#all this to say i cleaned up my desk and arranged my painting supplies

[ohmeadows]

saw a tiktok talking about how if you're in a creative rut, have you shown up for your creative passion? have you made time and space for it and it alone? have you treated it well? or have you talked about it as a pain in the ass that doesn't obey? have you resented and loathed it? have you made the first move to treasure the gift that it is and all the ideas it has fed you?

[jayne-hecate-writer]

Chieftain tanks are my happy place

I grew up in Germany in the 1980s, a time of the cold war, Chernobyl and the Chieftain tank. Sadly, only one of these things has turned into something fun to play with at the weekend.

I have loved the Chieftain tank since childhood and had more than one chance to crawl across one, while still an overly excited pre-teen, visiting the Tank Museum in Bovington. Obviously, as soon as I hit my teenage years, I immediately stopped loving something as loud, obnoxious and heavy as a tank and instead got into music, namely Heavy Metal music.

Along with my love of Heavy Metal music, came my delight in the peace movement and even now aged horribly close to fifty, I am still involved in the peace movement, albeit, while wishing that I had the disposable income and large area of unused farmland upon which I could dabble in my interest in Chieftain tanks.

As we all know, the venerable old Chieftain had something of an Achilles heel out back, in the form the Leyland L60 engine. However, when it did work, the nineteen litre, opposing piston, two stroke multi-fuel engine had a glorious howl to it, despite being chronically underpowered for the vehicle it was propelling. Luckily the pack was easy to pull out and replace while in the field... Every cloud etc.

You can now buy your own Chieftain tank, providing that you have £60K to play with. However you also need a thousand pounds to fill the tank, every time you want to go for a drive of more than half a mile. If you want to know more about this kind of thing, why not go and have a look at the Mr Hewes YouTube channel. If you love tanks, you will not be disappointed.

Now of late, I have of course got into my art in a big way and when I say a big way, I now have a room in the house entirely dedicated to my making art. I have some of my art displayed in our home and the wife even likes some of it! However, I have wanted to make a Chieftain Tank Diorama for a while now and always put it off because of the cost of a decent sized set. Now obviously, the kindly folk at Google would never listen in to my conversations through their monitoring devices in my phones and computers, so it was by pure chance that they displayed to me one day, a whole host of cheap model tanks... It would have been rude to ignore it, so I snapped up a Tamiya 1/35 scale model set for a penny short of £17. The bastard Post Office added their own stab in the back for delivery and four days later, it arrived in my disgustingly sweaty paws. Thus, the plan came together and I got my magic bucket out of the shed. I cut the wood for a base and dropped it in the bucket. I also slapped in some ripped up newspaper and a bottle of glue, then tickled the lot with a paintbrush and then dropped in the bits of tank. I put the lid on the bucket, gave it a hearty shake as I said the magic words (do you really think that I am going to tell you my magic words?) and what do you know? A load of spilled paint, sticky glue, broken plastic and ripped up newspaper fell out of the bucket!

So with a new model set delivered to my desk and the magic bucket on toilet cleaning duty, I set about doing it properly. The base was a piece of off cut chipboard donated by a friend. The newspaper came from my Mother in law, while Wifypoozles supplied the PVA glue. Knowing the dimensions of the tank, I was able to map out the diorama and then start designing the landscape. I knew that I wanted a rocky bank and a drainage ditch either side of the vehicle, with a fence and some grass. Using a cardboard tube and flower arranging foam, I quickly modelled the bank and then using a drill and a Dremel I cut the ditch into the base board.

The base board was then coated with newspaper and a mix of paint and PVA, sealing the tube and foam into place. I also placed a couple of pretty stones and a larger rock into place to give me a rocky bank with an exposed rock face.

With the base dry, it was time to add the soil and substrate, for which I used a mix of builders sand, gravel and pebbles, mixed with PVA. It took a couple of days to dry, but when it did, it was as hard as rock. Using my airbrush, I gave it a quick coat of burnt umber paint, which just deepened the already very brown of the sand and gravel. I used some lichen that had fallen from one of our trees to simulate bushes and shrubs and used some sheet grass from a model railway to make the grassy tufts I wanted at the edge of my gravel road.

I used cocktail sticks and super glue to knock up a fence and then found the measurements for a stile and added one of them too. A quick on line check sourced an army range sign warning about the dangers of picking up used ordnance.

With the base done, I turned to the model tank and began the construction with painting and building of twelve road wheels, two front guide wheels, two rear sprockets and six return rollers. Five hours later, each wheel was assembled, painted and ready for fitting to the bogies. By the end of day one on the tank build, I had assembled the lower hull, with tracks.

Day two saw me make a start on the upper section of the tank, also known as the Glacis Plate and engine deck. This took barely more than an hour and the boxes looked great assembled and fitted. Moving onto the turret was where things got complicated as several tiny parts needed to be located and fitted. The crew doors had to be functional, so that if I decided to use them, I could add the figures for a heads out driving of the vehicle. I also had to fit the barrel lock, which again had to be functional to allow the main gun to be locked into the rearward position. With all of these parts functional, it was fun to add the first coats of paint, a dark green acrylic ink designed for use with an air brush. With the dark green base coat of the plastic, it needed only thin coverage to give the wanted effect, however as the paint dried, it took on the usual glossy finish, totally unsuitable for NATO camouflage. Luckily, when I bought the model set, I also purchased a bottle of clear mat varnish.

Some parts of the set were extremely well made and thus it went together beautifully, not needing anything more than a light sanding to remove moulding marks. Sat on the shelf behind me in my room was two jars of experimental spru-goo and not once did I need it. However some parts were quite poorly made. Actually, that is unfair. The plastic tow cables were brittle and did not lay like real steel cable, so I raided the mountain bike spares and pulled out a stainless steel brake cable, which I unwound to find the wire core. At point eight of a millimetre, this was the exact size to replace the plastic tow cables. However the eyelets that connect the cable to the tank were another story. Using some of the spru-goo, I attempted to model some eyelets. However at the time of writing, the spru-goo has not yet reached full hardness. So with a heavy heart, I cut the eyelets off of the plastic tow cable and with a micro-drill, made a 0.5mm hole and then enlarged it to just under one millimetre. This was just big enough for take a tight fitting steel cable and thus the tow cables were made.

The final pieces to be assembled were the crew and in the instruction guide, all three of the crew are to be painted as white European men. This grated against my more egalitarian heart and so when I started to paint the figures, I painted the tank Commander with a skin tone that matched a photograph of Grand Tour level cyclist, Biniam Girmay, the first Black African cyclist to win a stage in a grand tour. The young man is an extremely talented professional cyclist, who was unfortunately taken out of the 2022 Gyro d'Italia after winning a stage, when the cork from a podium celebration bottle hit him in the eye.

With my crew painted, I fitted them and then decided that they needed a back story, so here it is. The Driver is a Gay man, out and proud. The Gunner is a Trans Man, brave and strong and then the Commander is a young Black man. The sad truth is that during the years of service for this vehicle, it is extremely unlikely that such people would ever get into the army, let alone command of a main battle tank.

Thus my project came to an end, with a large stone holding the tank hull down to the base board as I waited for the glue to dry. So while I wait for the glues, paints and resins to harden, I must find another project to distract me from the unending pain I suffer every day. I know, I will design and scratch build from paper stock an entire model of my motorbike! I am a fucking idiot.

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.7

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (3.8k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, the angst is strong with this one

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, February 2 

The home is somewhat cozy.

It’s smaller than the one you and Namjoon have been occupying, doors and rooms completely foreign. There’s a serene meadow nearby that remains you of the garden, and within the interior of the house lies a surprisingly expansive assortment of spiraling halls, all leading into different directions.

The aftermath of your sudden kidnapping led Namjoon to the decision of temporarily retreating elsewhere. 

“It’s not much, but it’s definitely doable.” He explains, pacing around the bedroom and double checking the various drawers for clothes, “I don’t think we’ll be here too long, but there seems to be enough supplies.” 

You remain seated on the edge of the bed, eyes staring at the ground in silence. Namjoon quickly glances outside the window before resuming to take apparel out of them. 

“We should be safe here.” He hurriedly says, carefully placing the clothes aside, “I haven’t been able to get into contact with my family either, so I’m hoping they know to stay under the radar after discovering our absence. In fact, I‒” 

“You knew….” 

Your voice is incredibly faint, akin to a whisper. He’s crouched down on the ground, hands clasped around a cotton shirt when they freeze in place. 

Slowing rising from his spot, he turns to face you. The first thing that captures his attention is the accumulation of tears within your eyes, your features twisting. 

“W-Why didn’t you just kill me?” 

He walks closer to you, “Y/N…” 

Your facade snaps, no longer able to play a game of pretend. 

“I was sent to spy on you, Namjoon!” You rise from the bed, stalking towards him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I was going to kill you!” 

“Y/N!” You abruptly glance up, startled from his tone. 

Namjoon holds a pained expression, and carefully holds your hands, just like you had reached out for his as you stopped him from going to work, “I-I’m not going to kill you….” 

You can only stare, eyes wet and teeth digging into your bottom lip. The discovery has been killing you on the inside, the sinking awareness that he was capable of getting rid of you within any split second and that he knows, he knows of everything you’ve done in that house. 

It’s slowly driving you insane….and it terrifies you. 

“But why?!” You cry out, “I’ve killed Taehyung, I’ve murdered Eunjoo!”

Your hands frantically tremble, voice cracking, “What’s stopping me from killing you…?” 

A wave of tears run down your cheeks and your quivering hands raise to cover your face. Amidst of contemplating everything you’ve done, you can’t understand his actions and it serves to make you wonder why you’re even here. 

Why even bring someone as horrible as you into this house? 

His arms immediately wrap around you, tugging you closer. Your head rests against his shoulder, sobs amplifying. 

Namjoon sighs, his chest rising and deflating, “Honestly nothing is, if you ask me.” 

He truthfully admits it ‒ you do have the power to end his life, and he knows that, “But I accepted that being with you meant that I couldn’t interfere with your work and I wasn’t planning to either, Y/N.” 

“Y-You were waiting… you were waiting for me to kill you….” You shake your head as Namjoon continues to hold you, “I-I’ve killed so many people Namjoon…” 

Somehow, his knowledge and awareness makes you want to confess it all ‒ confess how much your hands have been horribly tainted. 

“I know, Y/N.” He whispers, “I know.” 

The wedding has commenced. 

An union between families has been forged. 

And Namjoon is no longer a single man. 

“I’d like to leave for bed now.” You smile, painting a look of exhaustion after conversing with Namjoon and his parents, “I’m feeling quite tired.” 

“Of course, of course!” Namjoon’s mother understandably waves you off as Namjoon’s father wraps a hand around his son. 

“Go on, Y/N! We need to catch up anyways!” His father says, smiling at him. 

Namjoon stiffens in his hold as you depart, following after his father into a separate room. 

The moment the door shuts close, the warm tone in Namjoon’s eyes turns cold. There’s a dark look in his father’s irises as he crosses his arms and leans against the wooden desk, staring at his son intently. 

He already knows what words he’s about to spew, and it's something his father acknowledges. 

“You know already, don’t you? Of what those pesky L/N’s sent into your home?” 

Namjoon hums, meeting the latter’s stare intently, “How long do you intend on keeping her around before getting rid of her?” 

“Perhaps for all of eternity.” His father lets out a snarl, but Namjoon challengingly quirks up a brow in retaliation. 

“Are you being serious?” He slams his fist against the table, “Do you even hear what you’re saying?!”

Namjoon’s mouth twitches, “I’ve already told you and mother multiple times ‒ I plan on marrying only once.” 

“So you’re going to have a L/N spy for a wife?! And bury this empire to the ground?!” 

“As the next heir, what I do to the business will be out of my own accord,” He sharply retorts, “And Y/N....has me for a husband. I’m no better than she is.” 

His father’s face turns bright red, angry veins running through his neck. Thankfully he doesn’t notice how Namjoon’s voice softens when he speaks of you, or the way there’s something spurring silently within his eyes, something that begins with pure curiosity and ends with wishing for a reflection. 

“You will bring our empire to its downfall.” 

Namjoon smiles. 

“Then so be it.” 

***

Kim Namjoon is blind. 

He doesn’t speak nor scrutinize, not a word leaving him as he notices a small wire sticking out from the bedroom window, ironically appearing to just be a simple one used for electricity but perfect enough to be connected to a static code receptor. 

He doesn’t retaliate with anything when you coincidentally arrive at his office with the excuse of bringing his forgotten lunch, painting on naive eyes during the meeting he holds with the shareholders of his company. He becomes aloof to their glares and scoffs, granting you complete access without being intrusive, and yet without any of his own actions, your exterior cracks ‒ breaking it on purpose to protect and defend your own family. 

His eyes flicker at witnessing your intent firsthand and without hesitation, he offers his help even if it meant welcoming deceit with open arms. 

Perhaps that act makes Namjoon hopeful, too hopeful in fact, when he draws more interest in you and wants to know more, even if your words are filled with lies and twisted truths. Perhaps his curiosity of who his wife truly is becomes too much for him to handle, that he must simply know about the person behind the mask, the person he saw at the altar that was avoiding his gaze and looking terrified beyond belief. He sees her again briefly when you begin to indulge him about your life before becoming a spy, but Namjoon can already pinpoint that he’s too hopeful as your mask surfaces again, innocently maneuvering yourself into being allowed to accompany him to his company’s warehouse. 

It makes him wonder, wonder if he was truly playing himself into a trap. If his father was right in a way, if he should simply cut off his hopeful ties and ultimately step away before it’s too late. 

But Namjoon decides to do something different, he decides to do something that you might be horribly frightened by, but he won’t ever hesitate to do. 

He becomes truthful. 

He tells you everything, what his business is, what his family is, what he is, and he can clearly see it. The terror that swims within your eyes, the astonishment that crosses you with being confronted by the truth and the hesitation, the very hesitation that drives his hopes up higher than they could be. 

But there’s one factor that Namjoon underestimated, and that’s how far you were willing to go to fulfill your role.  

He hates how late it took him to realize, scorns at how the combination of your sudden nausea coupled with Taehyung’s departure wasn’t obvious enough for him to decipher. 

The moment he comes back home that day, it’s strangely silent. He assumed that Eunjoo would be around and that you were perhaps consulting with her about your health, but the moment he rushes up the stairs, he can see it all. 

It looks squeaky clean, save for the few drops of blood stuck to the underside of one of the carpets that would have been easily ignored. 

Abruptly, the sound of the shower alerts him, and he knows exactly where the culprit is. 

He knocks on the door, carefully leaning his ear against the wood. 

“Y/N? Y/N, are you feeling better?”

“Y-Yeah...I’m feeling much better, Namjoon.” 

His eyes narrow. The sound of water restricts his ability to hear properly and gives you a sufficient reason not to face him at the moment, and your voice is hesitant and deeper than usual. 

The incident happened very close to his arrival, and you’ve been injured in the process. 

“Alright….I’ll just be here, if you need anything.” 

Before heading off to bed, he attempts to assess the situation to the best of his ability. 

Taehyung left shortly after you were feeling sick and was convinced that having you around was a bad call on his part. If Namjoon doesn’t hear from him tomorrow, it’s highly likely that he was able to figure the truth about your identity and decided to finish the job himself, ultimately failing. 

Eunjoo is nowhere inside the house. She doesn’t leave at sporadic times with informing him or leaving behind a notice, making it possible that she unintentionally found out who you were and decided to take action. 

There was only one simple method you could have used to render them silent. 

His back hits the wall as he squeezes his eyes shut, a deep remorseful sigh leaving his lips. 

“Why did the two of you need to get involved in this?” 

After that night, Namjoon sees a stark difference within you. It’s almost like there’s a deep crack within the surface of your mask, your own worries and concerns easily leaking out. 

And you make no move to sew it up. 

It brings him to the point where he even convinces you to go back home, that maybe leaving all this would grant some peace of mind to you. In the process, he was even able to keep the investigation under control and the spotlight away from you, as his involvement and words were trusted more than anything. 

But of course, your collective duties to your families reigns higher than anything. 

Ultimately, he knew solely getting involved in the investigation placed him in threatening territory. That as subjected, he would be able to easily decipher your actions and be given the opportunity to compromise your identity.  

So what better way was there, than to get rid of him? To pretend your husband met with an unfortunate incident, all while to cover up your tracks along the way? 

It was his last day ‒ he knew it. He would have to conclusively tie up your investigation in such a way that you would never be found out as the culprit. His perceived demise led to him parting a farewell gift for you as well, something he had hoped he would have survived long enough to see you wear. 

But when given the golden opportunity, you casted away your ensuing aim, choosing to save him instead.  

After taking time to calm down, a question lingers in your mind for Namjoon. 

“A-Are you going to tell anyone?” You wonder, peering over at the opposite side of the bed where he sits, “About me…?” 

Namjoon looks away from the window, instantly shaking his head, “Of course not.” 

Although his answer spreads relief through you, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “But I do have to say, having a wife that was prepared to secretly kill me would have made a really good brunch story.” 

You let out an exhale, shaking your head with a smile that manages to crack through, “My family won’t know about you either, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that my life is in danger.” 

At the mention of prior events, you crane your head to the side and narrow your eyes. 

“It’s strange.” You place a pondering finger on your lips, “No one ever informed me that the Kim family was being targeted….”

Eyes suddenly widening, an abrupt thought sparks in your mind. 

Your voice drops into a whisper, “My mission…” 

“Huh?” Namjoon leans forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of you. Turning around, there’s dread in your eyes. 

“My mission.” You repeat, firmer this time. “It’s been compromised.” 

Recognition spreads through his irises as you uncomfortably shift. 

The feeling of a target resting on your back as well makes your stomach wind up into a thousand knots. 

“Well, are you going to follow through with it?” 

Your brows furrow immediately, answer coming through without hesitation, “No.” 

“Then the best way to combat it is to act as if nothing ever happened.” Namjoon explains, “They don’t need to know that someone is aware of your true identity.” 

Your eyes twinkle with the information, “Then I’ll need to set up some kind of communication line with them.” 

For this to work, you’ll need to keep in touch and send false reports through. However, your hopes dwindle with the knowledge that you don’t have any of your equipment with you. 

As if he knows exactly what you're thinking, Namjoon quirks up a smile and slides off the bed. He reaches his hand out to you, which you take in confusion. 

“Come on, I still need to show you the rest of the house.” 

***

Namjoon ends up leading you to a separate hallway, one that’s extremely lengthy and almost never ending until you reach a door you wouldn’t have been able to find yourself. As Namjoon knocks against it and presses his ear against the door, you notice a handful of maids walking by, some sending you friendly smiles that you return. 

The door opens and Namjoon gestures you inside. 

You’re greeted to the sight of two men in the room. One of them leans against a wooden table with his arms crossed, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and his brown hair considerably tousled. The other sits at the same table, his cheeks full and blonde hair parted to the side. 

The blonde haired man eyes are wide, staring at you in fascination.

“Is this her?” He immediately blurts out, and when Namjoon nods, he instantly gets up and rushes over. 

A breathtaking angelic smile spreads across his features as he reaches his hand out, “Hi, it’s great to finally meet you.” 

You return the gesture but are puzzled with the interaction, your eyes swaying over to Namjoon. The man with the glasses stands up straighter, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. 

His gaze is scrutinizing and there’s a faint twinkle residing within his irises. “Do you know who we are?” 

You're hesitant to answer, shaking your head. 

He immediately scoffs, eyes blazing with anger, “You never mentioned us?!” 

At the sound of his spiking loud tone, Namjoon sheepishly smiles and just shrugs. The man scoffs again, shaking his head. 

The action makes your mind churn, and the more you stare at the two, the more bits and pieces of information begin to weave together. 

Something suddenly flickers within your eyes, jaw instantly dropping down. Your finger shakingly points towards him in awe. 

“K-Kim Seokjin….” Your sight moves over to the man you just shook hands with, pupils widening with more realization, “and Park Jimin?” 

A smug smile crosses Seokjin’s lips, “Ah so you do know who we are, Miss Y/N.” 

His voice gives off the inkling that he knows just as much about you as you know of him ‒ even doubting that his extensive knowledge is perceptive and aware of more. 

“I’ve only seen the two of you a handful of times,” You turn to Namjoon, “When I was familiarizing myself with individuals involved in the business, we had plenty of photographs and records on each person and the tasks they oversee.”

“‒But there were some individuals that barely had any information on them. They would be spotted near you from time to time and aside from just a name, those parties remained a mystery.” 

Your eyes flicker up again, oscillating between the two. Seokjin smiles, appearing impressed with your ability to remember the trivial matters. 

Namjoon steps forward, offering up an explanation, “I think it’s great that we don’t need an introduction, but it’ll probably surprise you to know that Seokjin and Jimin are shareholders within my company.” 

Your jaw instantly drops and Namjoon chuckles, “I’d like to call them my secret shareholders, because aside from funding and aiding me with my company, they’re both equipped with other skills.” 

At the mention of it, Jimin lets a small smile slip out and Seokjin’s eyes twinkle. “They’re the only ones I can truly trust and because of that, I don’t expose them to the world and they know to keep a low profile.” 

You nod, slowly processing the information. It's still baffling to know that despite the amount of rigorous training and memorization you’ve done to prepare yourself for this task, there was still something missing that you wouldn’t have known until Namjoon told you himself. 

And their ultimate purpose is something he eventually explains. 

“The reason why I’m introducing you to them is because they will be staying with us until it’s safe to return home,” He points to Seokjin, “And I wanted to bring you to someone that knows communication lines inside and out, so that you can send your reports back.” 

Your wide eyes come into contact with Seokjin’s, and he begins to back away, gesturing to you as he heads towards the door. You take it as a sign that you need to follow after him, leaving Namjoon and Jimin behind as you exit. 

He leads you down a separate hall, entering a room with multiple devices attached to the walls. There’s various cords and headsets that mimic your initial intelligence reporting within the dark corridor, alongside computers with jargon written on them. 

Your first reaction is to simply stare in awe, “Wow….” 

Seokjin smiles, flopping down on a chair and wheeling himself over to a computer. He hands you a headset, beginning to type frantically on one of the computers. 

“This is how you’re going to hear the signals being sent through.” Spinning around in his chair, he grabs onto a bronze and steel contraption and gives it to you, “This is an upgraded version of a telegraph sounder that connects to these computers and should allow you to send information via morse code.” 

Your eyes instantly light up in recognition and you begin to carefully tap against the metal, noticing a reception signal forecasting onto the screen. Seokjin points it out to you right away and begins to type something into the keyboard. 

“This technology is so advanced….” You mumble, eyeing the screen keenly. 

“It’s good for using multiple lines when the signal you’re sending out isn’t just being received by one location.” Seokjin explains. 

You hum, continue to test out the machinery. Seokjin hooks you up to the same line you were using to communicate previously and when a successful correspondence is sent through, he grins. 

After assisting you through the process, you start sending the information over like usual. Seokjin glances at his phone, slowly rising from his seat. 

“I have to get back to the others.” He guides you to sit where he was, letting you take over completely, “Namjoon wants to discuss the events of what happened with you two.” 

You nod, eyes glued with the screen and occupied with decoding and understanding the message you receive. “If you need anymore help, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

You quickly nod and Seokjin carefully exits the room, attempting to disturb you in the middle of communicating. Your hands work furiously to decode the messages, pupils rapidly flickering all over the screen. 

However in the midst of this process, you don’t notice the abrupt static coming through from a screen that was previously turned off.

***

By the time you leave the room, you are thoroughly exhausted. 

It seems so far things are under control, though you were vigorously questioned on the delay of your previous mission. A tumble of excuses are conjured within a spindle of minutes, differing from your simple inability to do so due to your husband constantly being occupied with your investigation and the fact that he has been remaining underneath the spotlight. Regardless, it seems acceptable enough and though displeased ‒ you’re reminded that the job must be conducted efficiently as soon as possible. 

Wiping your clammy hands against one another, you peer around the hallways. It’s still considerably mind spinning to understand where the long expansive pathways lead to, especially in such a small house, but a friendly smile greets you right away. 

“Miss Y/N?” 

You whirl around to see one of the maids you had passed by earlier on, and she bows before you. 

“Master Kim alerted me that you were in this room.” She explains, “He’s been waiting for you.” 

You nod in retaliation, following after her. Your eyes begin to roam around, noticing the fine wood carvings on each door and the way there are multiple rooms in the current corridor you’re in. It doesn’t seem much like a house but more so like a mansion with its endless ways. 

The maid leading you abruptly stops and you tilt your head to the side, attempting to see what was before her. The sight of a window greets you instantly and you raise an eyebrow, but suddenly it dawns upon you that you’re no longer in the same hallway anymore. 

Instantly, your eyes snap up and the maid swivels, her hands wrapping firmly around your mouth from behind. You erratically kick your legs and attempt to grab onto bundles of her hair, but your shoes are soon dragging against the carpet. 

Your brows shoot up in alarm when more maids begin to pool in ‒ one of them begins to strenuously wrap a broken wire around your hands as another gives the first maid a damp piece of cloth. They immediately switch places, the fabric pressed right against your nose as you furiously push away from them with muffled grunts. 

Suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you and your eyes begin to frantically dart around, barely being able to focus on the way a cool breeze hits your face. 

As seconds fly by, your limbs fall limp and your pupils roll back in your sockets, rendering you completely unconscious. 

[alby-rei]

Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3 

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side. 

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement. 

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love. 

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.  

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”            

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you­ see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed. 

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made. 

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,” I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did. 

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode. 

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”      

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. 

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

[pay-with-your-kinks]

Frustrating

Summary: Seungmin and Hyunjin were constantly at each other’s throats, mostly fighting over you. So, you decided, that it was finally time to put them both in their place.

College AU

Photography-Major!Seungmin x Business-Major(Rich-Kid)!Hyunjin x Business-Major!Reader

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!members, Seungjin violence with each other, threesome, pegging, cum-play, slight pet-play(?), member on member, corruption kink, mommy kink, slight edging, also it was only quickly edited so there may be a couple mistakes

----

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shit!” Seungmin yelped, spinning around and being met with Hyunjin

Hyunjin rose his eyebrow, looking at the boy below him, Seungmin being crouched on the ground behind a bush, a camera in his hands.

“You look like a pervert,”

“I’m making art,” Seungmin squinted at him “Of course you wouldn’t understand that, though,”

“I have pieces you wouldn’t be able to afford if you sold everything you own,”

“Shit that your parents paid for that you don’t know a thing about,” Seungmin muttered, and turned back around “Damnit, I lost her!”

“Lost who?”

“Don’t act dumb. I know you were following Y/N too,” He said, still looking around for you from above the bush

Hyunjin pursed his lips and looked to the side, going quiet for a second.

“At least I wasn’t taking pictures,” He finally spoke

“You took too long to make a comeback. Now you not only look lame, but sound it too,”

“Only cause I’m not nearly as vulgar as someone like you,”

“Someone like me? You mean my money?” Seungmin turned back to face Hyunjin “Y/N may be taking your course, but she’s way closer to my ‘class’ then she is to your pretentious ass,”

“You don’t know I was talking about money!”

“You’re always talking about money. That’s your only personality trait. How rich you are,”

“I’ll show you a personality trait-” Hyunjin scoffed, and went to roll up his sleeves

“Hyunjin? Seungmin?” You asked from behind the two boys, and they both immediately swivelled around

“Y/N!” the two said in unison, Hyunjin’s hands automatically going to his hair to fix himself up, and Seungmin immediately hiding the camera behind his back and jumping to his feet

“What are you two doing?” You sighed “Looks like you were at each other’s throats,”

“Me? Fighting with someone?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened in what would’ve passed as surprise had you not just plainly seen the two fighting after having followed you

Seungmin took a deep breath in and clenched his camera in his hands, trying to keep his anger under control, especially in front of you.

“Right…” You nodded slowly “Well I was just heading to get bubble tea, wanna join?”

“I’d love to!” The two said in unison

They glanced at each other

“…jinx you owe me an hour alone with Y/N,” Seungmin muttered quickly under his breath

“Like hell,” Hyunjin muttered back

You raised your brow and breathed out a laugh, knowing that they probably assumed that you couldn’t hear them, like always, before beckoning them over and beginning to walk towards the bubble tea shop. They both went urgently to your side, and you couldn’t help but make a comparison of both of them to puppies.

 ----

Light shone in streaks through the blinds in your window, landing right on your eyes. You groaned and squeezed them shut before turning away from your window and blindly patting your hand on your bedside table, finally finding your phone and picking it up.

You sighed when you saw the time. Eight in the morning. Even on weekends you couldn’t catch a break. Squinting, you clicked on the message notifications and brought up the first one.

[Hyunjin]: Hey Y/N, can you help me study today? There’s something I can’t seem to get down

You clicked out of it, and onto the next one

[Seungmin]: Y/N! I know this is sudden, but could you help me with something? I’ll tell you what it is when you message me back

[Seungmin]: It’s okay if you’re busy, though. It’s something with my photography course

You yawned and sat up, leaning against your bed frame, and clicked back onto Hyunjin’s message

[Y/N]: What do you need help with? Seungmin’s asked for my help today as well, so maybe we could all hang out together?

Going back to Seungmin’s chat, you started another message

[Y/N]: I can try!

[Y/N]: Hyunjin wants my help with studying, so if we could all meet up together, I could probably try to help you both.

You suddenly got two more messages.

[Hyunjin]: Sure, he can come if he wants, but he might slow us down haha

[Seungmin]: Don’t think this is something Hyunjin can help with, but I can work with it if you really wanna study with him

You breathed out a laugh. They were so obvious.

 ----

After some time trying to convince Hyunjin, you finally arranged that you’d meet up at Seungmin’s dorm room, since that was where all his equipment was, and you and Hyunjin could just as easily study there as anywhere else.

“Hyunjin!” You called, and the boy in front of you turned around

“Hey Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of the dorm entrance and waiting for you to catch up with him “How are you?”

“I’m doing okay,” you smiled and began walking inside “Hopefully Seungmin can get what he needs while I’m helping you,”

Hyunjin noticeably huffed

“It might be really messy in there- you know, it’s much better to study in a clean environment-”

“Hyunjin we talked about this,” You raised your hand, and ruffled his hair, to which he practically yelped at, and began to fix it as soon as you took your hand away “By coming to Seungmin’s, everyone wins. Besides, your house is way further than the dorm rooms,”

Hyunjin pouted, and muttered a small ‘I guess so’

“You’re cute,” You chuckled

The boy immediately perked up, and his ears lit aflame with red. He tried to say something in response, but nothing coherent came out.

You eventually made it to Seungmin’s room, where you were about to knock, but were interrupted with the door swinging open, and a paint-stained Jisung came out

“Oh- hey Y/N!” He smiled at you, before looking at Hyunjin “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Hwang Hyunjin,” Hyunjin said, squaring his chest in a prideful manner

“Name’s Han Jisung,” The boy said in return, smiling lopsidedly “Oh, I’m kinda in a rush- there’s a painting I wanna get done today and I just ran out of a colour- Seungmin’s inside, catch you later!”

“Y/N!” Seungmin smiled, from his desk, looking at you from the open door “Thanks for coming, come in,”

“Thanks, Seung,” You started inside, followed by Hyunjin

“How do you know…what was his name? Han Jisung?” Hyunjin asked

“I’ve been to Seungmin’s dorm a couple times. The two are roommates as you probably guessed,”

Hyunjin blinked

“…You’ve never been to my house before,”

“Seungmin and I have been friends since high school, Hyunjin,” You laughed slightly “And like I said, your house is far away,”

The boy behind you scowled at Seungmin, who gave a smug, triumphant look back.

“This place is…” Hyunjin started, looking around for the first time “…cluttered,”

The room alone was full of supplies, most of which you assumed to be Seungmin’s, since they were more photography than visual arts, not like the two didn’t overlap, however. A large window was open at the back of the room, allowing in a lot of natural light. Seungmin ignored Hyunjin’s comment.

“You two can study over there,” He started, pointing to a desk positioned in front of the window “The lighting is good there, just sit on opposite sides, so I can get Y/N alone,”

 ----

You and Hyunjin had gotten settled and began to study. You mostly ended up teaching each other more so than just you teaching Hyunjin. Occasionally, Seungmin would bend down and snap a photo of you, or try to get higher above. It was hard to ignore at first, but eventually you started to not see it, especially when Hyunjin began explaining something that you’d been having trouble with for a while- he explained it quite well too.

“Y/N, could you face me just a tiny bit? Just your body,” Seungmin asked

“One second, Seung,” You replied, waving a dismissing hand and leaning more toward Hyunjin

Seungmin frowned and looked to Hyunjin, who only glanced back at Seungmin for a second before turning his attention back to you, but the entire second was so full of arrogance that Seungmin could’ve crushed his camera if it weren’t so expensive and he weren’t a broke college student.

Hyunjin would be lying if he told himself that he didn’t want to desperately see the photos that Seungmin was taking of you. You looked perfect in the lighting, and even though the room wasn’t his style, it did have a lot of plants that worked well with the scattered art supplies, and when you were put in the foreground, it was the most charming thing he’d ever seen. Seungmin, although Hyunjin despised to admit it, was also a pretty good photographer, and any photos he’d glimpsed of you taken by his enemy, he immediately fell in love with.

 ----

“Okay,” Seungmin said “That should be enough, thanks so much for helping me out Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you,”

“Yes!” Hyunjin cheered, shutting his book “Can we leave now? This place gives me anxiety, we can study at your place?” 

You chuckled slightly as Seungmin glared at Hyunjin.

“Are you done work for the day, Seung? Or are you gonna edit those photos too?” You turned to Seungmin, and Hyunjin’s shoulders sagged when you didn’t reply to him

“No, I’ll just edit them tomorrow,” He shrugged “Why? Want me to come over and cook for you?”

“Cook for her-?” Hyunjin started

“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” You said, standing up and stretching “Come on, Hyunjin, we’ll study at my place then,”

“…and Seungmin’s coming?”

“Yeah, he’s actually a pretty good cook when he tries,”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, before beginning to gather his stuff, and slinging his bag over his shoulder, and you did the same.

 ----

The three of you arrived at your dorm just as the sun had started to go down

You let the other two in, both of them, and you, taking your shoes off before you walked to the couch pressed against the wall, and fell back on it, yawning.

“Oh-” Hyunjin started “Are you tired? Sorry if I was-”

“No no, don’t worry puppy,”

“Puppy?” both of them quickly asked, Seungmin, who was already heading towards the kitchen, snapping his head sideways in your direction

“You two are so uptight,” You smiled “Hold on, can I get changed quickly? I don’t like being in proper clothes when I’m in my own dorm,”

“Y-yeah- of course-” Hyunjin blushed, and looked back to Seungmin, who didn’t seem phased by the request, and he assumed that that’s what you would normally do

As soon as you were out of sight, Seungmin turned to Hyunjin, eyebrows furrowed harshly.

“Puppy’s my nickname,” Seungmin said, his tone accusatory

“What?” Hyunjin squinted “I’ve never heard her call you that before. Not my fault that I get the pet name,”

“You-”

Seungmin scrunched his nose and whipped out his phone, immediately opening your messages and scrolling up, stopping and shoving the screen into Hyunjin’s face, where it clearly displayed you referring to him as ‘puppy’ in casual conversation.

Hyunjin stared for a moment.

“That’s not-”

“I was her friend first,” Seungmin sneered

“At least is Y/N was with me I’d actually be able to support her. What do photographers earn?”

Seungmin suddenly jumped on Hyunjin, tackling him backwards, luckily onto the couch.

“You’re just a spoiled trust fund kid!” Seungmin growled, his hands pressed against Hyunjin’s shoulders, and Hyunjin opened his mouth to retaliate

“Geez,” Your voice came from the side, and they both turned to you, eyes wide “You two are really frustrating sometimes,”

You were wearing a black pair of sweat-pants, and a plain white t-shirt over-top, a view that made both of the boys’ thoughts immediately go to waking up next to you in the morning

“Y/N!” Seungmin gasped, and began to get off of Hyunjin, but you held up a hand

“No, stay there, puppy,” You smiled, and began walking up to them “It’s cute how you both think I don’t know what’s been happening. How dumb do you think I am?”

“We don’t think you’re-” Hyunjin began, talking off pure instinct, but you shushed him

“Wait- you know what’s been going on?!” Seungmin’s eyes became clouded with confusion

“You two are so loud, like, all the time. You don’t think I can’t hear you?”

“Then why haven’t you said anything-?” He continued, and Hyunjin just sat there, still trying to process the situation

“What do you want me to do? Choose between one of you?”

“Yes!” Seungmin started “Come on, Y/N, if you’ve known what’s been happening why didn’t you say anything sooner?! I’ve been having to hang out with this insufferable rich kid for too long!”

You sighed and began to walk up to the two of them.

“It’s a shame you two are both too prideful to let me choose both,”

“What-” Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed even further

“You’d look so pretty fucking each other...” You smiled, and ran your fingers through Seungmin’s hair, who was still on top of Hyunjin

Seungmin let out an involuntary whine from the back of his throat when you’d said that, and he immediately slammed his mouth shut afterwards, his entire face going red.

“Y-Y/N-” Hyunjin stuttered “Are you...offering to have sex?”

“Depends whether you two will let me play with you. Both of you,” You smiled at Hyunjin

The two made eye contact with each other, before they looked away, both their faces red now.

“You two are so frustrating. You always fight right in front of me like I can’t hear you. Maybe forcing you to look each other right in the eyes with one of your cocks inside the other’s ass will shut you up, hm?”

“Y/N...” Hyunjin breathed in “I...come on...you don’t mean that, right?”

“Yeah Y/N! You can’t expect me to- to fuck someone like him?!”

“You two have been real pains lately,” You shrugged “Don’t you think you should make it up to mommy?”

“Mommy-” They both repeated, their entire face, down to their necks going red

Once again, they met eyes.

“If we’ve really been inconveniencing her for so long...” Hyunjin muttered

“Now way!” Seungmin started, and he finally got off of Hyunjin, standing up properly and turning to you desperately “Hyunjin is-”

“Then you can just watch while I fuck Hyunjin instead?”

Seungmin paused

“...I’ll do it,”

You smiled, a devilish smirk that left both of the boys speechless, shivers going down their spine.

“Good,”

You turned around, and began walking towards the bedroom. Hyunjin sheepishly got off the couch and started following you, refusing to look at Seungmin, and Seungmin stayed still for a moment, before finally, he started walking too.

“I have a question,” You said, sitting down on the bed and turning to the boys once they were both in the room

They looked to you

“Have you ever fucked anyone the same gender as you?”

Hyunjin hesitated before shaking his head, and Seungmin stayed still, his blush deepening.

“...Seung?” You turned to the younger boy

“I-...” Seungmin started, shifting uncomfortably and glancing to Hyunjin, then back to you, before averting his eyes “I’m a virgin,”

You blinked

“Oh...oh no...”

“Really?!” Hyunjin turned to him, eyes wide “But you’re so-”

The boy paused, and then clamped his mouth shut. Both you and Seungmin turned curiously to Hyunjin.

“What were you gonna say, Hyunjin?” You asked, a smile finding it’s way onto your face again

Hyunjin mumbled, so quiet that you couldn’t hear, but Seungmin seemed to catch it, as his eyes widened and he sputtered slightly, as if trying to make sense of the words he’d just heard.

“What’d he say?” You turned to Seungmin

“...He said- he said I’m really pretty-”

You laughed

“Well he’s right,” You shrugged before getting up, and walking up to Seungmin “But we don’t have to do this. You shouldn’t have to have a threesome as your first time,”

“But I don’t want Hyunjin-”

“I won’t do it with just Hyunjin,”

Hyunjin turned to you, as if scandalised, but you glared at him, and he pouted, but didn’t say anything, still understanding that it would be unfair to Seungmin.

“...I’ve made out with guys before...” Seungmin muttered, and then added “and girls,”

“You can say you want some time to think about it,” You soothed, and cupped Seungmin’s hand in your cheek

“Uh...we can try...starting off small...” Hyunjin piped in

Your eyebrows instinctively raised.

“You seem eager, Hyunjin” You smiled “Before too, when I first asked you guys. Hyunjin, how long have you wanted to fuck Seung?”

Hyunjin immediately looked away.

“I just think he’s good looking, I still hate him!”

“What about you, Seung? What do you think of Hyunjin?”

“...his hair is nice...” He said, and opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything else

“And?”

“And...more than once I’ve thought about running my hands through it...”

You suddenly started laughing, and rather loudly too, as the boys both burned red.

“Then make out,” you said, finally calming down

Hyunjin and Seungmin squeaked at the abruptness of the suggestion, but before either could say anything more, you pulled Hyunjin and sat him on the bed, before pulling Seungmin and making him straddle the boy. You didn’t actually do much, just pushed them towards each other.  

You sat on the bed too, but up against the bed frame. Neither of them looked at you, just sat, seemingly staring at each other’s lips, before finally, Seungmin leaned in. You smirked as their lips locked. It started off timid, but got heated much quicker than you thought it would.

Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Seungmin, and pulled him closer, practically pressing their bodies together, and Seungmin’s hands went up to Hyunjin’s hair, where he not only ran his fingers through it, but tugged it, and not lightly either. Hyunjin moaned slightly, and Seungmin swore against the other boys’ lips in return.

They eventually pulled away, both of them already a mess, breathing hard.

“Made up your mind yet, Seung?” You smiled, and he turned to you, and, very slightly, he nodded

“Good boy,” You beckoned Seungmin over, and moved from your spot, directing him to sit where you were, up against the bed frame.

You went up behind Hyunjin, who was still sat on the side of the bed, and you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear.

“You were always so much meaner to Seung than he was to you,” You whispered

“That’s not true!” Hyunjin retaliated “He was only nice in front of you...”

“Yeah? Did he ever insult the way you lived, or your career choice? Those are pretty hard hits, you know?”

Hyunjin pouted

“No...”

“So, don’t you think you should apologise to him?” You kissed his ear, and your hands crept around him, where you grabbed the hem of his shirt, and lifted it up. Hyunjin lifted his arms up to help you get it off “Why don’t you suck him off like a good puppy?”

You went around Hyunjin and got off the bed, standing up and watching as, after taking a deep breath, Hyunjin crawled over to Seungmin.

“Holy fuck,” Seungmin breathed in sharply

“Please don’t say anything...” Hyunjin muttered, unable to take his eyes off the sheets and face the boy above him

“Jinnie, you should look at people when apologising,” You tutted, and reached to his hair, tugging it so that he was looking up to Seungmin “And Seungmin, its mean to be clothed when Hyunjin doesn’t have a shirt on, right?”

Seungmin nodded slowly, and took off his shirt.

Breathing out, Hyunjin reached to the fly of Seungmin’s pants, and slowly unzipped it, and he took out Seungmin’s cock.

Hyunjin shivered when he was met with the fully hard and angry red dick, and he leaned in, opening his mouth before you tugged him back.

“I didn’t hear an apology yet,” You condescended

“Mommy...” Seungmin muttered “It’s okay,”

“Didn’t it make you feel bad whenever Hyunjin criticised your choices? Being a photographer is what you’re passionate about,”

Seungmin opened his mouth to reply, but Hyunjin interrupted.

“I’m sorry Seungmin,” He whispered, and you could tell he meant it “I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I just...”

There was a short moment of silence, before Hyunjin attached his lips to Seungmin’s cock. Seungmin let out a surprisingly loud moan. Hyunjin paused, and you remembered that he’d never sucked a cock before, so, with your hand still on the back of his head, you slowly pushed him down, and once you thought he was far down enough, you brought him back up, so his lips were at the very tip. Hyunjin kissed it, before going back down again on his own.

“F-fuck- ah- Hyunjin-” Seungmin moaned, bucking up into the boy’s mouth

You could tell Hyunjin almost gagged from that, but he regained his composure quickly, and even groaned around it.

You got up from the bed, and went to the closet, quickly pulling out a box and grabbing a strap and a bottle of lube. Hyunjin couldn’t see, but Seungmin couldn’t help but watch you with lidded, pleasure-filled eyes. You smiled at him, and went behind Hyunjin, climbing onto the bed where Hyunjin momentarily paused at the dip in the mattress before continuing.

You reached to Hyunjin’s fly, and undid it.

“Mommy-” Hyunjin started, interrupting himself with a whimper when you pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, exposing his ass and practically dripping cock to the air

“Jinnie, mommy’s gonna finger you, okay?”

“F-finger me-?”

You stayed silent, and Hyunjin nervously nodded before going back to Seungmin’s cock- he needed something to distract himself.

Seungmin intertwined his own hand with Hyunjin’s hair, and began controlling Hyunjin’s movements slightly, and Hyunjin made no move against him.

Grabbing the lube, you squirted some on your finger, and slowly pressed it against Hyunjin’s hole. Hyunjin let out an abrupt whine, and his body jolted. You rubbed his thigh before pushing inside him. He visibly tensed, and stopped moving his head while it was halfway down Seungmin.

“it’s okay, baby,” You soothed, and rubbed his thigh, before beginning to, very slowly, move

Hyunjin moaned some more, muffled by Seungmin’s cock, and Seungmin whined, seemingly getting a satisfactory amount of pleasure just from the vibrations of the other boy’s moans. You took your finger out, and added more lube, before sticking them both in, immediately starting to move them in and out. Hyunjin jolted again, and kept whining.

“Mommy-” Seungmin started “His eyes are teary-”

You paused.

“Fuck! A safe-word!” You slapped your forehead with your non-lubed hand “I’m so sorry puppies, I got so distracted,”

Hyunjin finally moved his head again, and took a deep breath in when he finally let his lips off Seungmin’s cock.

“I didn’t want you to stop...” He muttered

“It’s still important puppy,” You squeezed his thigh, and he whined

“What about ‘kitty’?” Seungmin asked

You breathed out a laugh

“Hyunjin? Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah-” Hyunjin stuttered

You nodded shortly before you started moving again, and Hyunjin immediately moaned. It was much louder than when he was muffled by Seungmin’s cock, you were almost surprised.

“You weren’t keeping your pretty lips on Seungmin’s dick just so you could quiet your noses, right puppy?” You asked, and Hyunjin gulped, sensing the threat within the question

“N-no mommy-”

“Try to purposefully hide your sounds again, puppy, and I won’t hold back, got it?”

Hyunjin nodded, before going back to Seungmin’s cock.

Seungmin swore and shut his eyes. You got off the bed, and quickly took off your pants and shirt. Grabbing the strap-on, you secured it to yourself and lubed it up generously. Hearing a sudden slurping sound, and a loud moan, you turned back to the two boys, where Hyunjin had started going much faster, and Seungmin was bucking up towards him.

“Fuck- Hyunjin that- ahh-” Seungmin whined, and you smirked, biting your lip at the high-pitched sounds

“Hyunjin, stop,” You said, and he did, ripping a loud whine from Seungmin

“Mommy-” Seungmin whined, turning to you, eyes glazed over and a pout decorating his face “Mommy why-”

“I don’t need you cumming just yet, puppy,” You shot an innocent smile at him, and climbed on the bed, lining yourself up with Hyunjin “Besides, I wanna hear Jinnie’s noises properly for a bit, don’t you?”

Seungmin quickly nodded, and his grip on Hyunjin’s hair tightened, making the boy beneath him whine.

Slowly you pushed in, and Hyunjin tensed, groaning and burying his face into the side of Seungmin’s bare thigh, somewhere along the lines, you noticed, Seungmin’s pants had completely come off, something you were disappointed that you missed.

Once you were fully inside, you stopped. Hyunjin shifted a couple times, moaning every time the dildo moved inside of him.

“O-okay,” He finally muttered, and you started moving

Hyunjin was immediately responsive, whining and trying to move back in time with you, but you could tell it also hurt. His fists were clenched so hard the were white, and he was biting into Seungmin’s thigh, made obvious from the way Seungmin was biting his lip, and struggling not to whine in pain.

You slowly started going faster, and Hyunjin began moaning louder. You leaned forward and grabbed his hair directing his head back to Seungmin’s cock, where he immediately began sucking again, bobbing up and down in time with your thrusts, and slurping loudly. Seungmin’s moans were whiny and high-pitched, and unlike Hyunjin, he didn’t make any attempt to muffle or hide them, something you dearly appreciated

Taking your hand off Hyunjin’s head, you grabbed his cock, and began jerking him off. Despite his moans still being muffled, they became almost as loud as when they weren’t barely a minute ago.

“M-mommy I need to- ahh- ah fuck- I need to c-cum-” Seungmin moaned

“Why don’t you cum on Jinnie’s face for me, hm?”

Hyunjin whined, and raised his head. Hesitating for only a moment, Seungmin started jerking himself off, aiming towards Hyunjin’s face, and with a loud moan, he came. You continued fucking Hyunjin harder and harder, annoyed that you couldn’t see Hyunjin’s expression, but you were sure you’d get another chance.

Seungmin stopped moaning, switching to breathing heavily, and staring open-mouthed and Hyunjin, who was now moaning shamelessly, occasionally kissing Seungmin’s cock, and you could see Hyunjin rubbing his cheek against the length of it, smearing around the cum that had landed there.

“Mommy-” Hyunjin started “I-”

You pulled out, and Hyunjin whined, moaning painfully and immediately turning to face you. His face was still covered with cum, some smeared and some left along, but he looked perfect, his lips even more swollen and red than normal.

“I wanna see you cum on Seung’s face,” You smirked “Seungmin, kneel on the ground,”

Seungmin followed your orders, and quickly went to the side of the bed, kneeling down and looking up to you with large doe eyes.

You turned Hyunjin so he was facing Seungmin, and went behind Hyunjin, immediately beginning to jerk him off again. Hyunjin bucked up into your hand and you attached your lips to the boy’s neck, biting down harshly. It was only another couple seconds before Hyunjin’s body practically started shaking, and stroked of white cum began decorating Seungmin’s face. Seungmin kept his mouth open, allowing some of it to land in there, while the rest went around.

“Fuck,” You growled, and Hyunjin’s breath seemed to hitch at the tone of your voice

Seungmin opened his eyes, and once again looked up to you. Hyunjin leaned forward slightly, and smeared his cum around Seungmin’s face with his thumb.

You moved back and took off the strap, and both the boys seemed to come out of a trance, and they glanced at each other before scrambling towards you.

“Mommy!” Seungmin whined “I wanna eat you out- please- hah-”

“I was better behaved!” Hyunjin shouted

“How?!” Seungmin yelled back

You rolled your eyes before sitting against the bed frame, and spreading your legs, revealing just how wet you were. The two boys gulped, watching intently as you ran two fingers over your slit, and brought them up, making a V-pose, showing the two the cum stretching between the fingers.

“See how wet you two both made me?” You smiled “You should both take care of it, hm?”

They glanced at each other one more time

“I wanna suck mommy’s tits,” Hyunjin said breathlessly

“Yes!” Seungmin cheered, smiling brightly

“Come here, Hyunjin,” You beckoned him to your side, and he followed

You placed your hand on his head, and guided his lips to your nipple, where he immediately began sucking, and you groaned. Seungmin crawled up to you, and you smirked before grabbing his head with your other hand, and guiding him to your dripping pussy.

Seungmin licked a long stripe up it, kissing it before taking your clit between his lips, and sucking softly.

“That’s right puppies,” You groaned “You’re making mommy feel so good,”

The two seemed to be fuelled by your praise, and they immediately sped up. Seungmin brought his fingers up to your pussy, and slowly pushed them in, immediately beginning to thrust them in and out, while Hyunjin started rubbing and groping the nipple he wasn’t sucking.

“Fuck fuck- ah-” You moaned

Watching the two cum-covered boys so eager to pleasure you, and having been worked up for so long, it didn’t take long for you to need to cum.

“I’m cumming Seung,” You moaned, and the boy immediately started going faster, along with Hyunjin

You let out a long, loud moan as you came, and Seungmin breathlessly started lapping up any cum he could. You calmed down, and both the boys pulled away, cum dripping down Seungmin’s chin.

There was a moments pause before Hyunjin leaned forward and cupped Seungmin’s face in his hands, and began kissing him, immediately sticking his tongue into the boy’s mouth. Seungmin kissed back, their faces pressed so close together that some of the cum started smearing against each other.

Finally Hyunjin pulled away, and licked his lips.

“See? Wasn’t so hard to make up right?” You smiled

The two boys sat there, breathing hard and burning red.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

CH7- Home, Sweet Home

Summary: Frank and Fliss find their perfect family home, but there’s something bothering Mary.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Discussions about suicide. A little bit of angst.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is a bit of an emotionally charged filler chapter…and we move time on a little through to June in the middle. And photos of the Adler house are included at the bottom so you can visualise what I used for inspiration.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 6

You’re giving it another try, staring at the deep blue sky, and you say to the driver just drive, coz you never felt so alive.

 April 2019

“Hey honey, you ok?” Frank juggled his phone, pinning it between his ear and his shoulder as he leaned over his computer in the office, scanning the database on the screen for a filter part they needed to order. 

“No, I mean yes! I’ve just heard some awesome news!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, so you remember the guy that bought the house that backs onto the yard when Old Man River died…” “That wasn’t his name.” Frank chuckled “It was Mr Morris.”

“He called himself River, it was funny and suited him. Anyway, that’s not the point. You know the guy who bought it…guess what I found out before?”

Frank stopped what he was doing and straightened up. He didn’t like that dick, one bit. When Mr Morris had died at the start of the year, Fliss had been quite upset about the news as the old man had been very friendly to her, often popping in for a cup of tea a few afternoons a week for some company. Mr Morris’ son had sold the house without them even knowing it had gone on the market, which was a shame as it would have been perfect for them given the location. The guy who had bought it, Frank didn’t even know his name, nor did he care because he was a dick and a pervert to boot. The way he looked at Fliss made Frank want to punch his face in.

“What’s Douchey Mc Douchebag done now?”

“You’re so childish.” she scoffed “Anyway, I was only commenting to Joanne last night that we haven’t seen him for like a month and she went home and mentioned it to her dad who works with some other guy in the property development business and the long and short of it is he’s gone bankrupt Frank!”

Frank laughed loudly “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, babe!”

“I know right!” Fliss voice was gathering pace and pitch, the way it always did when she was excited. “So literally about half hour after she’s told me this, someone turns up and there’s a For Sale sign outside, the house is on the market!”

Ok now he was interested. Frank could picture the look of excitement on her face as she spoke to him and he felt the smile cross his face “No shit?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you the website to look at the photos but…oh God, it would be perfect! Some of it is really nice, some of it needs decorating but…”

“Ok, well, why don’t you call the realtor? Arrange a viewing” he said “Hopefully you won’t puke halfway round this one.”

“Ok, first off that wasn’t my fault. Bean objected to the smell. Who the fuck cooks eggs the day they know they have someone coming to view their house?” her indignant tone made Frank chuckle “And second off…”she paused “I already did. He said he can meet us at half 12.”

“Half 12? As in lunch time? Today?” Frank frowned.

“I know I just really don’t want to miss out on this one Frank, and you said you were gonna come up here for lunch and-”

“Ok, ok.” Frank sighed “I’ll shuffle some stuff around, work a little later tonight and take an extra half hour.”

“I love you.” she replied and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Good job I love you too.” he said back gruffly “Because you’re a pain in my ass.”

He bid her goodbye and just as he was looking at the rota to make sure there were enough staff in to cope if he took a longer lunch, his phone beeped. He clicked through to the link Fliss had sent him and had a scan through the photos. To be fair the house didn’t look in too bad condition. It was deceptive from the outside, looked like a small farmhouse but they knew thanks to the extension Douchebag had put on the back it now formed an L shape and from the look of it, was pretty spacious. The kitchen was new, the main bathroom was new so the big work looked like it had been mostly done. The décor in some of the rooms was really old fashioned, especially the hallway you and the front reception room, but that was all cosmetic. What really grabbed him was the price. It was up for just over 320 thousand, which was a fucking steal considering the size, location, the garden and the garage/outhouse it came with.

“You ok Frank?”

He looked up and smiled as Alan, his boss walked in to the office. “Yeah, sorry, Fliss has found a house and managed to book a viewing for lunch time. Fucking 7th one in 2 weeks.”

Alan snorted “Keeping you on your toes I see?”

“Well I gotta say, this one’s looking pretty good. It’s the house that backs onto our Yard out in Pinellas Park.” Frank explained “It was sold not even 6 months ago to a developer and he’s apparently gone bankrupt so put it back on the market.”

“Huh.” Alan smiled “Sounds like it was meant to be. Take it you’re going then?”

“Yeah, Charlie and Gary are in all afternoon. I thought I could take an extra half hour, work it back tonight or…”

“Frank, when was the last time you actually took a full hour for your lunch and didn’t cut it short by 10 or 15?” Alan looked at him.

Frank hesitated “Yeah, but that’s-”

“No buts.” Alan shook his head. “Do what you gotta do.”

“Thanks Alan.” Frank smiled, “I appreciate it.”

Alan waved away his gratitude before he dropped into the chair on the opposite side of Frank’s small desk and gestured for Frank to sit down.

“I wanted to talk to you in person, before the news gets out. I’m looking at retiring Frank, fully this time.”

“That’s good news, for you I mean.” Frank smiled, taking his seat. “You must be happy?”

“Kinda bitter sweet.” He shrugged “But I hit 70 this year and bout time I let it all go. Bill’s already chomping at the bit to book damned fishing trips so...it’ll be nice to step back. But I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

“My son, James is going to be taking over, that won’t come as any surprise to you as you’ve seen him knocking around a bit and he likes you.”

“Good to know I’m not going to be out on my ass.” Frank smiled, breathing out a little.

“No, not a chance. I wouldn’t allow it.” Alan said “I’ll still be the owner, just stepping back from major decision making and day to day running. Anyway, the point is Frank, James needs a deputy. He is young and a little inexperienced. I’ve seen how quickly over the last year you’ve picked up rotas, staffing issues, dealt with the stock takes, haggled with the supply chain…I wondered if you’d consider it.”

Frank blinked “You wanna make me deputy manager?”

“In a word, yes. And I know you got your hands full at the moment and they’ll be even more full when that boy of yours arrives but the changes won’t come into effect until the end of the year so we got plenty of time to work out the details.”

“Wow, I err…” Frank shook his head “I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t need an answer now.” Alan said, “Take some time to consider it. Talk it over with Fliss.”

“I will, I’ll give it some thought.”

“Ok, well, that’s all I dropped in for.” Alan said, standing up, groaning a little “Did you just hear my damned knees click?”

Frank laughed and shook his head “No, but to be honest mine click too so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Getting old sucks.” Alan said, shaking his head “I tell ya, the minute I can’t enjoy the simple things in life, put a bullet in my head.”

Frank snorted as Alan shot him a wink and left him to his thoughts.

******* Frank glanced down at the wooden boards beneath his feet in the entrance hall. They were solid old wood, oak he thought, and with a clean and polish would look stunning. He looked up and saw Fliss talking animatedly to the realtor, a young man called David as he nodded and gestured to his left. Fliss opened the door and looked at Frank who followed her into the first reception room. It smelt musty, and there was an old sofa and threadbare carpet in the room but it was light and had a nice, airey feeling to it thanks to the large windows at the front of the house.

“New carpet and a bit of paint…” Frank mused nodding, “Be good as new.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes shining a she looked around and nodded at the fire place “Really, in Florida?”

“It gets cold, as you know.” he teased “Besides, we just fill it with some of your million candles or whatever…”

She nudged him and they turned around, David watching them.

“So, you’re obviously in the older part of the house that hasn’t really been touched apart from upstairs.” he explained, “But if you follow me I’ll show you the extension which is all new and, well, to be honest, I think it’s stunning.”

The three of them moved back into the hall and through a door at the end which led into a huge open plan kitchen and living area. The kitchen was gorgeous. Sleek white units, modern appliances, marble tops, a huge breakfast bar. Douchebag had clearly spent a fortune doing this up. The floor was a light grey and white laminate which David pointed out was heavy wearing.  To the left of the kitchen area was a huge space where Frank could clearly picture their sofas and TV, and then just off that was a door which led into another smaller reception room, freshly painted and carpeted.  He was just pondering how they could turn that into a play room when Fliss gave a gasp and nudged Frank pointing to the large bay window at the back which had been converted into a seating nook of sorts. They made their way over and saw that the view extended right over their garden highlighting a small pool area which was surrounded by a low set of railings with a gate that were all painted a glossy black. The pool itself was sparklingly clean and clearly brand new.

“Oh wow… “ Fliss mumbled, looking at the sand stone tiles that surrounded the area and the rest of the garden.

“Yeah the rear garden loops in an L round the house” David said. “There’s a larger fence around this area to keep it private and separate from the land at the front that runs flush to the yard area.”

Frank’s hands dropping to her hips as he nodded to the right “Could extend that little patio area for a table and chairs, maybe build a brick BBQ. Couple of sun-loungers for that bit at the back of the pool.”

She nodded eagerly before they headed back into the hallway they’d entered into where the realtor showed them the little room that was to the right as you came in the door which held a number of shelves and coat hooks and a toilet and sink basin. They then headed up stairs to find 4 bedrooms. The master extended down the entire side of the house overlooking the main yard area of Sandybrook. It needed some work, the plaster and paint was peeling away in some areas, but Frank wasn’t worried at that. It was an easy job. What he was pleased to see was that the rest of it was in good condition. There was a brand new en-suite attached to it, housing a toilet, a huge shower and his and hers sinks. The room also had built in wardrobes and huge ceiling to floor bi-folding doors which opened up onto a small balcony. Douchebag had clearly been focussing on the big jobs first before he got into the cosmetics, which Frank had to give him credit for.

The main bathroom was in between the wall of their en-suite and the next bedroom, both situated at the back of the house over the extension and overlooking the fields belonging to the yard. The plaster was fresh in that bedroom but hadn’t been painted, again, not an issue, because Frank knew a certain little miss would be no doubt picking a colour as soon a she spotted this room.

“Bet Mary chooses this one.” Frank said, voicing his thoughts and Fliss nodded, smiling

“I would if the Master didn’t have that en-suite.” she grinned “Look at that view!”

“Yeah, who’d have thought you could work from home in the equestrian business” he chuckled as they then headed to the next bedroom on the opposite side of the landing. This was also rather large, but like the main part of the master bedroom, was clearly one of the original two bedrooms the house had and it needed some updating.

The 4th bedroom was a smaller one up a narrow set of stairs hidden by door in the hallway. It opened up into an attic room which tucked into the roof of the house.

The realtor then led them back down and the out to the outbuildings. There was a huge garage with a half- finished apartment of sorts above it that had been used as storage but could be easily a guest suite if they so wanted,  and then the thing Frank had really loved was the workshop off the side of the garage, accessed by a small door. It was musty and full of crap but was somewhere for him to store all his tools and work on any side projects he decided to pick up.

All in all Frank was finding it pretty damned hard to pick faults in the place.

As they headed back to the main house and Frank asked David politely to give them a moment to look around alone and he nodded eagerly before Frank and Fliss headed back into the house.

“I’m getting good vibes Sailor.” Fliss said as she turned round, looking at the kitchen, once more heading over to the bay window seat, “really good vibes.” she spun back to him and he smiled at the look on her face. “I mean, ok, a few rooms need decorating and there’s some finishing off bits to do all over but it’s nothing that dad can’t help with and I’m sure-“

At that she stopped dead, and gave a little gasp as her hand flew to her bump.

“You ok?” Frank stepped forward.

“Yeah he’s…” she swallowed “Bean’s kicking, Frankie! Quick!”

He reached out with his hand and she took it, pressing it to the side of her bump. After a second or two he felt something wriggle a little under his palm and he looked at Fliss, his face cracking into an open mouthed smile as he felt his son move for the first time.

“Lissy…” he swallowed his eyes misting over. “That’s…oh my God!”

“You should feel it from my POV!” Fliss smiled her own eyes glassy too.

Frank didn’t want to take his hand away. Instead, he kept moving his palm, tracking their baby’s movements when eventually they stopped.

“I think that means BB likes the house.” Fliss looked at him.

Frank scoffed, shaking his head. “BB’s Momma likes the house.”

“Doesn’t his Daddy?” she asked, her hands sliding round his neck.

“Yeah, his Daddy does.” he replied honestly in a low voice as he looked around the large room. “In fact, I like it a lot.”

“You think Mary will?”

“Are you kidding?” Frank snorted “Soon as she sees that view and that pool, she’ll be packing to move in straight away.”

“Suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Fliss smiled.

So they did. They brought Mary back the next day after school. She had squealed at the window seat, yelled about the pool and as she had shot upstairs and headed into the bedroom Frank had predicted she would like, given a jump for joy as she realised from the upstairs she had a view over the tall picket fencing that shielded the private area of the garden.

“I can see Monty!” she gleefully pointed out before turning to Frank and looking at him then to Fliss, her hands on her hips “If you don’t buy this house you’re a pair of dumbasses.”

The same sentiment was echoed by Bill when he turned up fifteen minutes or so later and walked around with Frank whilst Fliss and Mary headed to feed the horses. He did exactly the same thing he had done when they had looked at the apartment, pointed out what they needed to do, how long it should take them to do, rough estimates of cost. Plus, he also reminded Frank they were in a great position. They could buy the place and then give his months’ notice on the apartment meaning they could stay where they were until it was finished.

So that was it. Decision made. The next morning they went in with a cheeky offer, some twenty thou below the asking price which was rejected instantly. Then they upped their offer by five…then an additional three to total eight, with the fact that they were cash buyers and not in a chain a huge bargaining chip.

It was later that evening, just after they had finished dinner when the realtor called back.

“Evening Mr Adler, ok so…I have spoken to the vendor. He says if you can up your offer by another two thousand then you’ve got a deal.” David spoke. At that, Frank let out a huge grin, as he looked out of the kitchen window at Mary and Fliss who were outside the apartment, both sat on a chair round the table. He and Fliss had both agreed they were prepared to go to the full asking price, in their mind it was worth it, but they were about to seal the deal here for ten thousand less.

 “Ok, two thousand more.” Frank said, keeping his voice level “But the property comes off the market as we don’t want anyone else spotting it and offering him more before we exchange contracts.” he repeated word for word what Greg had instructed him to do when he had asked him to handle the conveyancing earlier that morning.

“Ok, so the offer on the table is Three-ten on the proviso he grants exclusivity…” David repeated. “Ok, leave it with me.”

Frank finished loading the dishwasher, and had just grabbed himself a beer when David called back not even five minutes later.

“Congratulations Mr Adler, you have a deal.”

He thanked him, and grinning ear to ear headed outside, jumping down the steps onto the lawn.

“What you looking so pleased about?” Fliss looked up at him suspiciously.

“David called… we’ve settled on three-ten plus exclusivity” he smiled

“What, you mean…” Fliss’ mouth fell open and Frank nodded.

“Yup, subject to contracts, the place is ours!”

Mary gave a loud cheer as Fliss jumped up and leapt at him as he smiled, wrapping her in his arms, swinging her up slightly.

“I can’t believe it…” she whispered. “Our own home!”

“I know” he beamed, setting her down as he gave her a quick peck. “I’ll call Greg in the morning. When I talked to him about it he said that with no loans involved it shouldn’t take too long. We could be looking a having the keys in a month.” His hands dropped to her hips, palms resting either side of where his son was growing “So plenty of time to do his nursery.”

Fliss grinned and using the arms that were round his neck pulled his face down to hers and pressed a fierce kiss to his mouth. “God I love you.” she mumbled.

“Love you too.” he grinned, kissing her again, ignoring Mary’s fake puking noises in the background.

*****

June 2019

“Mr Adler?"

Frank stopped as he had been striding over the yard to collect Mary and turned to see Mrs McCarthy, her teacher walking towards him.

"Hi." He smiled, removing his sunglasses so he could look her in the eyes.

"I'm so sorry to bother you"

"No bother at all." He assured her "is everything OK?"

Mrs McCarthy glanced over to where Mary was stood talking to her friend, Rosie, and turned back to him

"Yes...nothing too drastic but I wanted to make you aware about a little incident in class this afternoon"

Frank looked at her, blinking "incident?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word." The older, blonde woman said "Look, as you know next week it's the end of year Gala, the fundraiser and we invite the parents to join us for activities.”

Frank nodded, wishing the woman would get to the damned point. He was hot, dirty and bothered after an afternoon of helping the team on a particularly awkward repair and wanted nothing more than to stand under a cold shower for an hour and flop down outside with a beer.

"Well, one of the girls asked Mary if she was bringing her mom and if they were making anything for the bake sale and Mary rather bluntly told the girl her mother was dead and then clammed up. She didn't speak a word for the rest of the afternoon."

Frank felt his chest tighten as he looked over at Mary who was now giggling with Rosie and sighed

"She didn't do anything wrong" Mrs McCarthy pressed "I was just a little worried."

"Thanks for letting me know, I'll talk to her later, make sure she's okay." Frank assured her.

The woman nodded and headed back across the yard as Frank gave a sharp whistle and slid his aviators back onto his face. Mary looked up and said goodbye to Rosie and came wandering over as Frank waved to Rosie's mom who tossed a hand in greeting in response.

"I'm not Thor" She fixed Frank with a stare.

"I know but I couldn't be bothered walking over." He replied honestly as they climbed into the truck

"You have a good day?"

"It was OK." She shrugged. Frank eyed her for a second before she pulled the car away from the kerb and set off down the road.

"What's for dinner?" Mary asked.

"Steak, baked potatoes and salad." He replies "Fliss' choice."

"Are you grilling?" Mary asked.

"Yup." He nodded

"Cool." Mary nodded "Can I go in the pool before?"

"Got any homework?" Frank countered with another question as he looked at her. Mary shook her head

“End of year next week and Uni didn't give me any summer work."

"Then yeah, of course you can.”

Frank didn't raise the so called incident, deciding to let her chill out a little bit at home first and digest how she felt. After 20 minutes or so of general chat Frank pulled up their driveway and stopped the truck next to Fliss' truck. As they hopped out Mary glanced across the garden over the smaller part of the fence where she could just see Fliss walking across the yard.

"Please can I go see Monty?" She looked at Frank and he nodded.

"I'll watch you." He agreed. With a grin she sprinted over the lawn, climbed over the fence and dropped over onto the other side. Thor gave a bark and Fliss turned round and smiled at her, before she waved at Frank. He waved back before he headed down the side of the house, through the gate in the larger fence before he unlocked the back door and stepped inside the cool air conditioned kitchen, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to the fridge for a beer. Draining half in one he stood, looking around and smiling. They’d finally unpacked the last box yesterday evening and Fliss was still in the process of moving things around their new home, positioning them where she wanted them.

True to Greg’s word, they’d had the keys to the house 4 and a half weeks after making the offer, and 2 weeks post that once the bedrooms and hall had been decorated with a lot of help from Bill, Verity and Roberta (who had been happy for them yet still cried her eyes out when they’d left the park, despite the fact they had assured her they would still come visit and she could also come stay with them too) they’d moved in. The only thing left to do was the reception room (which could wait, it was easy to just shut the door and pretend it didn’t exist) and Bean’s nursery, which he, Fliss and Mary had decided to do together as a project. Mary and Fliss had spent nights pouring over Pinterest for ideas and they’d finally settled on a scheme. Frank had picked up all the plastering supplies and the paint, the furniture was on order and should be arriving at any time that week now he thought about it…so hopefully that weekend they could get cracking. That might cheer Mary up now he thought about it.

Taking his beer with him, he picked up his boots and took them to the cloakroom/bathroom by the stairs. He trudged up the steps, shaking his head at Fred who was led at the top, his paws hanging over the edge of the step as he eyed Frank.

"You're gonna cause a fucking accident." He looked at the ginger cat who merely swished his tail in response. Frank headed into their bedroom, stripping off as he went, walking straight into the en-suite, turning on the shower, setting his beer down on the edge of the sink unit. He stepped in and under the stream of cool water, closing the screen behind him, his mind still on Mary and how he was going to bring up what her teacher has said. With a groan he opened the door, reached out of the cubicle for his beer, took another gulp before he set about washing the grime of the day away.

***** "Have you finished grooming him?" Fliss asked, standing in the doorway to Monty's stable. Mary glanced over from where she had been brushing through his white tail and nodded.

"Wanna take him to the paddock?" Fliss smiled. "Cap and Bronson are waiting for their little pal."

"Sure." Mary shrugged and Fliss frowned a little at her demeanour. She was quiet, which was unlike her when she was round the horses. She was normally full of excitement.

"You OK?" She asked and Mary nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem quiet, that's all."

"No, I'm good." She shrugged, before she tossed her brush into the little grooming box she had, closing the lid and passing it to Fliss. Fliss placed the box into the larger wooden one outside the stable before Mary put Monty's halter on and led him out of his stall. Fliss allowed them to walk ahead, her hand on her bump as she followed them out of the yard and down the little path to the gate that led to the paddocks. They reached the one were Monty was going and undoing the gate, Mary led him in. The white pony stood patiently for her to take his halter off before he stuck his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Fliss smiled as Mary gently stroked his neck and then to her utter horror she saw Mary’s shoulders begin to shake as the girl started to cry.

"Hey, Mary..." she soothed, stepping forward as the small girl turned to her, wrapping her arms around her as best she could, pressing her face into her bump "Oh baby what's wrong?"

Mary didn’t reply, instead she continued to sob and Fliss felt powerless to do anything other than wrap her arms around her, one hand resting on her head, the other between her shoulders.

“Something happened at School…” Mary whispered and Fliss gently tipped her head up to look at her. “Someone said something and…”

“Ok, how about we go back to the office and you can tell me all about it ok?”

Mary nodded, sniffing as her sobs died down. Fliss held out her hand and Mary took it and together they headed back down to the yard. Joanne looked at Mary who was hiccupping slightly with her sobs and frowned but Fliss shook her head.

“Can you feed the top barn for me and then you can go.” she said to Jo who nodded. “I’ll lock up.” “Sure, see you tomorrow. Bye Mary.” she smiled. Mary looked at her and gave a small wave before Fliss led her into the office. She grabbed them both an apple juice from the fridge and then Mary sat on the chair at the end of the desk, wiping her eyes with a tissue that Fliss handed her from the box.

“You ready to talk?”

Mary nodded, and then she stood up and walked over to Fliss who made room for her to clamber up onto her lap. It was a bit awkward but after a little shifting around they found a way she could sit unobstructed by Boston Bean and Mary lay her head against Fliss’ shoulder.

“It was about the gala.” she sniffed “One of them asked me if my mom was coming and…”

“Oh sweetie.” Fliss sighed, rubbing her back. “I get that must have been hard.”

Mary shrugged “I told them she was dead.” she said matter of factly “I get that and I never knew my mom so I don’t miss her as a person…but then I started to think about why she died and I don’t understand.” “Understand what?”

“Why?” Mary looked at her. “Why would she do what she did when she had me? Why did she want to leave me behind?”

Fliss took a deep breath and cradled the girl as best she could, trying to think of a way to explain to which Mary could relate, and then it came to her, she could use her own experience here. There was no getting around the fact this was going to be a heave conversation, but Mary was a smart kid and deserved to be treated as such.

With another deep inhale, Fliss looked down at her, kissing her head before she opened rather bluntly "You know I tried to kill myself."

"You did?" Mary pulled back to look up at her "Why?"

"Because I saw it as my only way out." Fliss gently smoothing Mary’s hair back. "I was stuck in an awful situation. My ex-husband hurt me physically and mentally and I gave up. I wanted out."

Mary remained silent and looked at her.

"For someone to get to that point...they have to have hit rock bottom. Like there is nowhere to go. It's not their fault. And it doesn't mean they don't love the people they leave behind just that they're desperate to escape whatever pain they feel, be it in their head or their body or both."

"But I still don't understand." Mary shook her head.

"And you may never, not fully." Fliss sighed gently "And as horrible as it is that's something you are gonna have to live with but you have to remember that your mom was sick. And for whatever reason she saw this as her only escape. It wasn't Evelyn's fault, it wasn't Frank's fault and it certainly wasn't yours."

"But if she loved me like Frank says she did..."

"You think I don't love my mum and dad? Or Steve? Charlie, Joel?"

Mary blinked before she lay her head back against Fliss' shoulder. "Of course you do.”

"But I was still gonna leave them behind. I was desperate. And you wanna know the real stupid thing?"

"What?"

"When I got better I still went back to John. I went back to a real toxic environment and a man that abused me. Because I felt like it was what I deserved. And even though I left him way before I met you and Frank, it wasn't until me and Frank started dating that I really understood I wasn't to blame. I always thought I did something to make him hurt me but I didn't. Being with Frank, the way he treats me and loves me made me see that it was him with the problem, not me.”

"But that's different" Mary glanced up

"The trigger was, yes." Fliss nodded "But your mom, like me, was in a position so helpless, so unbelievably sad that she thought she was to blame and that the world, including you, would be better off without her even though she was so wrong."

**** Once showered and dried, Frank dressed in a pair of shorts and clean T-shirt before he headed back downstairs. There was no sign of Fliss or Mary but as he strode out into the garden he heard a car heading down the drive by the side of the house from the yard and correctly assumed it was Joanne leaving for the day. He opened the gate and just saw the tail of her car turn onto the main road as he headed into the garage for the charcoal to light the BBQ.

Once that was done, leaving the flames to die down he headed out across the lawn, vaulting over the small fence onto the yard. He headed round the barn and frowned as he couldn't see anyone. After a quick look round he spotted the door to Fliss' office was closed. He went to open it but stopped as he could hear the sound of voices. It was Mary and Fliss but he could tell from the pitch and stutters in Mary's that she was upset. He paused, hand hovering over the handle as he heard Fliss speaking to her softly. "Stack, you are so loved. Frank loves you, I love you, Nanny V, Poppa Bill, Uncle Steeby, Roberta, Evelyn...Thor, Fred and Monty..." she paused "You're such a special little girl and I know I'm not your mom but, well, I feel like I am."

"You do?"

"I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy. And so would Frank"

They both fell silent and Frank swallowed, the lump in his throat almost choking him.

"Don't ever feel like we don't" Fliss continued "and if I have to bake 200 fucking cookies for your Gala next week to prove it then I will."

Mary giggles "You know Bean can hear you swearing."

"Well I won't tell Frank if you don't"

"Do you think Frank feels like my dad?" Mary asked a moment later and at that point Frank really wanted to walk away. He couldn't listen to this, he didn't want to listen to this...but something kept him rooted to the spot.

"I know he does." Fliss replied.

"But he doesn't like it when people say it. I know that, I heard him talking to you. Bill’s not your real dad but you still say he is…."

“That’s slightly different sweetheart.” Fliss sighed "My real dad left my mom before I was born, so when he died. I didn’t even know him and I don’t care that I didn’t either. But your mom was Frank's sister. He wants to make sure you remember her, understand who she was. He could have easily just pretended to be your dad all this time, you would never have known any different but he didn't. Because he loves you and your mom too much. He's too honest and it’s important to him that you understand. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you like he is your dad, or that you can't love him like he is."

Frank turned away from the door, looking up at the sky and taking a deep shuddering breath. Fuck, this was hard to hear. He knew Mary had been upset before but the thought that it ran this deep was killing me. Wiping at his face, his hands then dropped to his hips and he looked down at his sneakers before he turned to the door, reaching for the handle but once more pausing as he couldn’t face interrupting them, not whilst they were in the middle of a moment.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Mary continued  “And I do love him like he is. And I love you like you’re my mom too.”

“Well that’s all that matters.” Fliss replied “It may be unconventional but we’re a family, and that’s the main thing huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Lissy.” Mary spoke.

“You’re welcome Stack” Fliss’s voice was soft and there was a pause as Frank could picture the pair of them hugging.

“Hey, did you now I’m going to be doing all the money stuff for the bake stall?” Mary’s voice was suddenly up beat as she switched topic “Because I’m good at maths they said I could be in charge of payments and handing people their change and stuff.”

“Nice work kiddo.” Fliss smiled, “Tell you what, we’ll put Nanny V on the case, her baking is way better than mine. We can get her over one night next week whilst Pops is helping Frank with the plastering in the nursery.”

Ok, that was it, safe to enter without interrupting anything. Frank gave a little knock and then opened the door, fixing a smile on his face.

“Hope I haven’t interrupted any girl talk” he smiled and Mary jumped up and ran to him, giving him a hug. He looked at Fliss who wiped her eyes.

“Ok?” he mouthed at her and she nodded back, her lips moving silently as she replied.

“Tell you later.”

“BBQ is lit.” Frank said, looking down at Mary “You still wanna play in the pool?”

She nodded and grinned. “Yeah.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Fliss grinned “Let’s lock up and head home…oh wait, we don’t need to head home because…” “We’re already there!” Mary grinned, and then she spun round to see Fred peering round the door. “Hey, look who came to visit!” “Bout time he earned his keep.” Frank grumbled “Go catch some mice.”

Fred stalked past him into the office, looked around, before he sauntered back out, clearly not interested.

“He’s a lover not a killer Frank.” Mary grinned, as Frank watched the cat walk off into the evening sun.

The three of them locked up before they headed back to the house and Mary shot upstairs to get changed.

“So, how much did you hear?” Fliss turned to Frank as he pulled a beer from the fridge along with a bottle of water, sliding it over to her.

“Enough.” he sighed “Her teacher collared me before. Said that one of the kids had asked about her mom in class and she’d gotten upset.”

“She asked me why Diane did what she did.” Fliss sighed, “Why she left her behind if she loved her so much.”

Frank swallowed. “What did you say?”

“I explained about why I tried to kill myself.” Fliss shrugged “Told her about the desperation I felt…but that didn’t mean that I didn’t love my family just that I saw it as my only way out. I know it was heavy and maybe not really the right thing to do but...”

She was cut off as Frank stepped forward, taking her face in his hands as he kissed her, hard. It took her a moment to catch up but once she did she melted into him, her mouth opening to grant him access as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip.

“Thank you.” He said gently as he pulled away, his hands still cupping her face.

“What for?” Fliss asked, reaching up to gently wrap her fingers around his wrists.

“For loving her as much as you do.” he shrugged. “For loving us both as much as you do.”

“Oh, Sailor.” Fliss’ eyes brimmed with tears “How could I not?”

***** Frank didn’t sleep particularly well that night. Mary’s conversation with Fliss was running through his brain and every time he drifted off he would wake about an hour or so later, fresh worries and concerns running through his mind. In the end, at just before 5 am he gave up and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of sweats and putting them on he headed downstairs. He flipped on the TV in the hope the early morning new would distract him, but it didn’t.

It was clear to him that Mary was struggling with where she was going to fit in the family dynamic. He hadn’t really worried much up to that point, being convinced by Fliss that if they kept her involved with stuff to do with Bean she would be ok but this went much deeper than the fact they were expecting a baby.

He’d be lying if he said the thought of him claiming to be Mary’s Father had never entered his mind. It would have been a lot easier but out of loyalty and love to Diane he had wanted to make sure she knew about her mother, and understood the truth because in the end, a lie would always come round to bite you on the ass. It wasn’t that he had a problem with people assuming he was Mary’s father but…

God what a fucking mess.

“Hey…” a soft voice drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Fliss stood in the doorway, his T-shirt she was wearing now hardly covered the top of her thighs thanks to her Bean bump.

“Sorry beautiful, did I wake you?” he asked.

“No.” she shook her head, dropping down next to him. “I got up to pee and you were gone.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” he shrugged.

“What’s wrong handsome?”  she lay her head on his shoulder and he took a deep breath.

“Just thinking about Mary that’s all.” he shrugged. “She’s always asked questions about Diane but not like that.”

“She’s getting older Frank.” Fliss said, her hand reaching out for his as she began to play with his fingers “She’s bound to start thinking about things differently. She was ok last night after she talked to me, and then later you when you tucked her in. She doesn’t keep her feelings bottled up, and that’s good. It’s a testament to you that she feels like she can talk to us about things.”

“I know.” Frank looked down at her, kissing her head “I guess I just worry Lissy, worry about how she’s gonna feel when Bean is here and he’s calling us mom and dad and she doesn’t.”

“Frank.” Fliss sighed as she sat up straight. “Mary knows we love her. And what she calls us doesn’t change a damned thing. You’re worrying unduly now. We can’t do anything about that other than-“

“Yes, yes we could.” Frank looked at her. Fliss took a deep breath as his eyes locked onto hers, instantly understanding.

“I thought you said you’d never even consider adopting her?”

“I never thought I would.” he shrugged. “But it’s been playing on my mind after what mother said and then after last night…” “Why? What did Evelyn say?” Fliss asked.

“When she was here last, she told me that Diane’s memory wouldn’t suddenly fade if Mary called me dad…” he licked his lips “It was almost like she was giving me permission to do it…you know? Not that I need it or really give a shit what she thinks.” he paused, taking a deep breath “If I’m totally honest Diane isn’t the only reason I said I didn’t want to. I just never thought of myself as being dad material. I was such a screw up until I met you and I thought that by staying as her Uncle, it would give her that distance, you know?”

“Not dad material?” Fliss looked at him, shaking her head “Oh Frank, you idiot. You’ve done an amazing job with her…and you will do with Bean too.”

He smiled at her, sniffing slightly as she continued.

“But there is one person who’s opinion counts most here.” Fliss said gently “And that’s Mary. If you’re serious then you should ask her if it’s what she wants. Because after 9 years of calling you Frank…”

“I know.” Frank agreed, “And I agree, completely. It would have to be her decision. But at least if I ask her if she would like us to then-“

“Us?” Fliss looked at him, blinking. “You mean you want me to?”

“Of course I do.” Frank nodded, before he frowned slightly “But if that isn’t what you want, I understand. It’s a big-“ Fliss cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips “Of course I do Frank. I love Mary like she is my own anyway so…” Frank beamed at her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head. “So, we’re agreed. We ask her?”

Fliss nodded and pulled back, her hand resting on his cheek. “We ask her.”

Chapter 8

[tessiete]

"I wish you would write a —" continuation or AU of that scene from away the vapour flew (because I've seen you mention that even your AU's have AU's lol and I'm selfishly hoping you'd consider revisiting that fic and coz I can't let this opportunity pass when this fic literally lives in my mind rent free lol)

Alright! At long last I have figured out what happens next. This is for you, dear thing ❤️❤️❤️ ( @lightasthesun on - or very near thereabouts - your birthday)

LED BY THE WANDERING LIGHT

It starts with a very little thing: a seed.

 It is slipped from the glove of a Republic aid trooper who smiles as he passes it over.

 “From the General of the 212th,” he says. “Don’t know what it is, but I damn near lost the thing on the way over.” 

 “For me?” he asks, and the man nods, his grin growing wider.

 Then he leans in as though commiserating with a friend. “Jetiise sha’bise, lek?”

 “Elek,” agrees Korkie, dubiously, turning the little living pebble between his fingers.

 The trooper grins, and gives him a friendly shove before trotting off back to his ship. Korkie has come down on his aunt’s behalf to oversee the relief efforts, but he is distracted by the seed in his hand. It is flat, and furry, and pleasingly plump. If he squeezes it, he can feel the skin relent and rebound, and if he digs in his nail ever so gently, he can feel the taste of water upon his thumb, and see the pale blush of springtime in the depths of the cut. It is a seed of something, he knows, but of what?

 He places it in the breast pocket of his Academy jacket, and turns his attention back to the work. It is an impressive, and important sight, but his thoughts linger on the seed, and he feels it sit bright and eager against his heart.

 Later, when the supplies have been unloaded, and the aid troopers seen off, when the ceremony of thanks and assurances of neutrality have all been displayed, when he is back in his room at Sundari only hours away from the magtrain ride back to school, he plants the seed in a little pot of black earth, and dampens the soil. It will not grow tonight, but he cannot help but stare at it anyway, waiting in the dark, beneath the stars, so patient.

A week passes, and he is back at the Academy when the mail officer - an upperclassman he’s never met - stops at his place during first meal.

 “Su-su, Kryze!” he calls. “A package for you from the Core.”

 A small bundle wrapped in layer upon layer of bonding tape, and stamped with the ink of a hundred spaceports too numerous and cramped to decipher lands upon his lap. He uses the thin knife from his plate to slice through the plastifibe envelope. 

 When his fingers graze the object within he gasps, and pulls back the wrap to reveal a real, proper book. It’s not even printed on flimsi, he notes, cracking the aged spine and letting the pages fall open, but on actual paper. They don’t make these in the Core, and hardly ever in the Mid Rim, it’s just not economical, and most planets don’t have the resources to spare. But this one is old, it’s pages creased, and worn smooth at the corners with the turning of many fingers. It is about horticulture, though the illustrations of green and growing things have faded to browns and burnished golds. It is beautiful. 

 A piece of dried grass has been tucked between two pages, and when Korkie folds them back to look he sees an image of the seed he’d sown in the pot by his bed. Beside it, a riotous bouquet of blossoms burst in an array of different colours. It is a daesyn flower.

He tucks the book in his kebisebag, and carries it around for the rest of the day. At nightfall, he takes it out with careful reverence, turning the pages back to the daesyn slowly lest they tear or turn to dust. Then, by the light of a little glowrod, he props the book against his window and reads along as he tends to the small green sprout only just peeking through the soil.

 He buys a sun lamp, and a watermeter, and adjusts the temperature of his quarters much to Amis’ chagrin, determined to provide the most optimal growing conditions he can for the little plant.

  After a month, the seedling has become a sturdy sprout, with prickly leaves of a green so deep it might be blue. He is attempting to commit those variegated lines to flimsi when Amis returns to their quarters, a small pouch swinging from his hand.

 “I’m supposed to give this to you,” he says, tossing the pouch. Korkie reacts without thinking, snatching the bag out of the air before it can hit the ground.

 “Who’s it from?”

 “Front desk. Said some high up Republic alor sent it.”

 “Which one?”

 “Don’t know. Didn’t ask, did I? Too busy polishing the silver.”

 Korkie grimaces in sympathy, having spent many an afternoon of his first year cleaning the trophy case in the main hall. He thinks that Amis’ plight could be easily avoided if only he behaved himself, but refrains from saying so to his friend.

 Instead, he pulls the drawstring at the top of the purse, and turns it over his hand. A dozen discs of coloured glass tumble into his palm. They are thick, and smooth, though not polished by anything but time. Each is a different colour, though some are struck through with shimmers of gold and silver. 

 “What’s that?” asks Amis over his shoulder.

 “Don’t know,” he echoes. The glass feels comfortable in his grip. Made to be held, and carried, and passed from hand to hand.

 “Should ask Lagos,” says Amis. “That seems like her kind of thing.”

 He makes no reply to Amis, but of course, he does as he suggests. Lagos is, after all, a walking encyclopaedia, and of all their friends the most likely to at least have an idea of where to start looking.

 The excitement on her face when Korkie shows her his hoard tells him she has more than an idea - she knows.

 “Oh, oh, oh!” she gasps. “Where’d you find Abafar trading beads?��

 “They were a gift,” he replies. “What are they for?”

 She picks them up one at a time and holds them to the light. By some trick of their design, they cast no shadow, but seem to capture the rays inside like banked embers, or twisting prisms. The ones marked with ribbons of ore grow warm in her hand, and she presses them to his cheek so he can feel their heat.

 “They’re the traditional currency of Abafar,” she explains. “It’s a desert planet in the Outer Rim, and craftsmen in the Void used to make these beads as a means of facilitating trade over great distances. Metal was scarce, and the beads could also be used to retain heat for longer - that one in your hand could keep the warmth of the sun all night, if you wanted it to.”

 He considers the disc of deep indigo, and holds it up to the sun until it turns red. The glass seems to have become molten, but its warmth is not painful in the hand. He leaves the bead out for the rest of the afternoon to test Lagos’ theory, and brings it into bed with him at night. Tucked beneath his pillow, it radiates a soothing heat, and he feels his muscles relax and his worries melt as he drifts away into an easy slumber.

   The next gift he receives is shattered into bits.

 “Sorry, kid,” says the attendant at the delivery depot when he arrives to claim his parcel. “Happens sometimes with these packages from the front. The war is not a safe place for fragile things. Bic cuyir meg bic cuyir.”

 He takes the present anyway, carrying it delicately back to the Academy, fearful of breaking it further. When he finally tears through the tape and plastifibe, clay and ceramplast pieces give up any pretense at form and clatter over the surface of his desk.

 It was beautiful once, he can tell. Perhaps a bowl or a cup turned by hand - he can see the telltale print of a foreign finger pressed into a section of naked clay - but now it is only fragments and dust.

 Still, he hovers over the pile, turning the pieces this way and that, trying to see how they fit together. He doesn’t notice when sixth bell rings, or when Soniee pings his comm, or when Amis sneaks in past curfew and turns out his light. He stays up late into the night, until the form takes shape, and through the cracks and crevasses of painted clay dawn creeps in.

 It is an amphoriskos. A small vessel for storing precious oils, like the kind used in the rituals of so many traditional peoples. There is none in it now, and Korkie retrieves the sachet to see if perhaps it was spilled into the weave of the plastifibe wrap. But it is dry. And the clay, when he looks at it more closely, is dry and unstained by use. The gift was always empty.

 The shards sit upon his desk in their loose arrangement until, one afternoon, Amis moves to sweep them off into the dustbin.

 “No, no!” protests Korkie, before Amis can complete the task. “I want to keep it.”

 “What for?” his friend asks. “It’s broken.”

 “I don’t know yet.”

 He collects the bits of amphoriskos into his hands, and arranges them about the base of his daesyn pot. The paint glints in the light, and so too do the Abafar beads nestled amidst the debris. The plant grows green and bushy, its leaves reaching out to skim the rim of its bed as though a swimmer poised on the edge of emersion.

He receives Theelin singing strings wound tight around a holodrive meant for the Duchess, paired basalt spindles from Hapes, seashells from the deep oceans of Mon Cala, and a set of Lateron hoops carried on the wrist of the visiting senator from Naboo.

 “From Master Kenobi,” she says, and she smiles at him with a warmth that feels like family. He wonders if they’ve met before, if he should know her, but she moves along with the entourage of press and government officials before he can ask.

 He is home for Holyrod month, and has brought his prizes with him carried along specially in his kebisebag, his daesyn in his hands. He sets them out along the windowsill in his rooms at Sundari. The watchet blues and greens of crystalline filtered light play over his collection, illuminating one after the other in joyous turn. He does not know what they mean, or why his father has sent these particular things to him, but they are all precious, and he longs for a way to display his gratitude for the thought he has been spared.

 The daesyn itself revels in its new surroundings, and leans close to the glass to get as close a view of the sun as it can, budding with imminent delight.

The Senator from Naboo is called Padme, he discovers when he is introduced to her again at mealtime. And she has not come alone. She is part of a delegation of foreign ambassadors, all from the Republic, but not all, Korkie suspects, as enthusiastic about the Chancellor as they had once been. There are murmurings and whispers amongst them, hurried out between thin lips and caught only in the corner of his eye, or the turn of his head, but whether satisfied or not, they are accompanied by the ceremonial force of the Senate, and the might of Palpatine himself - Two Jedi travel with them.

 Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 He sees him through the crush of bodies, and later down the line at suppertime. In the midst of deep blues, and mauves, and furs, and silks, his earthen tunics stand out, but he is always distant, always just out of reach. All he needs is a moment, he thinks, to make sure he’s seen, so he can acknowledge his father - even in the polite, and suitably respectful language of perfect strangers if he must, but it never comes. 

The plates are cleared, the halls are emptied, and Korkie finds himself bidding his aunt (she is always his aunt here) goodnight, and wandering back to his rooms alone.

 It is dark when he arrives, though by the window the Abafar beads glow like the distant lights of the city. He slips off his stiff shoes, and his raiments of clan, but is interrupted by a knock at the door. He waits, uncertain, until the knock comes again.

 Perhaps his mother come to assure herself of his health and presence, as she has done so often in the past, but he opens the door to find Obi-Wan Kenobi waiting, with his hand out. In the euphoric rush of astonishment, he hastens to place his own hand upon his father’s as is customary on Stewjon, though he holds fast in a manner peculiar between children and their parents.

 “Master Kenobi,” he stammers. “I did not expect you. I thought you’d left. Forgive me.”

 “There is nothing to forgive,” Obi-Wan replies. “I’d rather hoped to catch you alone, but I’m afraid our schedule was somewhat packed.”

“Of course.”

He is staring, he knows it, but he can’t seem to think of anything else to say, caught up in looking at his father and searching for all the commonalities between them. Does he tilt his head like that? Does he stroke his chin? Does he frown and smile by equal measure?

But the weight of his scrutiny is too much to bear, and Obi-Wan cracks.

“I thought to ask: did you get my gifts?”

“Yes,” says Korkie. “Thank you. They were very thoughtful.”

“Ah...And did you - did you like them?”

At this, Korkie cannot help but smile, and he shakes his father’s hand, tugging him forward with zeal.

“Yes, of course,” he says. “Would you like to see?”

If he is confused by his son’s desire to reintroduce him to items he has already laboured over and seen, then he does not show it. Nor does he resist when the hand in his pulls him further into the room, and doesn’t let go even as a curtain is flung open, and a light flicked on low.

He is pulled over to the broad casements and left to bask in starlight as Korkie steps aside to reveal a colorful mobile hanging from the frame of his window.

“The amphoriskos broke,” he explains, and sees a shadow flicker in his father's eyes. “No, no,” he insists. “It wasn’t your fault. It just happened. But I couldn’t bear to throw it away. It was so beautiful.”

He gestures at a silver thread from which hang a variety of irregularly shaped clay shards. The shiny amber and black paint catches the light thrown by the glowing Abafar beads strung further up, and on another and another thread. When he blows on them the threads hum, and sway together, the seashells and pottery and glass clattering together like wind chimes.

“The singing strings,” notes Obi-Wan, and Korkie grins.

“And the Lateron hoops,” he says, pointing to the frame from which the strings are suspended. “And the spindles, for balance. It’s meant to hang with my window open, like it is at school. And then, at night, when the dreamwinds come, the whole thing sings, and shines, and glows like the stars.”

“It’s beautiful,” says Obi-Wan with awe. He reaches out with one hesitant finger, the beads flickering beneath his touch, and the strings murmuring the low notes of an opening phrase.

“You gave it to me,” says Korkie with a shrug, and Obi-Wan turns his awe upon his boy.

“No,” he says. “I gave you fragments, but you have made them into art. You gave them meaning. You gave them a soul.”

Korkie shifts on his feet, fretting at the cuff of his sleeve, and diving in.

“Would it be okay, do you think -” he starts, then stops. Then he starts again. “Do you think it’d be alright if I wrote you? Every once in a while.”

“Wrote me?”

“Or com’d,” he says, quickly. “Only I know you’re busy, and I can’t expect to lay claim to any of your time, not really, but I -”

“Com me,” says Obi-Wan. “Write me. Send me anything you like, but only say you will and I will have all the time for you I can spare.”

“I promise that I only want a very little.”

“If it’s mine to give it’s yours to have, Kiorkicek,” his father swears. His grip upon his hand is firm, willing him to believe him, and Korkie nods his head because he does.

They stand there, hand in hand, reading themselves in each other, and learning the other in turn, and in the glow of the stars, and the city, and the Abafar beads, the daesyn flower bursts from its roots into a riot of colour and life.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On Ch7: Home, Sweet Home!

Summary: Frank and Fliss find their perfect family home, but there’s something bothering Mary.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Discussions about suicide. A little bit of angst.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is a bit of an emotionally charged filler chapter…and we move time on a little through to June in the middle. And photos of the Adler house are included so you can visualise what I used for inspiration! Chapter Song: Kill For A Dream by Beady Eye

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

You’re giving it another try, staring at the deep blue sky, and you say to the driver just drive, coz you never felt so alive.

April 2019

“Hey honey, you ok?” Frank juggled his phone, pinning it between his ear and his shoulder as he leaned over his computer in the office, scanning the database on the screen for a filter part they needed to order.

“No, I mean yes! I’ve just heard some awesome news!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, so you remember the guy that bought the house that backs onto the yard when Old Man River died…” “That wasn’t his name.” Frank chuckled “It was Mr Morris.”

“He called himself River, it was funny and suited him. Anyway, that’s not the point. You know the guy who bought it…guess what I found out before?”

Frank stopped what he was doing and straightened up. He didn’t like that dick, one bit. When Mr Morris had died at the start of the year, Fliss had been quite upset about the news as the old man had been very friendly to her, often popping in for a cup of tea a few afternoons a week for some company. Mr Morris’ son had sold the house without them even knowing it had gone on the market, which was a shame as it would have been perfect for them given the location. The guy who had bought it, Frank didn’t even know his name, nor did he care because he was a douchebag and a pervert to boot. The way he looked at Fliss made Frank want to punch his face in.

“What’s Douchey Mc Douchebag done now?”

“You’re so childish.” she scoffed “Anyway, I was only commenting to Joanne last night that we haven’t seen him for like a month and she went home and mentioned it to her dad who works with some other guy in the property development business and the long and short of it is he’s gone bankrupt Frank!”

Frank laughed loudly “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, babe!”

“I know right!” Fliss voice was gathering pace and pitch, the way it always did when she was excited. “So literally about half hour after she’s told me this, someone turns up and there’s a For Sale sign outside, the house is on the market!”

Ok now he was interested. Frank could picture the look of excitement on her face as she spoke to him and he felt the smile cross his face “No shit?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you the website to look at the photos but…oh God, it would be perfect! Some of it is really nice, some of it needs decorating but…” “Ok, well, why don’t you call the realtor? Arrange a viewing” he said “Hopefully you won’t puke halfway round this one.” “Ok, first off that wasn’t my fault. Bean objected to the smell. Who the fuck cooks eggs the day they know they have someone coming to view their house?” her indignant tone made Frank chuckle “And second off…”she paused “I already did. He said he can meet us at half 12.”

“Half 12? As in lunch time? Today?” Frank frowned.

“I know I just really don’t want to miss out on this one Frank, and you said you were gonna come up here for lunch and-”

“Ok, ok.” Frank sighed “I’ll shuffle some stuff around, work a little later tonight and take an extra half hour.”

“I love you.” she replied and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Good job I love you too.” he said back gruffly “Because you’re a pain in my ass.”

He bid her goodbye and just as he was looking at the rota to make sure there were enough staff in to cope if he took a longer lunch, his phone beeped. He clicked through to the link Fliss had sent him and had a scan through the photos. To be fair the house didn’t look in too bad condition. It was deceptive from the outside, looked like a small farmhouse but they knew thanks to the extension Douchebag had put on the back it now formed an L shape and from the look of it, was pretty spacious. The kitchen was new, the main bathroom was new so the big work looked like it had been mostly done. The décor in some of the rooms was really old fashioned, especially the hallway you and the front reception room, but that was all cosmetic. What really grabbed him was the price. It was up for just over 320 thousand, which was a fucking steal considering the size, location, the garden and the garge/outhouse it came with.

“You ok Frank?”

He looked up and smiled as Alan, his boss walked in to the office. “Yeah, sorry, Fliss has found a house and managed to book a viewing for lunch time. Fucking 7th one in 2 weeks.”

Alan snorted “Keeping you on your toes I see?”

“Well I gotta say, this one’s looking pretty good. It’s the house that backs onto our Yard out in Pinellas Park.” Frank explained “It was sold not even 6 months ago to a developer and he’s apparently gone bankrupt so put it back on the market.”

“Huh.” Alan smiled “Sounds like it was meant to be. Take it you’re going then?”

“Yeah, Charlie and Gary are in all afternoon. I thought I could take an extra half hour, work it back tonight or…” “Frank, when was the last time you actually took a full hour for your lunch and didn’t cut it short by 10 or 15?” Alan looked at him.

Frank hesitated “Yeah, but that’s-”

“No buts.” Alan shook his head. “Do what you gotta do.”

“Thanks Alan.” Frank smiled, “I appreciate it.”

Alan waved away his gratitude before he dropped into the chair on the opposite side of Frank’s small desk and gestured for Frank to sit down.

“I wanted to talk to you in person.” Alan said, “Before the news gets out. I’m looking at retiring Frank, fully this time.”

“That’s good news, for you I mean.” Frank smiled, taking his seat. “You must be happy?”

“Kinda bitter sweet.” he shrugged “But I hit 70 this year and bout time I let it all go. Bill’s already chomping at the bit to book damned fishing trips so...it’ll be nice to step back. But I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

“My son, James is going to be taking over, that won’t come as any surprise to you as you’ve seen him knocking around a bit and he likes you.”

“Good to know I’m not going to be out on my ass.” Frank smiled, breathing out a little.

“No, not a chance. I wouldn’t allow it.” Alan said “I’ll still be the owner, just stepping back from major decision making and day to day running. Anyway, the point is Frank, James needs a deputy. He is young and a little inexperienced. I’ve seen how quickly over the last year you’ve picked up rotas, staffing issues, dealt with the stock takes, haggled with the supply chain…I wondered if you’d consider it.”

Frank blinked “You wanna make me deputy manager?”

“In a word, yes. And I know you got your hands full at the moment and they’ll be even more full when that boy of yours arrives but the changes won’t come into effect until the end of the year so we got plenty of time to work out the details.”

“Wow, I err…” Frank shook his head “I don’t know what to say.” “I don’t need an answer now.” Alan said, “Take some time to consider it. Talk it over with Fliss.”

“I will, I’ll give it some thought.” “Ok, well, that’s all I dropped in for.” Alan said, standing up, groaning a little “Did you just hear my damned knees click?”

Frank laughed and shook his head “No, but to be honest mine click too so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Getting old sucks.” Alan said, shaking his head “I tell ya, the minute I can’t enjoy the simple things in life, put a bullet in my head.”

Frank snorted as Alan shot him a wink and left him to his thoughts.

******* Frank glanced down at the wooden boards beneath his feet in the entrance hall. They were solid old wood, oak he thought, and with a clean and polish would look stunning. He looked up and saw Fliss talking animatedly to the realtor, a young man called David as he nodded and gestured to his left. Fliss opened the door and looked at Frank who followed her into the first reception room. It smelt musty, and there was an old sofa and threadbare carpet in the room but it was light and had a nice, airey feeling to it thanks to the large windows at the front of the house.

“New carpet and a bit of paint…” Frank mused nodding, “Be good as new.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes shining a she looked around and nodded at the fire place “Really, in Florida?”

“It gets cold, as you know.” he teased “Besides, we just fill it with some of your million candles or whatever…”

She nudged him and they turned around, David watching them.

“So, you’re obviously in the older part of the house that hasn’t really been touched apart from upstairs.” he explained, “But if you follow me I’ll show you the extension which is all new and, well, to be honest, I think it’s stunning.”

The three of them moved back into the hall and through a door at the end which led into a huge open plan kitchen and living area. The kitchen was gorgeous. Sleek white units, modern appliances, marble tops, a huge breakfast bar. Douchebag had clearly spent a fortune doing this up. The floor was a light grey and white laminate which David pointed out was heavy wearing.  To the left of the kitchen area was a huge space where Frank could clearly picture their sofas and TV, and then just off that was a door which led into another smaller reception room, freshly painted and carpeted.  He was just pondering how they could turn that into a play room when Fliss gave a gasp and nudged Frank pointing to the large bay window at the back which had been converted into a seating nook of sorts. They made their way over and saw that the view extended right over their garden highlighting a small pool area which was surrounded by a low set of railings with a gate that were all painted a glossy black. The pool itself was sparklingly clean and clearly brand new.

“Oh wow… “ Fliss mumbled, looking at the sand stone tiles that surrounded the area and the rest of the garden.

“Yeah the rear garden loops in an L round the house” David said. “There’s a larger fence around this area to keep it private and separate from the land at the front that runs flush to the yard area.”

Frank’s hands dropping to her hips as he nodded to the right “Could extend that little patio area for a table and chairs, maybe build a brick BBQ. Couple of sun-loungers for that bit at the back of the pool.”

She nodded eagerly before they headed back into the hallway they’d entered into where the realtor showed them the little room that was to the right as you came in the door which held a number of shelves and coat hooks and a toilet and sink basin. They then headed up stairs to find 4 bedrooms. The master extended down the entire side of the house overlooking the main yard area of Sandybrook. It needed some work, the plaster and paint was peeling away in some areas, but Frank wasn’t worried at that. It was an easy job. What he was pleased to see was that the rest of it was in good condition. There was a brand new en-suite attached to it, housing a toilet, a huge shower and his and hers sinks. The room also had built in wardrobes and huge ceiling to floor bi-folding doors which opened up onto a small balcony. Douchebag had clearly been focussing on the big jobs first before he got into the cosmetics, which Frank had to give him credit for.

The main bathroom was in between the wall of their en-suite and the next bedroom, both situated at the back of the house over the extension and overlooking the fields belonging to the yard. The plaster was fresh in that bedroom but hadn’t been painted, again, not an issue, because Frank knew a certain little miss would be no doubt picking a colour as soon a she spotted this room.

“Bet Mary chooses this one.” Frank said, voicing his thoughts and Fliss nodded, smiling

“I would if the Master didn’t have that en-suite.” she grinned “Look at that view!”

“Yeah, who’d have thought you could work from home in the equestrian business” he chuckled as they then headed to the next bedroom on the opposite side of the landing. This was also rather large, but like the main part of the master bedroom, was clearly one of the original two bedrooms the house had and it needed some updating.

The 4th bedroom was a smaller one up a narrow set of stairs hidden by door in the hallway. It opened up into an attic room which tucked into the roof of the house.

The realtor then led them back down and the out to the outbuildings. There was a huge garage with a half- finished apartment of sorts above it that had been used as storage but could be easily a guest suite if they so wanted,  and then the thing Frank had really loved was the workshop off the side of the garage, accessed by a small door. It was musty and full of crap but was somewhere for him to store all his tools and work on any side projects he decided to pick up.

All in all Frank was finding it pretty damned hard to pick faults in the place.

As they headed back to the main house and Frank asked David politely to give them a moment to look around alone and he nodded eagerly before Frank and Fliss headed back into the house.

“I’m getting good vibes Sailor.” Fliss said as she turned round, looking at the kitchen, once more heading over to the bay window seat, “really good vibes.” she spun back to him and he smiled at the look on her face. “I mean, ok, a few rooms need decorating and there’s some finishing off bits to do all over but it’s nothing that dad can’t help with and I’m sure-“

At that she stopped dead, and gave a little gasp as her hand flew to her bump.

“You ok?” Frank stepped forward.

“Yeah he’s…” she swallowed “Bean’s kicking, Frankie! Quick!”

He reached out with his hand and she took it, pressing it to the side of her bump. After a second or two he felt something wriggle a little under his palm and he looked at Fliss, his face cracking into an open mouthed smile as he felt his son move for the first time.

“Lissy…” he swallowed his eyes misting over. “That’s…oh my God!”

“You should feel it from my POV!” Fliss smiled her own eyes glassy too.

Frank didn’t want to take his hand away. Instead, he kept moving his palm, tracking their baby’s movements when eventually they stopped.

“I think that means BB likes the house.” Fliss looked at him.

Frank scoffed, shaking his head. “BB’s Momma likes the house.”

“Doesn’t his Daddy?” she asked, her hands sliding round his neck.

“Yeah, his Daddy does.” he replied honestly in a low voice as he looked around the large room. “In fact, I like it a lot.”

“You think Mary will?”

“Are you kidding?” Frank snorted “Soon as she sees that view and that pool, she’ll be packing to move in straight away.”

“Suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Fliss smiled.

So they did. They brought Mary back the next day after school. She had squealed at the window seat, yelled about the pool and as she had shot upstairs and headed into the bedroom Frank had predicted she would like, given a jump for joy as she realised from the upstairs she had a view over the tall picket fencing that shielded the private area of the garden.

“I can see Monty!” she gleefully pointed out before turning to Frank and looking at him then to Fliss, her hands on her hips “If you don’t buy this house you’re a pair of dumbasses.”

The same sentiment was echoed by Bill when he turned up fifteen minutes or so later and walked around with Frank whilst Fliss and Mary headed to feed the horses. He did exactly the same thing he had done when they had looked at the apartment, pointed out what they needed to do, how long it should take them to do, rough estimates of cost. Plus, he also reminded Frank they were in a great position. They could buy the place and then give his months’ notice on the apartment meaning they could stay where they were until it was finished.

So that was it. Decision made. The next morning they went in with a cheeky offer, some twenty thou below the asking price which was rejected instantly. Then they upped their offer by five…then an additional three to total eight, with the fact that they were cash buyers and not in a chain a huge bargaining chip.

It was later that evening, just after they had finished dinner when the realtor called back.

“Evening Mr Adler, ok so…I have spoken to the vendor. He says if you can up your offer by another two thousand then you’ve got a deal.” David spoke. At that, Frank let out a huge grin, as he looked out of the kitchen window at Mary and Fliss who were outside the apartment, both sat on a chair round the table. He and Fliss had both agreed they were prepared to go to the full asking price, in their mind it was worth it, but they were about to seal the deal here for ten thousand less.

“Ok, two thousand more.” Frank said, keeping his voice level “But the property comes off the market as we don’t want anyone else spotting it and offering him more before we exchange contracts.” he repeated word for word what Greg had instructed him to do when he had asked him to handle the conveyancing earlier that morning.

“Ok, so the offer on the table is Three-ten on the proviso he grants exclusivity…” David repeated. “Ok, leave it with me.”

Frank finished loading the dishwasher, and had just grabbed himself a beer when David called back not even five minutes later.

“Congratulations Mr Adler, you have a deal.”

He thanked him, and grinning ear to ear headed outside, jumping down the steps onto the lawn.

“What you looking so pleased about?” Fliss looked up at him suspiciously.

“David called… we’ve settled on three-ten plus exclusivity” he smiled

“What, you mean…” Fliss’ mouth fell open and Frank nodded.

“Yup, subject to contracts, the place is ours!”

Mary gave a loud cheer as Fliss jumped up and leapt at him as he smiled, wrapping her in his arms, swinging her up slightly.

“I can’t believe it…” she whispered. “Our own home!”

“I know” he beamed, setting her down as he gave her a quick peck. “I’ll call Greg in the morning. When I talked to him about it he said that with no loans involved it shouldn’t take too long. We could be looking a having the keys in a month.” His hands dropped to her hips, palms resting either side of where his son was growing “So plenty of time to do his nursery.” Fliss grinned and using the arms that were round his neck pulled his face down to hers and pressed a fierce kiss to his mouth. “God I love you.” she mumbled. “Love you too.” he grinned, kissing her again, ignoring Mary’s fake puking noises in the background.

*******

******

June 2019

“Mr Adler?"

Frank stopped as he had been striding over the yard to collect Mary and turned to see Mrs McCarthy, her teacher walking towards him.

"Hi." He smiled, removing his sunglasses so he could look her in the eyes.

"I'm so sorry to bother you"

"No bother at all." He assured her "is everything OK?"

Mrs McCarthy glanced over to where Mary was stood talking to her friend, Rosie, and turned back to him

"Yes...nothing too drastic but I wanted to make you aware about a little incident in class this afternoon"

Frank looked at her, blinking "incident?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word." The older, blonde woman said "Look, as you know next week it's the end of year Gala, the fundraiser and we invite the parents to join us for activities.”

Frank nodded, wishing the woman would get to the damned point. He was hot, dirty and bothered after an afternoon of helping the team on a particularly awkward repair and wanted nothing more than to stand under a cold shower for an hour and flop down outside with a beer.

"Well, one of the girls asked Mary if she was bringing her mom and if they were making anything for the bake sale and Mary rather bluntly told the girl her mother was dead and then clammed up. She didn't speak a word for the rest of the afternoon."

Frank felt his chest tighten as he looked over at Mary who was now giggling with Rosie and sighed

"She didn't do anything wrong" Mrs McCarthy pressed "I was just a little worried."

"OK...thanks for letting me know, I'll make sure she's ok." Frank assured her.

The woman nodded and headed back across the yard as Frank gave a sharp whistle and slid his aviators back onto his face. Mary looked up and said goodbye to Rosie and came wandering over as Frank waved to Rosie's mom who tossed a hand in greeting in response.

"I'm not Thor" she said, fixing Frank with a stare.

"I know but I couldn't be bothered walking over." He said honestly as they climbed into the truck

"You have a good day?"

"It was OK." She shrugged. Frank eyed her for a second before she pulled the car away from the kerb and set off down the road.

"What's for dinner." Mary asked.

"Steak, baked potatoes and salad." He replies "Fliss' choice."

"Are you grilling?" Mary asked.

"Yup." He nodded

"Cool." Mary nodded "Can I go in the pool before?"

"Got any homework?" Frank countered with another question as he looked at her. Mary shook her head

“End of year next week and Uni didn't give me any summer work."

"Then yeah, of course you can.”

Frank didn't raise the so called incident, deciding to let her chill out a little bit at home first and digest how she felt. After 20 minutes or so of general chat Frank pulled up their driveway and stopped the truck next to Fliss' truck. As they hopped out Mary glanced across the garden over the smaller part of the fence where she could just see Fliss walking across the yard.

"Please can I go see Monty?" She looked at Frank and he nodded.

"I'll watch you." He agreed. With a grin she sprinted over the lawn, climbed over the fence and dropped over onto the other side. Thor gave a bark and Fliss turned round and smiled at her, before she waved at Frank. He waved back before he headed down the side of the house, through the gate in the larger fence before he unlocked the back door and stepped inside the cool air conditioned kitchen, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to the fridge for a beer. Draining half in one he stood, looking around and smiling. They’d finally unpacked the last box yesterday evening and Fliss was still in the process of moving things around their new home, positioning them where she wanted them.

True to Greg’s word, they’d had the keys to the house 4 and a half weeks after making the offer, and 2 weeks post that once the bedrooms and hall had been decorated with a lot of help from Bill, Verity and Roberta (who had been happy for them yet still cried her eyes out when they’d left the park, despite the fact they had assured her they would still come visit and she could also come stay with them too) they’d moved in. The only thing left to do was the reception room (which could wait, it was easy to just shut the door and pretend it didn’t exist) and Bean’s nursery, which he, Fliss and Mary had decided to do together as a project. Mary and Fliss had spent nights pouring over Pinterest for ideas and they’d finally settled on a scheme. Frank had picked up all the plastering supplies and the paint, the furniture was on order and should be arriving at any time that week now he thought about it…so hopefully that weekend they could get cracking. That might cheer Mary up now he thought about it.

Taking his beer with him, he picked up his boots and took them to the cloakroom/bathroom by the stairs. He trudged up the steps, shaking his head at Fred who was led at the top, his paws hanging over the edge of the step as he eyed Frank.

"You're gonna cause a fucking accident." He looked at the ginger cat who merely swished his tail in response. Frank headed into their bedroom, stripping off as he went, walking straight into the en-suite, turning on the shower, setting his beer down on the edge of the sink unit. He stepped in and under the stream of cool water, closing the screen behind him, his mind still on Mary and how he was going to bring up what her teacher has said. With a groan he opened the door, reached out of the cubicle for his beer, took another gulp before he set about washing the grime of the day away.

***** "Have you finished grooming him?" Fliss asked, standing in the doorway to Monty's stable. Mary glanced over from where she had been brushing through his white tail and nodded.

"Wanna take him to the paddock?" Fliss smiled. "Cap and Bronson are waiting for their little pal."

"Sure." Mary shrugged and Fliss frowned a little at her demeanour. She was quiet, which was unlike her when she was round the horses. She was normally full of excitement.

"You OK?" She asked and Mary nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem quiet, that's all."

"No, I'm good." She shrugged, before she tossed her brush into the little grooming box she had, closing the lid and passing it to Fliss. Fliss placed the box into the larger wooden one outside the stable before Mary put Monty's halter on and led him out of his stall. Fliss allowed them to walk ahead, her hand on her bump as she followed them out of the yard and down the little path to the gate that led to the paddocks. They reached the one were Monty was going and undoing the gate, Mary led him in. The white pony stood patiently for her to take his halter off before he stuck his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Fliss smiled as Mary gently stroked his neck and then to her utter horror she saw Mary’s shoulders begin to shake as the girl started to cry.

"Hey, Mary..." she soothed, stepping forward as the small girl turned to her, wrapping her arms around her as best she could, pressing her face into her bump "Oh baby what's wrong?"

Mary didn’t reply, instead she continued to sob and Fliss felt powerless to do anything other than wrap her arms around her, one hand resting on her head, the other between her shoulders.

“Something happened at School…” Mary whispered and Fliss gently tipped her head up to look at her. “Someone said something and…”

“Ok, how about we go back to the office and you can tell me all about it ok?”

Mary nodded, sniffing as her sobs died down. Fliss held out her hand and Mary took it and together they headed back down to the yard. Joanne looked at Mary who was hiccupping slightly with her sobs and frowned but Fliss shook her head.

“Can you feed the top barn for me and then you can go.” she said to Jo who nodded. “I’ll lock up.” “Sure, see you tomorrow. Bye Mary.” she smiled. Mary looked at her and gave a small wave before Fliss led her into the office. She grabbed them both an apple juice from the fridge and then Mary sat on the chair at the end of the desk, wiping her eyes with a tissue that Fliss handed her from the box.

“You ready to talk?”

Mary nodded, and then she stood up and walked over to Fliss who made room for her to clamber up onto her lap. It was a bit awkward but after a little shifting around they found a way she could sit unobstructed by Boston Bean and Mary lay her head against Fliss’ shoulder.

“It was about the gala.” she said gently “One of them asked me if my mom was coming and…”

“Oh sweetie.” Fliss sighed, rubbing her back. “I get that must have been hard.”

Mary shrugged “I told them she was dead.” she said matter of factly “I get that and I never knew my mom so I don’t miss her as a person…but then I started to think about why she died and I don’t understand.” “Understand what?”

“Why?” Mary looked at her. “Why would she do what she did when she had me? Why did she want to leave me behind?”

Fliss took a deep breath and cradled the girl as best she could, trying to think of a way to explain to which Mary could relate, and then it came to her, she could use her own experience here. There was no getting around the fact this was going to be a heave conversation, but Mary was a smart kid and deserved to be treated as such.

With another deep inhale, Fliss looked down at her, kissing her head before she opened rather bluntly "You know I tried to kill myself."

"You did?" Mary pulled back to look up at her "Why?"

"Because I saw it as my only way out." Fliss said gently, smoothing her hair back. "I was stuck in an awful situation. My ex-husband hurt me physically and mentally and I gave up. I wanted out."

Mary remained silent and looked at her.

"For someone to get to that point...they have to have hit rock bottom. Like there is nowhere to go. It's not their fault. And it doesn't mean they don't love the people they leave behind just that they're desperate to escape whatever pain they feel, be it in their head or their body or both."

"But I still don't understand." Mary shook her head.

"And you may never, not fully." Fliss said gently "And as horrible as it is that's something you are gonna have to live with but you have to remember that your mom was sick. And for whatever reason she saw this as her only escape. It wasn't Evelyn's fault, it wasn't Frank's fault and it certainly wasn't yours."

"But if she loved me like Frank says she did..."

"You think I don't love my mum? Or Bill? Or Steve?"

Mary blinked before she lay her head back against Fliss' shoulder. "Yeah"

"But I was still gonna leave them behind." Fliss sighed "I was desperate. And you wanna know the real stupid thing?"

"What?"

"When I got better I still went back. I went back to a real toxic environment and a man that abused me. Because I felt like it was what I deserved. And even though I left him way before I met you and Frank, it wasn't until me and Frank started dating that I really understood I wasn't to blame. I always thought I did something to make him hurt me but I didn't. Being with Frank, the way he treats me and loves me made me see that it was him with the problem, not me.”

"But that's different" Mary glanced up

"The trigger was, yes." Fliss nodded "But your mom, like me, was in a position so helpless, so unbelievably sad that she thought she was to blame and that the world, including you, would be better off without her even though she was so wrong."

**** Once showered and dried, Frank dressed in a pair of shorts and clean T-shirt before he headed back downstairs. There was no sign of Fliss or Mary but as he strode out into the garden he heard a car heading down the drive by the side of the house from the yard and correctly assumed it was Joanne leaving for the day. He opened the gate and just saw the tail of her car turn onto the main road as he headed into the garage for the charcoal to light the BBQ.

Once that was done, leaving the flames to die down he headed out across the lawn, vaulting over the small fence onto the yard. He headed round the barn and frowned as he couldn't see anyone. After a quick look round he spotted the door to Fliss' office was closed. He went to open it but stopped as he could hear the sound of voices. It was Mary and Fliss but he could tell from the pitch and stutters in Mary's that she was upset. He paused, hand hovering over the handle as he heard Fliss speaking to her softly. "Stack, you are so loved. Frank loves you, I love you, Nanny V, Poppa Bill, Uncle Steeby, Roberta, Evelyn...Thor, Fred and Monty..." she paused "You're such a special little girl and I know I'm not your mom but...I feel like I am."

"You do?"

"I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy. And so would Frank"

They both fell silent and Frank swallowed, the lump in his throat almost choking him.

"Don't ever feel like we don't" Fliss continued "and if I have to bake 200 fucking cookies for your Gala next week to prove it then I will."

Mary giggles "You know Bean can hear you swearing."

"Well I won't tell Frank if you don't"

"Do you think Frank feels like my dad?" Mary asked a moment later and at that point Frank really wanted to walk away. He couldn't listen to this, he didn't want to listen to this...but something kept him rooted to the spot.

"I know he does." Fliss replied.

"But he doesn't like it when people say it. I know that, I heard him talking to you. Bill’s not your real dad but you still say he is…."

“That’s slightly different sweetheart.” Fliss sighed "My real dad left my mom before I was born, so when he died…I didn’t even know him and I don’t care that I didn’t either. But your mom was Frank's sister. He wants to make sure you remember her, understand who she was. He could have easily just pretended to be your dad all this time, you would never have known any different but he didn't. Because he loves you and your mom too much. He's too honest and it’s important to him that you understand. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you like he is your dad, or that you can't love him like he is."

Frank turned away from the door, looking up at the sky and taking a deep shuddering breath. Fuck, this was hard to hear. He knew Mary had been upset before but the thought that it ran this deep was killing me. Wiping at his face, his hands then dropped to his hips and he looked down at his sneakers before he turned to the door, reaching for the handle but once more pausing as he couldn’t face interrupting them, not whilst they were in the middle of a moment.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Mary continued  “And I do love him like he is. And I love you like you’re my mom too.”

“Well that’s all that matters.” Fliss replied “It may be unconventional but we’re a family, and that’s the main thing huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Lissy.” Mary spoke.

“You’re welcome Stack” Lissy’s voice was soft and there was a pause as Frank could picture the pair of them hugging.

“Hey, did you now I’m going to be doing all the money stuff for the bake stall?” Mary’s voice was suddenly up beat as she switched topic “Because I’m good at maths they said I could be in charge of payments and handing people their change and stuff.”

“Nice work kiddo.” Fliss smiled, “Tell you what, we’ll put Nanny V on the case, her baking is way better than mine. We can get her over one night next week whilst Pops is helping Frank with the plastering in the nursery.”

Ok, that was it, safe to enter without interrupting anything. Frank gave a little knock and then opened the door, fixing a smile on his face.

“Hope I haven’t interrupted any girl talk” he smiled and Mary jumped up and ran to him, giving him a hug. He looked at Fliss who wiped her eyes.

“Ok?” he mouthed at her and she nodded back, her lips moving silently as she replied.

“Tell you later.”

“BBQ is lit.” Frank said, looking down at Mary “You still wanna play in the pool?”

She nodded and grinned. “Yeah.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Fliss grinned “Let’s lock up and head home…oh wait, we don’t need to head home because…” “We’re already there!” Mary grinned, and then she spun round to see Fred peering round the door. “Hey, look who came to visit!” “Bout time he earned his keep.” Frank grumbled “Go catch some mice.”

Fred stalked past him into the office, looked around, before he sauntered back out, clearly not interested.

“He’s a lover not a killer Frank.” Mary grinned, as Frank watched the cat walk off into the evening sun.

The three of them locked up before they headed back to the house and Mary shot upstairs to get changed.

“So, how much did you hear?” Fliss turned to Frank as he pulled a beer from the fridge along with a bottle of water, sliding it over to her.

“Enough.” he sighed “Her teacher collared me before. Said that one of the kids had asked about her mom in class and she’d gotten upset.”

“She asked me why Diane did what she did.” Fliss sighed, “Why she left her behind if she loved her so much.”

Frank swallowed. “What did you say?”

“I explained about why I tried to kill myself.” Fliss shrugged “Told her about the desperation I felt…but that didn’t mean that I didn’t love my family just that I saw it as my only way out. I know it was heavy and maybe not really the right thing to do but...”

She was cut off as Frank stepped forward, taking her face in his hands as he kissed her, hard. It took her a moment to catch up but once she did she melted into him, her mouth opening to grant him access as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip.

“Thank you.” he said gently as he pulled away, his hands still cupping her face.

“What for?” Fliss asked, reaching up to gently wrap her fingers around his wrists.

“For loving her as much as you do.” he said simply “for loving us both as much as you do.”

“Oh Sailor.” Fliss’ eyes brimmed with tears “How could I not?”

***** Frank didn’t sleep particularly well that night. Mary’s conversation with Fliss was running through his brain and every time he drifted off he would wake about an hour or so later, fresh worries and concerns running through his mind. In the end, at just before 5 am he gave up and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of sweats and putting them on he headed downstairs. He flipped on the TV in the hope the early morning new would distract him, but it didn’t.

It was clear to him that Mary was struggling with where she was going to fit in the family dynamic. He hadn’t really worried much up to that point, being convinced by Fliss that if they kept her involved with stuff to do with Bean she would be ok but this went much deeper than the fact they were expecting a baby.

He’d be lying if he said the thought of him claiming to be Mary’s Father had never entered his mind. It would have been a lot easier but out of loyalty and love to Diane he had wanted to make sure she knew about her mother, and understood the truth because in the end, a lie would always come round to bite you on the ass. It wasn’t that he had a problem with people assuming he was Mary’s father but…

God what a fucking mess.

“Hey…” a soft voice drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Fliss stood in the doorway, his T-shirt she was wearing now hardly covered the top of her thighs thanks to her Bean bump.

“Sorry beautiful, did I wake you?” he asked.

“No.” she shook her head, dropping down next to him. “I got up to pee and you were gone.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” he shrugged.

“What’s wrong handsome?”  she lay her head on his shoulder and he took a deep breath.

“Just thinking about Mary that’s all.” he shrugged. “She’s always asked questions about Diane but not like that.”

“She’s getting older Frank.” Fliss said, her hand reaching out for his as she began to play with his fingers “She’s bound to start thinking about things differently. She was ok last night after she talked to me, and then later you when you tucked her in. She doesn’t keep her feelings bottled up, and that’s good. It’s a testament to you that she feels like she can talk to us about things.”

“I know.” Frank looked down at her, kissing her head “I guess I just worry Lissy, worry about how she’s gonna feel when Bean is here and he’s calling us mom and dad and she doesn’t.”

“Frank.” Fliss sighed as she sat up straight. “Mary knows we love her. And what she calls us doesn’t change a damned thing. You’re worrying unduly now. We can’t do anything about that other than-“

“Yes, yes we could.” Frank looked at her. Fliss took a deep breath as his eyes locked onto hers, instantly understanding.

“I thought you said you’d never even consider adopting her?”

“I never thought I would.” he shrugged. “But it’s been playing on my mind after what mother said and then after last night…” “Why? What did Evelyn say?” Fliss asked.

“When she was here last, she told me that Diane’s memory wouldn’t suddenly fade if Mary called me dad…” he licked his lips “It was almost like she was giving me permission to do it…you know? Not that I need it or really give a shit what she thinks.” he paused, taking a deep breath “If I’m totally honest Diane isn’t the only reason I said I didn’t want to. I just never thought of myself as being dad material. I was such a screw up until I met you and I thought that by staying as her Uncle, it would give her that distance, you know?”

“Not dad material?” Fliss looked at him, shaking her head “Oh Frank, you idiot. You’ve done an amazing job with her…and you will do with Bean too.”

He smiled at her, sniffing slightly as she continued.

“But there is one person who’s opinion counts most here.” Fliss said gently “And that’s Mary. If you’re serious then you should ask her if it’s what she wants. Because after 9 years of calling you Frank…”

“I know.” Frank agreed, “And I agree, completely. It would have to be her decision. But at least if I ask her if she would like us to then-“

“Us?” Fliss looked at him, blinking. “You mean you want me to?”

“Of course I do.” Frank nodded, before he frowned slightly “But if that isn’t what you want, I understand. It’s a big-“ Fliss cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips “Of course I do Frank. I love Mary like she is my own anyway so…” Frank beamed at her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head. “So, we’re agreed. We ask her?”

Fliss nodded and pulled back, her hand resting on his cheek. “We ask her.”

[vonahalv]

The Mystery (part 3/?)

Later that same day...

“Jewel.  JEWEL.  I can’t get the door and carry you.  Open it for me.”  Coming out of her reverie, Anjewel apologized.  “I’m so sorry Finn! It must be the pain. I was lost in just trying to stay awake.  I hear that when you’re dreadfully hurt you shouldn’t fall asleep.”  As she was offering up this explanation, she opened the door and took in her surroundings while Finn walked her in.

He sat her gently on a chair and went to the check in counter.  Finn was speaking low, but she heard snippets of the conversation, including a note that the doctor was out for lunch and would be back soon.

The door opened again and Anjewel took a look to her left.  She felt the look of shock on her face and worked quickly to turn it into one of pain.  It’s HIM.  How terribly lucky.  I hope to never tire of saying that. It’s the only way I can stay in this line of work.  He walked past Finn and nodded to the receptionist.  The draenei is good. He showed no acknowledgement of knowing Finn, and Finn is oblivious right now.  Interesting.   Just then she heard Finn gasp.  “My gold pouch!  Jewel, I was going to cover this, but … well… I just had it.  Do you think someone in the crowd?  This is horrible!”

“It’s ok Finn.  I can handle it.  She looked past him to the receptionist and held up a coin.  “Why don’t you go see if you can find it? We haven’t been gone long, and I’m certain a good citizen has held onto it for you.  I can manage now.”  He nodded, replying, “Yes. That’s a good plan. I’ll be back for you soon.”  After Finn left, Anjewel stood and limped around the office looking at the paintings on the wall. 

It didn't take long for the receptionist to call her and Anjewel made her way to the indicated door down the hallway. Working to keep up the charade, Anjewel limped slowly placing her hands along the wall. Occasionally she would hit the wall just a little too loud, listening at the same time to see if there were hollow noises coming from the wall. She opened the door that had been indicated and saw the draenei sitting behind a desk.  He motioned to an examination table and moved to meet her there.

Anjewel closed and locked the door behind her.

The moment he got up from his chair and walked away from the desk, Anjewel was behind him.  She had pulled her daggers from behind her back, and she now had one touching his lower back, Is this where the kidneys are? I should remember…. and another held to his throat. 

“Two things, Doctor.  I’m not hurt.  And if you tell me the truth, you won’t be either.  I saw you exit from the Slaughtered Lamb.  I assume you hold a measure of power.  I’m holding the Fangs of the Devourer.  Fangs I took from Akaari Shadowgore.  Do you think you’re more powerful than Akaari Shadowgore?”

She felt him swallow as his tendrils pushed against the dagger in her hand.  “I’m just a middle man.  I hold the meetings because the Master cannot come to Stormwind. No one knows who I am, and I know only how to play a part.  My business is not doing well since the Uncrowned began taking a cut, and I’m working to supplement my income.”

She pushed the dagger against him a bit more, drawing some blood from his back.  “The meeting today with the man who brought me in. I want to know.”

Beads of sweat began to pour down his face, and yet she noticed his body wasn’t as tense as it should have been had he really been frightened.  “He was tasked by the Master to remove a support beam for the First within the Black Harvest.  For years he has been a friend to her sister and agreed to separate her.  I believe he’s been killing her ex-boyfriends and blaming the First, all in an effort to breed distrust.  He confirmed today it was done, and thus received his payment. He was set to simply watch her now until further notice.”

With each word, Anjewel’s mouth grew dryer and dryer, her feet threatening to give out from underneath her - for real this time.  The draenei felt his opportunity and pushed against her, his thick tail attempting to sweep her legs as he caught her off balance.  Anjewel called upon the Fangs and disappeared into shadow.  Her world slowed down and she jumped.  From above him she could see him turn in fear and dart for his desk.  I hate this part. Why do they try?

As she made her way over him, she released the shadow and fell onto his back - daggers plunging into soft flesh.  Yup, it was the kidneys. Good to know.  He screamed in agony as the poison entered his body. Grinning, she twisted the daggers further into him.

“I guess you didn’t know who Akaari Shadowgore was, huh?”  And with that, she dropped a dagger, grabbed a tendril, pulled back his head and slit his throat. 

Waiting to ensure he was dead, Anjewel slowly became aware of noises in the hallway, raised in concern, and heard the voice of the receptionist growing closer.  “Miss Black, Miss Black - is everything alright?”

“Yes Evette, thank you.  Call the cleaning crew would you?  I’m afraid the doctor made quite a mess of my ankle and there is blood just everywhere.  He’s gone and fainted and might need some attention himself.”

She didn’t need to see it to know that Evette would get the patients and their doctors or nurses back in their rooms and help keep them calm.  This was a place of professionalism of course. The Uncrowned, of which she was a part, would always ensure a professional atmosphere. But now I need to do something about this ankle. By the Light. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.  This strange litany passed through her as she clamped down on the leather handle of her dagger, stood on the desk and stepped off.  Moving her ankle at the last second, it hit hard and she heard a crack.  

Dragging herself to the medical table, Anjewel climbed up, put her daggers away and waited.  Soon, Evette entered, followed by an Uncrowned physician.  “What do you think doc? Does it look bad?”

After a short examination he replied, “You did a pretty good job.  Nice angle, clean break.  We can make the cover story work.  You’ll need to do a thorough write up on why you killed a staff member though.  In the meantime we’ll arrange for him to go missing.”  So many are missing lately. And now this one is mine. “You’ll be off your feet for several weeks, so I’ll put in a notice that you’re to be disqualified from mobile work.  Though maybe we can arrange for some stakeouts.”

“Understood.  I’ll write Valdis and see if she’s up for some family time.  And perhaps I can get Finn involved. Would you mind hand delivering a letter to her? It’s urgent, and it’s related to the debrief I’ll be giving later.”

Evette nodded and brought in some writing supplies. As the physician, John, worked on her ankle, and Evette worked to clean up any blood that found its way on Anjewel, she wrote:

“Dearest Emerald,

I was badly injured today, and if not for the swift assistance of my favorite physician, I don’t know if I would have managed.  I am told I cannot work and need round the clock aid for a short time.  Please tell me that my dearest person is available to console me and bake me my favorite cookies.  I think I may have figured out your secret ingredient and know just where you can get some at this time of year.  This messenger is known to me and will await your response. I have not yet received a response from my last letter, and if you have not yet crafted one, I beg you answer me in person.

Love,

Ruby”

Finishing her letter, Anjewel turned to Evette.  

“Evette, Valdis is cautious and I have advised her you will wait.  If she requires proof, mention that “the Ruby misses the Sapphire”. She will know you are known to me and should trust you.”  She turned to the physician.  “John, would you mind getting me out front before Finn is back?  I don’t need him trying to come back here to comfort me.”

Anjewel had just enough time to grab a seat, tuck her daggers away and smooth her hair before Finn walked in the door.  The look on his face was all she needed to make this hellscape of an afternoon better.  “No luck then Finn? I’m so sorry.”

She almost felt as if he cared for when she saw the look on his face as he took in her appearance.  He tried to take me from Valdis. He worked to undermine her and bring harm to her. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. Murderous rage flowed through her and she struggled to hold on.  Cleaning up one death would already be tough enough to do, and she didn’t care to explain two.

[liamscxtt]

a day in the life ; self para

when: thursday, august 28th

where: literally everywhere

nb: just a brief (long) narrative of what the typical day looks like for liam.

trigger warnings: homelessness, death and drug mentions, drug abuse

5:00am

there’s a moment when you first wake up when everything is just a haze. a moment when you forget who you are, what day it is -- all of your problems just don’t exist, for that moment. the moment only lasted a few seconds before the blaring sound of the alarms coming from the phone bring you back to the brutal aspects of reality. and yet, those were the best five seconds for liam.

groaning, he turned over and tapped on his screen, desperately trying to shut the alarm off; the bright screen burning his already sleep deprived eyes. he probably only got about three hours of sleep, if that. he was used to it at this point, and then there were days like today. days where he wanted to wither into the depths of his own self-loathing. 

he looked out the window to see the sun beginning to rise. a sky painted with shades of blues, purples, and oranges, almost like a messy yet somewhat neatly put together painting made by a middle schooler. there was something beautiful about waking up with the sun, parts of it that brought him peace. his sister loved watching the sunrise - she always went on and on about how sunrises were the true underdog; how mother nature picked it’s most beautiful mixture of colors for the sunrises, all because it took a special person to appreciate the beauty that came from it. he never really understood what she meant, until he was forced to watch the sun rise every single morning. and as always, she was right. sunsets had nothing against sunrises. 

these quiet mornings were the best part of liam’s day. the hours where he felt most connected to his sister and to himself. the hours he felt truly at peace. it was crazy to think that liam’s favorite time of the day was between 5:00am and 6:30am. 

he turned on his car to play youtube on his aux before climbing out of his vehicle. the sweet melody’s of the soft pitched tunes filled his car and the immediate area surrounding it, and a smile creeped on his face as one of her favorite songs began playing in the background. he wasn’t religious, but there was a part of him that truly found strength in knowing that his sister wasn’t far away. 

he rolled up the worn down mattress topper, collected his pillow and blanket in one hand. he broke down his bed as he pushed the backseat of his 2006 ford escape upright and neatly tucked his belongings into his trunk. 

5:30am

he pulled into the vacant parking lot of the soulstice gym. the gym was set to open in a half hour; luckily for him, there weren’t many college students that would dare to wake up at the crack of dawn just to work out. he stuffed everything he needed to get ready for the day into a duffle bag; shower supplies, and a clean outfit. he desperately needed to do laundry, and he needed to get food...but pay day wasn’t until next week. he was gonna have to find cash, and find it quick - maybe he’ll just pick up another shift at the bar. he practically lived at that place now.

his footsteps echoed through as he walked through the empty fitness center; not even the cleaners had arrived for their early morning shift. he quickly hopped into the showers and get ready for the day. lord knows he needed to wash the dirt and sins that painted his skin from the previous nights festivities. he couldn’t even recall what exactly happened, and that was both a blessing and a curse. it was shortly after he turned on all the lights and greeted the early morning cleaners, jimmy and george. 

“good morning, son!” greeted george. 

“mornin’, will.” jimmy greeted shortly after. 

jimmy and george worked closely together, and were usually gone for the day 2pm; and yet, liam knew the guys quite well. 

jimmy is in his early-forties, married with two children. he worked two full time jobs to get his children through school. his son played division II baseball at a school somewhere in the midwest, and is majoring in sports education. he wants to be a gym teacher. his daughter is studying to be a nurse at monarch. she aspires to work in women’s health. jimmy always spoke so highly of them two. 

george is in his mid-sixties, but is still kicking it like he’s twenty. he’s also married with children and even grandchildren, but his story is more tragic. he’s a retired firefighter, who is still working a full time job because his pension wasn’t enough to make ends meet. can’t make ends meet. his only daughter passed away at a young age - drug overdose, he says. his only son is constantly in and out of jail for drug charges - leaving george and his wife to take care and raise their two grandchildren, layla and michael. layla is 14 and is getting ready to start high school. she loves to play volleyball, and apparently is a natural. michael is 9 and is getting ready to start fourth grade. he love cars, spider man, legos, sonic, and baseball cards. he wants to be a youtube gamer when he grows up. liam didn’t know the kid, but he thought he was fucking awesome. 

two completely different stories, and yet liam believed that those two men deserved the world and then some.

“what’s up, guys?” liam greeted with a smile as he filled up his metal water bottle at the nearest filling station. “when are the kids set to go back, george?”

“this coming monday. mikey’s already complaining how he doesn’t need school to be a youtuber. apparently he’s ‘done his research’.” the comment makes both liam and jimmy laugh. 

“tell the little man to put that energy into a sport, or a trade. i need a new mechanic.” jim jested, once again causing the other two to laugh. “what about you, will? getting ready to start the semester back up? gabby is already stressing because some of her professors already posted the syllabus.” 

“shit, i haven’t even gotten my textbooks yet. i might have to join mikey with this whole youtuber plan and hope for the best.” liam said with a nervous chuckle. he almost had completely forgotten about the upcoming semester approaching. 

to quickly divert the question away from him, he spoke once more. “say, george. i found a few baseball cards at the bar the other night. remind me to bring them in for you.” 

“you’ll make that boys entire week. maybe i’ll use that to bribe him to go to school.” 

jimmy just smiled. “you’re a good kid, scotty boy. never change.” 

2:30pm

it had only been a half hour since liam clocked out from his morning job, and he quickly made his way over to the library. the mention of school that morning brought liam into a panic. he grabbed a spot at one of desks in the computer station, powering on the device and pulling out his notebook. luckily enough, most of the textbooks he needed the library had available. leaving his stuff behind, he went to go fetched them. 

he already had mastered the technique of not having his own textbooks. every week, he would go and scan all of the chapters he needed for each and every class. luckily, monarch offered free scanning and printing. he made small talk with the librarian that sat at the desk nearby as he printed out at least three weeks worth of chapters for each of his classes. 

he sat down once more, and took the time to put the pile of papers neatly into his binder. it was time to start planning. 

6:30pm

now it was time to work his night time job, mars bar. he was working with adrian tonight, so he knew it wouldn’t be that bad.

his stomach had been grumbling half way through his shift. he hadn’t eaten anything all day. but he continued to push through. he had to, at least until pay day. he continued to chug water; if his stomach was full of water, his body didn’t have time to remind him that it needed some sort of nutrients. he was a master manipulator when it came to his own body now. 

1:00am

the rounded out the tips that he received from his customers. it was a good night, and luckily enough he would be able to do laundry the next day. his body was tired, though; aching from the lack of sleep and abuse his body endured from the festivities. he felt like he could sleep for an entire month, and then some. 

he drove around for a bit after his shift, a thing he did as he needed to both unwind and find a somewhat safe space to park his car. university police were patrolling the parking lots that night, which immediately told him not to park there. he couldn’t park in greek row - too many people he knew by this point. he was left to park in a nearby park, in a nearby neighborhood. he found himself saying a small prayer that nobody would mess with him that night. 

he lit up a joint once he found his place, feeling the smoke fill his lungs as he listened to the calming music that played on the radio. ed sheeran was playing, a song from his multiply album. it was one of his and his sister’s favorite albums. that’s the one thing they shared in common, their taste in music. but she was more pop in a sense, and he was more edgy. but still, the music brought him comfort.

he got his bed ready; a mattress topper, paired with a pillow and a blanket. he made himself comfortable and looked at his phone, just to see he missed a text from his mother at 10:45pm.

hi honey! spoke with your aunt today, and we’re making plans for christmas. did your father reach out to you? let me know what plans he has set. i’ll arrange my trip around your plans. 

i hope you had a great day! i love you! ❤️

her message was followed by a bitmoji image of her holding a huge heart. and he smiled. 

i haven’t spoken to him all week, but i’ll reach out tomorrow and let you know. i’ll call you tomorrow. love you ❤️

there was a huge part of him that wanted to call her now, that wanted to tell her he had been struggling both physically and mentally...but then he remembered the damage and the financial burden his injury left. it ruined his family. he ruined his family. and just as he was about to press call, he let out a frustrated sigh before locking his phone and tossing it not too far away from him, rolling over to attempt to get some sort of rest.

just to do the same thing. all. over. again.

[agerefandom]

Forever More

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera

Words: 1,900

Characters: Christine Daaé /Erik (The Phantom)

Summary: Established relationship: a sugar sweet fanfiction exploring Christine and Erik’s life together with a focus on Erik as a traumatized age regressor and Christine’s attempts to re-parent him. 

Warnings: Erik and Christine are married as adults, but Christine thinks of adult!Erik and regressed!Erik as different parts of her life. Erik’s scars are present, and anxiety-ridden regression is mentioned but isn’t the focus. Erik calls Christine ‘Mama’ when he’s young. There is also a bathing scene with suggested nudity.

Note: Nobody requested this, I just rewatched one of my favourite stage productions of the show and the need for this fanfiction was consuming me... so here it is, brought to life! I hope at least one other regressor enjoys this ^-^ 

Christine had always known that living with Erik would be an adjustment, but there were many parts of it that she didn’t expect.

She had known that his sheet music would spread across the music room, always multiplying. She had known that he would have bad days, withdrawn or angry, that there would be nights when he wouldn’t come to bed because he was working or didn’t want to be near her. She had known that he would go back to wearing his masks sometimes, that he would leave entirely and go wandering through the catacombs or into the countryside.

Christine had also known that he would always return to her, removing his mask and kneeling at her feet, pressing his cheek to her thigh as she ran her fingers over the uneven scars on his head. This was their quiet ritual of forgiveness, marking his return as her husband.

There were other things about Erik that she hadn’t expected.

Christine was out during the day, teaching dance and singing lessons to children in the city, travelling from house to house. Erik made himself helpful, doing the chores, sewing Christine’s dresses, making their meals. Sometimes Christine felt like she had a new housekeeper instead of a husband, but she appreciated the help and made sure Erik received her thanks for every meal and new outfit.

Erik was a creature of many moods: sometimes he was playful, sometimes he was soft, sometimes angry or distant. Christine learned to navigate his emotional tempest, the times when she needed to leave before they fought and the times when she needed to wait him out.

Sometimes Erik was young. It used to happen when he woke up from nightmares, confused and afraid. He would cling to Christine, sobbing and vulnerable in a way she rarely saw. He was different in this space, but he was so different from day to day. It took her a while to realize that it was something different from his mood swings. He seemed disoriented in this space, confused by the house and even by Christine herself. He flinched at every movement but melted into her arms when she held him, clinging to her nightgown with a white-knuckled grip.

Christine asked Erik about it in the day, and he twisted his hands together, his shoulders squared. Said that sometimes he couldn’t remember that he’d grown up. Sometimes he thought he was still a child, lost and alone, but it always passed and he would come back to himself.

Christine’s heart broke for the boy that Erik had been, and what he couldn’t move on from: that abandonment, that fear that had been part of him for so long.

So she started to care more for Erik when he was young. Christine had never been very confident at sewing, but she modified a few patterns designed for children and made Erik a kilted suit, like the boys had worn when she was young. To her gratification, little Erik loved the kilt, running his hands over the fringed edges, and she ended up sewing three more from the same pattern so that he could wear them when one was dirty.

Erik started to be young more often, a few evenings a week, and they talked about it again. She assured him that she loved caring for him, that this was special to her, fulfilling a maternal spirit she’d never really intended to nurture. Christine told him that she always wanted to spend time with her husband, but she loved her little boy as well. Erik looked at her with that deep uncertain awe that he had sometimes when she told him that she loved him. It always made her heart feel like it was pressing against her ribs, like she wanted to take Erik and press him into her chest where he could be safe inside of her forever.

Christine knew that was impossible, but at least she could cradle him when he was young, teach him the love that his first mother had not given.

It became another part of their lives together, like the drawn curtains, and their country home, and Erik’s paintings scattered around the walls.

“Mama!”

“Erik!” Christine ran to embrace her little boy, wrapping her arms around his chest and squeezing tight. He was so much taller than her, but he fit inside her arms perfectly. “Little one, how have you been?”

“Mama!”

Erik wasn’t very talkative when he was young, and Christine thought he was probably very young indeed. Maybe two or three at the oldest, and she always wished she could carry him.

“Have you been drawing?” There were papers scattered across the floor. Erik was very proper about keeping his art on the desk when he was working, so it was probably a result of her little boy having fun with Erik’s art supplies. “May I see?”

Erik knelt to scoop up a handful of papers from the floor and held them up to her, smiling widely. Christine loved that expression. It had been hard-earned, and the switch from the scared little boy flinching at everything to an enthusiastic trouble-maker had been a long road. Erik still had his hard days as a boy, of course, days where he wouldn’t stop crying or where he was more confused than normal, but they were far less common than they had been when Christine had started caring for him.

“Oh, thank you.” Christine accepted the papers and started flipping through them. They were all charcoal drawings, and heavily smudged. That would explain why Erik had black all over his face: she had assumed that he’d gotten into the fireplace again. She would have to clean his hands before he started climbing on the furniture.

Erik was a talented artist as a grown man, but the ability did not translate to his younger self. Christine thought she could make out a stringed instrument in one of the drawings, and a figure with long hair in another. Most of them were scribbled messes of black, covering the page. Christine carefully shuffled the pages into an orderly stack and placed them on the table.

“Those are amazing, darling. We’ll have to add them to our scrapbook.” She had come across advertisements for children’s scrapbooks in a periodical and had immediately started buying the blank books to keep her little Erik’s work and interests in. He liked to help her arrange the clippings, and she liked having a record of his younger self. She would ask him what he’d been drawing when he was older again, writing his interpretations underneath. Her husband was always embarrassed but indulgent in the face of Christine’s enthusiasm.

“Scrapbook!” Erik echoed. He liked to say words back, usually in a way that made sense, but sometimes Christine thought he just liked the sound of certain words.

“We’ll do that later,” she told him, kneeling down to join him on the floor. “Right now, we need to get you washed off.”

“No!” Erik made a grab for the papers Christine had left on the table, and she intercepted his charcoal-smudged hands, gently interlacing their fingers.

“We’ll change you into your kilt afterwards,” she told him, and Erik’s expression changed to a less defiant one. Christine tried not to smile, even though the victory trilled in her chest. “Come on, little maestro, Mama wants you to play for her before dinner and you can’t touch the piano with dirty fingers.”

After that, Erik followed her to the bathroom willingly. Christine removed his clothes, waving away his attempts to help. He had clearly not been planning to be young when she got home, and he was still wearing his usual suit. Most of the charcoal smudges were on his dark wool trousers, which wasn’t much of a problem, but she didn’t want him to get it on the white shirt he was wearing.

She kissed his cheeks to distract him while she undid the buttons, paying equal attention to both cheeks, although she was gentle when she brushed kisses around the scars on his right side. He laughed, a carefree sound that she never heard from her husband. They both had lovely laughs, but they were so different. She loved them both so much.

Once Erik was free of his suit, she laid his clothes on the railing and sat her little boy down on a stool, bringing the washbasin over to clean his hands and face. He squirmed and whined, and she kissed his face again, cleaning off the charcoal with practiced sweeps of the sponge.

When the washing was done, she led him to their bedroom and pulled out his favourite outfit, a dark green kilt with a plain shirt and a vest. They had an English storybook with illustrations of a boy wearing an identical outfit, and it was one of Erik’s favourite stories when he was young like this.

With newly clean fingers, Erik dressed himself, although Christine swept in to tuck his shirt and straighten his collar.

“There we are,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “My handsome boy.”

Erik blinked up at her contentedly, his right eye only closing halfway because of the scar tissue that layered his eyelid back on itself.

“What do you think, Erik? Do you want to play for Mama?”

“Sing!” Erik popped up from the bed, reaching for Christine’s hand.

“Yes, darling, of course I’ll sing for you.” She drew him close and kissed his forehead, running a hand over his head. She’d convinced him to shave what little hair he had on his head, and now it was a soft surface of wrinkled scars and divots, perfect for running her hands over when they were cuddling.

“Sing!!” Erik protested, pulling away from her embrace. Things were clearly not moving quickly enough for him.

“Yes, yes, alright,” Christine relented, letting him pull her down the hall to their music room. Erik’s piano stood in the center, stacks of sheet music all around. He was much neater with his paintings because he had to be: his music wasn’t threatened by a stray foot stomping on them.

Erik sat on the piano bench and Christine sat beside him, resting her hand on his knee. “What will you play me today?” she asked as Erik placed his hands on the keys.

He didn’t answer with words, simply beginning the song when she was done speaking. Christine wasn’t sure why Erik was so talented at music when he was young, yet could hardly draw a straight line with charcoal. Perhaps it was something to do with his natural talents, or something else entirely, but Christine wasn’t complaining as he went straight into one of the most recent operas they had been learning together.

His memory for music was less jumbled than his other memories when he was young. Sometimes when he couldn’t even remember Christine, she could get through to him by singing familiar lullabies, soothing him slowly and bringing him back, helping him to remember that he was safe, that she wouldn’t hurt him, that she was safe.

Erik played, and Christine sang. He loved to hear her sing, even though he didn’t know that he was the one to teach her. For now, she was his mother, and she was proud of his music, and that was all that mattered.

She was making sure that he knew he was loved, now and always. Forever more.

[scream-tears]

The Royal Invitation - Part 2

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin. 

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do. 

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band. 

Co-written with @aweirdkindofyellow

Chapter 2

Alex’s POV:

I brushed the tips of my fingers against the banister, walking up the large spiralling staircase to where I recalled the library being. The walls were painted in a deep teal, embellished with golden patterns and trims, signifying the signature colours of the kingdom. 

The south corridor in itself was by far the greatest. Having had the King's library and other rooms among it meant that each alcove withheld a painting of the generation from the period. Dating back to 1673, I eventually found myself far enough down the corridor to stop at a certain painting in particular.

A sheepish grin adorned her pink lips, enhancing her lightly tanned complexion whilst her long blonde locks were tied back into a ponytail. Her arms were wrapped tightly around the King's neck whilst he tilted her crown slightly and grinned down at her. I smiled weakly at the two of them, somewhat understanding how she must be feeling.

I pushed through the door beside the alcove, finding myself in the same room I had stumbled into the day before. With tall shelves teeming with books of all kinds and rays of sunlight pouring in, it was a given that this, of all places, would be her hideout.

I strolled through the small walkway separating the books from the main area, eventually finding myself leant against the far bookcase, admiring the scene at hand.

She shuffled around, carefully placing each of her canvases in the far corners of the room out of the way, clearing a floor space in the middle. Her assortment of brushes and paints were soon placed onto the desk in no particular order and she fell down into the large crimson chair, spinning softly as though to contemplate her next move. I smirked as her eyes met with mine, moving from the bookcase to the stool as she continued to stare at me, her eyebrows arched.

"Can I help you, Gaskarth?" Aerowyn asked, her Dalewinian accent shielded by what I recognised to be American. I couldn't help but question her history.

"Nope." I replied; she rolled her eyes, leaning back to the point where she was submerged in the leather material. "But maybe I could help you?..."

She perked up at my remark, glancing at each aspect of my face before trailing her eyes over my body. I felt judged. Her eyes were like sharp needles, poking at each imperfection she found.

"Actually, you can." She stood up, leaning against the desk as she began arranging the colours, occasionally glancing back up at me beneath her eyelashes. I stared back at her–a proud smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she finally stood up. "I need a body."

"A body? I mean, the one you've got there is just fine." I winked, playing off the dooshe-bag attitude that I had been so flawless with at home–she rolled her eyes again. Clearly not so much here.

"I need a body to paint on. Your body." She declared, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she did. I surveyed the way her thumb caressed the side of her cheek, and for a second, I envied it.

"Okay…"

"So you up for it?" The grin against her lips was enough of a persuasion to say yes. I nodded.

Before I arrived I had been warned, particularly because of my history, that I had to be on my best behaviour. 'The princess is a lady', Garry insisted. Never did I ever have stripping down into my boxers for her to paint on me in the agenda. This girl before me was far from what I had been told. She was human.

Before long I was seated again, my exposed legs pressing against the cold surface of the wooden stool. I rubbed the back of my neck instinctively, watching as she began mixing the colours she wanted.

The first stroke was strange. The bristles brushed delicately against my skin leaving a trail of gooey substance behind. I looked up at Aerowyn, though she was too occupied with her art to notice. I watched the way her eyebrow raised when she questioned the direction the brush moved, and the way the tip of her tongue stuck out of the end of her mouth as she concentrated on the task at hand. I chuckled lightly, breathing in as she gripped my wrist in order to keep my arm still. Her touch was gentle and caressing, her fingers soft against my skin.

"Do you do this a lot? " I asked, keeping my eye on the brush strokes as I attempted to break the silence engulfing us.

"Not the way I used to." She replied vaguely.

"How so?" Part of me knew I was breaking the rules and overstepping the boundaries by pushing for an answer, but I was literally sat in my underwear–the line was crossed a long time ago.

"Long story short, I'm an art student and so my artwork tends to be less courageous and more... simplistic, for it's time limits." I nodded, understanding the time pressure that comes with making art. Occasionally the studio would ask for another song and want it in by the next day, so it tended to be random and extremely stereotypical as far as lyrics were concerned.

"Well I thin-" I trailed off, staring down at her hand as it pressed against my chest. In the process of a short conversation she had finished the basis of my arm, eventually trailing up to my shoulder.

"You think what?" She mumbled smugly, the side of her cheek arching as she tried to hide her smirk. I gulped, noting that she was reading my body just as much as I was trying to hide it.

"I think that as soon as you graduate and get away from the restrictions of school, you'll have more of an opportunity to create art like this. Art that you love." Saved it.

Silence engulfed us once more, the heavy breathing and movement of bristles being the only sound emanating from the room.

Within an hour she had completed my chest and arm, deciding she'd do it in segments and just piece it together when complete. I stood in front of the bookcase, trying out some of the many poses I had learned from all the photoshoots I'd attended. I guess being in a band has its perks after all.

I pulled my shirt over the now dry and crumbling paint, fastening the buttons as I looked over at Aerowyn beneath my lashes. She was shuffling around again, returning everything back to its original position–the art supplies returning back to draw.

She fell down into the crimson chair, spinning slowly as her laptop began to load. Inserting the memory stick from the camera into the laptop, she glanced over the screen, smiling weakly as her eyes caught mine. 

"Want to see the pictures?" Her voice was warm and soothing. A feeling of relief washed over me as she actually spoke, beckoning me over to the screen. I crouched down beside her, admiring the art she had created with nothing but paints and my skin.

"They're amazing. You're amazing." I stuttered, peering over at Aerowyn as her cheeks burned a blush red. I smiled smugly, turning back to the pictures as she scrolled through.

"I like that one," she pointed to one picture in particular. I was stood in front of the bookcase, officially getting bored of the shoot, so I pulled the funniest face achievable. I just happened to make even Aerowyn laugh in the process.

"It's a shame I didn't steal the camera. I'm an expert as far as photography goes." I added smugly, grinning over at Aerowyn as she rolled her eyes.

"Your so pompous." She moaned, smiling playfully. It was just like the portrait–young, curious and full of innocence. 

"I do try." I winked, smirking as I stood up from my crouched position beside her. She spun to face me, staring up at my towering figure. "I should go and get cleaned up in time for dinner."

"Of course," she nodded understandingly. It was around an hour before everyone was expected downstairs for dinner, including myself seen as though there was lot's to discuss with Gary and the king.

"Goodbye, Princess." I added, attempting to read the emotion hidden behind the facade. Nothing.

"Goodbye, Alex." 

I turned on my heel, heading though the small hallway and out of the large doors. I hurried along to the west wing, bee-lining for my room in a rush to get cleaned up. I wasn't usually this eager to attend formal events like this one, but it meant seeing Aerowyn again. It was about time I got a taste of the princess they were all talking about.

[fandomsforyourthots]

Failed Lessons || Modern ArthurXF!reader

So I had gotten a suggestion for an idea for a fic, and halfway through me writing it, my kid decided to try to eat my phone, deleting everything. So I said fuck it 😂 i needed to write something cute to get my mind off it. So have some fluff!!

*************

He doesn't notice her walk in at first. Her steps are light and she's gentle on the door as she opens and closes it behind her. That's why when she finally speaks, Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Looks like it’s just me and you tonight sir.”

“Jesus Christ! Woman you nearly gave me a heart attack!” He shouts as he clutches his chest before taking a deep breath.

He quickly closed what looked like a journal of sorts and set it down on the desk in front of him before sighing and meeting her eyes.

“Wasn’t my intention, I promise.” She says intently, taking a few steps forward and placing what looked to be a slew of art supplies on a table in the middle of the room. “I was running late so I figured you would have already started, but…..”

“Yeah…” He looked around at the two empty rows of tables, and then back to her as she stood near one a row away from him. “Suppose schedulin' this at seven pm on a Tuesday wasn’t the best idea.”

She let a string of gentle amused laughter pass her lips and Arthur couldn't help but to notice that it was a pleasing sound to his ears.

“Yeah, can’t see too many adults this day in age having the free time to take a free art class at the community center on an evening in the middle of the week.”

“Alright, now yer just rubbin' salt in my wounds.” He says through a chuckle.

She chuckles along with him until she notices that he's packing up his own supplies.

“Hey, you aren't gonna leave are you?”

“That was the plan, unless you plan on tryin’ to endure two hours of my company alone.”

She smiled at him and grabbed her things before replacing them on the table right in front of his desk.

“I didn't fight to find a parking spot amidst all those youth basketball moms just for my art teacher to run out on me due to his poor planning.” She teased as she sat in one of the two chairs at the table, patting the other one in a gesture for him to sit.

“I'm (Y/n) by the way.” She says as she opens her sketchpad and neatly arranges a few pencils next to it.

“Arthur.”

A soft smile tugs at her lips as she looks up at him. “It’s nice to meet you Arthur. I'm not gonna lie, you aren't exactly who I was expecting to be leading this class.”

“Oh yeah?” He questions as he sits down next to her and places his supplies on the table. “And who exactly was you expectin'?”

“Some wrinkly old lady dead set on teaching about the exciting art of knitting maybe.”

That pulls a laugh from Arthur’s mouth. He opens his journal to a blank page before looking over at her supplies and then her. She had started doodling on her pad so Arthur took the time to study her.

He watched her eyes dart across the page silently as she made lines and shades here and there across the paper, noting the pretty shade they turned when the bright light of the room hit them just right.

He found himself attracted to her, glad that she seemed to be the only adult in the city with the free time to take an evening art class.

“So, you gonna teach me anything or are you just gonna stare at me for two hours?” She asked playfully as she looked over at him.

Arthur could feel the blush creeping to his cheeks at being caught, hoping that it wasn’t as deep as it felt.

“My apologies, didn’t mean to be a creep.” He muttered, before picking up his own pencil and sneakily starting a profile sketch of the woman next to him.

“No apologies needed.” She responded before resuming her drawing. “So, Arthur, is this your full time job, or are you just channeling your inner Bob Ross for a night?”

He laughed at that, and she smiled at the sound of it, secretly happy she could pull such a sound from the man.

“Well technically, this is my day job, just not here. I teach, or attempt to teach, art at the middle school a few blocks from here.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise but kept her eyes on the paper in front of her. “So you teach art to children?”

“Like I said, I attempt to. The lot of them usually just end up havin' a competition to see who can leave class covered in the most paint, or lead, or charcoal, or whatever.”

The statement itself would make anyone seem like he hated his job, but (Y/n) noticed that there was no malice in his words. In fact, there was a subtle happiness in his eyes now as he switched pencils and continued to draw.

She couldn't help it, but as she was looking at him she noticed just how handsome he was. His brown hair was a little past the middle of his ear and parted on the left side, tufts of it swaying gently as he moved with his pencil.

His eyes were the prettiest shade of blue-green she had ever seen, like the ocean on the clearest and sunniest of days. And he had the starting stubble of what was surely a nice beard growing in.

He was god damn dreamy.

“And what is it you do for a livin', miss?”

“I actually teach as well, believe it or not. Ballet.”

He looked over at her with a teasing grin. “Ballet huh? You any good?”

“Well I do teach it, so……”

“…. Right.”

They both shared a lighthearted chuckle at Arthur's failed attempt at teasing her before falling into a companionable silence. They sat next to each other with nothing but the sound of pencil, paper, and a few words here and there between them for almost three hours, and it would have been more had Arthur not glanced down at his watch and noticed the time.

“Jesus.” He muttered as he sat back in his chair and wiped his face with his hands. “I reckon we’re the only ones here at this hour.”

She looked up from her nearly finished sketch and yawned as she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, didn’t realize time was moving so fast.”

She stood up and gave a long stretch before beginning to pack away her pencils. Arthur reached for his own belongings as well, but before he could make any progress he happened to lock eyes with her sketchpad, his own eyes thinning in confusion.

“Well shit, miss.” He muttered as he slid the pad closer to himself and gazed at the picture on the paper with a mixture of emotions.

He looked up at her in hopes of conveying his question, but when he saw that she wasn’t catching on he decided to look back down.

“This is…..well…. me, first of all, but besides that it’s really damn good.”

“You really like it? Wasn't too sure if I was gonna do you justice.”

Arthur still looked utterly lost. A silence hung between them for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and slid the object back to her.

“You do know this was a class for beginners, right?”

She couldn't help but to chuckle softly to herself as she started to gently tear the drawn on paper from the stack. She could feel Arthur watching her as she gently scribbled on a clean portion of it before pushing it over to Arthur.

“I do know this class was for beginners actually, and I’m afriad I haven’t been very truthful with you Arthur.” She giggled out as she gathered her things in her arms and turned to him. “I teach ballet at the dance company a couple blocks from here, but I also teach a few classes here from time to time. I was on my way to my car when I saw you in here looking a little lonely, figured I’d come keep you company if you wanted it.”

It took Arthur a moment to react, his eyes scanning hers for any sign of a lie, before his confusion gave way to soft laughter.

“So you dance, you draw, you lie, is there anything you don't do miss?” He asked with an amused tone.

She joined in his laughter as she slowly headed towards the door to the hallway, her hand stopping on the knob so she could look back at Arthur.

“I don't text back after twelve.” She said cheekily, nodding towards the drawing on the table before turning and leaving the room.

Arthur’s brows were knit together as he looked back down towards the little scribble now in the bottom right corner of the paper. It was her name, and what he presumed was her phone number, and all he could do was scoff as he neatly folded and tucked the paper into pocket.

************

Later that evening, at around eleven fifty-eight, (Y/n) smiled softly to herself as she lay in her bed. She stared up at her phone in her hands, the bright light illuminating the surrounding darkness.

She hadn’t been expecting the notification, but there it was, a text from an unknown number. She opened it and laughed out loud when she read it.

‘Did I make it?’

Her thumbs tapped away before hitting send. With a content smile, she locked her phone and placed it on her nightstand before settling into her bed for the night.

***********

When Arthur's phone went off at exactly twelve he felt that he opened the text a little to rapidly for his liking. Though, when he finally did read it, he was glad he had. His nerves had been racing at the idea of texting her, but when he saw her response it all melted away.

‘You sure did. Have a good night Arthur. P.S. Shitty class by the way, I didn’t even learn anything ;)’

He chuckled to himself and tossed his phone on his bed.

“What a woman.”

He stripped down to his boxers and flipped the lights off before collapsing in his bed. He knew he was going to be dogshit tired during class later that day, but he finds himself thinking it was worth it. Especially when he finally drifts to sleep and can only recall dreaming of a certain sneaky ballet teacher.

[emospritelet]

Kiss of Life - Final chapter

So, after months of poor Dr Gold being socially awkward and emotionally constipated he finally (with the help of his friends) got his girl.  It seems fitting to leave them in their happy place.  Thanks to everyone who followed and commented and sent asks to these idiots!  This is the end.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] {Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28]

AO3 link

Belle coughed, her eyes watering as she choked on the dust and what felt like the desiccated remains of a hundred insects, swept from the top of the stacks. She blinked rapidly, rubbing streaming eyes as she told herself to get higher on the ladder before trying to clean.  Pushing herself up the rungs of the wheeled ladder, she tucked a dust-covered lock of hair behind her ear and coughed again as she looked over the top of the bookshelves.

After almost a full day’s cleaning, the library was looking much better.  The books had been taken down and sorted into piles depending on whether they were staying or going, and she had made spreadsheet catalogue of everything she was keeping.  She needed to start making a list of the titles she wanted to procure, as well, but that could wait.  The Mayor’s allowance would have to be used wisely.

All the stacks bar the one she was standing on had been cleaned, the windows washed, light bulbs replaced and the blinds taken down and scrubbed.  The library was brighter and lighter, almost free from dust (she still had to mop the floor once she’d finished with the stacks) and smelling of orange oil and Windex.  The circulation desk was clear, awaiting the new computer system she had been promised, along with a new chair and the children’s supplies she had ordered.

She finished cleaning the shelving, rubbing vigorously to ensure the last speck of dust was removed, and heard a faint creak from the library door, followed by a rhythmic tapping.  Smiling to herself, she kept her back to the noise.  She had a fairly good idea who was making it.

“Well, there’s a lovely sight.”

Gold’s voice floated upwards, and Belle grinned, turning a little so that she could eye him over her shoulder.  He was smiling up at her, hands folded over the handle of his cane, in the black suit and red shirt combination she liked so much.

“I could say the same about you,” she said.  “What are you doing here?”

“We had a date, remember?”

“At seven,” she reminded him.

“It is seven,” he said gently.

“It is?”  Belle groaned.  “No wonder my feet hurt!  I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

“No matter,” he said.  “It’s not as though we made a reservation anywhere.”

He held up a hand, and she turned to take it, using him for balance as she stepped down to the floor.  She dropped the dirty rag into a bucket of murky water and wiped her hands on her overalls before stretching up on her toes to kiss him and then dropping back onto her heels.

“Sorry, I’m a disgusting, dirty mess,” she said.

“You look beautiful.”

“I bet I have dust on my nose,” she said, and he grinned, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, that’s true, but you’re still beautiful.”

“Flatterer.”  She slipped her arms around his waist, letting out a contented sigh.  “Want to come upstairs and check the apartment out with me?  I could do with taking a shower.”

“Why don’t I let you do that?” he suggested.  “I seem to remember you telling me that the apartment is somewhat lacking in furniture.”

“Nothing but a rickety old kitchen table and chairs,” she confirmed ruefully.  “I need to get that sorted.  Ruby said she’d drive me out to the next town to pick up a bed on Monday.”

“Does the shower work?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with the hot water,” she said.  “The whole thing needs a good clean and a lick of paint and a little TLC, but it’ll be nice and cosy when I’m done.”

“And do you have something to change into?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Brought over a bunch of my stuff this morning,” she said.  “I figured I might as well start moving in.  It’ll encourage me to clean the place up.”

“In that case, I’ll wait down here,” he said.  “I’ll see if I can rustle up some dinner for us.”

“Good, I’m starving!”

She kissed him again, and trotted off to the door that led to the staircase up to her apartment.  The place looked somewhat forlorn, the single bedroom empty of anything but the suitcase she had brought over, a fine layer of dust and two dead flies on the windowsill.  Belle was certain that she could make it into a home, and was excited by the prospect.  She took a towel, toiletries and a clean outfit into the bathroom, and turned on the shower.  At least she had thought to clean the bathroom, so she had somewhere clean to get changed.  She would have to return to her father’s that evening, though; she didn’t have the energy to clean any more of the rooms, and she had nothing to sleep on in any case.

The water was pleasantly hot, a decent amount of pressure coming out, and she spent some time in the shower, scrubbing the dust and grime from herself and washing her hair.  Once out, she dried off and dressed in a little woollen dress in dark green over tights and comfortable boots.  A small cardigan kept the chill from her, and she brushed out her hair and applied a little lipstick before heading back down the stairs.  The gentle sound of music was floating up from the library, something classical and soothing that made her smile.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, as she rounded the corner into the library.  “I was—”

She cut off, mouth falling open.  The library blinds had been drawn, the light dim except for thick candles flickering on the circulation desk and around a thick blanket, set with cushions.  Gold was standing next to it, looking by turns nervous and self-satisfied, his jacket draped over the desk to reveal his waistcoat and the red silk shirt beneath.  There was a vase of flowers, red roses and lush greenery, and an ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne sticking out of it.  She could smell something savoury, garlic and herbs and wine, and she caught his eye with a grin.

“A picnic?” she said, and he shrugged.

“We did have a date, after all.”

Belle smiled broadly, and wandered over to the blanket, settling herself down on the cushions.

“How did you manage to arrange all this?” she asked.

“Well, Dorothy and Jefferson helped me carry everything to the car,” he said, getting down beside her.  “As for the food, I arranged for that to be delivered.  Fresh pasta from Marco’s.  I hope that’s alright.”

“Delicious.”

She settled back with a sigh as he went about preparing their meal, opening up dishes and setting them down between them.  The savoury scents were stronger, and Belle sniffed eagerly.

“Baked rigatoni, and ravioli with a squash and sage filling,” he said.  “There’s a little basil pesto on that one.  Help yourself.  There’s garlic bread, too.”

Belle took a fork and dug in, watching as melted cheese stretched and snapped before taking a mouthful of the rigatoni.  Rich ragu sauce made her mouth water, and she made a contented noise as she chewed.  Gold grinned, and reached behind him for some champagne flutes, pouring them each a glass.  Belle put her fork down to take hers, and he raised his own, holding her gaze.

“To us,” he said quietly, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip.

The champagne was crisp and fruity, foaming on her tongue, and Belle set down her glass and sighed happily.  He was grinning at her, eyes twinkling, and she took up her fork again, this time aiming for the ravioli.

“This is amazing,” she said.  “You’re just the best, really.”

“We should start as we mean to go on, don’t you think?”

“Candlelit pasta picnics in the library?” She winked at him.  “I’m in.”

He grinned, taking a forkful of rigatoni, and there was silence for awhile as they ate.  Belle mopped up pesto sauce with a piece of garlic bread, and then speared a piece of ravioli and popped it into her mouth.  Gold licked oil from his thumb and shifted a little, lounging back against the cushions.  He glanced across at her, raising an eyebrow.

“How is Operation Librarian going, then?”

Belle chuckled, and reached for her champagne, taking a sip.

“I’ve mostly sorted the books into what’s staying and what’s going,” she said. “I need to make a list of the titles I need, and get the equipment in her and set up.  At the moment I’m thinking we should be able to open in a week or so. Providing the computer system works and the books I order arrive.”

“Exciting.”

“It is.”  She dipped bread into the rigatoni sauce, enjoying the pungent taste of garlic and herbs and the richness of tomato sauce and olive oil on her tongue. “I had a talk with the elementary school.  I’m going to run some after-school classes with the kids.  I thought I’d keep the hospital library service going too, only this time I should have more of a selection of books for the patients to choose.”

“Sounds as though you’re really finding your feet,” he said.  “If I can help at all, let me know.”

“I may need kisses and snuggles after my long days,” she said, pouting, and he grinned.

“Consider it done.”

She smiled, and took another sip of wine before digging into the pasta again.

“I told my dad I was moving out, too,” she said.  “He wasn’t happy.”

“Ah.”

Gold’s voice was neutral, and Belle sighed.

“It wasn’t just about you,” she said.  “Although he was a pain in the arse about that, too.  It’s just - I don’t think he wants to be on his own.  He doesn’t seem to get that I might want my own life, that I have things to do other than look after him.”

“He managed when you were at college, I presume.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  Guess he got used to having me around.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to put your own life on hold, however.”

“Good, because I have no intention of doing so.”

They shared a smile, and Gold reached for his drink.

“Well, here’s to your new life,” he said, raising the glass.  “Belle French, Librarian Extraordinaire.  Keeper of the Secrets of Storybrooke and Bringer of Knowledge.”

“Granter of Library Cards, Protector of the Stock, and Seeker of the Overdue Tomes,” added Belle.

“Long may she reign,” said Gold solemnly, and they clinked glasses as Belle giggled.

They finished off the pasta, and Belle wiped the last piece of garlic bread around one of the dishes, chewing it up before sucking olive oil from her fingers with a contented hum.  Gold was watching her, a tiny smile on his face.

“Done?”

“Done,” she said, with a sigh.  “That was delicious.”

He cleared away the dishes, packing everything into the bag it had arrived in, ready for the trash, and poured them another glass of champagne.  Belle settled back against the cushions, pleasantly full and happy, and he shifted a little, edging closer.  Belle turned on her side, leaning over to kiss him gently.

“This was perfect,” she whispered.  “Thank you.”

Gold reached up, gently brushing a curl back from her cheek, finger trailing along her jawline.

“That was only the first course,” he said, and she groaned.

“I couldn’t eat another thing!”

“All the more for me, then,” he said, with a grin, and she frowned.

“Wait, what is it?”

“Tiramisu,” he said. ��“But it can wait, don’t worry.”

“Not too long…”

She leaned in, pressing her mouth to his, and his hand slid around to cup her head, holding her as they kissed, his tongue gently stroking against hers.  He broke the kiss, soft lips parting, and his eyes were gleaming darkly.

“There are other things we could do,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise.  “Things I know you’ll like.”

“Hmm.”  She smirked at him.  “Getting you naked one time appears to have improved your confidence.  I like it.”

“Well, it was a very memorable experience,” he said, brushing a thumb over her lower lip.  “Life-changing, in fact.”

“For me, too.”

She kissed him again, more urgently, and he shifted closer, his hand sweeping down her back and tugging her closer before slowly rolling her onto her back. Belle moaned, stroking her fingers through his hair, enjoying the taste of him and the firm weight of his body atop hers.  Gold pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck and making her shiver.

“Fooling around in the library,” he murmured.  “We’ll get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry,” she gasped.  “I’m not expecting either of us to stay silent.”

“Good.”

He kissed lower, hands sliding down her body, cupping her breasts and tracing the curves of her waist and hips before tugging at the dress and pulling it upwards. Belle pushed up a little, shrugging off the cardigan, and he knelt up, tugging the dress over her head and tossing it aside before lowering her back down.  The air was cool on her skin, but his body was warm, his touch welcome, and she let her head roll back against the cushions as he kissed down over her belly, fingers hooking over the waistband of her tights and underwear and pulling them down in one.

It felt strange, lying there in the midst of the candlelit library on a pile of blankets and cushions, practically naked.  Belle closed her eyes, losing herself in the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue as he pushed her thighs apart, and she rose up with a moan of pleasure as his tongue flickered over her clit.  Gold groaned, hands flat against her thighs, his breath hot against her tender flesh, his tongue soft and wet.

“That’s so good!” she whispered.

He began to lick her in a slow, steady rhythm, sending jolts of pleasure through her with every circling pass of his tongue.  She had curled her fingers in his hair, soft locks wrapped around them, and his tongue flickered and swirled, making her moan, a flush blooming in her cheeks and at the top of her chest.  His hand moved a little, one finger stroking through wet flesh, gently pushing inside her as his tongue swept over her clit.  The feel of it increased the sensations, and she moaned, pushing her hips upward a little to let him slide deeper.  Slowly, he drew out the finger almost all the way before thrusting it in again, and Belle let out a tiny cry, feeling her body grow taut, feeling her climax approach.  He thrust into her again, tongue flickering, and she whimpered, rocking her hips, wanting more of him inside her, wanting all of him.

She sucked in a breath and held it, her pulse pounding in her throat, and exhaled loudly as she came with a loud cry, her body jerking.  Gold groaned again, pulling the finger from her and putting his mouth to her once more, his tongue swirling over her flesh.  She tried to catch her breath, letting an arm fall over her eyes as her chest heaved, and he began kissing his way back up over her belly until he was braced on the palms of his hands.  She let the arm fall to the side, and he was gazing down at her, a smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes.  His mouth and chin glistened with fluid, and she watched as he wiped it off with a swift movement of his palm.

“Well, look who’s overdressed,” she said, a little breathlessly, and reached up to tug at the knot in his tie.

It didn’t take long to get him naked; he remembered to take off his shoes before his pants this time, as he dryly remarked upon.  Belle giggled as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, his own hands shoving frantically at his underwear.

“Patience, Dr Gold,” she chided.

“Fuck patience,” he growled.  “You taste too good for patience.”

She chuckled, reaching for one of the condoms he had dropped on the blankets, and tore open the packet just as he finally tossed his underwear into the darkness beyond the candles.  Within moments he was pushed up against her, Belle’s hands on his shoulders, her chest heaving as she met his eyes.  He was breathing heavily, and pressed his forehead to hers, a moment of calm.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she nodded.

“I love you too.”

He moved, pushing inside her slowly, and she gasped, knees drawing up, feeling him sink deep, a low groan coming from him as his body pressed against hers, his cock buried within her.  She wrapped her legs around his back, holding him close, feeling the heat from his body, the wetness where they were joined.  He began to move with slow, grinding motions of his hips, tight circles letting him rub against her as he pushed deep inside, and Belle moaned, clinging to him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his back.  It felt incredible, and she let her hips lift and fall, increasing the friction between them, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“God, that’s amazing!” she whispered.

He bent his head to kiss her neck, mouth sucking at her pulse point, his tongue sweeping over her skin.  She could smell her own scent on him, her arousal mixed with the musk of his sweat, and she tightened her grip on him, holding him close, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his throat.  Gold thrust deep with a groaning gasp, his cock hard and rigid inside her.  He quickened his pace, hips pumping, and let out a harsh cry as he came, his cock pulsing.  Belle moaned, pumping her hips against his, the sensations taking her with him in a wave of pleasure and a rush of heat.

He was still moving with short, shallow thrusts, and she kissed along his jaw, nipping at his chin.  His mouth found hers, and his movements slowed and stopped as he kissed her, a deep rumble of contentment vibrating through them.  Gold let their lips part, breathing hard, his nose just brushing hers, and Belle smiled happily.

“Well,” she murmured.  “That was wonderful.”

He grinned, kissing her again, and shifted a little, pushing himself up on his elbows, fingers idly stroking her hair as their breathing eased.  Belle glanced around, noting that one of the candles had gone out.  Bookshelves were square blocks of shadow beyond them, thin strips of yellowish light coming in through the blinds from the streetlights outside.

“I wonder if that’s the first action the library has seen,” she said, and Gold chuckled.

“With any luck it won’t be the last.”

“Not if this librarian has anything to say about it, that’s for sure.”

His grin widened, specks of gold gleaming in his eyes, his skin warm in the candlelight.  There was a softness in his gaze, a look of tender devotion that made her heart thump a little harder, and his finger trailed across her cheek, tracing its curve.

“Move in with me,” he murmured, and Belle blinked.

“What?”

He smiled.

“Move in with me.”

She opened and closed her mouth, her heart thumping.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”  

“Wow,” she remarked flatly.  “So it takes you months to work up the courage to ask me out, and now you have there’s no stopping you, hmm?  What happened to Mr I Overthink Everything?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe it feels right to ask precisely because I spent so long overthinking everything.”

“So you’ve thought about this a lot, then?”

“I have.”  He kissed her forehead.  “My house needs you in it.  I knew it the moment I woke up with you.  Actually, fuck it, I knew the moment you left after having the flu, I just didn’t want to admit it.  I love you, and I want to wake up beside you and make you breakfast and snuggle up with a book every night.”

Belle smiled, her heart swelling with love for him, and stroked his cheek with a gentle finger, brushing a lock of his hair away before it flopped back.

“Tell me more,” she whispered.

“I want to buy groceries together and cook while we drink wine and sing along to music,” he said.  “I want to dance with you in the kitchen and take bubble baths and drink tea on the back porch while we watch the snow fall.”

“You didn’t even get to the hot sex part and I’m sold.”

He grinned at that, leaning in a little.

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of hot sex,” he growled, and Belle giggled.

“Well, since you’re so full of surprises and clearly have no intention of taking things slow, are you planning on proposing any time soon?” she asked, with a wry grin.  “Be nice to have a little warning, if so.”

“That was my plan for Tuesday,” he said gravely, and she giggled again, stroking her fingers through his hair.

“Okay, now I know you’re not serious.”

“Well, not about that,” he admitted.  “Not yet, anyway.  But I do think it makes complete sense for you to move in.”

“You sound sure of yourself,” she teased.

“Yes.”  He kissed her nose, and then winced.  “But not that sure, so please put me out of the misery of this budding anxiety attack.  Will you move in with me?”

This time she kissed him, a generous, open-mouthed kiss that took a little time to wind down.  Belle pulled back, smiling up at him.

“I’d love to,” she whispered.  “But can you wait a few months?”

He blinked.

“Of course,” he said.  “We can wait as long as you like.  What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.  “It’s just - well, I went from my dad’s place to college, and then from college back to my dad’s, and if I come straight to you - well, I’d kind of like to prove I can make it on my own first, you know?”

“I understand,” he said gently.  “I’ll even help you decorate this place, if you like.”

“And risk getting paint on one of your suits?” she said, tutting.  Gold grinned.

“I was thinking we could wear painting overalls,” he said.  “Or just do it naked, that could be fun.”

“We could get a canvas and throw paint at each other and roll around on it,” she said.  “Create a background art piece for the next nude calendar you do.”

She giggled as he tickled her, and kissed him again.

“I love you,” she whispered.  “I really do.”

“Well, I love you too,” he said.  “How long are you gonna make me wait?”

“Hmm…” She pursed her lips.  “Let’s say first of May.  That seems an excellent time, wouldn’t you agree?”

He smiled, a sudden flash of sadness in his eyes.

“Neal’s birthday,” he whispered, and Belle bit her lip.

“Oh,” she said.  “Oh, I didn’t realise.  Well, we can pick another day, if you—”

“No,” he said quickly.  “No, it’s perfect.  The two best things in my life, coming to me on the same date.  It’s perfect.”

He kissed her again, lips gently pulling at hers, and Belle thought as though she would burst with happiness.  She settled back against the cushions with a sigh, reaching up to cup his face with her palm.

“So, this is it,” she said.  “The doctor and the librarian, making a life together.”

“Against all the odds,” he added.  “The misunderstandings, the insecurities…”

“The doctor putting his foot firmly in his mouth every five minutes…”

“We got there in the end,” she said.  “And I love you.”

“Yes.”  He kissed her nose.  “And I love you too.”

She reached up, lips finding his, gently pushing them apart so that her tongue could slide inside.  Gold rolled onto his side, his arms going around her and hugging her close as the candles sent out their flickering light into the dark of the library.

[lowesthings]

Things About Shopping at Lowe’s

You Can Usually Haggle Successfully at a Lower Cost

The Lowe’s group has wide scope at offering lower costs to clients who need to wrangle, particularly on open-box or harmed box stock, marginally harmed items, and floor models. Check rack labels first, at that point corral one of the close-by red-vested Lowe’s representatives to check whether you can get a lower cost. Begin at 20%. Consult from that point, if vital.

At Lowe’s, some floor models are now set apart for rebate to account for fresher lines. Other floor models aren’t set apart for markdown, yet you may in any case get one on the off chance that you inquire.

Huge Appliances

On this score, most online arrangements specialists concur: They like Lowe’s, particularly for buys of floor models or packaged items, for example, washers and dryers or kitchen groupings.

Real retailers regularly show signs of improvement bargains from real makers since they purchase in mass. At that point they pass those investment funds on to clients. Lowe’s is no special case.

I wish I had thought about this two or three years prior, when we redesigned our kitchen with another suite of GE Profile hardened steel apparatuses—a cooler, a dishwasher, a stove and an implicit microwave. We got a decent arrangement at a top of the line provincial apparatus store chain (which, coincidentally, gets approval of Consumer Reports, which says the arrangements are better at nearby and territorial enormous machine vendors). However, we may have shown signs of improvement bargain at Lowe’s, says Brent Shelton, of the arrangements site FatWallet.

For instance, Lowe’s is as of now offering refunds of $400 to $1,200 on at least four qualifying GE Profile machines or select other GE apparatuses. You can apply for that discount check at Lowes.com’s “current refunds” page.

Cleaning Supplies

Did you ever meander down the walkway of a major box retail location highlighting family unit cleaning supplies and marvel: Am I missing something? Are these costs extremely that great?

At Lowe’s, yes—they’re superior to at Target, as I found in late January, when on task for Kiplinger.com, I explored 15 arbitrarily picked regular family unit cleaning supplies. Note: These were full costs and didn’t mirror any deals or producers’ coupons, which Target acknowledges. Now and again, bundling sizes were extraordinary, so we thought about per-unit costs.

For nine of the 15 things, Lowe’s costs were lower; typically not by much, however a penny spared is a penny earned. A few models: A 24-pack of Duracell AA batteries sold for $14.67 (or 61 pennies for every battery) at Lowe’s, versus 70 pennies for every battery for a 20-pack at Target. Then again, Target scored by selling Dawn 34.2-liquid ounce dishwashing fluid for $4.09, while Lowe’s was selling it for $4.78.

Anything You Can Buy Like a Contractor

ou don’t should be a contractual worker to get proficient costs at Lowe’s. I spared a pack when I chose to supplant all the electrical outlets and divider light switches on the primary degree of my home. (The old ones had been covered up by a past property holder. Yuck.)

Regularly, a DIYer may go to Lowe’s to purchase only one switch or outlet. I required 13, and I began off with a “temporary worker”- estimate mass pack of 10 Legrand 15-amp, 125-volt outlets for $10, sparing 16% over what I would have paid in the event that I’d bought them separately.

Different models: I have a relative who possesses a lakefront regular home he and his family have been updating utilizing their own work. Using contractual worker costs at Lowe’s, they could include protection and rooftop shingles at critical investment funds. A heap of Owen Corning AtticCat R60 pink blown-in protection sells for $33.98. Be that as it may, purchase 30 and the contractual worker value per pack plunges to $23.79, sparing $305.70 over the ordinary cost (and you can obtain the machine used to blow in the protection at no extra expense). Likewise: Bundles of Timberline HD Weathered Wood rooftop shingles sell for $32. The contractual worker cost is $25.60 per group, with at least 36 packs. The reserve funds is $230.40.

Other temporary worker pack things incorporate mass buys of heater channels, painting supplies, lights and then some. Search for the yellow rack tag expressing contractual worker costs in mass. Reserve funds are set apart on that sticker also.

“I get expert limits constantly,” says Saeed Darabi, of the cash sparing site MoneyPantry. How? He requests them at the Pro Desk close to the checkout in the wood territory, where most temporary workers pay and burden up. Investment funds can be 10%-20%.

Shopping at Lowes.com

Arrangements specialists say all that needs to be said to check the retailer’s site before you go out. Or then again you can discover day by day bargains by following @lowes on Twitter. I like the Lowe’s “reserve funds” website page. For instance, it as of late included 41% off a Sharp treated steel ledge microwave, at a bargain for $99, cut from $169.

The site will even let you know whether the product is accessible at your closest or most loved Lowe’s (for my situation, there were two microwaves; the site even revealed to me where they were in the store: Aisle 33, Bay 1).

I completed a correlation. The cost for a similar microwave, best case scenario Buy was $170.

While you’re in the store, check online costs on your cell phone. Do you see a lower cost for a specific thing on Lowe’s site? No stresses. The store will coordinate the Lowe’s site cost.

[europeanguy]

Gotta Gogh [Part 2: Apple Water Is Not A Real Drink]

Pairing: Nadia x Maxwell

Words: 3,138

Tags: Canon Divergence, Crossovers, Curse words probably, The Riot Club!AU sort of, Loss

Neville pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a sigh. It was dark outside, Leo left three hours ago, and they have emptied a bottle of 18-year old Macallan whiskey (it was 70% Leo’s – he drank straight from the bottle). Maxwell didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just simply recruit their friends. Every member of the club had to be handpicked by Neville, approved by Leo, be a noble, or at least be as rich.

“Max, I’m asking you – not as president of the club, but as your friend. Are you sure you can’t do anything about Liam?”

“I told you, several times Neville. He doesn’t like clubs – especially ours. You know how he is –“

Maxwell did ask Liam, but nothing could sway this person’s principles. Not even an offer to get him a life-time supply of baklava. Or buying him a peacock (which he definitely did NOT like. Said peacock now resides at the Ramsford Estate’s menagerie. No returns or refunds.)

“But Leo was president!” Neville looked like he was ready to tear his hair out of his scalp.

Although, it wasn’t just the general debauchery that they got up to that “bothered” Liam – it was Neville himself. And to be completely honest, Maxwell started seeing it too. But he’s not about to tell him that.

“And that’s exactly why he doesn’t want it.” Maxwell stands up and gathers his coat. He slings his UofC scarf around his neck. “Now, until you actually want to talk to me about club stuff, and not His Royal Highness, I’m leaving.”

 As he goes down the winding staircase to the main museum wing, Maxwell passes a portrait of Prince Leo Rys, King of Hedonists, probably the worst ex-president in the hall of fame. Maxwell was only familiar of the “dinners” he threw for the club through stories by past members – it made Neville’s parties look stale. His own older brother, Bertrand, was Leo’s right hand during their time. But after their parents died it was hard to imagine Bertrand doing any sort of activity that a normal person would consider fun.

Maxwell doesn’t see where he’s going as he turns a corner to the archway, and he runs into someone. “Otis! shit, sorry,”

 Oh. It’s not Otis.

 The girl hurriedly straightens up, backing away a few steps. She looks worried, and Maxwell cuts her off before she could apologize. It would’ve been the second time today. “Wait, you’re not Otis. What are you doing here?”

He notices her fidgeting, absent-mindedly picking at her nails. However, she notices it too and immediately stops, and hides both hands behind her back instead. “I’m Nadia,” she smiles. It’s small, but even that he notices. “I work here part-time… uh… sir..?”

“Sir? No, just Maxwell.” Maxwell could feel the corners of his mouth turning up. Technically it was Lord but he was already douche-y enough during their first ‘encounter’. “So, what do you do…for the rest of the time?” Witty, Max. Fucking cool it.

“I’m an exchange student actually, Fine Arts.” Nadia says proudly. “Um, Otis actually left early, if you’re looking for him?”

Maxwell shakes his head. “No, no – I was just leaving. So, Otis left early? What happened to him?” Some nights club meetings go until eleven, and the old man would still be at the museum. Sometimes Maxwell wonders if Otis was actually a real person – not just some grumpy museum spirit who likes to clean and give tourists dirty looks if they get a little too close to the art.

“I may have convinced him to go home,” Nadia smiles and starts walking, Maxwell catches up to walk beside her. “I found out that he collects sketches, doodles, stuff like that – so I promised him one if he went home before dinner today.”

“He talked to you??” Maxwell asks in disbelief. He tried befriending the guy, but he was as cold as ice. The one time Otis did sort of interact with him was three years ago.

Maxwell has stayed over in the museum before – in their club’s office in the upstairs left wing. The office had been there since this very building was built. The whole construction paid for, of course, by one of the esteemed members in 1645. He was nineteen and drunk out of his wits – the night of his parents’ funeral. He collapsed onto one of the leather chesterfield sofas and yet he didn’t sleep a blink. The next morning Bertrand came running in with Otis, his brother looking gaunt and haggard – like he aged ten years. He hugged Maxwell and for once Maxwell had openly sobbed onto his brother’s jacket until there was no more.

Otis left to give them privacy, and when he returned he had coffee for them both. Bertrand thanked the old man, and patted him on the back as they left for home – to Ramsford – forced to face a home without their mother’s infectious laughter.

 “Hey, you okay? I didn’t know you wanted to befriend Otis that much.” Nadia jokes, quickly glancing at him to gauge his reaction. Maxwell gives her a reassuring smile. How could he not, when looking at a face like that?

“He likes drawings huh? I’m not very good,” Maxwell confesses. “I think I’ll need lessons.” It was his turn to check her reaction. He has had painting lessons (among others) as a child – his father knew all the tricks to make him and Bertrand look effortlessly accomplished. To keep up appearances. But Maxwell was always the one who would ditch those lessons to go play somewhere else. Sometimes Bertrand would join, and their mother would find them both muddy, their leather shoes and the hems of their shorts soaked with water from the estate’s lake. But she only shook her head, smiling, as she led them back to the house to clean up.

“Well… this is a once in a lifetime offer but, if you’re here tomorrow I can give you one.” Nadia shrugs like it was no big deal.

“Hm,” Maxwell was almost jumping at the thought, but he had to retain some semblance of a cool image. “We’ll see.”

  The next day after his last class, Maxwell finds his feet taking him to the museum, walking a little faster than normal. He knew he must’ve looked like a manic high on caffeine, but he didn’t care. He ran into Tariq, spilling coffee into his jacket.

“This is new!” Tariq yelled after him but Maxwell escaped with excuses of promising to pay for it as he backs away. He doesn’t hear Neville whispering to Tariq about “some American on a scholarship”, he can only see Nadia’s face. His fast walking pace turns to a jog – to a full-on sprint – when he sees the museum.

Nadia looks up from the front desk when Maxwell awkwardly (and quite dramatically) bursts through the doors.

“….Hi,” He breathes, taking in Nadia’s appearance. She smiles, but its tight, forced. Only does Maxwell notice the smooth classical music filling the room. “Bach?”

Her smile widens, more genuine this time. “Jon Liefs. How did you even mix that up?”

“Yeah, I-I don’t know anything about classical music. Believe it or not.” Maxwell only paid attention to music he could dance to. Slow dancing doesn’t count.

Nadia nods, humoring Maxwell. “Hey, so I promised you drawing lessons?” She clears her throat, then fruitlessly arranges papers on her messy desk.

This was his chance. “Actually… I was thinking we could go on an adventure?” He sounded more like he was asking a question than asking her out. Like a normal person.

Nadia sighs. “I don’t know. I’m kind of in trouble right now.”

Maxwell’s heart sinks to his stomach. “Trouble? What happened?”

“A professor yelled at me earlier because I couldn’t answer his question,” Nadia frowns. “I spent so much time studying up on paintings that I actually don’t know anything about Cordonia itself!”

Oh.

“My offer still stands...” Maxwell shrugs. “Let’s turn that trip into an educational one! Consider it a tutoring session, courtesy of a true local.”

Nadia narrows her eyes at him. “Where are we going? How should I know you’re not gonna kill me out of school premises?”

Maxwell’s jaw drops. “…did you just ask me that? Me? Look at this innocent face.” He pauses for effect. “See? I won’t hurt you.”

“Make sure of it.” Nadia meets his eyes as she quickly scribbles a number on a piece of paper. “I get off at five.”

Maxwell takes her number – it feels electric inside his fist. Or maybe his nerves are just going off. He shoves it inside his pocket as to not smudge the ink. “Right. I’ll see you later.” Two hours.

When Maxwell turns to walk away, he notices Otis standing to the side, giving the two of them a weird look.

“Hey, Otis.” He waves as he exits the museum.

 “…hey.”

  “Where are you even taking me?” Nadia walked beside him. It strangely felt natural, walking with Nadia along Cordonia’s capital city – cobblestone roads, traditional architecture, greenery growing wherever it allowed – and yet Maxwell wanted to shoot out of his shoes and into the sky. Calm down. A man was playing his guitar in a familiar tune, well, familiar to him. Nadia looked like she belonged in this beautiful place. He couldn’t help but smile at her and the sunshine she radiated – even when the sun has set.

“I was going to take you horseback riding but you’re wearing a dress… and I’m a gentleman.” Maxwell grins down at her, and Nadia scoffs at him.

“Horses?! You could’ve told me and I would’ve worn pants!” Nadia slaps him on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Oh, you baby. It wasn’t that hard… was it?” Nadia looks at him. “I took self-defense classes before, and I’ve been told to practice controlling my strength.”

Maxwell shrugs. “Dunno, I might need a kiss to make it better?”

Nadia stops walking and Maxwell looks back at her. “You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?” She shakes her head.

“Is it working though?” Maxwell flashes her a hopeful look.

“….no.” And with a smile, Nadia walks past him. She’s taking large steps, dodging a few people – some looking at Maxwell and then back at Nadia with that look on their faces.

“Wait up! You don’t even know where we’re going!” Maxwell weaves through the small crowd.

Nadia yells back, “I’m just following the smell of food!”

 They end up inside a hole-in-the-wall café, a place that he has never entered in 21 years. The space was narrow, the brick walls were lined with old photographs, and the smell of freshly baked pastries. It was… as Bertrand would describe it… cozy ­– not without that judgmental look in his eyes.

“Why is it that you look like a lost puppy in your own country?” Nadia is sitting across from him.

“What? I’m just taking it all in…” Maxwell looks around, his eyes landing on her. “It’s um… very pretty.”

Maxwell clears his throat. “Anyway, how do you feel about breakfast for dinner? It’s not a Cordonian thing, it’s just a Maxwell thing.” Nadia’s eyes light up.

“I’m all for it. Just no apples.”

“Wow, offended Cordonian citizen here. I can only drink apple water to survive.”

“That’s not a real drink.” Nadia laughs.

“We’ll talk about drinks later,” Maxwell narrows his eyes at Nadia. “This apple argument isn’t over.”

 He stands up, unsure. Right. So, no waiter. I just order in the counter – wait, do they accept credit cards?

“Do you need help, sir?” The guy behind the counter crosses his arms.

“Ah- yes, I’d like to order please.” The guy nods, finger poised to type in his cash register. Maxwell reads the menu, and looks back at Nadia. She gives him a thumbs up. “Two err- madame cristos-”

He manages to order without blundering and asking for apple water or “your most expensive champagne, preferably from the vineyards of Ramsford – a bottle of the L’ Dame Gold 1995 is best.”

“That will be 16 euros.” He finishes punching the order in, and his assistant, a girl no more than twelve (his daughter, probably) starts to fry up some eggs expertly in a griddle.

Maxwell hands him his credit card. He looks down on it, and hands it back. “Um, we only accept cash…”

Maxwell looks up at a sign above the counter. Cash only painted in big bold letters. Shit shit shit.

He sheepishly hands the man a 500 Cordonian-Euro note.

“Do you have a smaller amount, sir?” The guy looks confused now. “Or I could just run over to the next store to get you some change-“

“No, no! Please just keep it.” Maxwell could feel his embarrassment creeping up like the blood rushing to his ears. Note to self: keep smaller bills in wallet for next time.

The man argues, but Maxwell wouldn’t have it. Even he knows it’s ridiculous. Their hushed back and forth leads to an agreement on him coming back and getting “free” food until his balance runs out. Damn, all that arguing in his philosophy classes really came through.

 Maxwell comes back to their table now with a tray of food plus a complementary dessert – their house special apple tarts.

“He gave it for free, couldn’t resist my charms.” Maxwell explains as he sits down, feeling more exhausted than after a jousting game with Leo. “What were we talking about?”

“Fancy apple infused water… drinks?” Nadia muses as she slices the egg on top of her madame cristo, breaking the perfect yolk.

“Right, you told me apple water isn’t a real drink, so we’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” Maxwell starts on his own sandwich. “However, I do have a non-apple drink that I invented and it’s amazing.”

“No apples? Tell me more.” Nadia takes a bite, her eyes widening. “Wow, this is… wow.”

“I know right?!” Maxwell grins proudly at her. “And I was getting to that, I actually need some name suggestions. It’s pineapple flavored, and it’s so good but super deadly.”

“Poisonous?” Nadia cocks an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued.”

“You could say that. My friend Tariq loved it so much – he failed an important test the next day and had to retake that class.” They all failed except for Liam, but he decided to leave that part out.

“Pineapple Paradise Punch.” Nadia says with a flourish of her fork. “It’s pineapple, you drink it and feel like you’re in paradise, and then it punches you in the gut the next day.”

“I don’t have to credit you every time I tell people about it, right?”

“You do! Every single time. Even if I’m not there. Nadia Park, famous painter and expert drink… namer. That could be a thing.”

Even if I’m not there.

Right.

“How about I make it for you whenever you want instead?”

Oh, god. No. No. Too forward. She’s not gonna stay in Cordonia forever.

Nadia simply smiles. “You’ll make it for me sometime this week. That’s a deal.”

 It always got a little cold at night in Cordonia. After the cafe, Maxwell leads Nadia through streets that he doesn’t have memorized, but they were familiar enough. The crowd outside is starting to thin, a handful of tourists watching a saxophone solo being played. He doesn’t mind that he’s holding Nadia’s hand now as he practically drags the both of them toward the sound.

“Have I told you I’m a dancing king?” Maxwell grins at Nadia before tossing whatever bill he got first from his wallet inside the saxophone case laid out (he stupidly doesn’t carry change). The saxophonist’s eyes widen at the amount, but continues playing.

Maxwell holds his hand out to Nadia in the middle of the street, no cars, just warmly lit windows and some tourists – they don’t even matter. He half-expects Nadia to hesitate, but she immediately takes his hand and stands before him, matching his position.

“Dancing king? Let’s see then.” Nadia looks up at him, and rests one hand on his shoulder – the other in his hand.

He doesn’t see people looking in either adoration or judgement, he sees Nadia, and he hears the saxophone – like the music was being injected into his nerves. Maxwell easily leads her, surprisingly very light on her feet. He keeps his movement fluid and to the rhythm, raising the hand holding Nadia’s to cue her to do a spin. She does, laughing as she turns away from him and then their eyes meet again. Only for a second, because Maxwell surprises her by doing a spin of his own – quite the struggle considering his height but it only earns a laugh from the both of them. They stopped dancing, but the world is still spinning.

Maxwell wanted to kiss her as much as he needed to breathe.

 Instead he drops his eyes and looks away.

“I think I need to see more dancing. Verdict’s still out.” Why did Nadia always know what to say? Maxwell plucks the courage to meet her eyes again but Nadia is simply watching the musician now, looking peaceful.

He sighs. “I don’t think you’re ready for b-boy Maxwell. It’s a lot to handle.”

She looks up at him. “You’ll find that I’m very…strong-willed? Prepared?” Nadia shrugs. “I can handle anything.” True, Maxwell thought. He wouldn’t know what to do if Bertrand had shipped him off to Oxford for one semester.

“I want you to meet my friends.” Maxwell blurts out.

Nadia laughs easily. “Wow, way to change the subject. Okay, why?”

“…Because you can tell a lot about a person by their friends. And we’re trying to get to know one another right?”

“I thought I was here to get to know Cordonia but… okay.” Nadia jokes. “So, are you saying that you carry hair gel and a comb wherever you go too?”

Maxwell snorts. Oh, Bertrand would have an aneurysm if he heard. “Are you talking about Neville?”

“Yeah…? That other friend you were with yesterday?”

Maxwell laughs. “No, I meant my real friends. Liam and Drake.”

“Just those two?”

“Only the ones who really matter.” He looks at her. “Liam is the most responsible and kind person I know. Got tons of girls after him, but he insists that his heart is only for Cordonia – so yes, he’s a dork. Drake, well, a little cold at first – but he’s a simple guy. Talk to him about fishing or camping and you guys will be automatic friends.”

“They sound like lovely guys.” But he could hear the slight hesitation in her voice. “Okay, let’s all hang out. Soon.” Maxwell releases a breath that he didn’t realize he’s been holding.

“How about this weekend? A few of us are planning on a little gathering…” Maxwell cocks an eyebrow at her. “It involves horses…”

“I’M IN.”

to be continued

FUN FACTS these facts are the best part only fools don’t read these

Lord and Lady Beaumont:

- In canon I’m pretty sure they died when Max and Bertrand were pretty young. But in this one, they died in 2008 (story takes place in 2011) so basically three years ago. Maxwell would have been 19 and Bertrand 24-25. It’s still pretty fresh.

- The orphaned Beaumonts don’t go broke in my universe. That’s just sad.

The Club:

- Leo and Bertrand ruled the club six years before Neville and Max. There was a group in between generations, but we don’t talk about them lmao.

- Leo still likes to keep tabs on the club even after he and Bertrand graduated from UofC.

- Members are mostly the nobility, rarely royalty, special cases of new money, and absolutely no commoners.

Just Noble Things:

- Leo had the idea to bring jousting into club activities. Neville loves them because he can take out his aggression – and hate for poor people. While watching, Liam convinced Drake to try it out once, and that was the last time Neville played. (He wasn’t severely injured physically, but his ego was thanks to a certain pants-ripping incident as he was sent flying off his horse.)

Cuisine:

- I HC that Cordonian cuisine is like a fusion of many others – with their own twist of course. Based from pictures, it seems that the geography and climate vary a lot, but the capital is near the sea. It has a Mediterranean vibe so that’s it, short answer: Cordonia has Mediterranean cuisine. Long answer: each duchy would specialize in different dishes. Portavira is near the sea, so seafood. Castelsarreillan is famous for their vineyards, but I’m imagining that they use olive oil, yoghurt marinades, complex spices, veggies, stuff like that – for entrees (simply because it looks like they have a lot of farmland). Olivia has mentioned before that she only likes her animals on a plate, so idk that just gave me a vibe that Lythikos is all about meat, deep and rich flavors that kind of contrast the cold all around. And of course, there are apple-themed dishes everywhere. Bottomline: I think about food a lot.

- Madame Cristos are a THING and yes, they are fucking delicious. It’s a cross between Croque Madame and a Monte Cristo. Here’s the recipe.

Currency:

- I wasn’t sure which currency Cordonia uses in canon. I read a “Krona” before but I’m pretty sure that’s a duchy (Madeleine’s fam). So, I just used “CDE” – meaning Cordonian Euros. It makes sense to me.

Dance, dance, dance:

- For the dancing scene with the sax solo, I was thinking more slow, sweet, “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” instrumental cover vibes rather than sexy “Careless Whisper” lmao

- This dancing scene is a nod to Miss Saigon’s “Last Night of the World” because I just fucking love Lea Salonga okay LISTEN TO IT FOR THE FEELS