#Is It Ever Too Late To Save A Marriage Jaw-Dropping Ideas

[archangeldyke-all]

Are your Sevika requests still open? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

I have this idea in my head that I can't get out. I'm not a huge fan of the concept of having kids (not for me!) but I can't help but think of Sevika very slowly changing her attitude and priorities around fighting for the cause because she just found out she's gonna be a dad in the future. Her hesitating around something Silco asks or mentions and her being like "I..I got a kid on the way." Cis or trans Sevika, doesn't matter either way

sevika requests are always open :) and this is the cutest thing i've ever heard.

i don't want kids either, but for sevika?? i'd have so many of her kids that the doctors would have to tell me to stop before my body gives out.

men and minors dni

you and sevika don't want kids. it's not in your plan.

sevika's got a dangerous job. it took years of convincing, years of proving to her that you'd be okay without her, that you want her just as she is now, for her to finally give in and make you hers.

and you're perfectly content.

she works horrible hours and comes home beat up more often than not, but you take the time to patch her up each night, and the two of you spend every free second you have together.

she moved you into her place on your fourth date, and you've been happily living together ever since.

and two years ago, when she shyly shoved a tiny box in your hands and nervously looked away as you opened it, mumbling under her breath a question you could barely make out ('i was wonderin' if you'd like to maybe spend forever with me?') you said yes, with no hesitation.

you guys didn't get married. weddings in zaun are incredibly rare, saved only for the wealthiest, and getting a marriage certificate from piltover for two zaunite women is nearly impossible. but, you had a little ceremony in the last drop (which was really just an excuse to throw a rager) to commemorate your eternal love for one another.

and since then, you've been perfectly happy with your little life.

but, accidents happen.

accidents like sevika swearing she'll pull out, begging to feel you without the condom, then cumming the second she pushes inside of you, whimpering and apologizing and cursing your hot, wet cunt.

accidents like you sleeping through the alarm for your pill.

accidents like sevika forgetting to grab a plan b on the way home, too busy fiddling with the tooth some goon knocked loose in her jaw to remember.

and, usually, these accidents lead to nothing happening. so you and sevika assume it's safe to keep letting them happen.

but then, your period's a week late.

and then two.

and then you take a pregnancy test, and it comes out positive.

and then you take three more, and they're all positive too.

you're paralyzed with shock and fear. you spend the entire day sitting in the bathroom, staring at the positive tests on the counter, crying and laughing, then crying again.

the thing is, you're not opposed to having kids. and now that you know you'll have one in nine months or so, you're fucking elated. but you know sevika doesn't feel the same. and the thought of losing her because of the cells growing inside of you, the thought of having to choose between sevika and the tiny little fucker you're already in love with-- it kills you.

sevika comes home to find you having a panic on the bathroom floor.

"babe, you'll never guess what silco did toda-- what the fuck!?" she exclaims, immediately dropping to her knees and gathering you up in her arms. "baby-- what's wrong? are you hurt?" she asks, grabbing your face in her hands and forcing you to look at her, her eyes flying over your body, checking for injuries. you just cry more, already mourning the loss of her touch that you've grown so used to.

"i-i-i'm sorry." you cry out. sevika blinks at you.

"for what?!" she asks. "baby, you're freaking me out, what's going on?" she asks, panic in her eyes.

you take a shaky breath then reach up to grab one of the tests on the counter behind you, sobbing as you bring it down to hold against your chest.

"i'm sorry, sev, i c-can't-- i don't think i can--"

"what's that?" she asks, gently reaching for your wrist to pull your hand away from your chest.

you gulp and bite your lip as you open your hand, letting her get a good look at the test.

the confusion on her face melts. a stoic look takes its place as she blinks down at the little plus sign on the little plastic test.

you look away from her face, too heartbroken to watch her process the news. tears stream down your face as sevika's hold on your wrist goes shaky, and you prepare yourself for her to pull away.

only, she doesn't.

if you had looked, you'd see the hesitant little smile pulling at the corner of her lips. if you had looked, you'd see the way she gulps like she always does when she's surprised, the tears welling up in her eyes, the way she took a silent gasp as she blinks down at the test in your hands.

you're shocked when she pulls you toward her chest, hugging you tight against her body.

"sev-- don't." you whimper. she blinks down at you.

"what-- whaddya mean 'don't'?" she asks. you take a shaky breath.

"if you're gonna leave just leave-- i can't-- you can't be nice to me, it'll kill me." you say.

sevika's heart breaks.

she's never wanted kids. and you're fine with that.

but the second she saw the test, something happened inside of her, something swirling and giddy and nervous. something kinda like how she feels for you, but a little different. a little deeper, a little less hot and a little more familiar.

everything else in her world fades away. the stories she's been dying to tell you all day, the fire in her heart for zaun, the sounds of drunkards stumbling by your apartment, it all goes silent. it's just you and her, and in that moment, sevika realizes that maybe a kid wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. especially not with you.

sevika kisses your forehead, tears welling up in her eyes at the sound of your muffled sobs.

"i'm not leaving you baby, don't be ridiclious." she says. you cry aloud at her words, wrapping your arms around her back and clawing at her shoulders, trying to pull her impossibly closer to you.

"don't say that." you whisper, shakily.

"i'm not just sayin' it. i mean it. we promised each other through thick and thin, right?" she asks. you nod against her.

"but you don't--"

"i don't care." she says. "i'm a fucking idiot, you know that." she says. you let out a shaky laugh. "i'm not leaving." she says again.

in your first trimester, sevika's still a little hesitant-- still a little distant.

she's not sure how to handle all the emotions in her body, all the love and anxiety swirling up at all times. she puts her energy into making you comfortable, holding you when morning sickness takes hold, stocking up on prenatal vitamins and your favorite snacks, pampering you even more than usual.

this, she can handle. she loves taking care of you, she loves babying you, and with all the anxiety in her mind surrounding the baby, caring for you helps her quell it.

she doesn't talk about the baby much. she's still too nervous to talk about it.

but in your second trimester, you start showing. no longer just a little extra fat on your stomach, your baby's actually visible now. your shirts start riding up your abdomen, a little swell peaking out every time you stretch or move, and she can no longer ignore it-- there's a baby in your belly. and it's hers. and it'll be here soon.

you wake up many nights with gas or aches, and find sevika already awake, a furrow in her brow and her lip between her teeth as she gnaws on it. you ask her what she's thinking about, and she just curls around your body and kisses you back to sleep.

sometimes, you wake up to her hand hesitantly rubbing your belly, like she's scared to touch you. you just rest your hand on top of hers, interlacing your fingers and keeping her hand on your stomach while you both fall back asleep.

if she was better with words, if she had the words to express herself, sevika would tell you that she's scared. she hasn't even met the little fucker yet, and she already loves it more than anything else in her life. it terrifies her, for all the same reasons you do. she has a dangerous job, and second in command to a revolution isn't a suitable job title for a new mom.

sevika knows what it's like to grow up without a parent.

sevika knows what it's like to grow up with a jaded parent, too, someone who's closed their heart off to the world to avoid being hurt, and in turn can no longer love. and she doesn't want to do that to your baby. she doesn't want to do that to you either.

and at work, when she gets in scuffles, or gets a knife drawn on her, or gets shot at, it takes her twice as long to catch her breath.

since meeting you, she's always seen your face flash before her eyes when she dodges a fatal hit. and now, it's ten times worse.

sevika was never scared to die before she met you. and then, seemingly overnight, she became horrified of dying-- scared of what her dying would do to you. she can barely stand seeing you suffer from a headache, the thought of leaving you behind, the thought of breaking your heart like that-- it nearly kills her.

and now she's got a kid to think of too.

so, one late night, sevika approaches silco with a grimace on her face and a case of fancy imported cigars in her hands.

he knows something's up. he's known for months. but he lets her stutter out an explanation as she pushes the case across his desk.

"i-- i think you need to find a new number two." she mumbles. he raises an eyebrow at her.

"second thoughts about the cause?" he asks, flipping open the lid of the case and grinning at the quality.

"no, never." she spits out. silco chuckles and holds a hand up, reassuring her that he was only teasing.

"it's your wife?" he asks. sevika blushes at the word 'wife' like she always does, then looks away.

"no. she's tough, she'd be fine without me." she says fondly. "i..." she gulps then takes a deep breath. "we've got a kid on the way, silco." she whispers.

he freezes, his jaw dropping in shock. sevika never calls him silco, no matter how many times he insists she does. she's serious.

"i didn't take you for the mothering type." he says. she chuckles.

"no, neither did i." she says with a shrug. "but... i'm not mad about it." she says. "i'm... actually really excited." she whispers.

silco laughs, then rises from his seat, rounding his desk to shake sevika's hand. it's the closest to a hug the two of them will ever get.

"you'll be an amazing mother." he says sincerely. she has to blink back tears at his words. "come, let's smoke to celebrate." he says, waving her over to his desk.

the two of them spend the night negotiating a new position in silco's crew for her. she'll stay on as his consultant and strategist, and take on more responsibilities at the legally run bar and club downstairs, but he'll be finding somebody else to take on the more dangerous and criminal aspects of her job.

sevika doesn't tell you for a few weeks, until the change is complete.

she stops coming home with bruises and scrapes. she starts being lot more openly lovey dovey, no longer waiting for the dark of night to place a hand on your stomach, praising you at any chance she can get, even buying parenting books and beginning the 'babyproofing' process.

you don't ask her what's up, knowing she'll tell you in time.

and one day, you get home from work to a home cooked meal and candles on the dinner table.

sevika grins at the sight of you. you fawn at the way she walks you to the table, pulling the chair out for you, pressing kisses to your head and shoulders.

"what's going on?" you ask, giggling as she sits beside you. (she never sits across from you, she can't touch you from the opposite end of the table.)

"i'm in love with you." she says. you laugh.

"we've been married for two years sev, you better be." you say. she laughs, and kisses you again.

"i've never been more excited for my future in my entire life." she says quietly against your lips. tears well up in your eyes as you grab her hand. "we're having a baby." she says reverently, like it's the first time she's finally processing it. you don't tease her for it, you just squeeze her hand in yours and kiss up the tears that race down her cheeks.

"we are."

"and it's gonna be here in three months." she says, a beaming smile on her lips. you smile right back and nod.

"it is."

"i... i want to be the best mother i can be for the little fucker." she whispers, staring down at your stomach. "i want to be the best wife i can be for you." she adds on, her eyes flicking back up to you.

you nod at her, still unsure of where she's going with her conversation.

"and i can't do that if i'm dead." she says. you blink and nod and she sighs. "i talked with silco. we got a new arrangement for me at work." she explains. "just paperwork from here on out." she says. "i'm gonna get all lazy and weak sittin' behind a desk but..." she shrugs. "it's worth it for you two." she says.

you abandon dinner to fuck sevika on the dining room table.

(it's not a big deal though, sevika's never been a good cook, and she tried her best, but the food that grows cold on the table was already burnt and unevenly cooked and so over-seasoned it was basically just a pan of garlic powder.)

silco, surprisingly, is incredibly invested in the little fucker. sevika comes home once or twice a week with a new onsie or toy for the baby, gifted to her by your kid's self-appointed god-father.

by your third trimester, sevika's more excited than you are for the baby to come into the world, which is a hard feat, because you're constantly achy and sore and peeing and bloated and uncomfortable and cursing sev for ever putting her hands on you in the first place. she takes all your complaints in stride, endlessly spoiling you, constantly massaging your feet and tits and shoulders, pressing kisses against all your hormonal acne and strange patches of hair, accompanying you to the bathroom the fifty times you have to go a day.

and when your daughter finally arrives, sevika cries like a baby the first time she holds her.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[jenniferpalmer94]

Is It Ever Too Late To Save A Marriage Jaw-Dropping Ideas

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Save The Marriage Vip Login

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Can Having A Baby Save A Marriage

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[zodiyack]

Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

[writingabouteverything]

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly 

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:)) 

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever. 

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex? 

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish. 

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that. 

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again. 

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle. 

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar. 

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.  

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird. 

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.” 

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.” 

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health. 

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.” 

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have. 

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.” 

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh. 

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.” 

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.” 

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.” 

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible. 

 I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut. 

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” 

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?” 

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach. 

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.” 

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.” 

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.” 

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.” 

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!” 

--

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go. 

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.” 

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.” 

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?” 

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.” 

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black. 

--

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between. 

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.” 

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.” 

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.” 

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.” 

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.” 

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.” 

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.” 

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--” 

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse. 

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.” 

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.” 

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.” 

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.” 

[casifer-is-king]

Private Investigator

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rated: T

Warnings: some language, infidelity.

A/N: This is my first piece of writing in like five years.... I'm gonna warn everyone right now that this is probably not great hahaha. But it was impossible for me to get this idea out of my head and once I started writing it just kind of kept going.... And since it's all written out now, I might as well post it. So if you read this, thank you so very much 🥺💜 This is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

You always gave your husband the benefit of the doubt. Even when all of your friends warned you about their suspicions. So, when it came down to you telling them you weren't going to confront him about anything without proof, they took it to heart and got planning.

That is how you found yourself in a crowded coffee shop during the lunch rush. Your two best friends, Ashley and Erin, sit across from you as you all wait for the Private Investigator that they had found who knows where. Supposedly, though, he was very qualified. And prompt, you noted, as the man you assumed was here to meet you walked up to your table three minutes before the appointed time.

"You must be my 12:30 meeting?" he asks."I'm Frankie Morales."

"It's nice to meet you," Ashley speaks up, then goes around introducing you all.

Frankie shakes hands with each of you before taking the empty seat next to you. In the crowded room, his chair is set close to your side and you can feel the heat of his body next to yours. He's definitely a cute guy you notice, in a rough, outdoorsy kind of way. His hair curls out from under a worn baseball cap and his facial hair is scruffy, but kept short with a patch along his jaw that doesn't seem to grow.

“So how can I help you ladies?” he asks.

“Well it's really for our friend here,” Erin states, gesturing to you. “It's her husband. We are pretty certain he's cheating on her.”

Frankie glances over at you. “Pretty certain, huh?” he asks as the waitress brings a cup of coffee over and places it in front of him. You find yourself suddenly distracted as he tears open two sugar packets with long, deft fingers, then picks up the spoon to stir it in.

Realizing that he's probably waiting for an answer, you feel yourself blush faintly. “They are pretty certain. I just want to be sure either way. I don't have any specific proof that he's cheating,” you say, finally tearing your eyes away from his hands. He's thoughtlessly twisting the spoon between his index finger and thumb. It's somehow entrancing, the way his fingers move.

“But he's definitely pretty shady,” Ashley steps in. “Suddenly he's working long hours at work, coming home late from the bars and claiming he's with his friends. Plus when is the last time he even took you out?”

The question is pointed at you, but you ignore it by looking into your tea cup instead. It had been months since the two of you had gone on a real date. It's something you both enjoyed a lot in the early years of your relationship - going out to a new restaurant every weekend and ordering three course meals just for the fun of it.

"Yeah, I see this shit all the time," he assures, saving you from having to answer. "If he's doing anything he shouldn't be, I'll find out."

Your friends and him discuss his rates and when payment is due before they rush off, both having to get back to work.

"Did you have to get going too?" Frankie asks you when it's just the two of you left at the table.

"Not yet," you reply.

"That's good." He ducks his head a little so you can't see his eyes anymore, "I was wondering if I could ask a few more questions. Like about your husband's schedule and where he likes to spend his time."

“Of course. He works at an architecture company downtown. It used to be a Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 type of job. But the past few months he's been working late, sometimes he's even going in on Saturdays. Says it's some big project and he's expecting a promotion by the end of it.”

Frankie takes note of your husband's workplace on one of the tiny napkins. When he sees that you're watching him, he ducks his eyes from view again. “Forgot my notebook,” he says sheepishly.

You crack a smile at his embarrassment, but don't say anything, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. You continue on like nothing happened. “He goes out with his friends a lot, but he's always been that way. I stopped going with him a while ago. He said it brings their team spirit down when he always has to explain the game to me.”

“Not big into sports?” Frankie asks, and you can detect a bit of teasing in his tone.

“Not even a little bit,” you laugh openly.

Frankie makes a little bullet point on his napkin and writes, ‘X sports,’ on it. “Any specific places your husband goes to watch the games?”

“Usually Sally's, over on 7th street,” you provide.

“Yeah, I know it. They do the karaoke after the game,” Frankie states nonchalantly.

“Yes! That's why we agreed on that bar. I'm a sucker for bad karaoke,” you laugh.

“You should see my friend Pope after he gets a few drinks in him,” Frankie chuckled. “Man can't even sing when he's sober, let alone drunk off his ass.”

“Those are just the best performances, though,” you say with a smile.

“It's definitely something,” Frankie nods with a snort.

Your phone chimes an alarm, alerting you off your next meeting you need to get to. "I'm sorry, I actually do have to go now," you apologize, actually feeling sorry that you had to leave this conversation. Frankie is easy to talk to, and an attentive listener.

"Oh, right. Well maybe I could get your number? Ya know, just in case I have any other questions as I go?" Frankie asks quietly, dipping his head again and fiddling with his long-empty coffee cup.

"Of course!" You agree readily, taking his offered phone and adding your details into his contacts. "And thank you again for doing this. It may end up being nothing, but my friends are very overzealous."

"It's not a problem. Just doing my job. I'll let you know what I come up with either way," Frankie replies with a small smile.

As you walk out together, he holds the door open for you and your turn to him once you both come out onto the sidewalk. "Does it often end up ending well? For people you've looked into in the past..." you ask.

Frankie squints a little and his eyes show flecks of warm caramel in the sunshine. "Not often," he replies finally.

You nod, your heart dropping faintly. His honesty is appreciated though, so you grace him with a small smile. "Thank you again."

You don't hear from Frankie for the next few days, but you do think of him. Especially any time your husband does something that makes your gut do that little tug of dread.

It's five days later that you get a text.

Game night tonight. Did your husband happen to say if he was going out? Frankie asks.

You reply maybe a bit too quickly, of course he is. He's leaving here soon to meet up with the guys.

You feel a little less self conscious when it's barely a second later and Frankie is already typing back. Well let's hope that's where he'll actually be.

He'd never miss a game XD, you reply. Sports are like religion to those guys. So you get to just go to the bar and watch them watch the game? Sounds fun hah.

No one ever said it was a glamorous job, Frankie sends back. But it's always a perk when I can drink and watch some football while I'm at it.

You send back some laughing emojis, and set your phone down to heat up some dinner.

Your husband sweeps through the kitchen, grabbing his keys and jacket. “I'm meeting the guys now,” he says.

“Ok, have a good time,” you reply, turning to face him. He nods, pulling on a hat. “I love you.”

“You too,” he replies briskly, dropping a faint kiss on your forehead and walking out the door.

You sigh, plating your food and wandering back to the living room to watch something on TV while you ate.

Your phone flashes a notification and you look down to see Frankie had sent another text.

How have you been doing? He asks.

As well as can be expected, you text back.

Try not to stress too much. I'll let you know if I find anything out, he replies.

It makes you smile, even if you know there's no way you'll stop stressing at this point.

The weeks went by and texts from Frankie became more frequent. He'd ask a few questions about your husband, then branch off into asking about your day. Those conversations then opened up to you both telling stories about your jobs, which would lead to talking about other aspects of your life. You talked a lot about your pasts - he tells you about how he grew up, some funny and interesting stories from his time in Delta Force, and about his best friend's MMA fights.

You tell him about your family, tell him stories about all the ridiculous people you come across at your job, and do a lot of venting about your crumbling marriage and husband.

You feel bad every time you bring it up, but it's always so much easier to talk to Frankie than it is even Ashley and Erin. At least with him, each of your concerns weren't met with a look of pity and “I told you so,” retort.

The marriage has been spiraling for several months now, and maybe hiring a private investigator was the push you needed to really bring the issues to light. You noticed more often when your husband chose to spend nights out “with the guys” and when he'd go into the other room to check his phone. And when you finally point out the lack of time he spends with you anymore, he gets automatically defensive.

You felt alone in your relationship and it was starting to make you feel bitter. He was definitely hiding something, and you trusted that Frankie would find out for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie had been working this job for a few weeks now. He'd worked a ton of infidelity investigations since he'd lost his pilot license and finally got clean. But this one was different. He wasn't sure what drew him to her, but he couldn't help but want to know her.

Was it professional to text your client every day asking her if Sally from the overnight shift left a pile of work behind for her to deal with for the fourth day in a row? Probably not. But that didn't stop him from trying to glean any little piece of information about her that he could.

He kept it friendly, though, trying not to cross farther from that line between client and something more. But she was a sweet woman, and she had seemed so quiet at that first meeting in the coffee shop. And sad. Like she didn't want to get caught up in the things her friends were saying, but somewhere deep down knew what they were saying was true.

And, dammit, Frankie always had a soft spot for sweet, sad women.

Which is why he is spending his seventh night in a row sitting in his car across the street from her husband's workplace. During their earlier conversation she had mentioned that her husband claimed he was working late tonight. But in the weeks that Frankie had been on this case, the man never worked late once.

Right on time, his target exited the building. He was not alone this time, though, having his arm around a brunette that Frankie recognized as one of his co-workers that he had gone to lunch with a couple times.

Frankie snapped a few pictures of them together, the target’s arm pulling the brunette closer than appropriate, in Frankie's opinion. They both got into his car and Frankie began to follow behind.

Just as they parked at some restaurant across town, Frankie's phone rings and Benny's name lights up the screen.

“Hey,” Frankie greets.

“Dude, where are you?” Benny asks, his voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

“I'm working,” Frankie replied, keeping a close watch as his target is sat conveniently at a window table.

“Come on, Fish, it's Friday night! Will and I are already at the bar drinking.”

Frankie checks the clock and scoffs a bit when he sees it's only 1830. “Sorry, Benny, but I have to work late tonight.”

“You make your own hours. Isn't that why you chose that damned job? So you can decide when you do and don't work. So just decide you can't work tonight and get your ass over here!” Benny all but whines. “What's the deal with this case, Fish? I thought it was a simple cheating husband. You're not usually so obsessive over these ones.”

And leave it to Benny to call him out on his abnormal behavior. “I'm gonna close this case tonight, I have a feeling. Sorry, brother, but I'll see you tomorrow afternoon for practice,” Frankie placates his best friend.

“Sure, ok man. See ya then,” Benny finally gives in.

It's another boring hour of staring at his target before they are finally on the move again. Back to what Frankie assumes is the brunette's house, where they both go inside and Frankie adjusts himself in his seat to find a comfy position for the foreseeable future.

It's another two hours later when the door finally opens and Frankie scrambles to get his camera up, keeping his head down. He hopes for a little luck and is rewarded when both parties enter the doorway and embrace with a final, passionate kiss.

Frankie's camera keeps clicking away, even as his anger continues to rise. He has to hold himself back from throwing himself out of the car and punching his target in the face. He wants to know why her husband would bother with another woman when he has her at home waiting. Wants to know why her husband would throw away everything he has with the sweet woman who was so trusting at the start of all this. But that would definitely be crossing a line, and Frankie has never felt the need to go that far before. So he reins himself and waits until the target has driven away and the brunette has closed the door behind her, before he drives home himself to develop the pictures and complete his paperwork.

Developing pictures at home can be time consuming, but Frankie usually finds comfort in the task. It's a hobby he took up to distract himself from his cravings, and the darkroom usually brings him comfort after particularly stressful days. Tonight, though, watching these images fade onto the photo paper, he is angry. He knows this news is going to crush her, regardless of her suspicions. And while this is usually the case with clients, Frankie isn't sure that he could handle it if you broke down in front of him as some women have in the past.

He's learned so much about her in the past few weeks, from her favorite color to her favorite song when she was 10, and all of these things have endeared her to him in a way no other person has before. And he's opened up to her in return; in a way he hasn't any other woman in his past. But she makes it easy.

It's late when Frankie has finished compiling the file, so he decides not to text her yet and strips down for bed and drifts off, hoping for at least a few hours of restful, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got a text from Frankie late the next morning, hey, dulzura. What are your plans today?

Finally my day off lol, you text back.

Think you could pencil me into your busy schedule? Say in an hour?

Frankie had yet to schedule another meeting, opting to ask any questions he had between texts about their days. With a sinking feeling, you quickly type out, definitely. How about the same café as before?

Sounds good. I'll see you then.

You got ready with a sense of dread. You knew that this meant Frankie had found something. There was that small chance that he came up with nothing in these past few weeks, but the more realistic side of you knew how this would end.

The drive to the coffee shop was short, and the parking lot was thankfully much less crowded than last time. Walking in, you spotted Frankie right away at the same table by the windows. You placed your order before heading over to the table. He was stirring a cup of coffee again, but quickly turned his whole focus toward you as you sag across from him.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Frankie asked. “Your friends couldn't make it?”

“I'm good. It's nice to see you again,” you answered. “I actually didn't tell them. I kinda wanted to find out the truth privately. I'll tell them as soon as I've processed whatever you have to tell me. I'm assuming that's why you wanted to meet? You found what we were looking for?”

Frankie's hand moves to the back of his neck as he gives a slow nod. He pulls a yellow envelope from the chair next to him and places it on the table between you. “Yeah. I have some pictures here.”

You begin to reach out, but stop short before touching the folder. You know if you look now, in the middle of this café, you'll just break down when you see the proof of your husband's affair.

“Please just tell me,” you implore, eyes looking up, but not quite reaching his.

Frankie is quiet for a moment, studying you with his chocolate eyes. Finally he lets out a short sigh and responds, “Andrew's having an affair with a coworker. Looks like it's been around five months.”

The news hits you directly in the chest. It makes it hard to breathe. Knowing it was likely that he was cheating and having picture proof of it are two different things. You feel like it shouldn't hurt this much, but can't help the way your body collapses into itself.

“I know it's not the news you wanted,” Frankie starts, but you cut him off.

“No, but it's what I needed to know. So thank you. I appreciate all the work you put into it. I'm really sorry, but Ashley just went out of town and she won't be back for two weeks. I can get Erin's half of your fee, then get the rest as soon as Ash is back.” You quickly switch to the business end of the meeting, hoping to delay having to come to terms with this new information.

Frankie looks a little whiplashed at the sudden change in topic, but catches up quickly. “It's really not a big deal. I'm not too worried about two weeks. How about we just meet up again once you all have everything together. No stress.”

His hands are fiddling with his coffee cup again, and you focus on them as one index finger absently caresses the handle of the cup, the thumb of his other hand moving up and down the opposite side of it. You're caught off guard again by the movement of his fingers. It's sensual, how his large hands and long fingers massage the warm ceramic.

You're distracted from your observation of those hands when the barista sets your to-go tea in front of you. Finally looking up again, you see Frankie's brows have pinched together, forming a little worry line between them.

“I'll get it to you as soon as possible,” you finally fall back into conversation.

“That's fine. Really, don't stress about it,” Frankie reiterates.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask softly after a brief pause.

“Of course, hermosa.”

“Why did you become a private investigator?”

The question catches Frankie off guard for a second time; you can tell by the subtle widening of his eyes followed by a brief knitting of his brows. Then he quickly hides his eyes behind the bill of his baseball cap, feigning stirring his coffee a couple times. Not used to being able to see his face when the two of you have conversations, you realized he's actually quite expressive. He must know it too, because you note his hidden eyes as something you'd seen him do the first time you met him.

“You don't have to tell me,” you extended a way out for him, noting his sudden discomfort.

“No, it's fine. Um, remember when I told you before how I moved on from being a pilot to this?” At your nod, Frankie continued on slowly, like he was forming each word in his head twice before speaking it. “Well, it was less that I moved on and more that I lost my license. Uh, addiction issues. I know how that sounds! But I swear I'm clean now and -”

You can sense Frankie spiraling, so you impulsively reach out and place one of your hands on his large one. “You don't have to plead your case with me, Frankie. I'm not judging you.”

Frankie freezes momentarily, then relaxes. You feel one of his long fingers twitch on the tabletop under yours and quickly remove your hand. There's a little sigh from him before he continues, “well, anyway, this was kinda just something that fell in my lap. My friend, Ironhead, works with enlisted still and heard it's pretty easy to get into if you have the background and patience for sittin’ around and waiting. Well, I had the experience with my past in Delta Force, figured the patients would come along as I go. Never did like surveillance gigs.”

The last sentence seems like an afterthought, but you catch the mild disdain in his voice and it makes you smile to see the man in front of you sounding so petulant. “Ok, but Ironhead is an interesting name,” you comment.

Frankie huffed a laugh. “His call-sign actually. Most of us had one on my squad.”

“Oh really? And what was yours?”

“Catfish,” Frankie responds immediately.

“Catfish?” You repeat. “Where did that one come from?” you laugh a little bit.

“And that's a story for a different day,” Frankie responds with a laugh of his own.

After another small pause, your eyes drift back down to the inconspicuous envelope sitting on the table in front of you. With another small smile and a nod, you reach for the envelope. “I better get going. Lots of errands to get through on my day off.” It's a lie, but you figure a swift exit is necessary in this moment.

Frankie nods, then shifts his hat to run a hand through his already messy curls. Hat back in place, he stands and gestures that he'll walk you out.

Back outside, in the bright afternoon sun, Frankie looks down at you as he walks you all the way to your car. His eyes are caramel again, but they hold a bit of something akin to sadness in them. He drops his head, those eyes disappearing behind the bill of his cap, and slides his hands into his pockets, shoulders curving inward. “I really am sorry,” he begins. “I had hoped it would be different this time. You deserve better than some cabrón who can't see that he already has something great right in front of him.”

Frankie sounds so sincere that it stops you short. You look up at him as he peeks from under his hat. His mouth is twisted into a frown under his mustache. And that's all it takes for your eyes to begin to fill with tears.

In an instant, Frankie's arms are around you. He doesn't hesitate to pull you into a loose hug. One you could easily step away from if you had the care to do so. Instead, you step forward and accept the comfort. In a second, his arms close around you tighter and you're wrapped in his warmth, face pressed into his brown jacket. Trying not to fall apart right here in the parking lot, you catalog how his arms feel around you, and how warm his chest is.

His jacket smells like an auto garage, faintly like oil, but his shirt underneath smells woodsy - probably whatever cologne he sprayed on this morning - and, underneath that, clean like fresh linen. It's a comforting scent, and you breathe it in for a second longer than probably necessary before you finally lean back. He drops his arms immediately and takes half a step back.

“I am so sorry,” you apologize instantly.

“No, don't be. You have no reason to be. Just, um, get home safe ok?” That worry line is present between his eyes again. “Text me when you get home.”

“I'll be ok,” you assure him. You climb into your car and allow him to close the door gently for you. He steps back and gives a tiny wave before he turns and walks over to his own truck.

The drive home is a bit of a blur. You call Erin and Ashley on the way to tell them the news. Erin is instantly in her car and on her way over. “We are gonna change the locks and have ourselves a movie night,” she proclaims.

Ashley frets over not being there, but you assure her you're okay and she should enjoy her vacation. You only called because she'd freak if you told Erin before her.

Erin gets to your house 30 minutes later with a box of cheap wine and a bag full of snacks. You talk her out of changing the locks, but it doesn't matter either way because when you text Andrew to tell him you're having a girls night he tells you he's going to be out late anyway and not to wait up.

Your heart drops the way it always does when you suspect a lie. This time, though, it's not just speculation. You have the proof right in front of you, in an unopened manila envelope partially covered in chip bags.

“So is that them?” Erin speaks, noticing your gaze on the offending envelope.

“I guess so. Pictures and proof of my husband's affair with some front desk girl at his office.” Your tone is mild, but you feel a pressure building behind your eyes once more and that crushing weight settling over your sternum.

“Have you looked yet?” Erin asked.

“Nope.”

“Are you gonna?”

“We can open them together,” you suggest.

But before she can answer, your phone beeps to alert you that you got a new text message.

Hey, bonita, is everything ok? You never texted me… You safe?

His words bring a small smile to your face. Frankie always has a way of making you feel like he truly cares. Checking in often, but never overstepping into being overbearing. It's a warm welcome compared to the icy breeze of you and your husband's cohabitation of the same home, but never really living together.

You type out, yes. Sorry. Erin insisted on a girls night, and hit send.

That's good. Did she bring the salsa verde doritos?

Your smile grows at the mention of your favorite chips. Of course he'd remember something as silly as that. Frankie had a knack for remembering little details. Things you sometimes even forgot to had ever mentioned he would bring up weeks later in a random conversation. It's probably just a Frankie Morales thing, but it still always made you feel just a little special that he remembered such details.

“What has you suddenly shining like the sun?” Erin questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you know you're blushing, but you try to play it cool. “Just Frankie checking in. Making sure you're taking care of me.”

“Um, of course I'm taking care of you! Who else is gonna do it?” Erin jokes, pushing your shoulder teasingly. “Unless Mr. Morales was trying to volunteer for the job?”

“He's just being kind,” you roll your eyes at Erin's implication. “He's been very supportive through this whole thing.”

“Supportive, huh? And what kind of support might he be offering?” In a swift motion your phone is suddenly in your best friends hands and she's danced off to the other side of the room. Ignoring your protests and attempts to claim back your property, she starts swiping through weeks of conversation between you and Frankie. “Holy shit! Have you two even stopped talking since you met?”

“Come on, Erin,” you beg, “he’s just been asking for more information for his investigation and making sure I'm okay.”

“Two days ago you told him about the goldfish you got in college that died within the week. Was that pertinent information to his investigation?”

Seizing an opportunity, you snatched your phone back, clutching it to your chest. “Shouldn't you be trying to cheer me up?”

“Looks like your new bestie Frankie should be here instead,” she snarks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh shut it and pour me some wine,” you reply with an exaggerated eye roll.

While your friend is busy you quickly type out a response to Frankie. She's pretty much the worst. Brought bbq instead even though she knows I hate them.

Frankie's reply is quick, or maybe that's why she brought them. So she wouldn't have to share with you, avara.

I don't know what you just called me, but I know I'm offended.

Frankie's reply is a long string of laughing emojis.

With the photos forgotten, you let Erin put on some 80’s movie and tried your best to enjoy the night. The envelope would still be there tomorrow, so for tonight you just relax.

It will probably be the last time you'll be able to in a while anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie hasn't heard from her in a few days. She doesn't text as often and it doesn't feel like his place to bother her.

Today, though, he woke up late after being out late on a surveillance job to a text from her. I'm kicking him out. I can't stand to live here with him anymore. I just want him gone and out of my life.

Squinting down at the bright screen if his phone, Frankie replies, is there anything I can do for you, bonita?

Recommend me a great divorce lawyer? Is her response. He knows it's sarcasm, but he shoots her a list of a few lawyers he knows of and trusts anyway.

Frankie was glad she wasn't going to stick around with the bastard. He'd seen that enough times to know it never works out anyway, and always makes things worse in the end.

You're amazing Frankie. Thank you for everything. I also have your payment in full btw. Do you have time this weekend to meet and grab it?

You really don't need to thank me, dulzura. I just want to help. This Sunday is good for me. At the café?

Her reply takes a little longer this time, so Frankie finally drags himself out of bed. A quick look at the time tells him he barely has time for a shower before he has to meet Ironhead and Benny for their planned fishing trip. Once Frankie is back, she had finally replied with a simple, yes.

She had rarely been short in her texts before, and it made Frankie's stomach sink a little. Shooting off a quick, let me know if there's anything you need, he pockets the phone and heads out.

A few more days pass with minimal texts. Frankie makes a point to text at least once a day. Maybe it's intrusive, but she never complains about it. And, if he's honest with himself, he misses her too much to stop now.

He realizes that she has become a fixture in his life. Going from texting multiple times throughout the day to barely a good morning text over his morning coffee makes him twitchy and he feels like he's always wondering what she's doing.

Sunday finally comes and Frankie is at the café ten minutes early, ready to finally see her in person. Ready to hold a conversation with her, even if only for a moment. But the ten minutes pass, then another ten and his leg starts to bounce under the table. She's never been late before, and Frankie checks his phone for a 20th time to make sure she hasn't texted to tell him she's had a change of plans. He decides to shoot her a text himself to make sure she didn't forget about their meeting.

Twenty more minutes with no response to his text and Frankie is back in his truck. He's already talked himself out of driving to her house and just knocking on the door several times. But as his truck rumbles to life and he exits the parking lot, he ends up turning left instead of right. Going to her house would be viewed as crossing some line in Frankie's eyes. He's never gone to a clients home without invitation before. Generally it's best to go about as if you don't even have that information, just to keep people from getting creeped out.

Frankie justifies his actions now by telling himself he just needs to see that she's okay. That her not showing up is abnormal and thus deserving of investigation.

When he pulls up to the curb across from her house, he notes the two cars in the driveway. His heart drops as he sees that one of them is her husband’s, parked neatly behind hers. Frankie knows she had told him she was kicking Andrew out, but his heart drops as he realizes maybe she had reconciled with him and he moved back. Frankie wonders if that's why she had been so distant lately.

He's about to just pull away when he notices the front door open and there she is. She has her arms full of boxes which she unceremoniously drops onto the sidewalk outside. She looks frazzled, but unharmed, Frankie takes a mental note. But she's yelling back into the house, her face red with anger.

Andrew shows himself in that moment, coming outside to scream something in her face. In the next moment, he's grabbing her roughly by the arm and trying to force her back into the house.

Frankie is out of his truck before he really has time to think. He's across the street and reaching them with quick, efficient steps in only a moment, which causes a pause in the fighting for a second. Frankie takes advantage of their confusion to gently pull her away from Andrew's loosened grip and moving her so that he is between the fighting couple.

Andrew, for his part, still has a look of surprise that has rendered him frozen in his spot. Whether that's from the way Frankie had barged into the situation or the pure anger that is radiating off Frankie's body, it's hard to say. But it gives Frankie the window he needs to pull back his fist and firmly plant it into Andrew's nose. Frankie hears the snap and feels the familiar give of a nose breaking under his knuckles.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he growls. “And I suggest not coming back around. Don't come near her, don't call her, don't even think about her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Andrew has run off, finally taking the remainder of his belongings with him, you're left alone with an angry Frankie, his fists still clenched and his shoulders tense.

Honestly, he's sexy as hell and you definitely notice. Anybody would be blind not to, you think to yourself.

You usher him inside, through to your kitchen, and pour two glasses of whiskey, sliding one over to him.

“I'm sorry I barged in,” Frankie apologizes after he takes a large gulp of his drink. “I didn't hear from you today and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Shit, your money! I am so sorry.”

“It's fine, hermosa. I'm not worried about the money. I was worried about you.”

His declaration freezes both of you for a moment, before you lift your own cup to your lips and take a sizable sip.

“He was supposed to come by while I was out today, but he showed up early. I guess he's been trying to get ahold of me,” you finally break the silence.

“You guess?” Frankie repeats back.

“Well, I blocked his number cuz I got tired of his constant calls and texts. He thinks I'm being irrational and we should work this out. But I've also heard that he's been staying with his side piece ever since I kicked him out, so….”

Frankie shoots back the rest of his alcohol. “I can get you paperwork for a restraining order,” he offers.

You smile at that because of course Frankie would offer you more help. “I think you already did enough for me,” you reply.

Frankie's hand goes to the back of his neck and his head dips low, “I shouldn't have hit him. That's just gonna cause you more trouble.”

“Don't worry about that,” you chastise gently. “He got what was coming to him and he knows it. It's just that, you have done a lot for me in general these past few weeks. A lot more than I think I can pay you back for.” Speaking of which, you turn to your purse on the counter, digging through it to pull out the check written out to Frankie.

“Maybe you can pay me back with dinner,” Frankie aims for nonchalants.

It draws a breathy laugh from your throat. “It would take a lot of dinners to cover your fee.”

“Well, we could start with one and see where it goes from there.”

✨✨Part 2✨✨

[stiltonbasket]

chancellor of the morning sun: burdens, mingjue (youth)

In which being a woman in the cultivation world is difficult, and Nie Mingjue comforts a friend.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | | Part 8 | Part 9 | AO3

On the night after the welcoming banquet, Nie Mingjue wakes to the sound of someone crying outside his door. 

This was by no means unusual when he was younger; Huaisang often had night terrors after his mother died, and refused to sleep without Nie Mingjue for the next three or four years. But A-Sang is thirteen now, far too old to come crying to his da-ge after dark, and the person on the other side of his door seems to be a woman. 

“Who’s there?” he calls, lighting one of his dream lanterns before getting out of bed. “A-Sang, is that you?”

“No, it’s me!” a familiar voice shouts, nearly sending Nie Mingjue to the ground as he scrambles to keep his footing. “A-Jue, let me in!”

Nie Mingjue drops his lantern and tries not to panic. The crying is still going on, but the person who called his name was Lan Xichen, without a doubt; and if she had come to his chambers this late, with the Unclean Realm full of foreign cultivators who would gladly take any chance to see her reputation ruined, then she must have come to seek his help with some kind of emergency.

And Nie Mingjue has not forgotten that the son of his father’s murderer is sleeping under his roof, or that Wen Ruohan openly sought Xichen’s hand in marriage for Wen Xu, and would have forced the two to meet if Nie Mingjue’s own fuqin had not intervened.

“I’m coming!” he says frantically, throwing the door open and grasping Lan Xichen’s arm the moment she crosses the threshold. “Lan Huan, I’m—”

And then he looks over Lan Xichen’s shoulder, blinking at the miserable line of young maidens trailing down the corridor behind her. Jiang Yanli is standing at Xichen’s side, crying into her sleeves, and Qin Su and Jin Zixuan’s first shimei are there, too; and Wen Ruohan’s young niece is standing in the back, holding Qin Su’s arm to keep her from falling over. All five girls smell of liquor, even Xichen, and Nie Mingjue gapes at them in bewilderment as Xichen fists her hands in his tunic and shakes him from side to side.

“Jiang-jie won’t listen to us!” she complains, sobbing drunkenly into his chest: which sets Jiang Yanli off again, and then Luo Qingyang starts weeping, too. “A-Jue, tell her!”’

Mingjue frowns. “Tell her what, A-Huan?” he says gently, wiping his intended’s face. It will be ruin for them both if anyone spots her here in the middle of the night, let alone with four other girls in front of his private quarters, but Nie Mingjue would rather cut his own hands off than turn the girl he loves away in such distress. “What’s wrong?”

“Jiang-guniang thinks she’s not worthy of Zixuan,” Luo Qingyang wails. “But just look at him! He prances around like a prize stallion, and he keeps making a fool of himself everywhere he goes! It’s pathetic! And he keeps talking about how wonderful he is, almost as much as Zixun! Nie-zongzhu, I have to beat him up twice a month to keep him in line, and it’s not even working!”

“Not worthy of Jin Zixuan?” he snorts. “Jiang-guniang, it’s Jin-gongzi who isn’t worthy of you. A-Huan, didn’t you tell her so?”

Jiang Yanli only cries even harder, and Xichen gives him a reproachful look and pinches his stubbly cheek. “She won’t listen to us when we tell her she’s more than enough. Yanli thinks we have to say so, since we’re her friends, so I brought her to you so you could tell her instead!”

“Jin-gongzi should count himself lucky that a maiden like Lady Jiang would give him the time of day,” Nie Mingjue says promptly. “He’ll get over himself in time, and Luo-guniang will beat him into the ground if he doesn’t. Right, Luo-guniang?”

Luo Qingyang nods fervently before listing straight into one of the walls. “I will!” she yells, as Wen Qing reaches over and puts her back on her feet again. “‘N then I’ll put itching powder in Jin Zixun’s pants, and, and…”

“Steal his wine again,” Qin Su suggests, letting out a loud burp. “That peach-blossom brew was delicious. Don’t you feel any better after drinking it, A-Li?”

“No, I don’t,” Jiang Yanli murmurs. “Good night, Nie-zongzhu. I’m going back to bed now.”

“Yanli!” begs Xichen, throwing herself at the shorter girl and almost knocking both of them backwards onto the floor. “Yanli, don’t go! You’re worth a hundred of Jin-zongzi, you—A-Jue, help!”

“What am I supposed to say?” he asks, thoroughly bewildered. “I can go challenge Jin-gongzi to a duel myself, if you like. Would that cheer you up, Jiang-guniang!”

But to his surprise, Jiang Yanli only goes to her knees and trembles like a kitten left out in the cold, sobbing about her fears for her future at Koi Tower and her dread of being bound to a man who will never respect her, her terror at the prospect of having no allies past her wedding day save for her mother-in-law, and then about having to spend the rest of her life within reach of Jin Guangshan. 

“Mother keeps telling me that I should try to do better, so that Jin-gongzi likes me,” she chokes. “And one of my Yu aunties told me once that Jin-gongzi has to like me, since that’s going to be the only thing keeping me safe from—from—”

“Why haven’t you spoken to your parents about this?” Nie Mingjue demands, aghast. He knows very little about how his own engagement was settled on Xichen’s side; but not long after his ascension, he discovered that neither she nor her uncle were consulted on the matter, and that the sect elders only informed Lan Qiren of his niece’s engagement after the betrothal papers were sealed and signed and the bride price was already paid. 

Nie Mingjue’s father made the agreement believing that Lan Qiren was amenable, and would have dissolved the betrothal in a heartbeat if Lan Xichen ever said she was unhappy with it—even in the months just before his death, when his greatest regret was that he would likely not live long enough to see his grandchildren. But he never disapproved of Lan Xichen’s decision to remain unwed until Wangji was at least eighteen, though the wedding was originally set to take place just after Xichen turned eighteen, and he would even have accepted a divorce if his daughter-in-law initiated it. 

And Jiang Fengmian is widely known to dote upon his daughter, just as Nie Mingjue’s father doted on Lan Xichen, so why would he not offer the same choice to his child that Nie Huangyin gave to A-Huan?

“Father would break the engagement if I asked, but Jin-furen is mother’s best friend,” Jiang Yanli weeps, in answer to Nie Mingjue’s unspoken question. “It would make things so difficult between them if Jin-furen ever knew I felt this way. And A-Xian and A-Cheng already hate the idea of me marrying into Lanling, Nie-zongzhu. It would be so much worse for them both if they found out I was afraid.”

“It is better out now, than ten years from now, when you are wedded into that house and bound there by a husband and children,” Nie Mingjue says somberly. “Jin Zixuan is not a bad sort, but if he can look upon a maiden who spends her days tending to her family and teaching in orphanages and finding apprenticeships for street children, and call such a girl unworthy because of her looks and low cultivation—then he is not worthy of any wife, let alone one like you, and I pray he will come to recognize it without some great tragedy to bring him to his senses.”

“But—”

“If A-Huan were to lose her cultivation, I would still count myself as the luckiest man in the world to be her husband,” he declares. “And if she were not beautiful, that would be nothing to me. Whatever the strength of her golden core, and whatever she looks like—her heart has nothing to do with either her face or her jindan, and I love her for that above all things.”

Jiang Yanli’s jaw drops open, and she stares up at Nie Mingjue in open disbelief. Xichen is far too drunk to register what he just said, and Wen Qing seems to have stuffed bits of cloth into her ears to keep herself from listening to anything Jiang-guniang would not have confided while sober—but the word love still burns on his lips like the hot filling from Lan Xichen’s sweet bean cakes, flooding through every inch of his body until he can think of nothing else, and he spends a good two minutes in a kind of stricken trance before wondering if saying such a thing before Maiden Jiang might have hurt her feelings.

“It didn’t,” she says softly—because apparently, Nie Mingjue said that last aloud. “I think I see now, Nie-zongzhu.”

Nie Mingjue opens his mouth to ask what she means, but a small purple blur interrupts him before he can get the words out. The blur skids around the nearest corner, screeching in indignation at the sight of Yanli’s tearstained face, and then it turns upon Nie Mingjue and demands an explanation. 

“What did you say to my Shijie?” Wei Wuxian cries. “Shijie, did he bully you?”

“Silly A-Xian,” Jiang-guniang smiles, ruffling Wei Wuxian’s hair. “Nobody bullied me, but Nie-zongzhu made me feel much better.”

“By making you cry?” Wei Wuxian says doubtfully. “Should I get Suibian?”

“A-Xian, no!” Jiang Yanli is giggling now, kissing her brother all over his puffy cheeks. “Come on, let’s go back.”

Wei Wuxian drags her off down the hallway, casting suspicious glances over his shoulder, and Wen Qing charges herself with the duty of escorting Luo Qingyang and Maiden Qin back to their own quarters. However, she declares in no uncertain terms that managing three drunk girls is beyond her, and that leaves only Nie Mingjue to look after Lan Xichen. 

“Your uncle’s going to kill me if he finds us,” he whimpers, as he struggles up a flight of stairs with his betrothed yawning in his arms. “And then A-Sang will spend the rest of his life on birds and fans, and never catch up with his lessons in time to attend your clan lectures.”

“Shufu likes you,” Xichen assures him, patting the tip of his nose. “He would never do such a thing.”

“He would if he thought I’d been improper towards you,” Nie Mingjue groans. “A-Huan, have you had anything to eat after you started drinking?”

“Mm, A-Su brought snacks. And Wen Qing kept slipping headache medicine into my wine.”

Nie Mingjue sighs in relief and hugs her a little tighter. “Good. Will you try to drink a little water after we get back to your room?”

Xichen nods drowsily, nearly stopping Nie Mingjue’s heart as she nuzzles against his shoulder, but he manages to get her up to her bedroom in one piece and helps her get into bed, making sure she lies on her side to prevent choking in the morning. He also puts a few pieces of rice candy on her nightstand since he always carries a handful in his pocket for Huaisang, and fetches a glass of water for her to drink when she wakes. 

Lan Huan is fast asleep by then, breathing quietly in her nest of blankets with her hand tucked under her cheek, and Nie Mingjue makes it as far as the door before remembering that she is still too drunk to be left alone.

But she doesn’t have a maidservant, Nie Mingjue thinks desperately, staring wildly out of the room as if one might climb out of the nearest cupboard. And Wangji didn’t come along this time, and I can’t wake Lan Qiren—

Oh, no.

Oh, this is very bad. 

Anything could happen to Lan Xichen with so much alcohol in her blood, and she might even stop breathing during the night and smother. But there is no one to fetch except for Lan-xiansheng, and that means Nie Mingjue will have to stay with her until she wakes. And given the fact that Lan Qiren will be looking for his niece by mao hour tomorrow, while Lan Xichen will probably sleep a shichen longer than usual—

Nie Mingjue sinks down beside the bed and puts his head in his hands. 

Well, that settles it, he despairs, pulling the thick blankets away from Xichen’s face. Lan Qiren is definitely going to kill me. 

But he would be lying if he said that the sight of Xichen’s peaceful face was unworthy of death by uncle-in-law, so Nie Mingjue accepts his demise with grace and starts planning his funeral instead.

___

When Lan Xichen opens her eyes, the first thing she notices is the dull pain in her head. 

The second thing she notices (after gulping down the water and candy on the nightstand) is that someone seems to have left a heap of something dark near her bed; probably a bag, or a pile of clothes, though she can’t see well enough to tell what it could be. 

And the last thing is that her uncle is sitting on a chair by the door, tapping his foot loudly enough to make her head pound. 

“Shufu,” she croaks, struggling upright with the aid of one of her pillows. “What are you—”

“Disciples of the Lan clan must not consume alcohol,” he says, strangely calm despite the enormity of her transgression. Her clothes still smell like Baling mead, sweet and spicy and fruity all at once, and she nearly dies of shame at the thought of how shocked Shufu must have been when he found her. “They must not go out of doors after haishi. And they must never share chambers with any member of the opposite sex to whom they are not married, unless they are a relative.”

Lan Xichen freezes. “What?”

“Should I not be asking you that?” her uncle reminds her. “What is Nie-zongzhu doing in your bedchamber?”

Thunderstruck, Lan Xichen stumbles out of bed and stares at the dark heap on the floor, which yawns at her touch and stretches like a cat before springing up in horror. 

“Lan-xiansheng, it’s not what it looks like!” Nie Mingjue cries, making Lan Xichen shrivel at the memory of how shamefully she must have behaved last night. “I only wanted to make sure Xichen was safe, I would never—”

“And you did not think of waking me?” Lan Qiren lifts his eyebrows at them. “Even if you wanted to ensure that my niece was well, how could you risk being seen leaving her rooms in the morning? My own quarters are just on the other side of the hall.”

Mingjue ducks his head in shame, and Lan Xichen suddenly wants nothing more than the comfort of his hand in hers. “I didn’t want her to get in trouble, xiansheng,” he mumbles. “She only came out last night for someone else’s sake, and I couldn’t have borne to see her unhappy just for that.”

“You are a sect leader, Nie Mingjue. Don’t look down when you speak to me,” Shufu scolds. “As it is, I am glad that you did not leave her. But as her uncle, I must order you to go now before the breakfast bell, lest you ruin both of your reputations at once and force her to marry before she is ready.”

Mingjue takes the hint and flees, leaving Xichen and her uncle alone. Shufu says nothing more for a while, merely studying the ceiling as if the laws of the Lan sect were inscribed there, and then he clears his throat and points to the stack of parchment on her desk.

“Copy each precept you broke, a hundred times each. The tenth, eighteenth, and seventy-first laws. Go.”

And then, after a moment’s lull:

“I think he will be a good father someday, A-Huan,” Lan Qiren reflects. “Your little ones will want for nothing, what with how he cares for you and how much he coddles Huaisang. I could not have found you a better husband if I chose for you myself.”

Lan Xichen drops her paintbrush.

“Shufu!”

[rhysismydaddy]

365 Days: Part 3 (Feysand)

Alrighty, then! Here’s the last part of the Feysand mob fic. When I started this fic, it wasn’t really going to be like this, but I need a laugh because the world’s a shithole. 

I’m releasing a couple oneshots because multichapter fics take it out of me, so send asks/requests if you want something specific or a certain troupe

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist 

________________________________________________________________

Day 14, 8:19 AM

~Feyre~

Feyre looked down at the man sleeping next to her and grinned at how peaceful he looked. Why are men so damn attractive when they’re asleep? 

She was hardly ever awake before him, so she took advantage of the situation and studied his face. 

That full, sarcastic mouth was curved into a soft smile, his hair was shooting in all directions from where she’d pulled on it last night, and there was a light dusting of stubble on his jaw. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Not to mention the fact that he was naked. 

She brushed his hair back from his forehead, and he leaned into her touch. 

“Stop staring at me,” he murmured.

Feyre shook her head, and even though his eyes were closed, he smiled. He tried to say Come here but was apparently too tired. “Commere, baby.”

Her chest constricted painfully at how soft, how sweet he was with her. The world was convinced he was Satan in disguise, but they never saw sleepy Satan.

And sleepy Satan melted her fucking heart. 

Scooting down further in the bed, she wrapped herself in his arms, her hands running over the smooth skin of his back. He made a deep humming sound that made her grin. 

Rhysand was warm against her, the smooth muscles of his arms somehow more of a home to her than the house they were in. 

Today was only the thirteenth day of their marriage, but she already felt like he was her home. She felt... too much. She’d never been this torn up about anyone in her life.

And she had no idea if he felt the same way. 

She was confused. They were already married, but besides being cuddly in the morning, didn’t make a whole lot of indication of potential feelings.

Granted, they had a ton of sex, which should be an indicator, but it wasn’t always what Feyre would call “making love.”  

Sometimes it was; sometimes he was sweet and tender and so slow it made her eyes cross. But other times his grip on himself would slip a little and he’d make her beg, then scream, then mumble all kinds of nonsense. 

He made her entire body come alive, took her on dates, made her feel special... but didn’t tell her how he felt. 

And Feyre really, really wanted to know. 

She poked his forehead, then his cheek, laughing when he tried to bite her finger. “Wake up. I want to know something.”

“Something tells me to stay asleep.”

Feyre smacked his forehead, and he laughed, fully awake now. 

He rolled them over, pulling her on top of him, and looked up at her with a smile. “What do you want to know, Feyre darling?”

Part of her begged her not to voice the question, but she gathered her courage and ignored it. “Is this a real marriage to you or is it still just a publicity save?”

His eyes widened slightly, body going a little stiff. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to know. And you don’t exactly volunteer information.”

“That’s not true,” he said, trying to change the subject. She shook her head, silently telling him to answer the question. He gripped her shoulders, sliding her off his chest, and sat up. “I don’t see why it matters. We’re married. I’m not miserable.”

His tone was tight, eyes anywhere other than her face.

It took a few moments for his words to sink in, but once they did, it was like they were tattooed on her brain.

Not miserable. 

Not miserable??

Feyre laughed humorlessly and covered herself with the sheet, practically ripping it off the bed. “Okay. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

Then she marched into the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and started the shower. She was so...

She didn’t know what she was.

Confused. Upset. Pissed. 

Embarrassed.

She’d started to rely on this man’s company, started to develop feelings for him, and all he could say is that she doesn’t make him miserable? Is he serious? 

She scrubbed her face, and the pissed part of her feelings started to take over. 

Of course I don’t make him miserable! I sleep with him! Who the hell would have a problem? 

She laughed again, mind spinning with possibilities. Oh, miserable isn’t even a word for what I’m going to do to you.

Day 16, 6:46 PM

~Rhysand~

There was something wrong with his wife.

Not in the traditional sense. Physically, she was perfect. More than perfect. 

But emotionally? There was something wrong. 

For the past few days, Feyre had been driving him fucking crazy. 

She avoided him almost all the time, which was mildly impressive, considering they lived together. 

She still slept in the same bed as him, but she practically hung off the edge trying to not touch him. And she came in well after he was asleep. 

Plus, everything he said seemed to be the wrong thing. He said something nice, she told him to fuck off. He tried to joke, she just sighed. He tried to bait her into a fight, she stared out the window. 

It was driving him insane.

The wonderful, sarcastic woman he’d once known had been eaten alive by a harsh little beast whose sole purpose in life was to irritate him.

And he wanted her back.

After last night, he doubted it would be easy. 

He may or may not have lost his cool. To be fair, it was completely her fault. 

He’d come home after a long day, trying to subtly hide the blood on the cuff of his shirt, and had almost thrown something when his once-lovely wife said casually, “I got asked on a date today.”

“By who?” 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s exceptionally handsome, though.” She’d leveled a look at him. “I think I’ll go.”

To say he’d seen red would have been an understatement. “You go on any sort of date with another man, and I’ll string him up from the fucking rafters.”

She’d just laughed, flipped him off, and taken a swig straight from a bottle of wine, muttering about being miserable. 

Rhysand sighed, leaning on his desk. He was in one of his offices downtown, looking over financial reports, and even though they good reports, he couldn’t focus. 

The only thing he wanted to do right now was track his damned wife down and find out what he’d done to piss her off. 

The last time he remembered having the normal Feyre around was a couple of days ago, when they’d been laying in bed, talking about-

Realization dawns over him, and he leans forward to smack his head against his desk.

I am so fucking stupid. 

She’d asked what the marriage meant to him, and instead of telling her the truth, he’d said... what had he said? I don’t see why it matters. 

Ah, shit.

Then he’d probably made matters a hundred times worse and told her he wasn’t miserable.

He had to fix this. Now.

After slapping himself a couple times, Rhys jogged down to his car and sped home. 

By the time he got home, he had a whole speech planned. A nice apology. A confession. 

But when he pulled into the driveway and tried to go in the front door, the lock wouldn’t budge. His key didn’t even fit in the hole. Which didn’t make sense, considering-

Holy shit.

She changed the locks.

His jaw was so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if a tooth popped free. He’d been locked out of his own house. By his wife.

The sweet little apology he’d rehearsed went straight out the window. 

He got out one of his knifes and went to work on the lock. And deadbolt. 

It took a few minutes, but he eventually jimmied the door open and marched inside, adrenaline coursing through his body. 

He stomped all over the house before spotting her in the backyard, sitting on a chair next to the pool, reading a book. 

And smiling.

Something about the genuine happiness on her face--probably from locking him out--drove him up the fucking wall.

He threw the doors open and said, “Hello, wife.”

“Rhysand,” she sighed, smile dropping off her face. “You’re home. How wonderful.”

“Sorry I’m late. My key didn’t work.” 

She tilted her head, biting her lip. “I changed the locks. Didn’t feel safe. Something about living with a criminal will do that to a woman, I guess.”

“You are the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met,” he said, and she shot out of her chair to start pacing in front of him. 

“Oh?” she yelled back, shoving his shoulder. “That’s so upsetting! Let me have a moment to cry about how miserable you’ve become!”

He gave into anger and growled back, “You know, I didn’t know I married a goddamn psycho-”

He was cut off by her tiny, beautiful hand slamming into his face. He jerked back, more in surprise than hurt, and looked at her head to toe.

Even now, when he was two seconds from strangling her, he couldn’t stop from thinking about how beautiful she was.

She swung again, and he stepped back. Then made a mistake.

He laughed. 

Feyre’s blue eyes looked like frost as she narrowed them, then put her hands on his chest, growled, and shoved him straight in the pool.

Unfortunately for him, he liked this suit and was about to ruin it.

Unfortunately for her, he had quick reflexes and dragged her with him.

As soon as they hit the water, his wife was pushing on his head, seemingly trying to drown him. 

He grabbed her wrists in one hand, waist in another, and threw her halfway across the pool. 

“Stop trying to kill me,” he yelled at Feyre, who was already swimming back towards him with a dangerous look in her eyes. 

She refrained and didn’t try to drown him again, but she splashed water in his face and shouted, “I cannot believe I ever agree to marry you!”

This was not how he imagined this conversation going.

Feyre rolled her eyes and splashed him again. “But it doesn’t matter now, anyway, right?”

“Oh, right. You’ve been acting like an madwoman because I said it didn’t matter what I thought of our marriage.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You have the worst temper I’ve ever seen in my life!”

“I seriously doubt that’s true, considering you almost shot someone for calling me a bitch, you hypocrite!” she shouted back, water dripping off her like rain.

The memory of that night made him snap. Fuck this. He wanted her to know this was her fault, not his. “That was because I love you!”

She paused, mouth hanging open. 

He didn’t think she was breathing. 

“No, you don’t,” she said finally, moving to get out of the pool. He grabbed her shoulders and stopped her. “You literally told me the marriage doesn’t matter, so-”

“I freaked out, okay? You were looking at me all happy and trusting, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had by making it complicated.”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose, and he forced his smile down at how much it reminded him of himself. “You didn’t want to complicate our marriage with feelings?”

He nodded, and it suddenly seemed stupid.

She confirmed that thought.

“That is the stupidest, most deranged thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”

Rhysand splashed water at her, not able to help it. “No, the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard is a woman changing the locks on her husband because he pisses her off.” 

“How did you even get in, by the way?”

He smirked. “Baby, like you’re so fond of point out, I’m a criminal. You think I can’t pick a lock?”

That earned him a wave of water in the face. 

He asked, “Why did you get so mad about what I said?”

“Because I love you, too, you idiot. And I was embarrassed that I have feelings about someone who doesn’t care.”

Rhys smiled. “So you’ve been acting crazy because...”

“I was pissed off that I had started to actually like you, and the best thing you could say about being married to me was that you ‘aren’t miserable.’”

She glared at him, and he held his hands up. “That was shitty. Let me amend my statement, Your Honor.”

Her eyes softened just a fraction, and she grinned. “Proceed.”

“The marriage matters to me. A lot. I know it started because of publicity and both of us needing to save our asses, but I don’t want it to end. Ever.” He took a deep breath. “And I love you. So much I’m willing to overlook how bat-shit crazy you are.”

“Okay.”

He raised his eyebrows and gestured to her. If he was sharing, she could bet her pretty ass she was, too.

She sighed. “It matters to me, too. And I love you. So much I’m willing to overlook you being the demented Son of Satan.”

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

“Next time, just tell me what you’re thinking about, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Feyre pressed her forehead to his. “And I’d hate to have to do something really terrible to you to push you over the edge.”

“I’m curious,” he pulled back to ask, “What was next on the ‘Make Rhysand Miserable’ agenda?”

She smiled and blushed. “I had a few ideas, but I was planning on getting Cassian and Azriel to kidnap you and leave you naked in the middle of the mountains.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Cassian probably already had the spot picked.”

She wrapped her legs around him, both of them smiling like idiots. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Feyre kissed him. “I love you, too.”

He pressed his lips to her cheek. “Can I have a key to the house, please?”

“Only if you teach me how to pick a lock.”

Rhysand smiled and wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky. “Deal.”

________________________________________________________________

This is probably my least favorite fic ever, but it was fun to write. Thanks for reading! 

@rapunzel @bamchickawowow @wesupremeginger @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @hizqueen4life @exciting @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @sleeping-and-books @negativenesta @burritowithfeels @sis-it-dont-add-up @mockingjayusa @aelin-is-my-heart @awesomelena555 @thekeytohappiness-is-you @keshavomit @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Fractured Ice - Ch. 3/7

Xue Yang whisks a solipsistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right?

Your hand,” he says. He can’t think straight, but that much he knows to say. “Show me your hand, and I’ll tell you what he said.”

There’s no hesitation in the imposter’s movements. He unwinds the bandages, drops them to the floor, and eyes the naked clan leader evenly.

A black glove. The glove is distinctively fingerless save for the cloth-covered little finger, which sticks up stiffly.

 “...Xue Yang.”

XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M

Read on AO3!  Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 4

Ch. 3: shadows and monsters    

Lan Xichen doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, staring at the guqin, before Xiao Xingchen—

No. Not Xiao Xingchen.

—before the liar—the fraud—the imposter speaks.

“Well?” The imposter’s face is white, voice strained, eyes hot, but he’s sitting very, very still. “What did he say?”

That’s the last thing Lan Xichen is certain of for a while. Those words: What did he say? ringing in his ears, the desperation in the imposter’s eyes, and then, abruptly, icy-cold water on his skin, frigid water flowing around him, as he kneels naked in the stream outside.

The crane is nowhere to be seen, but Xiao—the imposter is on the bank. Sitting on a rock, as if he’s been there for a long time.

“Come on out, Zewu-jun,” he says coaxingly, as if he’s trying to lure a cat off a roof. Lan Xichen’s clothes are draped over his arm and there’s a blanket on his lap. “Let’s talk.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t remember crawling out of the stream any more than he remembers entering it, but he must have, because suddenly he’s being wrapped in the blanket and bundled back into the house.

The imposter sets the clothes down on a chair in Lan Xichen’s old bedroom and stands beside the bed.

“What did he say?” he asks. “He’s in there, isn’t he? I knew he was! I knew he wasn’t gone—”

Lan Xichen barely hears him. He’s almost completely numb, either from the icy stream or shock, but he’s almost certain he’s floating above the bed.

He tilts his head towards the imposter.

“Your hand,” he says. He can’t think straight, but that much he knows to say. “Show me your hand, and I’ll tell you what he said.”

There’s no hesitation in the imposter’s movements. He unwinds the bandages, drops them to the floor, and eyes the naked clan leader evenly.

A black glove. The glove is distinctively fingerless save for the cloth-covered little finger, which sticks up stiffly.

“...Xue Yang.”

The words hang in the air between them, blazing with the full heat of the betrayal, but Xue Yang doesn’t so much as blink.

Instead he claps slowly, grinning as if he’s enjoying himself. “Excellent detective work, Zewu-jun. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me, what did he say?”

“Xue Yang,” Lan Xichen repeats. He’s not sure what he expected, but it was not this. He struggles to put names and events together, find some explanation, but his mind is a throbbing blank. “Xue Yang.”

There’s a knife in Xue Yang’s hand. He’s still grinning, but it’s a grin full of fangs. “Tell me what he said,” he says, “and I won’t slice your face off.”

Lan Xichen hears someone laughing, realizes it’s him, but he can’t stop. He’s overwhelmed with it, suffused with it, completely awash with amusement, laughter gushing through him and clawing its way out through his throat.

And then Xue Yang is laughing too, his knife back wherever it came from, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

It’s a long time before either of them get themselves under control. Lan Xichen feels warm despite the wet hair sticking to his bare shoulders. That old swelling, growing feeling is back in his chest, and he could swear that he’s glowing in the dimness.

“Nothing matters,” he informs Xue Yang. The monster has brought the chair over beside the bed and is sitting on Lan Xichen’s robes, feet up on the bed. “Nothing at all.”

“I guess not,” says Xue Yang. He tilts his head at Lan Xichen. “And, as that’s the case, maybe you can tell me what he said?”

“ ‘Xiao Xingchen.’ ”

Xue Yang closes his eyes in a kind of ecstasy. “He said that?”

“His name would be impossible to confuse with any other words.”

A shudder passes through Xue Yang. “I knew he was still in there,�� he says. “I knew it—” He opens his eyes. “I did it,” he says. “ I brought him back, I nursed his spirit—”

Lan Xichen wants to ask him about how Xiao Xingchen ended up in the bag. Not for any real reason. Just base curiosity. It doesn’t matter, after all. He had been right, after all, no matter what Lan Qiren had tried to convince him of. The world is all shadows, all shades, all layers upon layers of curtains and veils.

It can wait.

“My brother didn’t recognize you,” he says.

Xue Yang points to his face. His voice is steady, but his hand trembles slightly. “Face-mirroring talisman. Itchy, but it comes in handy. I didn’t stick around long, though.”

Another layer, another curtain. Lan Xichen is glad of it. More proof that nothing is real, that nothing matters, that he can finally let go.

“Let me see your true face.”

He expects an argument, but Xue Yang just sighs and grips the side of his face. Tugs, peels off his skin. Drops the mask into the pitcher of water he’s set beside the bed and turns to Lan Xichen.

“A bit of a downgrade,” he says, rubbing at the skin around his jaw and temples, “but I haven’t gotten many complaints.”

He’s quite good-looking, actually, in a jarringly youthful, innocent way. Far different from the elegant beauty of the mask. Softer, with no sharp angles anywhere on him, and a well-formed nose. A surprise. Lan Xichen had never actually met him despite Xue Yang’s years as a Jin Clan guest disciple, but the idea of him as a grotesque monster has been fixed in his mind since his slaughter ( supposed slaughter, reminds himself) of the Chang Clan. His voice is lighter than before, almost flippant, with nothing of the genteel tones he’d used to impersonate Xiao Xingchen.

“And underneath?” Lan Xichen asks.

Xue Yang raises an eyebrow. “Underneath?”

Lan Xichen leaves it alone. He’ll peel off the next layer when he’s ready, shed his skin, reveal another level of reality.

“Xue Yang was always described to me as a madman,” Lan Xichen says. “But you…”

“By a group of self-righteous fucks who met me for five minutes as an adolescent?” Xue Yang grins. The half-feral grin feels more natural when coupled with this face, deceivingly innocent as it is, as does the intensity of his eyes and foul language. “Perhaps they were right. Perhaps they were wrong. Does that really matter to Zewu-jun?”

Lan Xichen doesn’t respond. It’s true, Wangji and Wei Wuxian had only met Xue Yang for the few days it took to travel to the Unclean Realm, and Nie Mingjue had only interrogated Xue Yang once.

All three had been unanimous in their verdict that Xue Yang was not right in the head. A sadistic monster with no true emotion, an animal who killed for pleasure instead of necessity.

A-Yao, though…

Jin Guangshan had pushed A-Yao to take a special interest in the young man after all the hoopla over the Chang Clan massacre, and A-Yao had dropped a few words to him about Xue Yang over the years, mostly in response to Nie Mingjue’s tantrums over Xue Yang’s death sentence having been commuted to life imprisonment.

He can hear A-Yao’s voice in his head as if it were yesterday.

“Xue Yang is not a madman,” he had told Lan Xichen during one of their late-night talks. A-Yao had been lounging in his most casual robes, the collar open, belt loosely tied. “He has violent tendencies, yes, and I can see why the false rumors were spread about him. He is often quite rude—” being rude, going by A-Yao’s tone, was a worse trait than any potential for sociopathy “—but he is deceptively clever, hard-working, and brimming with raw talent. The Jin Clan needs more disciples like him.”

And a different time: “If only he had been instructed from childhood, he would have been one of the greats by now.” And then, as if rethinking that, “Or perhaps not. He sits outside of everything. Sometimes I think that is his greatest strength.”

There had been a sense of envy in the way A-Yao spoke the words “outside of everything.” A-Yao, who had spent his entire life doing everything in his power to get on the inside, to climb to the top of the pyramid.

Lan Xichen hadn’t understood it then.

He did now.

He looks at Xue Yang. The delinquent cultivator is sitting with one arm dangling indolently over the side of his chair, his feet still up on the bed frame, not even trying to hide his smile. He’s staring at the ceiling as if counting something invisible up there, twirling his hair with his good hand.

Rule 8: Do not sit with a disgraceful pose.

Xue Yang gives a cheery little wave when he notices Lan Xichen’s attention. Despite everything, the young man looks so—so innocent —

A-Yao had been certain that Xue Yang had not been responsible for the Chang Clan massacre.

Perhaps he had been right, despite what Nie Mingjue had very emphatically believed.

Lan Xichen should ask Xue Yang about it.

He knows he should.

Demand a full account of the slaughter—

But, “Were you flirting with me before?” he hears himself asking instead. He doesn’t think he’s ever spoken that ridiculous, adolescent word out loud, but it’s the only one he can think of that fits.

Xue Yang starts. “What?”

Lan Xichen is thinking of A-Yao’s half-open robes. A-Yao had never so much as made a move—chaste as his marriage was, he’d valued his vows and Qin Su too much to betray them like that—but during their time living together in cramped inns before the Sunshot Campaign, there had been little privacy, and he had not been above an occasional open robe, the occasional outfit change in front of Lan Xichen out of necessity, the occasional soft look when he thought Lan Xichen wasn’t looking, and after his marriage he hadn’t bothered breaking himself of those habits during their late-night talks.

Things Lan Xichen had always dismissed. A-Yao, he knew, had an almost obsessive dread of anyone associating him with his mother’s profession in any way. Had never said anything that could be taken the wrong way, be it to a man or a woman. Dressed neatly and simply. Never indulged in off-color jokes or humor, avoided so much as traveling through the low parts of town, had always been uncomfortable when certain topics came up.

But if he’s right about Xue Yang, perhaps his judgment isn’t so far off after all, and if so, that might mean that A-Yao—

“Before,” he explains. “Because I can’t always tell.”

Xue Yang laughs. His knife is back in his hand, but there’s no threat there anymore. He seems to like fidgeting with things—the knife, his hair, that leaf. He tosses the blade idly into the air, catching it deftly.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d say no to a pretty young man,” he admits.

“You were trying to…” Lan Xichen forces his tongue to form the words, uncomfortable as they feel in his mouth “… seduce me into helping you?”

Xue Yang shrugs. “I’ve done far worse trying to get him back than fuck another man.”

So Lan Xichen’s paranoia was justified, for once, but instead of this knowledge grounding him, it all strikes him as the funniest thing he’s ever heard. That Xue Yang should think infidelity is the issue here. That Xue Yang should have zero shame about it when all Lan Xichen has ever felt about anything that deviated slightly from the straight and narrow has been shame.

It’s all just so—so funny .

He shakes with silent laughter beneath his damp blanket, laughs until tears drip from his chin, till his ribs ache and throat is sore.

“What now?” he asks when the fit has subsided. Xue Yang is still tossing the knife up and down, patiently waiting for him to come back to himself. “What was your plan, exactly?”

Xue Yang straightens up. “You’re going to help me?”

“Of course not. But I’m curious.” Saying this out loud feels indescribably…luxurious is the wrong word, but it’s the one that comes to mind. Curiosity for curiosity’s sake has always been frowned upon in the Cloud Recesses. There is no single rule against it, but it violates a cross-section of rules ranging from admonishments to mind one’s own business to rules forbidding idle speculation.

Xue Yang is staring at his bandaged hand. “I was going to tell you that I know for a fact that there’s a ritual for bringing someone back to life in that forbidden library of yours, and, in exchange for you helping me bring back Xiao Xingchen, I would do everything in my power to help you bring back Jin Guangyao despite the fact that the little weasel did his best to murder me.”

“Execute you.”

Xue Yang shrugs. “Murder, execute, same thing.”

“What could you do?”

Xue Yang looks up from his hand. “Everything you aren’t willing to.”

“Get out.”

“But—”

“Get the hell out.”

Xue Yang reaches into his qiankun sleeve, pulls out a second spirit-trapping pouch, and sets it on the table.

“For your friend,” he says, and leaves.

* * * * *

Lan Xichen stares at the small brown pouch for a long time after Xue Yang leaves.

It stares back at him.

He gets out of bed, blanket pulled tightly around his naked body, and begins to pace the room, pouch in hand, rubbing his cheek on the soft material.

He feels—feels—feels surprisingly good , actually.

Nothing is real. Nothing matters.

And if nothing matters, if nothing is real, then A-Yao’s crimes don’t matter, his crimes aren’t real. All that’s real is the fact that A-Yao is trapped forever in a coffin with a vindictive spirit, stranded in limbo, never to ascend to the afterlife.

A-Yao. His A-Yao.

Nothing’s real, nothing matters.

Nothing but the fact that he wants him back.

Nothing’s real, nothing matters.

Nothing but the fact that the thought of A-Yao makes him happy. That emotion is real. Nothing around him is real, but the feelings inside him are, and right now the thought of A-Yao standing before him again makes his chest swell with warmth, makes him feel like he can jump swordless off the roof and soar, swoop through the air, glide over the treetops and fill his lungs with starlight.

Perhaps he has spent the night flying, soaring above it all. It’s almost morning when he returns fully to himself, standing naked in his mother’s courtyard, inhaling the moonlight, A-Yao’s spirit-trapping pouch still in his hand.

He throws his clothes on and hurries to Xue Yang’s room, yanking the door open so hard he rips the lock off.

Shocked awake, Xue Yang shoots upright, snatching the ornate knife resting on the bed frame. Shuanghua’s frosted white hilt peeks up from under the covers.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he says, breathing hard. He’s still gripping the knife, as if trying to ground himself with the feel of the cold metal on his skin and reassuring weight in his hand. “I almost bit my tongue off!”

“The library,” Lan Xichen says. “Now.”

Xue Yang bites his lip so hard he draws blood.

* * * * *

They spend all morning in the library. All day. All night.

All week.

“You said you knew for a fact that there’s a way to bring them back,” Lan Xichen says on the eighth day. “How do you know this?”

They’re sitting in the main library, eating a very late supper. Eating is forbidden in the library, but nobody dared refuse the Clan Leader’s orders.

Daily Tally:

Rule 40: Speaking during mealtimes is forbidden

Rule 43: Eating is prohibited inside the library

Rule 44: Eating is forbidden outside mealtimes

Rule 528: Do not conceal your intentions

Rule 2,007: Abuse not your authority

Rule 1,959: Reject the crooked road

And, of course, Rule 52: Do not befriend the evil , and the fifty-odd rules relating to demonic cultivation.

Xue Yang looks up from the honey-fried dumplings Lan Xichen specially ordered for him. Nobody has ever looked less evil. His mask is off, resting in a bowl of water beside him, and he looks like a sixteen-year-old who had led a particularly blameless life, albeit a particularly blameless life that’s kept him from getting enough sleep. “Did I say that?”

“Clearly.”

Xue Yang eats a few dumplings before answering. His table manners were better when he was pretending to be Xiao Xingchen. Lan Xichen wonders if he’s intentionally trying to provoke him by keeping his elbows on the table. If so, he’s failed. If anything, Lan Xichen finds the delinquent cultivator—the madman—the monster—fascinating. He’s so utterly different from anyone Lan Xichen has ever known.

He wonders how A-Yao got on with Xue Yang, his mirror opposite. Much as he’s always tried to suppress it, Lan Xichen has always had a taste for the absurd, and he regrets that he never got to witness them interacting.

Well, if all goes well, he’ll have that opportunity soon enough.

“I must have been talking about that thing I saw once,” Xue Yang shrugs finally, licking honey from his lips.

Lan Xichen resists the urge to remind him of Rule 23, Speak clearly . It’s hard to shake decades of being trained to think a certain way, to see rule infractions in every innocuous interaction. “What ‘thing’?”

“A page from a book originating here in this library. It discussed a ritual, but didn’t have all of the details.”

“Do you have the page?”

“It was destroyed in a fire, my luck.”

“What book was it from?”

“I don’t know. It was torn out. I’ve been looking for a book with a torn page.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

Xue Yang shrugs again. “Then you’d only be looking for a torn book instead of looking for potential alternatives. For example, at first I thought we could find the location of Baoshan Sanren’s mountain somewhere in the books, though it’s become clear that that’s impossible. No sense in closing off other potential avenues.”

Lan Xichen rises with a sigh. “Put your face back on. We’re leaving.”

Wrinkling his nose, Xue Yang replaces his face and follows Lan Xichen from the library to his chambers.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Lan Xichen pulls an elegantly-carved blue chest from under his bed. Inside are bundles of books, scrolls, and wooden slips. Each has a portion missing, a page torn out, a section mysteriously shortened.

“Intellectual mice?”

Lan Xichen doesn’t respond. Xue Yang doesn’t need to know that he spent days going through the forbidden pavilion after Guanyin Temple, removing everything A-Yao had gotten to.

He seats himself at his table while Xue Yang goes through the chest. Touching the same books that A-Yao touched is too much right now.

He’s glad he hadn’t put A-Yao’s hat in the same box.

Xue Yang talks non-stop as he rifles through the chest. “…Not many cookbooks vandalized, I’ll guess. The food at Koi Tower was always good. Too oily though. Hell on your stomach, but no need to steal recipes from the Lan, of all people—Ah. Here it is.” Grinning, he holds up an ancient-looking book with unraveling binding and no title. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” He sets it on the low table and kneels across from Lan Xichen.

But Lan Xichen rises, still unwilling to touch the book. “You read it,” he says, crossing the room standing in the door, looking out over the silent Family Courtyard. The shadows are deep, the moon hidden behind mist, the world utterly still.

He wonders if the crane is back in the stream.

Humming to himself, Xue Yang reviews the book, pulls a few others out from the chest, starts copying sections out using Lan Xichen’s calligraphy set.

Eventually Lan Xichen takes out Liebing and begins to play. The music soothes his nerves, quiets the anxious thoughts starting to buzz though his brain: the fear of being so close to bringing A-Yao back, of not being close of enough, of what if this is all a farce, what if what Xue Yang found is nothing, after all—

“Here.” Xue Yang is beside him, papers in hand. “Want to take a look?”

Lan Xichen puts his flute away. “No. Just tell me what my role in all this is.”

Xue Yang grins, tucking the pages away in his qiankun sleeve. “Traveling expenses, mostly. Unless we fly—”

“No flying unless necessary.” Lan Xichen is relieved Xue Yang agrees on this point. He doesn’t want his dreams bleeding into whatever this all is. Not exactly reality, but not exactly not reality. “I’ll make the preparations. Where are we going?”

“The Unclean Realm. We need to extract his spirit from the sarcophagus before we can do anything else. Yes, we’re starting with that dimpled little freak. I figure he’s smart, he can help us with my half—”

Lan Xichen barely hears him. “I’m not going to Qinghe.”

“Clan Leader Nie has the coffin.”

“I refuse to so much as speak to that—that—” Words fail him. It’s not like he doesn’t know any appropriate curse words, but none come close to expressing the hatred he feels at the mere thought of Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang, lying to his face. Nie Huaisang, picking up A-Yao’s hat without a trace of emotion. Brushing the dust off. Looking at the blood on his hand.

A-Yao’s blood.

“That twat-nosed little fucker,” Xue Yang suggests, though he can’t possibly understand why Lan Xichen feels the way he does.

“That—” Fucker .

“Fucker,” Xue Yang says encouragingly.

Lan Xichen shakes his head.

Xue Yang pats his arm, far too familiarly. “I’ll do all the talking to that half-witted little fucktoad, my friend. You just try not to trip and accidentally-on-purpose impale anyone on your hairpiece.”

Lan Xichen’s jaw tightens. “The mere idea of being in the same room as him makes me want to peel my own skin off.”

“Like this?” Heedless of the fact that he’s in full view of anyone strolling through the courtyard, Xue Yang tugs off his mask, laughing.

Lan Xichen slides the door shut. “Put your face back on, please, and please leave.”

Instead Xue Yang clicks his tongue and follows him back to the table. He sits on the corner, tapping his knee with his knife as Lan Xichen sets the table right, straightening the papers and brush set and wiping up the ink splatters. The table is lacquered to prevent permanent stains, and he ought to just wait until a servant comes to clean in the morning, but he can’t abide messes.

“What were you planning for the journey?” Xue Yang asks Lan Xichen as he tidies. “Full procession, servants, half-dozen outfit changes, increasingly ridiculous hairpieces, inns fit for an emperor—”

He doesn’t typically travel with a full procession, but the rest of it is fair. “What other way is there?”

Xue Yang smiles. “Leave it to me.”

***

Up Next: Lan Xichen + Xue Yang road trip.

Or: An innkeeper may or may not meet an untimely end, depending on your interpretation of, “Of course I didn’t kill him. Not even a little.”

Chapter 4

[lacrow]

SXF Collaboration Story

@nonokoko13 , @sxfobsessed , @nagy-bari

First off I’d like to apologize. Under my insane direction, this little ficlet has turned into a 12k behemoth. Therefore I will be positing it in two parts (and also linking to ao3 since I threw it in with my one-shot collection). I’ll add the link to Part II when it’s edit/posted. Thank you to everyone who helped come up with this idea, it was a lot of fun to write!

Title: Cabernet Makes Her Clothes Fall Off

Rating: T

Part I: ao3

Part II: tumblr, ao3

Parties Involved: Loid Forger, Yor-Briar Forger, Anya Forger, Bond, Franky, Yuri Briar, Becky Blackbell, Camilla, Dominic, Millie, Sharon Mission Objective(s): host a dinner party for friends and acquaintances, [INCOMPLETE] Reporting Status: [IN-PROGRESS] ADDENDUM 1 [NIGHTFALL]: After careful review of last night's mission report, it has come to my attention that Twilight's conduct has been highly inappropriate for that of a WISE agent. I recommend personnel changes be made for the ensured success of Operation Strix. ADDENDUM 2 [TWILIGHT]: Sorry, I forgot to save you leftovers. ADDENDUM 3 [NIGHTFALL]: That's not what I meant, and you know it. ADDENDUM 4 [HANDLER]: He's married. Also, thank you for the leftovers, they were delicious.

Part I

A cacophony of sounds emanated from the Forger house as Yor frantically tried to get things ready for what was sure to be a total disaster.

In just a few hours, guests would be arriving for an impromptu dinner party that she had no right organizing in the first place. It wasn't her call to make, not without consulting her husband first, but...she went and opened her big mouth anyway. Now she was suffering the consequences for it, and not just her, either. Yor looked up through the window above the kitchen sink as she desperately went about getting things ready for the evening's festivities. Loid and Anya stood by the door as they started to put their coats on. The latter had her school backpack on, though in lieu of books and pencils it was instead filled with a change of clothes and some toys.

"I'll be back soon to help set up," Loid called out to her. He went to gather his hat and gloves. "I already called the Blackbells' nanny and told them I can't stay long."

"Ok," Yor replied meekly. Half of her wanted to tell him not to rush. The other half desperately wished to ask the opposite of him. "Please be careful you two."

"Bye mama!" Anya looked over at Yor as Bond came up to sniff her goodbye. "Have fun with your party tonight!"

The Forger matriarch couldn't help but to frown. "You do the same at your friend Becky's...do everything her parents tell you, okay?"

"I will!" Anya replied back. She smiled brightly in anticipation at her upcoming sleepover, though it waned the longer she stared up at her mama.

Yor had no way of knowing her daughter was reading her mind. If she did, it wouldn't have made her feel as guilty when Anya suddenly ran around the corner and wrapped her arms around her leg in a tight embrace. That wasn't to say she didn't appreciate the gesture; if anything she desperately needed it at the moment. It's just that she assumed Anya's hug was less out of fondness and more out of pity, though in the end she accepted it all the same. Yor knelt down and pulled Anya in close as Loid waited by the door with a well-hidden smirk on his face.

"Love you," Anya smiled encouragingly, eyes closed in content.

"I love you, too," Yor teared up a little. She squeezed her daughter tight. "I'll see you tomorrow."

They held each other for a moment. Though she didn't want it to end, Yor ended up being the first to let go. She smiled at Anya before the little girl waved and skipped off towards the door. Already turning the knob to leave, Loid let their daughter out first before turning to his wife. He said nothing, but gave a small, comforting smile to her before exiting. She nodded as a silent thanks before watching him leave, and it soon became just her and Bond. The Forger hound sat there with his tail wagging, and he looked up at Yor with an expectant look on his face.

Yor glanced down at the dog and sighed. "Well, Bond...time to get back to work."

Bond said nothing back, as was to be expected.

/*\

"You're joking, right? Not even a housewarming party?"

A familiar face; the deadpan look of an unimpressed Camilla, though to Yor she seemed just as pleasant as ever. If only the poor girl knew what every other woman working at city hall knew, which was that Camilla loathed her with a(n admittedly waning) passion. No one had the heart to say anything though, which was mostly why they stayed silent as Yor revealed to them that she and Loid had never had a get-together at their house before. Individual people, of course, but never more than one person at a time.

"Er, well...no?" Yor's lips squiggled. Was that a bad thing?

"Really, Yor, you're hopeless!" Camilla shook her head, exasperated. "Don't you and your husband have any friends?"

Yor blinked. "Well, of course we do. You, for starters."

Camilla's jaw dropped as the other women snickered behind her. Yor continued. "And I suppose that includes Dominic, as well? Also Loid's friend Franky, and his co-worker Fiona, and-"

"-Alright, alright, I get it!" the blonde woman grumbled, waving Yor off. "Fine, you have friends. So why then haven't you hosted before?"

Yor frowned a little. She knew why; it was because Loid was always tired and she was terrible in the kitchen. If there was going to be party then he would have to do the cooking, and Yor didn't have the heart to ask that of him. Not when he had so much on his plate already (pun unintended). Still, Yor could see where Camilla was coming from. She had been nice enough to invite her over to a get-together at her house, while Loid and herself had never shown the same courtesy back. It was rude, and not to mention suspicious.

Couples invited people over for dinner, right? So then, what would people think if she and Loid never did?

The more Yor thought about it, the more she realized her attempts at playing house were falling short again. Yor looked up at Camilla, Millie, and Sharon, and all of a sudden she felt self-conscious. They seemed to be waiting for an answer that Yor couldn't give them, or at the very least one she refused to share; that her marriage was a sham and she didn't know the first thing about entertaining guests. It was the truth, but they weren't meant to know that. All Yor could do was think about what her husband would do in her situation. What would Loid's response be?

He'd make it happen. One way or another, he'd pull through like he always did.

"W-well," Yor stammered. She flinched a little. "Why don't you all come over this Saturday?"

The other women paused, most of all Camilla. The three of them threw glances at one another, suddenly finding the spotlight reversed on them. They seemed to have a wordless conversation amongst themselves, while at the same time Yor kicked herself for opening the door to her home like that without talking to Loid first. He liked his privacy just as much as she did, and the weekend was one of the few times he got to relax (and even then it wasn't guaranteed). Yor's head started to slowly spiral; what if he got called into work, or she suddenly had to take a contract-killing job on short notice? This was a bad idea. She had to rescind her offer, and fast-!

"-Do you want us to bring anything...?" Camilla asked reluctantly. It almost looked like it pained her to say it out loud, mostly because it did.

Yor froze. The worst case scenario had come to pass, even more so because she had brought it upon herself. She stood there as three pairs of eyes stared at her once more, only there was no going back this time. The window of opportunity for backing out had already passed, and the only thing Yor could do was try her best to swallow the quickly growing lump in her throat.

"...N-no," Yor shook her head. She gulped. "...My husband and I will cook something for dinner..."

/*\

"I'm a horrible wife," Yor lamented as she straightened out her white polka dot dress. "I never should have agreed to this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, Yor," Loid eased. He closed the oven door and threw his mitt onto the stove top. He turned towards her. "There's no reason to beat yourself up."

Yor frowned. Loid sighed. They both looked to the clock on the wall next to them and immediately came to the same conclusion; their guests were fashionably late. A quarter past six and no one had shown up yet, but that ended up being more of blessing than anything else. Loid had gotten held up at the Blackbells' a little longer than expected, and Yor had only just barely finished cleaning by the time he made it home. She at least had it to where all he needed to do was fix up the casserole for later; the rest of their home, from the living room to the bathroom, was immaculately spotless.

"So remind me again who all is coming?" Loid asked uncomfortably as he looked back to the kitchen. He was fairly certain there was enough food, but...

"Well..." Yor thought for a moment. "The girls, so, Camilla, Millie, and Sharon. Dominic as well, and he of course told my brother so Yuri's coming, too. And also Fiona-?"

Loid shook his head. "She won't be coming. Something came up at work and she won't be able to make it."

Some hostage situation at the embassy, last he heard. Nothing Nightfall couldn't handle, though it'd certainly take her the whole night to sort through it all. Tragedy aside, it at least worked in favor of Loid's dinner planning. Along with some easy-to-make finger foods, there would be more than enough to keep everyone satisfied. On top of that, they'd rearranged the furniture in the living room to open it up a bit more. They had also moved the dining room table up against the wall, and Loid even got a hold of a couple breakfast nook chairs (courtesy of WISE) for the counter at the kitchen window.

This little shindig of theirs was turning into quite the gathering. Loid smiled a bit at the thought, even as Yor continued to look up at him in dismay. He had half a mind to reassure her some more, but knew it would only fall on deaf ears. Instead, he took it upon himself to leave her for a moment to go digging in the pantry. He fished out one of the cheap bottles of wine they'd gotten for the evening's festivities. Yor immediately held her hand up to protest, though karma had come full circle to spite her. She didn't listen to Loid. Therefore, neither would he listen to her.

A moment later and he arrived with a glass in his hand, filled halfway with blood-red courage. "Everything will be fine."

"I know..." Yor replied weakly as she took the wine glass from her husband. "...I just feel guilty for dragging you along with all this."

"Hey, we're a team," Loid reassured her. He smiled again, and Yor's face became flushed. "You just focus on enjoying yourself, and I promise it'll all work out."

For what felt like the first time that night, Yor gave a smile back. A small one, of course, since she still had a million things running through her head, but at the very least she gave Loid the response he was looking for. Yor closed her eyes and took a sip and, as if her husband had been right all along, there came a knock at the door immediately after. Yor paused; she quickly tried to swallow her wine in order to answer it properly, though Loid was already opening the door by the time she had composed herself.

They both figured it must have been Yuri (since he was usually quite punctual), but Loid's face fell flat as someone else came into view. "I hope I'm not late!"

Shaggy hair. Scraggly chin. A stature half that of Loid's; the man glowered. "Franky, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the party, of course!" Franky gave a stupid grin as he held up another bottle of wine. "I didn't get the invitation, but I figured you must've forgot!"

"...Right, of course," Loid's eyes narrowed. He continued to glare while Franky grinned. "Must have slipped my mind..."

Stiffly, Loid stepped back to allow his friend entry. He looked to Yor as Franky shuffled in, and he shuddered to think what an unaccounted for guest would mean for her party. Surprisingly, his wife seemed pleased at Franky's presence. She set her glass down and gave him a proper greeting, to which Franky did the same. He placed the bottle of wine on the counter after shedding his coat, and immediately made a b-line for the bathroom. The door shut behind him as he made his pit stop, leaving both Forgers alone again for a moment.

"I'm glad Franky could make it!" Yor smiled.

"Likewise," Loid added flatly. He shook his head in dismay.

"Next time I'll be sure to remind you to invite him," she added while grabbing his arm.

Loid relented with a smile to his wife, though the inside of his head was working overtime trying to sort through possible scenarios for the evening. It's not entirely that he didn't want Franky there (part of him truly didn't), but the less he mixed up Twilight's affairs with Loid Forger's the better. Not even taking into account just what a bad idea inviting an SSS agent into his home was, having Franky and Fiona there would have thrown a whole headache of problems into the equation. Nightfall could have handled herself well enough, but Franky...

He prayed to whatever god above that the little fool could behave himself. Just for one night.

All Loid could do was have a little faith, though that wasn't really his M.O. He'd try not to worry in the meantime, but would continue to keep an eye on Franky for the rest of the night. He eased up on the guy once he emerged out the bathroom and approached him and Yor for pleasant conversation; his initial terseness passed, and the three of them actually got on well enough for a time. For how long, specifically, Loid couldn't say. Before any of them knew it, there came another knock at the door. This time Yor was the one to answer.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Yor!" an impassioned voice cut through their home, and Loid knew right away it was Yuri. "I got held up at work and missed my train!"

"That's okay, Yuri, so is everyone else!" Yor smiled, and Loid did, too. She was letting the guest situation roll of her shoulders, which was good.

There was a shuffle at the door as both Briars came inside. Yor took her brother's hat and coat, and he smiled pleasantly at her in silent thanks. The moment his head swiveled in Loid's direction, however, that pleasantness quickly took a nosedive. Yor was none the wiser, of course, though Loid was more than aware of his brother-in-law's killer vibe. He smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Yuri!" Loid chimed politely. His smile grew as Yuri's turned even more.

"Loi-Loi," Yuri bowed his head stiffly in acknowledgement. Beside him, Franky cracked up at his friend's stupid nickname.

Yuri's eyes fixed on Loid and Yor's other guest. Likewise, Franky looked to Yuri. This was the first time either had met each other properly, though Franky was more than familiar with Yor's brother and his position as an SSS agent. Admittedly, it was a bit unnerving for Franky to be in his presence, especially with that...weird look he stared at him with. Loid had warned him about it multiple times; the dude was nuts about his sister. Him being friends with Loid probably didn't lend him any favors, so his opinion of him probably was at rock bottom at the moment.

Nowhere to go but up from there, right? "Hiya! The name's Franky, nice to meet you!"

Franky held his hand out to shake. Yuri glanced at it before looking back up. He offered no hand of his own.

"Yuri! Don't be rude!" Yor chastised her brother from behind. He cringed and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Franky's my friend, too!"

The Briar boy turned back around to find two smug smiles waiting for him; an obvious one from Franky, and a thinly-veiled one from Loid. Whether he noticed them or not, Yuri made no comment. He simply shook Franky's hand (reluctantly) and offered a halfhearted hello in reply. The two promptly separated and went their separate ways. Franky followed Loid into the kitchen while Yor stayed behind to talk more with her brother, and both groups kept up conversation for a time until another knock came at the door.

Camilla and Dominic. The pair entered, both carrying offerings for the party; a tray of enticing appetizers and another bottle of wine, respectively. The couple were met with multiple greetings and they offered their own before splitting up almost immediately. Loid showed Camilla into the kitchen while Dominic stayed behind to talk with Yuri. Franky joined everyone else in the living room, seeing as how there wasn't a lot of room in that tiny kitchen for three people. Besides, Loid didn't trust him in there, which was fair.

"Thank you for the food, but you really didn't have to go through all the trouble," Loid told Camilla as he dug into the cabinet for plates.

"Well, Dominic insisted we bring something, and it's a recipe I've been meaning to try out for a while now." She stood off to the side to stay out of his way.

"It smells great, can't wait to try it," Loid smiled pleasantly. A moment later and he procured the dinnerware. Camilla offered to take them into the living room for him.

Loid handed the plates off to her. Camilla turned to walk away, but paused as Loid spun around to gather his own appetizers. She shifted uncomfortably as she scanned him up and down; a nice dress shirt, perfectly sleeked hair, muscles, and an air of confidence that most men spent their whole lives pretending to have. Loid Forger had it all, and Camilla couldn't fathom just how in the hell Yor ever bagged such a hot husband in the first place. Seriously, how? It was downright frustrating just how perfect he seemed; the man could cook, raise a daughter, deal with Yor, and still seem nonchalant about everything. If she didn't know any better, Camilla would have said his and Yor's marriage was some kind of front for the mob or something. There was just no way...

"...Babe, you alright?" Dominic's head suddenly popped into the kitchen. "You're spacing."

Camilla jumped out of her skin and nearly dropped the tin, in no small part because she was caught red-handed thinking about Yor's husband. Luckily for her, Dominic didn't come to that conclusion. He smiled and waved her over and, after she shook herself out of it, Camilla followed him obediently towards the living room. The two of them dropped the food off on the dining room table on the way, which was joined by Loid's tin soon after. He stuck around to open some of the wine bottles, and Yor had half a mind to offer him help but ultimately decided against it. He was good at popping corks, and she would have honestly just gotten in the way.

Yuri, Camilla, and Dominic stood off to the side and chatted. Franky kept Yor company until Loid appeared a minute later, and the three of them sat gathered around the coffee table while they waited for the other guests to eventually arrive. So far, so good, Yor thought to herself as she scanned her apartment. Wine glass in hand, she let out a poorly hidden sigh of relief. At that point, Loid smirked. He must have been thinking the same thing she was, at least that's what Yor assumed. He leaned over the table to pat her shoulder comfortingly, and she flinched at his touch (out of habit) before quickly relaxing. Her husband was right; just enjoy the evening, and everything would work out fine.

She nodded to herself and took a sip of wine, and a small smile tugged at her lips soon after.

/*\

Millie and Sharon arrived stag together soon after. With Franky taking up the baton for Fiona, everyone Yor had invited ended up coming. Bond was promptly kenneled in Anya's room (with plenty of food, water, and a bone) and the party was in full swing. 

Loid started to drop off plates in front of people, and he couldn't help but be thankful that Handler had secretly requisitioned him the extra chairs. It was just enough for everyone to have a seat, though he distinctly remembered her shaking her head initially at his request. Not that she wouldn't do it, but more to do with the fact that he was going native, as she had so eloquently put it. A dinner party for his wife's friends? The higher-ups would rip them both a new one if they got wind that Twilight was blowing agency funds again over something stupid.

Regardless, she wrote it off as a business expense for an upcoming mission.

Handler always was a sucker for parties.

Loid just needed to save her some leftovers, which was easy enough. A couple missing appetizers and a suspiciously absent square of casserole were tucked safely away in his fridge for his boss. The spy game could get weird sometimes, and vicarious party attendance was just one of those things that agents did to keep themselves entertained during missions. Usually that involved going out of their way to secretly acquire a bottle from the bar to bring back to a safe house or finding out a way to smuggle out a whole chunk of wedding cake without being seen by the bride and groom. It was a stupid inside joke amongst spies; that being said, Loid was no stranger to it. He fully expected the same from Handler the next time she attended a party for a mission.

"Thank you, Loid!" Yor beamed up at him as he pulled up the chair next to her. All the plates had been delivered, and he held the last one in his hands as he sat down.

"Yes, thanks for cooking. It looks great," Sharon added politely across from them. At her side, Millie echoed the sentiment while trying hard not to eat without everyone else.

Loid nodded and waved off their praise. Meanwhile, Yuri grumbled from his spot against the wall. He of course wasn't about to afford his brother-in-law any good will, though Franky next to him had more than enough for the two of them. He stared down at the food in front of him with big eyes and watering mouth; it was by far the best looking thing he'd seen in a long time. He wasn't necessarily the healthiest eater at home. Mostly his pantry was filled with noodles, cereal, and the occasional box of macaroni. This was a downright feast.

There was only one thing missing, and he almost forgot it before digging in. He hadn't eaten anything all day so he'd abstained up until then, but now was definitely the time for a tall glass of wine. He swung down from his chair and shuffled into the kitchen as the rest of the party cut into their food and carried on in conversation. Nobody paid him any mind, save for one man whose head immediately shot over when he noticed a familiar bob of scruffy hair struggle to uncork another wine bottle. Loid quickly excused himself with no one the wiser.

"No drinking," he stated firmly as he came up behind Franky and lifted the bottle from his hands. The latter spun around incredulously.

"Excuse me?" Franky guffawed. He held his arms out to the side to accentuate just how insulted he was.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you drank at my house?" Loid replied flatly. His voice was hushed. Their conversation needed to be quiet.

Franky considered for a moment. He genuinely gave it some thought before slowly shaking his head. "Er...no?"

Loid pinched the bridge of his nose. "You nearly blew my cover, plus you convinced me to spend thousands of dalc on a castle rental for Anya!"

"Hey, that was your fault for listening to a drunk guy!" Franky shot back, which only caused Loid's eye to twitch in annoyance. "Also, what are you talking about?! Yor's drinking and she's way worse than I am!"

"I can handle my wife. I can't handle both of you," Loid shook his head like a father reprimanding his child.

"She's your fake wife!" Franky whispered back loudly. "I'm your best friend! You're really just going to cut me off like this?"

Loid leaned over his so-called best friend. Their height difference was on full display, and Franky gulped. "This whole party was Yor's idea! It's important to her, and I'm going to make sure it goes off without a hitch. If that means keeping you dry for an evening, then so be it!"

Twilight made a brief reappearance; those cold eyes he was known for were suddenly aimed directly at Franky, and they got his point across loud and clear. With a reluctant nod, Franky agreed to skip the booze. Loid soon eased and nodded back before leaving to return to the other guests. That just left Franky alone by himself with an open wine bottle and a half-full glass on the counter in front of him. He grimaced at the thought of pouring it back into the bottle, a social faux pas if there ever was one. Dumping it certainly wasn't an option, either. Franky was never one to waste a good drink, regardless of the situation.

The newly-sober intelligence agent put his brain to work and came up with a quick solution; if Loid thought so lowly of him at the moment, why not prove him wrong? He was trying to score points with Yor (probably, he really didn't know why Twilight cared in the first place), so maybe if he helped make sure she had a good time then that might make him back off a little. Yeah, that's it! He'd pour the rest of the wine and treat her to a glass, then...well, he'd think of the rest later! His first priority was to make sure Yor was liquored up. Can't have a good party without feeling good, of course!

It all made sense. At least, it did to Franky, anyway.

With a smug grin, he filled the remainder of the glass. The bottle glugged in his hand until there was nothing left, and he promptly disposed of it before carefully curling his fingers around the cabernet meant for Yor. He focused intently on the red liquid as he walked, staring down at it to make sure that none of it came splashing out. Franky narrowed his eyes and suffered full on tunnel vision; for all the years he and Twilight had known each other, also taking into account what a connoisseur the latter was, it was a downright shameful how little Franky knew about handling wine.

Anyone who had ever carried a glass before knew to look forward when they were walking, not down at their hand.

Nobody noticed him at first. He scooted into the open room and crept up while everyone was eating and talking. Yor had her back to the wall, and Loid's was towards him. All the better to surprise the Forgers with a kind gesture, Franky plotted. He let a sneer cut across his face as he arrived and cleared his throat, summoning his hosts' attention.

"Here you go, Yor!" Franky announced obnoxiously. All eyes turned towards him. He lifted his nose haughtily in the air. "I thought you might like a glass of wine-!"

-He suddenly stopped.

Not of his own volition, but because something had caught his foot and sent the rest of him reeling forward. Franky's eyes widened, and he looked down to find he'd tripped over one of Bond's stupid chew toys. He hadn't seen it before. It was too late to do anything about it. Already he was lurching towards Yor and Loid, and even if he caught himself from falling over there was no stopping the overflowing cup in his hands from spilling everywhere. Franky watched, captive, as cabernet rained over the one person Loid had done his damnedest to please that evening.

Yor sat helpless as her white polka dot dress suddenly splattered blood red. Warm liquid stained her and her clothes, and the rest of the party froze for a millisecond as what was happening still registered in their brains. Then, immediately after, Loid jumped up. Yuri and Dominic did so as well, while the women covered their mouths in disbelief. Yor stared down at herself in shock as her brother and husband clamored around her, though it was Dominic that ended up gathering all the available napkins to sop up whatever wine was left puddled around her.

Franky ultimately didn't fall. He caught himself at the last second, though he quickly wished he'd landed flat on his face and passed out from the trauma. At least then he could have been spared from Twilight's wrath; when Westalis' legendary agent quickly ascertained his wife was alright and promptly spun around, Franky could feel his soul being pulled out from his body. And the worst part about all that was, Loid wasn't alone. For the first, terrifying time, both he and Yuri seemed on the same wavelength. The two pierced through him with blood lust in their eyes. An SSS and WISE agent both teaming up to gut him; hell had certainly frozen over, and Franky felt the chill down to his bone.

"...Franky!" Loid menaced. He said nothing more. He didn't have to. The mere mention of his name alone was enough to make the agent quake in fear.

Yuri on the other hand was far more animated, though Dominic was at least on standby to forcibly reel him in. "How dare you spill wine all over my sister you q-tip-headed moron!"

"Hey now, it was an accident!" Dominic reasoned with a pained smile, even as Yuri tried to break free from his grip in order to pummel Franky's face into casserole.

"...H-he's right," Yor piped up reluctantly. Everyone suddenly got quiet and spun around to face her. "It's fine, you two. I'll just...have to rinse off in the shower real quick."

Loid paused. He looked at Yor to find her already standing up. She hid her face with a frown, and immediately Loid's heart sank. With a muted excuse me, she walked past Loid and the other guests on her way to the bathroom. The party watched in silence as she darted into the bathroom. No one made a peep, not until the door closed behind her; at that point, things picked back up exactly where they left off. Yuri went to rip Franky a new one. Dominic did damage control. Camilla and the girls mumbled to each other in hushed tones, and Loid was left standing there in the middle of it all. He stared at the bathroom, disheartened. He wanted to help, but knew there was nothing he could do at the moment besides keep the party going. He had to. For Yor's sake.

With a heavy sigh, he flipped on the switch once more. Back to being Loid Forger, the perfect family man.

With a fake smile and calm demeanor, he went about trying to put everyone at ease. Yuri was by the far the most difficult of the bunch to appease, but after much pandering (and an honest promise to kick Franky's ass later) Yor's brother finally calmed somewhat. He sat far off at the other end of the living room away from everyone else, and once he settled down the rest quickly followed. Conversation slowly picked back up, even more so once the sound of a shower being drawn came from the end of the hall. Yor was getting cleaned up. She'd be back at the party in no time, and the thought was enough to finally get things back in full swing. Franky was still the odd-man out, but Loid didn't care about that. The twerp.

New house rule, Twilight thought to himself as he went back into the kitchen to pour the ladies some more wine. No more WISE agents at social functions.

[the-real-tc]

Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Chapter 23

A.N.: This chapter took way longer to churn out than I expected, and there will be another update very shortly. We're moved into Episode 713 territory now, so you know that means things are getting even closer to where they are supposed to be. Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Chance Encounter

The drive back from Moose Jaw on Tuesday was its usual eight-hour, mind-numbing slog for Tim Fleming. Shane and Miranda seemed to be doing fine without him, though something in his gut warned Tim there was something going on neither of them wished to speak of in his presence. The visit started off on a positive note. Shane excitedly asked about Pal before politely moving on to inquiring about his half-sisters. By the actual Thanksgiving Monday, Tim knew he was wearing out his welcome, as if Miranda could not wait to be rid of him. Yes, it was true they had called it quits, but there was a distant air about her that Tim could not put his finger on. When he mentioned he would like to come out in a month for the Remembrance Day holiday, he was met with a non-committal sort of answer, but not an outright "no". Shane's sullen resentment over the absence of a father-figure in his life was still brewing beneath the surface. Tim recognized the signs; he just had no idea what to do about it, especially since Miranda was apparently hedging about the next time he could visit his son. How was he supposed to be a father to Shane if he was not even permitted to see him on a regular basis?

By the time Tim reached Hudson, he was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He had half a mind to drop in at Heartland and stick around long enough to invite himself to dinner, but he was not in the mood to hear Jack complain about the sheep again, which he was sure to do. Instead, Tim pulled into the local McDonald's Drive-thru and ordered something he knew he would barely taste, but would otherwise tide him over until the next day. On Wednesday morning, Tim regretfully realised he was completely out of supplies and would need to head into town for groceries.

He was still contemplating what to do about convincing Miranda to allow him to visit again in a month's time while grabbing some steaks from a refrigerated shelf in the Deli section. Maybe the boy could come out to Heartland instead, Tim pondered. After all, Shane was still obviously interested in riding Pal. Amy and Lou would be happy to see their half-brother, of course. Tim also had a feeling Shane and Georgie would get along just fine, if given the chance.

What would he think about Tricia? Tim suddenly wondered as he mechanically loaded his groceries into his truck before starting the drive back to Big River.

What would Tricia think about Shane?

When is the right time to tell her about my "illegitimate" son?

Are we serious enough for that yet?

Those thoughts quickly fled as Tim did a double-take at the unexpected sight of an oddly familiar auburn-haired woman. She stood at the bank of green community mailboxes on the side of the rural road, unaware of his scrutiny. The presence of her nearby silver-grey Porsche SUV confirmed it: the usually blonde Lisa Stillman had returned to Hudson. Tim pulled his truck to a stop—he simply had to get the low-down on this. Lisa was the last person he expected to see here, especially after Lou bought back her share of the Dude Ranch so many months ago. Jack's continued silence on Lisa's whereabouts and the status of their relationship compelled Tim to approach. After all, Lisa was godmother to his granddaughter Katie. It would be impolite to drive past her without a word, he reasoned.

"Hey, Lisa!" he called when he was within earshot.

Her shoulders jerked slightly, causing Tim to feel slightly guilty for startling her when he caught the stunned expression on her face. She recovered in time to respond, though somewhat hesitantly. "Oh. Hi, Tim!" she called back with forced brightness. Her smile, too, was forced.

"Wow, I didn't expect to see you back in town," Tim said as he neared. "How ya been? How was France?"

"Busy. I've been really busy," she replied hastily, closing her mailbox door and snapping the lock shut before stuffing her envelopes into a side pocket. "Um, France was fine. Sorry I can't stay and chat. I just got back from dropping off my sister at the airport, and I've still got lots to do today. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with someone in less than half an hour."

"Your sister was visiting?" Tim echoed. "Huh. That's nice. Don't think I've ever met her. The appointment wouldn't happen to be with Jack would it?"

Lisa's spirits sank at the mention of the man she loved but was avoiding. She wondered if Tim did it on purpose—honing right in on a person's vulnerable spot and then exposing it.

"Uh, no. No, I'm not meeting Jack," Lisa's voice faltered.

"Then who are you meeting?" Tim pressed.

Lisa felt cornered now. Knowing the news would eventually get out, anyway, she decided to be straight with the man. "A real estate agent," she answered testily. "I've put Fairfield on the market."

Tim's face betrayed mild surprise. Wow, he thought. She really is making that move to France permanent. "You're selling Fairfield. Whoa. Does Jack know about this?"

Lisa exhaled. "Jack knows I love France," she eventually responded as she averted her glance. "I tried to share that part of my life with him, but it didn't work. He hates France, and there's no changing that fact. It's best I make a clean break. For now, he doesn't even know I'm in Hudson, and I'd like to keep it that way, please. So don't tell him you saw me, okay?"

Despite not quite receiving a straight answer to his question, Tim nevertheless made a zipping motion across his lips. "O-kay."

"You promise you will not tell him I'm here?" Lisa said, eyeing him now with skepticism.

"I promise I will not tell Jack you're here, Lisa," Tim proclaimed, raising his hand in a Scout salute.

"Good. Thank you," she said, making her move back to the Porsche. "Now, I really have to go. Take care, Tim. 'Bye."

"Yeah, 'bye," Tim said, absently securing his hat on his head.

Without bothering to look back at him, Lisa raised a hand in a farewell gesture as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Tim called out: "But you are gonna tell him eventually, right?"

The motor roaring to life drowned out the question, causing Tim to frown. Aw, man. Something's gotta be done about those two before it's too late, he thought. I just need to figure out what.

**

Lisa pulled away from the mailboxes in a daze. Now that Tim had seen her, it was only a matter of time before Jack found out she was in Hudson. Of all the people I had to run into, why did it have to be Tim Fleming?! she fretted. And once Jack does find out, what will I do? Guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

The real estate agent warned Lisa from the outset her asking-price was high, given the current slump in the market. While she knew this, it was a tactic she hoped to use to her advantage. It was intended to weed out a bulk of potential buyers who would only waste her time. Genuinely interested buyers would be savvy enough to try to negotiate a lower selling price they would both be comfortable with. Lisa was ready to play that game. Besides, if someone did agree to the initial price, the agent stood to make a fantastic commission.

There would be no way to hide the signs or the real estate listing, of course, so even if she never laid eyes on Jack, he would eventually find out about the sale. She was plagued with feelings of guilt. Was it really fair to avoid him? How difficult would it be to make a quick call to say: "Hi, I've returned to Hudson to sell the old place. Thanks for the good times we had; I'm moving to France for good."

Very difficult indeed.

Those thoughts were quickly dismissed when Lisa reached Fairfield and business concerns once again consumed her mental energies. Among those concerns was the sale of Cinders, a horse for which Lisa felt an uncommon fondness due to his resemblance to her long-ago cherished Silver. Riding Cinders out to Lookout Point every morning was part of her daily routine when in Hudson, so she was reluctant to part with the animal. I have Indigo back in Toulon for my morning ride, Lisa thought practically, knowing one fewer horse to transport to France could be good for cost-saving in the long run.

A buyer from Montana was interested; Lisa was awaiting the finalization of that sale before booking transport. Three other horses would be going to buyers in Alberta; two to British Columbia, and one to Saskatchewan. That left several other horses that might eventually need to be auctioned, including the pregnant Rhapsody. The broodmare's pregnancy and the subsequent weaning process once the foal arrived meant travel any time soon would be ill-advised, so having her remain in Canada to be sold made sense.

The clone of Fairfield Flyer—when it arrived—was still a question mark. Dan seemed overly confident it would help them make their mark once they launched their breeding business overseas. Lisa was more cautious and hesitant about the whole idea; in time, maybe she would feel differently about the situation, as her sister Rachel had predicted.

And I'm still quite angry Dan did it, Lisa realised, almost feeling her blood pressure rising just thinking about the whole mess. Why am I even still in business with him? The answer she always arrived at whenever she pondered that question was that they still made good business partners, despite their failed marriage. This time, though, Lisa wondered whether business success in partnership with Dan was a good enough reason.

I have spent more than half my life doing this, Lisa said to herself. I've achieved a lot in that time. I would like to think I have made my father proud of the 'Fairfield' name. That alone should be worth it, right? And it's like I told Rachel: the money I've earned has made it possible to realise a lot of dreams, do things I wanted to do, and see the world. But at the end of the day, I go home to an empty house. What dreams am I chasing now? I always dreamed of retiring to France. And then Jack came into my life.

Lisa reflected fondly on that day at Heartland when she encountered Jack at the Open House barbecue. Amy had just awed the crowd by showing off her work with Promise, and with the way she had risen to Val Stanton's seemingly impossible, impromptu challenge to fix the hundred-thousand-dollar horse that refused to jump.

"You're doing a really good job with her, Jack," Lisa recalled telling him. What she didn't tell him was that she had inquired discreetly about his fifteen-year-old granddaughter after being impressed by her during their first meeting at Fairfield. Since Nick Harwell had sung Amy's praises regarding her work with Star, Lisa called him up. She hoped to find out a little more about this Amy Fleming, daughter of the late Marion Fleming. She had a vague recollection hearing about Marion and Heartland since returning to Hudson from the 'States. Even so, she had at least known of the existence of 'Heartland Ranch' in the same sort of familiar way Hudsonites would know of the existence of any other ranch in the area.

"I read in the Hudson Times about Marion Fleming's passing and how Amy's grandfather is a rodeo legend," Lisa had told Nick during their conversation. "What else should I know about this family?"

"Yes, Jack Bartlett is pretty well-known for his rodeo days. And Marion... Marion was something else," Nick had stated. "And I really think Amy has the gift, too. What did you think of her?"

"It's too early to tell," Lisa had replied honestly, "but I like her spunk. I had my reservations about Promise going under the care of a fifteen-year-old, but she won some points with me. She set me straight when she told me her mother didn't 'whisper' to horses; she listened to them."

Nick had chuckled. "Whatever you want to call it, Marion sure worked magic with horses, and Amy can, too. You just have to sit back and let the magic happen."

"How is Heartland Ranch doing?" Lisa then inquired. "Are they going to be okay without Marion working with troubled horses? That was their main source of income, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," Nick replied with a sigh. "Jack does have a herd of cattle, but it's small. His adult granddaughter Lou is back in town from New York to help, but who knows how long she plans to stay... And Jack's wife, Lyndy, died a few years ago. I heard through the grapevine Amy and Lou's dad is a rodeo legend too, but he's also a total deadbeat. So now Jack has got to raise Amy by himself. It's not going to be easy for them. I do believe Amy has her mother's gift, but she's still so young to be taking on the 'family business', if you know what I mean. Jack has his work cut out for him."

"Yes, I guess he does," Lisa had remarked thoughtfully, imagining an elderly man all of a sudden saddled with a responsibility he did not anticipate in the wake of his daughter's tragic death.

To see Jack Bartlett in the flesh was a revelation. The man was nowhere near the 'elderly' grandfather Lisa had envisioned after speaking with Nick. He was tall, fit, and grizzled with irregular features, yet handsome in an unconventional way she found attractive. She would almost have guessed he was Amy's father had she not known any better. So this was the man who was taking care of his teenaged granddaughter. This was the man who had clearly taken the responsibility very seriously, and was succeeding at the task despite the burden of loss and heartbreak. This man, a salt-of-the-earth type, exuding quiet confidence and strength—this man she simply had to get to know better.

He was the first man in a very long time Lisa felt the urge to flirt with; the first man she felt comfortable sending out signals she wanted to know him on a deeper level. Their first real conversation was brief. She paid him a compliment about the burgers he was grilling up, then added she thought he was doing a great job with Amy. She mentioned her own situation with taking on her nephew following his parents' divorce. As they parted company that evening, she brushed her shoulder against his after his offer to help with Ben, hoping the message was received.

Bringing up those old memories of the weeks and months that followed the Open House was bittersweet. Back then, it was Immediately clear to Lisa that Jack was nothing remotely resembling a social butterfly. He was never at any of the parties she attended, nor was he known to folks in her Hudson social circles. She would have to ferret out what his interests were and meet him at that level if she wanted to get closer to him. Lisa would be forever grateful to Maggie for suggesting Amy have a look at the traumatized Gallant Prince, as it provided more opportunities to visit Heartland—and to see Jack.

And then I asked him to accompany me to that auction... and his truck broke down.

It was a deviation in her plan she had not expected, but rolled with it by suggesting they eat right then instead of after the sale. They discussed nothing of consequence during that interlude while they ate turkey-and-swiss sandwiches, but Lisa enjoyed every minute of it.

"Aren't you something?" Jack had asked, clearly not expecting anything like this when she told him she made coffee for him; that she had planned a picnic treat from the very beginning.

The early fall weather was pleasant, a soft breeze fluttering through the leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She seldom had a chance to pause like this, sitting in the company of just one other person, undisturbed by the rest of the world. He complimented her on the coffee, subtly making her realise he had strong opinions about the beverage. Time slipped away much too quickly. After a particularly long stretch of silence between them after the last of the coffee had been drunk, Jack finally spoke up: "Well, I guess I should probably see if that old truck of mine is ready to start. Can't have you missing that auction, can we?"

Reluctantly, they tidied up and trekked back to the stalled vehicle. It started without complaint, bearing them safely to High River for the auction. Lisa mentally skipped over the part when they encountered Dan, knowing what she knew now about how he had the temerity to tell Jack she was still his wife. Lisa remembered her acute disappointment upon discovering Jack had abandoned her there without a word. Something about that scenario did not sit right with her, as she was quite certain he had enjoyed their picnic.

Perhaps another woman might have dismissed him for that perceived slight, Lisa reasoned, but I knew I couldn't let him go that easily. Fortunately, a good friend she ran into at the close of the auction was willing to give her a lift to Heartland so she could retrieve her Porsche. At the time, she was tempted to knock on Jack's door to demand an explanation, but something told her that would be the wrong move. Let this thing play out, she remembered thinking. Let him come to you when he's ready.

And the explanation did come out, confirming for Lisa she made the right choice by not blowing the situation out of proportion, though she had every right to be upset. Handling it with a dose of humour had de-escalated what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. After all, Dan had just sourly peeled out of Heartland, having been told off by Jack, and after being rebuffed by Lisa.

"Well, since men keep driving away on me, would you mind driving me home in your truck, please?" she remembered asking with a smile and a good-natured chuckle. Of course Jack had not minded one bit. She had noticed the look of gradual, earnest relief on his face once he realised she was not married to Dan any longer; that she had not been playing with his emotions or leading him on.

"Jack, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding with my EX-husband," she said contritely during that ride back to Fairfield. "He had no right to do that, and I want to make it very clear I—"

And he had broken in gently then, telling her she had no need to apologize; that he was the one that needed to do the apologizing for abandoning her at the auction.

"Hmm," she had said playfully. "I suppose you have a plan in mind about how you're going to make it up to me?"

"Well, as a matter of fact... I was wondering..."

After a few seconds of tense silence, he had asked if he could have the pleasure of her company at his private cabin in a few weeks' time. She could tell it took some effort on his part to ask the question, but she readily accepted his invitation to try a little fly fishing, despite the lateness of the season, as he told her.

"I would love to, Jack," she had replied, grinning from ear to ear, thinking this reconciliation had gone miles better than she hoped.

Maggie had helped her pick out all the requisite equipment after she realised she would actually need hip waders and rods for the date. Expensive hobby, she remembered thinking when her friend rang up all the purchases at the cash register.

"I'd better catch something, huh?" she had ruefully asked.

"I think you already did," Maggie had quipped.

At the time, the meaning of those words had not been lost on Lisa. Now, after all the time since those early days when they were still practically strangers, Lisa wondered if he was still on the line, or if Jack had pulled loose. Severed from her life, he would be pulled away from her shore, lost to the currents of the passing world.

Despite never using the equipment again since that first date, Lisa had never availed herself of Maggie's promise of a refund.

I always hoped we would go fishing together again, Lisa mused. Why is it we never did? Maybe it's high time I got rid of all that stuff; I certainly won't be doing much fly fishing in France.

Lisa shook her head slightly, knowing she had to cease thinking about such matters and concentrate instead on getting her Fairfield business in order. As if on cue, her office line rang, its call display revealing a Montana area code.

Looks like I have an answer about Cinders, she rightly guessed.

"Lisa, hi! It's Wayne Mosley. I'll make this call short and sweet: We have a deal on your horse. I can have the funds wired to you today."

"That's great, Wayne," Lisa replied, squelching the sentiment that unexpectedly sprang up at the thought she was really going to be parting with the animal for good. "I can get transport booked for Cinders as early as Sunday."

"Perfect. Thanks, Lisa."

"You're welcome. Glad we were able to work something out."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you. Take care. 'Bye."

"Likewise, Wayne. 'Bye."

**

Lightning almost as bright as day flashed, visible even through Lisa's closed eyelids. That alone might have been enough to awaken her, but the following crash of ear-splitting thunder made it impossible to remain in the land of dreams.

Lisa rolled over in bed, gradually becoming aware of the fact of the storm raging outside. When she cracked open an eye to check the time on the bedside digital clock, she could barely make out a blank display screen.

Have we lost power? she wondered groggily. Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the bedroom. Her ears picked up on the wind-driven rains beating against the windowpanes. A quick glance outside confirmed Hudson had indeed lost power. Seconds later, the Fairfield generators kicked in, bringing to life the security lights outside. The numbers on the clock now blinked '12:00' a.m. in a rhythmic pattern, its green glow a slight irritant.

With a sigh, Lisa let her head fall back onto one of the many the pillows scattered about the mattress. Installing those generators had come at some expense, but she was grateful for them now and in times past when an outage occurred. She listened to the sounds of the storm, unable to fall back asleep quite yet. Some of the horses in the stables would be restless, and she wondered if Rhapsody was okay, given her expectant state.

Harry and the rest of the hands are going to be dealing with a few grumpy, skittish equines in the morning, she thought as she finally sat up to re-set the time on the clock after consulting her iPhone.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now; the answering thunder a distant rumble. The storm was either moving on or its intensity petering out.

Oh, no. Things are going to be a mess out there tomorrow, this new thought entered her mind, as it dawned on her the power loss was probably caused by downed tree branches. The trees around Fairfield were never spared damage in such instances in the past. The real estate agent would expect the property to be in pristine condition if there were going to be any showings.

Better call the landscaping company first thing... It was the last thought she remembered thinking before drifting off again.

**

Clean-up the morning after the storm that knocked out power at Heartland occupied a fair chunk of the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family's time. Branches lay haphazardly about the yard. Piles of scattered leaves and twigs littered the ground, blown off by the earlier violent winds.

Tim pulled up in his truck uncharacteristically early to lend a hand, though he certainly had ulterior motives. Lisa made me promise not to tell Jack she was back in town. She didn't make me promise not to tell anyone else, though... He approached Amy, hoping to determine if Jack was wise to the situation of Lisa's return to Hudson.

"Guess who I saw in town yesterday?" he asked his daughter, unable to keep a lid on the information bubbling up to the surface.

The surprise that registered on Amy's face told him everything: Poor Jack was clueless.

**

Lisa's backside smarted. That's going to leave a bruise, she thought ruefully as she checked herself over for any other potential injuries after being unceremoniously dumped to the damp ground by Cinders. But no, every other part of her body seemed just fine. No broken bones or sprains, thank God. That's the last thing I would need right now just as I'm trying to get things sorted out at Fairfield. Now where has that horse trotted off to, and what the heck happened?

Lisa's brow creased as she recalled a sudden uncomfortable, intense buzzing sensation right before being tossed from the saddle. Her eyes sought and quickly spotted something that confirmed a dim suspicion: a downed tree tangled up with the line from an electrical fence erected around the slough Cinders had stepped into.

So that's what that shock was, Lisa realised.

"Cinders!" she called, hoping the sound of her voice would bring the horse back. It was usually an exercise in futility; Cinders was not trained to come when beckoned as a pet dog might. A careful inspection of the sod around her revealed hoof prints.

I hope that horse hasn't gone too far, Lisa thought in irritation. In truth, she was more annoyed at herself for not noticing the downed line. Fortunately, she spotted the dappled grey horse not too far away, pulling at some vegetation.

"Hey, you," Lisa softly chided as she approached him with deliberate caution. "What was that all about? Did you get spooked by that silly electric fence?"

Cinders seemed to bristle slightly when she neared, but he did not refuse when she took hold of his bridle. "Let's go home, huh?" she said, placing her right foot into the stirrup to mount up. With a squeeze of her calves, Lisa cued the horse to begin the return the way they came. Ahead, she could see the muddy banks of the slough along with the energizer and tangle of electrical wiring and branches.

Everything about the ride seemed normal until they were a few feet away from the water. Cinders stiffened as soon as he sighted the pond, stopping dead in his tracks. He balked when Lisa urged him on again; a snort of terror issued from his nostrils before he reared up in protest.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lisa called out, barely avoiding another fall as she regained her balance. "What's the matter with you?"

Without being commanded to do so, the horse backed away, giving his head a few contrary shakes.

"Come on, Cinders," Lisa coaxed, applying more pressure to his sides with her legs. She clicked her tongue loudly twice. The horse eventually got the idea, and he sidestepped the muddy bank, pacing off to the right, giving the slough a wide berth.

**

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Scott," Lisa said.

"You've always been one of my best clients, Lisa," Scott commented warmly. "Happy to be of service. I was surprised to hear from you, to be honest; I haven't had a call from Fairfield in months."

"I know," she said vaguely, "being in France and all meant I wasn't as hands-on here as I have been in the past."

At that moment, Ty ambled in to the holding area. If he was surprised to see her there, he hid the emotion well. "Hi, Lisa," he said casually, as if this were any other normal visit.

"Hello, Ty," she answered back with a wan smile. Kicking herself mentally, she now knew she should have counted on the possibility Ty would be on duty at the clinic today. Oh, shoot. First Tim; now Ty. It's going to be impossible to keep my being in Hudson from Jack.

"I noticed the 'For Sale' signs up at Fairfield," Scott continued. "Don't tell me you're thinking of leaving us for good?"

Lisa bobbed her head, still wary of Ty's presence. "Yeah, I've had a good run here," she replied. "I'm looking at a new opportunity in Avignon."

With that short answer, both Scott and Ty understood she was not going to say anything more on the topic.

"So what's going on with this guy?" Scott asked, looking now at the horse. "You said something about an electrical fence?"

"Uh, yes," Lisa spoke up, re-organizing her thoughts to focus on the reason for her hasty appointment. "Meet Cinders."

The horse's level of agitation had come down since the earlier ride, but Lisa caught subtle cues that told a different story, making it clear to her Cinders was not over the sudden electrical shock they had experienced at the slough. She explained the whole episode while Scott examined the animal, inviting Ty to do the same as a learning exercise.

Presently, Scott declared: "In my medical opinion, there's nothing wrong with him physically, Lisa."

"That's good," Lisa said in relief. She rubbed Cinders' forehead. "It's just that he now absolutely refuses to go near water, Scott. The shock was pretty intense. Even I felt it right before I ended up on my butt. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to get zapped every time he steps into a puddle."

"I wish there was a magic pill I could give him to cure aquaphobia," Scott said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know," Lisa sighed. "I just sold him yesterday to a guy in Montana. He's being shipped out on Sunday. I can't sell a 'defective' product."

"Want me to ask Amy if she can take the case?" Ty interjected, sympathetic to her situation.

Lisa contemplated. Involving Amy came with a risk. If Jack found out... She was grateful Ty had not asked any prying questions, seemingly aware the topic of her reappearance was verboten, but his suggestion was her best chance at fixing the problem.

"Okay," she eventually replied. "But could you—could you please tell her to keep it confidential...? Jack doesn't know I'm back, and I mean to keep it that way."

Ty nodded at her with understanding; Scott looked at her quizzically, but wisely held his tongue.

"Thanks," she said, blowing out a breath. "I hope she can figure him out before Sunday. But then again, she's always come through for me in the past. Go ahead, Ty. He's all yours."

"I'll get Cinders trailered out to Heartland right away," Ty said, taking hold of the lead rope.

Once Ty was safely on the way back to Heartland, Lisa carried on with some additional errands. As she drove, she came to the conclusion she was simply prolonging the inevitable. Even though I've sworn Scott, Ty and Tim to secrecy, walls have ears. Jack's going to know I'm here before the day is done, guaranteed.

**

Jack's sleep had been restive and uneasy. Katie's fright over the storm in addition to her irritability at missing Lou had not made for a peaceful night. Pete had sheepishly apologized for the toddler's cries, but the older man sympathized. He had been through those same parenting woes when Marion had been a baby, though he had admittedly missed months at a time of her growing up due to being on the rodeo circuit.

As Jack drove out to the town Yard Waste and Recycle Centre to deposit their dead branches and leaf sweepings, he wondered what his grandson-in-law was going to do if Katie continued to regress in her potty-training regimen. Clearly, these new parents had not counted on a lengthy separation between child and mother during this crucial time. Pete was doing his best, but it seemed not to be enough at this time.

He was still pondering this problem on his return trip to Heartland, slowly coming to the realisation there might not be any easy solutions. He was so engrossed in this mental exercise he had a double-take when he spotted a woman he thought he recognized on the side of the road.

Lisa?! he thought in a daze. It can't be.

But his eyes were not deceiving him. This was no case of mistaken identity as in times past when he thought he saw her in town. This was his old flame, quietly checking her mail like any other person. Only she was not any other person. She was the one who somehow managed to slip through his fingers. A subtle heat burned in his chest as he brought the truck to a slow roll before setting the brake.

Lisa is back. What is she doing here? Why is she back? Lisa is here.

Jack very nearly stumbled over his two feet on his approach. He could tell she heard his footsteps though he was trying to be stealthy.

"Hi, Lisa," he uttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been presented with this unexpected opportunity to talk with her.

She looked up almost guiltily at him.

Busted, Lisa thought. Here I am, trying to avoid Jack this whole time, and he has to spot me getting the mail. How silly is that?

Yet, her heart swelled at the sight of this cowboy, dressed as usual in his boots, jeans, plaid-patterned shirt, coat and hat. He looks healthy. I'm so glad. And now that she had seen him, every word she had once hoped to speak to him fled from her mind, leaving her tongue-tied. Her first instinct was to bolt from the scene rather than try to explain why she had not told him she was in Hudson. That same reticence seemed to be reflected in Jack's eyes; this unplanned encounter thoroughly throwing them both into an state of confusion.

They both mouthed meaningless words to each other, clumsily working through some semblance of a conversation that lasted less than a minute. Twin coals that once burned as one had turned stone cold, the former lovers behaving more like passing acquaintances. Absent from this meeting was any sense of excitement or jubilation; no crushing embrace or feverish kiss.

Jack's heart sank perceptibly when Lisa admitted she had been back for maybe a week—and that she was selling Fairfield.

"Well, I guess that was always the plan, wasn't it?" he spoke with an air of indifference, despite the chill brought on by the revelation. Yes, you always said you wanted to retire to France, Lisa. I never figured it would be so soon; and not without telling me, first.

Rather than prolong the sheer awkwardness of the encounter, Lisa excused herself, claiming—truthfully—she had a busy schedule to keep.

"'Bye'," she said, before turning to climb into the SUV.

"'Bye'," Jack managed to articulate, a lump forming in his throat watching her hasty retreat.

No "See you later" or "Let's catch up soon", and certainly not anything close to "I'm ready to make up".

Jack looked on a second or two while Lisa drove away, struck by the memory of another similar departure over a year prior, the one that had come as a sort of coda to their "break". Attempts had been made back then to repair that break; circumstances had not been in their favour.

"Not goodbye," he had corrected her at the time, a sad smile creasing his face. He remembered being heartsick at the prospect of suffering another lengthy separation from her, especially when their relationship was still so fractured.

"'til next time," she had repeated, her eyes misting, almost as if she sensed it could very well be the last time they ever saw each other.

The fact it almost was the last time they ever saw each other was not lost on Jack. His brush with death brought her rushing back. Now, he considered something new: Would she ever have come back if I had not had the heart attack? She did write that letter... But no. Just as swiftly as she had arrived, she had left him.

And now she's driving away again. For a fleeting moment he entertained the notion of chasing her down. No, that would be foolish, Jack thought, idly scratching the side of his face. She gave no indication she was happy to see me; let it go. That whole meeting went over like a lead balloon. Dejected, he paced back to his truck, trying to stem the flood of old memories of happier times with Lisa.

We're driving off in opposite directions. I'm going to Heartland, and she's going to Fairfield. She's selling Fairfield. I must have missed the realtor's signs, somehow. Jack knew how he had missed them, however, as he had taken to deliberately avoiding looking at Lisa's property any time his course took him along the stretch of road bordering it.

He could not help but remember the first time he had seen Fairfield up close. I was driving Lisa back after I told off that jerk of an ex-husband of hers. I was so happy that she still wanted to talk to me after leaving her stranded at the auction. She's so forgiving. Why did she give me a second chance? She accepted my apology so easily. I thought I had blown it.

His brain had been spinning at top speed throughout that drive, reaching for some way of asking her out on an honest-to-goodness date, but could think of no simple way to bring up the subject. Thank goodness she had provided an opening when she playfully asked if he had a plan in mind about how he was going to make it up to her. He had always felt comfortable and relaxed at his cabin, so before he even knew what he was saying, he asked if she was free to go fly fishing with him in a few weeks.

"Well, as a matter of fact... I do have something in mind about how to make it up to you..."

And she said "yes" so quickly, I almost couldn't believe my ears. What was I thinking asking a woman like Lisa out to a ratty old fishing cabin for a date?

Presently, Jack pulled back into Heartland. The sun was starting to go down, splashing golden rays across the open fields, highlighting the tops of the trees. He noticed Amy and Georgie in the jumping pen; the former taking a new horse around the course over what looked like empty liverpools. Heart and feet heavy, he dragged himself onto the porch and sank heavily into the bench, mind still full of that first date with her.

"To whatever it is," she had toasted them, a spark of warmth bursting in those blue eyes he already loved so dearly.

Whatever it was, Jack now thought with a doleful shake of his head. She didn't even tell me she was back in Hudson. After all we've been through, she didn't see it fit to tell me she was selling Fairfield. I deserved that much at least, didn't I?

But the more he tried to take umbrage at Lisa's lack of communication this time around, the more he was convicted of his own behaviour the last time they were together. She doesn't want anything to do with me after that falling out we had over that ridiculous hospital bed. The spark in her eyes was gone today. I never thought those eyes could look so cold... And sad.

It tormented him to know he was the proximate cause of that sadness and cold, impersonal reception.

**

Of all the dumb luck. I can't believe after all that avoidance, I had to run into Jack at the mailboxes. Lisa replayed that disappointing encounter, analysing each careless word spoken, wondering what she might have done differently. I honestly have no idea how to interpret how that went down back there, she thought. I don't know how to read that expression on Jack's face. Was he happy to see me? He didn't sound like it. And he certainly didn't sound surprised when I told him I was selling my place. What did I expect, anyway? That he would break down and beg me to stay? Oh, no. That's not Jack Bartlett's style. In fact, I have no idea at all what he was thinking. It's like we were almost strangers by the way we talked.

Lisa pulled onto the access road to Fairfield, flashing by the 'For Sale' sign. Her heart throbbed after concluding that might very well have been the last time she ever saw Jack. What a sour note to end things on, she mused bitterly. What a wasted opportunity.

Business concerns soon took over once again as she was obliged to inspect the clean-up job done by the landscaping company. Everything looked ship-shape; Fairfield would be more than ready for prospective buyers the realtor wished to bring for a viewing.

Out of nowhere, a distant memory of Val Stanton's mocking voice surfaced. "So, you'll be living at Fairfield, then?"

Lisa paused in her tracks, swept up in the residual irritation of that long-ago exchange. "Jack did hit the jackpot, didn't he?" Val had teased, though she seemed to know she was poking at one of Lisa's private insecurities. "I'm sure you'll have an ironclad pre-nup."

Val's thinly veiled antagonism stirred up feelings of resentment now. Jack and Lisa's hasty engagement was over just as quickly as it had begun, all because they truly had not seriously considered how their lives would come together in a practical sense. Oh, we had the romantic side figured out, Lisa acknowledged, but now even that's gone. No engagement, no marriage. We'll never be together at Fairfield now, and we certainly won't ever have France. Our relationship is officially road-kill, and I'll bet Val the Vulture is still lurking around, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

**

Next Chapter: Chapter 24: Things I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You

[alj4890]

And Then I Met You

What happens when the one you thought you were meant for turns out to be meant for someone else?

A\N Choices Fan Fiction with characters from The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match

@lxaah11   @alleksa16   @penguininapinktuxedo   @blackcoffee85   @stopforamoment     @hopelessromantic1352     @krsnlove     @annekebbphotography        @hopelessromantic1352   . @sunflowergirl05   @desireepow-1986  @greywitchyshots   @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories  @emceesynonymroll   @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms   @ab1901     @lolablackwrites     @flyawayboo   @i-bloody-love-drake-walker   . @trappedinfandoms   @kate-mckenzie

Masterlist

Part 26

Cormery Isle, Cordonia...

"Welcome, your grace." Thurston bowed while kissing Olivia's hand. "It has been some time since we have been fortunate enough to host the Duchess of Lythikos."

"Yes, it has." She focused her attention to the two young ladies beside him and smiled. "And how are the ladies of Cormery Isle?"

"We are--" Blair began.

"Awful." Arabella interrupted. "That's why I asked for you to come."

                                                                                                                        "What's this?" Thurston asked.

"Bella, I don't want you worrying about--" Blair's voice cracked causing her to take a stuttering breath to regain her calm.

"You're my sister!" Arabella snapped. "I'm not about to let that witch take away your chance at happiness." She returned her sharp-eyed gaze to Olivia, the very duchess who had stepped up to be a mentor when her mother died. "Remember the promise you made me?"

 "I do." Olivia replied. "That's why I'm here instead of Ramsford."

Thurston, still perplexed, waved toward his study. "Perhaps we should take this discussion somewhere a bit more private."

With a regal nod, the scarlet duchess led the way inside.

"See that we are not disturbed." The earl whispered to his butler. "Especially by my son."

With an ominous click, the door shut in the bewildered servant's face.

***************

St Orella, Cordonia...

 The ballroom was filled with extras, dressed in Regency Era clothing, dancing the Cordonian Waltz.

Amanda sat beside Thomas with a set of headphones on. Her eyes were glued to the screen in front of them as they watched and listened to Chris (as Reginald) and Jessica (as Elizabeth) speak their lines all while keeping up with the dance steps. Ryan (as Arthur) was waiting on his cue to make a dramatic entrance.

"I was unaware he was returning." Elizabeth insisted. "I haven't spoken to Lord Arthur since he was sent away."

Reginald clinched his jaw. Wanting to believe the woman he was set to marry and was now losing his heart to warred with his suspicion over the man his intended had once been involved with.

Elizabeth blinked back tears. She couldn't stand to see the man whose kindness and gentle humor she had grown accustomed to being replaced with such self-doubt. Knowing it was frowned upon for a lady to initiate such,  yet needing to show him that he was the one winning her heart, she captured his lips in an achingly tender kiss.

Reginald tightened his arms around her as he sank into her embrace. His lips curved against hers when he heard her slight gasp when he kissed her again.

A throat cleared beside them.

Arthur's face was unreadable as he spoke with little inflection. "Time to switch partners."

He took Elizabeth in his arms and waltzed off with her.

"Arthur!" Elizabeth shrieked when he swung her outside to the courtyard. "What do you think you are doing?!"

"I thought I was doing what any man would do after being reunited with the woman who claimed to love him." He cornered her against the balustrade. "I didn't expect you to find another so soon."

Elizabeth glared at him. "The Queen arranged my betrothal to Sir Reginald."

"Ah," his eyes narrowed. "And you took it upon yourself to make him feel so loved."

"You left me!" She cried out. "Without a word or a promise! I had to obey her. She is my guardian and I--"

Arthur grasped her arms and shook her. "I left you my heart! How quickly you dismissed it is yet to be discovered." His hooded eyes dropped to her mouth. "Perhaps you need a reminder of what was once between us."

"No--" she pushed against his chest when he slammed his mouth on hers.

"Unhand her!" Reginald ripped Arthur away.

Elizabeth fell back against the balustrade, anxiously looking from one man to the other.

"She is not yours." Arthur informed him. "She never will be as long as there is breath in my body."                                                                                                                                                                Reginald's voice had a deadly edge that Elizabeth had never heard before. "She is the woman I am going to marry. Blessed and given to me by the Queen." Reginald’s gaze softened for a moment when he turned toward Elizabeth. "You sir, have no rights to my intended." He continued.

"I claim the rights of her heart." Arthur countered. "Before I was sent away, she let it be known that I was what she wanted." His typical, confident smirk formed. "Looks like you are too late to win such."

Elizabeth's heart ached when Reginald seemed to falter at Arthur's arguments.

Their eyes met and she saw all the uncertainty he suffered with.

He had done everything he knew to do to win her love. She knew that he did not have to make such an effort when she was already promised to marry him. Knowing he did so because he cared for her and their future made her long to be with him.

She then focused on the man she had first loved. Arthur had opened her eyes to how deep that emotion could be. It was an almost desperate love, one filled with passion and need. How could she even contemplate another's attentions when he had laid his heart at her feet?

Her eyes continued to flicker back and forth between the two. With a cry of frustration, she gathered her skirts and ran blindly through the ballroom.

Her closest confidante, Lady Marija, followed her. She stopped the fleeing duchess at the foot of the stairs.

"Liza! Wait!" She gently grasped her friend's hands. "You're trembling. What happened?"

"Oh Marija." She swiped at the tears falling, "What am I to do?" She buried her face against her friend's shoulder. "Arthur has returned and Reginald thinks I do not love him and..."

Marija listened while looking back behind her for the men they were discussing. Her own face revealed how much this hurt her for her dearest friend and the two gentlemen…especially Lord Arthur. "Who do you love?"

Elizabeth straightened her posture and shook her head. "I love them both. Somehow, they each made me fall in love with them." Her blue eyes shimmered with her tears in the candlelight. "What am I to do?"

Marija stepped back. For once in her life, she was determined to see what future was about to be laid before them. "Liza, who can you see yourself married to? Having children with?"

Elizabeth turned her gaze to the two men standing in the ballroom. Her heart raced with the thought of having a home with only one.

“Reginald. He is the only man I can see having a life with.” Elizabeth’s tearful smile appeared. “Oh Marija, I love him with my entire heart.”

 "Cut!" Thomas yelled out.

Amanda removed the headphones and quickly wiped the tears that had come to her own eyes. This part of her ancestor's story had always hurt her.

Perhaps it was because she had known what it was like to love one and fall in love with another. The doubt about one's own heart if it fell too quickly and so easily for another. Worrying you might hurt the one you now claimed to love.

"What do you think?" Thomas asked, as Addison hurried to repair a tear in one of the extra's dresses.

"It's incredible." Amanda replied. "Seeing it brought to life is just..." She searched for a tissue to wipe the stray tears. "I can't imagine it done any other way."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pleased she approved of how he handled this scene and yelled out to set up for the next one.

"Where are you going?" He asked when she eased out of her chair.

A slight blush formed on her cheeks. "I know it sounds silly, but I'm going to the portrait gallery." Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I need a reminder that she ended up with her happily ever after with Reginald."

Before he had a chance to say anything more, she turned on her heel and left the ballroom.

***************

Cormery Isle, Cordonia...

 "You want Tariq for a husband?" Thurston asked.

"I love him, Father." Blair admitted. "I always have. Knowing how highly you and mother thought of him made my feelings even more right."

"And that's why we have to get rid of Lauren." Arabella explained. "After closely spying on her these past couple of weeks, I have discovered that she is secretly pursuing Neville. Though, thankfully our brother no longer pays her any attention."

"What?!" Blair screeched. "She is using the man I love and my brother?!"

Thurston's expression hardened to one of cold hatred. "That interloper has no idea the enemy she has just made."

"You're not the only one." Olivia remarked. "Lauren Benefield tried to end Amanda Bridgerton's marriage to Thomas Hunt. She has incurred not only my wrath for going after my friend but those of Prince Liam and House Beaumont."

"So, you will help us?" Arabella asked, hope tinging her voice. "I knew you would!"

"I would have regardless because of my promise to you as your mentor." Olivia corrected. "I'm merely letting you know how those of us who know Lauren truly feel." Her green eyes leveled on Lord Thurston. "And I believe you, sir, especially hold ill will toward her after going after Amanda."

"Indeed." His deep voice rumbled with his mounting anger. "Our family owes a debt to hers."

"Lady Amanda saved me from embarrassing myself during my first ball at the palace." Blair added.

"She did?" Thurston leaned forward. "You never told me that."

Blair's cheeks heated when all eyes turned to her. "When I was leaving the powder room, I was too excited to return to the ballroom and did not check my dress. Lady Amanda was coming in as I was exiting and smiled at me. She then grabbed my arm and pulled me back inside. The back of my dress had gotten caught in my pantyhose."

"Your bottom was showing?!" Thurston softly cursed then apologized to the ladies. "You would have been the laughingstock of the entire court had she not saved you."

Blair nodded. "If I had known that this woman Neville and Tariq had brought home was treating Amanda so horribly, I would have likely poisoned her tea."

"Tempting." Olivia remarked. "We have all been tempted to do that." She stood and paced before them. “What I am about to say cannot leave this room.”

When each nodded, she continued. “I will be leaving tomorrow evening for Monterisso to speak with Queen Amalas.”

“The spy queen!” Thurston sputtered. “Whatever for?”

“There have been some discoveries of Ms. Benefield’s activities along with those of Viktor Montmarte. With what I already uncovered and anticipate in finding, I suggest you do all you can to distance yourselves from this actress.”

“Activities?” Blair repeated. “What has she—”

“No.” Thurston gently cut off his daughter. “If Lady Olivia insists that the less we know the better off we will be, then I will not question her.”

“A wise decision.” Olivia added. “What you need to focus on is finding a way for Tariq to break off the engagement. I would also suggest keeping Neville from her in case she tries to trap him in some sort of scandal.” Her eyes narrowed. “Things will only get worse once the wheels of vengeance are in motion.”

"I've been thinking of a way to do that, especially since Tariq has been spending more time with Blair." Arabella added. "I think he is seeing how horrible Lauren is when compared to how sweet Blair is to him."

Her sister blushed even more.

Thurston actually smiled seeing his daughter look as her late mother did when he courted her. "If Tariq is who your heart is set on, then he is the man you shall have."

"Father! Thank you!" Blair rushed over to hug him and kiss his cheek. "Nothing would make me happier than marrying him."

He gently patted her cheek. "I would be proud to call him my son." He stood up and was once again stern, roiling with anger. "I agree with her grace." He paced before them. "The only way your brother and Tariq will get over this actress is by showing them what she truly is."

"Blair’s birthday is in a few days.” Arabella pointed out. “We usually start the day with an early morning horseback ride.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “I had planned on somehow getting Lauren to lose that sweet act she tries to maintain in front of everyone.”

"Very good." Olivia smiled at her. "Nothing to make a person more vulnerable than out in the wilderness."

The young lady beamed with pride over her mentor's words and her father's proud smile.

"It can also be a way to show Tariq what a proper lady Blair is." He added.

"Once Lauren’s engagement is broken, Liam has a plan in place to remove her from our country." Olivia informed them. "Ms. Benefield will no longer find sanctuary in Cordonia.” A smile filled with hints of evil formed. “I wonder where she will try to go. Her home in Hollywood won’t be safe either once my plan is enacted. She has ruined or tried to ruin the lives of many people within the motion picture industry and those who have inherited wealth. No one will be willing to help her."

                                                                                                                              "To go after the Duchess and her Duke of St Orella, and two of Cordonia's Lords should be enough to ruin her in the eyes of the world." Thurston grumbled. "She should never have attacked Cordonia's finest."

"I agree." Olivia rose from her chair. "With your permission, I would like to stay here until my flight tomorrow." Her smile held a great deal of evil intent. "Nothing could bring me greater joy than seeing the one who dared to cross my friend begin her downfall."

Arabella entwined her arm with Olivia's. "You are more than welcome to, and I hope you also participate in it. Vengeance is a dish best shared."

**************

Later that evening, Cormery Isle...

"Neville!" Lauren chased after him as he began his descent downstairs.

He braced himself and turned toward her. "Yes?"

She forced a flirtatious smile on her face. "We haven't had a chance to speak privately." She pouted in a way she knew most men couldn't resist and trailed a finger down the buttons of his shirt. "I think we have a few things that need to be thoroughly discussed." She leaned in close to let her lips brush his ear. "Explore how things should be between us."

                                                                                                                            He jerked away from her. "I think we have said all that needs to be said."

Her eyes narrowed when he turned his back on her and continued downstairs.

"What about your proposal?" She called out. "I bet my fiancé would be interested in hearing that his so-called best friend insisted I call off my engagement and marry him instead."

Neville froze on the stairs. The glare he sent over his shoulder normally caused commoners to tremble, yet she met it with a defiant smile.

"The proposal is no longer on the table." He informed her. Deciding to punish her for her empty threat, his lips curved at his next sentence. "You didn't call it off when I asked you to, therefore I have moved on to more attractive prospects."

Her eyes widened. "What?! But you said--"

He turned his back once more on her, calmly continuing down to dinner.

As he turned the corner, he heard her frustrated screech.

"What on earth--oh it's you." Arabella appeared on the stairs. "I could have sworn I heard a cat being tortured somewhere."

Enraged already with the Vancoeur's, Lauren tried to slap the teenager.

Instead she ended up raising a hand to her own stinging cheek.

Arabella stepped closer to her; eyes narrowed. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

"You slapped me!" Lauren gasped.

"You were about to slap me." She reminded her. "Now you know how foolish it is to try."

"You little bitch, I’ll beat--"

 "Is there a problem?"

Both looked up at Olivia.

"Is there?" Arabella asked Lauren.

Knowing she was no match for the two of them, she shook her head. "No."

"I didn't think so." Olivia chided. She smiled warmly at Arabella. "I see you kept up with the lessons I taught you."

"Of course, I did." She replied smugly.

The two noble ladies laughed and walked off, leaving the stunned actress fuming in their wake.

Lauren gripped the banister, her mind whirling with plans of revenge for the noble family.

“Ms. Benefield? Is anything wrong?” Blair asked, pausing beside her.

“You.” Lauren hissed. “Do you think I don’t see what you and your sister are doing.”

Blair remained calm. “Doing?”

The actress moved quickly, twisting a hand in Blair’s hair, giving it a vicious jerk.

Blair’s stubbornness refused to allow her to cry out. Her eyes narrowed with unshed tears as she spoke in a commanding tone that every noble possessed. “Let me go. NOW.”

“Don’t think I am going to allow these childish games of yours to ruin my engagement to Tariq.” She tightened her hold on the younger woman. “I see how you look at him. Your little crush will end. He’s mine. He and this life you all live will be mine.” She smiled at her. “If you try anything, you and your sister will face my vengeance.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “And you cannot begin to imagine what I will do to you.”

She let her go and continued to the dining room.

Blair waited until she was no longer able to see her then slowly dropped down, trembling, to sit on the stairs. She wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself.

She was more determined than ever to see this woman destroyed.

“Blair?”

She looked up with a start. “Tariq!” She struggled to her feet. “Did you—”

“I heard everything.” He whispered. “Thank you for warning me.” He swallowed and gently smoothed her hair back. “Seeing her attack each of you, I had to fight myself to keep from trying to intervene.”

She smiled warmly at him. “You’ve always looked out for us.”

His eyes drifted over her face. “Blair, when Lauren said you have a—I mean, do you—”

She nodded. “I do. I always have.” She gripped his hand. “I always will. That’s why I had to tell you what type of woman Lauren is. I know Arabella and Olivia wanted a more dramatic reveal, but I know you. You are not the type of man who would want to cause a scandal when circumstances could be resolved quickly and quietly.”

“You know me better than anyone.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

She took his arm. “Shall we go to dinner, my lord?”

“Yes.” His tone hardened with what was before him. “Let’s get this evening over with.”

**************

St Orella, Cordonia...

 After wrapping up the day's shooting, Thomas searched the downstairs rooms his wife normally could be found in.

"Hudson?" He called out to the butler.

"Yes, your grace?" Hudson paused within the doorway.

"Have you seen my wife?"

"Forgive me, your grace. Lady Amanda said she was retiring early this evening."

"She wasn't ill, was she?" Thomas asked.

"Not that I am aware of, sir."

"Thank you." Thomas locked his notes in the desk drawer of the study and hurried upstairs.

He paused outside their bedroom, unsure if something had upset Amanda earlier.

She had never returned to see the next scene filmed.

He carefully opened the door and stuck his head in.

Amanda looked up from the book she was reading and smiled. "There you are. How did it go?"

His shoulders relaxed as he came in and shut the door. With a few quick strides he eased onto the bed to kiss her.

"It either went very well and you’re here to celebrate or horribly wrong and you now need encouragement." She teased when he pulled her on top of him.

"It went well." He gently caressed her cheek. "What happened earlier? You never came back."

"Nothing, I just had the desire to reread Elizabeth's diary. I wanted to make certain I had gotten her talk with Marija right." Amanda explained. "It always hurt me for her, Reginald, and Arthur to be in such torment during that dance."

His lips eased into a smile. "Everything worked out though. Elizabeth ended up with her true love. Even Arthur was able to find happiness with Marija."

"I know." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Seeing it unfold though, knowing the anguish she felt in that moment by her own words, it just..."

She sighed. "I'm being foolish."

"You aren't." He pulled her down for a kiss. "The scene with her breaking up the duel and choosing Reginald will be one that I know will strike an emotional chord for me."

"Why that one?" Amanda slid off him and laid on her side.

Thomas turned toward her. "Because I know without that moment, you wouldn't be here."

"Thomas." Amanda captured his lips in a deep kiss. "That might be one of the sweetest things you've ever said."

 He slipped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. "Each time I read over that scene; I can't help but think of what my life would be like if you didn't exist."

Her lips curved. "You would have the life you had before we met." She gently ran the back of her fingers along his jaw. "You weren't unhappy."

"That is because I didn't know how happy I could be." He softly kissed her palm. "I was unaware how falling in love with the right person could alter one's life and outlook." He tightened his arms around her. "Now that I do, I intend on never letting you go."

"I knew what could happen if I fell in love with a man who returned my feelings." She whispered. "I just didn't realize how it would feel." She met his lips in a tender embrace. "I didn't know I could love one man with everything within me and find absolute joy in doing so."

"Amanda, if our grandchild, seven generations from now, reads your journal," his eyes met hers, "what type of story would they find?"

She slowly smiled and pressed her forehead to his. "A passionate love story filled with moments of unbridled happiness."

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Terror in Wessex

Chapter Seventeen

Word Count 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of blood, torture, mentions of rape (no details, just implied), heavy angst

When Hvitserk heard those double doors open, his heart dropped. He knew what that symbolized, and that was his worst fear: him losing you. He rushed Ivar's room and just as he expected, you were gone. Except this is real and not a vision. Where you would normally lay, are a few blood drops in the fur that would cover your body. He almost threw up at the sight but kept himself composed. 

Hvitserk "Ivar...IVAR!" His brother looked over at him and then next to where you would lay. 

Ivar "The guard's-the guard's were supposed to keep watch!" 

Hvitserk "Go see for yourself." Hvitserk knew what his brother would witness as soon as he walked out of those doors, but he didn't want to tell him himself. Ivar needed to witness what happened this horrible night. 

When Ivar opened up the doors fully, there were drag marks in the snow so he followed it. He pauses when he sees the first set of guardsmen that were positioned by the doors. Their throats were slit and they were disarmed. Ivar looks back at his brother, who is standing in the doorway, not moving. Ivar walks on with shaking legs, so scared of what he might witness next. But with his head up, he walked on and followed the drag marks. He can see many more of his men, deceased in the snow. The white, crisp snow is now stained with red blood. The smell is starting to set into the air around him, but him being a viking, is used to such a smell as death. 

Hvitserk "She isn't here!" He shouted from inside. 

Ivar stops in his tracks and his head falls to the ground. He shouldn't have hoped that the vision came true. Why did he hope for such a thing? He walks on, searching for any sign of you but there was none. Your dragon's are whimpering, growling and breathing fire trying to find you. Ivar walks over to them and tries to comfort them but it was no use. He looks behind your dragon's, where the trading post is and finds a blood pile but no body. He falls to the ground and starts to cry. Hvitserk joins him a short while after and sits down in the cold snow.

Hvitserk "How did you let this happen?"

Ivar "I did everything I could-"

Hvitserk "YOU SLEPT BESIDE HER! HOW DID YOU NOT WAKE? She was right next to you, Ivar! But for some reason you did not wake up. Or did you?"

Ivar "N-no I did not. I don't know why I didn't."

Hvitserk "Now, we lost her and many of our guardsmen. We have no idea who took her nor do we know where she is being taken to."

Ivar "I will find out who and where she is Hvitserk. Even if it is the last thing that I do." Hvitserk just scuffs and gets off of the ground and stumbles his way back inside. Ivar lays alone, dragon's frantic behind him, staring at the blood that he knows must be yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awake in a dark dungeon-type of place. You attempt to get yourself up and run but your body soon let's you know that you cannot do that. You touch your head and wince out in pain. Your chest feels like you can barely breathe, and it feels like all of your ribs are broken. Your nails are all broken off and your wedding ring is gone. Your legs are scratched to all hell and are freezing. Where are you? You look all around, trying to familiarize yourself. You crawl your way up to the barred window where the small source of light is coming from.

Once your eyes adjust to the scenery, you know exactly where you are. You are home. You fall back down and sob uncontrollably. Why did he take you, and for what purpose? He banned you, so why did he bring you back? And why did he beat you this badly? You let out a scream. A shriek, to be exact. When you do, you can hear footsteps coming from outside of your cell door. You crawl your way into the corner, and hold your limbs close to your body, even though it causes you so much pain. When the door opens, your father appears in the doorway. 

Father "Hello little one. Finally awake, are we?"

"W-why am I here? You banished me!"

Father "Ah yes, that. That is in the past now."

"Why am I here? Why did you beat your only daughter?! Haven't I endured enough torment?!"

Father "I was not responsible for your beatings, dear one."

"Then who was?" You watch as your father smirks at you. He turns his attention to the doorway. You are confused for only a moment. That is, until your sworn enemy comes through the door: King Harald.

Harald "Hello, Y/n. Have you missed me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hvitserk did not sleep a wink the remainder of the night. He just paced and paced in his room and in yours. He saw your dresses, your accessories, and cried. Cried because he couldn't save you. Cried because the only woman that he has loved since Thora, is gone and he doesn't know what to do. Where to begin. Once Ubbe is awake, he finds his brother's in absolute dispar. 

Ubbe "What happened here?!"

Hvitserk "It came true, Ubbe. My vision. It came true. I lost her."

Ubbe "But the guard's-"

Ivar "Dead. All of them are dead. The one's on duty, that is. Completely massacred."

Ubbe "Who would've done this?!"

Ivar "Greatest guess, her father. But I could be wrong."

Hvitserk "It has to be him, Ivar. He is the only one that has harmed her in the past."

Ivar "That is not completely true."

Ubbe "Than who else, hmm?"

Ivar "King Harald. He killed her mother. So why couldn't it be him? I mean, don't you remember her vision?!"

Hvitserk "Of when he came to Kattegat?" Ivar nods, "Yes, of course I remember."

Ivar "I say we hunt King Harald down. He must know something."

Ubbe "And if he does not?"

Ivar "Then we go to Wessex."

Hvitserk "We should do that first."

Ivar "You are not king! I am, have you forgotten brother, hm?" Hvitserk chuckles and then clenches his jaw. 

Hvitserk "No, I have not forgotten. I also have not forgotten that you were beside her when she was taken, Ivar. Is she here, hm? Is she here, because I can't find her anywhere! And you could've saved her."

Ivar "I did my best-"

Hvitserk "Your best? YOUR BEST?!" Did you not see all of the blood by the trading bank? What if she is gone, hmm? What are you going to do?"

Ivar "I wouldn't worry about that too much, Hvitserk. Life goes on!"

Ubbe "Ivar!" 

Ivar "What?"

Ubbe "Your wife is missing, and possibly very injured. Show some respect!" 

Ivar "I am. I have already ordered my men to prepare our ships.

Ubbe "Good."

Hvitserk gets up and walks away. He is so infuriated that he has to get away from Ivar before he does something that he would regret doing later. How could he say that? How would life go on without her? She is with child. She is his queen, his wife. He feels sick to his stomach. Hvitserk just wants you back home, safely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing King Harald standing beside your father like they are the closest of allies, made you feel more terrified than ever. 

"What are you doing here?"

Harald "Well I am here by your father's request. Y'see we have made an agreement."

"And what is this agreement?"

Harald "Your father will give me anything I desire in this entire world, if I let him stay the King of Wessex."

"And what do you desire? Why am I here?"

Harald "You are what I desire, Y/n. You and your dragon's...fascinate me. You are so unique, so different for anyone else I have ever met. And your dragon's, well...they can be very useful."

"YOU ARE NEVER GETTING MY DRAGON'S!" 

Harald and your father chuckle, "Y'see you are not in any condition to be making such a statement. Look at you, broken and frail."

"Just let me go."

Harald "Oh but I want to get use out of you first!"

"I AM WITH CHILD!" Your father takes a step back. Completely stunned. 

Father "You are what?"

"I am with child. Your grandchild."

Father "You lie! Your husband cannot impregnate you!"

"I am WITH CHILD!" 

Harald "What do we do?"

Father thinks only for a moment, "Beat her for lying to me. Then do whatever you wish to do with her. Just make it quick." 

"No, no, NO!" You scream and shout but it is no use. He hits you, beats you almost to unconsciousness. And then takes you. Uses you as an object for his perverted needs as you sob and beg for mercy. He does not let you go. To him, you are his little price, his little toy that he can do whatever he wants to. Once he is finished with you, he hits you one more time. Hard and powerful. But not just anywhere, no no no...in your belly. You cry hysterically as you hold your belly, still small but growing slowly. Praying that she is okay. You lay on the floor, bleeding from pretty much every area of your body and pray, pray to the gods to let you and your child make it out of this alive. 

"Hvitserk...Ivar...where are you?" You say out loud, as if they could hear you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar looks up at the sky, as if he can hear something. Almost a whisper but it is so clear. Clear to him as if the voice was directly next to him. 

"Hvitserk...Ivar...where are you?" 

Ivar "YN?" He turned around but no one was there, especially was not you. He knows that you and him have a connection. Ever since that dream of you before he met you, he knew that you and him were connected not only in marriage but in mind. Meanwhile, Hvitserk is in the middle of another breakdown when he hears your voice in his head. He gets up and runs all around the house, searching for you. But of course, you are still gone. So he searches for his brother next, finding him with your dragon's. 

Hvitserk "Did you hear her?"

Ivar "You heard her too?!"

Hvitserk "Yes. She's...she's alive."

Ivar "We have to go save her. Before it is too late."

Hvitserk whispers to himself, "Hang in there, baby. We're coming. Just hold on. Stay with me."

…

You hear the man that always comes to save you, and you hear him loud and clear. You look down at your belly and smile. 

"Daddy is coming, little one. Hold on for me, please...please stay with us." You look down at the blood coming out between your legs and breathe in deeply. You try not to think about the pain that you are in, and try to think about being saved. You have to be saved. You are not ready for Valhalla. 

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @jzr201 @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @conaionaru @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @kaitieskidmore1 @heavenly1927 @saldelys

[shreddedparchment]

Heavy is the Hand You’re Dealt

Part 6

09/23/2019

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Thor x Reader         Word Count: 5,300

Prompt: Imposter - Bearson

Warnings: smut, language, angst again, puppy Thor, just Thor really

A/N: This is for @youngmoneymilla​ ‘s 5K Writing Challenge. Enjoy. Smut. Good smut I hope? The dam finally broke. I’ve been having such trouble getting this chapter out and I know it’s because of my mood swings but hopefully this means I’ve overcome it for now. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. I know I haven’t been replying to all comments but I do read them all and they make me so flippin happy. Please continue to let me know what you love and what you think. It means so much to me. xoxo

Steve is shameless.

Not only does he come back for you. But he also decides, after your little display of affection and love proclamation with Thor in the common room, that he’s going to leave without telling you.

He tries to anyway.

A digital ding from your phone pulls you out of your drifting. You’d been on the edge of sleep, Thor’s arms are wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in against your neck. As you pull your arm back from around his massive shoulders, he groans in complaint.

“It’s late.” He mumbles, more asleep than awake.

“Keep sleeping.” You whisper to him, kissing his head before turning onto your side to reach for your phone.

You blink against the blinding white of the display as you navigate against the burn of your retinas until you find your messages.

Bucky: He’s leaving. Correction. He’s sneaking off. Bruce’s lab.

You almost scoff but instead stare at the screen silently.

“Thor?” You check, but he breathes in heavily and breathes out slowly. “Puppy?”

You turn in his arms which have loosened a bit.

“Thor, Steve is leaving.” You whisper to him.

He frowns and pulls you closer, chest to chest, his nose buried against your throat. You’d been holding him, so he’s a little lower on the bed than you. His feet dangling over the edge. You need to get a bigger bed.

“I should go see him.” You whisper again, and this time, Thor opens his eyes. “He can’t just leave like this.”

He’s staring at your chest, silently waging a war in his head. When he looks up at you, his one blue and one amber eyes are dulled from the spark that had ignited them last night on the sofa when he’d played you his song and then you’d told him you love him.

“Hey,” You begin, softly pushing back the hair of his beard, tucking strands of his golden hair behind his ear—he shuts his eyes as your fingers graze his scalp and pulls you back against him, burying his face against your chest. “I’m just going to say goodbye.”

Shit, maybe you shouldn’t go?

He speaks, his warm breath warming the front of your pajama top. You can’t make out what he says because his lips are buried between your breasts. All you hear is a mumbling, accompanied by the deep hum that reverberates in your chest as he speaks.

“What?”

He pulls back, searching. “I’ll wait here.”

His lips are contorted into a small pout. It’s so slight that you’d have to be anyone else to not see it. You can also tell that it’s not out of anger but rather fear.

“I’ll come right back to you.” You promise him.

“Would it be terrible of me to admit that I’d rather you stayed?” Thor asks, and you’ve made up your mind. You’re not going.

“I won’t go.”

“No.” He gasps, shocked by your declaration. “No. You must go.”

“I don’t have to.”

“But you do. I know that you probably still have things to say to him and he will want to tell you goodbye. Wish us congratulations on the little one that does not exist.” He says, your heart aching.

You’ve seen the way he looks down at your stomach in disappointment every now and then.

You cup his cheeks, pulling him close to kiss his lips. Just a peck that makes a low quiet smack as you pull away.

“I’m just not ready, Thor. But…I’m not saying no.” You need to get used to this idea that you actually have a future again. A real one. One with marriage? Kids?

For so long you’ve contemplated and accepted the fact that this job is all your life would be. You’d accepted it. You even liked it a bit.

You want to keep saving people.

You’re no one special, mind you. No powers. No particularly amazing skill. You aren’t naturally good at anything other than being passionate and throwing yourself into whatever project you choose.

And that’s seemed like enough until now. You’ve taken down more bad guys this year than all four field S.T.R.I.K.E. teams combined.

You like the joy that you feel when you know that you’ve made someone’s life safer. Better.

You keep tabs on the areas that you’ve cleared. The village where you’d almost died, the one that gave you your big scar, has prospered since your mission there. The schools are full again. The market is thriving.

It makes you happy.

You’ll keep chasing that joy until you must stop. Only, now you can have Thor at your side. That makes you happy too. Such a sweet bliss it brings you. Warm and fulfilling. A whole new piece of the puzzle.

You love him so much it hurts. How had it happened so quickly?

You stroke his hair, moving it away from his forehead with a soft gentle grazing with the pads of your fingertips.

“I know. And I don’t want you to think that I am trying to pressure you into anything. We have only been together a couple of months. Even if I know that you are going to be my wife someday, I want to enjoy every moment I have with you. But…I need you to know something.” He finishes ominously, looking down at your chest.

“What?” You wonder, suddenly worried.

He looks up to meet your eyes once again. “You are mine. And I am yours. I will follow you into any battle. Any challenge. With Mjolnir, we might even be able to grow old together. Which reminds me, I really need you to stay worthy so, if you could somehow manage to keep from corrupting yourself, I’d very much appreciate it.”

You chuckle, shutting your eyes as his lips part into a wry smile at his request.

“I’ll try my best.” You shake your head, meeting his gaze again.

“I mean it, little dove.” He relaxes his smile; he means what he’s saying. “You are mine and I need you. If you cannot be at my side, then I shall be at yours. If you must go somewhere, I will follow. I don’t want to be parted from you. Ever, if we can help it. You are my mooring post and I your sturdy ship. I love you. I know I’ve said it to you a hundred times in the last week and especially since last night, but I mean every iteration.”

He reaches up to tuck your hair back, caressing the back of your head as you bring your hand up to touch his. “I love you.”

You want to say it back. You want to tell him that you love him, because you really do! You love him and who you are when you’re with him and what you give him and the fact that you can make him happy and it seems like he’s so satisfied with you that he could never want for anything more in his life.

And though you may really want to let him know all of this, that he’s the anchor keeping you from bolting again, all you can do is kiss him.

You press your lips to his and he returns the kiss eagerly. Although you hate to do it, you cut it short, pulling back after only two seconds. Resting your forehead against his, you keep your eyes shut.

This would be the perfect time to make sure that he knows that you love him.

Instead, you say, “I’ll be back.”

You get up and make for the door.

“Good luck.” He tells you a little sadly as you hesitate over the threshold.

With a look back at him, laying on his side, hand slowly caressing the spot you’d just been in. Moving up and down along your silk mauve sheets as he sends you a small smile of encouragement.

You cherish the sight, heart thumping madly for him. Your large imposing puppy, arms bulging, chest wide, tummy hidden by the sheets. His golden hair falls around him like a flare of light behind him.

Knowing that he’s here, waiting for you to come back helps you overcome what fear you have left and with a loving smile, you head for Bruce’s lab.

You nearly charge into the lab but slow down as you approach, listening to two people bicker. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you think you know.

As they come into view, you find Bucky with his metal hand held in front of him palm up. With the back of his flesh hand, he slaps his palm as he says something angrily. He’s dressed in his pajamas, soft low slung black pants with thin silver stripes and a plain white tank.

His hair is mussed which means he’d been woken up from a deep sleep.

In front of him, taking his scolding with a clenched jaw and a frown is Steve, dressed in that familiar red and white Quantum suit.

With a painful lurch in your chest, you’re reminded of the last day that you saw Nat and you whimper because you miss her so much and you wish she were here because she’d have told you if you are right or wrong.

Actually, you can kind of already hear her, “Steve’s a dumbass. He’s my family. I love him, and I understand what he’s doing but if you ask me, you’re much better for him. Really. If his mind was on the now, then he’d see that, but it isn’t. He just can’t move on. He’s an idiot.

“Y/N, I know you love him and I’m really sorry that you’re hurting but you’re better off. Peggy’s been all he can think about since he woke up after the ice. I know it’s not what you want to hear.

“I think maybe he was moving on with you, but—and I say this because I love you and you need to hear it—you would have still been his second choice. He’d be with you because she isn’t around.

“You deserve better than that.”

Yes, you damn well do deserve to be someone’s first choice. And with Thor you are. After everything you’ve been through, he’s your first choice now too.

When did that happen?

Steve hears your small cry and his storm blue eyes flash up to meet yours.

He blinks, stunned, then looks at Bucky. “You called her?”

Bucky drops his hands.

“You need to start delivering on the man that I know you are, Steve. The Steve I know wouldn’t run. Besides, she deserves more than to wake up tomorrow and find you gone again.” Bucky sighs.

He looks back at you as you step into the lab, fidgeting with the bottom hem of Thor’s big white t-shirt. Your pajamas as of late along with a pair of short dark blue sleep shorts underneath, just barely visible under the hem of the shirt.

“I’ll give you two a minute.” He says, then turns and moves out of the lab leaving you alone with Steve, six feet away.

You stare at him, taking in the sight of him, painful as it is. This must be what he’d looked like when he first left. An event you’d hidden in a closet through.

You remember wishing that the closet would collapse around you. Crush you. You wanted to be suffocated in darkness and in a way you kind of were for a while.

Not this time.

This time, you stand with your shoulders back, chin slightly tilted, and eyes unrelenting. The ghost of electricity making your skin warm. Thor’s and your surge. Both taste the same. Thor’s feels better.

“You were seriously going to just leave in the middle of the night?” You demand, angry again but also confused.

This Steve that you’ve gotten to know—this side of him—you don’t recognize him. He’s such a far cry from the man that Bruce had told you stood face to face with the entirety of Thanos’s army with a broken shield and a limp, fearless.

Where is his courage now?

“I didn’t want to bother you anymore.” He explains.

“Me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting up. “Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for me, Steve. You haven’t done any of this for me. You left me for you. You came back, for you. You’re sneaking off without giving me a chance to tell you goodbye again, for you. Because you can’t deal with this.”

You place your hand on your stomach to indicate yourself, but Steve takes it as something else.

He makes a face, a grimace of dislike and pain.

Then you remember.

Oh, that’s right. You’re supposed to be pregnant with Thor’s baby. Shit. You forgot for a second.

“I…” He begins, staring at your tummy, yearning and desire burning through his storm blues.

Slowly your un your hand from the top of your belly, down to the bottom. Caressing the fake life within you.

“Did you expect me to be waiting for you?” You ask, pulling on this thread because you and he haven’t actually talked since you’ve told him you were pregnant. “That I’d be pining and counting down the seconds until you came back? Did you really expect me to forgive you after what you did to us? After you took our life together and made it nothing?”

Steve begins to shake his head then his shoulders slump. “I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t expect to find you torn up. Battle scars all over your body.”

“These are trophies for me.” You explain. “At first they were proof that I could be more than just your girl. And I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t feel good. Knowing that it could all be over in an instant…my life became my nightmare because you were everything to me, Steve.

“The world ended for everyone else, but I had you and you were my world. As long as I had you, I could have faced anything. Together. Forever…or so I thought.”

“Y/N…”

“But then they began to mean more, these scars.” You trace one along your forearm, looking at it for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Every scar I have translates into a life saved. Sometimes several. It stopped being about me and it became about them.”

“You can’t go out and do that stuff anymore.” He informs you, stern. It reminds you of him before he’d left you, the way he’d insist on you keeping safe. It hurts. “Not until-”

He gestures at your stomach, stopping after a moment to stare at it. You count one heartbeat. Two. Three. Then gasp as he closes the distance between you, his hand finding your stomach in a flurry of movement. You’d forgotten how fast he is.

With splayed fingers, he feels it, searching for a life that isn’t there.

He doesn’t know that though.

“I can’t feel anything.” He laments.

The tone of his voice breaks your heart as he stares down at his hand over your belly, his eyes watering.

Your own heart is pounding in your chest. Nervous flutters filling the pit of your tummy. Your anger disappears as agonized want takes over.

In this moment, both of you are in the same place. Both of you wanting what had once been so clearly in your futures but is now so resolutely out of your grasps.

He’d made that choice. Now he has to accept it.

“I remember thinking about what we’d name our kids.” Steve confesses pulling your attention as a sad smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I thought two would be good. One boy, one girl. And I’d move you out to the suburbs. Buy you a house with yellow paint and a porch swing.”

You shut your eyes, seeing his home. The one he shares with Peggy. It’s almost exactly the same. It’s his house for you, but another woman’s now. Fickle fate. Why does it have to hurt so much?

Why do you still want him when you’re so happy with Thor?

A shuddering breath pries your lips, escaping with a broken simpering.

Despite the way things have turned out, this tells you that Steve had really thought about your lives together. He’d planned for it. Wanted it. And then abandoned it when his opportunity to be with his true love had come.

That’s one thing you know for sure now. You aren’t Steve’s true love. One of them maybe? To a lesser degree. If he’d really wanted you. If you had really been the love of his life, he’d have chosen you in a heartbeat. It’s Peggy he can’t live without. Not you.

“Steve…” You beg, eyes searching his face until he looks up to meet your gaze.

“I’m happy for you, Y/N. Thor’s a really like guy.

“And you’re right.” He confesses, nodding. “I thought you’d be here, just as you’d always been. Sweet. Kind. Loving me because…I never stopped loving you. I know that’s wrong of me. I know that I’m a jerk for thinking that way and for telling you this when you’ve asked me not to, but you’ve always been mine. You have been on my mind, every day, since I left. I’ve woken up at least once a month, with the ghost of your lips against mine. Is this cheesy?”

You would have laughed. If things were better, if you weren’t in agony, this softer and gentler and definitely dorkier side of Steve would have brought a smile to your face.

As it is, you find his words hard to believe.

“But you were always hers.” You tell him, shrugging one shoulder as your eyes begin to sting. “I just saw it too late. I should have known better.”

“I did…do love you, Y/N. I always will.” He whispers, passionate, desperate.

“Not enough.” You whisper back, the searing in your chest almost too much to bear.

Steve slides his hand around your side to the small of your back and he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours.

“I can’t believe you’re having a baby.” He gasps, slightly happy but mostly still depressed.

You think maybe he might really mean, “I can’t believe you’re having a baby, and it isn’t mine.”

The sound of him feeling terrible almost tempts the words out of your mouth. You almost want to tell him that you aren’t. That you only told him that to make him leave. But what if he stays? What if he decides that he’ll fight for you?

You don’t want that. You want Thor.

“I love him, Steve.” You promise. “I love him so much already. I can’t imagine my life without him in it anymore.”

Steve pulls back to look into your eyes.

“And I’m terrified.” You sigh. “What if he leaves me like you did?”

“Thor?” Steve asks, genuine shock and surprise on his face. “Leave you? With his baby? Not possible.”

He caresses your cheek.

“Thor knows what he’s found with you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you because he looks like I feel.” Slowly, he pulls you flush against his body, cheek to cheek.

He slides his head down as he hugs you, burying his face into your neck. You can feel him inhaling, taking in your scent but you know that it’s not exactly the same anymore.

You smell like Thor. Not just because he’s all over you, but because of Mjolnir. Because you’ve changed.

You don’t return his hug, because you really want to. And you shouldn’t. And because it hurts. You wait until he pulls back.

You want to tell him that you’ll always love him. You want to tell him that no one can take his place. You want to tell him that you’ll never forgive him. But all you can do, is be honest.

“Can you do me a favor?” You ask him, licking your lips.

“Anything.” He gushes.

“Don’t come back again, Steve. Peggy deserves more than this too. Never tell her you came here. You’ll regret it if you hurt her and I’m sure she’d probably shoot you for it.” You don’t know why the story he’d once told you suddenly fills your mind.

Peggy had once shot at Steve for kissing another girl during the war. He’d been holding his shield at the time but, message received. He hadn’t known the shield would work.

Something tells you that if you had known Peggy, you and she might have gotten along.

Steve chuckles, smiling fondly at the memory, and nods. “She probably would.”

“Steve, promise me you won’t come back.” You beg of him, hands on his biceps now, firm.

He reaches up and places his hand along your jaw, his thumb stroking the soft curve of your cheek. He’s memorizing your face, forcing himself to never forget and it brings back the cutting memory of that last time he’d made love to you.

He’d had the same look in his eyes, the same intense gaze as he committed as much of you to memory.

Gods, you just want to really hate him…so why can’t you?

“I won’t come back.” He sighs, dropping his hands when you do.

“Good.” You nod. “Because if you come back again, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

You call Bucky back in and the two of you watch Steve step onto the Quantum pad.

“Don’t come back again, Steve.” Bucky warns with a bittersweet smile. “It’s getting harder to tell you bye.”

“I won’t be back.” He promises, then looks at you, staring for what feels like an endless minute as you slip your hand into Bucky’s metal one and cling to his arm for support.

“Bye, Steve.” You tell him. “Good luck.”

His lips are turned down at the corners, eyes glistening just like yours. He whispers, because if he says it any louder, you think he’ll probably cry. “Goodbye.”

His helmet comes up into place, and with a click of his fingers, he disappears in a shrinking blur.

You huff, fighting the sob for as long as you can before you lean your head against Bucky’s bicep and let yourself cry. One last cry for Steve.

“He’s gone.” You whimper.

“He’s gone.” Bucky agrees, sounding almost as torn up as you. “He’ll be happier for it.”

He says to himself.

“So, will you, sugar. Trust me.” He looks down at you, leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You want to get a drink?”

“No.” You sniffle. “I want Thor. Thanks for waking me.”

“Sure.” He nods. “Night.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

When you’re back in your room, you slip under the covers and lift Thor’s heavy arm to drape over your torso.

He wakes, breathing in heavily as he looks for you with sleep heavy eyes.

“You okay?” He asks immediately, half asleep.

“I love you, Thor.” You whisper, reaching up to trace the shape of his lips through his bristly mustache and beard. “I needed to tell him goodbye before I could say it with confidence.”

Suddenly, Thor looks wide awake, pushing himself up to look down at you.

“I love you, so much.” You smile at him, a little sad but mostly hopeful.

He seems to brighten. His cheeks flush underneath his beard, neck all pink, chest puffed up with pride.

“You love me? Truly?” He asks, as he rolls you over onto your back and settles his weight over you.

“Yes. I love you.”

“Say it again.” He begs, leaning down to rest his lips an inch over yours.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Once more.”

“I love you, Thor. So much. I love you. I love you. I lov-”

He crushes you into the mattress, kissing you until you have to twist away from his lips to catch your breath.

Gasping, you slide your hands into his long golden locks as he kisses a trail of electric kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, then back up to meet your lips.

He nudges your legs open and settles between them, heavy hands fumbling to pull your shorts and underwear down.

He’s already naked, preferring to sleep in the buff.

He guides your knees up, giving you little chance to breathe before he’s pushing himself inside of you.

His cock is big. So big. Even after months of being with him, you’re still not used to the girth.

He finally pulls away from your lips, mouth open as he groans, sinking into the warm silk of your cunt.

You’re so slick that he has no trouble.

“Say it again.” He begs, groaning as he trails kisses along your jaw.

“I…I…” You can’t catch your breath to speak. He’s pumping into you in long winding thrusts, hitting deep.

“Tell me.” He begs, voice almost aching with sorrow. “Tell me, my dove.”

“I-fuck…” You gasp, hands clawing at the skin on his back as he pushes himself up to angle himself up until he’s nudging you just right.

Your pussy clenches around him, a new wave of arousal making lurid noises as he pounds into you.

Finally, he stops, his tummy pressed to yours. Hard chest squishing your breasts through his t-shirt.

“Tell me.” He begs, electric blues staring right into your own eyes.

The intimacy of it…his soul searching pays off, and you’re made breathless again but this time from the endless overflow of affection that makes your body sing with bliss.

“I love you.” You reach up and push his hair back, trace his jaw line with your index finger, his beard caressed where it tickles your chin. “You’re mine. And you can never leave me, Thor. Never.”

He kisses you, gasping into your mouth, heating it up with the strong flavor of honeyed liquor. He must have had a drink while you were out saying goodbye to Steve.

The idea of him stressing over that breaks your heart.

You push his shoulder and he obeys instantly. He lays on his back and you straddle his hips. Not once does he fall out of you.

You’ve barely mounted him before you’re riding him, rocking your hips back and forth as he throws his head back with a moan then tilts it back forward to watch you rise and fall on his cock. He bites his lip, enjoying the way he disappears within you then reappears only to impale you once more.

“Oh, little dove.” He coos, biting his lip as he grips your hips and pulls you against himself to stab you deeper.

You arch your back, curling in on yourself as he helps pull you faster. One of his hands drifts up to trace your scars. Loving them because you do but also caressing them because he hates that you’d been hurt.

“Thor…” You whimper, then reach down to take his wrists.

You shove them up over his head, stopping your movements as you run your fingers along the taut sinew of muscle underneath godly smooth and golden skin. The shift of his biceps draws another moan from you, the flex of his pecs bring you down to lick and kiss until you find nipple and lick slow circles.

“I love your body.” You tell him, itching to ride him again but you’re enjoying the salty tang of his skin.

Something about this makes him growl and he sits up, removes his t-shirt off your body to expose your breasts, then wraps you up in his arms. He squeezes you. Pulling you flush against his body as he finds new grip on your ass and guides you to fuck him.

He’s grinding you down against him, your pussy constricting around him as he moves you roughly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your bottom.

You’re a mess of heavy breathing, gasping moans, mouth wide open as you struggle to find enough breath to make more than a whimper.

Thor licks your lips, a messy kiss as he shoves his tongue into your mouth to coax your tongue to meet his. He closes the distance, kissing you deep as he breathes in, exerting himself as he continues to lead you.

His hand slides down over your stomach, thumb finding your clit which he presses against hard.

You break the kiss, crying out as your body suddenly crashes into ecstasy. No warning. No slow build up.

You’re suddenly clinging to him, legs wrapped around his waist, toes clenched. Your fingers are claws, digging into the skin of his back as your orgasm takes you violently. It makes your body tremble, twitch, and spasm.

Thor keeps moving you, pressing against your clit over and over so that you’re forced into a second climax, less violent but just as intoxicating. You throw your head back and Thor’s lips find purchase against your neck, sucking and biting as he grinds you down against him harder.

He suddenly stops, sparks of electricity surging from him into you making your body shudder a third time. His hot stick warmth spills into you. Coating your insides while both of you fill the room with a blinding blue flare of electric light.

He looks up into your face, eyes wide open but both shining hot blue and white. And your own look back at him. Just as bright. Just as charged.

Your toes clench harder as he thrusts once more in his finish, when you wince and throw yourself sideways off of him.

“Ow! Fuck!” You cry, legs spread wide as you fall away.

“What?” He cries out, suddenly terrified.

Thor finds his way onto his knees, blonde hair sticking to the sides of his face with his sweat from your romp. He’s in a full-on panic as he hovers beside and over you, hands fluttering over you. Useless to do anything to help.

“What did I do? Have I hurt you?” He pleads. “Tell me, what did I do?”

“Cramp!” You groan, then whimper and hold out your foot for him to see.

Your toes are still clenched tight but involuntarily as the muscles in your left foot spasm painfully.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You whine and you see Thor deflate, shoulders slumping as he falls forward, hands on either side of your shoulders.

“Y/N…” He grumbles.

“Owwwww…” You hold your foot closer so that it’s nudging his hip.

He looks down at it then chuckles. The deep laugh makes your stomach flutter.

He sits down, resting against the headboard before pulling your foot closer. It turns your naked body to face him, legs resting over his big beefy thighs.

Slowly he begins to massage the muscles and you cry out from the unexpected pain, then laugh and cry at the same time as he chuckles again.

“You’re so dramatic.” He tells you.

He pulls your foot up to his lips. He kisses it, it tickles. You laugh.

“Did you just giggle?” He asks, chuckling again.

“No!”

“Yes, you did.”

“I did not giggle!” You laugh.

“Yes, you did. Look.” He pulls your foot up once more and kisses it again.

“Ah!” You yell. “Stop it!”

With a booming laugh, Thor reaches for your other foot and kisses that one too.

He teases you for a few minutes, pulling you closer until he gives in and lays back down beside you. Then on top of you. Then he’s kissing your lips again, your neck, then you’re writhing beneath him as he traces the shape of your thighs, down to your ass which he squeezes as he thrusts. His lips kiss your scars and the two of you come undone over and over while he begs you once more, “Say it again.”

“I love you, Thor. I love you.”

[thebutterflyestate]

movement four

Suyako lent (Name) some clothes to change into, it was one of the older woman's faded checkered patterend kimonos of the red color. After changing into it, she went back to where the rest of them were and found Sumiyoshi, Suyako, and Yoriichi sitting together by the engawa. The woman was serving tea and the peeled fruits she was working on earlier.

"(Name)-chan, some join us!" Suyako waved for her to come over and the said girl walked over shyly, sitting between her and Yoriichi, "I should introduce you to our other visitor, I bet rumors have reached your home. Tsugikuni-San, this is--"

"O-oh! We already met!" (Name) blurted out in panic. The couple looked surprised.

"You mean...earlier, just a few minutes ago?" Sumiyoshi asked, tilting his head to the side. (Name) sunk in her place, she has to explain a rather lengthy history. "

"We met a long time ago. I accompanied her back to home." Yoriichi spoke, his voice low and quiet. (Name) looked at him, eyes a bit wide, he was being humble and wasn't sayin ganything about the fact that he saved her, "The (Surname)s are good people."

'He even remembers my surname!' (Name) placed her hands on her cheeks. Sumiyoshi grinned.

"They are good people! I take it that you saved (Name)-chan?" He asked and (Name) nodded, shyly.

"He did... I was attacked by those creatures of the night and he saved my life." She said and the couple smiled. Yoriichi looked over to her then the girl realized that they fell silent and were staring at her. She blinked, her face turning red. Why were they staring?

"You're so cute, (Name)-chan!" Suyako gushed, pinching the girl's cheek. (Name) was a bit confused as to why they were like that. They conversed for a few more minutes, finishing all the fruits and tea then they resumed to doing their chores. The Kamados needed more helping hands to make charcoal so (Name) decided to stay and help since she had some time in hands. If ever dawn catches up to her, the Kamados invited her to sleep over. Or option two was thet Yoriichi would walk her back home which sounded really appealing to her when Sumiyoshi said so.

(Name) was helping Yoriichi with wood cutting. Not that the girl was cutting, all she was doing was gathering the wood together and bringing them to Sumiyoshi who would burn and turn them to charcoal. Suyako was doing the laundry. Yoriichi did most of the labor, cutting wood with an axe in a rather unbelievable speed.

"Aren't you getting...tired?" (Name) softly asked the samurai who looked at her while setting another lumber on the chopping stump. He shook his head.

"I am used to this." He said. It was literal small talk. (Name) couldn't say anything more than that. She was too shy and she had no idea how to hold a long conversation so she gave up on it and just watched him work.

After a few more hours, Sumiyoshi called it a day and they all gathered inside for dinner. (Name) helped Suyako prepare dinner and set it in the dining table. She had prepared a lot, justifying her cooking by saying that it's rare for them to get visitors up the mountain. They all ate while the couple shared stories of their experience in being up the mountain.

"How is your baby, Suyako-san?" (Name) decided to ask, the woman giggled.

"My baby is dong good, for sure! Eating all these healthy foods especially your family's fruits!" She exclaimed, "Anyway, (Name)-chan, do you plan to marry soon?"

"Eh?" She blinked. Oh, no. She knows where the conversation was going, "N-no, I don't think so... Ahaha, anyway, this meat is good, what is it?"

"It's pork!" Sumiyoshi answered without taking the hint, he turned back the conversation, "Oh, not yet? I thought your father was setting you up for an arranged marriage since of your family's orchard and farm."

She frowned, lowering her bowl and chopsticks. It was true. She was old enough to marry, if not, a little late to marry. She was twenty-one, after all. And she hadn't have any suitors because her father scares them off or because men didn't like the idea of caring for a sick wife. It was a burden and some may say it's useless. Her father was still trying to make ties with other families with good reputation so that when they get a heir, their grandson would inherit the (Surname) orchard and farm land.

Suyako noticed that she became upset. She smacked her husband's arm, he flinched and looked at her confused, she glared. Sumiyoshi laughed nervously and decided to change the subject, "Tsugikuni-san, how about you? Do you plan to marry?"

"No." He answered in a straightforward manner, making (Name) more upset. She was quite hopeful that he'd have at least the tiniest interest in women...mostly her. But she wished. Suyako glared at her husband again and decided to take the wheel.

"Thank you for helping us out today, we managed to get our stuff done twice as fast!" She said then turned to (Name), "Sweetie, I assume you'd want to go home now?"

The girl perked up, nodding, "Y-yeah! I want to sleep over but my family will be worried."

"AW, is that so?" Sumiyoshi frowned a bit then turned to Yoriichi, "Is it alright for you to take her home?"

Yoriichi nodded, chewing the food in his mouth silently. The couple smiled at him while (Name)'s face turned pink when he agreed to do so.

"Thank you for coming along," (Name) said, her eyes making contact with the ground as she and Yoriichi walked side by side. He carried a lantern while she carried her basket, inside t were her damp clothes and some charcoal from the Kamados as a thank you.

The two walked down a stony path, the same path (Name) would come up to whenever she'd go to the Kamados. Crickets chirped as the moonlight shone upon the two of them, only few rays of the moon spilled through the trees' canopy.

(Name) smiled. It was peaceful during the night, accompanied by the crickets and the flickering lights of the fireflies. She hummed quietly but realized that she could attract demons. She shut up. However, she stopped in her tracks when she saw a swarm of fireflies close to a pond. Frogs croaked and insects dances around the pond that illuminated the moonlight. It was rather convenient that there were only a few trees that covered overhead.

Yoriichi also stopped when she did, he looked over where she was looking and blinked. She turned to him and she shyly asked, twiddling her thumbs, "C-can we go there for a second?"

He nodded and she quickly parted he foilage in front of her to cross to where the pond was. Firelies floated and the frogs kept croaking their song. It was a magical view. The inner child in her was giddy, she beamed and she sat by the pond and she was surprised that Yoriichi also followed her lead.

"Uhm... I know we both don't talk much but I feel safe around you just after that one incident...is that strange?" She asked him softly, "We...we are complete strangers to another...yet I trust you so much."

He only stared at her. The moonlight lit up her face and the fireflies gave her a little glow. It was a mystical view. Her (eye color) orbs reminded him pools of water, ever flowing and gentle.

A grasshopper landed on the top of her head but she didn't seem to feel it. He blinked and she tilted her head to the side, curiously as to why he was staring. The grasshopper didn't jump off her head at her movement. He reached out and offered a finger to the insect and it hopped into his finger. He pulled away and showed her the grasshopper.

She smiled and giggled, "Oh, was that on my head...?"

(Name) obsereved his features as he watched the grasshopper on his finger. His face was quite close and she could see the details of his face once more. His jaw was chiseled, his nose was sharp, his eyes were slanted and reminded her of cherries. The strange mark on his left temple was eerie but to her, it was his additional charm. She hadn't seen him curl his lips into a smile yet.

Aside from his face, his hair was rather fluffy like clouds but it was like fire. His body was indeed a build of a samurai, foreboding and full. His hanafuda earrings, however, was odd like the wisteria charm necklace she wore.

At that moment, he, a man, of who knows what age, looked like a peacful child to (Name). She smiled gently.

He looked up and is eyes caught hers. She immedieately turned red when she was caught, she stumbled in her seat and she slipped. Yoriichi grabbed her wrist before she could fall into the pond, he dropped the lantern on to the ground.

(Name) was wide eyed but she regaied composure when he pulled her back to her spot. She bluched yet she burts laughing when the grasshopper on his finger hopped on to his face. He let go of her wrist when she took the grasshopper off his face.

She was laughing, "You are strange... You chose to drop the lantern instead of he grasshopper or me."

Yoriichi watched her lips stretch into a grin. It was the first he'd seen her smile without a care in the world. He'd only see shy smiles or little giggles from her but tonight was different.

He opened his mouth," If I did not drop the lantern..." He said as he picked up the said thing from the ground. She raised her brows, blinking, "I would not have seen you smile like that."

(Name)'s face turned as red as his hair.

[temilyrights]

Everything to Me

Summary: JACK SLOANE/ELLIE BISHOP.  Fake Dating AU – Ellie asks Jack to pretend to be her date to a friend’s wedding after finding out Jake is attending with his new fiancée. Neither of them could predict how it ended.

A/N: This has been a long time coming! This is the longest fic I've written ever and also my first which isn't with a 'reader'. Basically, I just wanted to read a Bishop/Sloane Fic so you all got one. I hope you enjoy! It, let me know if you like the pairing and I might right this paring again in the future. If it's OOC at all, I apologise! There's a couple of Quishop (Quinn/Bishop) references in here because I couldn't resist! (Sorry for any mistakes, I'm tired)

Read on A03

“Ellie!”

Ellie swore under her breath, turning around to face the approaching man, fake smile plastered on her face. “Jake, fancy seeing you here.” She laughed awkwardly, picking up the coffee she'd gone to get for her and Jack. They were stuck at NCIS going over case files, and knowing they were in for a late-night, they’d taken a break and she had volunteered to go get coffee.

“How have you been? It’s been what? 3 years? You still working at NCIS?” Jake asked patronizingly like it was a bad thing. Ellie wanted to roll her eyes…or punch him.

“Yep, still at NCIS, you still dating Taylor?” She hid her smirk behind her coffee cup but frowned when she noticed Jakes smile widening as he turned to look at the woman coming up behind him.

“No, but this is Mia, my fiancée.” Jake’s arm wrapped around the stunning brunette. Ellie clamped her teeth together. “You still single?” Jake’s condescending tone and smug expression were enough to make her want to scream.

She was not letting this bastard show her up. “No actually” Ellie smiled smugly “I’m dating someone.”

“Who?”

“Jack” Her cheeks tinged pink. “She’s amazing.”

“She?” Jake stuttered.

“Yeah” Ellie smirked “This coffee is actually for her, so I better be getting back. Nice to see you Jake, Mia.” She smiled, signalling her head towards the door.

“Right yeah, see you at Caitlin’s wedding.” Ellie froze. The wedding. Shit.

“Y-you’re going to Caitlin’s wedding?” Ellie stammered.

“Yeah. Are you bringing Jack?”

Fuck! “Oh-I…She might be working, I-”

“Aww, a shame,” Jake smirked. That was it, She’d had enough.

“Jack’s hoping to come. Demanding job the NCIS. I’m sure she’d love to meet you though. Now I must be going. Cases don’t solve themselves.” Ellie smiled, walking out of the coffee shop and making her way back to NCIS quietly fuming the whole way.

 ---------------------

 “Did you get lost?” Jack laughs as Ellie rushes into her office. She stops to hand Jack her now probably lukewarm coffee and places her own cup down on the table before flopping onto the sofa next to Jack.

“I ran into Jake.” Ellie moans. Jack winces turning to face Ellie.

“Your ex-husband…How did that go?”

“He introduced me to his new fiancée, Mia.” The disdain drips from her voice. Jack winces again and reaches out, putting a comforting hand on Ellie’s. Ellie ducked her head hiding her blush from the contact and groaned loudly. “I don’t even care but he was being all smug and condescending and I wanted to punch him and he asked if I was single and I didn’t want to say yes because he’d just look at me pitifully and say something about how there’s ‘still time’ so I might have…” Ellie trailed off, throwing her head back against the sofa.

“You said what?”

“I may have told him I was dating you.” She mumbled, staring up at the ceiling as heat spread over her face.

“Me?” Jack asked in shock, hand leaving Ellie’s.

“Your name was the first to come to my head and I know it was stupid, I’m sorry!” Ellie whined looking back at Jack who had a light blush spread over her face.

“Well, I doubt it matters right, that’s the first time you’ve seen him since the divorce? What’s the chance you’ll see him again.” Jack laughed and when Ellie didn’t respond, she frowned “Ellie?”

“You know that wedding I’m going to next weekend?” Jack nodded slowly as Ellie looked back to the ceiling, embarrassed. “Well…It turns out he’s going as well and I made an excuse but then he was smirking and I broke and told him you really wanted to be there…” Jack didn’t say anything, and when Ellie turned to look at Jack she was surprised to see her holding back a laugh. “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny!” Ellie smiled, hitting Jack playfully.

“I’m sorry” Jack snorts, causing both her and Ellie to break out into laughter. Once they’d both calmed back down Jack grinned devilishly “So you need a date?”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat at Jack’s expression, gulping slightly she nodded.

“Okay.”

“O-okay?” Ellie stuttered, stunned at how easily Jack had accepted. A date…with Jack? She blushed.

“Well, what are friends for, if not to save them from embarrassment,” Jack smirked, and Ellie felt her heart drop slightly but ignored it, not wanting to unpack that can of worms anytime soon. “Now about this profile” Jack continues, picking up the folder on her lap and gently tapping Ellie’s knee. They both quickly got back into the flow of work and Ellie was grateful to let the conversation drop at least for a few days.

 ---------------------

 Ellie had been delaying this conversation for as long as possible but with the wedding tomorrow, she knew they needed a backstory because people were going to ask questions. Ellie dragged her feet as she made her way to Jack’s office and lightly knocked on the door.

“Come in!” called the voice from inside. Ellie slowly opened the door, Jack looked up and grinned when she saw who it was, and she felt her nerves slightly ease. “You feeling prepared for the wedding?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about actually…” Ellie bites her lip awkwardly and makes her way into the room, closing the door behind her and moving to sit in the chair in front of Jack’s desk “We need to create a backstory; people will definitely ask questions.”

“Oh ok, sure. Well, you know these people so when did your last relationship end?” Ellie was grateful that Jack was looking at the folder in front of her instead of Ellie, so she didn’t notice her cheeks flush. She cleared her throat awkwardly “Nothing really in the last year.” There had only been the odd date since Qasim’s death, nothing had ever developed into a proper relationship. “What about you? They’ll be lots of people from the NSA attending and I know you’ve mentioned friends there before…”

Jack gulps “oh uh- Izzy.” Ellie feels her jaw drop open and Jack clears her throat, heat prickling her cheeks as she bites her lip. “Wasn’t my smartest decision…only lasted a couple of months.”

“Right…I just thought that she and Nick …” Ellie trails off, still in shock over the confession.

“Oh, no, no. Izzy’s a big flirt but that’s usually all it is, flirting.” Jack shrugs obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

“So, time frame?” Ellie quickly sets the subject back on track and Jack looks relieved.

“How about 6 months?”

“So, around Christmas? Romantic” Ellie teased, and Jack smirked at her.

“Apart from when you asked me-”

“Wait! It wouldn’t be me! It would’ve been you” Ellie protested, almost jumping from the chair.

“when you asked me, You were incredibly awkward, and it took me about 5 minutes to realise you were trying to ask me out on a date. I, of course, said yes.” Ellie and Jack both stared at each other as Jack spoke, smiling softly. Ellie released a shaky breath.

“I took you too that fancy little Italian place you love, even though it was way too expensive for me and wooed you.” Jacks eyes twinkled. The lighting there was sweet and romantic and the food glorious. And at the end of dinner, Jack would have kissed-No! Ellie shook her head to get rid of the intruding thoughts. It wasn’t real.

 ---------------------

 Ellie rang the doorbell, fiddling with her dress as she waited for Jack to answer. Ellie felt on show but wanted to look her absolute best to show up her bastard of an ex. Although she had no interest in him whatsoever and was honestly glad their marriage was over, she couldn’t help the small part of her that wanted to show him exactly what he’d lost.

When the door opened Ellie felt her brain short circuit at the sight in front of her. Jack was wearing a red dress, with a surprisingly high slit which Ellie’s eyes automatically zeros in on.

“You look hot as hell.” Ellie gulped at the same time Jack released a breathless “wow” causing them both to break out into light blushes and awkward laughter.

Ellie’s eyes focus back on Jack’s leg and Jack releases an uncomfortable cough, startling her out of her trance. “You ready to go?”

“Right…yes. Yes. Let’s go.” Ellie fumbles, spinning around and walking to her car, ignoring Jack’s laugh as she locks up her house.

 ---------------------

 “You ready for this?” Jack asks as Ellie turns off the car engine, staring at the church across the street.

Ellie takes a deep breath before blowing it out “Ready as I’ll ever be” She opens the car door and gets out, Jack following behind her. As they’re about to walk in Ellie hesitantly holds out her hand, Jack takes it squeezing reassuringly before smiling at Ellie and making their way in. Ellie ignores the flutter in her chest.

Unsurprisingly Jake is one of the first people they run into, Mia hanging from his arm. Ellie tenses, teeth grinding in anger.

“Calm down” Jack breathes into her ear “Anyway, the woman’s got nothing on you.” Ellie stares at Jack in surprise and Jack smiles sweetly. The flutter in her chest now a full-blown storm.

“Ellie, hello.” Ellie’s got no idea how even 2 words could make her want to smash his face in. Jack squeezes her hand tighter.

“Jake. Mia. Nice to see you both. This is my girlfriend Jack.”

“I’ve heard many things.” Jack smirks, a devilish glint in her eye. Jake looks intimidated and the smile on his face vanishes and Ellie wants to burst out laughing.

“I just love your dresses,” Mia smiles from beside Jake “How long have you been together?”

“Thank you. 6 beautiful months” Jack beamed, pulling Ellie into her side and kissing her cheek. Ellie tenses slightly in surprise, a blush again gracing her features.

“Oh wow! We’ve been together about the same amount of time! We met at a party and hit it off straight away” Mia hungrily kisses Jake.

“oh god” Ellie mouths to Jack uncomfortably and Jack smothers a laugh into Ellie’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jake says unapologetically “The love between me and Mia is just hard to contain sometimes.”

“Right…Well, we really should be sitting down, so we’ll see you later.” Ellie pulls Jack away and they head over to the aisles to take a seat “Can you believe him? ‘The love between me and Mia is just hard to contain sometimes’ What does that even mean?” They both break out laughing. The people in front of them turn around and frown, they both duck their heads laughing even louder.

 ---------------------

 The ceremony was beautiful but now all Ellie wanted to do was fill herself with alcohol, regretting the fact she’d decided to drive here.

They got into Ellie’s car, narrowly avoiding Jake again.

“Why is he so damn insistent on talking to me?” Ellie whined as she hit the steering wheel.

“He’s trying to convince himself that he’s doing better than you, which is obviously not the case for the fact he’s trying to convince himself” Jack laughed, placing her hand on Ellie’s. “He knows he made a mistake and whereas you moved on, he’s stayed in the same place…I feel sorry for Mia.”

“Yeah, maybe I should tell her to run.” Jack removes her hand as Ellie starts up the car and pulls out of the church’s parking lot.

“I doubt she’d listen; she hangs off his every word.” Jack sighs.

Ellie smirks slightly.

“I wanted to thank you again for doing this, you’ve given up your whole Saturday for me.” Ellie looks over to Jack to see her already looking at her. Ellie gulps, focusing back on the road. “It’s not a problem, and anyway I get the chance to see what it would be like to date the legendary Ellie Bishop.” Jack laughs and Ellie nearly crashes her car.

 ---------------------

 “Let’s go get drinks,” Ellie says the second they enter the reception hall. Car be damned. She knew there was no way she was making it through this whole event without the help of alcohol.

It’s a large hall, decorated with lots of white tulle, blue accents, and pretty lights. Tables and chairs fill the room, a dance floor behind them and a bar sits to the side of the room, already full of guests ordering their drinks. Music fills the room, but Ellie ignores all of that as she makes her way over to the bar.

“What do you drink?” Ellie asks, linking arms with Jack.

“Anything.” Jack shrugs.

Ellie orders 2 Gin and Tonics, drinking half of hers before Jack can even take a sip. Jack doesn’t say anything, just raises her eyebrows.

Finding their seats isn’t hard. They’re the first ones to the table, and a quick glance at the place cards shows it’s just people she used to work with at the NSA. Ellie’s just grateful Caitlin had the common sense not to sit her at the same table as Jake.

“Ellie? Eleanor Bishop? Is that you?” Ellie’s head snaps around, her face brightening into a wide smile when she spots who it is.

“Lauren! Oh my god! Hi, Hello, how have you been? Where’s Evelyn?” She pulls the older woman into a tight hug.

“I’m good, you? Evelyn’s getting here later, she got called into work.”

“I’m good, it’d be great to catch up with her too. I haven’t seen either of you since Emma’s birthday!” Lauren had been somewhat of a mentor for Ellie at the NSA and the two had grown close, she’d been to her and Evelyn’s wedding, was even godmother to their daughter Emma, however, she hadn’t seen them in ages.

Ellie turns grabbing Jack’s hand and pulling her over tightly to her side “Jack this is Lauren, we worked together at the NSA. Lauren, this is my girlfriend Jack, she works with me at NCIS.”

Lauren’s eyes sparkle in interest, but she doesn’t say anything, instead shaking Jack’s hand “Nice to meet you.” Jack says sliding her arm around Ellie’s waist.

“And you. No wonder Ellie won’t come back to the NSA however many times we try to poach her, I wouldn’t either if I was working with agents who look like you!”

Jack laughs awkwardly while Ellie blushes beat-red. “Lauren!” Lauren just laughs.

“I think it’s me who’s the lucky one.” Jack’s hand is brushing lightly at Ellie’s side and when Ellie’s eyes flick to her Jack winks. The blonde doesn’t know how to respond but her body definitely does, and Ellie finally admits to herself that maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Because ok…maybe she had a tiny crush on Jack. But it was tiny, just co-worker infatuation. Yes, she sometimes thought about kissing Jack and taking her on dates and ok maybe there had been a dream where Jack had pinned her up against a wall and-NO. It just wasn’t helping being this close to Jack for this long, it was just making her body feel things that it shouldn’t be feeling for her friend. Ellie’s face heats up as she’s drawn away from her thoughts and back into the conversation. Lauren is telling Jack about her children, but she can tell Jack’s only half-listening, choosing instead to shoot concerned looks at Ellie. Ellie ignores her, grabbing her drink and swigging the rest of the liquid.

The hall soon fills up and they sit at their now full table. Over the course of the meals, Ellie isn’t surprised about the number of questions fired at her from the table of old friends, the last time she’d seen most of them she’d been married to Jake. They hold up the story well though.

“You look really good together, it’s lovely to see you so in love again Ellie.” Lauren smiles. Ellie feels like hiding under the table, instead, Jack grabs her hand that’s placed on the table, and then shocks Ellie by again leaning over to kiss Ellie lightly on the cheek.

“Are you ok?” Jack whispers into her ear and Ellie nods, now even more overwhelmed by the smell of Jack’s perfume, and her breath tickling her neck.

“I’m good” She looks away from Jack who’s watching her closely. Ellie instead takes a gulp from her drink, pushing her plate away suddenly no longer hungry.

Their hands remained clasped together, falling onto Ellie’s lap, for the remainder of the meal. Ellie doesn’t even really notice, already used to it and the comfort it brings.

 ---------------------

 They are standing by the bar, drinking another round of drinks when Lauren comes over to them “I haven’t seen you girls dance all night.”

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Oh, that’s the biggest lie ever Bishop! Or do you not remember my wedding?” Ellie blushes at the memory and Jack looks intrigued.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Ellie mutters, trying to sink further into her chair.

“Probably because you ended up passed out in a booth.” Evelyn says, coming over to hand her wife a drink and placing a kiss on her cheek. Jack’s head shoots away from Ellie and towards the new woman. “Eve?” Jack questions in wonder.

“Jackie?”

“Jackie?” Ellie mouths, scrunching up her face. Lauren notices and laughs quietly.

“What are you doing here? How? I haven’t seen you since I left California!”

“I work at NCIS now, I’ve been here a few years! I thought you’d moved to Chicago?”

“Hello” Ellie pipes in (totally not slightly jealous at all) “How do you guys know each other?”

“Right yes…. Eve and I dated when I lived in California” Jack barely glances at her before her focus is back on Evelyn again.

“Wait she’s that Jack?” Lauren looks shocked and sends a calculated gaze at Jack.

“It must have been 8 years ago? I got a promotion and moved to Chicago, and long-distance just didn’t work, we lost contact. I moved to Washington about a year and a half later and then I met Lauren.” Evelyn looked between Ellie and Jack “You’re dating Ellie?”

“Yeah, we’ve been together for about 6 months” Jack squeezed Ellie’s hand tightly.

Lauren looks over to her wife “I told you.” She singsongs while Evelyn rolls her eyes.

“Told her what?” Ellie questions suspiciously.

“That you totally had a thing for that Alex girl you used to work with, you used to gush about her whenever we met up ‘Oh Alex is just so amazing’. Evelyn thought you were straight, but I knew it!” Ellie’s face goes bright red as Evelyn and Lauren laugh.

“Alex?” Jack questions sharply “As in Alex Quinn?” Ellie feels her face heat up further as Jack directs her interested gaze towards her.

“Hmm…didn’t you say something about a dance?” Ellie drags Jack up and onto the dance floor before she can even question it, ignoring Evelyn and Lauren as their laughter gets louder.

“I thought you didn’t dance” Jack smirks, pulling Ellie into her arms. Ellie wraps her arms around Jack’s neck, sighing.

“I don’t but I wasn’t going to sit there and have them laugh at me.”

“Well, you chose a good song,” Jack smiles softly. Ellie’s heart flutters “Perfect for our story.” Ellie gulps, trying to hiding the disappointment from her face.

She hated how swept up in the charade she was getting. This whole day had felt so natural with Jack and hated to think in a few hours they would be back to ‘normal’. No more hand-holding, kisses and dancing.

“Alex? I didn’t know…” Ellie tenses up. “Sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”

“No, it’s fine. It ended before it even really began. She left” Ellie shrugs. They had kissed but then Paraguay happened, and Alex had to go home to look after her mother and that was that.

“And no one knew?” The twinkle in Jack’s eye unnerves her.

“Not that I’m aware” She shrugs again but wanting this line of questioning to end she changes the subject “So…Jackie” Ellie grins wickedly.

Jack groans and Ellie laughs “An unfortunate nickname I left in California for good reason.”

“I prefer Jack anyway” Ellie smiles, playing with a strand of hair that falls into Jack’s face before hesitantly asking “and Evelyn?”

“We were together for nearly 2 years. It would never have lasted though. I still wasn’t doing well because of Afghanistan” Ellie rested her head on Jack’s shoulder, Jack hugging her closer. They weren’t even dancing now.

“Thank you” Ellie pulls back slightly so she can look at Jack’s face again. Their faces are so close now, she can barely breathe. Jack’s watching her closely and Ellie’s eyes scan her face, before focusing on her lips. All she had to do was dip her head slightly and-

“Ellie!” Ellie jumps, quickly backing away from Jack.

“Caitlin? Hi!” Ellie’s still trying to calm her pounding heart when she’s pulled into a hug by the woman. “This wedding has been beautiful, thank you so much for inviting me”

“We need to meet up soon. You’ve only met Philip a handful of times, and I’m yet to even meet your girlfriend.” Caitlin looks at Jack curiously, Jack extends her hand.

“Jack. Congratulations”

“Nice to meet you Jack” Caitlin grinned. “Anyway, I’ve still got a lot of guests to talk to, so I’ll see you later”

Ellie pulled Caitlin into another tight hug, saying goodbye before turning back to Jack.

“Jack-”

“I’m going to go get another round” Jack’s walking over to the bar before Ellie can say anything. She sighs and heads outside.

 Ellie’s barely sat down before Jake’s coming over. All she wanted was a moment of peace. A moment to escape from everything. Being so close to Jack the whole day was playing with her head. If Caitlin hadn’t interrupted them would she have kissed her? God she was so close to ruining everything, Jack must know considering how quickly she’d run from Ellie.

“Jack gone home already?” Jake’s attempts of being smug were getting more laughable every time they spoke.

“No Jake. She’s getting drinks.” and possibly avoiding me “What do you want?”

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe your relationship, right?” Ellie rolls her eyes, quietly seething. She watched the view of the surrounding garden from her seat instead of giving Jake the satisfaction of her full attention.

“And why’s that? Because she’s a woman?”

“Partly, but also because you know she’s way out of your league, right?” Ouch. “You’ll never do better than me and you were stupid to let me go. I’m- WHAT THE FUCK!” Jake screamed. Ellie looked up, breaking into hysterics. Jake was standing there, glaring at a very pissed off Jack who was holding two empty glasses in her hand.

“Oops sorry” Ellie continued laughing at Jack’s sarcastic tone. Jake stood there, wiping the sticky liquid from his face, huffing as he glared daggers at both of them, before turning around, literally stomping his food and walking away. Ellie’s laughter died down as she stared at Jack in wonder.

“Why? You didn’t have too…” Ellie trailed off unsure what to even say.

“He can’t speak to you like that! You deserve anyone you want Bishop. You have such a gigantic heart and the person who you decide to give it to…well…” Jack cleared her throat “The bastards lucky I only threw the drinks at him” Jack ranted angrily, Ellie moved towards her, placing her hand on Jacks arm to calm her. It did almost instantly.

“You think I deserve anyone?” Could that mean? Ellie watched Jack closely, hand still resting on her arm, but the woman was near impossible to read when she didn’t want to be.

“Of course. I know about your feelings…” Oh my, here it comes! “…for Torres.”

Ellie let her hand drop; her mouth hangs agape “Torres? I don’t- I’ve never-”

“Hey, it’s alright” Jack moves forward, grabbing hold of Ellie’s hand as a warm, supportive smile graces her features. Her eyes were unreadable. “I’ve known since Izzy; it’s why you didn’t like her right? She and Nick flirted constantly.” Ellie just stood there. Pain erupting in her chest cause holy shit how had she been so wrong. She’d really thought for a second that Jack liked her back. “So, I’m right, right?”

“Yep” Ellie croaked, ducking her head, what else could she say? ‘No, actually I think I’ve got big scary feelings for you and now I’m positive I’ve got no chance with you I’m going to tell you anyway’ hell no. She’d just crush it all down again go back to before when it was a ‘tiny crush’ she put in a box and mostly ignored. She could easily do that again. Whoever said bottling emotions up was unhealthy was obviously wrong.

 ---------------------

 “Thank you again for today” Ellie says quietly. They’re both standing outside, the wedding over, waiting for separate Ubers as they live in different directions. Ellie kind of wishes she hadn’t drunk just so they could continue their facade a bit longer.

“I had a good time actually. Good music, food, and company what more could a girl ask for.” The joke falls flat, Jack grimaced. Ellie rubs her arms suddenly feeling cold. The air felt different, uncomfortable and she doesn’t like it. Her phone pings.

“My Ubers here” Jack pulls her into a hug and as Ellie pulls away to plant a kiss on Jack’s cheek, she accidentally ends up hitting the corner of Jack’s mouth. Ellie lingers as Jack stills. They lock eyes, Ellie is holding her breath as Jack pulls back slightly her eyes sweeping over Ellie’s lips. Jack leans back in and Ellie follows, her lips covering Jack’s. Jack releases a breathy sigh as Ellie deepens the kiss. Jack tastes like alcohol and sugar and Ellie’s already addicted. Jack’s phone pings this time causing them to both pull away.

“That’s my Uber. I should be going.” Jack says not looking at Ellie

“Wait, Jack-”

“I can’t do this Ellie” Jack has tears in her eyes. she turns around and leaves before Ellie can say anything else.

Ellie takes a deep breath confused as tears come to her eyes. Jack doesn’t look back and Ellie wipes at her eyes as she turns around and makes her way over to the car waiting for her. The second she gets into the car the tears start to fall as the sharp pain in her chest becomes overwhelming and all over again Ellie’s losing something she never even had.

She wakes up the next morning to a text.

“I’m sorry about last night. I had had too much to drink, it didn’t mean anything. I hope we can forget about it and move on.”

Ellie sits there staring at the text for she doesn’t know how long before throwing her phone on the floor and hiding under the covers. ‘It didn’t mean anything’ running through her head over and over again.

 ---------------------

 It’s Monday and Ellie’s sitting at her desk eating a breakfast muffin when she notices Tim and Nick are both watching her, smirking suspiciously. “What?” Ellie barks at them and that only causes then to smirk harder.

“And a good morning to you too Bishop, nice weekend?” Tim looks like he’s about to start laughing and Ellie glares at him. “Just didn’t you had that wedding this weekend?” He continues “because funnily enough, we overheard a certain blonde talking to Director Vance this morning about how she spent her Saturday at a wedding.” Ellie bites her lip still glaring but they ignore it.

“Imagine that! Both of you happen to be at a wedding on the same day.” Nick now has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face “And didn’t Ellie mention something about having a date to this wedding?”

“Oh yes! That’s right, she did Nick.” Ellie crosses her arms across her chest and they just stare back at her obviously waiting for her to explain.

Ellie sighs, knowing they were never going to let it drop “Fine” the guys high five, causing Ellie to roll her eyes as they make their way over to stand in front of her desk “Yes, Jack was my date BUT” Their gleeful expressions drop “It was a fake date, she was helping me because Jake was there.” Ellie shrugs, getting up from her desk and feigning interest in a filing cabinet, ignoring the ache in her chest.

“A fake date?” Tim’s voice is full of scepticism and Ellie begins to heat up and her thoughts go back to Saturday night. She slams the draw. “Damn it! After the whole Quinn situation-”

“THE WHOLE WHAT” Ellie’s voice rises about 3 octaves as she turns around to stare at Tim and Nick in complete shock, her cheeks now on fire. She was so sure no one knew anything.

“You really thought no one knew?” Nick laughs “God, you and her flirted constantly.”

“However, it’s not nearly as much as the number of wistful looks you and Sloane send to each other.” Tim smirks

“It’s actually quite disturbing.” Nick’s face mushes up in disgust and Tim laughs.

“I don’t send wistful looks at her!” Ellie protested shout-whispering, as she looked around the room making sure no one was listening. They both begin laughing again and Ellie huffs, quickly exiting the room.

 She heads to the break room, desperate for a snack to help calm her. She slams the code and money in for her favourite chocolate bar and kicks the machine in frustration when it doesn’t move.

“Whoa! Are you ok?” Ellie whips around, finding Jack standing in the centre of the room and all Ellie feels is pain when Jack's eyes don’t quite meet hers.

“Yep, I’m good…so good” Sarcasm drips from her voice as Ellie turns back around to the machine, she shakes it slightly and the chocolate bar falls loose. She sighs in satisfaction, grabbing the chocolate, ripping the wrapper and taking a large bite.

“You’re eating your stress chocolate,” Jack says it so quietly Ellie nearly misses it.

“Yeah, just a bad morning I guess” Ellie shrugs, Jack finally looks at her and Ellie can see the pain in her eyes. Ellie looks away.

“I’m sorry” Jack says barely above a whisper

“It’s cool. It didn’t mean anything right?” The challenge in Ellie’s voice would be hard to miss as Ellie raises her eyebrow at her.

Jack ducks her head “Are we good?”

“Sure” Ellie sighs, she throws the rest of her chocolate bar into the bin not looking at Jack as she heads back to the bullpen.

It didn’t mean anything. Neither of them could even look at each other and all Ellie could think about every time she saw Jack was that the taste of her and how good the whole evening felt being in Jack’s arms. Her heart ached. No, they weren’t good. They were broken and Ellie had no idea how to fix that.

---------------------

 “So, has either of you actually admitted your feelings for each other yet?” Is the first thing Lauren says when Ellie answers the phone a few days later.

“Hello Ellie, how are you? Oh, Hi Lauren, I’m good, thank you for asking.”

“Yes, yes, whatever. Have you told her?”

“We’re already dating.” They never discussed when their ‘relationship’ would end but Ellie’s going to keep the facade going a few weeks just so it doesn’t seem like it was made up.

“Lies.”

“What? No, it’s-”

“Lies.” Lauren singsongs

“Lauren-”

“All liesssss.”

Ellie rolls her eyes in annoyance, giving in easily. She needed to talk to someone about this. “Fine. We aren’t dating but we’re really just friends.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. Jack is my friend.”

“Hmm…ok. How have you both been since the wedding?”

“We’ve been fine.”

“Eleanor.”

“Ok! Wait a minute.” She was sitting in the bullpen and even though Torres and Gibbs were hunting down a lead and McGee was doing a coffee run she was not having this conversation where other agents could overhear. She headed to the lady’s bathroom, checking the stalls to see they were empty. Ellie sighed in relief “You still there?”

“Yes.”

Ellie gulped “We uh kissed and we haven’t really spoken since.” It had been nearly a week since the wedding, and Ellie was avoiding Jack at all costs.

“Well, that’s further than I expected to be honest.” Ellie rolled her eyes “And why haven’t you spoken since?”

“She ran and then texted me telling me she’d had too much to drink and it didn’t mean anything” Ellie muttered.

“And you believed her?” Lauren laughed.

“Yes. No? I don’t know.”

Lauren hums “I’m sending you a photo. Look at it”

Ellie frowns but opens the image, setting her phone to speakerphone so she can still hear Lauren. “Oh” She breathes her voice thick with emotion. She finally understands what Tim meant about ‘wistful looks’. It’s a photo of the two of them when they’d been on the dance floor. Ellie’s head tucked into Jack’s shoulder as Jack holds her tight. Jack’s looking at her like she’s everything, a pained smile on her face. Ellie can’t breathe. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Just go get your girl,” Lauren says, and Ellie can practically hear her smirk. Lauren hangs up while Ellie’s still staring at the photo.

 Go get your girl

 Go get your girl

 It rings through her head as Ellie groans loudly. This was probably a terrible idea she sighs. Ellie turns looking into the mirror, fixing her hair before nodding “You’ve got this Bishop”. She exits the bathroom and heads to Jacks office.

The door is open, so Ellie doesn’t bother to knock, instead walking straight in. Jack’s sitting on her couch, looking over paperwork but the second Ellie enters the room her head snaps up. Ellie’s caught off guard, she hadn’t seen Jack yet today but she’s wearing a pink and white suit and it takes away her breath momentarily.

“Ellie?” Jacks voice is full of concern and surprise, she removes her glasses and places them on the folders in front of her. Ellie realises she must look crazy as she paces in front of Jack.

“It was never Torres” Ellie confesses but Jack only looks confused. Ellie stills, taking a deep breath and facing Jack “That I had feelings for…It was never Torres, it was you” Jack gulps but Ellie continues before she can say anything “That’s why I didn’t like Izzy. It’s why I said your name, I wanted, want, it to be you but I was so sure that you’d never feel the same way” Ellie laughs “and then we kissed and it meant everything to me” tears came to her eyes and Ellie could see them forming in Jacks as well. “I can’t just forget about this or move on because I want this, us, so badly” Ellie takes a step forward. Jack just staring at her as tears fall down her face “I have these big messy feelings for you Jack and please, please, tell me you have them for me too.” Ellie finally lets her own tears fall as she releases a shaky breath.

Jack stares at Ellie in shock as she releases an almost inaudible “yes”

“Yes?”

Jack finally stands up then, moving over to stand in front of Ellie. She lightly grasps Ellie’s hand, staring at her in wonderment “Yes. I have big messy feelings for you too” Jack says more confidently this time. Ellie releases a choked laugh as she drops her shoulders in relief. Jack’s fingers lightly brush away a few tears from Ellie’s face, her hand settling on Ellie’s cheek. Jack’s eyes focus on Ellie’s lips “Can I?”

“Please” Ellie moans and then Jack’s leaning over to capture her lips in a kiss. It starts softly this time but quickly becomes hot and heavy and Jack’s hands move to Ellie’s hair as Ellie pulls Jack closer by her blazer before snaking her hands around her waist. Jack tastes just as sweet and addictive as the first time. When Ellie feels her knees begin to buckle, she decides to finally pull away, they stand still in each other’s arms as they try to catch their breaths.

“I’m sorry for running. I thought I really thought you liked Torres” Ellie’s face scrunches up, “I thought I had ruined everything.”

Ellie shakes her head “It’s okay” before placing a soft kiss against Jacks lips “Let me take you on a date?” Ellie questions

“I told you you’d be the one to ask me out” Jack quips and that all it takes for the two to fall into laughter.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

              SOMEWHERE BETWEEN SORROW AND BLISS

                                       chapter 1: hands, fingers, lips

                                         chapter 2: fists, nails, teeth

                                                            AO3

#canon divergence #childhood friends to lovers #robb wins the war of five kings #now or never #forbidden romance #arranged marriage #smut with plot #angst

//Angry tears stream down his face as he speaks. He drops his head and nuzzles against the hollow of her throat to hide them, but she can still feel them; hot and wet on her skin.

‘’But I always knew you could never be my family, Arya.’’//

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‘’I’m not marrying him!’’  she screamed on top of her lungs, angry blush stinging her cheeks. ‘’You cannot force me!’’

‘’Arya, please.’’ Robb sounded tired. He always sounded tired lately, weary like an old man and hunched over papers in his solar for whole days. ‘’Please, stop it. We’ve been through it a million times already.’’

She just shook her head.

‘’No.’’ a single tear dropped from her eyes and she wiped away furiously. She was not a child anymore; she was a woman now. Flowered.

About to be sold away, sent away like a fucking cargo.

‘How could you do it to me? I don’t want to-‘’

‘’Look, do you think I wanted any of this?’’ Robb’s voice pierced the air like an arrow as his patience ran out and he rose from his seat to his full height, immediately towering above her. ‘’The crown, the war? Ro – Roslyn?’’

She gaped at him silently at that, her jaw dropping from surprise. He had never mentioned his wife in these conversations before, carefully avoided ever bringing her up.  Before she could say anything, he locked his eyes with hers, blue on grey, and continued:

‘’I just wanted to save you and Sansa, to avenge our Father. They named me King in the North when  I was not much more than just a kid, full of silly ideas about the world. And I fell in love, Arya, with a woman who was not my betrothed. Who would be the downfall of me and the whole Northern army on top of that. I didn’t care for it. In my madness, I dreamed of nothing else but marrying her.’’

Robb’s hands curled into fists. With the light of the candles illuminating his face, she could see first wrinkles forming in the corners of his mouth, on his forehead. He has always been more Tully in looks than Stark, but even with his red curls, something about his expression reminded her of Father in King’s Landing, perpetually worried about everything.

Robb had been in love. Robb had been in love and no one had told her about it. Nobody even mentioned it.

‘’What was her name?’’ she asked softly.

Her brother lowered his head with a deep sigh.

‘’It does not matter now. I buried this love. Roslyn is a good woman and she gave me a beautiful daughter. I did my duty and I’m proud of it.’’

Somehow, she knew what he was about to say before he uttered the words. And still, they dropped heavily, like stones on her back.

‘’The question is- do you know your duty, Arya?’’

She closed her eyes; tears spilled freely now, hot against her cheeks.

‘’It’s not fair.’’ She choked out, breathlessly. ‘’It’s not fair that you had to do it and it’s not fair that I have to, too.’’

‘’Nothing in this world is fair, sweet sister. But we must do what’s right regardless.’’ Robb’s arms locked around her, forcing her to bury her wet face in his silk doublet. He started to stroke her hair slowly, the way she sometimes saw him doing with baby Elain. ‘’It’s about time you came to terms with that.’’

*

Arya drags him to the Godswood before the break of the dawn, when everyone in the castle is still deeply asleep. Their steps are soundless on the fresh snow and the air tastes sweet on his tongue, freezing his lung with each inhale.

Nymeria lays curled by the Weirwood tree.  He’s somehow not surprised to see her there.  After all, he is not the only one Arya will have to leave behind. The great direwolf raises her head when they approach her, nuzzling against her mistress's hand when Arya scratches her scalp.

It will be strange, seeing Nymeria without Arya. Almost as if seeing a soul without a body.

She drops down to her knees in front of him and for a moment, he forgets his own name.

‘’Arya-‘’

‘’Don’t you want to?’’ she just asks him, plain and simple, and before he knows, he’s kneeling too, his fingers laced with hers.

‘’I don’t know what to say.’’ He admits, just like she did the night before, and the corners of her lips raise slightly.

‘’It’s fine. I’ll show you.’’ She echoes his words back to him. Moisture gathers in the corners of her eyes and Gendry thinks that she has never looked sadder than now, crying on the snow before the Old Gods of her ancestors.

When he reaches towards her face to wipe her tears, she pulls back slightly.

‘’No.’’ Arya shakes her head. ‘’You don’t need to comfort me.’’

She clears her throat and says with practiced ease, as if she was repeating the words over and over in her head for thousands of times:

‘’ Arya of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?’’

Their eyes meet. For a moment, silence falls.

‘’If we do this – would it mean –‘’

‘’Nothing.’’ Her answer comes quickly and brutally, mercilessly tearing through whatever small hope was beginning to bloom in his heart. ‘’I will marry Elmar under the Light of the Seven and there’s no one here to witness us anyway. But I still want to do this. This is how it’s supposed to be.’’

‘’In the Godswood?’’ he asks, but she shakes her head.

‘’Me and you.’’

Falling snowflakes settle on her dark curls, making her look strangely ethereal. It’s still quite dark, with only a faint pink halo of the upcoming sunrise coloring the sky, but Arya’s close enough that he can see every eyelash, every freckle, even the faint love bite blooming underneath her jaw.

Her small hands feel very warm in his.

‘’Gendry of no house, heir to no castle. I come to claim her. ’’

Arya’s beams at him softly, tears freezing on her cheek

‘’Now you’re supposed to ask who gives me to you.’’

‘’It doesn’t seem very fair.’’ He notices and she chuckles. ‘’But fine. Who gives her?’’

Her fingers squeeze his tightly when she answers, voice choked up with emotion:

‘’She gives herself. I take this man.’’

And now he’s sure he has started crying also, but how does it matter anyway?

‘’I take this woman.’’

‘’I don’t think you confirming that is a part of standard vows.’’

‘’Fucking complicated.’’ He grumbles, blinking the tears away. His knees start to numb from the cold, hard ground, so he shifts a little closer to her, resting his forehead against hers when he whispers. ‘’What now?’’

‘’Now we beg the gods for blessings silently and that’s it. But I guess we don’t need to do that.’’ A tremble runs through her body when she tears her hands away from his and wraps them around his waist instead, burying her face in his chest.

‘’I was blessed already.’’ He says quietly, lips moving against the top of her head. ‘’To meet you. To love you. You saved my life, Arry.’’

All in him screams to beg her to run away with him; to just go to White Harbor and catch a ship to Free Cities, to forget about fucking betrothals and deals and titles. He would, if he thought he could convince her. He would beg in a heartbeat, no hesitation; gracelessly, shamelessly, pathetically. But Arya’s not stupid. If she wanted to do that, she would have already asked him.

Whether it’s the family or duty or honor, something does not let her leave and he cannot hate her for that, no matter how much he wants to.

Quietly, he grabs the hem of his cloak and wraps it around Arya’s back to shield her from the frosty wind.

‘’I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.’’

‘’I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days.’’

They recite the vows in unison, solemnly. Gendry does not think he said a single truer thing in his entire life.

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