‘Jane, I’m not an invalid you know, I honestly can do it myself-’

‘I know love.’ She doesn’t stop. ‘But you’re sick so-’

‘I’m not sick.’

‘Being in pain is a kind of sick.’ Catalina chips in. ‘Just indulge us mija. Now, do you want some peace and quiet so you can rest? Or do you want company?’

Kitty hesitates. ‘It’s ok love, whichever you prefer. We won’t take it personally if you’d rather have some space-’

Kitty nods; Jane and Catalina wait a moment and then pick up their tea and start for the door. As Jane opens it, they’re stopped by a squeak from the bed.

‘Kit?’

‘Do- do you mind staying? If you’re not too busy?’ She squeezes the hot water bottle case anxiously. ‘Just, it really hurts and it’s nice to have a distraction and-’ Despite their reassurance, Kitty still half expects to catch an eye roll or a reluctant sigh. Of course they don’t want to stay really, of course they’re busy…

But instead, Jane smiles as she closes the door; Catalina squeezes her hand as she settles onto the bed.

‘Well done mija. I know that wasn’t easy.’

It’s a silly thing to need validation for but it makes the anxious bands that have seized around Kitty’s chest loosen anyway.

They get comfortable on the bed either side of her and Jane reaches for Kitty’s laptop.

‘How about some trash tv? That usually makes me feel better.’

Kitty settles back, letting her head rest against Catalina’s shoulder. It feels warm and comfortable, a good place to rest. ‘Sure. Not Love Island though, I feel too gross to enjoy watching people in bikinis.’

‘Fine.’ Jane pouts slightly and Catalina chuckles. ‘Bake Off?’

‘Ok.’

They watch in silence for a few minutes, as the sprightly music plays and mouth watering images of sponges and tarts fill the screen. Catalina hands Kitty her hot chocolate and it’s very bit as good as it looks; Jane’s arm around her is pleasantly soothing.

‘Catty?’

‘Hm?’

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome mija.’

(Kitty doesn’t just mean for the hot chocolate. But she thinks Catalina probably knows this.)

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 4

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,910

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: <3rd person> graphic description of a panic attack, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <none>

...

Where would he have gone? In the backyard? No, there's too much space out there, and it's too bright. Maybe- of course! Patton raced down the hall to the bathroom door, which was shut. He nearly started knocking, but remembering how easily startled Virgil could get when he was having an attack, he decided to just calmly say into the closed door;

"Virgil, it's Patton. Can I come in?" His voice came out very buttery and smooth, calm as he could get it to be. he heard a muffled sob from inside, and his heart went to his throat. But he knew he had to stay calm, for Virgil's sake.

As slowly, gently, and quietly as possible, he opened the door and stepped inside. It was dark, the only light coming from a small hazy window near the ceiling above the shower. He could barely make out Virgil's figure; he was curled into a ball on his side, crying into his knees, lying in the bathtub. From what Patton could see, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead implied he had been sweating, and the sleeves of his sweater were wet and crumpled, like he'd been chewing on them.

Patton slowly walked over, trying not to upset Virgil more. He slowly and gently clambered into the Bathtub, and sat cross-legged with Virgil in front of him. Remember everything you read about. Pressure is good, it gives a sense of security on an instinctual level. Don't take his hoodie off of him. He slowly reached down and lightly touched Virgil on the shoulder. When he didn't react, Patton gently scooped him up and held him in his lap, securing his arms around Virgil's shaking form as he cradled him. Although Virgil was taller than Patton, Patton had a sturdier build compared to Virgil's thinness. He started rocking Virgil very slowly, and did the first thing that came to mind.

"Virgil, it will be okay. I'm here. I'm going to breathe, okay? Try and feel me breathing, and when you can, try and copy it." Once again, his voice was soft and caring, nearly a whisper. Patton began breathing slowly and steadily, in, and out. in, and out. After what seemed like a long while, Virgil had stopped shaking, and Patton could tell he was trying to copy his breathing. It took him a few tries - his diaphragm kept spasming and making him sob more - but the tears had mostly stopped.

Soon, Virgil was breathing along with Patton - still a bit shakily, but they were definitely getting somewhere. Once Virgil's attack passed, he felt exhausted. He relaxed more into Patton, almost falling asleep.

"Virgil, I know you're tired, but we can't sleep here. Want me to call your parents so they can come pick you up?" Patton said, leaning down to try and come eye to eye with Virgil, who seemed content laying there, his head on Patton's left collar bone.

"Mmmm," Virgil started, rubbing his eyes. "No, that's alright. I'm supposed to take the bus today anyway."

"But-"

"Shhh, it's okay. I'll stay here for a while longer, and then get going, so I'll have time to get my bearings." Virgil stood, getting out of the bathtub, and then helping Patton up and out. As soon as he was out, Virgil pulled Patton into a hug - not a hard one, but a heartfelt gentle one. The best kind. "Thank you so much. I don't know how I would've made it through that one without you. Are you alright?" Virgil pulled away at the last part, holding Patton's shoulders and looking into his eyes. Patton had never seen this side of Virgil, so excessively caring. "I know you've never had to deal with me, or anyone, having an attack, but for the record, I think you handled it amazingly." Virgil continued, pulling Patton back into the hug.

Patton hugged back then, burying his face in Virgil's shoulder. "I'm just glad you're okay."

They stayed like that for a while, just happy in their moment.

...

When Patton and Virgil returned to Roman's room, Logan was just leaving.

"Hey, Lo! Are you out of here?" Patton said, still cheery as ever.

"Hello, Patton. Yes, my parents have arrived. I must be going now. I will see you tomorrow in class. Goodbye, Roman, Virgil," Logan nodded to them all, and then stepped past the newcomers to exit. Just then, Patton's phone buzzed, and a text came through that Virgil and Roman remained oblivious to; Patton scarcely read it, but knew that if it was from his brother, he'd best be getting home.

"Uh, w-wait up Lo! I'm headed out too!" Patton said, hurriedly grabbing his pastel blue backpack and rushing out, quietly saying goodbye to Virgil.

Patton caught up with Logan at the end of the hallway, a few feet before the door.

"Hello Patton. Are your parents here too?" Logan said, opening the door and holding it open for his curly-haired companion.

"Uh, no, but I'd best be getting home. I take the bus. My parents... don't have a car. They, uh, they care for environmental safety and stuff." Patton said, trying not to make his lie too obvious.

"Oh, I see." Logan's hand went to his chin, as if he was considering something. "Well, if you wish, I can ask my parents if they'll give you a ride home. I know the bus can be uncomfortable."

"Oh! umm..." Patton really wanted to say yes, but he knew that if his brother saw him come in from someone else's car, he'd be furious. "I'd love to, really, but I can't. Thank you so much anyways though! I'll see you tomorrow." Patton said, a toothy smile appearing as he waved to Logan. Then, before Logan could press further, Patton skipped quickly down Roman's driveway, down the sidewalk, and out of sight.

Logan just shrugged it off, and got in his parent's car.

...

Virgil and Roman were fixed in an awkward silence. Virgil was slouching against the wall near Roman's door, and Roman was laying back on his bed.

"Where were you?" Roman asked eventually.

"In the bathroom. I'd been holding it for a while, if you must know." Virgil lied, trying to keep Roman from asking again.

"Yuck! TMI, Surly Temple!" Roman said, throwing one of his pillows in Virgil's general direction, unsuccessful in hitting him; the pillow landed at Virgil's feet.

"Man, for a jock, your aim is shit," Virgil said, chucking the pillow back and hitting Roman square in the face.

"Ugh!" Roman exclaimed, shoving the pillow off him. Virgil walked over and plopped onto the bed, being sure to avoid eye contact. "Well hello there, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance," Roman teased, leaning closer to Virgil.

He just scoffed at him for the hundredth time that day, and threw the pillow at his face again. "Yeah, in your dreams, Prince Underarms-Stink."

Roman didn't react that time; he simply put the pillow back and watched as Virgil yawned and stretched out his arms. He turned away before the pink glaze on his cheeks could be spotted by Virgil. He pulled out his phone and plugged in his earbuds, putting one in his ear and offering the other to Virgil.

Virgil thought about protesting, but he was too tired to really care that much. he just sighed. "Oh, why the hell not." He took the earbud and put it in his ear, laying back and snuggling into Roman's pillows.

Roman clicked shuffle on his Taylor Swift playlist, and immediately regretted sharing an earbud. of all the songs to play!

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

Walls of insincerity

Shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you

Virgil felt a blush rise to his cheeks as the song continued, shifting his gaze even further from Roman.

Your eyes whispered "Have we met?"

Across the room, your silhouette starts to make it's way to me

The playful conversation starts

Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

And it was enchanting to meet you

All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you

Roman watched Virgil, both of their cheeks darkening. Eventually, Roman looked away, not wanting to be creepy.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

The lingering question kept me up

Two a.m., who do you love?

I wonder till I'm wide awake

Virgil risked a glance at Roman, who seemed to be tracing his ceiling fan with his eyes. He probably isn't even effected by this, Virgil thought. Wait a minute, why am I even effected? Virgil looked away again, trying to stifle his feelings.

Now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say,

Hey i t was, enchanting to meet you

All I know is I was, enchanted to meet you...

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew...

This night is flawless, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you.

When Virgil looked back at Roman again, Roman was looking at him. Roman immediately looked away, praying Virgil didn't see. But he knew he did, that for that split second that their eyes met. Virgil could see the blush on Roman's cheeks now. When Virgil didn't look away, Roman looked back.

This is me praying that this was the very first page

Not where the story line ends

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

I was enchanted to meet you

Roman looked away first. I can't be doing this, I literally just asked someone else out. This is stupid.

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Virgil had looked down as well, but glanced back, seeing Roman mouthing the words slightly. Virgil only blushed harder and covered his face with his hands, wondering how it could possibly be healthy for his heart to be beating this fast.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

This night is flawless, don't you let it go

I'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

As the song ended, Virgil picked up his phone and pretended to read a text from his mom. "Uh, my mom says I best be getting home," He said shortly, taking the earbud out and standing, grabbing his bag. Roman sat up, wanting... well, he didn't really know what he wanted. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, do you want a ride? I can drive you if-"

"No, that's alright." Virgil considered elaborating, but couldn't think of a good reason for his denial. He just had to get out of there, away from Roman, or he didn't know what would happen. "Uh, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Ye-yeah, sure thing," Roman said, scratching the back of his neck. Virgil left with scarcely a sound, and walked hastily toward the bus stop.

On his walk, he found the song they'd been listening to, and added it to his library.

[airi-p4]

Thursday - Alternative ending

I couldn’t give Lukanette an unhappy ending, so here’s chapter 2 to fix it.

Chapter 1

AO3

_______________________________________

Luka blinked at a blurry memory. Or instinct. Something indescriptible alerted him the instant his feet touched the ground out the metro. For a second, he could see a flashback of death crossing his mind. Shivers took over his body and his inner voice urged him to take action: ‘save her’.

Not wasting any moment and before Luka could actually think, the alarm of the doors that announced their closure soon started and Luka's hand straightened to grab Marinette's wrist and pull her body out of the train, just before the doors fully closed.

"Let's skip the first hour" he mischievously grinned, pulling her through the platform, passing next the old couple they had previously offered their seats to.

Out of surprise, Marinette couldn't answer, but she was more than happy to follow him upstairs and out to the street- or whenever he was willing to take her- with a shy happy smile on her face.

"I know I should have asked you if you wanted to come first, sorry for that", Luka turned his head back to her, not letting go of her hand.

"My classes don't start until 25 minutes from now. I can make it on foot, if I wanted to go"

"Do you want to? I can walk you there, if you want" he offered, apologetically.

"I prefer to skip the first hour with you" Marinette blushed with a wide clumsy smile, squeezing his hand.

A loud noise and an earthquake distracted them as they moved to a park nearby.

"An earthquake? That's unusual" Luka said, catching Marinette for the third time of the day. "Marinette?"

'I'm ok! I just tripped". Luka's hands surrounding her were making her knees weak. "Thank you".

“Clumsy as ever. You’re so cute” he casually commented, making Marinette's face flush red. "I haven't properly introduced myself, right? My name is Luka Couffaine. I'm 19 and I'm studying at that music conservatoire across the park. What's your full name, Marinette? How old are you?"

"My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm 17 years old. I'm in my last year of lycée..." She shyly said.

"Dupain-Cheng...?" Luka blinked twice, remembering. "Oh, like the bakery, of course! The best in Paris. That's why you smell so sweet. My sister is a faithful customer of yours" he fondly smiled.

"She is? I help at the counter sometimes, maybe I know her?" Her curiosity showed.

"Her name is Juleka. Your same age. Purple long hair, red eyes, goth clothes. Sometimes accompanied by a little short-haired blond girl with a high-pitched voice..."

"No way! She's your sister?" She exclaimed in surprise. "Of course I know her! She's so beautiful I'm always distracted staring at her that she has to repeat her order at least twice for me to finally catch it. She's kind enough not to mind it… Wow! I wish I had known she was your sister" she regretted a little.

"Yes, she's beautiful. But I think you're beautiful too. And definitely cuter.  May I ask you what your aspirations are, Marinette? With studies, with me…" Luka squeezed her hand, hopefully, waiting for her answer.

"I want to be a fashion designer... and I really like you… as for- really, really like you...”. she couldn't hide the blush on her face as she squeezed his hand back, reassuring Luka.

"Good. Because I really, really like you too, and I want to get to know you better, outside the metro, in our spare time. Would you like that? To date me… officially, I mean. As my girlfriend"

"Yes! I would love that... That's exactly what I want" Marinette smiled.

"Great" he stole one quick kiss from her, which she happily accepted. “What do you want to do? Is there anywhere you want to go?”

"Could I-… I would like to hear you play your guitar" she shyly asked.

Luka smiled widely. "Ok. I'll let you hear the first part of the song you inspired me to compose"

"You composed a song about me? Really?" Her eyes were opened in surprise and Luka giggled at her reaction.

"You made a big impact on me, Marinette. The way you literally fell on me after tripping at the stairs… how your feet tap impatiently at the floor, the way you stick your tongue out when you draw… You're adorable"

"How do you know that? You're never looking at me… you always look away at the glass…"

"I'm always looking at you. See?” he signaled at his black smartphone screen. “The window glass in the dark shows a reflection. I like to look at you from that reflection. I didn't want you to think I don't have shame for staring too much. I'm misunderstood enough with my appearance to make it even worse…" he explained.

"You were looking at me!? I didn't notice... I feel so stupid now…" she mumbled, covering her face with her hands.

"You're sweet, Marinette. And I really like that part of you." Luka smiled at her reaction. “Let me play you your song” He smiled, taking his guitar out of the case and strumming the strings of his guitar to create a sweet melody Marientte carefully listened to.

Suddenly, Marinette's phone vibrated, interrupting Luka’s song. "My parents! 5 missed calls!? Oh, no! They might know I’ve skipped school!"

"It's ok, Marinette. I'll take all the responsibility for that. You better answer the phone. I have a bad feeling..." Luka sounded alerted, and it showed when he didn't take his hand off her shoulder, as if he had to keep her close to protect her.

"Marinette!?" The voice at the other side of the line called in panic.

"Mom? I'm sorry I know I should be in class and-"

"Oh, Marinette! I'm so relieved! Are you ok? Are you injured anywhere?"

"Hm? No? What's going on?" Marinette blinked, confused.

At that moment, a big explosion followed, and a great amount of black smoke lifted to the sky.

Luka left his guitar to the side to hold Marinette as they stared in terror, unable to move, in silence. "No way…" he gasped, showing Marinette the column of smoke that rose from a few streets away. A Cataclysm- Chat Noir- Luka figured out moments later by checking the news on his phone. Marinette gasped and dropped her phone on the floor, speechless. Both of them got shivers at one though: Marinette would most likely be dead by now if Luka hadn't taken her with him.

Luka understood then the voice in his head: 'save her'. And he had done it. If destructive magic as ‘Cataclysm’ existed, other magic could exist too. He was very lucky, he realized. Luka held Marinette closer as she stared at the big fire some streets away for some minutes. Alarms and ambulances increased, and Luka felt the urge to go help, but he didn’t want to leave Marinette alone.

"It's ok, Marinette. I've got you. I won't let you get hurt” he reassured her. “I'll take you home. Classes are cancelled and you’ll be safer there" he offered her his hand, but she strongly grabbed his arm instead, scared and shocked 'I would be dead if it wasn't for Luka'

Marinette was terrified, but at the same time, she felt the same as Luka: she wanted to help. "Luka, let's go. Maybe we can help somehow" she suggested.

"It could be dangerous, Marinette. I don’t want to put you under risk"

"I know. But I can't stay here watching when I could be helpful instead". She gulped in determination and fear.

Luka was astonished. "Ok, but we're not going to expose ourselves to much danger. I would hate it if you get hurt. Promise?" Marinette nodded shyly. "Let's go!"

________________________

The new couple did what they could: Luka escorted people to the ambulances and helped to extinguish small fires, while Marinette helped the medical team and offered first aid to some of the victims. Luka made sure to never lose sight of her. She was tiny but strong, and Luka felt admiration and fascination. The teenage girl couldn't help but feel the same towards Luka's bravery as he helped people around non-stop. After a few minutes, more ambulances arrived and they left the rest to the professionals. Instead of going home right away, they first accompanied the old couple they met before at the metro to the hospital. They had passed out from smoke inhalation, but thankfully they could recover thanks to the teenagers help. "Thank you…" the Chinese old man thanked them when he recovered, and they sighed in relief.

When they stepped out of the hospital and observed the smoke column from before, they paralyzed in fear: the smoke had turned into letters, whose message could be clearly read: ‘This is just the beginning’. The couple got shivers at the threatening warning and Marinette couldn’t stop some tears from spilling from her eyes. On the other hand, Luka, worried and scared, swore to himself he would protect his girlfriend Marinette no matter what.

It was midday when they walked to the bakery, in silence. Marinette was trembling, in shock from the recent events and Luka made sure to keep holding her hand tightly. Her parents were waiting for her outside their bakery and desperately ran to hug their daughter as soon as they saw her.

“Marinette! I’m so glad you’re ok!” the mother cried. “I was so worried…”

“It’s thanks to Luka, mom. He saved my life” the teenager mumbled in gratitude, signaling them her boyfriend.

"Thank you for saving my daughter!" The Chinese woman exclaimed, hugging him in a grateful manner.

Luka could only nod and say to Marinette “I’ll come to see you tomorrow” before leaving. The thought of how she could have been dead by now if he hadn’t intervened never abandoning his head.

Later, when Luka returned home, he found an unknown hexagonal box on his bed. The same box also lay on the table in Marinette's room. Both of them examined their respective boxes, and from the moment they opened them onward, and the mysterious creatures explained themselves, they realized that the ‘life’ and ‘love’ saved that day came with a price needed to be paid back as superheroes under certain mandatory rules: superheroes until the defeat of Chat Noir and the rest of Paris’ villains.

And if Luka and Marinette were already starting something new, the events of that day tied them together forever.

FIN

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XI]

Word count: 5,131 

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

Author’s note: My beta reader gave me a few suggestions and it's truly something that's been bugging me, so I decided it would be better to check with you guys, my readers. I'm writing this story purely for fun so I don't mind changing things. I'm not well versed in writing Character x reader stories and I'll admit the whole concept sometimes escapes me (ahem, fully does) and my beta pointed out that it's become an OC x Dracula fic. This chapter in particular touches into something that may upset some people if they're really invested into the reader POV, which is religion. You may not agree with the reader's thoughts regarding christianity, and I don't want to needle anyone's beliefs because this is a reader insert. My question is: would you guys prefer if I gave the reader a name, in which case she becomes a fully realised character? I'll still avoid describing her because then you can picture her however you like. Longwinded question, I know, but I thought it deserved some explanation. On a more positive note, I made two spotify playlists; one is oriented towards alternative songs (mostly) and the other one is purely made up of classical pieces.

Regardless, ENJOYYY

________________________________________________________

The rest of the trip would have been completely silent if it wasn’t for Portishead’s music. 

I barely looked at Dracula as he dropped me off at the Airbnb I had rented. He parted with a promise to meet me at the wedding tomorrow and an indifferent goodbye, although when I made it all the way to the flat’s second floor, his car was still parked at the front door. When I turned around to throw my backpack on the bed and looked out the window again, the black BMW was gone.

Not even the wide array of DVD stacks inside the Airbnb managed to keep my mind off of Dracula.

After settling in and having a shower, I occupied myself with sitting in front of the TV in the living room and analysing the owner’s collection – an impressive one at that – however, when I picked up a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show I could almost hear Count Dracula laughing as I sang along to Frank N Furter and immediately put the disc back to where it belonged. So I chose something harmless to watch.

As Mulder and Scully bickered about aliens on the television in another episode of The X-Files – really, props to the Airbnb owner for supplying his entire collection to guests – I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. 

Would Count Dracula be a Scully or a Mulder? Such a silly thing to wonder about, nevertheless I was curious about it. Perhaps if he was here with me, watching TV and making his remarks about what was going on, I would manage to concentrate on the episode playing. 

It had worked out fine last time. Well, for the most part. As long as we didn’t watch anything with sexual undertones such as Interview with the Vampire, I would be fine. For how long, was the question.

I frowned as I rewinded the last 10 minutes on the DVD player. Scully was lying in a hospital bed while Mulder screamed at a doctor when just two minutes ago Mulder had been talking to their boss. Obviously, I had missed more than two minutes, too stuck in my thoughts about the Count.

I glanced at my phone again. 

He’d be gone tomorrow. And I needed to know if he would like Scully or Mulder better.

I took my phone between shaky fingers.

A small part of me, one that was still thinking straight, suggested that maybe I shouldn’t do this on account of that kiss earlier. But nothing of what had happened during that trip mattered anymore, not when I would never see him again. Whatever I did today would have no consequences.

 Are you there?

Count Dracula replied just as Mulder screamed at the doctor, and I still had no idea why.

 Yes.

I typed a message as quickly as I could before I regretted this.

 I can’t sleep. 

I chewed on my lip as I waited for a response but when none came, I started typing another text and then erased it. Inviting him over might develop into less innocent things than simply watching TV. 

I curled my toes. I came this far. I resisted him this long. There was no reason to jump ship at the last second. 

Tomorrow he’d be carted away by the Foundation and while I would very much like to do more than kiss Count Dracula, the idea of giving myself to him and then never feeling his touch again seemed unbearable. 

 Do you want to take a stroll through Gloucester?

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

His reply came so quick that he must have been staring at his phone, waiting for me to send another text.

I rushed to change from pyjamas into jeans, jacket and boots. I had just finished fixing up how I looked when my phone buzzed. Without bothering to read the text, I left the flat, heart beating like a hummingbird’s as I went down the stairs to the building’s front door. 

Count Dracula wore the same leather jacket as earlier, waiting for me just as he had waited hours ago in London.

“Did you walk all the way here?” I asked as soon as I noticed the BMW’s absence.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He smiled.

“Exploring?”

He smirked but said nothing.

“Eating, then,” I concluded. “Drinking, sorry. I forgot you get stuck in the technicalities.”

“You get used to it,” he said, extending a hand for me. 

I gasped when I placed my hand on his. Someone else’s blood had made his temperature rise from cadaveric cold to match my own but I was too fascinated by how plump his flesh felt to care about an unknown person’s death. 

“You don’t feel like a statue,” I said, squeezing his hand to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

“You get used to it,” he repeated. “Come. I found a lovely place to break into.”

He pulled me to him so fast that my stomach lurched. I almost lost balance but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steady me. 

“May I remind you that I’m human and next time you do this I might throw up in your shoes?” 

My vision was still swimming and I had to lean my body on his until I could see properly. 

“I’ll warn you next time.”

I craned my neck to look up at him, noticing absently that I had my arms around him in a hug. Light coming from a neighbouring house glowed behind his head likening a saint’s halo. Horns would be more suitable, and more alluring. 

“Will I like this place you intend to take me?” 

“More than I will,” he said, securing me in an inescapable hold, one I had no desire to fight. “It’s a cathedral.”

“Gloucester Cathedral?” I loosened my arms around him. “It’s a holy place,” I said and he cocked an eyebrow. “Can you even set foot in there?”

He snorted.

“I can waltz with you in there while reciting biblical verses as long as I don’t look upon the cross.” 

“I’d like to see that. A healthy dose of blasphemy is always fun.”

A slow smile spread on his lips.

“Then you’ll love it.”

To my dismay, he untangled himself from me but still kept an arm around my shoulders in a half embrace. Instead of avoiding him, I circled his waist with my arm, basking on how uncharacteristically warm he felt in comparison to the chilly night. 

Dracula looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, though a grin creeped on his mouth. For the first time, we had exchanged roles – he, doubtful that I was so willing to touch him, and I, sure of what I was doing ever since I struck that deal. 

Pity it wouldn’t last long.

“Lead the way,” I told him. 

  _______________________________________________________

Except for a couple of stray cats and a dog, Count Dracula and I were the only ones wandering through Gloucester’s narrow streets and quaint façades. The moon was hidden but with how bright it glowed, even beneath a swath of cotton clouds, I would guess it was full. 

I relied more on Count Dracula’s eyes than on the unsteady old street lights that seemed to hail from the 18th century, but I didn’t need his vampire eyes to catch a glimpse of a towering Gothic building, concealed behind a row of modern restaurants and stores, all closed now that it was closer to dawn than to dusk, wedged inside small houses stylised in Tudor architecture. 

“Here we are,” said Dracula just as we rounded the corner and faced Gloucester Cathedral.

It was an enormous and monstrous thing yet beautiful all the same in all its complicated detail of spiking roofs and pointed narrow glass that composed huge windows amongst blocks of stone. Sculptures of saints and kings stood watch at the front, arching above the intricately woven entrance. 

“Is there an alarm this time?” I asked as we approached the door. 

“What for? Christians trust their god to keep it safe. There is someone sleeping inside, though. A priest if I had to guess, so we’ll have to be very quiet.”

“There goes my plan,” I said, although I had none. No space for calculated words and carefully measured tone there. All I had left was impulsivity, and saying things without really meaning them provided me with a rush unlike any other. 

“What plan is that?” Dracula questioned, side-eyeing me.

I shrugged.

“What does it matter if I can’t be noisy now?” I snickered. I would have tried being reckless more often if I’d known I would earn so many bewildered looks from Count Dracula. “Open the door.” I bidded, staring at him. “Please?”

Something crossed his gaze, something that made me wish that he would press me against a wall and demand that I tell him about my sordid plan. But he did no such thing.

“Since you asked nicely,” he said, just as he had done earlier during our trip.

Dracula forced the door open with the same ease I would have opened an unlocked door.

My mouth was a little dry but the thrill of doing something forbidden still made my heart thud, despite the fear of being caught. Perhaps I’d been developing a new habit of doing dangerous things such as making deals with vampires, and getting excited at the prospect of desecrating a church with one. I would have to find a substitute to that after he was gone but I couldn’t think of anything that could compare. 

I followed Count Dracula into the cathedral’s nave. 

The massive round pillars surrounding the aisle took away some of the simplicity of the ribbed vaulting, which derived from early Gothic architecture if I remembered my art classes correctly. There weren’t any pews positioned in usual rows as most churches did, and from where I stood I couldn’t spot an altar. The place seemed bare without them but it was still imposing, as most religious things were, I supposed.

The ground's yellowed stone, that one day may have been white, was dappled with a luminescence of blue, red and purple. I whirled around, looking up to find out where that variety of colours came from, and grinned upon finding a stained glass window that extended all the way up to the ceiling. 

“I never liked churches as a child,” I whispered to Dracula, ignoring that he probably knew it. “They creeped me out. I couldn’t understand how some people felt love inside them, when all I felt was judgement. And like I was being watched by saints, angels and Jesus.” I grimaced as I admired the pictures on the glass. Saints looked back at me with their saintly stare. Jesus Christ was pictured at the centre pane. “My parents weren’t very religious but my grandmother was one of those fervent catholics, full of guilt and fear. She used to take me to mass every other Sunday at Westminster Abbey until one time when I started arguing with the priest during his sermon about how illogical the bible is at some points.” I glanced at Dracula and saw him chuckling soundlessly. “I was 13. My grandmother was so humiliated and angry at me that she never took me to mass again.”

“And you were relieved to never have to go back again,” Dracula supplied. “How do you like churches now?”

“I like them as long as I’m just visiting. And I’m not scared of them anymore, not since I won that argument with the priest.” I looked at him. He was making a point of observing the rest of the church instead of gazing at the stained glass as I was. “You were raised christian, too. And if Wikipedia is right, you fought in the name of God.”

“In another life.” He bobbed his head, lacing his hands behind his back as he wandered down the aisle. “Not the foolish, gullible and fearful catholic as Justina was.” Dracula cast a brief glance at me. “My late wife.” He explained but I had already surmised as much. 

Since he had mentioned her without my needing to ask, I felt the urge to goad him with more questions. The urge to see that odd semblance of grief in his face as I had seen weeks ago. The reminder that he was capable of emotion, still. But I left it alone. It was possible he would shut down and assume that distant and impenetrable façade, and then our last date would be over much faster than I was ready for it to be.

“No, you were more the type to rip people to shreds when they didn’t condone your faith.” I lowered my voice mid sentence when my words echoed. 

Following him down the aisle, I noticed that a big apparatus was raised up in a wooden structure ahead of us and it looked like an organ. Had we been alone at the church, I would have climbed up the stairs to knead a few keys just to hear the resounding, spine-chilling noise it would make. 

“Precisely.” Dracula laughed.

“Did you ever do it for fun?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

He turned around, stopping at the centre of the aisle a few metres away from me. 

“For fun, for boredom, but most of all to instill fear into my enemies’ hearts. Does it still bother you?”

I stopped.

It had when I first found out about it. And although he had just admitted torturing people simply for the fun of it, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as before. I ought to have been disgusted or disapproving, at the very least. It was a little worrying that I didn’t feel any of those things, like I had just discovered a part of me that was capable of terrible cruelty.

“No,” I said. “Not anymore.”

Dracula’s grin was all teeth as if that answer was everything he had been longing to hear. 

“You’re not nervous tonight.” He was still grinning. “You’re usually nervous around me.”

“Usually,” I agreed, smirking. 

Was this how it felt? Not having to worry, not caring about what could happen, not being cautious about every little thing, not minding that he had done horrible deeds and I still wanted his lips on mine?

This foreign feeling swelled inside my chest and my smirk became a grin. 

“Let’s see the rest of the place,” I said, beckoning him with my hand. “There is a door back there and I think I saw something interesting.”

I didn’t wait to see if he would follow and simply turned around, heading to my right where I had seen a long corridor dappled with more colourful light from stained glass. Through an arched portal, I could see the extent of the corridor but it still didn’t prepare me when I crossed the threshold. 

What I thought was only one corridor, was actually two positioned in an L-shape and I stood at the cusp of both. Elaborate lines composed patterns on the vaulted ceiling and walls, fanning into long and curved designs etched in stone and ending in what resembled flowers. Light poured from a collection of stained glass windows and with the way each corridor bent at their ends, I supposed the structure continued until it formed a rectangular. I squinted past a clear glass on a windowpane, and smiled. I could make out shapes of trees and what looked to be a fountain outside. These weren’t corridors but covered walks surrounding a square. Westminster Abbey had something similar.

“Gorgeous,” whispered Dracula.

I turned around to see what he was admiring. His stare was fixed on me, and I had a feeling it had been the same way when he spoke. He moved towards me and the stained glass bathed his face in red. Dracula placed one of my hands on his shoulder and took the other one into his own, extending our joined hands up in a dancing stance.

“I’ll step on your feet,” I warned as he splayed a hand on my back. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“I’ll teach you. Waltzing is easy, and I told you we would waltz.”

In a hushed voice as to not wake whoever slept inside the cathedral, Count Dracula instructed me how, his knees touching mine ever so slightly to point me in the correct direction as I stared down at our feet rasping on the floor, his hands pushing and tugging gently as we swayed to silence. 

After a little while, I felt confident enough not to step on his feet, although I had done it a few times during his lesson, and looked up at his face. We were both a mess of colours and blurry features clouded in darkness as we danced out and into the stained glass light. The air was so chilly that my lungs burned with the effort of dancing, his hand so unrealistically warm on mine as we danced pointlessly – it was surreal, and filled me with an unusual melancholy that I wouldn’t experience something like that again and happiness because I had let myself experience it.

“I dare not ask for love–” Dracula’s words cut through the silence and I drew a sharp intake of breath for what he was about to say. His next words were accompanied by the cadence people used to recite something, which removed some of the impact of what he had first said and I relaxed. 

“ I dare not ask for love – with all

My many sins, both great and small,

I am perhaps of love unworthy!

But if feigned love, if you would

Pretend, you’d easily deceive me,

For happily would I, believe me,

Deceive myself if but I could. ”

I held my breath halfway throughout but continued to dance. The mention of love completely escaped me when he spoke of deceit and I could not help but wonder if he suspected me of it. Did he know I was leading him on and did not care? Or did he know about me and Zoe and this was just a fancy way of telling me so? My heart raced. I hoped he took it not as panic but exhilaration instead.

“Is that in the bible?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“It’s Pushkin. I’ve been reading Russian literature again, old and new and it’s stuck in my head. Pushkin remains a favourite of mine and Anna Akhmatova is a close second from the new generation. Well, old generation, for you.” He chuckled. “The Pushkin stanza sounds better in Russian. Most things sound better in Russian,” he said in an even voice. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he recited the verses in Russian, and although I understood none of it, it did sound better. “This, however, is from the bible. I don’t remember from which book but I remember that I liked it when I was human. I’m translating directly from Latin, though, because that’s how I studied the bible, so I’m taking a few liberties here to make it sound better, and less ridiculously holy. It goes like this:  Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.”

“It could very well be Pushkin,” I offered. 

“It could. Ironically, I prefer these verses more than Pushkin’s.” He laughed lightly and I fully relaxed. He sounded like himself, not at all as if he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. 

I did wonder, though, why he chose those verses out of anything else to declaim. Pushkin was a hopeless romantic through and through from what I had read of him. Of Anna I knew little but what I did know spoke of bitterness, death and failed, tragic love. Why suddenly speak of love? He could’ve quoted something else from the bible. Perhaps something to do with Samson and Delilah, since we had joked about it in the past. Anything else would have made more sense, even the parts that made no sense at all and had driven me to argue with a priest years ago.

Was Count Dracula attempting to tell me something? No. Couldn’t be. He was as forward as one could be. And the idea of him feeling anything remotely close to love seemed a little silly. 

He had loved Justina; more than he thought he was capable of, he’d said. But that had been centuries ago in another life. 

For a moment my determination in being reckless faltered and I felt at loss for what to say. 

Dracula let go of me briefly to spin me around in a move I wasn’t as deftly trained in as he was, causing me to squeal at the velocity and trip over my feet. I thought I would fall but he caught me and started moving again in the waltz pattern he had taught me. Laughter bubbled up to my throat in my hurry to catch up with him and the sound of it was amplified by the long walls. Dracula’s laughter joined mine until it became a song for which we danced.

It doesn’t matter, nothing matters.  I thought as I gazed up at him.  He’ll be gone and whatever I say doesn’t matter anymore. I can entertain even the wildest of things because they’ll never happen. Nothing will happen, for the rest of time.

“I’ve got one for you,” I breathed as we spun in a dizzying pace. “The Devil’s hands directs our every move; the things we loathed become the things we love.” It didn’t come out nearly as expertly as his declamation but I was out of breath, spinning and spinning as he commanded. Like a ballerina in a music box. Dracula simply stared at me, the corners of his lips in their own fight of tugging upwards or downwards. “It’s Baudelaire. Have you read it?” I wasn’t sure if I saw him shake his head. Suddenly, we were dancing so fast that I could barely see my surroundings, much less his face. “I know Baudelaire as you know the bible, only the parts that matter, but I know them from heart. There’s one phrase that I particularly relate to, especially now.” I gulped as if I was looking down a cliff. “What can an eternity –”

Dracula stopped abruptly and I gasped, strands of my hair landing on my face as my head reeled at suddenly being motionless. The world still whirled around and I swayed on my feet as if I had forgotten how to keep myself standing up still, but the Count’s grasp kept me in place. 

Interrupting our dance, I realised not a second later, was for the best. I’d been about to quote something very dangerous, something that could land me with both feet on a grave for all eternity with Count Dracula. And I would’ve said it out of sheer wickedness, just because I was tempted about what could happen if I broke a few rules. 

I looked up at his face, heart teetering on the verge of stopping in fear of what I would find in his expression. But Dracula wasn’t paying attention to me. His eyes were focusing past my head. And then I heard it. Footsteps.

Our laughter must have woken up whoever had been sleeping inside the cathedral.

“What -?” A male voice drifted from behind me, sounding panicked and angry. “You can’t be here at this hour!”

“Shit,” I whispered to Dracula. “What now?”

He gave me a lopsided grin.

“This is your warning,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice now that we had been caught. I had time to frown at his reply before both of Dracula’s arms pulled me into an embrace, my feet swinging beneath me. I emitted a sound of surprise but didn’t struggle. “Hold on and please try not to throw up on my shoes, they’re rather expensive.”

I had one valuable second to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest before we moved faster than I thought was possible. My insides tossed inside of me, suddenly demanding for a way out of my body’s cage. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, too frightened of opening them. I had never gone on a roller coaster ride but I supposed the feeling was similar. 

Gusts of wind assailed my hair and threatened to steal the breath out of my lungs. I was afraid the feeling would last forever until we finally stopped and I landed on safe ground.

“You can let go now, Y/N.”

“Can you give me a second?” I mumbled, eyes still shut. “I think my soul is still trying to find a way back into my body.”

Dracula’s laughter tickled my ear and I tightened my hold on him. He did, too, his fingers pressing gently on the flesh of my back. Slowly, as if in a limp, my senses caught up with me and my stomach settled on what felt like an appropriate position. 

I opened my eyes tentatively and turned my head to the side. Startled, I realised he had brought me all the way from Gloucester Cathedral to the street where my Airbnb rental was located. And he’d done it in a span of two minutes, if not less. 

I tipped my head to look at him, resting my cheek on the cold of his leather jacket. Dracula’s eyes were closed, sets of black eyelashes casting soft shadows on his face, and he was breathing steadily. Not because he needed to, I presumed, but because he was taking in my scent. My lips tugged up automatically; it was odd perceiving that as something sweet but I did.  

His throat moved, drawing my attention. A most devilish thought occurred to me and before I gave myself too much time to dwell on it, I stretched up and nibbled at the skin of his neck. It lasted no more than five seconds but the sound that came out of Dracula would be seared into my memory forever. Raw, rapturous, and chilling at the same time. Satisfied, I let go of him, but he didn’t let go of me. Too fast for me to react, he took my hands and placed them where they had been, and then trapped me into his embrace again.

I had just blurred some very important lines with what I had just done, and yet part of me only cared about the thrill of it.

“Your scar has faded,” he said, and my heart hammered madly. A hand delved into my hair, grabbing a mass of it to expose my neck. “You didn’t really think you could get away with what you just did, did you?”

“Not really. But if you bite me without my consent, then the deal is off.”

“And I have no intention of breaking my word. Don’t think of this as reprisal. It’s more of a gift, such as you’ve just given me.”

Dracula bent his head slowly towards my bare neck, like he was giving me time to protest. I remained silent. It was imprudent, this need to know what he would do, but I wanted to garner every possibility of my time with him to cherish in my heart, forever. And the uncertainty of it made me all the more excited. I stared up at the sky and then his lips touched my throat where he had bitten me, softly, so very softly. And then again, not softly at all. Riveting pleasure sparked to life as if the scar was still fresh and I choked on my breath. Dull teeth nibbled the skin there and a flash of pulsating warmth coursed down my chest and back, spreading gradually in the same way spilled blood spread on the ground: trying to encompass everything in its wake, tainting it with inevitable appeal and fear of what it meant. I held on to Dracula forcefully, more forcefully than one would judge to be adequate, and he laughed against my skin before giving it a long lick. 

“Careful,” he whispered in my ear. “I may interpret your willingness as consent. And I know you well enough to know you won’t give it to me easily. Will you?”

“No.” The word was automatic and I thanked the part of me that still harboured a sense of self-preservation above my heedless desire for him. However, I still leaned all of my weight on him and made no attempt to put distance between us, as I should’ve. “Not easily at all.”

Dracula, showing way more restraint than I had all night, disentangled my hair from his fingers and stepped back. It took everything in me not to launch myself into his arms again but I let my hands drop to my sides.

“You’re dangerous,” he accused.

“Not as much as you are.”

“A different kind of dangerous.” He licked his lips. Could he taste my skin in his mouth? 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

I smiled. Being called dangerous filled me with power. Power over him. I was delighted for only a second before wondering if he would think the same thing tomorrow when I stuck a needle with sickly blood in him.

“The cathedral was a good idea,” I said. “Defiling a church has always been in my to-do list, plus I learned how to waltz. So thank you for that.” I sighed. “I should really go to bed now, and so should you. Isn’t the sun almost coming up?”

He nodded. 

“Before you go–” he looked behind me with obvious disdain at the building I was staying at and then back at me “–what were you quoting before the priest came upon us?”

I gulped.

“I don’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes, shifting closer.

“You’re lying. I thought we had established that you don’t lie to me.”

“You established that.” I stepped back, conjuring a cheeky smile. “I didn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll regret it,” I admitted. “And I prize my sleep. I prefer not to go to bed with a heavy heart.”

He stared at me for a long moment and I waited under his scrutiny, doing my very best to keep it together.

“Tomorrow, then,” he finally said. “Tell me tomorrow.”

But I wouldn’t tell him tomorrow. I would tell him nothing at all. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Dracula.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

As I laid my head on the pillow that night, I realised I still didn’t know if Dracula would like Scully or Mulder better. And would never know.

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