#I'll fix the AO3 version tomorrow

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Seventy

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

I cannot believe we are at chapter 70!! As I always say, I love this version of them so much, and I am constantly blown away by the love you've shown for them too.

When I first started writing SGW, I initially intended to end it around the end of season 7, and now we are on the cusp of starting season 7 in this universe...I can't imagine ending it so soon! So, as I always say - as long as you're still reading and enjoying...I'll keep writing it <3

I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.6k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron frowns curiously as he closes the car door, his eyes fixed on the delivery truck parked on his driveway. 

He feels a familiar sense of relief as he steps into his home, the weight he would always carry on his shoulders in the outside world disappearing the second he closes the door behind him. 

“Daddy’s home!” Emily says from the living room, her voice full of joy. He follows the sound of it, abandoning his go bag in the foyer, desperate to see his family after being away for a few days. He smiles as soon as he sees them, all sitting on the floor together, Lily sitting between Emily’s legs with Jack opposite them, one of Lily’s favourite toys between them. Aaron is barely in the living room when Jack runs at him, his arms tight around his legs as he beams up at him. 

“Hi Daddy, I missed you,” Jack says, giggling as Aaron picks him up and tickles him, stamping a kiss against his son’s cheek.

Emily stands up and then picks up Lily, resting the little girl on her hip as she walks over, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s lips, smiling widely as she pulls back, “I missed you too.” 

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss Lily’s forehead before he runs his knuckles down her cheek, “I missed all of you.” 

“You’re back for Lily’s birthday party tomorrow!” Jack exclaims, clapping his hands as Aaron kisses him again and then puts him down. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, buddy,” he says, winking at his wife as their eyes meet. They’d both been disappointed when the team had been pulled onto a case just a few days ago, and he’d worried he’d miss his little girl’s first birthday. He’d felt nothing short of relieved when they’d caught the unsub, using information Penelope had found seemingly out of nowhere to catch him. Aaron had decided it was best he didn’t ask too many questions, more than happy to rely on plausible deniability if it got him home in time for his little girl’s birthday.  He looks at his wife, his curiosity finally getting the better of him, “Why is there a truck in the driveway?” 

She sighs and kisses Lily’s temple before she sets her down, “Jack, can you look after your sister for me a minute?” She smiles when he nods enthusiastically and leads Aaron out of the room, coming to a stop in the hallway just outside the living room, “My mother sent Lily a gift,” she says, keeping her voice low so the kids don’t hear her. “There are two men building it in the backyard as we speak.” 

He frowns, looking back and forth between his wife and the back of the house, “Did you just say building it?”

Emily hums as she nods and presses her lips together, her arms crossed over her chest, “It’s a playhouse. But it’s huge,” she says through gritted teeth, “You could fit in it,” she says emphatically and he tries to clear his throat to stop himself from laughing, but he doesn’t quite manage it, “You think I’m kidding?” She casts a glance at Jack and Lily, satisfied they’d be fine for a few moments, and then grabs Aaron’s bicep and tugs him to the kitchen where the large pane windows give a good view of the backyard, “Look at it.” 

His response is cut off as he looks out the window, his eyes going wide as he takes in the giant, bright pink, castle that was being built at the bottom of their yard. The pieces of it dwarfing the two men who Elizabeth had sent over to build it. He looks back at his wife, whose face and crossed arms say nothing short of I told you so as she raises her eyebrows at him. 

 “Oh god,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The neighbours are going to hate us.” 

“I know she still hasn’t met her,” Emily sighs and leans forward, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, “But said she wanted to send something, and she’s trying so I said she could,” she says, leaning into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her. She groans as she rests her cheek against his shoulder and looks back out at the yard, “But I thought she’d get her a toy or a trike or something…not her first piece of real estate.” 

Aaron does laugh this time, his chuckle lost against her hair as he kisses the top of her head, his hand back and forth as he tries to ease the tension there that only her mother could create.

“Sweetheart, it’s not that bad.” 

She frowns at him as she pulls back, “Not that bad? Honey, you could probably see that thing from space.” 

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and leans in to kiss her, smiling as she immediately sinks into it, “We’ll get used to it.”

She hums and curls her arms around his shoulders, her hands linking at the back of his neck, “You know the worst part of it?” 

He stamps another kiss against her lips, “What?” 

“We won’t even be able to get rid of it because Lily will fucking love it.” 

___

Emily sighs contentedly as she stands in her backyard. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, taking a moment to take it all in, to enjoy the beautiful simplicity of her daughter’s first birthday party. 

“Now there's something I never thought I’d see.” 

She opens her eyes when JJ speaks, appearing at her side with Penelope as they all look over the large playhouse. The doors were open just enough that Aaron and Lily were visible inside, the little girl’s laughter drowning out the rest of the party as she focused entirely on her father. 

“Where did that playhouse even come from?” Penelope asks, taking a picture of the sight in front of them, barely dragging her gaze away from Aaron and Lily playing, “It’s huge.”

Emily groans, “My mother got it,” she says, blowing out a breath, “And I hate it, and it’s ugly but Lily loves it, Jack too,” she adds, turning to look at her friends, “They were both so excited when we showed them this morning.” 

Penelope hums and looks around, her gaze shifting from the kids from Lily’s daycare, to the team, to Haley, and then back, “Where is your mother, anyway?” 

Emily smiles tightly and clears her throat, looking back at Lily and Aaron, her smile becoming real when she sees Jack has joined them in the playhouse. She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Elizabeth meeting Lily, and she knew her mother’s patience with it was wearing thin. She was doing better, Emily knew that, and she was sticking to her programme, but it was still hard. Years of pain and abandonment and never feeling like she was enough were hard to get past, and she wanted to protect her daughter from it until she could be sure Elizabeth would never let her down too. 

“She couldn’t make it,” she says simply, not wanting to share something she was only happy to share with Aaron.

“It’s nice you invited Haley,” JJ says, clearly sensing Emily didn’t want to talk about her mother anymore, and she smiles at her gratefully. 

“Jack asked if she could come and it only felt right that she did,” Emily says, smiling as she watches Haley and Dave talk animatedly on the other side of the backyard, “It’s…complicated sometimes, but our kids are siblings and always will be.” 

“Speaking of siblings…” Penelope says, waggling her eyebrows as Emily looks up at her, “When are you and bossman going to make another adorable baby?” 

Emily chokes on a laugh, the sound catching in her chest as she shakes her head. It was something she’d been thinking about a lot in the lead-up to Lily’s birthday, the 12 months that she’d need to wait between pregnancies that she’d been quoted by her doctor looming ever closer. She wanted another baby more than anything, wanted to give Jack and Lily a sibling, but she was highly aware that, if things had been different, if she hadn’t miscarried and the pregnancy had been safe for her to carry, she would have only been weeks away from giving birth again. It hurt to think about it, the grief never far away, but she didn’t want that to stop her from moving forward. She’d let fear stop her from having what she’d wanted too many times in the past. She looks up, torn from her thoughts, as she hears Aaron and Lily laugh together, and she smiles, warmth spreading in her chest. 

She wanted her family to grow, to give her children what she’d never had growing up. 

“We want more,” she says, putting her hand up to stop Penelope’s delighted gasp before it even escapes, “But that is all the detail you’re getting until I tell you I’m pregnant.” 

Penelope pouts but then she nods reluctantly, “Fine. If I get another adorable BAU baby to spoil I’m sure I can respect your privacy.”

Emily laughs at her friend’s sigh, the way she says it as if it’s a heavy burden, but any further conversation is cut off as Aaron calls out for her, suddenly a lot closer than he had been before, “Em, someone wants her Mommy.”

She smiles as she turns to look at him, already reaching out for a grumpy-looking Lily, “It is almost nap time,” she says, kissing the little girl's head as she takes her into her arms, “Even the birthday girl needs to rest.” 

“Mama,” Lily grumbles, sounding sorry for herself as she buries her face in Emily’s chest, drawing sympathetic sounds from all the adults around her.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Emily says, kissing the side of her head again as she runs her hand up and down her back. She looks up at Aaron and smiles, “I’ll go put her down for a little while.” 

She hums softly to Lily as she climbs the stairs, trying to soothe her to sleep with her lips against her forehead. She attempts to lower her into the crib but Lily grunts and holds onto Emily’s shirt, her tiny fists tight in the material of it. Emily chuckles and rests her cheek on top of her daughter’s head as she walks over to the armchair in the corner of the room and settles into it. 

“Okay, baby,” she says, rocking them back and forth as Lily settles against her chest, “I’ll stay here with you.” 

“Mama,” Lily cries, pressing her face into Emily’s neck, fighting sleep just like she always had.

“I know, Lils,” she hums sympathetically, “You’ll feel better if you sleep,” she kisses the top of her head, “Why doesn’t Mama sing for you, huh?” 

Lily babbles, her grip on Emily’s shirt tightening, her small, but sharp nails, digging into her skin. Emily takes that as a response, and runs her hand up and down her back, pressing her lips against her forehead as she starts to sing a song she’d sung to her little girl since before she was born.

“Au creux de ton oreiller. Un beau rêve passera, Et tu l'attraperas. Un beau rêve passera, Et tu le retiendras.”

She sighs happily as she feels Lily get heavier against her chest and she closes her eyes, trying to figure out where the last year of her life had gone, how she’d gone from having a newborn to a one-year-old in what felt like no time at all. 

She rests her cheek on top of Lily’s head and breathes her in, “Mommy loves you, sweet girl.” 

___

“I don’t think either of them have ever gone to sleep so quickly,” Aaron says as he joins Emily on the couch, his hand warm and heavy on her thigh. She smiles and rests her cheek on his shoulder, wrapping both her arms around his as she snuggles into his side. 

“It’s been a long day,” she says, humming when he kisses her forehead, “They might actually both sleep until morning.” 

He laughs, “We can only hope,” he says, placing his hand over one of hers, tilting his head to look at her when she doesn’t reply, “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, blowing out a slow breath as she looks up at him, “I’m okay. I just…” she chuckles humourlessly, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, “I can’t believe she’s one,” she sniffs, tears she doesn’t understand burning at the back of her eyes, “I don’t know where the last year has gone.” 

He unhooks his arm from between hers and wraps it around her, pulling her closer so she’s practically in his lap as he kisses the top of her head, “I know,” he assures her, “But she’s still our little girl. It’s a long time before she’ll be going off to college, or getting a job. Or dating.” 

She laughs, wiping tears from her cheeks as she pulls back to look at him, “Interesting order that you put those things in.” 

He shrugs, faking his stern expression as he tries to cheer her up, “My little Lily-Pad isn’t dating until she’s at least 30.” 

She laughs again, the sound more genuine this time and she shakes her head at him, pressing her palm against his cheek as she leans in to kiss him, “I can’t believe you’re going to force me to be the cool parent.” 

He winks at her and stamps a kiss against her lips and then her nose, “I think we’re going to be equally as protective.” 

She smiles and nods, knowing it is true. That whilst she’d do whatever it took to make sure her children were happy, she’d also protect them with everything she had. She breathes in deeply, trying to force out some of the melancholy that had settled into her lungs, desperate to feel nothing but joy on her daughter’s birthday. 

“You know…” she says, shifting in his lap, making sure her knees were next to his hips, “It’s been 12 months,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, her lips ghosting against his cheek and then his jaw, “And we’re not getting any younger,” she pulls back, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “We should get working on another baby sometime soon.” 

He squeezes her hips, the brief flash of concern in his chest, the memory of the danger she’d been in this time last year fleeting, chased away by love and desire that burns throughout his body. He wanted this, he wanted to build their family, but he never wanted to risk her. They’d discussed it endlessly over the last few months, and he knew they would continue to do so until and after she was pregnant again. 

For now, he shakes those thoughts away, wanting nothing more than to just focus on his wife and the love they had for each other, 

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice rough as he pulls her impossibly closer so they are chest to chest, “You have an IUD.” 

She rolls her eyes at him as she plays with the collar of his polo shirt, “I’ll make an appointment to get it removed,” she says, leaning in closer, her lips just out of each of his, “Until then we can…practice.” 

He smiles, swallowing her gasp as he tugs her in to kiss her fiercely, only breaking away just far enough to respond.

“Practice is good.” 

-x-

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[11queensupreme11]

But if it doesn't get fixed tomorrow you also won't upload it on quotev and ao3? 😭😭😭

no, i'll probably still update in all three, i'll just make a note to my wattpad readers that my a/n is blank because i couldn't upload any media and tell them to check out the quotev/ao3 version if they really wanna see the memes/fanarts 😔......

it's been sooo long, i don't wanna delay an update

[diorkyeom]

‘✷’ : CHAPTER SEVEN “the seokmin version”

<< prev chapter | ao3 fic | next chapter >>

chapter word count: 5.7k+

chapter warnings: none

summary: "lately, seokmin had come to a realisation. joshua hong, seokmin thought, was a little bit of an enigma." - in which seokmin has known joshua for years, but he's always been a bit of a mystery to him. and as the days go by, he finds himself falling further and further for the enigmatic man, wanting to find out who the real Joshua Hong is behind his polite smiles and warm eyes and sweet words.

notes: every time i post a new chapter it ends up being my new favourite

"I'm leaving right away today," Seokmin declared to the literature office the moment he stepped inside after finishing his last class. "No staying late to do marking for me."

"Good for you," Yuna said drily. "Go away, then. I have fifteen students who handed in work late. And I need to mark it by tomorrow."

Hayoung groaned. "You and me both. But I actually only have three kids, so I'll probably be out in another hour or so."

Minjun stormed into the office at that moment, carrying a stack of papers and huffing. He slammed his papers down on his desk with a loud thump, drawing the attention of all the other teachers. 

Yuna blinked, eyes widening at the black, inky mess. "Minjun, is that—"

"The printer," Minjun said, "is broken. Really badly. And the IT department have already fucking left. I'm gonna have to stay behind to fix it, because apparently no one else on this floor is competent enough to do it, and you're all gonna help me."

There was a beat. 

"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave," Seokmin chirped, and then beamed brightly, grabbing his bag and backing out of the door. "See you guys tomorrow!"

"Lee Seokmin, you come back here!" Yuna screeched, but the door was already swinging shut, and Seokmin skipped down the hallway with a laugh, on his way to find Joshua. 

It had been a few days since their late-night discussion under the streetlamp, and things were still pretty much normal between them. 

Seokmin still grinned and chattered and occasionally stumbled over his words, and Joshua still nodded and listened and watched Seokmin with that soft, soft gaze, adding in his own teasing remarks and letting Seokmin ramble as much as he wanted. 

Joshua was still the Seokmin version of himself, the version he put on when he and Seokmin bumped into each other at school, or when Seokmin popped over to their house to say hi to Jeonghan, or simply whenever they were in public, in broad daylight. It really must have been hard for him to switch it off, Seokmin mused, but he was okay with that. 

Joshua was understandable now. He was still rippling and changing and effervescent, but Seokmin could identify what all the different colours were. 

Seokmin thought briefly that maybe Joshua would never cease to be an enigma. That he’d always be confusing and elusive and endlessly pretty, all at once. 

It didn't really seem like a bad thing. 

He hummed to himself as he walked down the Music corridor, before poking his head into the classroom that Joshua was working in. His eyes widened, and he quietened his steps as he took in the scene before him. 

Joshua was sitting at the piano in the corner of the room, a student sitting on the chair beside him, and he was going over chords and playing around with melodies for her. His voice was calm, carrying gently through the empty room as he played a few chords, spreading them out and explaining his process. 

"—really, really lovely," he was saying. "Honestly, diminished seventh chords work really well, but maybe you might want to try some ninths? Something that sounds sweet and dramatic, and the arpeggios would work really well for that."

He demonstrated, improvising a melody on top of the accompaniment, and the loveliest, most delicate sound floated through the air, all pale warmth and swirling leisurely through the room, before making its way to Seokmin at the doorway.

Joshua continued to thoughtfully glide his way across the keys, eyes following the movements of his fingers, the music singing under his touch, glass-smooth and pretty and golden, and Seokmin’s eyes were wide as the melody slowly trailed away, resting still and calm under Joshua’s fingertips.

“Something like that?” Joshua suggested to the student next to him, all casual, as if Seokmin’s heart hadn’t started hammering rapidly in his chest from the display of such gorgeous sounds.

The student nodded eagerly, listening intently as Joshua began to explain the overall idea of a piece that she should aim to achieve, and that was when Seokmin decided that maybe he should wait outside of the classroom until he was finished.

Once he was out in the empty corridor, he put a hand to his forehead, sighing. 

That was weird. Seokmin didn’t normally start feeling dizzy whenever he listened to Seungkwan practise his musical theatre songs, nor did his heart start racing when Soonyoung showed him the new song he’d made Jihoon compose for him. It was just music, after all. Just his friends belting out notes, sometimes nonsensically, oftentimes obnoxiously. It wasn’t anything special.

But Seokmin thought about Joshua’s eyelashes fluttering as he traced watercolour patterns across the keys, the gentle, pensive expression on his face as the shimmering softness unfolded before the silent room, the way his own heart was still beating abnormally loud in his ears simply at the memory of Joshua playing the piano.

He closed his eyes, fingers finding the strap of his shoulder bag, grasping it tight. 

That hadn’t just been music. It had been something far too beautiful for words.

“Seokmin?”

Seokmin’s eyes flew open, and he turned to see Joshua leaving the classroom behind the student, who shouldered her bag and turned back round to give a last quick wave to the music teacher.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Hong! I’ll see you next week!”

Joshua smiled, returning her wave. “See you, Yerin.”

And then the girl was off, speeding out of the Music department, and Joshua turned back to Seokmin, the endeared fondness of his expression changing into something sweeter, fluffier, softer. It made Seokmin smile, in spite of himself, because that smile? That was Joshua’s ‘Seokmin Smile’.

“Shua hyung,” Seokmin greeted, shouldering his bag and pushing up his glasses in one motion, missing the way that Joshua’s eyes brightened at the greeting. “I heard you talking with that girl a few moments ago.”

Joshua hummed, popping back into his classroom for a moment to grab his bag and his coat, before promptly reemerging and walking beside Seokmin down the corridor. “Yerin’s normally very good with her compositions. She just has trouble getting the ideas in her head down onto paper, but once she cracks that, she’ll do really well.”

Seokmin grinned, nudging Joshua with his elbow. “She’ll do even better now that she has you, I just know it. You’re really good, hyung.”

“Aw, thank you,” Joshua said with a chuckle. He pushed open the doors to the Music department, letting Seokmin leave first. “I should hope so, though. I’ve been playing music for several years now. It would be a bit worrying if I wasn’t.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” Seokmin insisted, half-whining, before smiling as Joshua looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “You should play something for us at some point, Shua hyung. Maybe at the next Game Night. It’d be fun!”

Joshua tilted his head, and they finally stepped through the school’s front doors, entering the cool late afternoon air. The slight breeze ruffled Joshua’s hair as he adjusted his coat in his arms, gaze sliding away from Seokmin’s and out into the distance. “You want me to play for all of you?”

Seokmin thought about it for a moment. “Maybe just for me?” he suggested. “If you’re uncomfortable with showing everyone.”

For some reason, his words made Joshua’s posture stiffen before easing a millisecond later, shoulders relaxing as he continued to look forwards, before finally his eyes found their way back to Seokmin’s. 

He smiled, irises sparkling in the faint sunlight. “Maybe.”

And then he shook his head, so his hair was no longer in his eyes, bumping against Seokmin lightly with his shoulder.

“I haven’t seen you all day, though. Tell me about your day?”

Seokmin immediately brightened, leaping at the chance to ramble to his Shua hyung, launching into a full, exhaustive run-down of what had happened to him throughout the seven hours in which he’d been at work.

Joshua had gone back into full gentlemanly polite mode again, wearing his pretty, courteous colours once more, all soft cotton candy and not-quite within Seokmin’s grasp. It really did seem to be his daytime default, to infuse one of his personalities into him at all times, but Seokmin could see how they genuinely were always just Joshua too.

He cherished these moments, where it was just the two of them, walking to work or back from work or just randomly bumping into each other at night. It felt special, when no one else was around, when Jeonghan’s rippling gaze was no longer fixed on them, when Soonyoung wasn’t creating the latest distraction just within their line of sight. It was just them.

Just Joshua and Seokmin.

And Seokmin especially cherished those random night visits, where they suddenly spotted each other walking on opposite sides of the road, or where they wordlessly decided to come back to that one bench beside the river that Seokmin had first seen Joshua on his nightly walks. There was something more precious about them, more delicate, vulnerable.

Joshua was more himself, then. He smiled more easily, talked more easily, asked Seokmin questions but also answered them too, straight-on with no elusive dancing around. He was, all in all, much more comfortable when it was just them, and it was something that Seokmin felt almost honoured to witness. 

With every nightly meetup, Joshua seemed to relax even more, and for reasons unknown to Seokmin, it made him feel all happy and fluttery inside whenever Joshua’s eyes softened into gold and the cotton facade all but melted away.

───────────── ‘✷,

“I get what you mean,” Seokmin said thoughtfully, pushing up his glasses as he frowned down at his own book, “but I think saying that Achilles was dealing with ‘the everyday gay traumas’ isn’t going to sit well with the examiners.”

The students laughed, and Seokmin smiled, blinking wide-eyed at them.

“Don't get me wrong, I agree wholeheartedly. If you can somehow manage to fit that analysis in with the themes in the Iliad, I'll personally bake you a cake."

There was a clamouring of noise, the students excited by the idea of being able to get sugar. 

"Mr. Lee!" one boy called out. "Isn't 'love' one of the themes in the poem? Wouldn’t it be really easy, then?"

Seokmin paused, looked down at his book, and then looked up at them again. "I'll bake you a cake if it makes sense within the context of the essay question," he amended, and then waved his hand. "Okay, okay, shh! Please discuss the passage we just read with your partners. Please don't make me talk about baking cakes. I'm not very good at it."

"Oh, come on, Mr. Lee! That can't be true!"

“My sister once set the oven on fire while baking a cake!”

“Can I bake a cake for you instead, Mr. Lee?”

"Mr. Lee! What's your favourite cake flavour?"

"Please just finish this task," Seokmin begged, half jokingly, tapping his pencil against his copy of the Iliad. "If I talk about cake, I'm gonna want to have some when I leave work."

"Why is that a bad thing, sir?"

A phone alarm went off, and Seokmin looked over at his desk, turning off the alarm, before looking back at the students and snapping his book shut. “Oh, dear, looks like that’s the end of my book study session. You guys have to go home now, without finishing the incredibly riveting extract analysis task I prepared for you.”

There were varying degrees of cheers throughout the room, and Seokmin smiled and shook his head.

“I am, however, going to be setting it as a mini task for you to complete for next week’s session, okay? Because we were meant to do it today, but we had no time.” And then he waved his hand at them, gesturing for them to quickly leave. “Now shoo. Go home and rest. I’ll see you all later.”

There were choruses of “goodbye”s and “thank you”s as the students left, and Seokmin watched them go with a slight fondness on his face. 

Hayoung had asked if he’d be willing to start a book study session for the literature students who were in their last year of high school, and of course, Seokmin had been more than eager to say yes. It was a session that included a mixture of his, Hayoung’s and Minjun’s students, since they were the teachers with classes for the older years, and Seokmin had taught all of these students at least once during their time at school. Of course he was going to say yes to giving them study sessions so they could do their best in their upcoming exams.

What could he say? He had a soft spot for memories.

Once the last student had exited the room, Seokmin gave a soft sigh, pushing up his glasses and sat down at his desk, checking his phone, and then tilting his head at the text that flashed up on his screen.

[ jihoon hyung !! ]

your demo sounds incredible by the way

it’s been finalised and everything and the other producer really likes it too

you could seriously have a career in singing if you wanted, seokmin.

Seokmin shook his head, scrunching his nose to prevent his glasses from sliding down. He sent a quick “i’m glad it’s been approved!!” back to Jihoon, but just smiled at the last message, setting down his phone and standing up once again, pushing up his glasses with a finger. Maybe he needed new glasses. These ones weren’t sitting properly.

He hummed to himself as he began to tidy away the room, adjusting chairs and tucking back the curtains, the melody of Jihoon’s new song finding its way inside his head.

‘To You’, the song was called, and Seokmin was certain that it was one of Jihoon’s most heart-wrenchingly beautiful songs to date. Shining, warm, hopeful and romantic, and also utterly wonderful to sing aloud.

The room was entirely empty, and Seokmin’s voice steadily grew louder as he sang along to the melody inside his head, spraying the whiteboard with a cleaning spray and then wiping it down.

In this swirling day

You’ve given me a small piece of happiness

You’ve given me all the smiles of the world in my hands

So even if I run out of breath on a steep road

Even when I lost my path on a cold day

We’re still holding hands with warmth

Seokmin paused then, the main melody echoing around in his brain as he gripped the cleaning spray dramatically as if it were his mic, and belted out the ad-libs and countermelodies, pouring his heart out into the harmonies that, in the safety of the empty classroom, no one would hear but him.

To you, to you

The story I wanted to express

To you, to you

I want to say more things like this

Oh-oh, in this swirling wind on this day

If an eternal love exists

Then that is what you are.

Slowly, dramatically, still basking in the heartfelt afterglow of Jihoon’s incredible new song, Seokmin lowered the cleaning spray and lowered his head, scrunching his nose so that his glasses didn’t slip off. 

It was a beautiful song, about loving someone who was understanding, gentle, caring, even when they didn’t say a word. About being loved in the most precious way.

“Seokmin?”

Seokmin flinched sharply at the sudden voice, so suddenly that he squeezed the spray too hard and sprayed himself in the knee. “Oh, shit!”

He whipped around, looking around the classroom to see who had come in and hoping against all hope that they hadn’t heard him singing, only to see—

“Shua hyung?”

Joshua was leaning against the wall at the back of the classroom, smiling. He stepped away from the wall when Seokmin turned around, and his eyes were glowing with something so, so gentle as he walked through the tables to get to where he was standing. “Hello.”

“Um.” Seokmin stood there, awkward, attempting to smile and give a wave. “Hi? How long have you been standing there?”

“Sorry, I came in halfway through,” Joshua said, chuckling a little. “I came here to, you know, walk home with you. And I didn’t want to interrupt your singing session, so I was just kind of standing at the back by the door, waiting for you to finish.”

Seokmin looked down at his hands and then hastily set everything back on the desk, wiping his knee. “Oh. I see.”

“Wait, let me help you with that,” Joshua said, noticing the wet patch and immediately grabbing a few tissues, before kneeling down in front of Seokmin to press the tissues against the spot. “Sorry, I guess I startled you a lot, huh?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just a scaredy cat. Plus, when I sing I sound really, uh, weird.” Seokmin swallowed, his earlier surprise at Joshua’s sudden appearance now beginning to wear off. But as Joshua looked up at him, eyes caramel gentle in the light of the afternoon, he wondered vaguely why his heart was still beating so fast. 

Joshua rose to his feet so he was eye level with Seokmin. “You sounded so pretty,” he said, and he said it so sweetly and so honestly that Seokmin found himself blinking rapidly, cheeks heating up almost instantly. “The song sounded so nice. You have such a beautiful voice, Seokmin.”

There was a definite blush on Seokmin’s face now, the embarrassing kind of blush that went from his ears right down his neck, and also rendered him absolutely incoherent. Joshua was still smiling at him too, damnit, and it made it all the more difficult for him to focus on scrabbling a few syllables together to give a response.

“It’s not mine,” he blurted out, a little too loudly, and Joshua blinked in surprise.

“Not… yours?” Joshua’s brow creased in confusion.

“The song,” Seokmin elaborated, and then scrambled for his phone to unlock it and bring up an audio file. “It’s Jihoon hyung’s. He’s made a new song, and he asked me to record the demo for it.”

Joshua’s eyes widened at that, amazed. “You’re the person that Jihoon asked to sing in his demo? Do you know how incredible that is, Seokmin?”

Seokmin shrugged, bashful. “Not that incredible? It’s just a demo, anyway. Hyung offered to pay me, but I said it’s okay.”

Joshua shook his head. “That’s still amazing. Jihoon never lets people look at his things until they’re finalised.” He looked down at the audio file on Seokmin’s phone, the cover-less ‘To You’ file staring up at him. And then he looked at Seokmin with a small smile. “Could I… listen to it?”

Seokmin stared at Joshua for a long, long moment. Joshua smiled back, and it occurred to Seokmin that the elder was smiling more and more these days, his face becoming more relaxed, his eyes more willing to curve into their pretty little crescents at the things that Seokmin said.

And then he decided, oh, what the hell. If his Shua hyung wanted to listen to it, then Seokmin would let him listen to it.

So he sat down on the floor and beckoned Joshua to sit next to him, and then pressed play.

It was the first recording that he’d done, running straight through after practicing the melody a few times with Jihoon, and his pitch was off in some places and he came in late in others, but Joshua listened intently, eyes fixed on a random spot on the floor as Seokmin’s voice rang out through the speakers of his phone. Seokmin wanted to cringe, wanted to turn off the audio and wrench his phone away because it was embarrassing, especially when it was Joshua listening, but every so often the elder would lift his eyes up to look at him, and his eyes would be so wide and awed that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but stare right back.

The recording finally finished, and Joshua sat back, pressing his lips together. Seokmin watched him, anxiously, finding that he really was nervous of what Joshua’s opinion was.

“Pretty,” Joshua said simply, and then his face softened even further as he smiled. “It all sounds so pretty.”

Seokmin blushed again, looking away, pleased. “Really?”

“Yeah! I really love how your voice sounds, and I think this type of song suits it really well,” Joshua said, and Seokmin’s heart swelled with something warm and pink and happy. “I love the song, too. I want to learn the chords so I can play it.”

“Jihoon hyung will be happy to hear that you love his song,” Seokmin said, beaming. “You can ask him for the finalised audio once he manages to get the boy group to record it, if you want. I’m sure he’ll be willing to give it to you.”

Joshua just hummed, tilting his head. “I don't know. I think I like the Seokmin version better.”

“The Seokmin version?” Seokmin repeated, biting his lips to prevent himself from smiling too widely. It sounded… nice, when Joshua said it like that. Like Seokmin’s recording had meaning.

“The Seokmin version,” Joshua confirmed. He nudged Seokmin with his elbow. “Hey, maybe this can be the piece that I play for you one day. Maybe you can sing with me too. How about that?”

Seokmin couldn’t help it. He beamed, the giddy happiness evident all over hstopped biting his lips and beamed, and the giddy happiness was evident all over his face but he couldn’t help it, knew nothing would be able to prevent him from grinning widely, oddly thrilled at the idea of having some sort of singing duet with Joshua.

“I think I’d like that a lot.”

───────────── ‘✷,

“I don’t think I like that. At all,” Seokmin sulked, and Soonyoung sighed.

“Seokmin, you made this demo. Demo. It’s an example piece that’s gonna be heard by loads of people! It’s literally what it’s designed to do. Be heard.” Soonyoung stabbed a finger on the table, and then pointed at Jihoon’s laptop. “Your voice is gonna be heard by so many people, and you’re not gonna know most of them. But that’s what’s meant to happen.”

Seokmin shuddered, displeased, and Jihoon tapped his fingers against his laptop. “I don’t think you’re helping the situation, Soonyoung.”

“But he needs to know!” Soonyoung protested as Jihoon just shook his head. 

“Seokmin,” Jihoon started, “You’re willing to let Soonyoung hear it, yes?”

Currently, Jihoon, Soonyoung and Seokmin were sitting at the dining table in the latter two’s apartment, and Jihoon was playing the demo for them all to hear, Soonyoung was talking incredibly loudly and Seokmin was sulking.

He crossed his arms, pouted, and avoided their gaze. “I guess,” Seokmin muttered dejectedly. “Didn’t know that so many other people would hear it too.”

“Seokmin, it’s meant to be heard—”

“We’ll only let the relevant people hear it, obviously,” Jihoon said, talking over Soonyoung. “So that’ll be me, the other producers, Soonyoung, and the idols. Is that okay?”

“Also any other choreographers they bring in—”

“Is that okay?” Jihoon repeated, pointedly ignoring Soonyoung, making the choreographer huff petulantly. The other kept his eyes on Seokmin, however, calm and patient. “We won’t do anything that you’re not comfortable with. We won’t show it to anyone, if you don’t want to.”

“Actually, we kind of have to, ‘cause that’s what a demo is for,” Soonyoung said, before Jihoon shot a glare in his direction and he widened his eyes innocently. “What? I’m right!”

Seokmin shook his head, putting his elbows on the table and squishing his cheek against his palm. “I suppose that it’s true,” he said. “I just… I’m still not sure if I was all that good.”

Soonyoung smiled sympathetically. “You have really bad self-esteem issues, Seokmin. Your voice is so, so incredible.”

Instantly, Seokmin’s brain conjured up a memory of Joshua’s earnest smile and that gentle, melodic voice saying “You have such a beautiful voice” all golden and lovely and he blushed, rapidly dispelling the thoughts before they showed on his face.

“But other than the people at the company, we won’t show anyone else,” Jihoon promised, giving Seokmin a small, reassuring smile. “In fact, you don’t have to show anyone else either. No one in our friendship group even has to know.”

“Okay,” Seokmin said, and then smiled a little. It was touching, how sincere Jihoon was being about all of this. And then his eyes widened. “Wait, but if I do tell someone, like, right now, is that okay?”

Jihoon blinked, and then frowned. “Um, technically no, but if it’s someone in our group then we can tell them not to talk about it anywhere.” 

“Why do you ask?” Soonyoung added. “Did you show it to someone?”

Seokmin took his elbows off the table, nodding. “Just Shua hyung. He heard me singing, so I showed the recording to him.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Shua hyung?”

“Joshua hyung,” Seokmin said helpfully. “It’s a nickname for him.”

“No, I got that part. It’s just…” Soonyoung trailed off, and he and Jihoon shared a significant look, one that Seokmin couldn’t decipher. “Anyways, that’s okay. Just tell him not to tell anyone else, you know?”

“Moving on, though,” Jihoon said, swiftly changing the subject, a slight twinkle in his irises, “I have another track I’m making right now, Seokmin, and I was wondering…”

“Oh, hell no. One is enough for me. Get Seungkwan to do it!”

───────────── ‘✷,

Seokmin flopped down onto the sofa, breathing out contentedly as he wriggled around amongst the mess of cushions until he was more comfortable.

“Ah, this is so nice.”

“I’m so glad to see you making yourself at home on my sofa,” Jeonghan remarked drily, coming into the room carrying a plate of biscuits. “Also, move over or I’m not giving you any cookies.”

“Cookies!” Immediately, Seokmin shot upright again, zeroing in on the plate as Jeonghan set it on the coffee table, grabbing one and stuffing it into his mouth. Around the mouthful of crumbs, he said, “Thanks, Jeonghan hyung!”

Jeonghan just laughed, selecting his own biscuit and curling up on the sofa. “Of course, Seokmin. I love feeding my cookie-loving gremlin every time he decides to barge into my house and steal all my snacks.” Before Seokmin had a chance to protest at the description, he shoved another biscuit into the teacher’s hands. “Anyways, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Just ‘cause,” Seokmin said brightly. “Also Soonyoung hyung’s at the studio, and being at home by myself is so boring.”

“I’m being your surrogate roommate, hm?” Jeonghan teased. “Well, you’re in luck, because my housemate has disappeared too. Joshuji’s at church, so it’s just only lonely me, all by myself.”

“Not anymore, though!” Seokmin chirped, and then threw himself into Jeonghan’s personal space, cuddling up against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jeonghan hyung! Seokminnie is here!”

Jeonghan laughed and let Seokmin squish himself into his side. “Lucky me.”

There was a short silence then, as Seokmin squashed himself as close to Jeonghan as possible, and Jeonghan focused on nibbling his way through his biscuit. It was a lazy day, a calm day, but Seokmin’s thoughts were running, racing through conversation threads even as Jeonghan seemed content to just sit in silence for hours until Seokmin decided to go home.

But Seokmin couldn’t go home without at least trying to talk Jeonghan’s ear off.

“I’m gonna set my seniors an essay on the Iliad next week,” he said suddenly, his brain latching onto any old thought thread it could find and running with it.

Jeonghan laughed. “Your students are going to love you for that.”

“They will!” Seokmin insisted, pulling away from Jeonghan’s side to sit up properly. “It’s on the theme of ‘love’. They’re all obsessed with that theme in this book. Which is weird,” he added thoughtfully, “because I thought that they’d be more interested in the war and the anger and the moral struggles in it.”

Jeonghan shrugged, leaning back and gesturing dramatically with his half-eaten cookie. “What is love if not the biggest moral struggle of all?”

Seokmin laughed, flopping back down so his head was resting on the armrest, nestled amongst the cushions once more. “You’re right, though. Especially with Aphrodite being the main cause of the Trojan War. She’s basically the reason behind all their problems.”

“Really?” Jeonghan said. “And I thought the goddess of love was meant to be kind.”

“Kind?” Seokmin repeated. “She’s horrible. Unpredictable. Definitely an inconvenience, and mostly a nuisance.” He paused, and then continued, “But that’s what love is, I guess. You can’t pin down love. Sometimes it’s beautiful, and other times it’s painful, almost heart-wrenchingly so, and you can never be prepared for it.”

Jeonghan watched Seokmin talk, an almost parental fondness colouring his gaze, like a mother watching her child explain something they were incredibly passionate about.

“Love is often confusing, too,” Seokmin said. He wasn’t looking at Jeonghan anymore, directing most of his thoughtful musings to the ceiling, hands waving around. “And can be confused. With desire, lust, anger, hatred. There’s a very fine line, you know?” He lifted his head up to look at Jeonghan. “Maybe that’s why love and war are such prominent themes in the poem.”

Jeonghan just smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah! Loving brings a desire for safety, for comfort, and sometimes, people can be so desperately in love that they’ll do anything to have that comfort,” Seokmin said. “And other times—well, most of the time—people are willing to be soft for that love. They turn soft, craving that gentleness and reflecting it in the way they act around the person they most want to be loved by. And if that person disappears… well, then you harden your heart, and find you don’t want to love anyone ever again.” Seokmin clasped his hands together. “That’s what Achilles does, by the way.”

“Wow. That’s so fascinating,” Jeonghan said, nibbling at his cookie again. “Tell me more.”

And Seokmin did. It was nice, to analyse aloud, but also to analyse aloud with Jeonghan. The elder didn’t provide much to the conversation, simply sitting there and smiling and asking Seokmin to tell him more, but it was nice. 

It made his thoughts drift to Joshua, just momentarily. Thinking of how Joshua would have listened to him talk. Of how Joshua’s eyes would have followed his every move, how he would have smiled and hummed interestedly and let Seokmin talk, and talk, and talk, and talk.

An hour later, Seokmin was still talking, and as Jeonghan continued to blink unmovingly at him, he wondered whether the elder had managed to fall asleep with his eyes open.

“—so I think it’s only logical that Seungcheol hyung is Zeus,” Seokmin finished. “Jupiter. He’s a scary, scary guy, but also everyone loves him and knows about him ‘cause he’s so huge.”

Then Jeonghan’s head turned. “Okay, are you talking about the god or the planet here?” he asked. Definitely not sleeping, then, Seokmin concluded, pleased. That meant his entire rant about which god each of their friends were hadn’t gone unheard.

“Both,” Seokmin said cheerfully. “Seungcheol hyung is both the planet Jupiter and the god!”

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning back. “If you say so.” He pursed his lips, thinking, and then tapped Seokmin on the knee. “You’re the sun god for sure, though.”

“Who, me?” Seokmin tilted his head, and then beamed. “Aw, thanks hyung. Also, did you know that Apollo is the only god of the classic pantheon to have the same name in both Greek and Roman mythology?”

Jeonghan smiled. “I don’t know what that means. I do know, however,” he added, “that you’re as bright and lovely as the sun, and fill up the entire room with light the moment you walk inside. Everyone gravitates towards you, attracted by your energy, and people always love being with you.”

Seokmin blinked, not expecting such a sudden onslaught of compliments from Jeonghan. “Really? You really think so?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan’s smile turned a little knowing, a little devious, eyes glittering like ripple waves on a lake. “And you know what you said about love before? I think the Sun would want a gentle love. Where someone softens themselves in the Sun’s presence.”

Seokmin hummed contemplatively, sitting up. “A gentle love? Who’d love the Sun like that, though?”

“A Venus,” Jeonghan said, smiling wider. “I think the Sun would be best loved by a Venus.”

That made Seokmin pause, frowning thoughtfully, before a slow smile spread across his face. “I like your thinking, hyung! I guess you really were listening to me while I was talking, huh? I’m impressed.”

Jeonghan pointedly ignored the jab, and simply shrugged. “The Sun would love Venus very much, too,” he said. “And the Venus would love you as easily as breathing. Because Venus is basically the god of love, right? They’d love you a lot.”

Seokmin blinked once, and then twice, before his eyes widened. “Wait, are you still talking about me? I thought you were doing general analysis!”

“I’m talking about anything you want me to talk about,” Jeonghan returned, adjusting himself on the sofa. His ass was starting to hurt from sitting in the same position for too long. “But I think the Sun would dote on the Venus and think they’re incredible, and the Venus would love the Sun immensely and devastatingly gently.” 

Seokmin’s face was contemplative for a moment, thinking over Jeonghan’s words. Jeonghan could almost see him trying to figure out what was going on, what Jeonghan meant, where all this was going. Eventually, though, he seemed to give up, his gaze becoming unfocused and the corners of his lips turning wistful as he wondered.

Jeonghan wondered who Seokmin was thinking about.

“Do you really think so?” Seokmin asked, turning to Jeonghan, and his eyes were wide, voice hushed, like he couldn’t even believe it.

At that moment, the front door opened, and there were a few moments of rustling sounds before Joshua peered into the living room, back home from visiting the church, and Jeonghan watched as Joshua’s eyes softened almost instantly and Seokmin’s entire being lit up as they made eye contact, and he smiled to himself.

“Yeah,” he said, but no one was listening to him anymore. Joshua and Seokmin were already in their own world, as Seokmin leapt from the sofa to bound over and ask the elder about his day. Jeonghan just smiled even wider. “I do think so.”

taglist (send ask to be added): @fairyhaos @atinycupofpositivitea @my-moarmy-heart @weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl @lilsafsafbooyah @stqrrgirle @bittersweet-folder @weird-bookworm @ultrara-re @tianakings @bangantokchy @tiinkerbell @ahuiahoe @leigh-darling

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 3, 2023

Not feeling chatty today, too many errands and chores to do. At least I don't have to buy fireworks this year for the 4th of July. They were just outlawed last year where I live. Before that, we were all out in the street shooting of aerials and and lots of other things. Neighbors around the corner always put on quite the show. Had a few scary moments over the years. But it was all fun until the clean up!

What I'm reading:

Oh wow Everybody Hates a Tourist by anon for the @hd-wireless fest definitely earned it's right to open the fic portion of the fest. It created quite the atmosphere in Brighton were we find one Draco Malfoy living the gay Muggle scene for the last 8 years.

Summary:

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school. Meanwhile, Draco’s just trying to live his big and best queer life: working for the weekend, chasing hot men, getting lost in Brighton's nightlife, and making friends with the neighbourhood cats. Why does his former school rival and crush have to show up and spoil everything?

There was so much to enjoy about this fic given the summertime atmosphere and just hanging out in the pubs, having some smokes, and eating bits of this and that. Harry in this fic is going through some changes in his life but is still on solid ground physically and mentally. We think Draco is too, but there is a vulnerability there and, of course, Harry wants to fix it. One of my favorite things about this fic is Harry's innocence but also sense of adventure. Draco introducing him bit by bit to his lifestyle and the atmosphere of Brighton and Harry is wide-eyed but also enthusiastic. Very cute. Oh and asking for gossip about fellow classmates was a riot. Poor innocent Harry. :) A lovely feel-good fic with definite moments of seriousness. Read and definitely give MA some love with comments!

Everybody Hates a Tourist on AO3

Drarry Tumblr Fic/Art Resources

I know most of you are probably already following @thedrarrylibrarian, but not everyone goes to the home page of someone's Tumblr site. This is a must for @thedrarrylibrarian because there is so much packed into a few links. The first thing you should do is read the FAQ on the home page before you get started. Especially if you're looking for a type of fic. Some fic genres and tropes aren't covered. Also, if you're looking for a specific fic, this is not the place as noted. That is @lostdrarryfics, another great drarry fandom resource.

What is on here is a Card Catolog, which gives a plethora of subject matters to find fics under. Like Beach Reads, or Spy!Draco or Raising Teddy. And even better, they are being continually updated.

Also there is the Reference Section, which is extremely helpful. Here's a few examples: How to Tag your Fic, How to Gain Friends & Friends Writing Fanfic, and How to Write Fanfic Summaries!

The last category, I've mentioned before and that is Friends of the Library, which is a list with links to the collaborations with other writers/artists/reccers/friends, which includes The Happy Hour events.

And finally, you can always ask for a type of fic(s) to fulfill a certain want or need. :)

A lot of work has gone into the site. It's very easy to use, which I particularly am a fan of. So go play around and see what you can discover in the @thedrarrylibrarian!

Tomorrow is a holiday and I'm not sure I'll be making a post as we have some family plans. Hope everyone enjoys their week!

Rom

[stobinesque]

WIP Weekend!

Once again tagged by @steves-strapcollection for a WIP game! (Gerry you are like half the reason phryctoria is nearly done, lol)

THE RULES

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

THE WIPS

wigwag (AKA Stobin go to Indy and Steve gets some (OMC) dick; AKA sequel to phryctoria, which is now revisions (and ch. 2 should be up tomorrow)!)

S4 Fix-it: Lucas POV

Stobin soulmate au

steddie week: day 1 [hunger] {I never finished or posted this one, but I want to start getting my Steddie week fics up on ao3!)

Not tagging anyone, but please please join in and tag me in to say I tagged you if you want to participate. (I'll also make note of it for the future!)

SNIPPET

from wigwag! alas i am not particularly close the nsfw bits yet, so it's entirely PG below the cut

"Guess what I have?" Steve asks when Robin dumps herself into his car on Friday afternoon.

"Please tell me it's something edible," she groans. "I'm starving."

"Unfortunately not, but I can make us some pasta when we get to your place."

"I would love you forever," she says with her puppy dog eyes. No wonder he'd tricked himself into thinking he had a thing for her. She's adorable.

"You already do, dingbat."

"Yeah...well..." she trails off like she's searching for an argument to that point. "That's true," she says, giving up. "So what is it then?" She asks as she buckles her seat belt.

Steve reaches into the cup holder and pulls out the plastic card there.

"Oh shit! Is that my fake?"

Steve laughs. "It is indeed. Your name is Rowan Buck and you were born on January 10th of 1965."

"Eugh. A Capricorn."

"What in the heck is a Capricorn and what is your problem with them?"

"Oh puh-lease--don't act as though a Leo such as yourself doesn't read your horoscope on the daily."

"Okay fine, I know what a Capricorn is, broadly speaking. I still have no idea why you'd have a problem with them."

Robin shrugs. "I don't, really. Just thought it would be funny to say."

"You're hilarious," Steve deadpans.

"Okay, you say that like you don't think it's true, but need I remind you of 'I've laughed more this summer than I have in a really long time'?"

"I never said that."

"You did."

"Must have been an alternate version, then."

"Yep," Robin says, popping the 'p' with a smug little smile. "Also known as 'truth serum Steve.'"

"Ugh, whatever, fine: you're hilarious," he concedes.

"Thank you." Robin holds her new ID up to the light. "You're sure this will pass inspection?"

Steve shrugs. "I got it form the same person who did mine."

"Yeah, sure, but we're dealing with small town dives down here, not big city bar tenders."

"Yeah, actually, I think the fact that we're up against everybody-knows-everybody-itis in Hawkins makes is more impressive that my fake works anywhere. Also--I don't think Indianapolis really counts as a big city."

"Touche."

"So...tomorrow? Wanna try our hand at hitting up a gay club?"

"I'd love nothing more, Stevie."

[quinloki]

Quicksand, Alternatively.

So in the original Quicksand, (<- Ao3 Link, tumblr link is in the title) Sir Crocodile is 100% yandere.

But the reader - Wait, spoilers, if you haven't read Quicksand, don't read below the cut!! The alternative is for people who have read the original story <3

never runs from him or tries to leave him. She doesn't move on, and the one person she gets tangled up with, she despises. So none of Croc's traits shine through in the story. (Some do, but they're subtle, and the reader views them as protective and sweet, instead of controlling or scary.)

But I've gotten comments that the story - while it has a yandere tag, doesn't really have that deep dark vibe we all love. And this is legit ( also no one was *mean* about it ❤️ )

So I'm working on an alternative version of the story (that will only be a few chapters). Because I love a good, dark, terrifying yandere story, and I had meant to write this that way originally.

The story just decided it had a different story to tell, and I decided to roll with it.

It picks up from chapter six - and it'll just be tacked on from here.

STARTING TOMORROW IS A NON-CANON VERSION OF QUICKSAND

I made an entire Post Just To Warn You. \o/

Quicksand 2 will NOT REFERENCE the chapters past this point At All.

** There will be no concentrated edits for these chapters, but if you notice something glaring feel free to inbox me or leave a comment and I'll fix it when I can**

Let us begin.

[someonefantastic]

For the ask game: happy, hurt, ground, sky :)

hello! thank you!

happy ~ from one of my whumptober2022 fills (yes I am slowly still working on whumptober months after it passed, im determined to finish, okay?) also I had to include Gunn's response because I love him <3

oh and I do have some stuff posted for whumptober on my ao3 already. you can read the btvs version here and the ats version here

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see that hunk of junk in my life.” “Hey, be nice to my truck,” Gunn retorts. “Don’t think I won’t leave you here.”

hurt ~ from my wip titled "sleep" for whatever reason aka another ats s5 fix it

It turns out that dying actually doesn’t hurt nearly as much as coming back to life does.

ground ~ another (different) whumptober fill

She pushes, kicks, fights, and is thrown to the ground, her head cracking against the pavement at the same time that thunder cracks through the sky.

sky ~ and this is from a tomorrow!AU I'm titled "gray areas" where everything is either worse or better depending on how you look at it

The sky, though tinged by light pollution, still reveals far more stars than she can see in the city and the waning moon casts the clearing into a silvery glow.

looking through my WIPs I'm realizing that I write a lot of angst, to which I say... huh

send me a word and I'll see if its in one of my wips

[mitsuki91]

No one tags me but I'll do it, whatever 😂🤷

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

... 86 now. Not all my fic, anyway. I was born on EFP, the italian fanfiction site.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Uuuh 978.072.

3. What fandom do you write for?

Harry Potter always in my heart. I writed for other fandom but just some little stories. HP is my home.

4. What are your top 5 fic by kudos?

1. Amor arma ministrat (english version, Severus/Lily fic)

2. The hunter (italian version, dead dove HP fic about new generation)

3. Aspettando una risposta (this was on Yuri!!! on ice fandom and I don't even remember what I wrote :v)

4. Mai far ordinare Mila in un locale. Soprattutto se sei in Russia e lei gioca in casa. (... O forse sempre?) (Still Yuri!!! on Ice, lol)

5. The butterfly effect (english version 🥰🥰🥰 my beloved fic about my OTP 🥰🥰🥰 Severus/Lily Luna 🥰🥰🥰)

5. Do you respond to comment? Why o why not?

Always. I feel rude if I don't.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

"The hunter". I fucking hate angst ending but in this fic... Eh. I mourn it every time.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Mmmh is not ended yet but I suppose "Until the end of the world"? Because it is a fix-it that fix everything you have to fix. But only if you consider one of the sequel (that I probably never wrote), sooooo... Mmmmh... Let me think... "Tomorrow"? Still not finished but it will be good. Also "The butterfly effect" has a happy ending but in this case you still have a huuuuge age gap that complicate things in the long run. (Note: every fic is a Severus/Lily Luna fic)

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Well it is funny because first time I seen hate comment were on "Amor arma ministrat" because it is "almost canon compliant" so some Snily fan hated when Lily was with James, even if she didn't love him and it is clear. That aside, no, I only had some hate on tumblr because of my OTP (they called me ped0 even if everyone is on age in my fics) that prompted me to write "The hunter", so I consider that a win.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, I write it. I am pretty vanilla but kink aside, I write "poetic smut" (at least in italian... I don't know how it sounds in english).

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

Well well well WELL. I don't usually write it, but I may have written some unhinged smut things for my unhinged friends. I suppose there are two craziest one.

The first with Flich/Gollum/Mr.Burns/Muten Roshi. I know. I know.

The second with ehm ehm a mega orgy between Lord Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Black, Cedric Diggory, Dobby, Nagini, Gandalf, Gollum, Caius Volturi, Jane Volturi, Edward Cullen, Eric Delko aaand someone who was in Magic Mike. I DON'T KNOW WHY PLEASE DON'T ASK.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes and it was baaack then on ff.net and they stole my italian fic from my italian account on efp! That was crazy 😂

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, by my beloved @giosnape 🥰 and by me now 😂 So with this I am now in the international fandom.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, with one of my irl friend. But I prefere to write my own fic alone 😂

14. What is your all time favourite ship?

I was born as Snily... But now my OTP is Severus/Lily Luna. So I suppose I can answer with every combination of Severus and Lily 😂

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hey! I want to finish all my fics... No, joke on you. I have some old fic abandoned... I don't even remember them. Maybe in one Hermione was the secret daughter of Bellatrix? 🤔

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am good at introspection. Even with few words. Someone tells me that I can write the most poetics things with the most common words and that I can shoot to heart. Also I love my style, even if I suppose you can truly appreciate it in my shorter stories... The only one like this I have in english now is "Brusies", I suppose 🤔

17. What are your writing weakness?

I hate descriptions. Sigh.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

No one :v if you want, you do. If you don't, you don't.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. A Snily.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Mmmmh I don't have one? Sometimes I re-read my fic based on mood. But maybe if I can choose I choose "The butterfly effect" because it is about my OTP, it is finished now, it is happy, it has grumpy Severus and unhinged Lily Luna. With all the age gap.

That aside, my best fics were shorter fics where you can appreciate my style.

Now! I want to tag @giosnape and @postmariannizm 🥰🥰🥰 my beloved writers friends 🥰🥰🥰

20 Questions for Fic Writers

no one tagged me in this but I saw @hirukochan do it and decided to steal it

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Eight

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

425,915 (most of them Soul of Ice, obviously)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter but specifically Snape, and Alan Rickman characters

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

See, this won’t work so well because I have eight stories, but if we could have chapter kudos it’d be a much more interesting exercise to see my five most popular chapters. Anyway:

Soul of Ice

Happy Ending

Soul of Ice One-Shots

Professor Snape II

Morality is an Illusion

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Not unless I have something to say, maybe I should?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely Three Secrets considering you die at the end.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I want to say Happy Ending for the title lol but really it’s Soul of Ice, which so nearly had a heartbreaking ending but I couldn’t do that to my babies!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope, the Snapedom is generally very positive! And who could hate Dad Snape?!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’ll write pretty much any smut, but I prefer it to be part of a wider context, hence why I don’t write a lot of one-shot smuts. The one-shots I do write are pretty freaky though 😎

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I’d get too lost in the lore trying to explain why the crossover was happening 😂

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, y’all remember when this happened?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, nobody is insane enough to try and translate my whopper of a fic 😂

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I don’t see how it’d work personally, although I am big into using people as soundboards. Soul of Ice would be very different without @sevsnapes and For the Love of Books wouldn’t even exist without @snowblossomreads

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

doctorrose, though I’ll probably never write for them. Any form of Snape/Happiness is a-ok in my book but Snephy is obviously my favourite form of that.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I’m gonna finish them all! I promise! Eventually!!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characters. The most common compliment I get is that people like my OCs, Abbie in particular.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m always conscious that my narration isn’t very descriptive. It feels very “he did this and she did that, then they did this and that.” I do try to go back and flourish it a bit but I struggle to be anything other than literal in my descriptions. eg, if I had to describe a table I’d be like, “The table was a rectangle with four legs. It was made of wood.” 😂

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If I felt the need to do that for whatever reason I’d probably do it like, “Insert dialogue here,” she said in German.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I DON’T THINK I’VE EVER TOLD THIS STORY ok so I was like 9 or something like that and I wrote a snamione story but my mum found out and made me stop because Hermione was like 13. So I did stop but I didn’t just ghost the story, I made a post that my mum said I couldn’t write it anymore but that Hermione finds out Snape is getting married so she gets together with Ron instead. I don’t remember much of what I actually wrote, only that it started with Hermione noticing that Snape had very sad eyes. I’m pretty sure this was before the last book came out so I clearly knew what was up!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Soul of Ice, always and forever. (I count Professor Snape II as being part of it.)

Tags: @sevsnapes @giosnape @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomtumbles @thestephanieflora

[simply-m-a-d]

Paint Under Your Skin

So this Body-Painting Therapy idea hit me in the face and my fingers were itching to write about it, then Yullen got involved and I somehow ended crying in the middle of the night with 3.7k words of this  ~(´∀`)~

Body-Painting Therapy basically consists in painting over someone else’s body or over your own to help calm someone or yourself, it’s not like a real medical treatment, though it’s recommended by a few therapists since it’s very soothing (I’ve tried it a few times on my arms and it really is).

(I wanna thank nea-writes for letting me know of my few mistakes! I tried to fix the ones I found here but I apologize if you find anything else I didn’t catch! English is not my first language TuT)

So…if you’re reading this I hope you enjoy it! (´∀`)

Summary:  In which Kanda forgets Thursday’s are for Body-Painting Therapy and ends up having to work with Allen, the new art student.

Pairing: Yullen [there’s a brief mention of Lavilena and Marie/Miranda (idk their ship name ;-;) ]

Rating: General Audiences

You can read it here or on AO3 (though I have to fix some mistakes on the AO3 version TuT)

He hadn’t remembered. He should’ve remembered. He turned to go back the way he came before they noticed him. Before he noticed him. His hand was about to make contact with the door handle, he wanted to get out of there as soon as posible and- “Yuu!” Too late. His shoulders tensed at the voice and he took a deep breath before turning on his heel to acknowledge the owner. Tiedoll was fast-walking towards him, soft smile on his face, his hair barely being held up by a few paint brushes and hands tainted with a few splotches of paint. “It’s been a while, I’m glad you came.” Kanda ignored the smear of blue paint right below his eyebrow and instead tried to show the old man his most indifferent look. Which doesn’t work because this is Tiedoll he’s talking about. He let out the huge breath he didn’t know he was holding and turned his head slightly towards the door. “I didn’t remember today was Thursday, I’m leaving.” He turned completely in the direction of the door with the intention of getting out of there as soon as possible. He should know by now things are not easy with Tiedoll though. “Wait!” Had it been another person telling him that, Kanda would’ve just ignored them and continued his way, he has no idea why Tiedoll’s voice has the opposite effect on him. ‘Maybe that’s because he’s been my art teacher for a while and because he….’ Yeah, that must be. Kanda doesn’t turn around though, he knew Tiedoll knew he had Kanda’s whole attention. “There’s a new student and, I know you don’t like Thursdays, but he really needs it  and I think you’re the right person to work with him…” Kanda’s grip tightened around the door handle and he cursed himself at least five times once he realized there was a poster pasted to the glass door announcing today’s class motive. Apparently he was too distracted to notice it before he entered. See, there’s nothing wrong with Thursdays for Kanda, he actually enjoyed them since he had more time for his art works and gardening, the problem was, Thursday’s art class was a big no-no for him. A fact he forgot in his artistic haste. He peeked over his shoulder just to met with Tiedoll’s soft smile and warm eyes and he knew he was fucked. He had no problem telling other people to fuck off but Tiedoll was one of the few exceptions. He groaned and closed his eyes, allows himself a few seconds to curse the art god that got him so riled up, before turning completely towards the old man. “Just for today. I’m not doing this ever again.” Tiedoll’s smile only widened with that and he nodded before turning to go back towards the front of the class. “I’ll go call him, your station is ready as always.” Kanda let out a long sigh before moving to his place in the left corner of the room, the wooden table and chair remained in the same position from the last time he was there. He took a seat and looked around the room. If he had to be honest, he really liked this place, his station was located a few feet away from the others, just beneath one of the high windows and he had a perfect view of the whole room. It’s not big, barely fitting 15 people by the most, he noticed there were already another 5 pairs of people working together around the place, each pair in a different station. Kanda realized, once his eyes moved to the front, there was another similar poster to the one on the glass door pasted to the front wall. The words ‘Body-Painting Therapy’ reminding him of his huge mistake. He glared at the poster. He had no idea where Tiedoll got the idea from, according to him some people simply needed the contact and it was a different way of painting, so all in all he could say it was a win-win situation, Kanda understood that. Given his first and only experience though, Kanda didn’t understand why people liked it. That one time Kanda had been the canvas, it all had been good until the other student decided to start asking questions Kanda would rather not answer, given his position he couldn’t move so he remained quiet and completely tense to the point his shoulders ached, while feeling extremely uncomfortable. Now he was being the painter though, and even if physical contact was not his thing, he guessed he could at least try helping this one person. He turned to look at the people working around him, Lena was a few feet away from his table working with a tall auburn haired man, he could see the freckles running down his back from where he was sitting and the palette in Lena’s hands showed a wide arrange of autumn colors. Lena turned his way and the surprised expression on her face almost made him scoff, not even 5 seconds later she smiled at him though. Kanda returned the smile before moving onto the next pair. Marie was chatting with a curly haired woman while she worked with something on his arm, he noticed how the usually shaking hands worked with confident strokes over the skin. Kanda didn’t recognize the other pairs so he opted to look at the ceiling, the soft chit-chatting running through the room along with the smell of paint being enough to calm him a little. “Uhm…excuse me?” Yeah, that was just his luck, just when he was starting to relax. He turned towards the owner of the voice, a young man with silvery-white hair down to his shoulders and a long albeit thin scar running down his left eye, ending a bit above his jawline. Kanda raised an eyebrow, letting him now he was listening. “Do you know where I can find Kanda Yuu?” Now that made him raise both his eyebrows. “You’re speaking to him.” The young man’s eyes, which were previously running around the place, suddenly snapped back to look at him. “Ah, my name’s-” “Allen!” Tiedoll’s sudden voice made both of them turn in his direction, the old man coming their way with a big smile on his face, and once he was close enough he gave the other man, Allen, a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re here.” “I’m glad to be here, thanks for the…opportunity.” There’s something in the way he smiled that gave Kanda an odd feeling. He had no time to dwell on it however because the next moment Tiedoll has a hand over his shoulder. “Ah I see you already met…anyway, Kanda this is Allen Walker, Cross Marian’s adoptive son.” Kanda recognized the name, Cross Marian was an old friend of Tiedoll, or at least that’s how he referred to him. Tiedoll then turned to look at the shorter man. “Allen, this is Kanda, my best student and son, and the one you’ll be working with today.” Kanda rolled his eyes at the word ‘son’, Tiedoll always omitted the 'adoptive’, not that it was necessary though; both of them where like black and white. He said some other things he didn’t bother to listen, something along the lines of 'have fun’ and 'call if you need me’ before sending Kanda a glance that said 'do your best’ and going back to his place at the front. As soon as Tiedoll left though, the shorter man’s anxiousness seemed to appear. He wouldn’t meet Kanda’s eyes and he had started fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, his hair fell over his face and if he had to be honest Kanda hadn’t taken this shorter man as the shy type. Though he was starting to get irritated. “Oi Beansprout,” that got the other’s attention, brows furrowing at the nickname. Kanda didn’t even know where that came from, the word simply appeared in his mind and traveled down to his mouth. “we don’t have all day. You’re gonna have to take your shirt off.” That got the shorter man even more tense, which got Kanda confused, yet he didn’t ask. Even if Kanda were to work with the arms instead of the back or torso, the shirt needed to come off (though if he were to be honest he’d rather work with the back, that’d give him more space). He was about to say something else when the man in front of him took a deep breath and pulled the shirt up and off. Kanda couldn’t have stopped the sharp intake of air even if he had wanted to. Even under the sunlight filtering through the window, the skin before him was of a pale, almost sick, tone. Kanda could see the thin veins running along Allen’s back, the skin was just so pale…'Like being washed by the moon’ he thought for a moment. However, that wasn’t what got his attention the most, but the many silvery lines adorning the body before him. Kanda had never stopped to think much about scars, mainly because he was not familiar with them with his body being quite the fast healer. Allen’s body however,  carried so many of them it almost depicted some kind of abstract work of art. Short and long, thin and thick, his torso showed a wide number of scars, it was almost unnerving. There was a particular long and thick scar, the faded pink contrasting hugely against his skin, running from his hipbone up to the last upper rib, the still ragged skin made Kanda’s hand itch. But he had no right to question, everyone carried their own secrets and he was not about to nose into this man’s life. “Is it okay to work on your back? It can be anywhere from your upper body, though that’s the easiest and widest place to work…” Kanda moved his attention to the wide collection of paint over his table, waiting for the other’s answer. “Uhm, yeah it’s okay.” It was then Kanda understood it was no shyness showing on Allen’s face. It was…shame? Embarrassment? Kanda couldn’t decide. Regardless of which was it, Kanda knew the feeling came from the idea of being exposed like this. “Take a seat then,” Allen does as he’s told, turning the vacant chair in front of Kanda’s before sitting down, his back towards Kanda and his arms crossed over the back of the chair. “if you get tired or need a break at any moment just say it.” Kanda then turned back again towards his 'canvas’. Kanda wasn’t surprised to find Allen’s back just as adorned with scars as his front, though that didn’t make it any less astounding. Back here the long and thin scars were more, with a few shorter and thicker ones scattered around, none of them following a particular pattern, some of them criss-crossed while other ones simply stretched along each other. The few scars sunlight reached shimmered in a dull silver color. Over some places, small groups of freckles were spread, so pale Kanda was sure if they weren’t grouped he wouldn’t even have noticed they were there. Kanda could feel that unscratchable itching that brought him here in a haze to begin with, slowly making its way under his skin. He got the paint he would need ready, his mind already running wild with an image to do, a wide variety of blues and grays along with white sitting over the table he had moved aside. Kanda moved his own chair closer and very carefully placed a hand over Allen’s nape, moving his hair aside, the body before him tensing immediately, and pushed down softly as to indicate for him to lower his head and arch his back a bit more towards him, Allen did so. Kanda grabbed a medium-sized brush and dipped it in one of the many bottles of blue paint, moving then to start working. The first strokes were slow, the skin underneath reacting with shivers and goosebumps, he heard the sharp intake of air coming from ahead and watched the ribs expanding once Allen took a deep breath trying to relax. His backbones slightly shifted with every tremor of his body and only then Kanda noticed how much they showed, just like his ribs and shoulder blades. 'Does he even eat properly?’ He pushed that sudden thought to the back of his mind and kept painting. He worked alternating between short and long strokes, slow and quick, he moved the brush from side to side, from ribs to ribs and up towards his shoulders. Even though Kanda was being careful he could still see the tension in Allen’s body, his shoulder blades kept shaking, his shoulders seemed strained and occasional shivers made the skin tremble. Kanda kept painting with his right hand while he carefully brought the left one up to move a few strands of hair that had fallen over Allen’s back again, his hand accidentally brushing against the first bones of Allen’s spine, making the man jolt in surprise. And then a sudden urge to touch assaulted Kanda’s body. He felt that familiar itching moving to his fingers, screaming for him to touch, and feel, and more. He tried pushing the odd feeling away, it made him feel annoyed with himself, but it only got worse the more he kept painting. So he gave in, later on he could blame it on his bothering artistic self. He ran the pads of his fingers over the bumps of the shorter man’s spine, down to the middle, he heard a soft yelp and very slowly spread his hands over the painted skin. He felt more than heard the deep breath that followed, ribs expanding under his hands, shoulder blades moving slightly closer and he could see Allen’s fist tighten over the chair. Kanda slowly started to move his hands, applying pressure with his fingertips, sliding his fingers softly until his palms were back against the skin, and then repeating the process. He went up, occasionally slipping his fingers through the spaces between every bump of his spine, he reached the nape and then pressed with his thumb, quickly sliding it down against every single bump. He took a glance to the man sitting before him only to find him with his head hanging low over his shoulders, he took the soft sighs as a sign to keep going. He slid his hands to the side, over the ribs, fitting his fingers against the spaces between and then running only his fingertips over them in quick movements, bringing them back again to the center. He moved to the shoulder blades, using his palms to cover them with paint and running his thumbs along the bone to spread it. Every movement was delicate, spreading and mixing the paint with no excess of pressure, Kanda could even feel now and then a few bumps of ragged skin hiding under the paint. He kept working with the blues, applying them over the whole area while creating lights and shadows with the different tones. Kanda worked like this for a while, in complete silence, his mind utterly focused on the skin before his eyes, until the tension finally eased from Allen’s body. He could feel the other man’s body slowly relaxing as he started working with the white and gray colors. Kanda’s own mind and body started to relax as well, the itching under his skin to paint, to create, finally subsiding to a pleasant hum. Kanda didn’t even realize he had lost the track of time. His mind had completely closed off any other thoughts that weren’t related to the skin beneath his hands or the work taking form by his fingers. He started to work with the grays and white, slowly tracing his fingers over the blue paint so they wouldn’t mix, giving soft pats with his fingertips that made Allen’s back tremble. Kanda wondered if this was the feeling people came for, the detachment from reality, the connection between one’s mind and other’s body, both working together to create something. Kanda actually felt…good, and he hated it. This wasn’t supposed to feel so comforting. He wanted to kick the shorter man for making him feel like this. He kept painting instead. (Meanwhile, Allen felt as if he was slowly melting under Kanda’s hands, completely pliable to whatever the man decided to do. There was something extremely unnerving about letting someone not only see but also work on your most vulnerable side, letting a usually hidden part of yourself exposed for them to do as they pleased, but it was also very thrilling. Allen had expected for Kanda to look at him with pity as everyone who had seen had done, however, the strong look in those eyes only showed understanding and just, maybe, a bit of respect. He felt so relieved. And when the brushes had finally given way to those hands, Allen could finally comprehend the magic of this therapy. Kanda’s hands were so warm, unconsciously working all the muscles on his back to a relaxing state, the paint was cold every time he applied more, but the difference in temperature only soothed his skin even more. He could feel those fingers gracing over the sensitive silvery lines and bumps, never halting, not even once had he felt those hands doubt on their way. Allen felt accepted under those hands. He loved it.) By the time Kanda was done with the last finger taps of gray paint over white one, the room was a lot quieter. He glanced around and realized two of the five pairs where already gone, the other three were starting to clean. He noticed Lena’s work, a beautiful piece of art depicting a forest in autumn, bright reds and oranges contrasting against the tanned skin of the tall man, Lena had applied a light layer of paint over the leaves, allowing the freckles to show slightly and creating some kind of texture. All in all it was an amazing work. He was too far away to pick details from Marie’s skin work, from his place all he could see where birds, of many kinds and colors, covering both his arms and over his shoulders. Kanda turned his attention back to his own living canvas, the shorter man had his face resting sideways against his arms, eyes closed and completely relaxed. Kanda took a deep breath and stood up. 'Oi don’t fall asleep,’ the moment those words were out of his mouth, a single grayish-blue eye opened to stare at him. Kanda took a rag from his table and started cleaning. 'We’re done. There’s a mirror right there,’ he pointed to the corner of the room where a ceiling to floor mirror rested. 'and there’s a faucet outside for you to wash your back.’ He watched Allen stand up, stretching his body a little before he made his way towards the mirror. Kanda couldn’t help but watch the movement of muscle beneath paint, feeling very intrigued which then made him feel like kicking himself. But what could he say? He was very proud of his work. The image resting on Allen’s back depicted a lake in the middle of the night, the huge full moon resting above the water creating quite the show of lights and shadows. There were so many shades of blue it was basically impossible to know where one finished and the next one started, the huge moon resting between his shoulder blades was a perfect mix of white and gray, and the clouds laying over his shoulders almost seemed to pop out of the skin. Kanda had managed to allow the scars to show, some of them mixed with the moon’s own painted scars, other ones rested on the water giving it the effect of movement, and a few of them were simply part of the deep blue sky. Judging by the way Allen’s eyes went wide like saucers once he managed to take a peek on the mirror, Kanda knew the other man liked the work as well. So yeah, he allowed the huge wave of proudness to wash over him. A huge smug grin made its way on Allen’s face once he caught Kanda staring through the mirror. “You are actually as good as I heard.” Kanda glared at him through the mirror before bringing his attention back to the brushes he was cleaning. “Hell yeah I am,” Had he been looking up he would’ve noticed the now soft smile gracing Allen’s face and the way he slowly traced his fingers over his painted ribs. “you can go wash outside now.” Next time Kanda looked up Allen was wearing the most shit-eating grin he had ever seen. The shorter man moved towards the chair he had dropped his shirt over and no, Kanda was definitely not watching the way his front muscles flexed. Definitely not. “Nah, I’m leaving it for a while.” He put his shirt on after checking the paint was dry enough. Kanda raised an eyebrow at this and Allen answered back with a shrug. “I’ll wash it off at home,” and then he was moving closer to Kanda. Too close for his liking. Too close Kanda could now pick up the faint scent of honey coming from Allen. Too close he could now see there were also small group of freckles running over his collarbones. Too fucking close. “I’ll see you next week…Kan-da~” Kanda scowled at that. So Allen didn’t know this was a one-time thing, better fix that now. He opened his mouth to tell him, the words over his tongue ready, but no sound came out. He closed his mouth. Then there was a huge grin in front of his face, and then Allen was gone. For god knows how many times this day, Kanda felt like kicking himself. There was no way he was coming back, this had been a huge mistake he was not planning to repeat. The huge knowing-smile Tiedoll was throwing at him once he turned around only made him feel like burning the place down. He was not coming back. This will be his one and only time doing this. (Except it wasn’t. When next week came around Kanda 'forgot’ it was Thursday again. Allen was already waiting for him.)

[masterwords]

the things that make up a life (part one)

Summary: Hotch helps Jessica move Roy into her apartment. It doesn't go well, and he's supposed to fly to Chicago to celebrate Fran's birthday afterward. (Coda to 10x20 & 10x21 because combining them makes for pain.)

Warnings: a lot of angst, depression, haley's death discussed, trauma from Scratch, it's a lot of fighting and sad...

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.2k

Notes: This was supposed to be a one-shot but it got too long and complicated and now it's going to be two parts because 7k seemed just...too long for one piece. You need a breather, right? I'll post part two tomorrow. It's done but it really had to be broken up I think. And then we get back to the Foyet story because I simply had to get this out of my system. If you're waiting for an update on that one...it's coming. ANYWAY. This one? There will be a happy ending, and in part two we'll get there. As always thank you for reading and putting up with me. I'm really sorry for this but I promise I will fix it.

Read on AO3: the things that make up a life

**

The throbbing in his head had gone from mildly irritating background noise to full on distraction by the time they had moved Roy's enormous recliner up the stairs. The last of the items, the final piece of furniture. Movers had taken care of most of it, they'd boxed up and donated entire rooms of the house, but this final load had been the important things. The integral bits of the house that made up Roy, the things he refused to let anyone else touch. His bed, small dresser, his recliner, his photo albums, his clothes, his safe full of nothing of any worth to thieves but the most worth to him. A small vial of Haley's ashes, her mother's rattled around in there too, Haley's engagement band and her mother's. It was mostly just a shrine to what he'd lost. Haley's engagement band would eventually be given to Jack, Jessica said, but Roy wanted to keep it until then. The diamond had belonged to her grandmother, a family heirloom, and Aaron knew she'd given it back to her father after the divorce. Aaron had her wedding ring, the simple band that had fit so snugly against her grandmother's diamond, it sat in his own safe alongside important documents and his guns. When the divorce was finalized, she'd handed it back to him with the gentle smile he'd always taken comfort in. It now felt foreign and wrong. She hadn't smiled at him in so long. “It's been fun,” she'd said with tears in her eyes. “See you around.” Of course, that was just her being facetious, coping the only way she knew how with the decision she'd made and seen through to the end...but it felt so final that he'd held the tiny circle of gold in his hand and cried in his empty apartment anyway.

With a tired smile, Jessica tossed a bag of frozen peas at him, landing it on his thigh. He slipped it up until it settled over the ache at the back of his neck, hoping the deep ache might ease it into the background again. He'd had a headache since meeting Peter Lewis, since the drugs and the fist fight and everything else he simply couldn't recall. It ebbed and flowed, some days it was only white noise behind his eyebrows, other times it was so intense it made him sick to sit upright and there was nothing predictable about when it would shift. He just had to hope it would eventually pass and roll with it. No doctors, no reasoning, just avoidance. He'd mentioned it to Jessica that morning, not the whole story of course, only the shortened version and Derek had gotten even less but somehow, he seemed to know anyway. The intensity of how well Derek knew him still unsettled him some days. It shouldn't have, he and Derek had been entwined in each other's lives now for decades but there was still some awe at just how much he knew without ever being told.

Bending forward, grappling with her fingertips against slippery cardboard, Jessica slid a box toward her and kicked the lid open with the toe of her sneaker. They'd matched, an unfortunate side effect of spending every waking minute with another person since childhood she supposed...she'd been stylish at one point in her life, she was certain of that. Now she just dressed like an old man whose only concern was comfort. They both wore their half-zip Arc'teryx sweatshirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, stiff jeans and beat up Converse sneakers with the scuffed toes. The way they matched one another had always made Haley laugh, like they just couldn't figure out how to make the effort so they grabbed whatever the mannequin wore in whatever store they wandered into and figured it would be good enough. If it was good enough for the display it would be good enough for them. Jessica's only real indulgence tended to be her wildly printed pajamas, fuzzy and soft and usually with the adorable faces of cats prevalent...it was the one part of herself she'd guarded from becoming so like him. He would sleep in his navy blue and black, and she in her kittens and dolphins, and somehow, they would retain what little of themselves they could in the mess that had become their lives. In any case, she kicked at the box with her shoe, and she didn't mind matching him so much. She liked him. He was simple and easy to understand, he was kind and gentle and she loved him so much it hurt sometimes. Like a sly fox, she eyed him, waited for his curiosity to pique before she snatched out some of the contents. A pile of photo albums, dusty and worn.

“No,” he said warily. He had no desire to see his gangly teenage self, he'd seen those photos plenty of times before. Not lately, not since her mother had passed away years ago. They'd all looked through the albums with her not long before the reaper came for her, reliving it all for her. It had made her smile, and he had still been able to force a smile then too but now he would much rather let that past lie with Haley and her mother. No going back.

“You'll never guess what I found in here,” she announced, giddy as she flipped through pages, and he tried to avert his eyes. It was an album he realized he hadn't ever seen before and the throbbing in his forehead made him wary of accepting the burden of surprise. It was already bad enough that he was blinking twice as frequently as he normally would, because keeping his eyes open hurt. The first few photos he didn't recognize but they came with a horrible sick feeling of anticipation. Being so close to Roy for the morning had already brought too much too close to the surface, the recent memory of Roy's outbursts still fresh on his mind. “I'll never forgive you,” he'd said so certainly that Aaron knew he meant it. Not just a symptom of his declining mental state, it was true and had been for a very long time. “I wish you didn't feel that way,” he'd replied with so much heartbreak lodged in his throat he thought he might be sick on it. His ordeal with Peter Lewis shortly after hadn't helped, everything felt a little too raw and a lot surreal. Derek's blood on his cheek, later the dreams of Haley and Jack and Peter Lewis' smile. He'd seen Derek die, his team die, but the real horror he managed to keep for himself...Jessica, Sean, Jack...Peter Lewis couldn't have them, but he saw them just the same, he'd just barely had his wits about him enough to keep it secret, keep it safe. At least he thought so. The world had taken on a too bright and hazy glow that burned his eyes in the time since, like everything was unreal. So far, Roy hadn't said a word to him good or bad, it was precarious though and he knew it.

“Look!” She pointed excitedly, so innocently, at a photo that looked absurd to his tired eyes. A teenage Jessica, all gangly skinny limbs in overalls and a strange gray turtleneck sweater that he vaguely recognized as his own...her unruly ratty blonde curls blowing in the wind, holding the hand of a little boy on a scooter who was the spitting image of Jack. Everything about it felt wrong, surreal. “It's Sean!”

A band around his chest tightened, squeezed the air from his lungs. It was Sean, and he hadn't realized just how like him Jack looked until now. He'd always seen Haley in him, and of course it was still true, he had her smile but how much he looked like Sean was startling. “That must be Haley's homecoming dance night, I remember all of the cheerleaders took a picture with their dates on the lawn, but I can't find the photo of you guys in here anywhere. It must be in a different album. " He knew it wasn't but refused to say anything. "She looked so pretty, remember? And you looked so awkward! God, you couldn't have looked more scared if you tried. And your dad was sick, I remember that...so you brought Sean over to stay with me and I hopped him up on ice cream and scary movies before you took him home...” She was happily glossing over all of the parts that cut him so deeply, and he was glad for it. She didn't remember the things he did, she wasn't burdened with it, and it made him feel briefly light.

“He slept with me that night.” He was remembering slowly, sharing on the good bits, and not surprised that Roy had removed the photos of him. His face, he knew, at one point had been all over Haley's parents' house and in photo albums. A point of pride. Look at this, high school sweethearts. Happy smiles and big accomplishments. Checking all of the happy boxes. Proms, graduations, weddings. They did it all. Roy had cheered him on at all of his milestones when his father either wouldn't or couldn't. Now it was scoured, removed, where he stood was scorched Earth. Haley's mother had passed not long after Haley, leaving just Roy and Jessica to chew on the bitter taste of so much loss and he'd become the face of all that pain for Roy.

He couldn't understand how it wasn't so for Jessica.

“I should go,” he sighed, hoping to avoid Roy who was emerging from his bedroom with a huff. He bellowed for Jessica, wondering why his chair wasn't in his room before he even got out to the front room to see them. She shoved the album back into the box and stood to intercept her father before his bellowing upset the neighbors. His voice carried.

“Dad, it's too big and heavy, we can't get it down the hallway. It can stay in the living room. It'll be nice, you can watch movies out here on the big TV in it. With me, not just stuck in your room. It'll be fun.”

He grumbled something about Aaron never living up to expectations, presumably having to do with the placement of the chair though it was unclear as half of the words came out and the other half bounced around in his skull without ever making it to his mouth. He ambled into the kitchen for a glass of water still muttering, though he'd gone off track and neither of them could make heads or tails of it. It wasn't long before he was back in the front room demanding to know where his chair was again. It was a loop he was caught in, and she was being patient and trying to get him onto another track but the track he chose was laced with more vitriol and she regretted it almost instantly. Not for the first time, she wondered if it was a mistake to move him to her home instead of into a retirement community with people trained to handle his outbursts.

“What's he doing in my house?” he spat angrily. The string of words that followed stunned Jessica, she hadn't heard her father speak that way and yet, as she glanced at Aaron, she realized he looked almost complacent. Sad, perhaps, but not shocked.

“Dad,” she gasped, pushing him back down the hallway while Aaron pressed his palm flat against the icy peas on his neck. They were getting soft and squishy; they hadn't really helped, his headache wasn't muscular, it was deep inside and might never stop. He needed to go anyway and chastised himself for not getting up sooner. With a deep breath he forced himself upright and waited out the vertigo that followed, had been following each bout of sitting to standing for almost a week now...he'd manage, it wasn't that bad. He really should have just paid movers to do the work, it would have saved them all a lot of grief. His faulty guilt complex had once again gotten the better of him, somehow convincing himself that he could earn favor by doing this for Roy. Glancing at his watch, he knew he had enough time to make something of his day. He could easily get on a plane to Chicago now, not wait another night, be there in a few hours. Derek wasn't expecting him until the next day, plenty of time still for Fran's birthday celebration with his entire family, but wouldn't it be a nice surprise if Aaron showed up a day early? Sure, he thought, better than sticking around here anyway. Jack would be happy to see him he hoped.

Jess tried to catch him, managed halfway down the stairs while he hopped down on legs with muscles that felt too tired and too old to move as quickly as he was asking them to. His vision blurred and grayed out for a moment, until he willed himself to stop and listen to her. “Aaron,” she called, catching up to him. “I'm sorry. Has he...has he said that to you before?” She had to know, had to hear it from him...somehow, she knew it was true, that he'd heard it already. Maybe enough times not to mind, but that didn't seem right. Of course he'd mind. Who wouldn't?

He frowned and refused to answer, didn't want to get into it in the middle of her apartment stairwell. Or ever, really. Admitting it out loud was too much for him to bear. “It's fine,” he managed, hoping she would let it drop. Of course she wouldn't, he knew her too damn well to think she might, and she narrowed her eyes and sized him up as if calling his bluff.

“Why didn't you tell me?” She was angry with him, he could see it in her features. Her words said concern and yeah, she was because she loved him but her features were stormy. He had precious little time before she couldn't hold her tongue. Maybe he didn't want her to, didn't think he had a right to expect her to.

“He has a right to his anger. I took someone precious from him and nothing I can do will ever make it right.” He was on the verge of tears and looked down at his feet, gripping the railing hard and hoping she would see fit to, for once, end it. She was volatile, though, and this had ignited some latent anger in her belly that she hadn't realized she'd been sitting on. The worst part was that she knew it wasn't anger at Aaron, he was just the easiest target.

God, he was such an easy target. Standing there, already defeated and she hadn't even said a word yet. She hated herself before she even opened her mouth, knew she would spend the rest of her day regretting what she was about to say but there was no stopping it now. These things had a natural momentum.

“You took her from me too and you don't hear me saying those things!” She was fuming now, and no she hadn't really meant it that way...but it was out, god was it out, and the knife was twisting in his chest now. She was digging in the wound and it made her sick, she could feel the blood on her fingers that wasn't there. It was visceral, and for a moment she glanced down at her hands just to make sure. “That's not...I just...he doesn't have the right to talk to you that way.” I don't either, dammit, she thought.

“Jessica,” he whispered, pleading, barely standing now. He'd anticipated her anger, had for years, but hearing it...it was worse than he could have ever imagined. “Please. Can we discuss this when I get back from Chicago? It's Fran's birthday and I...” He looked broken and she couldn't stand it. Knowing she'd put those tears there...Roy he could take, had been taking, but what she'd said was unforgivable and she knew it. “We can talk in a few days.”

“Fine.” What else could she say? He was determined to sit with her words, he'd chew on them for the duration of his flight to Chicago and let them fester inside of him until they became ingrained in the fabric of his being. He would make them true, and he would hug her and love her anyway while a new seed of anger grew in her belly. At least that anger would be directed inward, she would hate herself for every word she'd said and every worse word she never would. She would hate herself for how unfairly she had lay blame on his head. They would grow old and bitter together if it killed her. Together was the only important part of the whole fucking thing.

He regarded her again sadly before turning and moving down the rest of the stairs with a quickened pace. She felt her insides twist with anger and sadness, how she wanted to rush down the stairs after him and shove some sense into him, make him stand up for himself. It was infuriating that he wouldn't do it, even to her. What she'd said was horrible, she knew it and he should have told her as much but there was nothing there. Not a hint of self-preservation. Of course there was nothing, because he believed every venomous word of it. Haley would be alive if not for him, he told himself as much every day, woke up and spoke it into the mirror before every shower she was sure...so to hear it parroted back to him in those poisonous words was just affirming what he already knew.

“Aaron, wait,” she called after him, her voice shaky with guilt and grief. “You need to tell him not to talk to you that way.” She was hurrying down the stairs right behind him, furious that he wasn't going to tell her where to shove her anger and her nasty words. She was upset over her father, it had nothing to do with him and yet...here she was, tearing at him because it was so easy. He stopped again and turned to her with tears in his eyes. Big, shining tears just waiting to fall.

“It would do no good,” he whispered. In his eyes she saw understanding, grief, the same sadness reflected right from her own. “He wouldn't remember it, but he will remember his anger. Let him have it, Jess. His anger helps him remember Haley and he needs that right now.” Let it go, he thought, he pleaded, and she turned and went back upstairs without a word. Not a goodbye, not a safe travels, not an I love you...nothing.

She meant them all, but she just couldn't look at him another moment without saying something truly unforgivable. So, she just left him standing there on the stairs with his hurt like two children in an epic battle of what they figured was good vs evil. Kids had a way of blowing everything out of proportion, hurt feelings hardening into fact. They were on the same side, but neither of them could see their way to admitting it. She missed him already.

Back at her apartment, her father now safely tucked inside of his bedroom, she closed the door behind herself, stared at her father's hulking chair in her front room, and cried.

Next Chapter ->

[floreleine]

That GM prequel fic - part 3: Florence's POV

Part 1 (Madeleine, <1k, G)

Part 2 (Scarlet, 1k, G)

Ships: Floreleine & ScarletMay

Hiding the entire fic under the readmore this time for Part 1+2 spoiler reasons! This one's also rated G (or T if we're going for swear words and alcohol consumption I guess), a little over 1k words.

There will be at least 1 more part of this, and then I might post a revised and possibly longer version to ao3.

Bc idk where to put this in the fic itself yet, quick setting overview: they're not sitting around a table but instead Florence and Madeleine are sitting on a small couch, Scarlet is next to Madeleine on a wobbly kitchen chair and Anna May is sitting opposite them on a barstool at the kitchen aisle.

That night, the librarians plus Scarlet (and minus Baby, who is sleeping in the next room under a security camera that both Madeleine and Scarlet insist on checking every other minute) are sitting in the kitchen together for dinner and a drink.

Or five drinks in Anna May's case, as she downs the first one in one go and hasn't let go of the Whiskey bottle since. Florence can't blame her, really - if Madeleine had run off with some guy, no matter how early in their relationship, only to return a year later with tears and a baby... She has no idea what she'd be doing right now.

Madeleine and Scarlet are talking about the child right now, sharing child-caring advice - Florence is fairly certain that Madeleine has her knowledge from books and only from books, but she seems to have picked out sound advice from all that she has read at least - and Florence has to smile fondly at how Madeleine is glowing at the prospect of having a child in the library.

Scarlet is careful in her replies, not wanting to commit to anything, her eyes shifting back to Anna May whenever she doesn't think that the others are looking.

'She's afraid she'll kick her out after all,' Florence thinks with a quiet sigh. 'Can't blame her, Anna knows how to hold a grudge, and with how she is drinking right now... It isn't her friendliest appearance'.

Still, she thinks that they will work it out. They better. It's been a while since she has seen Anna May have an emotional reaction to just about anything, and it can't be healthy to keep it all locked inside, pushing all chances of happiness away.

Madeleine must have heard her sigh, and she leans back against Florence's side. Florence squeezes her arm, content to have her by her side, glad that they, at least, don't have to worry about their relationship status. Being with Madeleine always relaxes her, makes her feel like everything is alright in the world.

Madeleine presses a kiss to her chin and, after checking that both Scarlet and Anna May are looking down at their glasses, nods in the direction of the door. 'Should we give those two some privacy?'

Florence tilts her head for a moment to consider, then shakes her head, nodding at Anna May, and Madeleine winces a little. Yes, Anna is barely keeping it together now, who knows what she may say or rather shout if they left them alone... Anna May should get a chance to cool down, before she ends up saying something she doesn't mean and would regret.

As if on cue, Anna May throws back the rest of the Whiskey in her glass in one gulp and loudly brings it down on the kitchen counter as if to dispel the silence that has fallen.

"Fuck."

Madeleine looks like she wants to remind her about cursing with children in the house again, but Florence squeezes her arm to stop her. They don't need to irritate Anna May even more right now.

"I'm sorry," Scarlet says immediately. Florence doesn't think that she is apologizing for anything in particular, just for the situation in general, for present and past.

Anna May gets up and turns around, putting her glass in the sink and turning on the water, but then just leaning against it with her hands holding onto the metal edge and her knuckles turning white.

Florence is trying to decide whether to step in or not when Scarlet speaks up again in a shaky voice. "I can - I can leave, I don't have to -" she gets up, clearly ready to bolt, and Anna May flinches, but she doesn't turn back around.

"No-one's" leaving, Florence says at the same time as Madeleine says "No, don't be silly!" They share a smile, and then Madeleine squeezes her hand before getting up and walking over to Madeleine. "Come on, let me show you everything. You can sleep in the room with Samantha, me and Florence aren't really using it much anyway."

Florence watches them go with a soft smile. Madeleine always knows what to do, what to say. She's so grateful to have her.

Once the other two have left, Florence goes up to Anna May and slams the still-running tap down, making her jump.

"Stop wasting water and get a hold of yourself, Anna!"

Anna May whirls around, clearly ready to fight, but Florence just throws her a deadpan look and she deflates.

"Fuck, I don't know what to do." She slurs her words a little, but not as much as Florence would have expected after that much alcohol.

"Right now? You are going to drink some water so you will not be terribly hungover tomorrow. And tomorrow, you have got to think about whether you want that woman and her kid to stick around or not."

Anna May flinches a little, but when Florence sighs and pours her a glass of water, she takes it without protest and gulps most of it down in one go.

"I dun' want her to leave," she then murmurs, staring down at the glass in her hands. "She left me once, I don't want her to leave me again."

Florence sighs and pulls her into a hug. "Bloody hell, Anna, why did you never say anything? You must have been fucking heartbroken, and all you told us was that you gave dating one last chance."

Anna May half-laughs, half-sobs and clings to Florence like a lifeline. "Don't know. Didn't want to be weak. Didn't want it to be real."

"Oh, Anna," Florence sighs and squeezes her tightly. Then she takes a step back and fixes her with a hard look. "You've got to tell her that, you know that, Anna May? She is going to run away just to give you space while you are not talking to her because you're afraid she might run anyway."

Anna May sighs and grimaces a little, but nods. "I - tomorrow. I'll tell her tomorrow, before I can chicken out." she sighs. "I mean, it's not like I know whether she'd want to - whether she still-" she sighs. "She only left me because he didn't want to share, but maybe by now she's just over me."

Florence shrugs. "I can't look in her head, Anna, but from the way she looks at you... I think you guys will figure it out."

Anna May nods uncertainty, then frowns again. "And you'd be fine with it, if she's staying here... Indefinitely? I mean, she has a - kid -" she adds with a somewhat perplexed expression on her face, making Florence laugh. She's half of a mind to say 'congrats, you're a step-mom!' but stops herself at the last second. There will be time for that kind of joke when the peace between Anna May and that Scarlet isn't quite so fragile anymore. "Exactly," she instead replies. "So you know Madeleine will be mad at you forever if you let them get away."

Anna May snorts. "She did seem quite... taken by the kid."

Florence nods, frowning a little herself now. "She's always wanted kids, she just accepted that it isn't sensible in our line of work, and that I am not interested in them anyway. Seeing her with Samantha, now I'm wondering..."

"You did nothing wrong," Anna May reassures her. "And fuck, can you imagine having two kids around? It will be bad enough, trying to protect the one from everybody."

Florence sighs and nods. "I suppose. But I'm sure we'll manage. ...are you going to be alright now, or do I have to hide the Whiskey?"

"I'm not a drunk," Anna May replies a little offended, and Florence grins.

"I know you're not, but you sure made a great impression of one earlier!"

Anna May groans, and then she turns back to the counter to refill her waterglass. "Fuck, I'll be so dead tomorrow."

"Sleep in, then. Me 'n Madeleine will make sure Scarlet won't take off before you're awake and had your talk with her."

Anna May nods sharply. Florence smiles and squeezes her arm. "Well, get some sleep. I'll check on Scarlet and Madeleine."

~

Anna May nods again, and Florence sees her lean back against the counter with a deep sigh while she is leaving the kitchen. She really hopes that Anna May will take her advice to heart. Some heartbreak can't be avoided- but the one between her and Scarlet doesn't seem quite so inevitable.

Part 4

@phoenixhalliwell @thesevenwondersofawitch another update, hope you liked it!

If anyone else wants to be tagged for this series, lmk! Not tagging my usual GM tag list in every fic update as that would just be spammy.

Taking prompts!