#You guys know that one image of the cat getting rolled into bread?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Game night results (from this poll)

Character selection inspired from extraterezi's post!

[forsworned]

[♥] academyau!substitute teacher {renguko kyojuro x reader}

Genre: Slight Fluff, Comedy

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Kyoujuro Renguko/Reader, Giyuu Tomioka/Reader

word count: 2,538

a/n: this is a pretty long read, so read at your own risk of boredom. i guess it could also b classified as a "x giyuu" but the title is just way too long and kind of throws the main focus off. might turn this into multiple parts so let me know what y'all think! also this is just a filler for the requests i have rn i don't want to leave you guys hanging

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

"I literally don't know shit about history."

Giyu sighed in exasperation. "You don't need to know anything about history [first name]. The teacher already has a lesson plan and you literally just need to pass out the papers. I just need you to cover for a couple of a days because one of the teachers are out sick."

You groaned as you threw your head back in annoyance, pushing your feet up against the edge of your desk. Even though it didn't look it Giyu was practically begging you to substitute for one of his coworkers. And he almost never asks for favors.

Giyu ran a hand through his hair. "He's super picky with his subs and everyone he's had come in hasn't come back."

"So you're saying that I'm a good pick." You mused, with your head in your hands with an annoying smug look.

"Don't push it."

You scrunched your face in disgust. "I just really, really don't want to Giyu. Middle school kids are the absolute worst. All they do is make moaning noises and forget or neglect to wear deodarant."

Giyu lightly chuckled. Your eyes darted to watch his usually solemn demeanor melted away into a small smile which immediately disappeared when you caught wind of it.

He cleared his throat and continued to speak like nothing happened.

"Anyway, so you'll do it?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

Giyu looked pleased with himself when he heard your answer.

"I mean after all, I do owe you like a million and one favors." You sarcastically mused.

Which you kind of did. Giyu was your childhood best friend and always kept your out trouble in the nick of time. Whether it was you getting chased down by the neighborhood cat, or when you got gum stuck in your hair and you didn't want your parents to find out so he quickly snipped it out of your hair with everything seemingly in place like nothing happened. Yeah you could say you were a bit of troublemaker growing up, but Giyu was like the older brother that always looked after you.

"I'm so glad you realized." He replied cooly. "Be here by 7:30AM. Don't be late, I already have enough on my plate and I don't need you embarassing me."

You used your hand to shoo him out of your office space. "Mhm, you can leave now."

"I'm serious."

"Yup."

He squinted his eyes at you."[first name]"

"Ok! I got it. I'll be there 7:30 sharp." You exclaimed throwing your arms up in surrender.

He smirked in satisfaction. "Good."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning air was crisp as the sun shone down on your blurred eyes. You absolutely dreaded waking up in the morning and despite that you still agreed to be here. Oh, how you hated that man.

"Good morning." A familiar voice muffled beside you.

Speak of the devil.

He was munching away at his raisin bread walking next to you in the most nonchalant manner. Typical Giyu.

"Shut up." You mumbled miserably.

"You know, you could be a little nicer."

Your eyes narrowed at him. Expression in full death stare mode, but Giyu was as cool as ever, and as always completely unfazed by your behavior. But before you could retaliate, middle and highschool girls were practically lining up to say good morning to Giyu, blushing like mad when he acknowledged them. You on the other hand, were getting the death stares and whispers instead.

"Must be nice to be the heart throb PE teacher." You teased, poking him with your binder.

Giyu ignored you as you walked into the building, showing you to your classroom. You ignored the stares of kids burning holes through your back as you analyzed everything. Tons of inspirational historical quotes lined the walls, pictures and signatures of past and possibly current students covered one single wall. You inspected closely trying to catch a glimpse of who the teacher you were substituting for. One person in particular caught your eye, and he was hot. With a capital H. But before you could look at the other pictures to confirm Giyu called you over.

"Miss [last name], can you come up to the front and introduce yourself."

You sighed as you approached the front of the classroom and watched as the students all stood up. As their whispers got louder, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Good morning class. I'm going to be your substitute teacher for the day as Mr.--"You glanced over at the desk and moved the plaque in your direction. "--Renguko is out sick today."

As the class bowed in respect getting their good morning greetings, some of the children could't help but show their disappointment. You noticed most of them girls.

"I'll leave them to you." Giyu stated, and then looked at the class. "And be good to your substitute. I don't want to hear anyone misbehaving."

They bowed as he exited the room and now all eyes were on you. You sighed to yourself.

I really gotta learn to say no sometimes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. It’s not that you hated kids or anything, but they always just see to have so much energy and well, you didn’t. Not even a cup of coffee could save you right now. You watched as the clock above your desk ticked and felt yourself getting more and more sleepier by the moment. Your consciousness fleeting as you lie under your warm blankets.

The image of that fiery haired man popped into your head and your eyes shot open.

You totally forgot to ask Giyu about that hot guy!

You let out a loud groan, knowing that your timing was off because now he would most definitely be suspicious if you asked him tomorrow. The curiosity of knowing that man itched at your skin. You absolutely had to know who he was.

What if he was a high school student, or worse a middle school student who looked very grown.

You outwardly icked at the thought, closing your eyes and scrunching your face in disgusted.

No way. He definitely had to be an adult. Maybe even a teacher.

“The history teacher!” You exclaimed out loud, shooting your whole body up.

It had to be him. You smiled victoriously to yourself, mentally patting yourself in the back.

And you had the perfect plan set up to find out.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had to have looked in the mirror for about three hours to make sure you looked absolutely stunning. Hair curled to frame your face perfectly, and make up subtle but very much enhancing your natural features. You rubbed your lips one more time in the mirror before smacking your hands to your face to wake yourself up. Giyu was not going to be happy.

The morning bells chimed and you were seated at the desk welcoming students as they walked in. You discreetly checked your make up in your compact mirror under the desk to make sure nothing was running and not a hair was out of place.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your blow out. All this work for a man that probably wasn’t even a teacher here.

“Miss [last name], what are you doing here.”

You froze at the voice. Nothing could prepare you for the icy glare that Giyu shot down at you. It sent a shiver down your spine. But his glare melted right off of you as you glanced over to the man next to him. Your mystery man finally come true!

“Oh hello, Mr. Tomioka. It’s pleasure seeing you.” You smiled, standing up. You looked right over to the handsome man right next to him. His hair like rays of sunlight with eyes to match. You could barely contain your excitement. “And you must be Mr. Renguko.”

His smile as big as the sun. Scratch that. He was the sun.

Bright, beautiful and fiery. He physically made you warmer just being in his very presence. You could’ve sworn you heard simultaneous female sighs in admiration, but you were way too distracted by how utterly gorgeous he was.

“Yes, I am.” He cheerfully stated. “And you must be the substitute that was in for me yesterday.”

He took your hand in his and you could’ve sworn you melted at his touch. Finely calloused hands, indicating that he worked with his hands a lot. Not that his physique couldn’t already tell you how absolutely fit he was.

“Yes, I am. Your class was wonderful. I didn’t have any problems with them whatsoever.” You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. This really was the man and it took every ounce of you not to pinch yourself to see if you were awake or not.

“So are you going to tell me why exactly you’re here today.” Giyu chimed in. This time his icy glare had no effect.

“Oh yes, I thought I was still scheduled for today. I never heard anything back from Mr.Tomioka so I assumed that I would head back in.” You lied right through your teeth and Giyu could see right through it.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And I remember emailing you last night confirming that Mr. Renguko was fully recovered and ready to work again.”

You couldn’t see it but Giyu was totally spitting out venom with every single word he spoke. It was almost terrifying, but you were way too distracted by the glow of the man that was the literal sun right beside you.

As if the smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“That’s odd. I don’t remember getting an email.” You innocently put a finger to your lip, and looked upward as if you were searching your head for the memory of the email confirmation that you definitely recall getting.

Giyu’s went from you to Mr.Renguko. And then it finally clicked for him. His shoulder dropped in defeat. He did not have the strength required to dealing with your shenanigans today. He turned around heading out the classroom, raising a hand to dismissively.

“Just don’t burn the place down.”

You gave him two big thumbs up. “You got it!”

"So would you like to observe the class since you're already here?" Mr.Renguko interjected. He motioned to the empty seat right beside his desk and chair.

You beamed at him. "Only if that's okay with your class, of course."

"Oh trust me, they are more than okay with that." He grinned at the students. Most of them smiled and blushed looking away from your direction. You sat there in confusion, but before you could inquire about what he said, he shot out of his seat and grabbed the stack of papers on his desk.

"Alright, class we are going to go over your classwork from yesterday and finish the rest of chapter six."

☆彡

It seemed like forever until Mr.Renguko had settled into his seat while he let his students work together on their classwork.

"I can see why my students are such big fans of you." He mused. You looked up from your phone and saw him warmly grinning at your face. This time you didn't fight the blood rushing to the surface of your cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," He pulled out a stack of notecards and began shuffling through them. "I always have my students write their own evaluations of my substitutes and yours were outstanding. Lots of compliments about your appearance and how you carried the class."

Evaluation? Appearance?

Your jaw went slightly aslack at his words. The only thing that left your lips: "Evaluations...?"

His grin grew. Mr.Rengoku knew that this had caught you off guard but he continued. "Yes, I like to know what substitutes are doing their job and keeping my students in line and comfortable."

You were almost speechless. "Wow, you must really care about your students."

He smiled softly this time, and fondly looked over at his students working diligently and quietly together. "Yes, I do. They're kind of like my own kids. I want the very best for them."

Just when you thought you couldn't admire him anymore that you already did. Hot and caring? It had to be too good to be true. You pointed to the best teacher of the year awards on his desk. "I guess you didn't get those just based off your looks alone then."

He visibly blushed and chuckled at you statement as he rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

You raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at the wall of photos and signatures that lined his wall. "That wall definitely says otherwise."

He laughed a hearty laugh this time. "I don't really think that's the case. Like I said I just look after my students like their my own. They really are my pride and joy."

It really was incredibly hard to not let yourself melt into a puddle in his presence alone. But before you could collect your thoughts, the lunch bell rang and students filed out to their homeroom's and handing in their assignments on their way out. Most of the girls shot you dirty looks before heading out as a way of showing their contempt towards you before the smiled at Mr.Rengoku who was collecting papers at the doorway. At this point, you literally couldn't blame them. Their teacher was a total hottie and you were practically stealing him right under their noses.

As the last student handed in their assignment, Mr. Rengoku closed the door behind them and approached his desk to set aside the stack of papers. He pulled put a box of tissues, picking one out and sneezed rather loudly into it. Cheeks were now a hue of vermillion and he slighted groaned while holding his head.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Renguko." You stated worriedly.

He waved you off. "Nonsense, I'm fine. And you can drop the formalities when were not in front of students. Call me Kyojuro."

You sighed as you fumbled through your bag handing him some cold and flu pills and a packet of vitamin c. "Ok, Kyojuro. You can call me [first name], but I'm going to need you to take these for me and get on home."

He blew loudly into his tissue before tossing into the trash revealing his very red nose. "I-I'm fine, Miss [last name]-- I mean [first name]. Really, I'm ok." He stuttered as he tried to collect himself and get up. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold himself up for more than ten seconds before collapsing and luckily you were there to catch him. He seemed to have been mumbled incoherent words as he laid heavily in your arms. You sighed as you slowly laid him down on the ground and reached for your cellphone to dial the one person you knew could handle this situation the best.

"You didn't actually burn the place down did you?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, idiot. Teacher down."

"Ah, fuck."

[ushidoux]

Look at Me, Senpai - Hinata x Reader x Daichi

Summary: Reader starts to see Hinata in a different light once he returns from Brazil. It turns out Hinata’s inability to give up isn’t just something restricted to the court. (~3.6k words)

Warnings: fem!reader, nsfw, infidelity, a touch of the yandere

A/N: This got really long so I split it in half lmfao, expect part 2 in a couple of days.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

Senpai, I like you.

As you continued to sit courtside, watching Karasuno’s team overtake the opposition led by your boyfriend Daichi Sawamura, your eyes briefly settled on Hinata, the orange-haired first year. When the ball finally sailed over to him, and he hit it with an inhuman speed, the middle blocker’s signature, you thought briefly about his frank and surprisingly serious confession earlier in the day. How bold! You hadn’t taken it seriously of course - your affection towards him was nothing short of motherly. Plus, he was well aware of how serious you were about Daichi. 

What an odd joke, you thought, but you had played along with it despite the fact that you knew he meant what he said, dismissing him with a laugh and a pat on the head.

I like you too, Hinata! You’re very fun to be around!

His smile had only wavered slightly at your words but you could feel his eyes get just a little darker as the twang of rejection set in.

But he was just a baby and this was just puppy love. He’d get over it eventually, right? He’d eventually find someone his own age. 

Suddenly across the court, you could feel Hinata’s gaze fall on you again, and he smiled again, but this time it was different. Maybe it was bleed over from the boundless confidence and determination he had whenever he stepped on the court, but something about the way his eyes flashed just for a moment as he looked at you made your face grow just a little bit warm.

[Years pass.]

“So when’s the wedding?!” 

Your grandmother’s voice blared through the phone in raucous joy as you laughed and tried to field her many follow-up questions. She, like almost everyone else you had told, was incredibly excited about your proposal, and despite the fact that it was only three days later, the high was already starting to fade and you were getting tired of answering the same questions.

When’s the wedding? Where’s the wedding? How excited are you? Are you already pregnant? Are you going to move into a house? 

Between your grandmother, your parents and siblings, your wonderful friends, your neighbors - honestly, literally everyone and their mother - you were feeling incredibly supported during this time. But still, somehow, something felt wrong, and you couldn’t exactly place why. 

Once you had finally answered Grandma’s questions to her satisfaction, you hung up the phone and flopped backwards back into your bed with a sigh. Holding up one hand in front of you to display your engagement ring, you inspected the stone carefully, letting it glimmer in the slowly fading sunlight beaming in through your bedroom window. 

“Mrs. Sawamura,” you tried out the name in a soft whisper. It had a nice sound to it,  ____ Sawamura. This was what you had always wanted, ever since you had met and started dating in high school. You’d always wanted to support his dreams, whether it was excelling at schoolwork, volleyball, joining the police force… and what better way to do it by agreeing to be his wife and spending the rest of your life with him? So many years had passed with you by his side, this was only the next natural step.

So what exactly was this reticence inside of you? You knew he would be good to you, no matter what, even if you felt that something about your relationship had already started to lose its spark. He had been working longer days and later nights, leaving very little time for you, and with all this time left alone, sometimes you regretted not having spent more time in high school or even later on making friends outside of those people he knew. The problem was that the volleyball team was so warm from the start, and you were so invested in caring for them as Daichi was… maybe this was some form of delayed empty nest syndrome, solidifying as the members all grew up and grew apart.

You checked the time on the small wall clock before you. Daichi wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours, and again you couldn’t fault him for this. The ring on your finger looked quite expensive, so he’d clearly worked hard to afford it.

Maybe you would draw.

Minutes passed, maybe even an hour, and as the sun finally set, you set down your pencil and reached over to your window to close the curtains so that the neighbors couldn’t peer into your home once you turned on the lights. Clicking on the bedside lamp, you settled back into a cross-legged position before your large sketchbook again, now taking a second look at your drawing.

An ordinary but hyper realistic-looking crow now peered back at you, almost as if it were wondering why you had decided on putting it to paper out of all the things that could have come to mind. You looked at it carefully and remembered a single fact about crows:

Crows never forget a face.

---

The next morning was Sunday and Daichi was fortunately off work for the day so you sat with your new fiancé at the kitchen table, listening to him talk excitedly about the week as the two of you shared a large omelette and munched on toasted bread.

“Honestly, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I see, babe, it’s really something.”

His laugh was always hearty and you couldn’t deny the sparkle in his brown eyes as he shared work shenanigans with you, so while you were uncomfortable with the idea of him being in harm’s way so often as a police officer, you couldn’t help but smile with him whenever he did. His happiness was infectious, especially when he held your hand tightly and squeezed it just like this very moment, interlocking his fingers with yours as he ate with his other hand.

Once he finished eating, he leaned over to kiss you on the forehead, threading his fingers through your hair. 

“Thanks for breakfast, baby,” he whispered, his voice smooth and lowered an octave. With his gaze, he drank up the image of you only in his oversized t-shirt and panties before pulling you towards him so that you straddled his hips as he sat on the chair. With you pressed close to him like this, between his hardening cock and the edge of the table, you could feel your breath hitch ever so slightly in your throat. Years had passed and you were still like this - you were still the shy, bashful girl who dared to date the captain of the volleyball team. 

“Daichi…,” you trailed off, as he started to litter soft kisses on your collarbones.

“Do you want to uh…,” he paused and pulled back, a smile spreading across his features, as one of his hands found its way up your shirt to palm your breast, “... start off our morning right?”

 He didn’t bother waiting for your reply before his lips met yours for dessert.

---

Parted thighs and many soft sighs later, the two of you lay side by side in pleasant exhaustion. You stared at the ceiling, your cheeks flushed as you pulled air into your overworked lungs. Daichi’s head found its way to rest in the softness of your abdomen and you languidly caressed his hair, your body still buzzing from lovemaking. 

Daichi was clearly apologizing for passing out the moment he came home, you knew, and you appreciated his thoughtfulness. As you continued to softly scratch his scalp, the soft glow of the late morning sun warmed the two of you up even further and you knew that this feeling had to be what ballads were all about.

Love. 

You loved Daichi. Right?

His fingers traced up and down your thighs, just barely avoiding the dampness of him releasing inside you just moments earlier slowly leaking from your center.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as his fingers traveled your skin. He always told you this, reminded you were the most wonderful girl in the world. 

And he was the most wonderful man on Earth. How incredible it was that you had found each other, you thought, as you lay together for what felt like hours and found yourself dozing off in each other’s embrace. 

Yes, this was enough.

---

“You don’t have to go all out babe, it’s just the guys!” Daichi’s loud voice carried from outside the bathroom as you perfected your mascara. You ignored him with a playful roll of the eye even though you couldn’t see him, focusing on perfecting a winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. It had been a while since you had dressed up, and it didn’t hurt to really go all out. This was a sort of mini-reunion anyway and what better way to make your fiancé proud than to make all his friends jealous?

“I thought you said I was pretty this morning,” you called out, as you dabbed perfume behind your ears and at the center of your chest. “Don’t you want everyone else to know?”

With that you posed dramatically at the end of the hallway, cat-walking with a face so straight it was ridiculous until you reached Daichi who stood at the front of your door, holding in a laugh. You burst into laughter once you reached him, falling into his chest.

“Let’s go see your old team!” You said, quickly pushing him away playfully when his eager hands settled too comfortably on your ass. He nodded, deciding to grab your hand instead as your cab approached.

Your car ride was short and your mind started to wander as you idly rubbed the knuckles of Daichi’s hand with your thumb. You remembered him telling you vaguely about one of his teammates returning to Japan, prompting the reunion, the orange-haired one named Hinata who you recalled was nothing short of a ball of sunshine and had confessed to you once.

Senpai, I like you.

Well, he would probably have gotten over that crush by now. It had been years.

The restaurant was loud when you entered, following Daichi closely. A table full of young men almost erupted in praise once the two of you approached.

“Captain!”

Tanaka, who you recognized easily from his shaved head and brash attitude came sailing over to essentially crush Daichi in a headlock, but before he could reach him, the orange-haired boy who had just graced your thoughts a couple of minutes earlier beat him to it, slapping him heartily on the back.

“You finally made it! Did you miss me?” Hinata said, with a grin and for a split second, you thought you saw his eyes flit to you. Without warning, your mind started to race, realizing that immediately your face had started to warm as you watched your goofy little underclassman with a crush talk and tease your fiancé animatedly- 

And to your dismay, you realized you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

---

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had you unsettled throughout the lively dinner - was it the fact that even though you sat by Kiyoko, the previous team manager, she seemed to be more focused on eating quietly, a smile on her face as she basked in the glory days with the boys? Or was it the fact that you could see Hinata’s rare but noticeable furtive glances towards you, the ones that Daichi seemed to miss now that he was more than a little drunk judging by how red he was in the face? Maybe it was the fact that you were trying to understand what was this sudden gravitational pull you felt towards Hinata at first glance, something that made very little sense to you and seemed oh-so-very-wrong.

Was it the fact that while he was still shorter than average for a volleyball player, his time in Brazil had tanned his skin nicely, bringing out the well toned muscles in his shoulders or arms? Or that while his eyes were still bright and kind, the angles in his face had grown sharper and his smile had made the very slight shift from determined to confident and almost even cocky? 

What the hell was it that had you suddenly so distracted?

You fiddled with the ring on your finger above the table between bites of grilled meat and poured sake, trying desperately to make small talk with Kiyoko, only to be disappointed by how unsuccessful you were in engaging yourself in meaningful conversation.

Eventually you decided to get up for some fresh air, giving Daichi a little nudge on the back to let him know you were stepping out and took a seat in a small chair set outside the chilly restaurant meant for smokers. It was nice to have a little more quiet, and you briefly pondered if Daichi would be okay with you going home first. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and it was about to get way worse since it turned out that Hinata had followed you out.

“Heya!” Hinata’s voice startled you as he approached, quickly taking a seat beside you. Your face flushing for the second time today (you blamed it on the alcohol, of course), you eked out a hello, mentally shaming yourself for being so awkward.

“You were quiet in there...” 

“A-ah, yes! It’s just I haven’t really seen any of you guys in a while and we weren’t close, so it was a bit hard to follow the conversations…,” you trailed off, not making eye contact. You decided that a good way to politely add distance would be to re-introduce yourself even though you knew exactly who he was now, and you knew he remembered you. 

You stuck your hand out to greet him formally with a handshake.

“I don’t know if you still remember me but I’m ____ -”

“I know,” Hinata interrupted curtly, without looking directly at you and your hand fell to your side slowly and returned to your lap. He stared out at the street with his face unsmiling, a look that appeared almost unnatural for someone like him and then turned back to you to give you a wide smile anew.

“How have you been? I didn’t think I’d see you here again!” He was cheerful again and polite as always, but for a moment you felt mildly insulted, as though he’d implied that maybe he didn’t expect you to be with Daichi for this long.

Maybe you were just overreacting.

...

Yeah, you were just overreacting.

“Mmm, things have been great!” You replied earnestly, fiddling subconsciously with your engagement ring again, only to catch him laying eyes on it but making no comment. For some reason, you didn’t feel like it was worth mentioning either.

Silence sat between the two of you as you stared out into the road again together. Two strangers who’d known each other briefly. You wished he would go back in and the night would be over and you could forget the fact that you were suddenly attracted to him.

Ah, that was it. And that would be it.

Hinata spoke again and your heart thumped at his simple question, “Are you happy?”

You gave him a look of confusion but you could already tell what he meant just by the look in his eyes. The same look he gave his opponents on the court, the one that demanded to be taken seriously. 

While, it wasn’t exactly the same look that he gave you when you brushed his confession off those many years ago, it was pretty darn close.

“Y-yes?” You asked, feigning incomprehension. He smiled in response but not with his eyes.

“When’s the wedding?”

The shift of his tone back to excitement was jarringly unnatural, especially since you hadn’t even brought up your wedding, and now you wondered how one person could be confident enough to appear out of nowhere and ask bold questions to a complete stranger.

“I’m not sure yet… we haven’t planned yet.”

“Great!” He interjected suddenly, and rose to his feet. “I still have time!”

Time?

He turned to re-enter the restaurant as you looked at him in shock and incredulity. “Excuse me, time to do what?” You asked, immediately questioning why those words had come out of your mouth the moment they did.

Hinata turned to face you, his smile only mildly sinister when compared to the seriousness of his gaze.

“Time to convince you, of course. I've always liked you from the start, ___, and I think… actually I know that I can treat you better than Daichi does.”

And with that he turned the corner, re-entering the restaurant and leaving you in a complete and utter shock.

---

Who would believe you?

Sweet little Hinata threatening to break up your upcoming marriage? 

Sweet little Hinata planning to steal your heart right under his senpai’s nose? 

Sweet little Hinata texting you suddenly at 11pm the next day while you got ready for bed just to let you know that he was “thinking of you”?

You looked at the phone incredulously, your other hand still holding your toothbrush wondering how to best respond to the message. The obvious answer was to block his number - you weren’t exactly sure how he’d gotten it anyway, but as your finger hovered over the button, you paused.

Then Daichi turned the corner of your bathroom door and startled, you fumbled and dropped your phone.

“You okay, Shakes?” He joked, as he reached for your phone, but you grabbed it quickly, locking it and placing it facedown on the bathroom sink. You quickly nodded, continuing to brush rapidly.

“Can you believe he grew taller?”

Your eyes rose.

“H-he?”

Daichi laughed. “Hinata, of course. He was such a shrimp, remember? I mean he’s still not that tall, but he definitely looks a lot more like an adult, right?”

“Y-yeah…,” you agreed, sheepishly, as Daichi hopped into bed, leaving you to squirm at the sight of your own reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

---

The next morning, you woke up to no new messages on your phone and breathed a sigh of relief, assuming that your non-response had sent the point across to the young volleyball player. With that odd guilt now off your shoulders, you occupied yourself with the first steps of wedding planning, spending most of the day browsing through websites and calling companies. You were determined to do this mostly yourself and do it right.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were trying to prove but over the next couple of weeks, you dove headfirst into flowers and venues and elaborate table accents and fancy invitations and ignoring Hinata’s messages that had now upgraded to thirst traps that kept your eyes lingering on the phone way too long, while Daichi spent more and more time at work, and less and less time with you, until suddenly…

“Daichi!”

For the fourth night in a row, Daichi had come home in the middle of the night and wordlessly crawled into bed beside you as you tossed and turned waiting for him to come home, because that was all you did: waste time until he returned to you, of course. What else could you do? Your world was so small, after all.

And it would only get smaller once you got married. Your miniscule sphere of existence centered around Daichi and you were beginning to resent it. 

Was that the reason you were starting to save every one of Hinata’s dirty pictures?

Dirty was an overstatement - you had seen everything up to his V-line and while your artist’s eye could now trace every single bit of his anatomy from memory, you couldn’t say anything he sent you was truly risqué, could you? Maybe he sent those pics to every girl on his phone, or maybe you were different...

That was besides the point. The point was that suddenly the man who lay beside you every night was no longer doing it for you.

“___,” Daichi whispered groggily, revealing that he really had just passed out the moment his head hit the pillow. “I really need to sleep… what’s the problem?” 

You faltered, unable to come up with something to explain why you’d just thrown a mini-tantrum.

“... there’s no problem, I was just… never mind.”

Too many things bubbled inside you and were left unspoken that night, and so in order to express yourself, you settled on, or rather on top, something way worse.

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect it to be this easy.”

Hinata didn’t mean to be offensive - howcouldhebehewassuchasweetboyafterall - but the pang of guilt in your chest said otherwise, as you inhaled and exhaled softly under the weight of his muscular body pressed against yours.

Maybe you felt bad, but the feeling was short-lived because once Hinata’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips and gripped you tightly, firmly, so much so in fact you were sure it was just to prove that for all these years you had really belonged to him, he thrust into you so sharply and precisely that you let out a gasp as the intense pleasure blinded you.

“S-Shoyo!”

“Say it louder,” was all he whispered as he flipped you over before slamming you down onto him hard, sending another wave of intense stimulation through you.

You screamed his name again, tears now coming to your eyes as he bucked his hips against you, bouncing you up and down his deliciously large cock at a brutal, energetic pace, knowing very well that you couldn’t keep up from the short, unintelligible sounds now leaping out of your throat.

“You’ve always been mine, ___. You just didn’t know it yet.”

Warm wetness streaming from your face almost as much as from the space between your legs, you couldn’t find the words to protest. Did you want to protest? Was he right? Wasn’t he right?

Your mind was too hazy for thought, and instead you let selfish desire overtake you for the rest of the night.

[sweet-rintarou]

"How long have you been in the limelight?" You asked as you popped an olive into your mouth. Right now, you were on your entrée meals of an Alfresco pasta dish, and Oikawa devouring a shrimp Alfredo. You were expected to spend at least an hour or so to allow the media to think it was a legitimate date. However, since the food started coming in, the two of you were only ranting about each other's agencies, the media being idiots and also how the entire plan is going to crumble at some point. 

"Since I was in middle school, around that time��I think towards the end of middle school," he explained, "I started getting a lot of popularity in high school though, but that was only within my prefecture." 

"Must've sucked to never go to nationals, huh?" How you nonchalantly stated it caused him to send you a dumbfounded look. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Yeah, I know," he huffed, "but nah, it sucked I couldn't take my team, but we've settled everything now and we've all moved on." 

"How mature."

"Thank you," he smiled sarcastically, "anyway, after moving to Argentina, I was off the Japan radar for a while, and when I came back, I became a national pride despite playing for another team, and they've approached me for advertising and stuff, and now, they asked for me to star in a web series to which leads us right here." 

"How things work out, ya know?" You couldn't help but say out loud. 

"Yeah, I just wish Ushijima could've stayed in volleyball so I could play against him and beat him, ya know?"

"How're you so sure that you'd beat him?"

"If you've seen my team, we'd win for sure," he boasted. "It's funny though, I thought I'd never meet him if he didn't continue volleyball, but look at you being a complete simp for him."

"Hey!" You protested, cheeks flushing red. "I'm only partly a simp."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever lets you sleep at night." You rolled your eyes, wiping the sauce with your bread. "Did you tell him about this?"

"Nope, couldn't if I wanted to," you told him, "the agency won't allow it."

"How do you think he'd react?" You stared at each other, sure enough you were both thinking the same thing as the image of the stoic and almost expression-less Wakatoshi Ushijima came to mind. 

"Yeah, I shouldn't have asked."

-

The conversation began to flow towards each other, and if anyone were to observe the both of you, no one would ever believe that you'd be dating, even if it was for a PR stunt. You both shared similar views, and personalities weren't too far apart, that it seemed you were best friends since birth. 

"I feel like if Ushijima and I were to go to the same school, we'd be a great duo," Oikawa rambled on, "he was a very powerful offense player, while I had a name for myself in setting, and if were to be in the same team, it would've worked out incredibly well and our team would probably be one of the toughest.”

You only listened, other than Semi, Oikawa would be one of the few sources you could be in contact with that would allow you to get to know Ushijima. 

"But his ideas didn't match with mine and he was suffocating when were played against each other," he said, "I'm sure he's a great guy and to be honest I'd like to meet up with him and get to know him outside of volleyball, but damn, I'd probably punch him first."

"Yeah no, do not do that," you complained. "He was... interesting when I first met him—he hated my band." The dry laugh indicated it was still a bitter memory. 

"Damn, really?"

"Yeah, he refused to support Semi on his choice to pursue music, but that was because our genre didn't cater to his taste," you explained, "but it's fine now... I hope."

"Yeah, I feel like your company will change the image of the band." You nodded, unable to think of anything to say. "When does your contract end with them?"

"Around five years, if I'm not wrong." 

"Damn, that's a long time." Again, you nodded. 

"But, if there's any mistreatment then there's a possibility to terminate it," you tried to view the bright side, "then again, the company itself has a huge presence in the industry..."

"Your fans won't allow anything to happen to you, I'm sure." You could only nod and send him a small smile, but even he was sure you were skeptical. Seeing that you were over the dinner, he stood up and extended his hand. "Shall we proceed?" Releasing the last groan of frustration, you linked arms with Oikawa and prepared to reveal yourselves to the public. 

"Prepare for your social medias to be flooded," he whispered before you both exit through the front door. You'd almost think it was day with how much light was flashing from the cameras, and you hastily pushed your way through the crowd and into the car that was waiting. Eyes casted away from the paparazzi, questions inquiring your date, when it had all began, and if its official were being yelled throughout the crowd. 

Once seated in the car, Oikawa began driving and glanced at you worriedly.  

"I'm gonna blackout tonight," you stated out loud with a heavy sigh, which Oikawa responded with a laugh. 

silver lining | w. ushijima smau

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part thirty

—blackout

author's note: heyhey heyy, let us pray that i will have ideas for upcoming parts🥵

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[terrortalesv]

Starting a family

@tr85n asked for prompt #99 from that list, with Pam/Benson.

Human AU where Stella is the bio child of both of them.

Pam chews on a pen absently as she wanders into the breakroom to join her coworkers, who had already started their lunch break about ten minutes prior. Instantly, the smell of tuna and mayo hits her nose and makes her gag.

She steps out again and runs to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Leaning against the washbasin for a few seconds, she waits to see if the feeling will pass or get worse, sighing with relief when it goes away. Weird. What is going on lately? she thinks.

Pam looks at herself in the mirror again and leaves the bathroom.

When she returns, her colleagues welcome her back with strange stares. Fortunately, they are all no longer eating, so the food, including the dreaded tuna, is gone, though she swears some vague smells still linger. She tries to ignore it, and sits down.

“Uhh, yes?” Pam looks around at the group while she takes her salad from the fridge beside her.

“Pam? Is everything okay? You seem a little… off today,” Stefan takes the seat right next to her. His tone is sincere, maybe even a little worried, the giggle as he snatches a piece of tomato from her bowl decidedly less so. Pam tosses a glare his way.

She shoves a forkful of leaves into her mouth before speaking, “I don’t know, it’s really weird.” And then she rattles off the various things she’s been dealing with as of late. She describes the mood swings, the fatigue, the constant hunger, the nausea.

By the end of her spiel, Stefan and her other closest coworker, Tobias, are giving each other a strange look, as if they’re in on a secret, a piece of the puzzle that they want to reveal but aren’t exactly allowed to.

“Ohhh. I know what’s going on here,” Tobias says smugly. The other man chuckles.

Pam looks at him and puts more salad in her mouth, not bothering to ask him to elaborate. She knows he will regardless.

“Obviously somebody’s pregnant,” Tobias leans over the table, close to her face, and says in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooohhh! Uh-oh!” Stefan teases.

Pam’s eyes widen and she almost chokes on some cracked pepper. After a few brief seconds, she comes to her senses.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. It’s probably just that bug that’s been going around,” she tells them, and continues eating.

“Actually, yeah, maybe it is,” one of their older colleagues chimes in as he gets up to leave the breakroom.

“Psh, yeah. Whatever you say,” Tobias teases. He rolls his eyes and then he and his friend exit the room to go back to work, leaving Pam alone.

She sighs into her salad bowl and stabs at the remaining leaves with her fork. “Pregnant? Yeah, really funny, guys. No way,” she laughs to herself, but those strange symptoms linger in the back of her mind and she begins to have doubts.

No, but we haven’t even been trying. Besides, I’m way past that age anyway, right? Obviously it’s just a coincidence and they were messing with me. Yeah. You’re not pregnant, Pam, stop thinking about that.

She doesn’t stop thinking about it. She spends most of the next few hours thinking about it, convincing herself she’s not pregnant, that that was just a stupid joke those guys were telling, and then doubting herself.

She continues like this for a while, until she steps into one room to check on the equipment and sees something that catches her eye. She remembers their boss telling them about this thing, a super new, super high-tech machine that allows the user to see inside anything. She remembers her telling them about how this device was not only better than a standard x-ray machine, but safer.

Pam thinks for a moment. I mean, I already know I’m not pregnant. But what’s the harm in just having a little look-see, right?

She checks to see if there’s anyone watching her and closes the blinds just in case someone might walk by. Breathing a sigh, Pam presses some buttons on the device, listens as it whirs to life, and steps behind it.

She has to wait a few minutes before an image appears on the whiteboard to her right. All the usual things are there, nothing seems amiss. That is, until she shifts her eyes to her lower belly area, where a tiny, strange shape sits. 

Her heart sinks and the nausea returns with a vengeance. She looks away from the screen, breathing heavily. Whatever it is, upon first glance it looks unlike anything that would ordinarily be inside a healthy human body. Pam swallows, although the dryness in her mouth doesn’t so easily allow it.

What is that? Some kind of weird mass in my stomach. Oh, no. It can’t be. Is this how I’m going to die? I should’ve caught this so much sooner, it’s probably way too late to deal with it now. But maybe I should book in with a doctor anyway, see if they can—

She shakes her head. Slowly she comes to her senses, though her heart rate and breathing take longer to return to normal.

“It’s okay, Pam. You’re not dying. At least not yet. Let’s just take a better look at this thing and then make our assumptions,” she tells herself.

She cautiously cranes her neck to look at the board again and takes more notice of the shape. One part of it is much larger, and the other has four small… things sticking out from it. She swears she sees a tiny human in that shape, as strange as it sounds, with the big head and teeny-tiny limbs. Wait.

Hand over face, Pam slowly steps away from the machine and turns it off. The picture is still projected on the wall. She stares wordlessly, eyes wide, hands slipping down to her belly. She’s unsure if she should be concerned or happy.

A million thoughts race through her mind at once, not daring to leave her alone for even a second, as much as she tries to ignore them. She wanders the halls of the vast laboratory, pretending to work whenever someone else is nearby, but spends the remainder of the work day too distracted to actually do anything.

How am I going to tell Benson? How is he going to react? Does he even want to be a dad? He seems perfectly content with just the pets. And what about me? Am I even cut out to be a mom? The animals are kind of a handful already, how are we possibly going to deal with a kid?

When Pam arrives home, she walks past the throng of cats that greet her at the door, enters their bedroom and flops down on the bed, exhausted.

She tells herself she’s only going to lie down for an hour, but wakes up several hours later to the sound of her husband setting the table for dinner. Groggily, she gets up and stumbles out to the kitchen.

Benson’s head snaps up at the sound of her footsteps and he smiles at her. She loves that smile, so much so that it causes all her worries to fade away. But not for very long.

“Hey! Sleep well?” He puts an arm around her and kisses her on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Pam offers him a tired smile and sits down at her usual chair. Benson quickly follows, tucking her chair in for her and then sitting down himself. He scoops up some pesto linguine and plops it onto both of their plates, then grabs a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite out of it. Pam tries her best to eat as much as she can, but her mind is still elsewhere. Benson notices.

“Pam, honey? You okay? You don’t look like yourself tonight,” Benson reaches a hand across the table to grab hers and gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Um, oh, I…” she sighs, turning her hand over to give his a squeeze, “can I tell you something?” Her heart races and she sips from a glass of water in an attempt to ease her dry mouth. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Who knows, maybe putting it out there and telling him will help calm my nerves.

“Yeah, of course,” her husband looks her in the eye with a smile, voice as calm and comforting as he can possibly make it. He takes another bite of bread.

“I…” she has to clear her throat, “I’m pregnant.”

Pam watches Benson’s face. He takes a moment to process her words, then his expression goes blank and he coughs up some crumbs. A strange combination of concern and surprise paints his pale, bearded face. Slowly, a large grin appears and the tips of his ears turn pink. Pam swears she’s never seen him look so in love.

“Oh, my god… Are you for real? We’re gonna be parents? I’m gonna be a dad?” Benson whispers, almost a squeal.

“Benson? You okay?”

He wipes that tear from his eye before answering, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m great.” He gets up from his chair, seemingly completely forgetting about the food on his plate, and kneels in front of her. He gently wraps his arms around her and presses his fleshy, weathered cheek against her belly.

“We’re having a bay-bee,” he says, in a high-pitched, sing-song voice that Pam has never heard before, even after all these years.

Later that night, as they’re lying in bed facing each other, Benson gives Pam a kiss on the nose and whispers, “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

‘I know, you keep saying that,” she giggles.

“Well, I can’t help it. We’re having a baby. Together. Don’t you think that’s… the best?” He moves some hair out of her eye with a finger.

Pam can only respond with a tired “mm-hmm” as she closes her eyes. Benson carefully presses a cold, calloused hand to her belly and she shivers.

“Sorry,” he tilts his head toward where his hand is sitting, “we’re so excited to meet you, baby.”

“You know it can’t hear yet, dad.”

“Dad…” just from the tone of his voice, Pam can tell Benson likes the sound of that.

[justasparkwritings]

Butter: A Collaborative Fantasy

A collaborative fantasy... please feel free to add to your master lists, to reblog and leave comments, to tag other writers. If more people write chunks, I will update this as the MAIN Butter & Unsalted collaborative filthy fantasy. 

IF I MISSED YOUR POST - TAG ME PLS

Additions to the story are getting lost in the other likes/reblogs (who ever thought I’d say that?), so PLEASE tag me! If you add on to the story - try and do it on the original post! 

Banner - me

OG prompt: Okay who is writing the fic Butter and it’s sequel, Unsalted?

@xjoonchildx​

what was her name again? margeríne?

sounded french. hoseok couldn’t exactly recall. all he could think about was her golden glow, the way she glistened. how smooth and creamy and delicious she looked in the candlelight.

just one look and hoseok knew —

he was toast.

@hauntedlilies​

Nothing could compare to. her -  not even Olivia, with her dark eyes. and long lashes fluttering so prettily against her cheeks when he took her extra virginity. 

He knew she deserved better, not a man functioning. like an. emotionally detached, well-oiled machine, but as he got lost in her heat all he could think of was how badly he wished he was churning someone else. 

Her. 

The image of skimming her sweet cream played like a feedback loop inside his head and when he spilled himself all over the woman underneath him, it was someone else’s name that slipped past his lips. 

As Olivia peppered a row of kisses along his jaw he buried his face in her hair, ears burning and the mess between their bodies a sticky reminder of his shame. Even after all this time, he knew no one could ever butter his croissant like Margeríne. 

@hesperantha​

Her memory was as sweetly-salted as the tears that ran down his fresh-baked cheeks

—the way she had rendered at his touch, creamy and moist, oleascent, at least 80% fat.

He bid his farewells to Olivia, the taste of their lovemaking already rancid on his tongue. Without a second glance he slid out the door and melted into the night.

@jinpanman​

It is fate when he sees Margeríne next on a Friday morning at Cat’s Tall Milk Café. Olivia is all but forgotten as Margeríne strides up to serve him with his plate, hot and ready.

The morning light that filters through the windows envelopes her in the softest glow and he once again wonders if her skin is as supple as it looks. Hoseok watches, hypnotized with the way sweat rolls down her forehead and drips onto his toasted bread, painting it in splatters of milky white and golden yellow.

Oh, how he would much rather her cream be drippin’ elsewhere— He takes in a sharp inhale and wills away the dirty thoughts. All in due time…

Boldly, he takes her hand before she can leave. “Please, let me take you out to the pastures this weekend!” It is to his great delight that she accepts.

Later that evening, a freshly waxed and glistening Margeríne tosses in bed and recounts her meeting with the most dashing man. She can’t wait to see if Hoseok will be The One who can whip her hard enough to make her cream.

THE STORY DIVERGED IT WAS MY FAULT

@justasparkwritings​

Seokjin stared at her, perplexed. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Hoseok answered, cheeks burned from the summer heat.

“I just can’t believe she’s not butter,” Seokjin stared mystified at the spot she seemed to have melted from.

@ladyartemesia​

“I know... She looks just like her doesn’t she?”

“Yes, but it’s been centuries... The odds of her reappearing are spread so thin—”

“You saw the same thing I did. I don’t care what she’s calling herself this time around.”

“Well,” Seokjin drawled, a clever smirk drifting across his lips, “there’s only one way to find out isn’t there.”

Hoseok knew what was coming next, but the words still sent a sizzling shock of sensations down his spine.

“You’ll have to taste her.”

The younger man shook his head wryly.

“And how exactly do you propose I do that?”

Seokjin leaned back against the bar, letting his smirk deepen into shameless grin.

“I can tell you right now it’s going to take a lot of bread.”

@taegularities​

"Are you serious? I can't just walk over and butter her up. What if I scare her?" Hoseok hissed as the older man rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner.

"Look, either you take your chances or crumble for another century without her. We both know what that did to you."

Hoseok knew Seokjin was right. He'd waited for far too long to let this opportunity pass — but how would he control his churning stomach when he approached his girl, suppress the urge to call her by her old nickname Buttercup? As he'd always used to.

"Go and tell her you loaf her, Hoseok."

The man in question turned around, eyebrows furrowing as he asked, "What did you say?"

Seokjin sighed. "You love her. Tell her."

@hobipaint​

"Love her? Straight away? Won't that be a bit too.. greasy?" Hoseok asked.

"There's nothing like too much grease, Hoseok. We literally saved the burnt bread in the morning by over greasing it. Go ahead."

Hoseok sighed. His friend was about as useful as a butter knife in spreading cold butter.

"Look, unless you jam your way into her life, she's going to see you as this unnecessary, ignorant hole in the bread she's baking."

"That's why we use butter, right? clog up the hole-y bread and relish the creamy goodness surrounding the hard centre?"

Focus, Hoseok, focus.

"Yeah, but there's a very small margarine of error you can loose your Buttercup by. Unless you go overboard, you'll slip all over and make a mess. Butter her up, figuratively and literally."

@joheunsaram​

Before Hoseok could gather his nerves to make his way over, he and Seokjin were joined by Jimin, their golden haired friend sauntering over excitedly.

“Did you guys see her?” He asked in a theatrical whisper, groaning with his hands on his chest. “She’s absolutely divine, can’t wait to melt her on my tongue!”

Seokjin grimaced at his choice of words, opting to flick him not so gently on the forehead as he scowled. Hoseok, however, was still processing his friend’s comment.

“You like her?” He asked, incredulous, suddenly worried about competition.

Jimin smirked, an eyebrow raised, before chuckling. “Don’t spread this around, but me and her? Let’s just say we’ve been enjoying each other since the time I lost my jams.”

Hoseok could not help the way his heart jolted with envy.

(unsure which came first, @joheunsaram​ or @hobipaint​) 

TO BE CONTINUED

[mockingjayne12]

Take Me Home

(Jamie x Claire / Outlander Fic)

CHAPTER ONE:

Toes wiggle further underneath the blanket, chipped black varnish sinking her deeper into the darkness she sits in.  Pale freckles against even paler skin, hip bones jutting out through the sliver of space exposed in the stolen, oversized shirt she drowns in.  Half truths burn on her lips, screaming loudly in the settled wine at the bottom of her stomach.  Bound coffee stained words rest in her lap, speaking to a universal yearning for something she can’t utter but felt she’d grasped once before, fleetingly slipping through her gold ringed fingers.  Grown out, curly, dark fringe lays a veil over pools of blue, blearily leaving an image of what once was, the swirling memory of regret that continues to grow.

“You are my home,” she’d whispered to him, tears having threatened to mix with the beauty disguised as chaos, a breath away from ending them both.

For somewhere, once, she thought she had been truly seen, but found she was soon forgotten.

xxxxx

ONE YEAR EARLIER

Claire sets the plate back down, blowing her curly tendrils away from her forehead, an exasperated sigh escaping along with her patience with this day.

“What’s wrong this time?” She hears Rupert ask, bending to see her through the metal of soon to be waiting dishes, the heat lamp setting off a warmth that only leaves her feeling sweaty, her curls threatening to throw a tantrum along with the customers.

“They want the inside of the bread taken out…’too many calories’,” she says, momentarily ditching her English accent to put on her best impersonation of what she knew to be the typical toned voice that frequented the establishment, with a roll of her eyes, letting Rupert know she thought it was just as ridiculous as the raised eyebrows staring back at her.

She doesn’t miss his murmuring curse, and fights back a laugh - Rupert being one of the few friendly faces that has been around as long as she, working the trenches of customer service day in, day out.

Turning to wait for the remade food, she rests against the counter.  It’s a relatively slow day at the restaurant, the lunch crowd having subsided, only the few stragglers, straddling a meal at a time of day that made little sense, but allowing her more time to make a mental list of things she needed to do when she got off.  At the top of the list, stop and get cat food before Adso decided to lay claws to the walls in protest of his lack of sustenance.  

“I just had a guy tell me he wished I had more Daddy issues so I’d work at a strip club,” Claire’s coworker, Gillian, says with a flourish of her hands.

Claire makes a grimace, her face scrunching up in disgust.

“Not even the worst thing I’ve heard this week,” Gillian says with a shrug, blowing off the comment along with all the others that were meant to go in one ear and out the other, an endless cycle of demeaning words thrown at them, expected to be swallowed with a smile all in the name of “customer service.”

Claire traces the silver line indented on her hand, as the plate of remade food makes its appearance once more, ready to be served.

“Thanks, Rupert,” she tosses over her shoulder at the grisly man, Gillian staying behind, waiting for her.

“So are you doing the catering job tonight,” Gillian throws back at her, as Claire comes back to the cutlery station, meticulously folding forks and knives into linen napkins.

“I don’t think so,” she shrugs, blowing her fringe out of her face once more.  An errant curl refusing to submit to her frustration, dangling over her eyes, bouncing with the movement of her head.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Gillian hits Claire’s hip with her side, their heights significantly varied.   A raised brow and a quirk of her mouth suggesting there was no way that this party would be fun in the slightest.

“A bunch of rich, entitled people…” Claire starts, only to be interrupted.

“Eating out of the palms of our hands…literally,” Gillian says with a wink.

“I hope not literally,” Claire teases, sticking out her flat tongue.

“Think of the extra money…and you know, if you happen to meet a rich guy that can give you a good fuck,” she says a bit louder than intended, a customer looking up from their meal.

Claire shoots a knowing glance at her friend.  

Flashing a smile at the appalled woman, Gillian throws her head back.

“I’m gonna pay for that one,” she says with a shake of her head.  “See, now we have to pick it up, because I’m not getting a tip from that prude,” she gestures towards the woman.

“She’s your table, not mine,” Claire says with a smirk.  “I’m going to pass,” she says, putting the linen bundles into their bin.  “I’ve got a new book and I…don’t do actors,” she says with a huff.

“Come on, I’ll drive, it’ll be…”

“If you say, ‘fun’ I’m definitely not doing it,” Claire warns.

“Fine, it’ll be…monetarily beneficial,” she grins.

xxxxx

The flutes of champagne balance precariously on the serving tray Claire carries with her, her hands attempting not to shake enough that she send the gold liquid onto anyone, but as she scans the room of men who think they hold more power than they do, congratulating themselves on being masters of their craft,women lapping up the chance to be in their presence, she can’t help but picture a slip of the hand that’s not so accidental.

Glancing back, she sees the event coordinator motioning for her to smile, and she turns back, her eyes threatening to roll all the way back into her head.

It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re wearing this uniform, you’re invisible, Beauchamp.

The thought echoing a sentiment that had taken root in her for some time, yanking on a thread that could potentially unravel her ever so carefully constructed shield, whose protection she’d shrouded herself in before facing the day, for without it would leave her bare to the thoughts that would surely leave her with nothing but the ugly truth.

Her finger rubs at her hand, her eyes darting around at the extravagant decor of flowers and crystal jewels, only the biggest and best for, whoever this celebration was for.  Another Hollywood party that mattered very little, a host of people begging for the attention that would make a connection, garner them a return for the years of hustle they’d put in.  Exhausting.  The smiles on their faces were likely as fake as the one she now had plastered to her own face, looking more like a grimace than anything close to resembling happiness, as she offered up more alcohol to people that surely didn’t need anymore courage to make bad decisions.

“Whiskey on the rocks, sweetheart,” she hears behind her, turning around to find a balding man with a graying beard and a sinister grin on his face, suggesting he was a man who always got what he wanted, and as his eyes did a slow once over her, catching on the open button of her shirt,  she finds herself wanting to shrink into herself, her hand running over her palm, the bloom of panic tingling, before rising to her full height, which isn’t much shorter than this man, biting her tongue at the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.

“Right away,” she says with a grit of her teeth, quickly turning to head to the bar to grab the request.  Giving the bartender the order, the woman looks as irritated as the rest of them, but throws a knowing grin her way.

“Fucking Americans and their ice,” she mutters under her breath.

“Careful, Sassenach, they might hear ye,” the soft bur of an accent sends a jolt through her, causing her to hit the tray, sending the remaining few glasses of champagne everywhere.  The shattering of glass attracting the attention of the guests only briefly, a stray comment thrown out about clumsy help hitting its target, before they go back to ignoring her.

“Fuck,” she says under her breath.

Turning quickly, she fumbles to pick up the broken glass, a rise of red lighting her cheeks on fire, incensed with anger and frustration.

Reaching for a piece of glass, she sees the tray in question appear before her, an offering to gather the mess she’d created.  Looking up, she sees the man with the voice that had sent her reeling, a mop of curly red hair, looking like it had been attempted to be tamed, but had given up and decided instead to hang in perfect disarray.

“You don’t have to—“ she tries to get out, but he’s already gathered most of the remaining bits of glass onto the tray, peeking at her through his curls she sees a glimpse of blue that seem to pierce her, a flicker of something close to recognition passes through the sea like a wave, gone just as quickly, paired with a grin of understanding bristled in a stubble that begs to prick her finger and break the spell that seems to surround them.

“It’s the least I can do, seeing as it’s my fault,” he shrugs, the grin only growing wider, as he lifts his head, his bent stance has the kilt he’s wearing rucked up to where the muscles in his legs tease her, and she quickly averts her eyes, catching the raise of his eyebrows at having seemingly caught her glance.

“You’re right, it is your fault,” she says, straightening to a stand, and he peers up at her for a second, making her shift nervously from foot to foot before he stands, her eyes catching the glint of a scar contouring his cheekbone in the light.  An imperfection that grounds him in reality.  She moves to push her hair back from her face, having a hard time reconciling what she must look like next to this man.

She hears his gruff laugh, and swears it vibrates through her chest.

“I uhh, didn’t get you, did I?” She asks, her flustered mind only kicking itself at the excuse to roam over the expanse of his chest, slightly soaked, she immediately turns to grab a napkin on the bar, moving to blot his shirt, pressing gently on his chest, only having it dawn on her that she’s touching him when his hand comes to gently grab her wrist.  Her breath momentarily stilted, his fingers warm on her pulse - simultaneously skittering her heart to beat faster while leaving her with a sense of peace, like being held too close to the sun, a tranquil warmth threatening to burst her into flames, she pulls back on reflex, and he lets go, freeing her, instead of keeping hold.

“’Tis alright, Sassenach, a wee bit of spilled alcohol never hurt anyone,” the breath of his words washing over her, and she steps back with the napkin.  Her nose scrunching at the derogatory word he kept using like it was an endearment.  His smile rises at her blowing a stray curl out of her face.  “Especially when it’s champagne, “ he playfully grimaces, clearly not a fan of the bubbly.

“Too true,” she shrugs, turning to grab the whiskey she’d all but forgotten in her haste to completely drown this charming man in her work.  Her usual response to flee begins to rise in her - the calm she’d felt in his presence shifting, as the man whose whiskey she held approached the makeshift stage with a microphone.  “Ugh, here we go,” she rolls her eyes.

“Not a fan?” He asks, looking amused by her clear disdain.

“The only thing worse than actors are the people in charge of them,” she says, before catching the eye of Gillian, a curious smirk on her face, making her way towards Claire.  “Anyway, I hope I didn’t keep you from…whatever it is you’re doing here,” she looks down at his kilt again.  “Are you the entertainment?”

His eyes widen at the suggestion before biting back a laugh.  

“Something like that,” he says with what she swears is a twinkle in his eye.

“And now help me in introducing the reason we’re all here, actor James Fraser…”

The applause of the entire party seems to grow exponentially around her.  Glancing around, she tries to find where the man in question is hiding, until she feels the words whispered in her ear.

“At least I’m not the worst…”

The curly mop of red making his way towards the stage, shirt soaked, kilt  swaying with every step, and a smile that keeps glancing back at her.

Bloody Hell, Beauchamp.

[mikauzoran]

Marichat/Adrienette: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Seven: Lost Cat

Read it on AO3: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Seven: Lost Cat

The bell signaling the start of the break rings, and Nino turns in his seat. “Would you lovely ladies be interested in joining the two of us for lunch?”

Adrien tries not to look too hopeful so as to avoid appearing visibly crushed should the girls say no.

“Thanks, Nino, but I have to talk to Alya,” Marinette declines.

“You could talk to Alya while we all get lunch together,” Nino suggests, doing his best for Adrien’s sake.

Marinette sighs with a pained smile. “I have to talk to Alya about him.” She indicates Adrien.

The boy in question’s eyebrows rise.

“Don’t look so innocent, Agreste,” Marinette teases with a wink that flips his stomach. “You know what you did.”

Adrien grins, turning so that he’s kneeling in his seat and pillowing his arms on her desk. “At this point, I’ve done so many things this past week that I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this about my shower gel?”

Marinette rolls her eyes, giving Adrien’s nose a flick.

He practically purrs at the attention.

Marinette smiles with an odd sense of satisfaction and clarifies, “I’m talking about how you and your boyfriend seem to delight in turning my world upside-down lately.”

“Oh, is he my boyfriend now?” Adrien hums. “I don’t think he’s interested in me like that.”

Nino turns to Alya and whispers, “What the hell is going on?”

“Babe, I was hoping you could tell me.” She rubs her chin in wonder as she stares at the spectacle.

“They appear to be talking to each other…fairly normally,” Nino observes as Marinette swipes halfheartedly at Adrien for something he’s said and Adrien cackles in glee.

“I like this,” Adrien trills joyfully. “It kills me that I’ve been missing out on this side of you for years. What changed?”

Marinette shrugs, averting her gaze in hopes that her blush won’t show as much at an angle.

“You broke my heart, and I fell out of love with the person I thought you were, and now I’m falling in love with someone else…even while I discover how precious the real you is.”

“You’re less intimidating now that I know what a dorky loser you are,” she replies in a deadpan instead.

“Me-ouch,” Adrien chuckles, still smiling brilliantly in adoration.

Nino winces on his friend’s behalf: Adrien is irreconcilably smitten. His crush is as obvious as Paris all lit up at night as seen from an airplane.

“Don’t start with the cat puns,” Marinette warns, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“But they’re a-mew-sing,” he pouts, blatantly ignoring her injunction.

She groans. “No. They’re pawful.”

“Would now be an inappropriate time for me to propose to you?” Adrien wonders.

Nino starts in earnest to mentally compile the list of everything he’s going to have to do to help Adrien recover from Marinette breaking his heart. It’s going to be a long and arduous process, especially if Adrien is only one week in and already making wedding plans. Nino can tell from the tone in his friend’s voice that Adrien is only half joking about the proposal.

“Minou,” Marinette sighs in pity. “I’m going to hit you.”

“I’ve decided I like that,” Adrien snickers, hoping she’ll flick his nose or tap his bell again.

“Of course you do, you dork.” Marinette can’t help but laugh through her exasperation.

Adrien gets a flick on the forehead for his trouble.

“Since when is he ‘Minou’?” Alya breaks in, unable to silently watch her two friends (who have obviously been replaced by aliens) any longer.

Marinette shrugs. “Since this morning. I mean, look at him.”

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“He looks just like Chat Noir,” Marinette explains.

Alya frowns harder. “Not really. I mean, I guess the color scheme…and the hair looks kind of like Chat Noir’s, but the bell is really the only thing that screams Chat Noir.”

Marinette shakes her head. “Trust me. He looks exactly like Chat Noir.”

Alya shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. “Girl, he really doesn’t.”

Marinette blows out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. I need to talk to you. Let’s go. Bye, Boys.”

Marinette gathers her things and, with a quick scratch behind Adrien’s ear, she and Alya are off.

Adrien turns into a boneless puddle in her wake.

Nino lets out a guttural curse.

Adrien inclines a mildly inquisitive eyebrow but really can’t be bothered to do much else. “Problem?”

“You are my problem,” Nino groans.

“How so?” Adrien hums, the places Marinette touched still tingling.

“She’s going to pulverize you,” Nino informs. “I tell you this because I love you and I don’t want to see you a broken mess on the floor: stop. More than half the population of the planet is female. Pick a different one.”

“Don’t want to,” Adrien decides.

“Then you will suffer,” Nino warns. “I’m not sugar-coating this for you.”

“I think I like it when pretty girls unintentionally cause me to suffer,” Adrien chuckles. “I could definitely go for more nose flicks and her trash-talking me. Is it weird that I like it when she tells me what a loser I am?”

Nino groans again, removing his hat so that it doesn’t get in the way of him banging his head on the desk.

“…Thanks for trying to get the girls to have lunch with us despite it being against your better judgment to let me nurse a crush on Marinette,” Adrien chuckles, giving his best friend a playful elbow.

“You’re welcome,” Nino mutters, resigning himself to the never-ending nonsense and drama that is his life.

 Marinette performs a dramatic re-enactment of that morning’s trip to the principal’s office and its aftermath for Alya.

“Woooow,” Alya guffaws. “So you guys literally stood there hugging for, like, what? Fifteen? Twenty minutes?”

Marinette’s shoulders bunch up to her ears. “I don’t know how long we were standing there talking. It was…I don’t even know what’s happening. I thought I was getting over him, and there was Chat, and I was moving on, but now he obviously likes me—like, really obviously, really likes me—and…I may have fallen in love with him all over again?” She smiles sheepishly up at Alya.

“Oh, Girl,” Alya sighs, returning the smile with begrudging affection. “Here we go again.”

Marinette shakes her head. “It’s different this time. No more idolizing. I’m in love with a ridiculous, sweet, painfully damaged guy…two of them.”

Alya nods. “Threesome?” She waggles her eyebrows.

Marinette smacks her arm. “Stop putting images in my head.”

Alya grins impishly. “Marinette, the idea of a threesome with Chat and Adrien was already in your head. I had nothing to do with it.”

Marinette sticks out her tongue. “I’m picking Chat…probably.” She grimaces. “I don’t know. I’m all mixed up. I said I wouldn’t be making decisions about dating anyone for a month or two, but…I feel like if I do decide to date anyone, it has to be Chat.”

“Has to?” Alya hums, displeased with the wording. “Shouldn’t you be waiting two months and then making that decision? I find that, with love, there are no ‘have to’s or ‘should’s. There’s only what there is. I’m thinking we don’t have to worry and freak out so much because your heart will decide…like a Disney movie or something. If you give it time, anyway.”

Marinette takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out. She nods. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s…let’s do that. No freaking out or getting myself worked up over things I can’t control. I’m just going to stick to the plan and be friends with the both of them and end up with whomever I end up with…right?”

“Right!” Alya cheers, giving her a big slap on the back of encouragement. “It’ll all work itself out.”

“Right,” Marinette chuckles, feeling oddly better. She tears off a little piece of bread for Tikki and surreptitiously opens up her purse to sneak it in…but then freezes when she notices she’s somehow picked up an extra kwami.

“Gack!” she screams, jumping to her feet.

Alya, accustomed to this behavior, merely raises an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“I-I-I forgot something!” Marinette shrieks, looking down in horror at Plagg. “I’m sorry. I have to go, Alya. See you in class?”

Alya laughs fondly, wondering what it could be this time. “See you, Girl.”

 “Hey, Princess,” Adrien answers Chat’s phone in what he hopes is a collected, non-panicked manner. “Sorry. I would love to talk with you, but now really isn’t the best time. Could I please call you back later? I’m dealing with a bit of a situation.”

“He’s with me,” Marinette gets out before he can hang up on her.

Adrien is silent for a moment as he processes her meaning. “Oh, thank God,” he hisses, doubling over to rest the hand not currently holding the phone on his knee. “You have no idea how freaked I’ve been.”

Marinette feels like she has some idea.

“Please tell him I’m going to kill him—No. Better yet, please tell him he’s eating nothing but cheddar for the next month.”

“Did you hear that, Plagg?” Marinette whispers down to the non-resident kwami in her purse.

“Idle threats,” Plagg snorts. “Nathalie just restocked the minifridge with Camembert, and I can easily phase through, even if he locks it.”

“Plagg, I think it’s time to go back to Chat now,” Marinette coaxes.

“Tell him to come get me,” Plagg demands through a devilish smirk.

“Plagg, he can’t without revealing his identity,” she scolds with a click of her tongue. “You know that.”

“He should have thought of that before he yelled at me,” Plagg simpers, crossing his stubby arms and turning up his nose. “He doesn’t treat me right.”

“Don’t you dare try to garner sympathy from her, Plagg,” Adrien growls over the phone. “Marinette, don’t pay any attention to him.”

“What did he yell at you for?” Marinette can’t help but bite.

“Princess,” Adrien groans.

Plagg makes big, sad kitten eyes at her. “My comic,” he mews. “He yelled at me for my comic and threatened me and threw things at me!”

“Lies,” Adrien hisses. “I haven’t even yelled at you for that yet!”

“Even though I was just expressing myself artistically.” Plagg keeps going despite Adrien’s protests. “Surely you, Princess, as a fellow artist, can understand.” Plagg makes a show of producing the biggest, most crocodile-ly of tears. “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong. Besides, it was Adrien’s fault.”

“A-Adrien?” Marinette chokes.

“Plagg,” Adrien growls in warning.

“Adrien reads a lot of Japanese comics, and in one of them, Otomen, a mangaka—that’s what they call the author—made a manga out of his friends’ romance, and everyone really enjoyed it. That’s where I got the idea to make a Princess Noir comic,” Plagg explains in half-truths.

“Plagg, this is your last chance,” Adrien cautions. “Please come back.”

“No.” Plagg tosses his head petulantly.

Adrien bites his lip as he sighs heavily. “Okay. Fine. I’m sorry. We’ll talk about this later. Please come back.”

“No,” Plagg chuckles mischievously.

“…Princess? Where are you?”

“The gym class locker room. It was the only place I could think of that’d be empty for sure during lunch,” Marinette volunteers.

“Okay,” Adrien mutters. “Thanks. Stay there.”

He rings off, leaving her with an unrepentant kwami.

Tikki quickly takes care of her counterpart’s smug demeanor with a solid whap. “Plagg! I can’t believe you’re acting like this! Go back to your chosen now! What if there’s an akuma attack? What if something happens to your chosen? Marinette, Plagg is not as innocent as he’s pretending to be. I know his chosen, and Chat Noir is a good boy. They may have had a fight, but I doubt that Chat Noir acted out of line or cruelly towards Plagg. Let’s not forget that Plagg started all this when he posted that comic online—Plagg, you absolutely knew better.”

Plagg shrugs and comes out of Marinette’s purse holding a little square sticky-note about as big as himself. “Settle down, Sucrette. You’re blowing this completely out of proportion.”

“Don’t call me that.” Tikki simmers quietly in her rage, unable to believe how careless her partner is being this time.

“You love your nickname,” Plagg snickers.

“I hate you right now,” Tikki counters. “You’re shirking your responsibilities. Chat Noir relies on you, and you’re letting him down.”

“The kid is fine. I’d go back if there were any trouble,” Plagg assures. “You’re being too uptight as always, Sucrette.”

“At least one of us has to take things seriously,” Tikki pouts, grabbing a cookie from her stash and chomping into it savagely.

Marinette bites back a comment about stress eating.

“Relax,” Plagg urges, doing a little lap midair around Tikki, still in Marinette’s purse. “I just had to get away for a while. The kid’s been driving me nuts the past week with all his whining about his feelings, so I came to spend some quality time with you and to give the princess a little peace offering.”

“Oh?” Marinette hums, rejoining the conversation. “What would that be, Plagg?”

Plagg clears his throat and floats up to eye level. “To thank you for taking such good care of my kid on top of all the pastries and the delicious chocolate-covered cheese, I present you with a Plagg original sketch. I expect you to put it up in your room where people can see it.”

He holds out the sticky-note.

Marinette frowns, taking the piece of paper, but her eyes fly wide when she sees the drawing.

It’s a sketch of Adrien and Chat Noir—both shirtless.

Adrien takes up the left half of the composition with his back to the observer, offering a lovely view of his athletically slim form. He gazes over his shoulder at the viewer, a decided smolder in his eyes even as his body is angled into Chat’s, his head inclining towards Chat, his left hand resting comfortably on Chat’s hip.

Chat is on the right side of the picture, facing the viewer. He too is athletically trim (partially obscured by Adrien), but, like Adrien, his lithe musculature is obviously apparent. He’s wearing the mask and cat ears along with a leather collar with a bell, much like the one Adrien is actually wearing today. He smirks at the camera, flirtation emanating from his eyes. One leg is placed strategically between Adrien’s while his left hand is situated possessively on Adrien’s hip.

Between their bodies, their right hands are clasped, fingers intertwined. Chat’s black Miraculous creates a bit of a yin-yang effect with Adrien’s silver ring.

Everything about the sketch is suggestive while remaining entirely innocent. Still, Marinette looks in their eyes, and she finds an explicit invitation: “We were just about to play this really fun game. Why don’t you come join us?”

Marinette gulps. “T-Thank you, Plagg. This is…uh…—wow—…really…”

“Sultry,” Plagg supplies with a victorious smirk. “I know. I figured you’d like it. For your information, I mainly specialize in female nudes, but I can do male nudes too, if you ask nicely.”

Marinette lets out an involuntary squeak.

“I could draw them kissing,” Plagg volunteers with an evil sneer.

“Plagg!” Tikki reprimands. “Do not break my chosen!”

“I’m not breaking her,” Plagg snickers. “I’m helping. She’s going to be mating with them in give or take six months. They’re not going to get much done if she blows a fuse every time she sees them naked. I’m helping her get used to it so their mating sessions can be more productive.”

Marinette makes a garbled noise as she chokes on her own saliva.

“Marinette is not mating with anyone until she is married!” Tikki growls, coming out of the purse to give Plagg a shove.

“Sucrette,” Plagg sighs. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s not always the way it works nowadays. Now, your girl is driving my kitten insane. Literally insane. If they—”

“—Excuse you?!” Tikki snorts, shoving Plagg again. “Your kitten is putting my girl through the emotional wringer with his whiplash feelings. Let him go a little insane.”

“You don’t have to deal with him and his melodrama,” Plagg protests. “Switch with me for a while. I’ll take her and her parents’ bakery for a bit, and you can go live at the mansion and give my kitten relationship advice because he needs a metric ton of it, and we both know that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing when it comes to all this romance and feelings junk.”

“Clearly!” Tikki shrieks. “I think I know better than anyone how bad you are at romance!”

“Sucrette, you wound me,” Plagg pouts.

“Good!” Tikki gives Plagg one more shove for good measure. “And I’d be happy to give your kitten relationship advice, but I don’t think you’d be able to handle Marinette’s freak outs any better than you manage his ‘melodrama’, as you call it. I wouldn’t trust you to guide her in my absence.”

“Mortally wound me,” Plagg reiterates, feigning a swoon.

Tikki’s antennae go rigid. “Shh. Someone’s coming.” Tikki grabs Plagg and the sketch out of Marinette’s hand and retreats to the safety of Marinette’s purse.

The locker room door opens hesitantly, and Marinette whips her head around to see what she expects to be Chat Noir unmasked. “M-Minou?” she calls breathlessly, heart fluttering like a bee’s wing.

The door clicks shut, and Adrien freezes, cheeks turning rosy as her eyes come to rest upon him. “Um…not exactly? Not at the moment. I mean…” He chews on his lip, hand going up to run through his hair but stopping at his neck when he remembers the hair gel. “Not the Minou you were expecting. I…” He clears his throat. “Marinette, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen this way, but—”

“—Oh,” Marinette chuckles airily, brushing her bang back behind her ear. “Adrien, it’s you.” She smiles, her nerves melting.

Adrien’s heart trembles. It’s him. Yes. Yes, it’s him, and she’s smiling, and this is going so much better than he anticipated. It’s him, and she looks happy that it’s him, relieved that it’s him, accepting of the fact that it really, truly is him behind the mask. He’s going to marry this girl.

“That was smart,” Marinette continues, completely throwing him for a loop.

Adrien’s brow knits into a frown, but his mouth keeps smiling dumbly. “What was?”

“Him sending you,” Marinette answers, adopting a similar expression of a half-confused half smile. “He did send you, didn’t he? Chat sent you?” she clarifies.

There’s an internal implosion localized within Adrien’s chest as his lungs collapse in on themselves and his heart gives up and drops down to go visit his stomach and liver.

Ever the consummate actor, Adrien smiles and laughs. “Right.” He unhurriedly makes his way over to where she sits on one of the benches and stands in front of her, back to the lockers. “Chat couldn’t come himself without revealing his identity, so here I am,” he emphasizes, contemplating a fit.

Would it be completely unseemly for Adrien Agreste to break down and have an honest to goodness fit? He feels like one might be called for.

“She’s not ready,” he tells himself. “She’s not ready. She’s just not ready yet. This is fine. Stick to the plan. Be Chat when you’re Adrien and Adrien when you’re Chat, and she will eventually see you. She’ll see you…and then dump you both.”

“Plagg?” Marinette calls down into her purse, completely oblivious to Adrien’s internal struggle. “Adrien is here for you. Ready to go back to Chat?”

Plagg floats sulkily up out of the bag and goes over to give the underside of Adrien’s jaw an affectionate nuzzle. “Sorry, Kid.”

Adrien’s eyes blow wide in shock at the completely out of character gesture. “Uh…Thanks, Plagg. It’s…It’s okay,” he stammers, not sure what exactly Plagg is trying to make up to him.

Was this an attempt by Plagg to reveal Adrien’s secret identity to Marinette to get the relationship rolling? Does Plagg feel sorry for Adrien now that that scheme has failed miserably? Is Plagg just sorry for running off and nearly causing Adrien to have a full-blown panic attack? Is this for being a jerk and refusing to come back when they’d been talking over the phone?

Adrien isn’t sure what to make of it, but he has a part to play at the moment, and he can talk to Plagg about this later.

“I don’t mind coming to get you, but you should apologize to Chat Noir. He’s seriously been freaking out since he discovered you were missing,” Adrien scolds lightly, putting himself as Adrien at a bit of a remove from his annoyance as Chat Noir.

Plagg gives an apathetic shrug. “Meh. I’ve been gone since homeroom. He’s been fine.”

“What do you mean ‘meh’?” Adrien frowns as Plagg goes back to nestle on Marinette’s shoulder. “What if there had been an akuma attack? You don’t know when those are going to happen, Plagg. It’s not something you can predict. What if Chat needed you?”

Plagg shrugs again. “It wasn’t like I was far away. I would have made it back in time.”

Adrien’s fingers twitch. He crosses his arms, letting them grip his biceps as he leans back against the lockers. “What if you didn’t?”

“I would have,” Plagg assures.

“Le Marchand de Sable,” Adrien reminds accusingly.

Marinette can feel the kwami on her shoulder shudder.

“Plagg, have you ever been trapped in a tiny cage so small and restrictive you can’t move, feeling alone and powerless, unable to escape, calling for help and having no one answer?” Adrien presses, seeing Plagg flinch.

Adrien had been claustrophobic for several months after that particular akuma.

“If you want to wander off, fine, but you need to say something first,” Adrien relents marginally, almost done with the guilt trip. “Chat relies on you…please don’t let him down, okay?”

Plagg looks away and mumbles into the crook of Marinette’s neck. “Tikki said the same thing.”

Adrien cocks an eyebrow. “When did you run into Tikki?”

Marinette’s eyes go wide as she realizes that Adrien Agreste not only is familiar enough with Plagg to admonish him but also knows who Tikki is without even having to think about it.

“Between leaving Chat and arriving in Marinette’s purse,” Plagg semi-fibs. “…Tikki said she hates me.”

Adrien winces, reaching into his mother’s leather jacket pocket for a piece of Camembert inside a plastic baggie. He holds it out to the sulking kwami. “Sorry, Plagg. That’s really rough.”

Plagg is immediately at Adrien’s side, taking a massive chunk out of the cheese.

“She’ll take you back, though,” he tries to assure his friend. “Doesn’t she always? You two have been together for thousands of years now, and it’s never stuck when she’s dumped you before, right?”

Plagg hums thoughtfully through a mouthful of Camembert that he’s actually chewing.

“Maybe tomorrow we can stop by Marinette’s parents’ bakery before school, and you can pick up a couple…what is it she likes? Macarons? Madeleines?” Adrien suggests, rendering Marinette even more speechless than before.

Adrien Agreste keeps cheese to feed Plagg and knows that Tikki has a sweet tooth.

“Cookies are her favourites,” Plagg replies before chucking the remainder of the cheese into his mouth. “But she gets those a lot. Maybe macarons would be a good idea. What does the princess think?” Plagg turns to address Marinette, looping her back into the conversation.

“Uh…macarons would probably be a good idea. Um…maybe the dark chocolate merlot or the pink champagne?”

Tikki had enjoyed both of those flavors when Tom and Sabine made samples for Marinette to try.

“Um…” Marinette bites her lip. “Adrien…”

“Hm?” His eyes are immediately on her; she has his full attention.

“…You seem to know a lot about kwamis, and you and Plagg seem pretty close.” She has to stop to clear her throat. “How long have you known about Chat Noir? I got the impression before that it was a recent discovery, but… Well, I mean, I also got the impression that you two didn’t know each other, but obviously that’s not true, so…” Her bottom lip continues to suffer abuse at the hands of her teeth.

Adrien grins sheepishly. “Uh… Well…since the very beginning?”

She goes owl-eyed. “He told you? At the very beginning?”

Adrien shakes his head. “He didn’t tell me. I was the one who opened the box. Uh. The Miraculous come in little hexagonal boxes…at least Chat’s did. I was the one who opened it, so I’ve known Plagg as long as Chat.”

Marinette nods slowly.

The thoughts cross her mind: Then why aren’t you Chat Noir? Do you resent the fact that Chat was chosen and not you? That he has an escape and you don’t?

“That’s…a long time to keep a secret,” she mutters numbly as she attempts to take it all in. “Clearly you’re very trustworthy.”

Adrien pointedly looks away, trying not to let duplicity show on his face. She wouldn’t trust him if she knew the truth. Yes, he’s told her that Chat and Adrien are the same, but with her not believing him, his interactions with her as Adrien feel underhanded. And that’s not even getting into his father’s secret. Adrien does not consider himself trustworthy, and he fears both Marinette and Ladybug will lose faith in him when it all comes out…when he finally has to tell them.

“Not really. Not through any effort on my part,” Adrien mutters to the floor.

“He’s selling himself short,” Plagg snorts, flying over to nuzzle Adrien once more. “He’s affectionate and loyal, and just look at him. Aesthetically speaking, he’s a perfect human male specimen.”

“Plagg, I’m not a used car,” Adrien grumbles. “You don’t have to market me.”

“I’m trying to explain to her why she should mate with you,” Plagg hisses. “You’re too embarrassed to do yourself justice, so someone has to pick up the slack.”

“Plagg!” Adrien squeaks indignantly.

Plagg turns back to Marinette. “He has excellent genetic material and would be a loving, protective mate. You should pounce now while you have the chance before someone else snatches him up. Don’t you want to have children as beautiful as he is?”

“Plagg, you’re forgetting to tell her about the fine print: everyone in my family is physically superb but mentally ill,” Adrien snaps, keeping his gaze anywhere but on Marinette. “She wouldn’t be interested in me, so lay off. You’re just making everyone uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind,” Marinette gently assures.

His head jerks up, and he stares at her in hopeful confusion.

“Plagg obviously cares about you, and so he wants you to find someone to love you. He gave me a similar sales pitch about Chat,” she chuckles, blushing lightly at the memory. “Apparently Plagg thinks I’m good mate material if he wants me to be the one caring for both you and Chat. It’s probably because of the bakery, honestly. I don’t mind Plagg trying to play matchmaker, so don’t worry about it.”

Adrien fidgets, wanting to ask so many questions.

Marinette speaks again before he can formulate any of them. “And…as your friend, Adrien…don’t think you’re unlovable because of your family situation or mental health. There’s more to you than that, and one day you’re going to find a girl who can see past all that and love you for what matters.”

He tries not to crumple at the implication that he has not yet found this girl, that it will not be Marinette.

“Like…how I still care for Chat,” she adds with a rosy blush that brings back the sun.

He feels like the breath has been knocked out of him. Half a minute passes before he’s able to get out an emotion-filled, “T-Thank you.”

She smiles brightly, all sunflower fields.

“See?” Plagg teases, rubbing up against Adrien’s cheek in a continuation of his unprecedented show of affection. “Aren’t you glad I said something now? She said she’d be capable of loving you, despite your perceived issues, if she weren’t already involved with Chat. Isn’t that nice?”

“Plagg,” Adrien groans as he attempts to keep his blush under control. He knows he’s failing.

“Kitten,” Plagg returns the groan, laughing as he continues to rub like a real cat.

Marinette can’t hold back a chuckle of her own. “You two are so cute together. It’s adorable how fond of you he is, Adrien.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Adrien cautions. “He’s not like this all the time. Most of the time he’s a caustic little jerk. He’s just putting on a show to shore up sympathy for the next time he needs something.”

“I can’t believe that.” Marinette shakes her head. “He obviously loves you, Adrien.”

Adrien clicks his tongue. “Yes, but this display of affection is just a ploy. Have you ever heard that pets start to resemble their masters? Well, I get my manipulative, selfish tendencies from him.”

Plagg scoffs outright. “In the words of Nino, ‘I call bull’. You inherited those tendencies from your father.”

“And you made them worse,” Adrien insists. “My father is never around. You are the one I’m constantly exposed to. My personality flaws are clearly the result of your bad influence.”

“Wow. Avoiding personal responsibility much?” Plagg chuckles, half amused.

Marinette lets herself laugh at the antics. “Like I said before, you two are adorable.”

“She thinks you’re adorable,” Plagg snickers, elbowing Adrien. “He thinks you’re adorable too, Princess.”

Plagg smirks triumphantly as both teens blush.

“Princess, show the kitten the sketch I did for you,” Plagg prompts, quietly chortling.

Marinette’s blush darkens.

Adrien grimaces. “Plagg,” he admonishes. “Have you been harassing Marinette this whole time you’ve been gone?”

“No.” Plagg phases through Marinette’s purse to grab the drawing. “I just made her a sketch.” He holds it up for inspection.

Adrien’s face goes parchment white and then sealing wax red. “Plagg. We’re going to have to talk about sexual harassment since both of us clearly struggle with the concept.”

Plagg takes the sketch back and deposits it with Tikki (who firmly intends to hang it next to Marinette’s computer monitor).

“It’s no different than the sketch of Princess I did for you,” Plagg protests before turning to grin at Marinette. “You’re lying on a chaise, à la fiery temptress.”

Now it’s Marinette’s turn to pale.

“It’s not like that! You’re wearing clothes!” Adrien assures, waving his hands frantically. “It’s nothing lewd…. Not any more lewd than the sketch he did for you, anyway.” He looks away, hoping the angle will help to dim his blush. “You’re wearing your Odile dress.”

Marinette sits up a little straighter. “You…know about my Odile dress? Chat told you?”

Adrien nods. “It’s gorgeous. You’re super talented, Marinette…. I’d love to see you wearing it.”

Marinette smiles shyly, nervously fiddling with her fingers in her lap. “I’d need an occasion to wear it first.”

“How about dinner?” he suggests before he can lose his nerve.

She blinks. “…With…you?”

“And my father and Nathalie,” he hastily adds. “My father actually told me to extend a dinner invitation to you because he’d like to meet you. Well, I mean, I know he’s met you before, and he knows he’s met you. Just… He’s impressed by your work, and he’d like to sit down and talk with you at length. If that’s okay. You don’t have to. I can appreciate that it might feel awkward to go out to dinner at an expensive restaurant with me and my family, knowing that I like you and after all the craziness between us this past week and with Chat Noir and your crush rejecting you on top of everything and—”

Marinette gets up and walks over to place delicate fingers gently over Adrien’s lips. “Stop. You’re doing the nervous rambling thing again.” She smiles, lips and eyes full of kindness.

He knows his own eyes must be full of longing. He’s waited so long for someone to love him. He’s spent the past four years burning with want and need in vain. He longs for it all to work out this time.

“Maybe,” Marinette responds after a minute or so of thought. “As you know, your father is one of my idols, and I would be ecstatic to get the chance to talk with him, but I don’t want to do this if it will get your hopes up and end up hurting you. This would not be a date. This would not be you introducing me to your parents. Would that cause problems for you?”

He absolutely knows it would. The entire time he would be fantasizing about future family dinners with the three kids and the Shiba Inu and Plagg in tow.

“Not at all,” he lies to her face, hoping his expression doesn’t give him away.

She purses her lips and studies him. With a sigh and a nod, she removes her fingers from his lips and pulls away. “Okay. Maybe in a couple weeks once things settle down a little?”

“I’ll have Nathalie check my father’s schedule and let you know.”

Marinette nods her approval. “Okay.”

It takes her a minute to realize how close they are. She essentially has Adrien Agreste backed up against the lockers. Oh, if the Marinette of two weeks ago could only see her, she would absolutely die.

Marinette smiles at the thought.

Adrien takes an audible breath. Clearly, he’s watching her intently, very aware of the space or lack thereof between them and the way she smells and the way her mouth quirks subtlety into a smile.

“Sorry,” Marinette whispers, starting to step back. “I—”

“—No. It’s…” His hand flies out to rest on her elbow, gently gripping her arm. It’s enough to keep her from fleeing but not enough to restrain her if she chooses to pull away. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m the one making everything weird. I shouldn’t have just…”

So many, many things.

“…come out and told you I liked you and everything this morning out of the blue like that. I’m sorry. The only other girl I’ve told that I liked her thought I was joking for months and then ended up turning me down, so I’m not very good at this whole…courting thing, I guess. I’m sorry that I’m making you uncomfortable,” he offers hesitantly like a kicked dog slinking back to their abuser, afraid to be hurt again.

The sheer honesty and vulnerability in Adrien’s voice cracks right through Marinette’s defences.

“Oh, Minou,” she sighs, reaching out to gently scratch behind his ear. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re serious. I’m…really flattered, and I…”

She can’t tell him she likes him too. She can’t raise his hopes. She canNOT be with this boy. Not only does she not know him well enough, she’s also got Chat to think about.

If someone had told Marinette two weeks ago that she would be turning down Adrien Agreste (for Chat Noir of all people), she would have lost it. But this week, it makes perfect sense.

“I’m sorry. I’ve decided that I’m not making any decisions about my love life for now, but I’m afraid that in two months I’m not going to be telling you that I can return your feelings, and I don’t want to string you along that whole time. I will be your friend, Adrien, but I want to be clear that this is probably only ever going to be platonic. Don’t waste too much time or energy on me, okay? I don’t want to hurt you like that other girl,” she summarizes, feeling miserable.

She just can’t be with Adrien. Chat is enough to deal with right now, and she owes it to Adrien to be honest about that.

“I have two months to spare.” Adrien shrugs with a broad grin. “If you say no then, I’ll give up, but is it okay if I keep liking you until then? I’ll try not to let my feelings get in the way of our friendship,” he barters.

Marinette sighs, letting her hand drop and stepping back. “Oh, Adrien. What would you do if I said no?”

He smiles sheepishly.

“It’s not like you can control how you feel anyway, so I guess it’s pointless me telling you what you should or shouldn’t do.” With a shake of her head, she crosses her arms and looks at him.

He’s so handsome…and sweet and talented and just in need of someone to love him like he deserves.

The thought briefly occurs to her: Could I love them both? Would that be okay? Would they mind? Is that selfish of me?

She blushes when she realizes how she’s looking at him. The blush deepens when it dawns on her that he’s noticed the way she’s looking at him too.

So much for not giving him false hope.

Adrien grins cheekily, enjoying the attention.

Marinette groans. “Okay. Yeah. I wasn’t going to say it because I didn’t want to lead you on, but I’ve always been painfully obvious like this. It’s your own fault you never noticed before because I’ve been wearing a neon sign for a long time saying that I like you. I like you,” she repeats petulantly. “I like you, but I can’t date you right now, so stop, okay?”

His grin falters and slowly morphs into a contrite smile. “Okay,” he relents. “Sorry.”

“Me too.” She reaches up and pulls her hair down from its chignon so that she can run her hands through it and pull on it in her frustration.

She turns away and begins to walk towards the door.

He watches her go, heart sinking, but then she stops and faces him once more.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything, you know?” she quietly confesses. “I feel like I have whiplash. The only thing I’m really sure of right now is that I definitely want you and Chat in my life as friends. Adrien, can we work on figuring out how to be friends irrespective of our romantic interest in each other?”

He nods, face brightening as he goes to her side, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like trying to hold her hand as they walk together.

“I’d like to try. It’s bothered me for a while that Nino and Alya are both so close to you while it feels like I’m always on the outside. It kind of hurt that you were always so intimidated by me,” he admits, figuring that the best thing he can do is be completely honest with her.

She winces. “I’m really, really sorry about that. I…didn’t see the real you.”

“But you see me now?” he wonders.

“A little. Better than before, at least,” she mumbles, still ashamed of her four-year stretch of idol worship. “Talking to Chat has helped. Talking with you today has helped. I think we’ve talked more today than the rest of the time we’ve known each other put together.”

“That’s…sad,” he decides. “But I’m glad that we’ve finally made a breakthrough. I’m glad I don’t intimidate you anymore.”

She hangs her head and sighs. “Who would have thought that it would only take a world-shattering apocalypse and the week from hell for me to be able to speak in complete sentences with Adrien Agreste?”

“Yeah. That seems a little extreme,” Adrien agrees. “I’m sorry it had to come to that.”

“Well, I was under the impression that you were a god in human form come down to bless all mortals with the opportunity to observe your beauty.” She quickens her pace to avoid having to look at him.

He’s quiet for a minute, and when she does glance back at him, his face reveals how much her words have stunned him. “R-Really?” he chokes.

“Pretty much,” she sulks. “…I think I like you better, or at least more genuinely, now that I know you’re a complete dork, though.”

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously. “Good…. Because those are some ridiculous expectations to hold someone to. I’d only end up disappointing you…. A lot of people are disappointed by the real me.”

She stops and looks him in the eye. “Are you disappointed in yourself?”

He really has to think about it. He decides that the honest answer is, “Sometimes. There are things I want to change, but I think, in general, at my core, I’m pretty all right. I think it’s a matter of conquering my weaknesses and living up to my potential.”

Her entire face blossoms into warmth and approval and pride, and he knows he’s gotten the answer right.

He returns her smile, giving himself a mental head pat.

She claps him on the back and nods. “Yeah. I think you’re pretty all right in general too. Focus on not disappointing yourself, and screw everyone else’s opinion.”

He nods, biting his lip to keep from saying aloud something to the effect of never wanting to disappoint her as either Chat or Adrien.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Labor of Love Chapter 4: A Critical Role Fanfic

Let me just say this, this pandemic has really been messing with my productivity. But in weird ways, like, some days I got through 1000 words, the next day I would barely write three sentences. Crazy times. This chapter...we got romantic progression. Which is exciting because that means next chapter will be dedicated to panicking. I love panicking. 

As always, thank you everyone for the mountain of support I have received on this fic. Really, reading the comments and the reblog tags and everything is what kept me going. 

Enjoy!

Read on Tumblr (CH 1, CH2, and CH 3)

Read on AO3

Preview:

Elves didn’t need to sleep as other species did, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t. Essek actively avoided sleep, mostly because he didn’t enjoy dreaming. He didn’t know how people did it every night, go under and then have your brain spew out images and sequences that didn’t make any rational sense. Essek liked everything organized, separated out, and delineated neatly with understandable criteria. Having a strange dream where he was being crushed under some warm weight definitely was not any of those things, and Essek didn’t appreciate it one bit... 

...and then Essek tried to take a breath and he realized he wasn’t dreaming rather immediately. He woke up with a panicked start. Frumpkin, Caleb’s cat who took up residence in the bakery, was laying on his chest and had a paw on Essek’s mouth. He was batting at him like he had expected Essek to be dead, and when Essek awoke the cat blinked at him with wide luminous yellow eyes. He was an adorable mongrel, fluffy and orange...and large. He was at least ten pounds if not heavier and had taken residence on his body like he was the couch Essek was laying on. 

“As cute as you are...I cannot allow you to kill me,” Essek informed the cat. “I’m sorry if I took your spot though.”

“Mrrp?” Frumpkin asked cutely, tufted ears flicking to the front. 

“I know, I’m confused too,” Essek said as he managed to sit up. The cat offered no resistance and slid into his lap, only meowed plaintively at Essek’s movement and the loss of his comfy spot. Maybe it was because the cat looked so sad, or maybe he really was just losing his edge, but when he stood up he scooped the cat in his arms. He gave the cat a quick bounce, like he had seen mothers do for babies. For a moment, again, Essek swore his eyes flashed blue but it was probably the light. The cat cocked his head at Essek like he didn’t understand what he was doing...and to be fair Essek didn’t either. Essek carefully settled the cat down, earning a final meow before the cat trotted off.

The house itself was quiet and dark, the clock on the kitchen wall read 3:00 AM. He must have fallen asleep on the couch...how utterly embarrassing. Essek had to decide what he could do then...would he sneak out without a word or should he leave a note of some kind. He didn’t want the Mighty Nein to think him unappreciative...but he also wanted nothing more than to go home, bury his head in his own sheets, and let the heat in his cheeks fade until he was his usual cold, icy shell of a person. 

A note would do, Essek thought. He would leave them a note, thanking them for their hospitality but saying how he had needed to get home-

His plans were immediately dashed by Caleb appearing in the kitchen. He was dressed in his uniform, the plan shirt and jeans. But his hair was bed-mussed, and he looked half-asleep on his feet. 

“You should still be sleeping,” Caleb noted with a frown. “It’s much too early for you to be up.” 

“Drow,” Essek said, pointing at himself. “I only need four hours to trance...about the same or less sleep when that happens. And you are certainly one to talk, you are a human. Aren’t humans supposed to sleep eight hours?” 

“Baker’s hours,” Caleb explained, rubbing at his face before literally running into the wall. “Sheisse! I gotta be at the bakery for four...didn’t get to sleep until twelve...” 

“Please, before you hurt yourself,” Essek motioning towards the stool by the kitchen island. “I’ll make some coffee for you.” 

Caleb blinked owlishly at Essek, as if now just truly registering his existence for the first time. To be fair, this did all feel like a dream. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I am not good at much in the kitchen, but I do pride myself on making a decent cup of coffee,” Essek promised him. “It at least keeps me alive and functional. Now, if you don’t mind?” 

Caleb sat down, following Essek’s request. There was an ancient looking percolator on the backburner of the stove, which Essek was grateful for. It wasn’t the Marquesian Press that Essek had in his own apartment, but Essek was certain it would brew a decent cup. Instant cup coffee machines were a new invention, and certainly were useful. But the coffee itself was just never as good as when you took the time. 

Essek filled the percolator with water and set the water to boil. He measured out a solid four tablespoons of ground coffee he found nestled between a sugar bowl and a honey jar, packing it down, placing the lid on the filter before putting it into the boiling water and covered it with the cap itself. As he let that boil and steep away he caught a glimpse at Caleb, who had mostly melted into the island, head in his arms. Frumpkin was curled next to him, tail swishing lazily. It was the tail running against Caleb’s bare arms that made Essek notice the scars there. They were old...pale against his fair freckled skin and red hair, marking up both forearms. 

Not your business, Essek told himself firmly, taking the bread on the counter and slicing it for toast and popping it in the toaster. Essek spied some apples, in a bowl and set to cutting them up as he waited. He didn’t know what Caleb even ate in the morning...he just hoped that toast, coffee, and an apple would be enough. As he chopped, Essek felt like he was doing some pale imitation of a housewife from an Empire sitcom. Essek didn’t make breakfast...he didn’t even cook. When he was on his own he made smoothies or rice. He bought breakfast at Caleb’s bakery in the morning when he didn’t. Essek didn’t understand this strange urge to do this, but felt if he didn’t he would be crippled by his own conscience. 

The coffee was done, and the toast popped up around the same time. And Essek settled it all in front of Caleb, who was definitely asleep from the way his breaths drew in and out calmly and deeply. Essek looked at Caleb for a long moment, taking in this quiet stolen moment of intimacy. Essek wanted to let him keep sleeping, but as Essek knew so well, Caleb’s job was important to him...and it was important to Essek. 

Gently...Essek settled his hands on Caleb’s forearm and hand. Essek could nearly feel the warmth emanating from him where he was sitting, pressed recently out from his sheets, and cringed at the thought of his cold hands pulling him from that. Caleb made a noise, a soft...vulnerable release of breath and Essek felt like his heart was being wringed dry...dragged out from whatever dark musty cobweb covered corner that Essek hid it in because Essek had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before in his life. 

“Caleb,” Essek murmured, forcing his voice to be calm and even. 

“Hm?” Caleb asked drowsily, attempting to drag his arms closer to his head...a strangely boyish and charming attempt to hide from waking up. 

“How do you take your coffee?” Essek asked him quickly removing his hands (even though he could have lingered in that moment forever), and this drew Caleb up...eyes fluttering open and squinting blearily. “And what would you like on your toast?” 

“A little milk or cream...whatever we have in the fridge,” Caleb said, rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair as Essek opened the fridge. When he turned back, his curls were even less tamed then before. “And...just butter, there’s marmalade in the fridge too.” 

“There,” Essek said, pouring in a dash of milk into the coffee and setting the butter dish and bright orange fruit preserves on the table next to it besides the cut up apple. “Eat and wake up.” 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Caleb said, reaching for the mug as Essek poured his own cup. 

“No, I didn’t. But what can I say, I’m a kind and caring person,” Essek said with a sarcastic smile, taking a sip from his own mug. The coffee was smooth and had a nice body to it. “But please...this is just the bare minimum.” 

“It’s good,” Caleb said, his voice dipping and his accent drawing out the vowels. He took a second drink before giving Essek a look with humor glinting in his blue eyes. “You wouldn’t be in the market for a job as a barista, would you?”

“Oh please,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes. 

“I’m not kidding! You are obviously very talented.” 

“That’s my secret. I’m good at everything,” Essek said, raising his mug to hide his smile, basking at the compliment.  

“Oh? Really?”

“And I’m terribly competitive. Give me your recipe book and teach me to bake and I’ll put you out of business in three months.”  

“That I don’t doubt. I certainly wouldn’t want you as a business competitor,” Caleb chuckled. 

“Thankfully for everyone, I am not in business,” Essek said, sitting across from Caleb. “And I also can’t bake so the Xhorhaus Bakery is safe for now.” 

“We will all sleep well tonight with that knowledge,” Caleb said, slathering his toast with butter and marmalade and taking a bite. “Why don’t you have some?” 

“I’m fine,” Essek said, taking another sip of his coffee. “I won’t be hungry for a few hours yet if at all...I find it difficult to eat in the morning generally. I’m content where I am.”

 “Keeping me company?” Caleb asked with a quirk of his lips. 

“If you don’t mind it,” Essek said. 

“No, I enjoy your company.” 

“You are a rare breed,” Essek noted. 

“Clearly they are lacking taste,” Caleb hummed. 

“Perhaps,” Essek said with a smile. 

“It’s too early for you guys to be flirting,” Beau said as she burst into the kitchen. Essek felt his face heat up. “Sweet, is that coffee?” 

“I believe it’s time for me to go regardless,” Essek said, moving by Beauregard to settle his mug in the sink, shoving everything down where he couldn’t feel anything because he needed to focus and escape this situation as quickly as possible. Her words were echoing in his head, thrumming like his desperate heartbeat. “Enjoy the coffee.” 

“Essek,” Caleb said, sounding hopeful. “This was fun...we...we should do this again sometime.”  

“Ah, yes-I mean, sometime, yes,” Essek said, cringing as he grabbed his coat and hastily yanked on his shoes. 

He was out the door at a solid half-run, shoving his hands in his coat pocket, dragging out his keys and jabbing them into the ignition. He was halfway down the street, holding back a scream as he did so. Do it again sometime, Caleb wanted to do it again sometime. How? Why? It didn’t make any sense. But Essek couldn’t control the desperate beating of his heart and the heat in his face and the way his stomach was full of a fluttering sensation he couldn’t name. 

Flirting. She was right, he had been flirting! Flirting with Caleb. As if that was supposed to help him or this or make anything better? Essek couldn’t think that way, but that was the problem he hadn’t been thinking. What on Exandria had he been doing? Making him breakfast and falling asleep in his damn house with not a care in the world and…! He stopped at a red light and watched a couple cross, pushing their kid in a baby carriage. Then, it smacked Essek in the face like a fireball. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

...he was in love, wasn’t he? This wasn’t just some vague interest or errant attraction. He was in love, Essek was in love with Caleb. 

Someone honked at him and he realized he'd been sitting at a green light. Thankfully moments later he turned into the parking for his own building. He settled his forehead against the steering wheel, letting the waves of emotion wash over him. Essek wanted to scream. What was he supposed to do? What did people do when they were in love? How did people handle it? How was Essek supposed to deal with this situation? 

“Alright, Theylss. It’s time to think. What do you want?” Essek demanded of himself, staring at his own reflection as he pulled down the mirror. Essek looked exhausted and vaguely unhinged to his own eyes. “Screw the rest of them, what do you want?” 

What does he want? He supposed that was the million platinum question. Did he want this to be a light flirtation? Something hot and heavy and fast? Or did he want something to build his life on? Caleb wanted to do it again sometime...wanted to spend time with him and banter over coffee. And Essek found that he wanted that more than anything he could imagine, wanted it so bad he could almost taste it like coffee and sweets and something warm that he could dwell in forever. 

But what if I ruin it? There came the part of Essek that he just couldn’t ignore. You’ll get hasty, you’ll make a mistake, and then the way you are won’t be a choice anymore...it’ll be your fault. It’s not safe. But...could he live with himself if he didn’t try? 

“Nothing I do is safe,” Essek told himself sternly, snapping up his mirror and exiting the car. 

---------

So now that Essek had realized that he was in love with Caleb and wanted something to happen with that love, what was he to do with that information was on his mind? Well, he knew what the next logical step was. Most people that desired a romantic relationship with someone else asked that other person on a date. 

“A date,” Essek muttered, splashing his own face with water and then getting to work on his cleanser.  

What would Caleb want? Essek didn’t really know enough about him to know. He wanted to learn so badly though, so the date itself should be conducive to learning. Essek, also, found most of the trendy dates they covered in the publication to be outright cringe worthy. As if the stress of trying to escape from an escape room would be good to test out a spark? Dinner perhaps? Everyone ate dinner. He could ask Caleb out for dinner. If he got the feeling it was going well...then maybe it could be a date. If not, he could just commit to enjoying Caleb’s presence and friendship and pine like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t rush into things,” Essek warned his reflection, smoothing on moisturizer and looking at himself critically. As usual his skin looked unmarked and unblemished...but...he could always go for a facial. His hair too could be done to be the tiniest fraction neater. It might be worth going to the bath house...but no, he was overthinking it...like always. He just needed to do it, find the right moment and ask Caleb out. 

Essek went to the bakery that morning as usual, though nothing else about the situation felt like normal. The line was full of the usual customers, the regulars that Essek could almost consider them acquaintances at this point even if they had never spoken a word to each other. The orc secretary from the building across from Essek’s, the drow woman who was always bouncing a baby or pushing a carriage, the dwarf running over for his coworkers from the auto shop two doors down.

Essek got to the front of the line, and saw Caleb there. He looked tired, but smiled as soon as he saw Essek. There was flour splashed against the front of his apron, and the dusting of something pink on his cheek, and Essek swore he had never seen a man so beautiful before in his whole damn life. Who knew that knowing someone and loving them could make them more beautiful? It all had to be brain chemistry, it couldn’t be really true, but it felt true.  

“Guten Morgen,” Caleb said. “The usual?” 

“Ah, yes, and what do you have for breakfast today?” Essek asked, his voice normal to his own ears (thankfully). 

“Jester was in the mood for some doughnuts, so I’ll be happy to put together a dozen for you,” Caleb said with a little smile. Jester. She was dancing behind the counter on the other side, chatting with usuals. She spotted him and waved, and Essek waved back numbly. She was beautiful, that was just plain to see. Essek wasn’t attracted to women like that but he knew it to be true. Caleb had smiled about Jester...what if? No. Essek scolded himself. It didn’t hurt to ask. 

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Essek said, not really thinking about the logistics of twelve doughnuts. Someone would have to eat them...he couldn’t horde them to himself, after all. (Even though each individual doughnut was probably delicious enough to warrant such behavior.) 

“I believe you’ll especially enjoy the black moss one,” Caleb said motioning to that specific doughnut in the case, punching in his order. 

“Receipt today please,” Essek said, the thought suddenly springing into his head… a plan sprouting quickly.  Caleb printed out the receipt for him and turned to gather up his doughnuts. As he did so, Essek scrawled his number with his name on the back and slipped it into the tip container before Caleb turned back with his box. 

"Have a good day," Caleb said with a smile. 

"Yes, you too," Essek said, stomach twisted in his anxiety as he rushed out the door. 

Ball was in his court now. Caleb could text Essek, or he wouldn’t. And then if Caleb did decide to text Essek, Essek would ask Caleb out to dinner. Really, it was a perfect solution to the problem he was facing (which was, of course, the issue of the fear of being known). 

Essek arrived at work carrying both the drinks and the box of doughnuts. He handed Quana’s and Leylas’ regular orders to their secretary and then settled down at his desk as he waited for the first meeting of the day that would begin in approximately fifteen minutes. Leylas was meeting with some TV producer and a creative director to hash out exactly what she did and did not want aired on TV. He eyed the box of doughnuts, before flipping the lid just to satisfy his curiosity. 

Each doughnut was frosted with different decorations. There were two plain glazed, two chocolate glazed, and one plain and one cinnamon sugar it looked like. The rest were filled doughnuts, dusted with confectioners sugar or frosted with flowers or fruits decorating the sides. He picked up a doughnut, unable to resist it. It was quite beautiful, golden brown with a white frosting a single beautifully piped flower. Essek took a bite, if only to sate his grumbling stomach and wasn’t disappointed. It melted in his mouth. Black moss was a recent phenomenon, and the taste was much like a high quality green tea, subtly sweet and with deep earthy notes. But of course...the frosting was vanilla and almond and just the hint of lemon...sweet and deliciously sour and pairing perfectly with the filling.

Lemon again...that fool, Essek thought feeling oddly emotional because Caleb knew what his favorite flavor was. Not that he had ever had a favorite flavor before, but he didn't think anyone had ever cared enough about him to learn. 

Essek looked at the top of the doughnut and realized that though there hadn’t been something written before, there was something written now. It’ll be a sweet day! The handwriting was feminine and looping and had hearts in place of periods, most likely Jester’s doing. Essek smiled at the doughnut in his hand. It was a very cute, and as always inventive use for the spell Illusory Script. He wondered how they had worked out that trigger. It was almost a shame to eat it, though, he finished the whole doughnut quickly. When you were eating something that disappeared like that, it almost felt like you were eating air. It was too good to feel bad about, though he made sure to close the box and push it as far away from his hands as he could. He definitely didn’t want to push his luck on a second doughnut. 

Essek was in the middle of these thoughts when his phone vibrated, startling him out of his own brain. Essek nearly slammed his phone down onto the desk, screen down so he didn’t have to look at the message at first and then felt stupid for doing so. What if it was just a business text? What if it was his boss? He couldn’t just flinch and dither around all day like he was some lovestruck bachelor waiting by the door for word of an accepted engagement offer. He had a job to do, he couldn’t forget that. After all, his job was one of the one things that he was actually good at. 

He turned his phone over, and saw it was definitely not his boss. It was an unknown number...and under it a message for him. 

Hello this is Caleb. Is this Essek?  

Oh Luxon, it was happening. He had really texted him. What did people normally do in situations like this? How long should he wait before texting back? It had already been two minutes since he had received the text, that should be an appropriate amount of time. After all, for work, under five minutes tended to be the sweet spot for communication. But what should he say? That was a whole other can of wyrms. 

Hello, yes, this is Essek. Essek sent as he mushed ahead without a second thought, and then was immediately washed with a sense of existential dread so strong he wanted to bash his head into the desk. He reread his own response, wishing that he had majored in the dunamantic study of reversing time. He was being so formal and stilted. How was he supposed to bring up the idea of a date naturally in this state? Obviously someone was punishing him for his avarice and naturally impossible good looks. Really this was what he deserved. Maybe he shouldn’t have bad talked the Luxon so much as an angsty teenager. 

His phone buzzed in his hand, making him nearly drop it. He scrambled to right it in his fingers and read what Caleb had written. 

I’m glad, I had totally forgotten to ask you for your number the other day, was Caleb’s response. And then the second message came through before Essek could truly emotionally process what was going on, I meant what I said, I would like to spend more time with you if you would like?

“Oh fuck it,” Essek muttered to himself, throwing caution to the wind. 

I was wondering if you would be interested in dinner? Essek sent, feeling his heart pounding in his ears as he did so. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, of agonizing over a single message because what if Essek had read this all wrong? What if Caleb didn’t feel the things that Essek did during those stolen moments during the day? 

His phone pinged, and Essek scrambled to open it up. 

Yes, I am. 

Just that was enough to relieve the pressure he had found on his lungs, allowing him to draw in a deep breath. Caleb was interested. He was interested in dinner. Then to his surprise another text came through immediately after. 

Tonight? 

Tonight? Essek thought, mind reeling. He didn't have anything going on tonight. He could do it tonight. Could he get a table anywhere decent though was the question. He pulled up a certain restaurant and looked at the number. He may need to name drop. But, he could probably get it done...after all he was Essek Theylss. Getting things done how he wanted them was what he did for a career. He quickly managed to secure a table, and within five minutes he was typing back to Caleb.

Tonight it is. I’ll send you the address.  

I’ll see you then. 

Essek settled down his phone, attempting to control his urge to smile as he spun in his chair. Tonight, a date with Caleb tonight. Even if Caleb hadn’t read it as such, he could make this work to his favor regardless. Something to look forward to...that was another thing that Caleb had given him that had broken the monotony of Essek’s routine. It took so little to make him happy recently...another new development that was all Caleb’s fault. Just this...the promise of seeing Caleb again was enough. 

“Essek, meeting’s starting,” Quana said as she walked by his desk. Essek stood up, pocketing his phone as he did so and grabbing his tablet. 

“Thank you,” Essek told her as he walked beside her. 

“Did something good happen?” Quana asked suspiciously. 

“Perhaps,” Essek answered, his smile rehearsed...and yet, feeling more genuine than it ever had before. 

------

Essek looked at himself in the mirror again. As always, he looked attractive. The trip after work to the barber had been worth the trouble he thought as he inspected the neat lines and cut of his hair. He still didn’t know if Caleb was attracted to men...or drow. He had heard that some people were particular about species, though he had never understood attraction to begin with so he certainly wasn’t an expert. But...he hadn’t pulled away when Essek had touched his arm...so that was a good sign that maybe he was in luck. Regardless, Essek found it hard to believe that many could resist his good looks. It happened of course, but, his pretty face could only serve as a boon tonight. 

 He had dressed in a charcoal grey suit, and was finishing tying his tie as his phone rang. Thinking it might be Caleb he excitedly picked it up, only to feel his face twist. Ugh. This was the last thing he wanted right now. Looking seriously at the caller ID on his phone, and knowing that if he didn’t answer he would be in a whole world of trouble, he sighed as he answered the call and opened his closet. He scanned the rack he kept of his shoes, looking for something formal but comfortable. 

“Yes mother?” Essek asked her, voice clipped and short even to his own ears. 

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Dierta asked with a sigh, though she didn’t sound too annoyed with Essek. She had to be used to his attitude at this point in their relationship after all. 

“I’m just a little busy at the moment,” Essek said, picking out a pair of black shoes and setting them down on the floor. “What did you need?” 

“Essek, we’re going to have a dinner tonight with Den VeSunn, and we’ll-”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not available tonight,” Essek said with a sigh, managing to get his first shoe on by shoving it on his foot, but he almost lost his balance. He settled down on the couch, hoping to not repeat that performance. He found the second shoe was much easier to pull on sitting. 

“You aren’t available?” Dierta asked incredulously. “What? Is Leylas having a party or something? I certainly wasn’t invited to one.” 

“No, Mother, I have plans tonight so I will be unavailable,” Essek repeated as he walked over to his dresser and picked out some earrings that capped the end of his ear and dangled attractively without being too ostentatious. He put his mother on speaker so he could use both hands and not stab himself. He doubted that Caleb would find bleeding or bruised ears attractive. 

“You have plans?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Essek asked sarcastically, and considering the noise his mother gave him on the other side of the line apparently it was. 

“What could be more important than this?” Dierta demanded incredulously, sounding more annoyed than anything. 

“If you must know, I have a date tonight,” Essek said with a snap at his phone, finally losing his well worn sense of patience. “Does that satisfy your need to know?” 

There was silence on the other side of the line. It was long enough that he stopped what he was doing and confirmed that his mother hadn’t hung up on him. For a dark moment Essek was sure he had given his mother a heart attack and would now only be known as that poor son of a bitch who had killed his mother by having a social life. He realized then that he didn’t think he had ever told his mother about any of his dates before...not that he had gone on more than a handful, and he certainly hadn’t gone on any within the past five years. Oh Gods...what have a I done? Essek thought hopelessly. Why did I feel the need to tell her?  

“Really?” Dierta asked, sounding shocked and delighted and stopping Essek from texting his brother to go check on her. Essek could feel a headache coming on. “What’s her den? Her name? Her profession-” 

“Goodbye mother,” Essek said forcefully before hanging up the phone. 

Essek shook his head and fixed his tie, looking in the mirror one last time before grabbing his keys. The drive itself felt like the longest ten minutes of his life, but thankfully he wasn’t inundated with calls from his mother or the den demanding answers. When he got to the restaurant he was about five minutes early, just as he had planned. He confirmed with the host about his seat, and he was brought over to a table in a more private section of the restaurant. 

“Would you like to start with a drink, sir?” a waiter asked him. 

“Just water to start, I’ll wait for my companion before ordering anything,” Essek told him, and as the waiter smiled and went to do as Essek asked. He took a moment to put his phone on silent and tuck it away in his jacket pocket. He didn’t even want to think about seeing any of his mother’s texts or emails from work. For once, Essek was truly on his own time. 

It was a moment later that Caleb appeared, looking winded. He was dressed in a white cable knit sweater and tan slacks, his hair was half pulled back in a bun with red curls lapping at his neck. When he saw Essek he smiled, looking relieved. 

“I’m sorry, I got a bit caught up with the bakery,” Caleb said breathlessly. “Guten abend, Essek.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Essek said, motioning to the other seat in front of him. Caleb took it. “Thank you for joining me tonight.” 

“Please don’t thank me,” Caleb said with a warm...hopeful smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this since you asked me.”

“I...same,” Essek said, unable to come up with anything else to say really. What could he say? I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience but I’m in love with you and if you don’t love me back I’ll respect that but pine after you for the rest of my life like some sort of tragic widower waiting for her long lost husband who had been taken by the sea? Granted, that was all true, but it sounded pathetic when he laid it out like that. 

“I’ve never been here before,” Caleb said as he looked around. “I don’t think I’ve eaten traditional Xhorhassian food before either.”

“You haven’t?” Essek asked, surprised. 

“I have to admit...it’s a bit intimidating,” Caleb chuckled. “I grew up with a selection of eating potatoes, bread, and maybe a turnip or an apple for some variety.” 

“There’s a lot of fermenting...vegetables especially. Use of mushrooms, and of course, whatever animals that are natural to the region. Also, of course, rice. Tell me, how are you with spice?” 

“I’m fairly alright with spice,” Caleb said. 

“I have a few favorites here and I’d be happy to point them out to you, but, when the waiter comes back we can order drinks first. No need to rush,” Essek said, spying the waiter returning with water. “Order anything you’d like.” 

“This has to be one of the most expensive restaurants in the city,” Caleb said, sounding incredulous as he looked at the menu and did a double take. 

“And I’m paying for it,” Essek told him, crossing his legs. “Whatever you want, I’m completely serious.” 

“You shouldn’t-”

“Don’t argue with me, just enjoy this.” 

“Alright then...there’s a saying about a gift and a horse but I don’t remember how it goes. Ach, I don’t know enough about Xhorhassian liquor to make an educated decision,” Caleb said, mouth quirking in a teasing smile. “And I don’t know what would go best with any food.” 

“Well, for once I believe I have an idea. My personal favorite appetizer here is the Turtle Bone Soup, though, the spicy fried spider legs are quite good too. I’ve heard that...for your reference, turtles taste a bit like beef and spiders are like crab.” 

“Turtle?” Caleb asked with a surprised laugh. “I haven’t had a turtle before in that way...I’ll have to give it a try.” 

And so Essek ordered the two bowls of soup and a platter of the fried spider legs to share. As they waited they began to talk, first about the Mighty Nein itself. Essek couldn’t help but indulge his curiosity about what pit fighting must have been like. The answer was terrifying but very profitable. Caleb also recounted his first meeting with the other members of his friend group, laughing about how Jester had nearly broken all the windows in the bar with her demonstration of her magic. 

“So she is a cleric?” Essek asked, taking a spoonful of his soup. The food itself was delicious, the meaty savory broth a perfect pairing with the spicey sauce and sweet meat of the spider legs and the cold root vegetable slaw that they served on the side. It was strange...he had eaten this exact order before...but he could have sworn it hadn’t tasted as delicious. He wondered if there was a new chef. “I was wondering, though, I hadn’t recognized the symbol on her bracelet.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned the Traveler to you yet,” Caleb noted. “She’s quite...taken with him, would be the best way to put it.” 

“My mother is the same way,” Essek commented with a sip of his wine. “She had always been a religious woman, so I’m used to spontaneous religious lectures.” 

“If it isn't rude to ask...what deity does your family worship?”

“The Luxon,” Essek said, “though I’m not religious...don’t tell my mother that though.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Is the rest of your family religious then?”

“It’s hard to say,” Essek sighed, swirling the wine in his glass. “My mother has had a few relationships in her life, she is long lived. I’m not particularly close to my half siblings as a result of them being...oh, about a hundred years older than me. My brother...well, I wouldn’t say he’s too religious but he’s more religious than me.” 

“You have a big family?”

“Technically. We are drow, blessed with long natural lives and large dens. It leads to relatively complex family trees and strange family get-togethers,” Essek explained. “What about you?” 

“I...ah…” Caleb said, a shadow quickly falling across Caleb’s features. Phantom pain twisted there, like Essek was rubbing salt into open wounds. “I lost my parents a while ago. The Mighty Nein is my family now.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Essek said, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. Unsure of how best to comfort him, Essek squirmed in his seat for a moment trying to think of a response. But Caleb did it for him, as he reached out and settled his fingers over Essek’s hand. Essek stared incredulously at Caleb for a moment, but didn’t move his hand. He couldn’t believe that Caleb was touching him, in a way that could only be read as romantic. He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“It was a long time ago,” Caleb said, though he looked as haunted as a man who had just suffered the loss the day before. Essek wondered what it must be like to love someone else in such a way. He wondered if that was what he was feeling now for Caleb. Just feeling it for Caleb was overwhelming...he couldn’t imagine having felt like this so many times before in his life and then losing those he had come to adore. How did one bear it?  Just the thought was enough to twist his stomach...to make him want to make ridiculous promises to Caleb like the hero in a romantic drama. But Essek couldn’t do that...he was just Essek. All he could do was this.  

“Tell me about something else then, Caleb, how did you come about spellcasting?” Essek asked, ruefully extricating his hand from Caleb’s as the waiter came back to fill up their glasses of water. 

“Well, at first it wasn’t a hobby,” Caleb said. “Well, as a child I managed a few things with an old spell book my mother bartered from a passing merchant. But I did my compulsory years in the military, as do all men in the Empire. It was there that it was determined rather quickly that I had no talent as a soldier...but I could make a decent mage.” 

“I see,” Essek said. “In Xhorhassian schools you are given introductory courses to most known and legal methods of magic but most don’t stick with it nowadays. Wizardry is a relatively niche subject to pursue.” 

“But you did, didn’t you?” 

“I did, I was top in my class at the Marble Tomes Conservatory,” Essek said with a proud smile. “I...I have to admit...it’s been a long time since I’ve thought so frequently about magic. But I find myself thinking of it often when I’m with you...it makes me happy.” 

“Magic is what you love, ja? Have you ever just thought...fuck it? I’ll go back into it?” Caleb’s tone was light with humor. 

“The thought has crossed my mind before,” Essek admitted. “But I’m good at my job...I find it hard to justify leaving it to chase a dream.” 

“Forget your job for a moment,” Caleb said pointing at Essek with his spoon. “Imagine that money isn’t an issue. What is it that you are most interested in right now?” 

Right now? He thought about it. He was most interested in taking Caleb’s face in his hands and kissing him honestly, but Essek didn’t think that was the answer that Caleb was looking for. But if he was thinking of a socially acceptable answer to the question? 

“I’ve been thinking about the marzipan,” Essek admitted. 

“...the marzipan? I don’t follow.” 

“On the cake...for my bosses,” Essek said before sucking in a suddenly self-conscious breath. “Never mind, it’s foolish.” 

“Nein,  I want to hear it,” Caleb promised. 

“Well… you know how it was discussed that you were going to be using sculpted marzipan to shape into birds...and then utilize animate object?” Essek asked and Caleb nodded, following his thought. “I was thinking about using the spell adjust density to compliment it...give the appearance that the birds fly and then return to the cake.” 

“I’ve never heard of that spell,” Caleb said, sounding utterly enthralled. His food was forgotten in front of him as he leaned in closer to Essek, wide blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Is that from the school of dumaturgy?” 

“Yes, it’s a second level graviturgist spell.” 

“How fascinating,” Caleb said. “Tell me, how exactly does this spell work?” 

Thankfully this carried the conversation away from Essek and his career to magic, which Essek was far more comfortable discussing. Caleb was excited about the idea, but also seemed genuinely interested in the mechanics and the minutiae of such a low level spell. It was one of the first spells a graviturgist learned in school, and yet Caleb seemed content to discuss how the spell could work in congruity with a spell like flight to both lengthen and strengthen the effect. Essek wished, strangely, that he had brought his spellbook. Not that it would have been appropriate on any other first date, but now he felt foolish for not thinking of it. His wrist pocket nowadays was home to things like his car keys and his portable phone charger...not his spellbook.  

By the time dinner completed, they had managed to work through a few possible ideas on how Caleb could incorporate those spells into an already spell-heavy cake. Essek snapped the check out from Caleb grasp as the waiter set it down, sliding in his credit card before Caleb could even look at the bill. 

“Now that was conniving,” Caleb said. 

“I told you, I am happy to take care of it,” Essek said as the waiter returned and Essek signed the check. 

“Then let me treat you to something,” Caleb said. “Veth’s husband Yeza owns the Apothecary. Have you ever heard of it?” 

“No,” Essek admitted, frowning. 

“It is an old fashioned apothecary in the day, but a nice cocktail bar at night. It’s only a few blocks from here...let me get you a drink, only if you would like of course.” 

Caleb didn’t want this night to end either, Essek realized, hoping his excitement wasn’t plain to see on his face. He was, hopefully...as always...the picture of calm cool and collected. But beyond excited...it relieved Essek. Now it was so much easier to believe that perhaps...maybe...just maybe Caleb felt the same way that Essek did. 

“I cannot abide by the idea that there is a bar that I am not acquainted with in this city so I’ll take you up on your offer,” Essek said as he put on his jacket and looped his scarf. When he finished he looked to see Caleb opening the door for him, allowing Essek to duck out first. Essek looked at Caleb, noting his scarf was in complete disarray and motioned for Caleb to come closer. Essek reached up and relooped the strands until Caleb looked presentable. “There. Now you won’t freeze to death.” 

“I’m a little heartier than you might think,” Caleb laughed, cheeks and nose reddening in the cold. It made the dusting of freckles across his nose and his cheek more vivid, as did the shadow of his beard. He wondered what it was like to kiss a man with a beard. Essek had never done that before...

“Perhaps, but I’ve always been paranoid,” Essek admitted, trying to shake his mind from his desires for two minutes.  

Caleb walked them down three blocks exactly and turned them left once. Essek found that the night air...though cold, was thankfully grounding in these strange dreamlike times. It was nearly impossible to argue that this whole date...it had to be considered a date at this point... so far was just a figment of his imagination when the winter air was biting at his ears and making his earring jingle. They arrived at the Apothecary, as it was advertised on the street. 

The bar itself was pleasantly full, the building was a lot of warm exposed wood and lantern and candle lighting, with herbs hanging to dry and jars filled with various liquids in shelves on the walls. Couples and groups were seated at small circular tables and at the counter-bar. When they walked in, the halfling behind the bar perked up. Essek wasn't familiar with many halflings as they were still a new sight in Rosohna. The halfling man was balanced on a rolling stool. He wasn't traditionally handsome, but there was something immediately comforting about his appearance. He had an open friendly face, accompanied with a riot of untamed brown curls and sideburns, and round glasses that were precariously perched on his face. He grinned as Caleb walked up to the bad, and looked at Essek knowingly in a way that made his skin tingle. He wasn't sure what that meant but it wasn't a good sign. 

"Good evening, Yeza. I don't think you've met Essek. Essek, this is Yeza Bernatto, Veth's husband," Caleb introduced. 

"A pleasure," Essek said with a prim nod, before seeing the halfling's stocky hand pop out from behind the bar. 

"So this is the mysterious Essek! It's wonderful to meet you, my wife's spoke about you many times! Thank you for coming to the Apothecary," Yeza greeted, and Essek took the offered hand as gracefully as he could and quickly dropped it. "Veth will be back out in a minute, but in the meantime Caleb do you want your usual?" 

“Flight of Trost, ja,” Caleb said, his accent delicious on the word trost. Now that was something Essek wanted to drink down greedily. 

“Trost?” Essek repeated as Yeza slid the drink menu to him. 

“The word means comfort in Zemnian, but it’s a kind of beer,” Caleb said and Essek watched the halfling pour the four smaller glasses of beer and arrange them on the tray. “From a region famous in the Empire for it. Do you drink beer?”

“Not really,” Essek admitted, trying to refocus away from Caleb’s voice and back to reality. Beer in Xhorhas was a newer fad, and considering their abysmal track record of growing wheat, anything he had drank from Xhorhas had tasted watered down and stale. He had beers from the Empire before, at the luxurious parties put on by nouveau riche dens, but found it far less pleasant than other spirits. “I prefer wines and liquors.”   

“How about a Health Potion?” Yeza offered, having obviously been listening in to the conversation. 

“A health potion?” Essek asked incredulously. 

“I’m very clever with titles,” Veth said, appearing from the back carrying snacks for the couple on the other side of the bar. She settled her hands on her hips and presented herself like a queen in her own castle. “It’s mulled wine, perfect for this weather. We keep it on simmer in the back.” 

“Sure, I’ll have that then,” Essek said for lack of any other idea and because Veth was Caleb’s friend and Essek wanted them to like him for some reason he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He watched as Veth disappeared and then reappeared once more with a glass mug that she settled in front of him and then garnished with a cinnamon stick and a twist of orange rind. Mulled wine had to be a Empire thing...he hadn’t ever heard of heating wine. In fact, in Xhorhas they traditionally served wine at frigid temperatures and over ice. The liquid was a deep burgundy, and he prepared himself as he took a sip with all of the enthusiasm of a child taking a spoonful of cough syrup or an actual health potion. 

Instead, the drink was delicious. There were the fruity notes of apple cider and the brightness of oranges, the deep flavor of a red wine Essek had yet made the acquaintance of as well as the softer feel of perhaps a merlot and the caramel finish of a port, and had the kick of cinnamon and cloves and cardamom. It immediately transported him somewhere with a roaring fire and a fur rug and a good book tucked next to him by his favorite armchair. 

“What type of wine is this?” Essek asked. 

“It’s from Kamordah, not one the more expensive vineyards...those can cost you an arm and a leg. But even the affordable booze from there is delicious,” Veth said. 

“Veth’s the expert,” Caleb noted. 

“Oh come off it,” Veth said with a dismissive wave before leaning against the counter, her long braids sweeping against the wood. “Or, you can continue to compliment me, I don’t mind.” 

“We all know you are fabulous, my little friend,” Caleb said with a fond look in his eyes. “I knew it from the first time I met you.” 

“Out of everyone in that holding cell, I can assure you, I was the best pick.” 

“Holding cell?” Essek repeated, only because he thought he must have heard her wrong. But instead, Veth planted herself proudly in his view as if she could make herself three feet taller by just her confidence. 

“We met in jail,” Veth said cheerily for someone who had been to jail, and Caleb hung his head in exaggerated despair. Then, immediately she looked suspiciously at him. “You aren’t going to report me right?”

“I don’t care about that sort of thing,” Essek said.  

“Don’t tell him about my sordid past!” Caleb bemoaned. 

“What were you in jail for?” Essek asked, faking suspicion.  

“Public intoxication,” Veth said. 

“Loitering,” Caleb admitted. 

“Loitering?” Essek repeated. 

“Sleeping while poor,” Caleb corrected. “I was roughing it most nights back then, ja?” 

“We both were. But regardless, I’ll leave you two to it,” Veth said with a long knowing look at Caleb, which had Caleb blushing and hiding his face in his beer. Yeza had already drifted off to welcome more regulars to the bar. 

“I didn’t know I was out with a criminal tonight,” Essek said with a sidelong glance at Caleb.

“Don’t look so damned pleased with yourself,” Caleb grumbled. 

“Oh, I’m not smiling about your crimes...which are, I promise, nothing worse than I did in University. But, I’m more pleased at the thought of what my mother would say if she knew I was spending my evening with someone with an actual record of law breaking. I derive great pleasure from her pearl clutching,” Essek admitted with a grin that felt too sharp to be his usual placeholder. 

“Oh? What sort of crimes did a young Essek Theylss get up to in university?” Caleb asked curiously, finishing his first glass. 

“I made sure that everyone had what they needed at any given time,” Essek said with a smirk and a sip of his drink. “I have always been very good at cultivating relationships that benefit me. That’s what breaking the law while rich allows you to do.” 

“...if you weren’t being so hilarious I might be offended,” Caleb said with a laugh that resonated from his belly and filled Essek with warmth, like the simmering mulled wine in his cup. He felt pleasantly buzzed, like he was drunk from just a few sips. But it was Caleb’s presence that was so addicting...so effecting. He couldn’t even remember a time where he had smiled the way he was smiling now...when he hadn’t been with Caleb or the Mighty Nein. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him hilarious. He was sure that if his coworkers or his family heard Caleb say that they would have had Caleb checked in for psychiatric help, and the Essek before wouldn’t have blamed them. But Essek was slowly becoming acquainted with the person he could be around Caleb and perhaps it was the person Essek actually was but not buried under the mounds of baggage he carried from place to place like it was the gravity pulling him straight to the center of the earth. And the more Essek was becoming acquainted with Caleb and acquainted with himself the more Essek didn’t ever want to go back.    

“Perhaps you should be,” Essek dared because apparently Essek was daring now, another recent development that surprised him. Caleb’s eyes had a little heat in them as Essek caught his gaze, and Essek was thrilled because they were flirting and it was going well and it didn’t make Essek feel like he wanted to find the closest window to jump out of. Essek settled his hand on Caleb’s where it was resting on his chair. Caleb didn’t move it, instead he took another sip of his drink and intertwined his fingers with Essek’s. Essek blushed into his cup with his words stuck in his throat, but felt that this could certainly be enough. 

And so Essek soaked up the next hour or so of Caleb’s company. They talked about a wide berth of topics, from philosophy to mathematics to even theoretical spellcrafting. That was the gift of Caleb, he was always able to meet him where his mind was going and find something interesting to say. He was quite unlike anyone else that Essek had ever known. What a gift it was to be able to just be with someone who understood you. It was something that Essek was learning to cherish. But at some point he noticed Caleb’s eyes drooping, and took note of the time. 

“I should be heading home now,” Essek said, and before Essek could attempt to pay for this as well Veth waved at Caleb. 

“It’s on Caleb’s tab,” Veth said, and Essek gave Caleb a look which he met with feigned cluelessness.  

“Let me walk you back to your car,” Caleb said as he stood. 

“There’s no need for that, you are going in the opposite direction,” Essek pointed out to him as they left the bar and stood on the street. Snowflakes drifted into streetlights, casting pale light that made Caleb’s eyes a vivid dark shade. “Thank you...for tonight. I had a wonderful time.” 

“I would be happy to do it again any time,” Caleb promised him, standing close to him now...far more close then Essek could ever have imagined him being. “Your company is truly a great pleasure...there are very few people that I can talk to the way I do with you. I...I hope you feel the same way.” 

“I do,” Essek is what he said. I love you, is what he meant. 

For a moment that Essek swore was suspended in the air, they shared something heavier than a breath...a kiss that was almost softer than a kiss. It set his heart fluttering so he couldn’t have imagined it...the sensation of Caleb’s scruff and the warmth of his hand was too vivid for him to have made it up. It was inquisitive and gentle and all Essek’s and he wouldn’t ever trade it for anything. 

I love you, Essek’s heart said as it finally found its rhythm between Caleb’s kisses. I love you.

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER SEVEN - RED AND BLUES

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,708

In hindsight, Roxana probably shouldn't have had three strongly poured bloody marys. She should have switched to something less filling after a big meal; like a vodka soda, if she felt like keeping to the same liquor, or a gin and tonic to stir things up. Unfortunately, all the tomato juice and grits and bread and sausage and eggs did not mix well with the sight of someone's throat being literally torn open.

It was nasty, but at least now she could jot down 'successfully grossed out a five-hundred-something-year-old vampire' in her list of lifetime achievements.

"Well, that was…unexpected." Dracula said after a moment, his hands hung in the air like they were held up by marionette strings, "Revolting, yes, but I have to admit, this is a first."

"I…um, I would apologize, but -"

"Yes, you should be sorry! This is an Ermenegildo Zegna." He growled lowly and the Italian name slid off his tongue in such a way that it sent shivers down her spine. Not entirely unpleasant ones, she'd be loath to admit.

"Who cares about a suit? You just ended that man's life!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a few steps back to distance herself from the vampire. "Besides, you clearly can afford another one."

Dracula rolled his eyes and sighed, his hands now working on their own accord as he began to carefully peel the ruined jacket away from his body. "It's not about the money, Roxana, it's about the craftsmanship and quality of the items; think of the countless hours spent meticulously sewing and sizing each individual article of clothing. All of that dedication and hard work tossed away just because you can't stomach a little bit of blood."

"Unbelievable." She began to pace in a small circle, dragging her nails quite viciously and repeatedly through her unruly locks. "You care more about some bits of fabric than a human being's life."

After shaking off the chunks from the coat, he placed it sloppily over the corpse and started working on his vest. There was that ferocity that he recognized in her, it reminded him of Agatha, and it was that Van Helsing fire that was not so easily snubbed. "You will come to learn, my dear, that death is part of the journey. It is the finished masterpiece. Think of it as your magnum opus! It is the very thing that defines the meaning of every life and is nothing that you should be afraid of."

"You're missing my point completely and, for the record, I'm not scared of death."

Dracula was relieved to find the button-up shirt underneath his vest to be unscathed, but also a little more than slightly intrigued by her statement. He would, how they say, put a pin in it and return back to that later. "Then why are you so upset? It's not like you knew him."

She groaned and threw up her hands in exasperation. Roxana was not about to try and teach an old vampire new moral tricks, that was well above her pay grade.

Rolling up his sleeves, the Count set out to retrieve his belongings from the pockets of his jacket and then fitted the dirtied clothes onto the dead body. For the final touch, he slid his Ray Bans over the man's glassy eyes. "Ah, good enough, I suppose."

Dracula took a step back to view his handiwork while absentmindedly wiped the remaining blood from his face. Roxana stopped her pacing to stare dumbly at the sight before her. The mugger was propped up against the wall with his head drooped down to the side, covering the neck wound so it looked like someone who had little too much fun and passed out on the sidewalk. Not an entirely uncommon sight in this city.

"Please tell me you're not just going to leave him here."

He looked at her with raised brows, "And what would you have me do?"

"Clean up after yourself!" Roxana cried out. The adrenaline rush she got from witnessing a murder had not completely dissipated so now she was left grasping a bout of minor hysteria. "I would think that would be obvious!"

Dracula laughed, "That's rich coming from someone who just upchucked her dinner all over one of my finest suits!"

"Because you decided to floss your teeth with some dude's carotid artery."

"Why are you surprised? You know what I am!"

"Well, excuse me if I was a little caught off guard because it's a hell of a lot different seeing a vampire up close and in action as opposed to a tiny, shitty computer screen!" She was nearly shouting, oblivious to the desperation in her own voice as he drew closer. Her neck craned upwards to try and boldly keep eye contact while his grin grew to make him look like the cat who caught the canary. "Stop smiling like that!"

"Make me." His tone was teasingly low, those eyes wicked and sharp. She noticed how lively Dracula looked after he fed. It was unsettling.

WHOOP! WHOOP!

They jumped apart as sirens suddenly yipped at them and a bright flashlight waved back and forth between their faces. The dark street was instantly flooded by the red and blues spinning on top of the police car.

"Oh, fuck me." She murmured with wide eyes. Her hands instinctively started to raise a little before she forced them back down, reminding herself to act casual.

Dracula leaned over slightly, "Is that an invitation?"

"Please shut up." She hissed back, shooting him a glare. "And no, it's not."

He made a facial shrug and then smirked, tossing her a casual little wink just to rile her up. The short, frustrated huff he got in return was satisfying enough.

"Everything all right here?" The cop rolled down his window and peered out at them. "And how about your friend over there? He's not looking so great."

The light shined over the dead guy leaning against the wall and the pair froze, glancing at one another.

This was her moment, she could tell the officer about the murder and maybe he could protect her against…the vampire. Oh, who was she kidding? Dracula would quicker snap her neck and drain the officer before risking the chance of exposure like that.

Meanwhile, her inner moral soldiers battled fiercely inside her brain over whether or not she should even say something about the murder. On the one hand, the count was a vicious blood-sucker who killed a man in a blink of the eye without any remorse, but on the other hand, it was technically self-defense…on her behalf anyway.

Logic eventually won when she realized that even if she did rat him out, it was highly unlikely the cop would even believe the truth. She would sound like a crazy person. The mental image of Dracula laughing and waving while she, hands uncomfortably cuffed behind her back, watched on with teary eyes as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance because the cruiser she was detained in drove off to the nearest prison…or an insane asylum. Whichever was closest.

Be killed or incarcerated? Neither were ideal. So Roxana went for door number three instead.

Dracula saw the look on her face. The look of a scared little rabbit getting ready to bolt. He had already tensed in preparation for her to make a sudden move but, to his surprise, that peculiar look vanished and Roxana smiled.

"All good here, officer! And yes, unfortunately this drunk pleb is with us. We were just about to get a ride back to the airbnb, sir." She shrugged her shoulders with a laugh. "It was his first time on Bourbon Street."

"Yes, I do believe he had one too many bloodys," Dracula was pleasantly surprised by her change in demeanor and happily played along. "Poor man vomited all over himself before we could find him a bin. Such a lightweight."

The officer squinted a little and they waited with bated breaths as he took a moment, which really felt like ages, to decide whether or not he believed their story.

"Alright then," He said at length and pointed to Dracula, "You make sure they get home safe now, ya hear?"

Roxana's eyebrows rose in disbelief while the Count grinned toothily, stepping over to her. She felt his hand slide up her spine and rest in a light grip around the back of her neck. "Of course, officer. I'll take care of them."

With a nod, the cop turned off his lights and drove back down the street, making a left at the next corner. Roxana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and dropped her shoulders.

That was a close call.

"My, my, your heart is racing, Roxana." Dracula murmured into the darkness that had enveloped them once more. His thumb brushed over her pulse point and he was thrilled when it spiked at the touch. She went to move away but halted her step when she felt his grip tighten, those claws threatening to make a cut. He turned her to face him and firmly, but gently tilted her head back to force her to meet his stare.

"That was your chance. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Please," She scoffed and jutted her chin out defiantly, "We both know it would've been pointless."

"Still," He spoke softly, his head angling back as he observed her, "You could have told the police officer the truth."

"And have you kill us both? I think not. Remember, the foundation showed me those videos and I know you're immune to bullets. So what good would that have done me?"

Dracula stared at her for a moment and then wetted his lips slowly before speaking, inching closer and closer towards her face. "For the last time, I'm not killing you yet because I wish to get to know you, but if you keep bringing it up, I might feel inclined to change that timeframe."

"Well are you going to be this intolerable all the time? Because if so, then just get on with it, I'm in no mood to play a long con here, big guy."

"No, I do believe the fun has just begun."

"Great. Just great." Roxana was truly done. She could still taste the bile on her tongue like acid, it made her feel disgusting, and she wanted nothing more than the day to end. "Now, if you'll let me go, I'm in desperate need of a shower, a toothbrush, and a bed. Maybe a nightcap too because the last twenty-four hours of my life have been absolutely fucked."

Acquiescing her request, Dracula released his grip and allowed her to distance herself from him once more. He watched as she dragged a hand down her face and heaved a sigh; her blue eyes almost shined in the darkness up at him as she gave him a tired half-assed glare. She then turned and started walking towards Canal Street.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." She called over her shoulder, her manners be damned. "Goodnight, Dracula."

The Count gawked when she didn't even give him a second glance and he did nothing but watch as she made her way to the end of the street and disappeared around the corner. He truly did not understand that woman. Perhaps it was ingrained in the Van Helsing blood to be habitually nonplussed by his vampiric prowess.

He pulled out his cell phone with a sigh as his thoughts drifted to the dead man wearing his now-ruined five-thousand-dollar suit and about a quart of said Van Helsing's DNA. Dracula needed to get rid of that evidence before it came back and bit him in the ass. No pun intended.

"Hello, my lord, how was your day today?" Renfield sounded chipper as ever.

"I need you to dispose of a body."

Dracula grinned from ear to ear as he listened delightfully to the unfiltered frustration in Frank Renfield's long-suffering sigh.

—

What a day, Roxana thought as she shuffled onto the streetcar and plopped down in one of the wooden seats. With a lurch, the machine squealed and rattled as it moved forward along the track. She winced; the benches on these particular modes of transportation were incredibly unforgiving on one's posterior.

Blankly, she stared into nothing, not paying attention as the buildings passed by. The events of the night played on repeat in her mind. A real vampire killed a real person right before her eyes. Was this really real life now? She was too exhausted to try and figure it out.

She felt like an outsider looking in on her body as it ran on autopilot. Her hand pulled the string to stop the car and somehow her feet managed to take her all the way to her front step without incident.

Fifolet meowed at her incessantly by the door but it sounded muted and far away as she unlocked it. Robotically, she made a beeline to the bathroom and shed her clothes along the way. Not even waiting for the water to warm up, Roxana stood unflinchingly under the cold spray and began to clean herself as the temperature increased to the cusp of scalding. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was red and raw. When she was finished, she pressed her forehead against the tiled wall and closed her eyes, simply listening to the water roar around her.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand up to gently wrap her fingers around her neck and couldn't stop her mind from wandering…from remembering the distinct sensation of another hand. His hand. She could almost still feel the vast expanse of his palm grasping her jugular and those impossibly long fingers curling nearly all the way around. Or how he leaned so close until he was just a breath away and anytime she would inhale, those fingers would tighten ever-so-slightly against her flesh.

Roxana's eyes shot open and she dropped her hand like it was on fire. Goosebumps lit up her arms and legs, despite the scorching water. Slamming the nozzle off, she threw back the curtains and began to dry off with furious gusto.

He was a vile creature. A feral beast. Not even human. The mere memory of his hands on her should be enough to appall her entirely. It must be delirium, she thought stubbornly, shaking the abhorrently traitorous images from her mind. She wrapped the towel around her head and strode towards the bedroom.

"I just need to go the fuck to sleep." Roxana muttered to herself and swiped the half-empty bottle of bourbon from the counter on her way. She collapsed onto the bed once she reached it, but sleep did not find her. Instead, she laid awake through the early hours of the morning, watching the ceiling fan spin on and on and on. She steadily knocked back the remainder of the liquor until the corners of her visions blurred and her eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

By the time the sun had risen in the sky, the bottle had rolled underneath her bed, long since emptied, and her light snores could be heard along with the chirping birdsongs. Fifolet patted over and curled up next to the woman, resting her paw gently on her outstretched arm and knowing that her human would be needing comfort now more than ever before.

—

The rest of the week flew by without any sort of batty drama and Roxana was grateful for it. She had a light workload with only two dinners scheduled and each went off without a hitch. All felt to be back to normal within her world. The weather wasn't comfortable yet, unfortunately, so she spent most of her free time relaxing at home. Not that she was using the cold as an excuse to stay inside and away from a certain someone. Nope, not a chance.

After that night, she had woken up with a righteous hangover and truly believed she had made up everything that had occurred in those twenty-four hours, but the textual evidence on her phone proved otherwise. Dracula had messaged her just once, to make sure she had made it home after their encounter, which she had to begrudgingly admit was rather sweet. Other than that, she was surprised to hear nothing more from the Count.

Roxana was cherishing the peace and quiet while she could. She knew that this whole interaction with Dracula was almost one-hundred-percent going to end up with her premature death. It wasn't hard to understand that hanging out with vampires and certain mortal peril basically went hand in hand. Not to mention the pesky fact about her being directly tied to a bloodline of women who had quite a lot to do with this ancient warlord and, spoiler alert, both of those women were killed...by him. So she intended to enjoy the calm before the storm.

Her phone went off next to her as she was boiling a pot of water for her own dinner and she saw an unknown number flash up at her.

"Hello?"

"Ah Miss von Hels, this is Keres Grimaldi. How I appreciate you taking the time as I am sure you must be terribly busy." The cold, feminine voice on the other line was not who Roxana had expected.

She blinked and then glanced around. The only plans she had this evening were drinking a bottle or two of wine, eating pasta, and watching some mind-numbing sitcoms. Yes, she was terribly busy. "Oh, no, not a problem at all. What can I do for you, Miss Grimaldi?"

"I would like to go over some of the details for this upcoming dinner." Keres' tone was icy and authoritative, leaving no room for nonsense or frivolous chatter. Roxana had a hard time imagining this woman throwing any sort of convivial party. "First, I believe you are aware of the delicate situation I am in, as head of the council, and the reason I chose your restaurant as the location once more is that I know that you will handle these delicacies with the same discretion you do with all of your soirees. Your clientele is famous and you appear to have the subtlety to maintain secrecy."

Roxana could not tell if this woman was being deliberately facetious or if she just always had the demeanor of a robotic bitch. Realizing very quickly that she wasn't about to get many words in, the chef put the phone on speaker and began to record the conversation so she could go back over it later to write the details down in her schedule. Work smarter, not harder. With a smile, she continued stirring the sauce as Keres plowed onward with her demands.

"The dinner will take place on the last Friday of the month, just two weeks before Mardi Gras. We shall be seating ten and you will provide meals for only five. It will be just you there and no other employees during the dinner, absolutely no exceptions."

"Okay, I'll have them leave before the clients arrive. You understand that includes my valet, right?"

"Yes, the transportation will be taken care of, therefore parking will not be an issue."

Strange, Roxana thought to herself while pouring the pasta into the strainer. "That works. Anything else? Dietary restrictions?"

As the words left her mouth, she winced and silence filled the room. It was a perfectly normal question under any other circumstance, but perhaps not this one.

"I noticed the other night that you seemed to be familiar with Mr. Balaur."

"I…um," She wasn't sure how she should answer the woman, "It was the first time I had met him, but I guess you could say we have mutual acquaintances."

"Miss von Hels, you are aware of his vampiric nature, are you not?" Well, Keres was certainly not tiptoeing around the subject.

"…Yes."

"Good, that's one less tedious explanation. I will provide the necessary dietary requirements, so you need not worry yourself over that. As for the mayor and his partners, you will want to contact them and decide on a menu that will suit their needs."

"Easy." She poured another glass of wine and took a long drink. "Anything else?"

The line was quiet for a moment and she had to check to make sure the call hadn't ended before Keres spoke up, "No, that will be all for now, Miss von Hels. Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for calling, Miss Grimaldi, I hope you have a great rest of your evening." Roxana really appreciated clients who were straight to the point, for it was often a headache to deal with indecisive people.

"One more thing," Keres' voice made her hand stop midway from pressing the end button, "Watch yourself around him. I've spent some time with Mr. Balaur in the last few years and I have never seen him look the way he did at you and this concerns me, not for your wellbeing of course, but for the future of our council. I will not have him go feral again, not under my watch, so if you know what is best for yourself, I would advise you to attempt to maintain a distance and use the utmost caution."

This caught Roxana off guard and her brows furrowed, "Then why are you having the dinner at Sanguine, if you are so concerned about this?"

Keres let out a laugh and it was anything but joyful. It lasted a beat too long for something that couldn't even be considered humorous and continued to send chills fluttering down Roxana's neck with a foreboding sense of danger.

"Oh, I know better by now than to try and take his toys away."

Taglist:

@festering-queen​ @vissidarte213​ @moony691​ @allis143​ @torntaltos​ @apocalypsenowish​

[damndaehyung]

Tyler Lee Must Die ll PT 1

Daniel Choi John Tucker Must Die Au

Prologue.

One.

“So i don’t suppose you are actually going to stick around this time? You know maybe have a sophomore slump on campus,” Emily said as she pulled at her garlic bread tearing it to tiny pieces, a nervous habit she had since she was a baby.

Daniel raised an eyebrow running a finger around the rim of his glass, “Emily you do a sophomore slump isn’t a good thing right? It usually means you didn’t do as good as your first attempt,” he frowned. “Surely my lovely baby cousin wouldn’t be suggesting that i would flop at an art degree,” he snorted. He joked about it but in all honesty, he wasn’t doing well with online learning, infact he was doing so bad that Caleb and Dongwoo had told him he’d would be missing out on the entirety of the Spring/Summer fashion season and Fall/Winter was up for discussion depending on his grades.

“No what i was hinting at was you staying on Campus so i have someone i know i can completely rely on,” Emily sighed, a small frown making its way onto her lips. “I know i should be able to handle it on my own and i have been, I made a bunch of new friends , even gotta job - in the cafe down the road,” she added. “It would just be nice to have -”

“Your favourite cousin here as well,” Daniel suggested with a grin. “Aww Emily you are such a cutie,” Daniel cooed. Emily’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and eyes narrowed.

“I take it back leave -” Emily huffed taking a bite of her garlic as threateningly as possible, which in Emily’s case was not very threatening at all. Daniel snorted, swirling his wine around before taking a sip, looking around the restaurant, nose scrunching up as he watched a guy kiss attack his girlfriends neck. Daniel scrunched his nose up, straight people - disgusting, he contemplated grabbing one of the rolls and tossing at them but thought better of it, it would be such a waste of bread.

“Oh you noticed Tyler Lee,” Emily said rolling her eyes. “Apparently he is a big deal,” she scoffed. Daniel smirked glad that Emily seemed to still find men disgusting, one good thing about him staying on campus would mean he could make sure she never grew to be interested in some good for nothing man.

“I mean with the way he is attacking that girls neck i can see why, it’s not every day you get to see a vampire in real life,” Daniel commented with an eye-roll. “How is it that I, a gay man, know more about woman erogenous zones, than that guy,” he said shaking his head.

“Well i get the feeling that her pleasure isn’t number one on his list,” Emily said. “And please never say erogenous zones again, you spent way too much money on this meal for me to vomit up because you decided to try and make me sick,” she joked.

“Erogenous zones,” Daniel said with a smirk. “If you want a tip the most pleasurable spot on a man is -” he started to speak before a piece of garlic bread landed in his hair. Daniel blinked owlishly pulling the piece of garlic bread out of his hair and glaring at Emily. “Seriously Em,” he shook his head.

Two.

“And who is that?” Daniel whispered to Emily nodding towards the shorter barista he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off. Emily swirled around to see whom he was talking about, one day he would talk to the girl about not been so obvious.

“Oh Sungjae,” she said raising an eyebrow at Daniel. “One of my new bosses so whatever you are thinking no -” she said seriously.

“Emily,” Daniel sighed dramitically, “What i am thinking would get you a promotion and a raise,” he commented wriggling at Emily, images of what he could do to Sungjae floated into his head, he liked what he saw a lot.

“Gross,” Emily said nose scrunching up. “And knowing you i’d be fired in a week if you actually got your way,” she huffed. “And really i thought M would be your type,” she said looking over to the other barista, he was indeed an attractive guy, those dimples he was flashing every customer was enough to make Daniel aww but the way Sungjae was putting down a frat boy who thought he was above lining up was more interesting, plus something about Sungjae was doing it for Daniel.

“I mean he is okay -” Daniel shrugged, “If they were up for a threesome i wouldn’t say no,” he said as Emily made a vomiting sound. “Look Emily, I won’t do anything too bad, I’ve been thinking having an actual boyfriend might be nice, just for a little bit, so is he single or -” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Emily said with a shrug. “No go find a booth, I gotta get back to work before just your mere presence gets me fired,” she said shoving him towards a free both. “Go,” she huffed.

“Fine, fine,” Daniel laughed. “Go make some money,” he said. Daniel wrinkled his nose opening the menu, eyes flickering across it. Maybe Emily will actually be nice and send Sungjae over to him to take his order.

He was broke out of his fantasy before very feminine giggles and a low moan coming from the both behind him. His eye twitched in annoyance why were hets so gross. He scoffed counting to ten in his kind normally he’d turn around give these people a piece of his mind but he didn’t want to cause a scene at Emily’s work. She’d never forgive him, plus he didn’t want his first interaction with Sungjae been him potentially getting thrown out of his cafe.

“Ty stop,” the girl giggled. Yes please Ty stop, Daniel didn’t want his ear to start bleeding. It seemed for a moment that “Ty” listened to his girlfriend because there was silence, beautiful wonderful silence that Daniel really should have appreciated more, until a loud groan and Ty proclaiming how much he loved it when his girlfriend spoke French. Daniel had never been more disgusted in a language in his life infact France as an entire nation had been wiped by him and that half of Canda that spoke that bastardized version of French.

Much too Danie’s relief Ty had suggested he and his partner ‘go somewhere more comfortable’, Daniel nose scrunched up in disgust but he supposed he should be thankful they were actually leaving. It seemed he was being rewarded for being a good cousin because he spotted his barista boy making his way over. It seemed this couple had something against him because by sneaking out of their booth had blocked Sungjae from getting to him. He glared at the couple getting a proper look at the guy, recognition hitting him, it was the wannabe vampire from the restaurant but the girl he currently had his arm wrapped around was not the same victim. He almost felt sorry for the girl, or he would have but given she had in a hand in causing Daniel’s temporary deafness and blocking him from meeting his new beau he felt no sympathy - some people were so selfish.

Three

“So you are really doing the whole college thing?” Joshua asked nose wrinkling in disgust as he sat on the edge of Daniel’s bed, Daniel hummed in acknowledgement as he riffled through all the ‘gifts’ he had received, designers had sent him the newest ‘ready to wear’ pieces in hoping he would become a walking billboard for them and Joshua had come bearing gifts to apparently mourn his career. “Why can’t you just sleep with a few professors like i did?” he asked laying back on Daniel’s bed.

“Because unlike you I have some standards,” Daniel snorted. “I take it this is from you?” he asked holding up a little black bag with the words for your pleasure on it.

“Since when?” Josh laughed. “And maybe, or maybe some designer really wants you to be their ‘muse’,” he said with a giggle. “But seriously Dae, you are doing this? I mean early morning classes? An ungodly amount of hoodies? Pretending to care about your schools pride?” Josh said disgust getting clearer with every word. “Babe there has to be a way out of this, i can’t let my best friend slash greatest rival go down this path,” he whined.

“How are you being a bigger sook about this than i am,” Daniel laughed. “I thought you’d be happy, maybe now you can finally get booked,” Daniel said earning a pillow to the face. “But really i will be fine, I’ll just go to class, hang out with Em and hopefully hook up with her cute boss,” he said with a grin.

“Hopefully hook up?” Josh questioned. “Since when do you have to hope to hook up? Oh god you’ve been here five minutes and your already losing sex appeal, next thing you’ll be telling me you’ve got a boyfriend and a cat -” he gasped. “No no,” he said shaking his head. “I can’t let this happen, c’mon lets get going we need to get you dicked down properly,” he said a determined look on his face.

“What you can’t do that yourself anymore,” Daniel teased climbing on top of him. “Oh that’s right you could never keep up with me could you,” he said leaning down so their faces were inches away from each other. “Joshie, your heart is racing and I can feel you against my thigh - you wanna tell me again how i lost my sex appeal,” Daniel whispered in Josh’s ear causing the shorter boy to throw him off him. Daniel winched landing with a thud, asshole.

“I hate you,” Josh pouted. “But seriously let's go out, I have some shopping to do and after that we can go out for dinner and then hit a club unless of course you’ve got some college frat party you want to go,” he said leaning down to look at Daniel, a shit eating grin on his face “Should i get you a snapback just incase.”

“Haha,” Daniel deadpanned, “And mock it all you want but you know i would look amazing in a snapback or beside a frat boy,” he huffed.

Josh shook his head, “The fact that you even said that proves that you desperately get out,” he said swinging his legs over. “I can’t have people know my old hook up is hanging out with frat boys, my reputation will be ruined,” he sighed dramatically.

“Your reputation, “ Daniel snorted. “Sweetie everybody knows exactly what you are like,” he said, causing Josh to roll his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, anyway let's get going, I am bored and way too hot too be stuck in your bedroom,” he said, leaping up. Daniel rolled his eyes biting back the truth which was he wasn’t hot enough to be in Daniel’s bedroom.

--

“Ugh it’s them,” Josh groaned with an eyeroll. Daniel downing his sake, gesturing vaguely for Joshua to continue. “The couple who thought they owned the La Perla store,” he huffed. Daniel scoffed in recognition, ah yes he remembered Joshua complaining about them, Joshua’s shopping included picking up some garter belts because apparently one of the many, many people he was seeing was into that and when he went to go get them a couple was treating the store like their personal property and having their own little fashion show. Daniel who choose to stay outside spent his time playing on his phone outside of the store and really could have lived without knowing any of it.

“Where?” Daniel asked. “And why do we care?” he said bored. The dinner had been going so well, The Araki, a wonderfully exclusive restaurant that focused on Japanese cuisine. It had them reminiscing off their times spent in Japan back when they were more friends then whatever they were now and now he choose to focus on a couple who couldn’t care less about him. “Oh do you want to join in? Make it a ménage à trois?” Daniel teased.

“He isn’t my type, I like pretty people,” Josh commented. “And over there,” he said barely nodding in the direction. Daniel raised an eyebrow pulling his phone out and making sure it was in selfie mood, in the corner of the screen and saw the couple Joshua had been referring to.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he placed the phone back down. Ofcourse it had to be him, Tyrion or whatever his name was. This was the third he had seen this guy out with his girlfriend and once again the girl was completely different from the previous. “Do you know him?” Joshua asked. “Please tell me you haven’t,” Joshua said. “Dae, that isn’t the barista is it because if so i don’t care what Cal says i am taking you with me,” he huffed.

“No, not exactly,” Daniel said. “And don’t compare Sungjae to that,” Daniel snapped. “No, apparently he is the college casanova,” he said rolling his eyes. “If you are finished we can just go, I seem to distinctly remember you mentioned something about going to a club to get me dicked down,” Daniel laughed. Joshua just grinned pretty much leaping up. “Let’s get you laid baby.”

four

“Look what i got,” Joshua said, bouncing over to Daniel, looking the very image of sin, blonde mused in every direction, lips swollen, neck littered in hickies, shirt hastily buttoned up and fly undone.

“An STD? Daniel said, raising an eyebrow taking a sip of his rum and coke, looking at him judgemental. The night that was supposed to be for him, had quickly turned to Joshua ditching him pretty much on arrival. Daniel couldn’t even enjoy his drink in peace though because despite being in the VIP lounge he had been hit on by several men and even a few women - none of which was his type. Looks like it would just be him and his hand tonight.

“Funny,” Joshua said with an eyeroll, sliding into the booth. “Apparently frat boys have a use after all,” he giggled holding up two baggies, one was obviously pot but the other was a bag full of tiny white tablets. Daniel’s eyes widened as harshly told Joshua to put them away. He wasn’t one of those ‘don’t do drugs’ kind of people, he himself had enjoyed a joint every now and then but that was it. He had told Joshua many times that he wasn’t interested in any hard drugs but the boy just rolled his eyes and told Daniel to stop being a baby.

“Joshua,” Daniel sighed. “Why would suddenly start trusting frat boys?” he asked.

“Well since one of them had a massive di-” he started before bursting out into a fit of giggles. “Don’t worry i already tested the products , it safe and its good really good,” he said sliding closer so he was practically on Daniel’s lap . “Don’t you wanna have some fun Dae?” he offered, hand reaching out and caressing Daniel’s face. Daniel shook his head seeing how bloodshot Joshua’s eyes were.

“Okay,” Daniel said causing the other boy to grin leaning forward, Daniel moved just in time to dodge Joshua’s kiss, instead the boy landed awkwardly on his jaw. “But first we have to get you some water, don’t want you passing out before we start do we?” he said as Joshua groaned but shook his head.

“Okay you stay here, you can be a good boy for me can’t you pretty?” he whispered into his friend’s ear, sliding out from underneath him.

Once he escaped Joshua’s grasp he made his way over to the bar, pushing past the mess of bodies on the dancefloor. He finally got to the busiest part of the club, the bar. Squeezing next to a couple who were pushed up against each other, giggling like stupid school kids.

“Hey what can i get you?’ One of the staff asked looking at Daniel before Daniel could respond. The couple pulled away from each other, the male letting out enough annoyed huff. Daniel turned to them, shaking his head as he saw who it was. Ofcourse it would be him, apparently all straight couple’s in the greater London area included Tyson or whatever his name. “Is there a problem?” the bartender asked.

“No,” the girl, notable a different one responded, two girls in one night - what a classy guy. “It’s just we had been waiting here for a while,” she said. Daniel had to bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that maybe the whole attached at the lips, hips and whatever other areas were intertwined together probably didn’t help out getting their drink.

“Right,” Daniel said , “Look, can I just get water and whatever this lovely couple is having infact double it,” he said before anyone could say anything else. The bartender nodded turning to the couple to ask what they are having before taking Daniel’s card and returning with it and a bottle of water a few seconds later before turning to make the couple their drinks. Daniel started to push away before the guy grabbed him, Daniel swore if he started some sort of i don’t need your charity or don’t buy drinks for my girls bullshit he would honestly lose it.

“Here,” he said shoving a few 50 pound notes into his hand. Daniel looked down,tempted to throw it on the floor but deciding he didn’t need an extra drama. He nodded quickly pushing past him and back to the VIP booth only to find Joshua making out with some guy.

Why does he even bother.

Fifth and last

“Was that that Typhoon guy and another girl?” Daniel asked incredolously as he saw Tyler sat on the campus greens with yet another girl. “It’s the fifth one, doesn’t he get tired?” he said. As M who offered to be his tour guide laughed. “Seriously does he have a magic dick? Why would all these girls waste their time on him?”

“Why does it bother you?” M asked raising an eyebrow. “Does young Daniel have a crush?”

“On that man?” Daniel asked before laughing. “Sweetie no ,i want to suck your bestfriend’s brain out through his dick, pretty sure Taylor isn’t my type,” he said bluntly ignoring the way M face contorted in disgust. “I am just confused, straight people make no sense, why would you want five girlfriends,” he said nose scrunching up at the mere thought.

“Well technically it’s only four girlfriends,” M said, “that we know off,” he shrugged. “But the girl he is currently sitting with his little sister, “ M supplied. “How they are related i will never understand, Tara is pretty cool while Tyler is -”

“A whore?” Daniel offered. “But still four girlfriends,” he shook his head.

“Yeah it’s pretty awful, he even has a whole system,” M said frowning. “He dates girls from different cliques because he knows they would never talk to each other,” M explained, how M knew this was not Daniel’s concern but he felt a brief respect for the Tybalt guy, he was creative. “And he tells them that if his mother finds out he is dating anyone she will tell the basketball coach to drop him, so they all keep it a secret,” M continued.

“And the believe that?”

“Love is blindness Daniel,” M laughed.

[snelbz]

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” for Rowaelin.

Emilee, my darling. Ask and you shall receive.

Two Missed Calls - Rowaelin High School AU

A drunk oneshot for @highqueenofelfhame.

Aelin knocked on the front door of the Whitethorn‘s home as she cracked open the door. “Hello?”

A bright, cheery voice answered her. “In the kitchen.”

She kicked her shoes off by the rack, her vans flopping on top of Rowan’s enormous cleats. She tossed her purse on the small bench by the door and rounded the corner into the living room. As she passed by, she gave Rowan’s cat, Snowie, a scratch under the chin. The cat, never having been the biggest fan of Aelin, immediately began to hiss at her. Aelin tossed a vulgar gesture at her and kept walking. As she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, she was hit by the smell of freshly baked banana bread.

“Okay, that smells amazing,” she said, sitting at the bar and propping her chin on her fist.

Rowan’s mother, Genevieve, turned around and gave Aelin a fond smile. “Well you may just find a loaf in your bag when you leave then,” she said. She turned back to her stove, a multitude of pots and pans in front of her. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Rowan’s parents owned the White Tail, a restaurant in downtown Orynth. Every single thing Genevieve made was delicious.

“Is that even a question? Of course,” Aelin replied.

“How did tryouts go?” Genevieve asked, moving to the fridge to grab the carton of heavy cream. “Anything exciting happen?”

It was Aelin’s senior year and she had been elected captain by her fellow cheerleaders and coach, which meant tryouts for the upcoming year were up to her.

She shrugged. “A few girls coming up from middle school could be a good addition to the JV squad. But yes, something exciting did happen.” The tone of her voice told Genevieve how unexcited Aelin was. She turned around and looked at her.

Aelin pulled her phone out of her pocket and slid it across the counter.

The screen was shattered, glass spiderwebbed across from top to bottom. As she pushed it, she could hear the faint tinkling on the marble as small pieces fell out.

Genevieve picked it up and looked at it. I looked like it had been run over by a truck. “Oh no, what happened?”

“Field goal practice,” Aelin said, deadpan.

Genevieve had to keep from laughing.

Aelin had made her frustrations about sharing a practice field with the football team clear many, many times. Especially to the captain of the football team’s mother.

“I’m sure Vaughn didn’t mean to,” she said, placing the ruined phone on the counter. She laugh quietly. “Lord knows that boy can hardly ever keep the ball between the posts, much less aim for your phone.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Okay, true. But I still have to go buy a new phone. These aren’t cheap and my parents are NOT going to be happy.”

Genevieve pursed her lips as she thought. With the same silver hair and shining green eyes, Aelin thought that Rowan was the spitting image of his mother, but even more so when she saw Genevieve make that face. She had grown up in the Whitethorn house, her family living across the street. She and Rowan had been best friends all of their lives, inseparable. When he tried out for football in 6th grade, she tried out for cheerleading so they could ride the bus together the to away games, neither of them realizing they’d found their callings.

As a junior, Rowan had been offered a full ride to the University of Terrasen, to play football. Aelin hadn’t received any offers yet, but her season wouldn’t start until the following fall. She did know that her coach had already reached out to a few schools on her behalf though, one of which was UT.

“Rowan’s old phone should be in his room, I think I saw the box sitting on his nightstand. Borrow that one until you can get a new one,” Genevieve said, smiling at her “other” child. Aelin remembered that the Whitethorn’s had just upgraded phones and thanked the gods her best friend’s mother loved her so much. “It was practically brand new anyways.”

She hopped out of her seat and ran around the counter planting a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “You’re the best!” She said, hugging her. She stepped back. “Speaking of Rowan, where exactly is your son? I expected to find him in here stuffing his face.”

Genevieve laughed. “You were about 5 minutes late for the ‘post practice face stuffing’. He went upstairs to his room. Go on. I’ll have some snacks ready for you guys in a few minutes.”

Aelin smiled at her warmly, grabbed an apple from the basket on the kitchen counter, and made her way back into the living room and took the steps two at a time. She stopped in front of Rowan’s closed bedroom door and knocked.

No answer.

“Open up, Buzzard, it’s me.”

Nothing.

She lightly knocked again and opened the door. She slipped in and said, “Rowan?” as she shut the door behind her with a soft click.

It was then that she could hear the shower running in his bathroom from the half open door. Her eyebrows rose as she realized she could see him in the reflection of the foggy mirror, his muscular back on full display.

Aelin started, watching the blurred form of him as he reached up and ran his hands through his wet hair, rinsing the shampoo out. She watched as squirted soap into his hand and began to watch his body. She tried not to watch, but couldn’t tear her eyes away as one hand pressed against the tile and the other dipped below her line of sight and stayed there for quite a few minutes.

The sound of the water shutting off spurred her into motion and she rushed to his nightstand. She didn’t see the box or the phone sitting on top, so she opened the drawers.

Her eyes roved over the condoms and Sports Illustrated magazines she saw (and knew there had to be some she was glad she didn’t see), until it fell on the phone sitting in the corner. She picked it up and tried to turn it on, bumping the drawer closed with her hip. It was dead, so dead that not even the battery indicator popped up to tell her it was dead. She grabbed the charger off the floor by his bed and plugged it in, sitting down. After a minute, the screen came to life, a white apple on a black background shining back at her.

“Holy sh- you just scared the shit out of me, Aes.”

Rowan’s voice caused Aelin to jerk her head up.

He was standing in the bathroom door way, wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Her mouth dried out and she couldn’t remember how to speak or even her own name. She could only stare.

“I didn’t know you were coming over,” he said, crossing to his dresser and grabbing clothes. “You never texted me. I called you twice.”

Aelin cleared her throat. “Yeah, that’s because my phone is destroyed. Tell Vaughn thanks for me, by the way.”

“Oh, shit, that was your bag that got hit?”

“Yep.” She sighed. “So your mom said I could use your old phone, I just need to get it booted up and reset it.”

He whirled, so quickly that it surprised Aelin. His eyes immediately locked onto the phone in her lap. “Uh,” he stammered. “You can’t- You cant use my old phone. It’s…broken.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “It’s not broken and you and I both know it. I’ll be careful with it, I promise.”

With that, Aelin looked down to see it had booted up and only needed to be unlocked.

She typed the 4 digits Rowan used for everything into the keypad as she heard him say, “Aelin, please, don’t-.”

The world went silent. Aelin wasn’t moving. Rowan wasn’t speaking. The white noise of the ceiling fan even sounded distant.

The phone had unlocked to a nearly empty page, only a few apps across the top and bottom. And she was looking at a picture of herself, taken at one of her competitions.

“Aelin, let me-.”

“Am I your lockscreen?” She asked, eyes darting up to him, his clothes balled up in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

And once again, Aelin was noticing Rowan’s handsome face. The way the evening sunlight made his emerald eyes sparkle. His killer body. The way his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth.

The way she wanted to pull that lip between her own.

She set the phone on the night stand and stood, crossing the room to where Rowan stood in front of the dresser.

“Why am I your lockscreen, Rowan?” She whispered, inches away from him, the scent of him, freshly showered, heady and distracting.

His eyes flicked from her hers to her lips and back. “Because you’re the last thing I like to see before I go to bed and the first thing I want to see when I wake up.”

A soft gasp left Aelin as his hand rested on the back of her neck and he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. He stepped back and she stood there, shock written across her face. He patiently waited for her to do something, not wanting to make another move until she’d made hers.

With no warning, she threw herself on him, arms going around his neck and the clothes balled up in his hands forgotten as one dove into her hair and the other wrapped around her waist. He leaned back against the dresser pulling her closer to him and it was only when he felt her warm hands on his bare chest that he remembered he was only wearing a towel. He stepped back and cleared his throat, glancing down at his body, at the same time Aelin did, and he watched as a smirk formed on that gorgeous face.

It was in that moment that Genevieve knocked on the door, saying “Ro, Aelin? I have snacks for you!”

Rowan grabbed his clothes off the floor and dashed into the bathroom as Aelin fought off the urge to laugh out loud.

It was in that moment, she decided senior year might be fun after all, especially if she had Rowan Whitethorn by her side.

[ecofinisher]

Off to Rust - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137411/chapters/60537829

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13415645/12/Off-to-Rust

https://www.wattpad.com/912877915-off-to-rust-chapter-12

The next morning Adrien leaned on the wall looking at his smartphone on his profile at posted images of his friends, while the rest of the class were sleeping. The door next to him opened up and Kagami got out, then Adrien placed his phone back and the two walked together out of the room and walked the corridor along.

“Did you sleep well tonight?” Adrien asked earning a nod from Kagami.  

“Really good” Kagami answered. “What about you?”

“Also good” The blonde responded, then the two arrived at the elevator, where a bellhop came out pulling a small cart with suitcases on it and Adrien extended his arms out at the entrance to sign the friend to get in first making her smile and enter, followed by the blonde.

“Thanks,” Kagami said watching Adrien press the EG button, then the two stood beside each other watching the elevator close its door.

“Remember the week I left with my father to a photoshoot at one of Europe’s largest shopping malls?” Adrien asked earning a nod from the girl. “They had these elevators with only the doors and alarm buttons on the inside and you had to press for the level you had to go on the outside”

“Well that’s different”

“Yeah, it’s kind of complicated, when more people are around and need to wait longer when certain elevators don’t stop where they want,”

“Sounds weird. I never saw that”

“Well, that’s almost a year ago, maybe I got it wrong saved in my head. But I remember the buttons on the outside”

“Alright,” Kagami answered, then the elevator opened the door and the two headed out making their way to the restaurant to the buffet, where people were getting their breakfast together.

“I’m going to get myself Muesli, some cereals, cheese and some orange juice” Adrien mentioned ribbing his hands together making Kagami chuckle at his big lust of food in the morning.

“I’ll be fine with Muesli” Kagami responded. “That’s quite delicious”

“Yeah, it is” Adrien agreed standing behind the queue with Kagami looking at the two kids in front of them getting themselves cereals.

“If you want I can already take you some cereals” Kagami suggested making Adrien shrug his shoulders, then both moved forward as the queue went further, then as Adrien had been in line together with the blue-haired girl he reached for the jug and she grabbed it first, followed by Adrien grabbing her on the top of her hand widening his eyes in surprise at the coincidence. Adrien grinned abashed at the situation, while Kagami smiled amused at his reaction, then he took his hand down and let Kagami put the cereals on his bowl and she gave the bowl back to him earning a soft smile of the blonde. Kagami moved on, then Adrien followed her and stopped to pick up the muesli mixture with the yogurt and various types of cut fruit and moved on passing by Kagami close to the buffet with the various types of cheese and raw meat and Adrien looked behind him for anyone to be looking at him, then he opened his jacket for Plagg to look out at the amount of cheese, afterward, he rolled his tongue out drooling at the sight of the large variations of milk products, then Adrien picked a fork and picked out one of each sort up onto a plate he took from a pile next to the buffet.

“You’re the best Adrien,” Plagg said making the blonde smile, which continued and stopped behind Kagami, which was at the fruit buffet trying to find a fruit she wanted to take.

Adrien heard a child applauding, then he looked across the room to see a man carrying on his two arms five plates to the table where his wife, two kids and the clapping infant were giving Adrien an idea, then he adjusted his muesli bowl on his right hand, then added his cheese plate over the bowl at his thumb and his small finger then moved his arm a little to check the safety and raised his free arm in victory. Adrien went behind Kagami, which took onto her plate a slice of bread and looked through the round Étagère and picked out a honey-flavored cream out and she looked back to see Adrien carrying the plates differently.

“Nice” Kagami mentioned, then Adrien moved his free hand signaling her to give him out her plate. “Okay” She gave him her one plate with the muesli and had only the one with the apple and bread on it.

“Put your last plate over the fingers here,” Adrien asked making Kagami crease her eyebrows a little worried about his idea.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’ll do fine,” Adrien said, then Kagami added carefully her plate over Adrien’s fingers, then he walked along with her towards the table, then he slowed down as on his right hand his cheese plate began to move.

“Do you need help?” Kagami asked watching Adrien shake his head, moving further to the table, then Kagami observed him approach the table, then he stopped at the table to figure out how to put all the four plates down.

“Well, I forgot how that guy did that” Adrien mentioned watching Kagami take the fourth plate down.

“Come you can do those three,” Kagami said watching Adrien place Kagami’s muesli in front of the table and at the same moment the cheese plate on his arms felt down and Adrien tried to catch it, but failed.

“Didn’t go the way I expected” Adrien said placing his muesli down on the table, then he went down to pick up the cheese along with the help of Kagami. “Sorry, I had found this move fascinating and wanted to show it to you, but it’s not as easy as it looked like”

“I found it cute, that you tried it out” Kagami mentioned dropping the cheese bits along with Adrien on the plate. “You just need to know how to hold your balance with them and you will make it well”

“Exactly” Adrien agreed, then he got up along with her and he pulled out quick a chair for Kagami to sit down, making Kagami shake her head playfully at Adrien’s gentleman behavior, then she sat down on the chair and Adrien took the seat in front of her.

“I can’t believe today is our last day here at the park” Kagami mentioned. “And we haven’t managed to see all of it”

“I know” Adrien agreed. “I still want to visit the great one in silver,”

“The one going around the park?” Kagami asked earning a nod from the blonde. “I believe you”

“So far I know only around three or four attractions are missing. Until the end of our day, probably around 5 pm or otherwise, Mr. D’Argencourt says something else we will have visited them too. Eventually, we might be able to repeat one or two”

“We will have to see it when the others are here too”

“Yes and while they’re up there, we’ve got enough time to breakfast together and chat until they get ready too” Adrien mentioned earning a nod from Kagami, then both began to eat and Adrien observed Kagami eating and his kwami pulled the blonde on the shirt and pointed at the girl, making Adrien wide his eyes at Plagg’s signal. “Kagami, when we’re back in Paris…..what would you say, if someone like a good friend of yours wanted to go out with you to I don’t know….a an evening at the cinema or a picnic as an example. What would you say?” Adrien asked making Kagami titter shortly at his question.

“You’re asking me out on a date?” She asked making Adrien shrug his shoulders.

“Well, it’s not necessarily a date, unless you want to?” The blonde responded, making the girl smile and place her hand in the middle of the table.

“I’d love to go out with you” Kagami answered. “Even if we got the strictest parents in the world we’ll find a way or another to have one”

Adrien smiled and placed his hand on Kagami’s making her smile, then he slowly leaned his head forwards going in for a kiss, then someone screamed shrieking Adrien and Kagami, which looked to the direction of the scream to spot on the ground Adrien’s kwami Plagg look at the woman in shock as she had noticed him. Plagg sat down on the floor like a cat and meowed.

“Where did that cat come from?” Kagami asked making Adrien shrug his shoulders, then Plagg disappeared under the table.

“I will take care of this cat ma’am. It’s just a kitten” Adrien mentioned.

“It looks like a rat!” The woman complained about it with a disgusted face, then Adrien got under the tablecloth to catch Plagg nibbling on a bit of cheese.

“Plagg, are you crazy?”

“I was for two seconds on the ground and that woman decided to scream her lungs out calling me a rat” Plagg complained. “Do I look like a rat to you?”

“Of course not” Adrien mentioned. “Come we have to pretend, that I’m getting you out of here before someone of the staff does it”

“Okay” Plagg answered, then Adrien moved his head out of the table and got up.

“I’m going to bring this kitten out of here” Adrien mentioned picking the plate with the cheese, then walked out of the restaurant at the corridor and entered into the first door, which was a laundry room. “Okay we’re safe,” Adrien said. “I just wonder, if there’s a light”

“Maybe next to the door” Plagg mentioned, then Adrien searched at the door for the light, then someone opened the door and Adrien turned on the light and shut his eyes wide as he spotted Kagami there looking at him bewildered.

“Uh…..” Adrien gazed at the girl confused while Plagg floated beside the blonde looking at the girl too.

“What’s up?” Plagg asked making Kagami furrow her eyebrows at the comment, then Adrien pulled Kagami into the laundry room and closed the door behind them.

“Is that a kwami?” Kagami asked, then Adrien placed his index finger in front of Kagami to shush her followed by watching her turn a little pink on her cheeks.

“You won’t tell that anyone, right?” Adrien asked earning a nod from the blue-haired girl. “Yes, this is my kwami Plagg. I’m the one, that is hidden under Cat Noir’s mask and I also know, that you know about kwamis, at least about Longg,”

“Well I had noticed during the times I saw you fighting as Cat Noir and the times we fenced together how alike your fighting style was and the jokes you two make. I had no doubts that you could be him, otherwise, it could also be a coincidence”

“You were right all along” Adrien pointed out. “Why did you follow me actually?”

“I had the feeling you may have needed help if it really was a kwami, so I followed you so I could help you out, when necessary”

“We’re fine for now. I managed to get out of there and I think no one else saw him” Adrien explained, then he heard Plagg burp after he ate a few cheese bits from the plate. “But hey it’s great, that you know about my other life. You know how hard it is to keep things to yourself you can’t talk with no one else besides Plagg? I mean some things are fine, others Plagg can’t really help me out, cause he’s not familiar with them,”

“I believe you that” Kagami answered making Adrien smile, then behind them the door opened and a hotel manager appeared and shrieked as she caught Adrien there with Kagami, which noticed the woman there.

“Oh, you caught me overeating cheese” Adrien pretended to be shocked at Kagami being there with him, making the woman furrow her eyebrows bewildered at the blonde’s behavior.

“Oh, what a pity. What if we didn’t have your medicine?” Kagami asked. “You’d be having issues with your digestion,” Kagami said grabbing him by the arm guiding him out while carrying the plate, then the woman entered into the room and the two friends looked back to see the woman was gone.

“Well played” Adrien complimented. “Thanks for the save”

“That’s what friends are here for” Kagami responded. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to know how you feel about your second part of your life. But just if you want to say it, I’m okay if you think you should keep that for yourself”

“When we’re alone or away from here I’d like to tell you some stories, if you’d like to” Adrien answered, then noticed the twins enter into the restaurant along with Jean, then Adrien pointed it out to Kagami, which nodded. “They’re here”

“We could already discuss, where to go together when the park opens up” Kagami mentioned earning a nod from the blonde and both disappeared into the hall of the restaurant to meet up with the other boys of the fencing class.

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

The Superheroes Against The Storm- Chap. 1

well, I say chapter one but we’ll see about that

A/N: i’m back after vacation, and I’ll be gone for maybe the next month or so bc I won’t have any internet, so i thought i’d post this now, and make an actual plan for the story later.

Pairings: Eventual Logicality, I write nothing else apparently, and eventual Prinxiety but it’s not in this chapter. Platonic everything else, but we’ll see about that.

Word Count: Who even knows at this point, ‘cause I certainly don’t

Warnings: maybe a lil’ angst, I’m not really sure what classifies as angst anyway, and some sort of sexual jokes, and you can thank Remy for that

Summary: Logan has been noticing weird things popping up on his computers, so he decides to go ask Patton what they may mean. It eventually spirals out of control into a big mess, with some superpowers thrown in.

The day was bright and shining when Logan Wright made his way down the ruined gravel path that lead to the small house with the big backyard- or, well, the entire forest.

Logan hadn’t really meant to wait so long to go back to visit, but work had been consuming all his time, with meetings and the launching of new projects, and he hadn’t had a lot of time to even think of visiting family, let alone friends.

Ironically, here he was, about to knock on the door (with vine growing on it, he noticed) when it was work that brought him here. He observed the dark wooden door, (that had four symbols carved into the center, one for each element; fire, air, water and earth. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for the people of the towns close and far to refer to it as the “House of the Elements”) and took a deep breath, before knocking on it three sharp and clean times.

As he waited patiently for the owner of the house to open the door, he could hear someone stumble, something crash, and multiple exclaims of ‘oh sorry!’ from the other side of it. How comedical, he thought. A rare smile tugged at his lips, as he recounted how careless about his space and clumsy the other had been throughout the years of their friendship.

Eventually (after more crashes and sorrys) the door opened to reveal a frizzled and short man, who admittedly looked like he’d been in a fight with a cat, and from what Logan remembered (and oh, he remembered) this wouldn’t have been his first time.

The man uttered out another apology about taking so long to open the door while he brushed the dust off from his shirt, until he looked up and saw who had been knocking.

“Logan!” The man threw his hands around his unexpected visitor to hug him, nearly knocking his breath out.

“Ah, Patton,” Logan said as soon as he was released. Patton smiled brightly at him. “I see your hugs are still as bone-crushing as usual.”

“It’s the only way to go!” Patton answered, still beaming. “And I see you’ve got your hold on a couple ways of saying?” Logan adjusted his glasses slightly.

“I’ve been practicing.” Patton chuckled slightly before inviting him inside.

---

“So,” Patton said, voice chirpy as always as he put two cups of tea down on the table. “Any reason for the sudden visit?” 

There was a reason indeed, but Logan didn’t want to start that conversation yet. But, then again, there was a heavier question lingering in the air, why did you wait a year? 

He didn’t know, or better he knew, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so he went with his first option.

“Well, you see, I have observed some interesting patterns that the computers have been picking up lately,” Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“And why would you come to me for help?”

“Well,” Logan said while passing a piece of bread to the deer that had entered the house while they had been talking. From where, you ask? Probably the hole in the wall that lead directly to the, ahem, backyard. Saying Patton was in tune with nature was an understatement. Which was the main reason Logan had decided to ask Patton for help instead of the other, much more dramatic option. “This is much more your area of knowledge than mine really.”

“The elements?”

“Your elements, Patton.” The man in question chuckled.

“Alright then, let’s see what you’re talking about.” Logan pushed a little black box onto the table. He pressed a little button on the side of the box and a hologram popped up. Numerous images and videos of plants and animals were displayed on the holographic screen. They didn’t have many things in common, but one thing was persistent in all of them- they were all deformed. Patton bit his lip as he scrolled through the pictures. Sure he didn’t know the animals, but they were technically connected to him, so he still felt pitiful. “They look like something straight out of a radiation plant.” He said, still looking at picture after picture (and silently praising himself for the pun.)

“Indeed, but,” Logan said, clicking the box again. The screen changed to display a bird’s eye view of the city. “They’re not. They’re all from the city, which is highly unusual since it is a low radiation site.” He clicked again, and the screen displayed large circles around certain buildings in the city. “I’ve tracked down the places these pictures were taken in or close to, and they seem to center around these buildings.” He pointed at the state bank and an old warehouse. “And some lower concentration at these points.” He pointed at the museum, an old apartment complex, and the biggest park in the city.

“I see,” Patton said, as Logan clicked the box again to turn it off. “So, what do you want me to do with it?”

Logan looked Patton in the eye. Now or never, he thought. “I- well, I need your help to figure out what is causing these, um, peculiar instances.” Patton offers him a kind smile. “Perhaps we should look into this further back at the laboratories?” Patton gasped and clapped excitedly.

“It’s gonna be just like back in highschool!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say so, those were sleepovers,” Logan said following behind Patton as the latter started running around the house picking up everything he needed. “This is strictly a business trip.”

Patton hummed happily as he threw his clothes into a duffle bag. “Seems the same to me!”

Logan smiled slightly and went to pick up his coat as the other finished packing (If he left anything, he could probably ask a bird or a deer to bring it to him, although he didn’t quite like asking the animals to do things like that for him. They could get hurt!, he’d always say.)

“How are the animals going to respond to you leaving?” Logan asked once both him and Patton were in his car.

“Oh, well, I haven’t left for a while, for, well, a while,” Patton giggled slightly. “But I’m sure they’re gonna be okay, they’re strong enough to make on their own.”

Logan nodded slightly and pulled out of the gravel driveway, with one question on his mind, but what about you? 

However, he remained quiet as Patton hummed along to the radio.

It was late into the night when they finally arrived at the Wright laboratories, and Patton had dozed off long before. Logan was debating whether to wake him up or leave him be when Patton’s eyes fluttered open as he yawned.

“We’re here?” He asked while rubbing his eyes. His big round glasses were askew and his blond curls were a mess. He looked, admittedly, adorable, and maybe Patton held a little truth, because it did sort of feel like high school again.

“Yes, and it looks like Remy is awake.” Logan said, pointing at the only lit window in the building.

Patton blinked tiredly up at the building. “Remy? As in,” a yawn. “Remy Wake?”

Logan opened the door and rounded the car to get Patton’s bag. “As much as it is ironic, it is him.”

“I haven’t heard from him, since, what? College?” Patton said, following Logan inside the building. “I sort of miss our little friend group, you know? We had so many adventures.”

“If you count having to drag Remy away from a party because he’s about to blackout from drinking too much is an adventure, then I guess we did.” Logan answered as he walked into the elevator, a giggling Patton in toe.

“I mean, you have to admit that it was fun to hear him ramble on about every guy we walked by.”

“If by fun you mean terribly embarrassing, then I agree.” Patton laughed again.

“Has his personality changed?” Logan sighed and stepped out of the elevator into his giant office.

“You’ll see for yourself-”

“Finally, babes! You took so long I thought you were already snogging in the car!” The man, the myth, the legend, Remy Wake himself said from his spot on the couch, clad with full sunglasses and starbucks coffee. Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose as he and Patton blushed.

“This is what I meant.” Patton laughed and went over to hug the living daylights out of Remy.

“Ah, Pat, babe, it’s great to see you again!” Patton sat down next to Remy on the couch.

“You too Rem! It’s been so long. But, uh, not to be rude, what are you doing here?” Patton asked. Remy raised an eyebrow as Logan sat down on the chair across from them. He pushed down his glasses and looked at Logan over them.

“You haven’t told him yet?” Logan shook his head. “Ah, well. After you, uh, left,” Patton rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Logan, me and the others finished uni and other companies were already trying to snatch this guy for themselves,” He pointed at the man himself, Logan. “But, since he’s stubborn as fuck,”

“Language!” 

“He decided to make his own company, and me, being the great friend that I am,” Remy gave Logan a pointed look.

“Remy you are possibly the worst worker in this laboratory,” Logan said, matter-of-factly.

“The worst worker with a PhD in physics?” Remy challenged.

“The worst worker that sleeps on the job?” Logan shot back. Patton chuckled and told them to calm down.

“Anyway, as I was saying before I was interrupted so rudely,” Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I decided to start working in the company and here we are now!”

Patton looked utterly impressed. “I move away for a couple years and this happens.”

“You know it, hun,” Remy stood up and adjusted his leather jacket. “But I think I’m gonna head out now.” He picked up his bag and coffee, and headed for the elevator. “Have a fun night you two!” He called out. Goddamnit, Remy, Logan thought.

Eventually, they were so tired that they fell asleep on the couch not much later.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Grinch Who Stole New Year

You no longer like Christmas, you love Christmas. But perhaps it was still your heart that grew three sizes before the end of the year.

guardiandemon!Jimin x reader

genre: slice of life, supernatural, fluff, comedy

word count: 4.4k

A/n: You know me, I never get stuff out on time LOLL But to make up for it, I tried to do a mash up of the two big holiday/season into this one drabble. Hope everyone’s had a great holiday and a happy New Year! 2019, let’s get this bread. Forewarning; it’s half unedited so....asfsdkgh

 December 31st

 “You look awfully happy.” Jaehee comments from the kitchen threshold. You glance up only briefly, not bothering to hide the dopey, wide smile you currently have. It makes Jaehee laugh before she asks, “Is it the guy you told me about?”

 You sputter, nearly knocking out the lone ear bud you’re wearing with how you jostle your laptop to indignantly squawk, “As if!” You take a hold of your laptop and turn it just slightly to show her your paused screen, cooing affectionately as you say, “It’s my boys.”

 “Oh.” She drags out the sound and rolls her eyes playfully, “Should’ve known.”

 You grin back at her before continuing where you left off. Curled up on the sofa with the fluffiest blanket, sipping one of your favourite white wines, you’re watching your copy of BTS’ Seasons’ Greetings 2019 on your laptop. Sure buying it might’ve put a rather large dent in your wallet but in your defense, it was deemed to be your Christmas present to yourself. Plus, in your opinion, it’s worth every penny. 

 “So what happened to the guy then? Did you ghost him or something?” Jaehee calls out again, coming to settle on the other end of the sofa where your feet haven’t reached.

 “Oh… him.” You reply offhandedly, paying more attention to the conversation the group was having on screen but at the thought of…. him, you can’t help the snort that comes out of your mouth that isn’t entirely because of BTS’ antics.

 Oh, Jimin…. Well, your demon version of Jimin…. 

 You can’t say you feel completely sorry for him because ever since the season to be jolly had crept closer and closer, he had become more and more like a mixture between the Grinch and Grumpy Cat and while it should’ve made you a little apprehensive of his temper, you were absolutely loving it.

 -

 12 days before Christmas

 “On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” You find yourself singing as you work on stringing the Christmas lights up so that they frame your living room windows. You stand back to admire your handy work, still humming the song and you can’t help the giddy wiggle when you see how perfectly the lights twinkle in rhythm.

 “You bought more lights?” A begrudging voice sounds from within the darkened depths of your room. You turn and the grouchy mood your room invader has does nothing to dampen your own high-spirited one. In fact, his appearance looks too much like a certain grumpy house cat that even his glowing ruby eyes doesn’t detract the image. It makes you choke back a giggle, which seems to make him bristle (much to your delight).

 “Don’t you know that you can never have enough lights?” You make show of reprimanding him as if you’re an over-enthusiastic grade school teacher, hands on either side of your hip and head slightly tilted. He glares harder at you and you think this is the perfect chance to rub it in his face more. “And guess what else I got?”

 You whirl around to reach into your shopping bag and pull out your two additional purchases, shaking them excessively in both hands with excitement and a shit-eating grin stretching so wide you feel your cheeks starting to hurt. “Santa hats!” And they’re not just any old, normal looking ones. They’re red sequined and they jingled.

 “You’re disgusting.” is your only response before he promptly slams the door shut to your room. But you can’t be bothered, too busy cackling to yourself from his reaction. You’re honestly living for how much your demon guardian is loathing the holiday season. Before, you can barely get him to stop popping up at the most inconvenient times, claiming it to be ‘watch duty’ (when really it’s just to annoy you and give you a heart attack for his own amusement) but ever since Christmas started to loom around the corner, he’s gone reclusive, avoiding the outside world like the black plague was on the loose. 

 Needless to say, you were ecstatic. You could finally meet up with your friends without having to look over your shoulder or become too distracted because he thinks it’s funny to do outrageous things under the invisibility spell (you’ll never forget the time he decided to make balloon animals two seats away from you, all the while keeping the most stoic face you’ve ever seen). 

 So it’s no surprise that you’ve decided to take full advantage of this new discovery, going to lengths you never had before in a way to get back at him. To be honest, you weren’t even that big on Christmas, doing the bare minimum in the past to celebrate the holiday but thanks to him, you’ve gone all out in the decorating department and it only seems to fuel your enthusiasm (so no, you wouldn’t call it being completely petty; just more festive).

 A most wonderful time of the year indeed.

 You toss the Santa hats onto the couch, taking the moment to step back and admire your entire setup. The tree was up and filled with ornaments on nearly every branch you can hook, standing in a corner by the sofa, blinking prettily with it’s many lights, complete with a faux fur lined tree skirt. More lights were pinned just above the sofa and along the small bookshelf while garlands and wreaths were placed on your front door, above the kitchen threshold and the railing outside of your entryway. The magazines on your coffee table were tucked underneath in favour of the poinsettia candle-holder centrepiece, complete with faux self-lit candles.

 And although you don’t have a fireplace, it didn’t deter you from buying stockings to hang just below the TV stand (I mean, if you turn on the fireplace channel, it could still work right?)

 Overall, you’re quite happy with your little home makeover. Your place looks exceptionally decorative and you get a kick out of annoying your demon house cat for once. Two birds with one stone.

 -

 2 days before Christmas

 “What is that?”

 “What’s what?” You ask innocently, biting your lip to hold back a snicker as you pretend to busy yourself in fixing the holly you’ve got in your hands. You can practically feel the temperature drop behind you from the sofa but you’re perfectly warm in your oversized ugly Christmas sweater.

 “That!” He hisses. You spare him a glance but his gaze is so fixated on the little ceramic figurine on the coffee table that you actually think he might set it aflame.

 “It’s Mary and Joseph and the newborn king, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; gosh I thought you of all beings would know them?” You flippantly reply, having to turn away again to hide the smile that’s starting to creep up on your lips. 

 “I do but I also know for a fact that you’re not even Christian. So why do you have this here!?" 

 “Jesus loves everybody and it’s not exactly them, it’s a very abstract depiction of them. And besides, it’s a nice candle holder that says Noel so calm down.” 

 You hear angry muttering and then a huff, making you sneak a peek only to nearly burst out laughing at the pout he’s sporting. You have to admit, it’s adorable but only because he looks like Jimin. He turns to you and you can’t help the corner of your mouth from twitching. Your Jimin clone raises a finger, pointing at you as his expression turns accusatory, comically so.

 “You did this on purpose.” 

 “Did what?” Your voice comes out in a higher pitch because you’re trying so hard not to laugh but also because you’re clearly lying through your teeth.

 “All of this!” He finally exclaims, like his week long pent up frustration is coming to head. “I can’t believe you would go along with the capitalism of this holiday, just to get back at me!” 

 “You’re a demon! I thought you’re supposed to encourage this sort of thing?”

 “There are many things I encourage…and this is definitely not one of them!” 

 “Oh c’mon, don’t act like you totally hate the holiday season; I’m not the one sneaking gingerbread cookies at two in the morning."

 A pause.

 And you smirk; gotcha.

 Yeah, there was no way you wouldn’t have noticed that every time you decided to bake some holiday treats (for the household and your workplace), the portion left for home would mysteriously disappear at an alarming rate. You knew for sure you didn’t eat any because you literally had your fill when they were fresh out of the oven. Jaehee didn’t really like gingerbread cookies nor sweets for that matter but she indulged you and had the bare minimum.

 So doing the math for that wasn’t too hard and if the deep crimson blush Jimin had on was anything to go by….

 “So what? I had like two…” He says defensively, crossing his arms. You let a snort go, turning back around to fiddle with the fake holly berries. 

 “Sure…whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 “Demons don’t really sleep.”

 “Ugh, you know what I mean.” You roll your eyes, finishing up and stalking back towards the kitchen again. “Anyways, I’m gonna go make some cookies since someone keeps eating all of them before I can leave any out for Santa.”

 “He’s not even real!”

 “I don’t want to hear it!”

 Safe to say that your chewy chocolate chip cookies turned out fantastically, you think they’re good enough to open your own bakery even. Once the tray cooled, you take three for yourself and a glass of milk, heading back into your room. You take a quick a glance in the living and find that your demon guardian has vanished. You shrug, kicking open your door and get settled in for a little movie night in bed.

 The next morning, you find the tray more than half empty.

 “Oh wow, chocolate chip cookies. You should really open up a shop, Y/N. You’ve got a knack for baking.” Jaehee comes up from behind you, peering over your shoulder. “Why’d you make so little? Just had a craving last night?”

 “Yeah…” was the only thing you can say in utter disbelief.

 That bastard.

 He could’ve saved you some to last the week.

 -

 Christmas Day

 Oh boy, you probably should not have drank that much. You’re regretting it deeply now as you stumble up the stairs after thanking your Uber driver and wishing them a happy holiday. The Christmas party your friend held was super fun, something that wasn’t too rambunctious like a frat party even though you're totally sloshed right now. It was a gathering of close friends and their dates but friends who definitely know how to party. The night started off rather tamed with the exchange of presents and pleasantries in catching up, eating and light drinking before the games started. 

 That’s when the drinks started pouring because games are fun but they’re even more fun when alcohol is involved (and anything can be turned into a drinking game if you tried hard enough). Coupled that with your fairly low tolerance and it’s no surprise that you’re about ready to fall asleep in the closest corner you can find. But no, you’re a trooper and you held on, even when Jaehee (who was no less sober than you), insists on going home with you. So after ordering you an Uber she deemed trustful (cancelling around five of them), she saw you off, not without demanding that you text her when you’ve arrived safely at home.

 You’re almost inside, fumbling with your keys and checking thrice to make sure it’s the right one before slotting it into the keyhole. As the door opens, you let out a loud noise of relief like you’ve just finished a marathon.

 “Goddammit….” You slur to yourself as you shut your door and nearly topple over in removing your boots. You fling them off after finding your balance on the wall, heaving yourself to the living room where you promptly collapse onto the couch, energy spent. Your head is pounding already as if your hangover is beginning to form even before your body has a chance to sleep it off but you still have so much to do; take off your jacket, text Jaehee, change your clothes, wash your makeup off, brush your teeth, drink some water, the list was endless but all your body and inebriated mind wants to do is to close your eyes and just rest here for a bit because this couch was so comfy…man, investing in those throw pillows and blankets sure was a good ide—

 “I don’t remember letting in a hobo.” 

 Through your curtain of hair, you blearily make out a shadow looming over you. Tossing your head back a bit more, you find an infuriatingly handsome face staring down at you, one that you want to punch but kiss at the same time.

 “Jimin…?” 

 “Yes, but not quite darling.”

 You frown, muddled mind sifting through information like dial up Internet before you make a noise of affirmation. “Not Jimin…English too good.” 

 You hear a breathy laugh as your heavy head lops to one side, too tired to hold it up any longer. A clicking sound, the kissing of teeth in a way you can only imagine a mother would do when scolding her child.

 “Someone’s indulged a little too much in the blood of Christ.” 

 In your head, you think you’ve formed words that sound something like ‘You don’t even like Christmas’ but in reality, it comes out half way before dying in a mumbling, incoherent mess. Your head continues to pound to the rhythm of your heart and as you close your eyes, trying to will it to go away, you very nearly drift off when you feel a tug at your arm. You make an attempt to swat at it but fail miserably, giving up because you don’t have the energy to care.

 “I don’t get paid enough for this….” You faintly hear as you’re suddenly lifted into strong arms and the familiar scent of vanilla and lavender invades your nose.

 “Mm…So strong…” You giggle drunkenly, head burying against the soft cashmere sweater he’s wearing. A groan rumbles against your ear before you’re unceremoniously dumped onto the fluffy comforter of your bed. You whine loudly at being jostled, blindly rolling to your side in an attempt to sit up. A firm hand stops you from straight up falling out of bed.

 “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “Mm’face is dirty…”

 “Don’t worry, you rubbed half of it off on my sweater anyways.”

 “Jimin…!” You whine petulantly, a hand stretched out as if you could summon a cleansing wipe if you thought hard enough. Even drunk you refuses to go to bed with makeup still on your face; imagine the mess it’ll leave on your pillows!

 A loud sigh and before you know it, you feel the dampness of one of your cleansing wipes in your outstretched hand. You take it with a grunt of appreciation before slapping it onto your face and begin rubbing it in the best way you think you can get the makeup off. You try to be strategic about it, going by sections of your face but eventually, you keep forgetting if you’ve went over the area or not. You end up wiping your face for a good fifteen minute straight.

 “I think you missed a spot.”

 You let out another grunt, loudly, tossing the wipe in the direction you hear his voice coming from, “Shuddup.”

 The wipe doesn’t come close to reaching his stupid handsome face like you wanted it to, it lands rather pathetically at the edge of his knee, right where the rip in his jeans were. Still, he takes it and effortlessly sends it flying to your trashcan.

 “Finished?”

 “Mm.” You hum, snuggling into your pillows before letting out a content sigh through your nose. You feel the covers tuck a little closer to you, the weight lifting from your bed and your hair being brushed out of the way. 

 “Now stay, and sleep.” 

 “Mm…Merry Chris…Nn—Merry Holiday, Jimin.” You mumble sleepily, drifting off finally though for a split second, you could’ve sworn you heard a “Merry Holiday” in return.

 The next morning, you wake up with a splitting headache that renders you incapacitated for half the day. When you did have enough strength to get up, you’re pleasantly greeted with a steaming mug of peppermint tea (the one with cute little snowflakes on it) and a pack of painkillers.

 Jaehee’s door was still shut, no doubt she’s either still passed out in sleep or she might’ve spent the night with her date so it’s with a half-hearted reluctance that you accept who could’ve done this. Nevertheless, you gratefully take the tea, cradling it in your hands as you make your way over to the couch. Settling down on the plush seat, you go to reach for the remote on the coffee table, only to notice one minor detail.

 Your little Noel candle holder was missing.

 You could only let out a sigh. In truth, you’re not even mad.

 -

 Present day

 “You sure you don’t want to head over to Jisoo’s? We can stay only until the countdown is over.” Jaehee asks once again as she straightens her sequin dress.

 “Nah, I think I’ve maxed out my social metre for the year in just this past week alone.” You laugh, stretching your arms over your head before settling back down again, cradling the laptop perched on your knees. You’re halfway done the season’s greeting DVD and you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself where you are.

 Jaehee acquiesces, adding a couple of finishing touches to her look, giving you a twirl and you giving her your seal of approval in return. She throws on her jacket just as her phone goes off, signaling her dates’ arrival to pick her up. Jaehee bids you farewell, wishing you a happy new year beforehand as she slips through the door. You brief chill from outside reaches you and you bring the throw over blanket closer to you, resuming your video.

 Throughout the entire time, you’ve got a smile stretched wide across your face. You can’t help it; BTS does that to you. Even when the DVD comes to a finish, you’re still left with the faint feeling of happiness and utter adoration for them and honestly, it kind of makes you care even less that you’re spending your New Year by yourself.

 So with a content sigh, you eagerly fill your glass again, wiggling happily as you settle further into the cushions to continue perusing the Internet. Now this is what you call self-care.

 “You look crazy.”

 You resist the urge to groan aloud.

 “Well, look who decided to crawl out of their bat cave.” You decide to shoot back sarcastically as you glance up just in time to see him emerge from the darkness beyond your living room. The way he strides towards you makes it look like the shadows had melded to his form and given shape to his clothing as well; all black but looking rather cozy to your surprise; a simple black hoodie and sweatpants, the comfiest and most casual you’ve seen him. The change is startling and makes your heart palpitate a little, though you brush it off as the wine working its way into your system.

 “And I see you still have those obnoxious decorations up.” He looks disdainfully at the numerous Christmas lights still strung up and around the space, crinkling his nose a bit. “When are you gonna take it down?”

 “When I feel like it.” You deadpan, going back to search up the latest performance video.

 “Do you want me to burn it down for you?”

 That causes you to snap your gaze up, eyes narrowing in warning. “Don’t you dare.”

 All you’re met is a devilish smirk, eyes challenging before he turns and seats himself on the opposite side of the couch, preening. You only puff up in annoyance but then forgo getting worked up over the light bantering. It’s a common occurrence between the two of you now; a strange, love-hate, dynamic that though you may yell and complain about how much you find him absolutely irritable, a very, very, very deep part of you admits that he’s grown on you…. like a rash.

 “So are you really just going to spend the remaining part of your year binge watching BTS related content, drinking wine?” You hear him ask. You spare him a glance over the top of your laptop, finding him doing the same except he’s scrolling through his iPhone X (which you have no idea how he even got). He’s got the judge-y eyes but you see the underlying teasing glint in them that only causes you to roll your own.

 “We’ve been over this; the only thing that can melt my glacial heart now is seven beautiful and talented Korean men whom one of which, might I reiterate numerous times now, you stole their identities to.” 

 “Details, details.” He says unconcernedly, making show of stretching his neck and working out the kinks. “Ever heard of how there are actually at least six people in the world that look almost exactly like you? So it’s not that big of a deal.” 

 You could only shake your head (because low-key yes, he’s right but you won’t admit it), opting take a generous gulp of your wine.

 “Careful darling; wouldn’t want a repeat of six days ago.”

 “Hey at least I didn’t throw up on you.” You say defensively, cheeks heating up slightly when you recall what he said you did after getting home from the Christmas party (as payback, he made you hand-wash his sweater). You set down your glass to pour yourself more wine, feeling him watching with eyes piercing though that does not deter you at all (you will assert your dominance here). He scoffs but does nothing to stop you from filling your glass three-quarters of the way and taking another sip so you take it as a small victory in proving that you’re right. 

 It continues on like this; a comment made here and there, some back and forth before you both settle rather comfortably, just sat across from each other in actual companionable silence. You’re halfway through your bottle before you had the conscious to stop, feeling the buzz hitting you in growing waves. By then, you’ve settled onto browsing through your phone, much like how he’s doing right now but even after a few minutes, you had to rest your head against the back of the couch, too tired to keep it up. The strength in your hands is the next to go and soon, you had to resort to taking mini breaks in between. 

 It gives you the chance to really look at Jimin, or more like this entity that has taken the form of Jimin. You take in the way the lights bounce off of his face; all soft yet sharp angles at the same time, the way his lashes flutter at the tops of his cheeks when he blinks, and the dainty mole right at the edge. You see how the dangling silver earring catches the light at the slightest movement of his head, but also notice the helix stud that is shining as well. It’s such a small detail, however one that you find most profound; the real Jimin doesn’t have a helix piercing anymore.

 Now, as the more you look, you’re starting to find other things that the real Jimin would have that the one in front of your doesn’t; like the faint dusting of freckles you would see when real Jimin isn’t wearing makeup and when the Jimin in front of you brushes his hair back from his forehead, you don’t see the moles that should’ve been there. 

 Half of you thinks that this shouldn’t be that big of a deal, given that a major difference between this Jimin and the real one is that he’s fluent in English (and you have a sneaking suspicion other languages too), but there’s just something about actually seeing the differences physically now with your own eyes makes you feel….

 “Your eyes are going vacant darling; is it way past your bedtime?”

 His voice snaps you from your thought and the familiarity of it in contrast to what you have discovered seems all the more jarring. You blink to focus, the spitting image of the idol coming back into your view.

 “I’m not old enough to start falling asleep before the countdown happens.” 

 “But you are old enough to miss it completely.” Jimin’s voice is laced with hints of laughter bubbling at the edges but his remark makes you whip your phone up to your face, checking the time to see that indeed it’s 12:01. 

 Well, damn.

 The laugh he’s no doubt been holding back finally bursts out, a raspy sound that’s just the slightest bit airy. It’s probably from the look of utter disbelief on your face but you don’t really care, eyes too transfixed on the way he’s thrown his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing and after he calms down to just grinning do you see— 

 That his teeth are perfectly straight.

 “I guess we should say, 'Happy New Year’ yes?”

 He’s smiling at you so brilliantly, eyes almost turning into crescents as they twinkle at you with this boyish charm, cheeks rounding a little more the same way that Jimin had made your heart stutter. It makes your own smile tug onto your lips, and you have half the mind to marvel at how easily swayed you are by him.

 This Jimin, that is so like him—

 Yet not at the same time….

 The feelings tug at your heart again, except this time you think you might be able to pin what it is.

 You feel…. relieved.

 But for what?

 Your smile falters for a split second at the revelation, but you swiftly pull yourself together, covering up by reaching for your forgotten wine glass. It’s empty, however you raise it all the same to him.

 “Happy New Year.” You breathe out softly as if you’re afraid to disturb the peaceful atmosphere between you two, all the while the words have you feeling like a small weight has been lifted from your shoulder.

 He smiles in response and for a split second; his face softens almost endearingly as he replies to you with an equal softness in his voice, “Happy New Year.”

 In the quiet of your living room, with only the twinkling lights of Christmas past, you find you're less alone than you would be welcoming in the New Year.

 And somehow, you don’t quite mind that it’s thanks to him.

 -

  Bonus

 “You owe me a new Jesus candle holder.”

 “…How about no?”

New Year, and he’s still insufferable. It was worth a shot.

[madamebaggio]

What is going on between Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon?

The whole country has been following closely Stark and Pendragon’s feud, but apparently, the line between love and hate is thinner than we’ve thought. Although some earlier reports considered the covers further provocation between the two artists, some people now think it might have been playground flirtation. Arthur is famous for his charming ways and Sansa hasn’t dated since her relationship with Joffrey Baratheon ended. So maybe what we see right now are just the sparks flying. The question is… Will they fizzle out, or are we about to see some fire?

Chapter 5

Catelyn Stark was a force of nature, there wasn’t a person in this world that was brave enough to disagree with her when she used her mom’s voice.

This was the reason that one Saturday a month, no matter where her children were, they all had to go back home to have dinner. That meant all the Stark children had to find a way to get back to Montana, no matter where the hell they were. Robb once had to fly in from London and then go back in less than 12 hours.

There were no excuses. (Sansa, Arya and Jon learned not to have concerts scheduled on the first Saturday of the month. It was that serious.)

Sansa normally loved those dinners -it meant she could see her parents and her siblings -but today... 

“I just think that boy is extremely rude.” Cat Stark commented as she cut her steak.

“Arthur Pendragon is the coolest guy ever!” Rickon protested.

Cat glared at her younger son.

“He apologized.” Arya reminded everyone. “Sansa even forgave him.”

“I’ve accepted his apology, it’s different.” She indicated.

Arya arched a brow at her sister. “That’s why you two are exchanging covers now?”

Sansa showed her tongue to her sister.

“The internet likes it.” Bran commented. “They’re shipping you guys.”

Ned stopped cutting his food. “Shipping? Where to?” He asked confused.

Arya snorted, and Jon hid his grin on his napkin. “No, dad. It means they want them to be a couple.” Bran explained.

Ned frowned. “I don’t like this.”

“Dad, that’s just people talking.” Sansa assured her father, after sending a glare to Bran. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fortunately.” Robb grumbled from his place.

Rickon and Bran started trading strange looks, then Bran shook his head urgently.

Cat arched a brow at the display. “What is going on?”

The two boys traded guilty looks. “You guys didn’t see his interview?”

“What interview?” Arya asked

“He gave an interview to a podcast.” Bran explained. “We heard it…”

Sansa threw a suspicious look at her younger brothers. She was well aware that Rickon liked Camelot, but she didn’t know Bran was also a fan.

“Did he say something about Sansa?” Robb demanded.

“Kind of…” Rickon shrugged.

“What was it?” Jon asked, clearly bothered by it.

“Jon.” Ygritte, his girlfriend, rolled her eyes. “Relax. He just talked more about the whole thing. He even apologized again.”

“Oh, that’s nice of him.” Talisa, Robb’s wife, cooed.

“You’ve heard it?” Sansa asked Ygritte.

“Yeah.” Ygritte confirmed. “It’s a cool podcast, and they have good interviews. Haven’t you checked your phone? Because it’s probably blowing up because of it.”

As a matter of fact, Sansa hadn’t checked her phone since she’d arrived at her parents’ house, because her mother always complained when they did it.

She shook her head.

“I have it here.” Bran offered.

“Show us now!” Arya demanded.

“No!” Sansa protested, but it was too late, her brother had already pulled his phone.

“I don’t like phones at the dinner table.” Cat reminded her son.

“It’s short, I promise!” Bran indicated, then just went ahead. He found whatever he was looking for, fiddled with his phone for a while and then...

“…some interesting covers.” A male voice Sansa didn’t recognize.

The chuckle that came after was all too familiar to her. “You could say that.”

“So, what’s up between you and Sansa Stark?” The man pressed.

“Just friendly banter.” Arthur replied, and she could just imagine that prick, sitting back, completely relaxed.

“People are saying your kids would look great.” The interviewer teased.

“If they took after her, they would.”

Arya snorted.

The man laughed. “And you say nothing is going on?” It was obvious he didn’t believe it.

“Nope.” He popped the p.

“But can we expect something soon?” The man pressed. “Maybe a duet?”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Who knows?” Sansa gasped at his audacity. “The thing is, I was an asshole, and I have no problem admitting it. I’ve repeatedly said I was sorry, but I’ll say once again. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. Sansa Stark worked a lot to be here, and I have no right to call it bullshit just because my style is different.”

“People are saying you’re only apologizing because you got caught.” The man pointed out.

“I’m more concerned with Stark’s forgiveness.” Arthur threw back, completely unaffected.

“And has she forgiven you?”

“If she hasn’t, I can always cover ‘When you pass by’.”

Bran stopped the audio. All the heads turned to Sansa. “I’m going to murder him if he covers ‘When you pass by’.” She hissed.

Arya decided it was the perfect moment to laugh her ass off. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jon, Talisa, Ygritte and Rickon were also laughing.

“He did sound contrite.” Ned observed.

“I still don’t like him.” Cat decided.

“I second that!” Robb hurried to say.

“This is not a vote.” Sansa pointed out. “And there’ll be no more covers and definitely no duets.”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“What?” Sansa asked, resigned. Besides, Jon was the quietest among them. If he had an opinion, normally it was worth listening to.

“I just think you guys would sound nice in a duet. Your voices would compliment each other.” He offered.

Robb protested and Sansa threw a piece of bread at her cousin. Her mother was not amused.

XxX

Sansa almost called Arthur to ask what the hell he was thinking about. He was only adding gas to a fire that was burning quite well on its own.

After dinner finished and she went to her old room to hide, she decided to check the internet to see if people were really shipping them.

Oh yes… They were.

There were some fanarts and a dozen fanfictions. It was embarrassing and it reminded her why she shouldn’t Google herself.

She didn’t read anything and ignored the terribly photoshopped montages of them.

Tomorrow it would be gone.

XxX

Why Sansa was still so optimistic was a mystery to herself. Of course nothing was gone in the morning.

It was actually worse.

God worked fast, but fangirls worked even faster.

In the few days after the interview, someone had made a fan video of one of her songs. Which, fair enough, happened sometimes. But never like this!

They picked a song from her second album -when she was under Cersei’s influence -called “Love won’t let me go”. She wasn’t fond of this song anymore, because she basically wrote it to say she loved Joffrey too much to leave, even though he was an abusive fucker.

However, they hadn’t used only her image for it. They’d used Arthur’s as well.

Shiiiiiit!!!

All in all, it was ridiculously well done, and in many moments it actually looked like they were together in scene. The person who’d done it used scenes from Sansa’s and Camelot’s music videos, a few from red carpets and even Arthur’s special participation on a biker series.

They also used some other actor and actress to complete some parts. Sansa was pretty sure some scenes with Arthur were actually shots of Scott Eastwood’s back.

It obviously wasn’t official or real, but it still looked good. A for effort and dedication.

And the person had posted and tagged them both in it.

Now, Sansa was tagged in a lot of fan posts, so she hardly ever saw them all-unfortunately- but this time, Arthur had replied to it.

“Hey, I don’t remember recording this. How drunk was I?”

Was he serious? Did he want to die?

A mischievous voice that Sansa hardly ever listened to, told her to say something clever back. He always thought he was oh so charming, right?

“Plenty, but you were very cooperative.”

That would show him.

XxX

And once again she'd overestimated Arthur's common sense. She shouldn't have encouraged him.

“Can’t believe I forgot it. Can we redo it? I don’t like my hair on this one.” He’d attached a still that was quite obviously not him, one of the parts where whoever made it used Scott Eastwood.

Who said things like that? After the interview and now with this, people were seriously thinking they were about to work together on a song.

How would something like this even work? It wouldn’t! Arthur had to stop encouraging those rumors with this type of comment.

Honestly… His agent should take over his Twitter account.

“Just answer him!” Shae insisted.

“Do not!” Brienne cut in. “I’m already drowning in phone calls. Everybody wants to know if you’ll be recording something together.”

Sansa snorted. “Sure we will. As soon as he learns how to dance.”

“Don’t say that to anyone, even as a joke.” Brienne begged.

“Let her have some fun, Brienne.” Shae rolled her eyes. “There’s a hot rockstar wanting her attention. This is the American dream.”

Brienne was clearly unamused with the idea. “I can talk to his agent if you want.” She offered Sansa.

“Please, don’t.” Sansa asked. “It’d be embarrassing, like my parents are calling his. I’ll deal with it myself.”

Brienne didn’t seem convinced. And when later Sansa tweeted a reply to Arthur -“Sure. Get your people to call mine.” - Brienne made sure to show her displeasure over text.

Sansa didn’t mind. She was having fun.

XxX

Sansa had just finished rehearsal with her uncle Benjen when she saw Shae waving her cellphone, a smirk on her lips.

She didn’t even have to ask to know who it was.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She said by way of greeting.

“You did tell me to contact your people, Red.” Arthur drawled from the other side. “I have to say that I looked amazing in some parts of that video, not much in others.”

Sansa snorted. “You have way too much free time. Don’t you have a song to record or a beer to drink?”

“Now, that’s offensive, Stark.” Arthur said dramatically. “Is this how you see me?”

“I see you as the annoying man who won’t leave me alone.” She threw back, but there was no bite in her tone. She wondered when she started enjoying these little chats with Arthur.

“Talking about my stalking techniques…” She couldn’t hold a laughter at that. “Do you have a date for the Grammy’s?”

She leaned against the wall and glared at Shae who wasn’t even pretending not to be listening. “Yes, and his name is Benjen Stark.”

He groaned. “Fuck, I can’t compete with that.”

That made her arch a brow. “Do you want to compete with that?” Shae seemed curious about this question, and was unashamedly demanding to know what was going on.

Arthur’s chuckle was rich and made Sansa blush for some stupid reason. “If you have to ask, Stark…” He drawled. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

She was still sputtering when he say goodbye and hung up on her. Shae let out a low whistle. “That boy is good. He’s got you blushing like a school girl.”

“I think…” Sansa cleared her throat. “I think he just said he wants my attention or something…”

Shae snorted. “Darling, he’s been desperately trying to get your attention for a while now. At this point… I’m pretty sure he wants your body too.”

Sansa just gaped at Shae, getting red all over again.

Notes: There you have it!

OMG ARTHUR! Can you believe this man? lol What should Sansa do now?

A few things...

1- I thought it’d be adorable for Ned to be confused with the term ‘shipping’. I couldn’t resist.

2- “When you pass by” is another Brazilian song that is sickeningly sweet. It’s a girl saying how her heart beats when the guy she likes passes by. It’s cute and catchy. “Love won’t let me go” is another Brazilian song, this one about a girl who is suffering but can’t let go of the idiot she dates. So... ahahah i just went with them.

3- I almost made my own terrible photoshopped picture of them, but I gave up, because I suck at it (even if it was just to prove Sansa’s point about fangirls). The story about the videos is actually inspired on these fan videos we see on youtube that are glouriously well done. I myself made a few of them, but enver uploaded.

I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

Next chapter... Sansa gives an interview and Arthur realizes he’s deeper in love than he might’ve originally thougt.

Let me know your feelings.