#and if you even breathed in ao3 or fanfictions direction in a conversation she would explode

[makersbreathchild]

walk with me tho bellara is definitely a secret freak. a pervert if you will. i swear on the maker himself if she had a tumblr you’d find the nastiest and gayest shit on there. she is a staple in the kink community and also just constantly horny posting on main. do i even wanna talk about her ao3??? do i??? she’d absolutely DOMINATE the f/f and explicit tags of any and all fandoms she’s in idc lalalalal.

[plutoccult]

ALWAYS THE ARTIST, NEVER THE MUSE

pairing: eren yeager x gender neutral reader

description: you know you shouldn’t have let yourself fall for eren, but you did anyway, and it only left you with nothing but hurt when you knew his heart belonged to another. after months of torture, you finally have the strength to let go, granting you the happiness you so desperately needed back in your life.

word count: 1.7k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: happy december? no, angsty december. this particular one shot is a little personal for me because it’s based off a final conversation i had with someone who i essentially let have hold of my heart for far too long and finally had the strength to let go of them a few months ago. he’s like jake gyllenhaal minus the age gap. i say this because he gave me the ability to relate to the moment i knew aka not being there for my 21st birthday! insane! i did however make it less personal by giving it some how i met your mother vibes, but there’s still inklings of my personal life in it. writing helps me heal and express my feelings in a way that i’m comfortable with, so i feel good writing this as part of my healing journey? corny to use fanfiction for healing, but to each their own. sorry if this is too angsty, but imagine how my life has been LMAO. anyway, big shoutout to my friend @toorubobatea for beta reading this. i really wanted her to read it before i posted it, so thank you queen!! and now i hope you guys can enjoy it just like she did! mwah! and i’m tagging @jeanboyjean since she so kindly asked me to <3

you knew that the day you met eren yeager, your life would never be the same, but my god, did it your life turn upside down. pulled in so many different directions you couldn’t tell what was left or right anymore. you felt like you were losing yourself in the process, but you wanted more of him like you wanted to breathe air.

it was always a mistake. one beautiful, soul-crushing mistake. he’d lead you on with mixed signals and uncertainty, but you lived for the thrill because it was the only interesting thing going on in your life. it’s “for the plot”, as you’d always say. even if your friends told you a million times he was bad news and you would only get hurt in the end, you didn’t care.

he was just your friend, that’s what you two always claimed; just friends, but you always sensed a hint of a lie in those words. you couldn’t be just friends. not when he remembered everything you said down to what you had for lunch last week or that time your mother fainted as she watched you get stitches for the first time as a kid. not when he spoke to you everyday like clockwork, a routine that seemed to come easy. how could you ever be just friends? how could it not be more?

you were inevitably in love with eren yeager, and it crushed you when you realized he never once had those feelings for you. not only that, but he was in love with someone else; mikasa ackerman, his best friend since childhood. it all made perfect sense, and you wished you never met him in the first place. but even then, you couldn’t keep yourself away from him. as long as he didn’t know of your feelings, everything would be fine, right? oh, how you were so, so wrong.

you tortured yourself every time you spoke to him. you listened to him as he pined for mikasa, too scared to admit his feelings to her. of course you knew what it was like to be in that position, the one you wanted was sitting right in front of you and he didn’t seem to have a clue. it frustrated you so much, but even so, you’d rather have something instead of nothing with him. such a sad way to feel, such a sad way to live when you think about it now. always the artist, never the muse. constantly crafting for others, nothing ever created just for you.

you’d push those feelings deep down into the darkest pit of your heart, but no matter how hard you tried, it would all come back every time you saw his face or even thought of him. those thoughts of maybe if you were prettier, funnier, and just overall better plagued your mind, but you had to shake them away. one day, you knew, you’d ultimately become fed up and blow up about it. it was the only way you knew how, the only way you could be free.

so now here you were, sitting at your usual booth in your favorite bar—assuming it may no longer be yours after tonight—waiting for eren to arrive so you could talk. you assumed he could sense your seriousness and urgency when you texted him, but you figured so be it. one way or another, you’d do this.

he arrived like you expected. you refused to let him make you second guess yourself, so you kept your cool and acted as normal before you dropped the bomb on him. besides, the shot you took before he showed up was quite the help, plus the drink you swirled around in its glass now.

eren walked over to the bar to grab a drink before heading over to the booth, expecting you to stand up and greet him with a hug like always, but you remained in your seat, clutching your drink in your hands.

“hey, i got your text.” he said as he sat down across from you.

“i see that.” you reply. he noticed you were acting different, not like the y/n he knew. it was obvious you had something on your mind, and since he knew you so well, eren could sense you were going to spill your guts about something.

“what’s up? is something wrong?” eren asked. this was it.

“i just.” you pause. oh god, you were really doing this. “i just wanted to say that i’m done with whatever this is.”

he’s silent, he doesn’t know what to say. you feel like the words are all coming out like vomit. you almost wish you were spewing real vomit right now, but you weren’t quite drunk enough for that. you had to get through this hellish conversation first, at least.

“i’m done. i’m not going to make a fool out of myself anymore. i’m done trying. i’m giving up.” you say, tears threatening to stream down your face, but you fight them away. “i’m done exhausting myself of trying to be something i’ll never be because deep down i know i’ll never be yours.”

eren should’ve seen this coming. all those times you fell silent when he ranted to you about his love problems. you always wanted to scream in his face about how the one person in this world that actually wanted him was always right there, that it was you. even so, he could never give you what you wanted, and he felt like the worst person in the world because of it.

you wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t say anything. if this was going to be your final conversation, he might as well say something. “well, speak now or forever hold your peace because i’m clearly not holding mine.”

“i mean, it’s just not what i was expecting to hear.” eren finally spoke. “i’m just shocked.”

“trust me, i never expected to say it either, but if i’ve learned anything, it’s that i care too much.” you tearfully admit. “too much about you when i know where your heart belongs and it’s not with me.”

“i’m sorry, y/n. i never meant for things to get like this.” he said with sincerity, although you wondered if it was all a lie. “and you must know that there was never any hostile intentions behind any of my actions.”

“that’s funny. it always seemed like there was.” you looked down at your drink, quickly moving your gaze back to him as he spoke once more.

“no, you…” eren paused, trying to put the words together in the best way he could. even if he didn’t seem like it, he did care someway, somehow. “you’ve been there for me when i needed someone most and i’m really, really grateful for that, but i can’t give you what you want, and i’ve been unfair to you as a result. i’m sorry.”

huh. this really wasn’t what you were expecting. where’s the insults? where’s the twisting of your words? why is he actually being apologetic and taking accountability? you wanted to say this was crazy, but this is eren you’re talking about. you always knew he was too good. too good to ever be yours, even.

“you know, this is usually the part where you flip out and make it all my fault instead by calling me delusional and crazy.” you force a laugh. might as well laugh through the pain, right?

“i’m not gonna flip out.” eren said.

“why?” you question him.

“because i know i’ve done wrong by you.” he replied.

“well, that’s a shock.” you take a sip of your drink, tempted to chug it, but eren’s words shocked you into stopping the liquid from going past your lips.

“it shouldn’t have to be, y/n.” he frowned. “you deserve someone who won’t weigh you down. you deserve to move on, even if it’s not flattering for me.”

you set down your drink as you let out a sigh and briefly cover your face, rubbing your eyes before showing yourself once more. “i hate that you’re being so nice about this. i was expecting to yell at you or something.”

“do you want to?” eren asked you.

as much as past you would have loved to, you didn’t have the energy to be bitter anymore. “no… i’m okay. this is better.”

“you sure?”

“yeah, positive.” you say, followed by silence. there wasn’t much for you to say anymore, and you couldn’t beat on this dead horse any longer. it was time to finally say goodbye, no matter how much it pained you to do so. “um, i guess we should just end this here, huh?”

“yeah, guess so.” he looked away. this hurt eren too, but you both knew this was for the best. you’ll be thankful later down the road.

“would it be totally wrong to sneak in a taylor swift quote right now?” you ask, almost immediately regretting the question.

“no, go for it.”

“eh, maybe not. too corny.” you thought it would be best to keep those words to yourself. besides, it was too hard to pin it down to just one thing. he was worth a hundred songs, ones you may never listen to the same way, but that’s okay.

“she’s a wise, wise woman, you know.” eren said, a grin slowly creeping up on his face, despite the circumstances.

“yeah, she is.” you softly smile. at least you could end this on a little good note.

“goodbye, y/n. i wish you the best in everything.”

“goodbye, eren. i really hope you get her someday.”

and with that, you placed a twenty dollar bill on the table and left the bar, no longer claiming it as your favorite and leaving it to eren, along with your favorite place to sit. like with everything else in life, nothing lasts forever, nothing stays the same, and that’s okay. you knew that now.

it was such a strange feeling, having this weight lifted off your shoulders. you had been burdened with this boulder for so long you forgot what it felt like to be weightless. you were finally clean of eren yeager, light as a feather, but most importantly, happy, and freeing yourself of such delusions was the greatest gift you could ever receive.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[q-gorgeous]

The Fenton-Feel Giver

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1579

This time, instead of making a weapon to hurt ghosts, the Fentons make a weapon that allows them to “get their feelings back”. Problem is, they already have them, so what happens when you take an already emotional ghost teen and amplify it by 10? @Amabsis

rararararararararara

Danny sat at the kitchen table, tiredly eating cereal while Jazz read a book next to him as she ate her eggs. He held his head in his left hand and he was about to nod off when his parents erupted from the door to the lab. 

“Hey, kids! Come look at what we just finished!” His dad bellowed. Danny jumped at the loud sound of his voice. 

“It’s too early for this.” He groaned as he and Jazz forcefully followed their parents downstairs into the lab.” 

“It’s our newest ghost hunting weapon!” Maddie smiled excitedly. 

Danny flinched as his dad brandished his new gun.

“This bad boy will give all these apathetic ectoplasmic post human copies all of their feelings back! They’ll never know what hit them!” 

“Dad, how do you really know that ghosts don’t have feelings?” Jazz asked him, looking between Danny and their dad. “You’ve never had a conversation with a ghost. How can you say you know how their minds work?” 

“How can any ghost have feelings when they’re terrorizing the city all the time? Surely if they had feelings they would think about their actions and how it might be affecting the people around them.” Maddie said.

“Now you’re just putting your prejudice on them!” Jazz planted her hands on her hips. “Not all ghosts go around terrorizing the city all the time!”

“Also the ghosts just think it’s fun. They don’t care how we feel, even with feelings.”

The three of them looked over at Danny. His eyes widened when he realized they heard his comment. 

“See who terrorizes a city for fun?”

“That still doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings!” 

Danny rolled his eyes and stood up. This was ridiculous. He didn’t need to sit here and listen to his family argue about something that he knew was false. 

“Danny-boy! Where are you going? I haven’t even demonstrated it yet!”

He turned around to face his dad. “I gotta go. I have to-”

He gasped out a breath of cold air. And he inwardly groaned.

“Have to, to- go to the library and check out a book I forgot I needed! It’s about a project on Patrocolos!”

“You’re still learning about that guy?” Jack frowned. 

“Long unit.” Danny said as he backed up. “Very important to a lot of different cultures. What a guy.”

“Be back before curfew!” His mom called to him and he turned and dashed his way up the stairs. 

When he hit the top he transformed and flew through the roof and scanned the streets around him. Where was the ghost? 

“I am the Box Ghost!” 

Danny closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning.

“Tremble before me and my boxes of doOoom!” 

Danny flew in the direction that the Box Ghost’s voice was coming from. He came into view and he had a swarm of boxes flying around him.

“Hey, Boxy!” 

The Box Ghost turned around to face him. “Ah, Phantom! I see you’ve heard my war call! You will face my wrath and get boxed!” 

Danny scoffed. “As if. Your wrath is about a centimeter long.” 

“You will regret your words, young halfling! My boxes will leave deep cardboard cuts all over your skin! I will-” 

Danny sucked the Box Ghost into the thermos as he was talking. He yelled as he got sucked in and the sound was cut off when the beam disappeared. Danny capped the thermos as all the boxes fell into the street. 

He heard the screeching of tires below him and looked down. His parent’s van plowed to a stop and they were jumping out. 

“There he is, Jack!” His mom pointed at where he floated up in the sky. 

“This is the perfect time to test our new weapon, Maddie!” 

Danny’s eyes widened. Considering ghosts really did actually have feelings, Danny didn’t know what it would do to him. He didn’t think he wanted to find out either. 

They started shooting at him. His dad had the new weapon they showed off at breakfast this morning. His mom had what looked like a regular ectogun. 

He dodged as many blasts as he could, but they just kept coming. One flew past him and sent him spinning. He went back right side up but it was too late.

“Haha! Taste the Fenton Feel-giver!” 

Danny didn’t have enough time to jump and dodge the blast that his dad shot at him. He put his hands up to block his face when the blast made contact. It sent him hurtling towards the ground. The blast itself didn’t hurt nearly as much as he was expecting but his collision with the ground did and he peeked out from behind his arms to see his dad barely containing his excitement. 

Then his mom walked towards him, brandishing her Fenton bazooka and Danny’s heart started racing.

He covered his head and cowered away from her. 

“Don’t hurt me, Mom!” He shouted. 

“Mom?” Maddie exclaimed. 

“I promise I’m not a monster! Don’t hurt me!” 

Danny scurried backwards away from her. What was happening to him? His heart was racing and he was starting to hyperventilate. 

Maddie lowered her weapon, but she looked unsure about it. 

“Jack?” She turned to face him. 

“He looks just like a child.” Jack whispered. 

“Is he just a child?” Maddie asked him.

Danny looked up at his parents. He could tell by their faces that they weren’t expecting the consequences of actually seeing a ghost’s feelings. That they weren’t expecting him to be so human.

Maddie knelt down to be at eye level with him. She reached a hand forward and Danny fell back trying to get away from it.

“Don’t touch me!”

She pulled her hand back and looked at Jack. 

“Phantom, do you remember your human mother?”

He looked at her. How ironic was this. This was some cosmic irony here.

He wasn’t sure what he should do. So he just nodded. 

“Did she ever hurt you?”

Ectoblast burns. Bazooka blasts. Kicks to the stomach.

“Not on purpose. But she did.” 

Maddie’s felt settled into a sad expression. A tear ran down Danny’s cheek as they stared at each other. She reached towards him to wipe it off but he pulled back and jumped into the air.

“Don’t- don't touch me.”

“Phantom, would you like to come back to our lab with us? We could-” 

His heart rate continued to race and his chest rose and fell too quickly with each breath. Scalpels and dissection tables. Samples and tests and inventions and so many other terrifying things were down in that lab. He couldn’t- No. No no no. 

He felt his transformation rings appearing. He knew that if he was ever too hurt that he transformed back. If he passed out he’d transform back. He didn’t ever think he’d be too emotionally distressed that it would force him to transform back. He couldn’t. Not here. 

He pushed the rings back and they were gone for a moment but they just reappeared a second later.

“Jack, what are those rings? Have you ever seen anything like that before?” 

“No I haven’t. What kind of power could that be?”

He couldn’t keep the transformation rings back anymore. They traveled over his body and he watched as his parents confused expressions morphed into ones of horror. The ring passed over his head and he started falling towards the ground. 

“Danny?” His mom called in shock.

His dad ran forward and caught Danny in the air before he hit the ground. Danny scrambled to get out of his father’s arms and fell, hitting the ground. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Danny, how is this possible? How did this-”

“You can’t hurt me! Please!” 

Maddie faltered and took a step away from him. “We would never hurt you.”

Danny shook his head. “You wanted to. You always talk about how you want to hurt me so badly. About all the nasty horrible things you want to do to me.”

“But we never- if we’d known it was you, we would never have said those things.”

Danny looked her in the eyes. “Even if it wasn’t me, I’m still just a kid. It doesn’t matter if it’s me or not.”

Maddie and Jack looked at each other.

“We’ll make this right.” Jack said. “We’ll get you fixed up and-”

“No! You can’t take it! I don’t need to be fixed!”

“Take what?” Maddie asked.

“My core!” 

Maddie’s eyes opened wide. “You have a core?”

“You can’t have it.” 

Maddie shook her head. She looked like she wanted to reach out to him and touch him but she kept her hands firmly at her side where she knelt down. “We don’t want your core.”

“We need to reverse the effects that the Fenton Feel-giver had on you.”

“No experiments?” Danny asked. He looked back and forth between his parents. 

“No experiments.” Jack said.

Danny was still looking between the two of them. His heart rate was starting to slow. 

“You still love me?”

Danny could see the moment his mom’s heart broke. “Of course we do, sweetie.”

Tears welled up in Danny’s eyes and he held out a hand to his mom. She grabbed it and stood up, pulling him with her. 

“It’ll be okay. We’ll get you fixed up and then you can tell us how this all happened.” 

Danny nodded. He took a deep breath. “You still love me.” 

“More than life itself.”

[genericpuff]

Do you have any current voice claims for the Lore Olympus : Rekindled characters you've introduced so far?

Also, kinda just curious, you can ignore this one: Are you slightly worried about Rachel finding out you're reworking her story, seeing how she doesn't take criticism well?(genuine q)

LOVE your art work, btw!

Fun question, but unfortunately I don't really have any sort of neat answer to it. I don't tend to think in the realm of voice acting/live action when I think of the characters I write, it's just not really where my brain goes. When I read scripts internally to myself, they tend to just be default imaginary voices that I use. The technical sound of the voice itself isn't so much important to me as the line delivery and how they communicate (so like, 'voice' in the sense of writing rather than auditory). So like, how often do they pause, do they use lots of filler words, do they breathe heavily in between sentences, do they speak in short or long sentences, do they get to the point or speak in run-on sentences, do they speak eloquently with bigger words or do they prefer fast-paced conversation with slang, do they have a stutter or any other vocal block/impediment, do they approach conversations with cockiness or modesty, that sort of thing.

More often than not my inner voice when reading dialogue to myself just tends to be variations of my own voice lmao My brain doesn't have much imagination in that department unless I'm imagining a specific person from the very beginning (so if you ask me to imagine Will Smith's voice in my head while reading dialogue, yeah, I can do that just fine, but if you ask me to do it in reverse by assigning a specific person's voice to the characters I write, I'm just gonna draw a blank LMAO) The only other voice that pitches in on the reading process is my husband when he's doing dialogue exchanges with me (so basically I'll read a few lines of dialogue to him, which will turn into him going "lol imagine if it went like this..." which then turns into us doing casual improv, it makes for a great way to come up with organic conversation or re-write punchlines). But my husband's voice definitely doesn't pop into my head when I'm reading my dialogue to myself, again my brain just automatically defaults to my own mind voice.

If there's a specific actor you imagine when you read Rekindled, though, I'd love to hear it!

Regarding question #2, yes and no? I'm less worried about her (because legally there's nothing she can do about it, it's literally just fanfiction lol) and more worried about her fanbase, people call ULO toxic all the time and yet it's the fanbase who have historically done all the shitty things like doxxing people, witch-hunting, dogpiling, bullying, etc. so I'm basically just waiting for the day that I get a flurry of asks or hate directed my way and I can go "yep, they found out about Rekindled" LMAOOO

But on the other hand, it is just on Tumblr and it's not even really parodying LO, it's basically any other AU fic with the exception of it being in comic form. Like, if someone found an excuse to bully Rekindled on the basis of it just existing, it would be pretty hypocritical (and hilarious) when AO3 is full of LO AU's from people who detest what LO has become just as much as I do. As much as Rekindled was born out of criticism, the comic itself is still just its own thing, telling its own story, none of what's in it is meant to directly mock LO or even outright criticize it - it's just aiming to take things in a different direction than the one LO took, with the motivation of giving the fans who have dropped off LO due to its lowering quality some catharsis (and a new reason to look forward to Saturdays). I think the pettiest thing about Rekindled on its own is that it updates 15 minutes before LO does LMAO

Of course, all that stuff about Rekindled not generating hate will only last if I stick the landing. So far so good, but we'll see how it goes as it diverges further away from OG LO (mostly with the plot as it drops a lot of the things that seemed to be used as distractions especially in S2 onwards, and we're not even really tackling S3 because of how much of a mess it is; we're still very much in the 'prologue' section of it where a lot of it is closer to the OG version, but we'll start seeing more diversions as it goes on).

So, yeah, I am a little worried sometimes about the "what ifs", but it's not a constant fear that lives in my head rent-free. I was definitely more anxious about it when I started, but so far it's been great and I know ultimately that when people do act out in my inbox, often times they're just fundamentally misunderstanding what my intentions are or the fact that I'm not trying to make them hate LO or "dethrone Rachel" (though I do make jokes about that LOL) I'm just doing what many artists have done before me - expressing myself and doing something in my own way with the disappointment I've felt over the past year due to LO.

Frankly, I also don't think any of the problematic stans of LO are even on Tumblr. I find most of the toxicity so far has been on reddit and Facebook (°ー°〃) So I think Tumblr has made for a very safe platform to post it to. I think if it were on Webtoons it would ABSOLUTELY generate a lot more hate, there are other H x P comics that have nothing to do with LO that get harassed by the LO fans just because it exists and happens to be about H x P (as if Rachel herself invented the myth).

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfiction

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 107: January 1993

It’s cold and gloomy and it’s been raining off and on most of the day—most of the week really—so for a bit, Martin wasn’t sure this would actually happen. But Papa’s home and he promised they would do this when he got home, and Papa never, ever, ever breaks his promises, so they got up very early and went to the train station and bought their tickets and got on the train, and Papa even let Martin give their tickets to the conductor, and now here they are.

Martin has never been so far away from home before. Granddad takes him on trips sometimes—last year they went all the way to Norfolk to see the Queen, and Martin honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever see anything better than that—but this is a long, long way away. He didn’t actually press his hands and face against the glass of the train window because that sort of thing makes Mummy upset, and when she gets upset she gets one of her “bad spells”, and when she has a bad spell Martin has to be very, very quiet and take care of her, but he gripped the edge of the window sill excitedly and stared out the window at the ever-shifting scenery for the whole way down here. Papa sat beside him and pointed out all kinds of things to him, and Mummy napped, so maybe it would have been okay if he put his face against the window, but he didn’t. It’s the first time he’s ever seen London, too, even if they didn’t get out of the train there, and Papa says they’ll take a trip there the next time he’s home for Martin’s birthday, so that will be fun. He even answered all of Martin’s questions about why they didn’t have a steam train, and what the difference between steam and diesel is, and what parts of the books he likes so much are based in truth and what parts were just made up to tell a good story.

Papa never minds when Martin asks questions. And he never tells Martin to stop asking questions just because he doesn’t know the answers. He always says something like I don’t know, son, but we’ll find out together, eh? Granddad is like that, too, sort of, but sometimes when Martin asks questions Granddad says things like that’s a question for when you’re older, you young rip, and Martin doesn’t understand why, because if he’s old enough to know to ask a question, isn’t he old enough to know the answer? At least part of it? Still, inside his own mind at least, he can admit that they’re both better than Mummy, who either tells him to be quiet or pretends she doesn’t hear him. He’s learned not to ask more than once.

Mummy and Papa are fighting right now, going back and forth about the room—Mummy wants to know why they didn’t get a suite, why it isn’t on the bottom floor, why it’s facing the direction it’s facing, and why there’s only one bed, and Papa is snapping about space and money and convenience and something called a rollaway cot—but Martin is doing his level best not to listen too hard or ask what they’re talking about. Mummy gets mad when he interferes in adult conversations. Martin’s not entirely sure what interfere means, but he thinks it’s when he tries to say he’s sorry or fix the problem when Mummy and Papa are fighting, or when Mummy and Granddad are fighting, or when Mummy and Mrs. Jones are being very polite to one another. So Martin sits on the big, wide windowsill, looking out at the grey sky and the grey street and the grey grass that ends very suddenly just on the other side of the street.

He realizes he’s humming under his breath and tries to stop himself, pressing his hand over his mouth to make him swallow the sound like Mummy always does. Humming or singing to himself while he’s walking around the house or doing his chores is another thing Mummy is always telling him to stop doing, along with biting his lip, sucking his thumb, pulling his hair, and picking the skin around his nails. She’s a little nicer about it when Papa is home, but still, he doesn’t want to make her more upset than she already is. He doesn’t want her to have one of her bad spells while they’re on their vacation.

He’s being very, very good and very, very patient, because he’s supposed to be, but inside he is practically bursting with excitement and anticipation. It’s not like he’s never seen the water before, but this is a different water and a different kind of beach, and he wants to see what might be there after all the rain. Okay, it is kind of raining right now, so maybe not just this second, but still, he wants to go out and look.

It doesn’t sound like he’s going to get to any time soon, though. Mummy’s voice is getting sharp and Papa’s voice is doing that thing it does when he’s trying not to start shouting, and they’re not just talking about the room anymore. Usually that means Papa goes out and won’t take Martin and won’t be back until late, and Mummy goes up to her room and doesn’t come out. But it’s all one room, so she can’t do that, so Martin wonders what’s going to happen if things get louder.

“I’m going to go find out about renting a car for the week,” Papa says finally, his voice tight with anger but still not at the shouty point. “Shouldn’t be too long. Get some rest.” He stomps out the door. Martin braces himself for the door to slam—that’s another thing Mummy hates—but lucky for both of them, Papa shuts it quietly.

Mummy makes a hmmphing noise that usually means she’s about to tell Martin to go make her a cup of tea, and he presses his lips together and tries not to panic. There’s no stove in here, and no kettle, and he doesn’t know if Mummy and Papa packed the tea—Martin always thinks of it as the Bad Tea, not because it tastes bad but because Mummy only tells him to make it when he’s been bad, but it’s actually called oolong—and if he asks her about it, she’s going to be even madder, and aren’t they supposed to have fun?

How old are you? a voice whispers in the back of his mind, a voice he doesn’t recognize but that sounds an awful lot like a grown-up, and Martin clenches his fists and mentally berates himself. He’s four years old—four and a half—he’s not a baby anymore, and he’s too big to whine about being asked to help out, especially when Mummy has one of her spells.

No, that’s not what I—Jesus, the voice hisses, and Martin beats himself up a little more because he isn’t supposed to say things like that, so he probably shouldn’t think them either. The voice whispers it’s okay, you’re okay, then falls silent, so he reckons he’s calmed himself down like he’s supposed to.

He gives a longing look towards the beach again. The rain looks like it’s letting up a little bit, and this would be the perfect time to head out and walk along the shore, but he knows better than to ask Mummy. If she’s having one of her bad spells, she can’t walk except on hard ground, and not very far even then, and she doesn’t like the beach much anyway. He’s going to have to wait for Papa to come back, but it’s going to be hard.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, making Martin jump. Surprisingly, Mummy doesn’t ignore it or order Martin to get it. Instead, she stands up, crosses over to the door, and opens it herself. Martin can’t see who’s there, but Mummy says in her the sign on the door says “No Soliciting” voice, “May I help you?”

“I hope you don’t think me forward,” the person—a lady from the sound of it, with a low, cultured voice—says politely. “We saw you and your family checking in a while ago, and I heard the clerk tell your husband which room you were in, so we came up. I wonder if you’d let your son come down to the beach with us? We’ve been here three days, you see, and there are no other children staying here—my daughter would so like someone to play with.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Mummy says. Martin expects the next thing she says to be but no, thank you, I need him here, but instead she turns around without letting go of the door. “Martin.”

“Y-yes, ma’am?” Martin jumps to his feet quickly.

Mummy steps to one side. In the corridor just outside the door is a very pretty lady wearing a spotless frilled apron over a long dark skirt and a tight-fitted blouse, her hair piled up on her head kind of like Mummy does, but unlike Mummy’s fine ash blonde hair, hers is a dull, mousy brown. She looks like the illustration in the book he tried to read at the library last month, except some of the words were a little too hard for him to puzzle out and when he asked Mummy about them she said it was a book for girls and not for boys. Holding her hand is a girl who looks like she might be a little older than Martin himself is, with curly black hair and blue, blue eyes, wearing a dark wool coat that comes down to just above her smart black boots. She isn’t smiling, but she’s watching Martin with interest.

“Now, behave yourself,” Mummy scolds. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve been giving any trouble to this nice lady or her daughter who have been so kind as to let you come out with them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Martin says, because it’s what he’s supposed to say, but he’s a little worried. Mummy hasn’t even asked the lady’s name, or her daughter’s, and he’s not usually supposed to go off with strangers. If Papa comes back soon and asks, Mummy won’t be able to tell him who Martin is with…but, he reasons, the beach is right there after all. It won’t be hard to know where to go and get him really.

So Martin puts his jacket back on—it’s a little too big for him, actually a lot too big for him, but Mummy says he’s growing too fast and she can’t be buying him a new coat every single winter—and obediently follows the lady and the girl out of the hotel.

There’s a brief lull in the rain, but Martin still wishes he had a hat of some kind as he scurries after the lady and her daughter. They’re not running or hurrying, but they move quickly, and the lady almost seems to be gliding across the ground; he nearly trips twice before they make it across the street, but he doesn’t, and then they’re there.

He wondered, from the hotel, why he couldn’t see the water, but now he realizes it’s because this is kind of a cliff and the actual beach is down below, far too big of a drop to just jump, but Martin can’t see how he’s going to get down. He almost doesn’t care, though. He can hear the waves soughing and crashing against the beach, which looks like it might be more pebbles than actual sand, and the smell is both familiar and unusual; the big smell, the salt and the wind, is the same, but the smaller, underneath smells are different and give it a whole new flavor, and it’s very exciting. There’s nobody else out there, either, which isn’t surprising for it being cold and wet and January, and it means they’ll have the beach to themselves for a bit, he guesses. It’s probably too cold to go swimming, but maybe he can take his shoes and socks off and go wading? He might have to wait for Papa, though.

There’s a soft pop noise, and when Martin looks, he sees that the lady has unfolded a dark canvas beach chair and set it right on the edge of the cliff. She settles herself in it primly and nods at her daughter. “Go ahead. I’ll watch you from here.”

The girl nods back, then beckons to Martin. He thinks, for just a moment, they really are going to just jump off the edge of the cliff, but then the girl slips between two clumps of grass and he realizes there’s a zig-zag path that leads all the way down to the beach. Happy again, he follows her as quick as he can without falling and rolling all the way to the bottom.

It’s colder on the beach than up top, and a little windier, and the persistent drizzle is pretending to start up again, but Martin ignores it. Instead, he beams up at the older girl, who’s not really that much taller than him. “I’m Martin,” he says cheerfully. “What’s your name?”

The girl looks surprised that he asked. She stares at him for a minute without blinking, then finally says, “Ann.”

“With an E?” Martin asks, because that’s what the girl said in the book Mummy wouldn’t let him read.

Ann shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything else. Still, Martin decides that until she says her last name, he’s going to call her mother Miss Cuthbert. They stand on the beach just looking at each other for a few minutes. Martin can feel the rain, but he can’t see it, not yet, so it’s not so bad that they need to worry about going back up already.

Finally, he asks, “What kind of games do you like to play?”

He expects Ann to say she wants to build a sandcastle, or hunt for rocks, or maybe race each other down the beach. Instead, she surprises him by saying, “Hide and seek.”

“Hide and seek?” Martin repeats, puzzled.

“Yes. I’m It,” Ann adds. “I’ll count to fifty, and you go find somewhere to hide, and then I go looking. And then I can hide and you can try to find me.”

“O-oh, okay.” Martin looks around uncertainly. There aren’t…exactly a lot of places to hide on an open beach, unless he ducks under the water, but it might be a bit cold for that. And won’t his footprints show up and make it easy?

He waits for Ann to give him some more rules, like that he has to stay within so many feet or that he’s not allowed to climb the cliffs again, but instead she just covers her eyes and begins counting slowly and deliberately. Martin blinks at her hard, then turns and dashes away as fast as he can.

It turns out there are a few places to hide—clumps of scrub grass clustered around the base of the cliff, a few trash cans, even the remains of an old pier. Martin studies all of them and rejects them impatiently. Mostly he’s too big to fit behind them. He doesn’t know how much time he has left, either, because he can’t hear Ann’s counting.

Then he spies it—the perfect place. A random chunk of rock, easily as big as he is—maybe bigger—all by itself in the middle of the sand. He can stand behind it, or maybe sit with his back pressed to it, and be perfectly hidden, and maybe it won’t be the first place Ann thinks to look because it’s so far away from anything else. He rushes over as fast as he can and is surprised, but pleased, to discover a kind of hollow on the back side of the rock that looks like he’ll fit under it—just. Which is good, because it means he can keep the rain off while he waits for Ann to find him.

Martin drops to his knees and crawls under the rock. The cold of the sand seems to seep into his knees, and he really hopes he isn’t getting his trousers wet and dirty, Mummy will be furious. He curls himself into a ball, hugs his legs to his chest, and waits.

And waits.

And waits some more.

He strains his ears to listen. Surely he should be able to hear footsteps crunching on the sand, even over the gentle soughing of the waves. But he can barely hear the ocean from here, and he definitely can’t hear the sounds of anyone poking around the beach looking for him. It’s possible Ann is just walking carefully so as not to startle him, or that she’s too far away to hear yet, but…but how long has he been hiding now? Isn’t there a rule about calling for someone if you can’t find them? Martin doesn’t play hide and seek very often. Actually, he doesn’t play a lot of games very often, not with other children. He doesn’t go to school yet, and there aren’t a lot of other children in his neighborhood, so he only really sees them when he goes to the local parks. And Mummy isn’t usually up for taking him. He spends a lot of time with Granddad, really, and that’s…fine, it’s fine, but it means he spends more time playing backgammon and checkers and learning to read in three languages than he does running around. He can climb trees like a monkey, so Granddad says—and Papa too, he says Martin would make a fine deckhand—and he runs and swims well enough, but most of the time if he’s not doing grown-up things, he’s playing by himself.

There’s something you’re supposed to say when you can’t find people, Martin remembers, but he can’t remember what it is, just that it’s the phrase that means the game is over, come out, but it’s also the phrase that means I give up, which is probably why Ann hasn’t yelled it yet. She must be very determined. Martin can’t blame her. He’s usually so easy to find, anyway, on the rare occasions he plays, he’s usually the first one found, so it can’t be hard for Ann, especially when it’s just him. He just has to be patient for a little while longer.

He hopes she finds him soon, though. It’s getting cold. It looks like the rain is getting heavier, too. It doesn’t sound like it’s raining very hard, but the damp is getting into his hiding space and when he looks at the entrance, he can’t see very far. The salt smell is stronger, and it almost sounds like the waves are getting…quieter? Maybe the tide is going out. That means the ocean is getting farther away…right?

He waits some more, and listens hard again, but there’s no footsteps and no voices and almost no wave. And now he’s getting worried about the rock. When water gets into sand, it shifts its position, he knows that from a nature documentary, and if the rain makes the sand too wet and the rock shifts its weight, it might fall over on top of him, and even if he doesn’t get killed by the rock hitting his head or breaking his neck or something like that, he’ll be trapped and won’t be able to get out and maybe he’ll not be able to breathe and…he’s starting to panic a little bit.

Suddenly, he decides he doesn’t care if he loses the game. It’s not fun anymore, and he’s scared. He’ll come out and find—and find—he’ll come out and announce he’s giving up and ask if they can go back up to the top of the cliff and, and he doesn’t want to play anymore. He uncurls himself and half crawls, half falls out onto the sand, scrambles out, and pulls himself to his feet using the rock. The rock doesn’t budge. That’s good. Maybe.

It’s hard to see, though. The rain—is it rain? It’s not a hard rain if it is—makes everything hard to make out. He’s vaguely aware that the sea is off to one side and the cliffs are off to another, but all he can see are shadows. He can’t really see anything clearly but the rock right in front of him.

He can’t see any shapes that look like people.

“Hello?” he calls. His voice sounds small and quiet. He clears his throat and calls again, trying to sound louder, but it doesn’t really come out any louder.

Maybe it’s his ears? He can’t hear the waves anymore really either. When he takes an experimental step, there’s no crunch of sand or stone beneath his feet. And it’s getting even colder. He shivers and tugs at his jacket. It doesn’t do a lot of good. He can still feel the rain—no, not rain, he thinks. It’s fog, and it’s seeping into his bones. It feels like it’s seeping into his brain, too. It’s not just hard to see, it’s hard to think. He shakes his head to clear it.

Where’s—where’s—wasn’t there someone he was playing with? He bites his lip and tries to think. He wasn’t playing by himself, was he? Well, he usually does, so maybe…but no, he’s, there was…a girl? She’s, she’s looking for him, she must be…she said she would look for him. He presses his hands to the sides of his head and tries hard, so very hard, to just…think.

I go looking. And then I can hide and you can try to find me. He remembers now. She never said she would find him, but she said he had to find her and…and he doesn’t know where to start looking. Everything looks the same, and…he can’t even see the rock anymore, he—was there a rock there? Which way is the ocean? He stands in one spot, terrified to move, afraid that if he runs the wrong way he’ll fall in the water and drown, and why is there so much fog?

“Hello?” he cries out. “I—I’m lost! Help!” He starts to call out to the girl, but—what was her name? She told him her name, what’s her name, why can’t he remember her name—

“I don’t want to play anymore!” he cries, but the words get lost in the fog. “Hello? H-hello? I—” Tears spring to his eyes, and he dashes at them angrily. “I w-want—”

He wants—what does he want? Who does he want? There’s, there’s someone, someone waiting for him, someone who—or, or is he just making that up? Is it just a pretend friend, someone to make him feel better when he’s all alone? Isn’t he always alone really?

Is there even anybody else on the beach?

Is there anybody else in the whole world?

Is there anything out there at all other than him, and the fog, the fog that won’t go away, the fog that—

Olly-olly-oxen-free. The words slam into his head and he remembers, he remembers that’s what you say to make the people who are hiding come out, but—but he’s the one hiding, isn’t he? No. No, he’s doing the looking, which means he can say the words and then, and then he’ll lose, but the game will be over and he can go.

“Ol—olly-olly-oxen-free?” He cups his hands around his mouth and tries to shout, but the words don’t go very far from him. Maybe because he’s the only person to hear them.

No! No, that’s not—that isn’t right, it can’t be right, there was—there’s somebody, he knows somebody is there, Mummy sent him to the beach with—Mummy. He has a mummy, she sent him to the beach with a lady because—because Papa went to get a car.

Papa.

He has a mummy, he has a papa, he has—he has a name, what’s his name? They call him something, don’t they? He tries to remember, tries to hear their voices, but…b-but he can’t think, it’s too foggy, it’s too cold, it’s too lonely, and he wants, he wants, he wants, he wants to go home.

“Hello? Hello!” he cries again, and he’s really crying now, because he’s scared and he’s lonely and he doesn’t know where he is or anyone else is and he just wants to be found. He starts running, no longer caring if there’s, if there’s something he might, something bad that might happen, because anything is better than here and nothing and—

There’s a sound, a new sound he can’t quite make out, and he stops and spins all around him, breathing hard and fast and trying so hard to listen, but it’s so hard to hear and…and it sounds so familiar, it’s, it’s deep and resonant and it’s safe, it’s a sound that doesn’t belong in the fog and…

“…see o’er the foaming billows fair haven’s land…”

He knows that song, he knows it, and—he turns around, and there’s a shape in the fog, it’s moving, it’s making the sound, it’s, it’s—he starts humming along. He’s, he’s, something tells him he’s not supposed to hum, not supposed to sing, but the song makes him feel better and he remembers it, so he hums it very loudly as he runs towards the shape, and then he starts singing, his voice trembling and cracking as he tries to match the volume, but he’s not sure if the sound is making it through the fog or not.

“…leave that poor old stranded wreck and pull for the shore…”

The shape is fading in and out, and he can’t find it, he can’t see it anymore, and he’s scared, he’s so scared, he tries to find the voice, but it’s not singing now, and he stretches out his arms and cries out desperately and—

—and something is grabbing him, something is holding him, and it’s a shock because he was alone just a second ago and now he’s not and something is holding him and he can’t, he can’t, he needs to get away, he has to fight back, he—

“Martin! Martin, it’s me. It’s me.” The voice is familiar, so familiar, and it’s right in front of him, and there’s a shape, and—and now there are two hands on his shoulders, holding him still. “Look at me, Martin. Tell me what you see.”

“I see…” Martin. His name is Martin. That’s who he is, he’s Martin, he…he looks up and the fog clears, and he sees a face, round and white and with a scratchy stubble and curly copper-colored hair and worried apple green eyes, and he knows it, and he takes his first full, deep breath in what feels like forever. “I see you, Papa. I see you.”

Papa pulls Martin into a tight hug, and Martin clings to his shirt and cries, not sure how he has any tears left, and Mummy’s going to be upset with him because you’re too big to cry, Martin, you know better, but he has to, because…

“I’m sorry, Martin,” Papa says, his voice choked like maybe he’s crying too. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have let you go if I’d known.”

“I, I couldn’t find her,” Martin wails. “There was a girl and—and w-we were playing hide and seek and—and I c-couldn’t find her, I was looking and—and there wasn’t anybody at all…”

“I know. I know.” Papa rubs Martin’s back. “They were part of something called the Lonely. I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, but for now, just know they were just making you think like that. It wasn’t real, son.”

“I-it felt real.” Martin looks up at Papa, but he’s got tears in his eyes and he can’t see well. “I, I was all alone.”

“Not anymore.” Papa kisses him on the forehead and stands up, hefting Martin up in his arms and settling him on his hip even though he’s really too big for that, and Martin clings to his neck and rests his head on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get ice cream.”

He carries Martin up the zig-zag path and doesn’t complain once about Martin being too heavy to carry, or too big to be carried, and he doesn’t put him down when they get to the street either, just walks with him towards the shops. He keeps talking as they walk, soft but steady, telling him about the things they’re going to do and places they’ll see and telling him, again and again, that he won’t ever have to be alone again.

Martin almost believes him.

When they get to the ice cream shop, Papa finally lets Martin down, but he doesn’t let go of Martin’s hand as they walk into the shop. It’s very, very tiny, but it smells good, and Papa takes him up to the counter and asks for two dishes of strawberry ice cream from the man behind the counter. Martin is glad there’s another person really there.

He looks around the shop without letting go of Papa’s hand and sees another boy, too, who looks about his age. He’s small and skinny and resting his chin on his arm, which is resting on the table, and he’s poking at a dish of ice cream listlessly. He looks about as upset as Martin feels, and there’s a little bit of Martin that’s glad he’s not the only one having a bad day.

“Jonathan, stop playing with your food,” the old woman, probably his grandmother, sitting across from him says in a weary kind of voice, and Jonathan—Martin guesses that’s the boy’s name—puts down his spoon and pushes the dish away from him. The old woman sighs, but doesn’t say anything else.

Martin almost wants to go say something to the boy, but he’s afraid to talk to anyone else right now in case they disappear too, so he cuts his eyes away and clings to Papa’s hand as they make their way over to a table in the corner and sit across from each other with their ice cream. Papa picks up his spoon and takes a bite, but Martin just stares at his, wondering if he’ll even be able to taste it. Everything just feels so…so far away.

“Martin,” Papa says quietly, and he reaches over and takes Martin’s hand. Martin looks up at Papa to see him looking at him with a very, very kind look on his face. “You won’t ever have to feel that alone again. I promise. I won’t ever let you be alone like that again.”

Martin bites his lips hard. “What about when you go out to sea with Uncle Kay again?”

“You still won’t be alone.” Papa takes off his cap, flicks it once to get the dust and hair off, and then leans across the table and puts it on Martin’s head. It slips down over his eyes for a moment, but Martin pushes it up and looks up at Papa, who smiles, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I’ll always be with you, one way or another, as long as I’m able to draw breath. I promise on my very soul. I love you and I won’t ever let the Lonely have you. Ever.”

Martin looks at Papa for a long moment, then smiles back. Something warm settles in his chest, and he knows Papa is right. He won’t ever have to go through something like that again, and he’ll never be alone again, because Papa promised he wouldn’t.

And Papa never, ever, ever breaks his promises.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

Love Will Remember 5

[Chapter updated in January 2024] A/N: It's been a while since I last updated but I promise you, I haven't abandoned this story. I figured the start of 2024 deserves a fresh little something for all the Kalijah fans. We're still here, even all those years later. <3 I also want to thank you for your continuous support and feedback. It means a lot to me <3

English is not my first language    

→ I do not own anything of the TVD - Universe and I’m not affiliated or associated with the writers etc. This is only a headcanon/fanfiction.

Pairings: Kalijah (Katherine & Elijah), Klatherine (allies)

Rated: M

Read on: AO3 and / or FFnet

Word Count: 4k  // Masterlist (x)

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She had been thinking about the last night – or rather about the conversation with Elijah – for a long time. He could not remember her and yet her conversation had a quality that she had not felt for a long time.

Of course, it had only been superficial topics. After all, to him, they were strangers and he believed she was just a tourist. And yet he had been earnestly interested in her answers all the time. He was genuinely interested in talking to her, without hoping they would perhaps end up in bed. And one has to believe her when she says this thought isn't uncommon when it comes to men. Men in bars usually don't just gift a drink and start talking if they weren't hoping for something that usually contains a very specific 'something'.

Somehow she felt foolish that she liked this stupid conversation so much. She should not feel flattered that he had noticed her (and not another person in this bar). That he had bought her a drink, something she had never seen him do before. He played for his audience but rarely interacted with them the way he had done with her.

That didn’t mean Elijah was still somehow attracted to you, Katherine. Why should he, he doesn't even remember you!

And yet Katherine was confident enough to believe that her beauty was naturally striking. Why wouldn't it lure a man towards her? Even if they were speaking of Elijah who didn't just follow his basic instincts. But perhaps he does by now. She has no idea, after all, what kind of man he is without his memories.

As much as she resisted, she thoroughly liked that she had been noticed by Elijah. At the same time, however, the pain of their separation flared up again.

So many years had passed and yet the encounter with him triggered something in her. It made her remember what he had meant to her. How he had made her feel.

Memories that should belong in a box, hidden in some kind of cellar.

But she really shouldn’t be sentimental. This was a mission, after all. Speaking of…

There was no way around meeting Elijah again. Even if it was probably better to leave this conversation to be just this one single direct interaction with him, she would most likely not achieve success if she only played the mysterious stranger. Sure, perhaps that would increase Elijah's interest but one cannot be certain. And a pure possibility alone was not enough.

Not when she had Klaus breathing down her neck. Not when there's the possibility that he's watching her. The thought alone made her feel uneasy and caused her to immediately go through her apartment to check if there was anything unusual in there.

She turned each pillow over and even rummaged through her closet just to make sure he wasn’t hiding somewhere. Which, of course, is totally stupid, but her paranoia forced her to.

Under other circumstances, her curiosity about this changed Elijah would not be great enough to accept the danger of Klaus. Under other circumstances, she would run; no matter what Klaus promised her, you could not trust him.

But she knew, was actually pretty sure, that he had a close eye on her. He could even be trusted to monitor her and have some kind of tracker attached to her. After all, he had enough witches under his control who would certainly grant him this little favor. There's no way he would entrust her with something as important as returning his brother to their family without making sure she was supervised the entire time.

It made her want to barf.

Katherine quickly closed all the curtains of her otherwise sunny apartment (call it a useless sense of security) before she sat down and tried to think.

If Klaus wanted to see progress, she needed to be more quick and efficient. Otherwise, she risks getting a visit again which was something Katherine wanted to prevent.

Okay … let's think.

It was really not new to her to pick up and flirt with a man who could be useful to her, and it was usually no problem. But this man of all people was… difficult. They had history and although she didn't want to admit it he still … meant something to her.

Part of the reason why he decided to end their relationship was because he feared she was deceiving him. Which was complete bullshit because she didn't have any secret agenda. He knew what she had wanted, namely his position to work out a deal for her. She never made a secret of it when she decided to contact him.

He did her injustice by accusing her of wanting to take advantage of him and somehow, it had given her some kind of satisfaction to know that despite his beliefs and fears, he was wrong. That she hadn't done anything unrighteousness. That she wasn't as corrupted and ruined as everyone wants to think. That she was worth saving.

But if she does play him now, he would be right. He could obviously not remember but Katherine is sure that at one point, he will. And if that point is reached, he will remember everything. Including how she played him. He would be convinced that he made the right choice, that she couldn't be trusted.

And she couldn't have that.

So think, Katherine. What is something you could do to make progress but which won't let you look like a mendacious person once he remembers? What would make him want to interact with her but wouldn't be too much? What wouldn't be looking manipulative?

It was actually pretty sure that most of the actions had to come from him, because then you could not accuse her of anything.

Even if she could, of course, create an incentive, because there was something that she could certainly take in her hand. Something that would be appropriate and not quite so noticeable that it would seem suspicious.

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The next evening she went back to the bar. She didn’t dress up more than usual, and didn’t wear any extraordinary clothes – she is, after all, not going to a party or trying to seduce anyone. Which meant that her casual clothes had to do. She was just herself, which should be enough. And if she's honest, she still looks better than most visitors in this bar or even in this town.

She ordered two beers at the bar, and despite not being a beer drinker, it was a necessary evil that she had to accept. After all, one had to create a few similarities and she had seen him drinking that brand of beer. Perhaps the desired conversation would be more easy then.

Speaking of conversation: Katherine had tried her best to prepare herself. To settle into her role as a tourist who has never met him before this trip to Manosque. She had thought about practicing her performance in front of a mirror to make sure everything was going according to her plan. She was a 'bit' perfectionist and she didn’t want to have multiple efforts. It had to work perfectly the first time. However, she quickly figured out that this might not be the right approach. It would give her a false sense of security, at least until something unexpectedly happens. Then, chances would be high that it would throw her off track for a few seconds which could be enough for Elijah to note that something was going on.

She had therefore only roughly considered something and decided to improvise the rest which hopefully won't turn out as a mistake.

Until now, however, everything seemed to be going as it had been observed the previous evenings. While Elijah played, she kept herself in the background, trying to not raise his attention just now. Even after she had gotten the beers she had ordered, she waited for Elijah to take a break before she made her way to him. He was sorting through some papers when she showed up next to him, focused on staying calm and not forgetting her role – which was admittedly difficult because he looked forbiddenly dashing in the white Henley he wore.

"Hello."

He looked up in surprise, apparently not having noted her approaching and the hint of a smile played along his lips as he seemed to recognize her.

"Oh, hello." He put the pieces of paper back on the holder of the piano before he stood up from his piano stool to speak to her at the same eye level.

"I brought you something", she handed him the beer in her left hand which he took with one raised eyebrow, probably wondering what the reason for this was. "I wanted to return the favor for yesterday's drink and I hope you accept?" a genuine question because she still found it difficult to assess this new Elijah.

"Why thank you, but you really didn't have to return the favor. I liked doing it, I certainly didn't expect anything in return." He assured her and sounded sincere. It made her wonder what exactly made him want to buy her a drink and even initiate a conversation. She's sure she's not the only frequent visitor/listener in this bar.

"Well, I like to return the favor," she offered him a smile which certainly wasn't a forced smile. Even this conversation somehow felt … natural. "Cheers?" she lifted her bottle and thankfully, Elijah returned the gesture. Both took a sip from their respective bottle whereby Katherine tried to ignore the specific taste of beer which wasn't really to her taste.

That would already be done.

So that no embarrassing silence arose, Katherine resumed the conversation relatively quickly.

"You had to get back to work so fast yesterday," her hand caressed the piano to show what she meant, "That I didn't have any opportunity to even ask for the name of the very generous man who bought me a drink. I hoped to find out today so I could say properly thanks again."

This should be a good start and would also tell her what he called himself. Maybe he had given himself a different name than Elijah. Perhaps he now went by 'Theo' or 'Daniel' or something entirely different.

"You're right. I apologize for not introducing myself, but somehow I didn’t notice." Because interacting with her felt so familiar? Because he somehow knew that they already knew each other? Katherine assumed that she was not going to find out.

He moved his beer to his left hand before he extended his right hand to her. "My name is Elijah."

So it is Elijah after all. Somehow it was nice to see that he kept his name and didn't completely invent himself new.

Her eyes fell on his outstretched hand, which he had given her to greet her.

So far, she had studiously avoided touching him in any way; although touching was the key to creating familiarity, a short touch here, a short touch there. Decent, of course, but people tended to have more trust in a person when you touched them briefly on the shoulder, hand, or upper arm.

It is probably quite obvious why she had avoided this so far. She didn’t want this kind of familiarity, a healthy distance has never hurt and it is better for her.

Nonetheless, it would be viewed as impolite if she just ignored the hand that he had extended to her which is why she took it. His handshake was as she knew him; not lax, but he radiated the authority known from him. Which in this case was probably something he didn’t express consciously.

"Nice to meet you, Elijah." She bit down on her tongue to not add any additional comment such as 'a nice name' and then made sure to let go of his hand as quickly as possible without seeming suspicious.

"And with whom do I have the pleasure?" He, again, sounded genuinely inquisitive about it which suggested that he really didn’t seem to have a clue who she was.

Of course, she knew that this question would come, and it was the logical consequence after being asked his name. Katherine had also thought about it. What name should she give him? The French version of her name? Catherine Pierre? Her original name, the one he always liked to use? Katerina? The name she usually uses? Katherine?

She wanted to lie to him as little as possible, even if the French version of her name was not a lie, after all, there were people who called her that. However, she always kept in mind that one day he would remember everything. To name him another name was therefore not really an option because he would see it as a blatant lie and another reason why she wasn't trustworthy.

So only Katherine and Katerina remained.

Katerina was of course very obvious, it was the name he always chose for her. He met her as Katerina and somehow, that name stuck with him, no matter that she chose to go by a different name by now.

However, there were two good reasons why she would not introduce herself as Katerina.

On the one hand, she had concerns that this name might trigger something in him, maybe he would start to remember completely. He must have recognized something about her, otherwise, she could not explain why he had bought her of all guests a drink. Katherine, however, wasn't sure if it would be good for her if he started to remember. That should be a task his family has to handle, not her as it could come with risks. She had no idea how long Elijah was already in this memory-less state, she had no idea what he had done since then. She couldn't assess how he would react upon starting to remember who he truly was, what he was capable of, and what he might have done since he chose to get his memories erased; perhaps the true reason why he had picked such a drastic decision in the first place would bubble up again and one never knows what the true trigger for that choice had been and what that caused him to feel.

She didn't want to get in the danger zone.

On the other hand, she also didn't want to introduce herself as Katerina as some kind of self-protection. Hearing him say her name like this – although he probably won't remember to roll the 'R' as he used to do – could bring back even more memories and she wasn't sure if she could endure this.

It was surprisingly difficult enough to interact with him because all the interactions or conversations went through her mind hours later. He was a person who was hard to forget because he did hold a meaning to her even though he believed it to be different…

This is why she chose to introduce herself as the person she was, the person she identified herself as: Katherine.

"My name's Katherine." No last name because he also didn't introduce himself with his last name (if he could even remember it).

Not having to mention a surname was also convenient for her as it came with fewer risks. 'Katherine Pierce' might trigger something in him as well, a 'Katherine Pierce' also might be recognized by others because she had no idea what Elijah did when he wasn't in the pub playing the piano. Perhaps he had friends he talked to? If he tells them that he had met a 'Katherine' it wouldn't be as striking as if he tells them he met a 'Katherine Pierce'. Although Katherine didn’t think she was some kind of well-known celebrity, she was cautious about her identity.

"Katherine-" he repeated the name, his gaze still curious on her although she believed he tried to classify the name on his tongue. "-it's a beautiful name."

That comment made her involuntarily smile although she quickly tried to hide that response. Instead, she politely thanked him the way every person would react when receiving a compliment on their name.

"Okay, Elijah." It was strange saying that name out loud again, even more so to say it in front of that man himself. "Now that I know your name, I can again thank you again for the drink. It really surprised me. Positively."

Oh, if only he knew how much she was surprised by this deed.

"It really wasn't a circumstance. Aside from that, it should probably be me to thank you for returning the favor even though I truly had not intended for you to repay me in any kind." A statement that seemed to be important to him because he again let her know that he indeed didn't have any ulterior motives behind buying her that drink.

"Don't worry, I wanted to." Now, how to keep this conversation going? The actual agenda was over. You bought me a drink, I bought you a drink, we’re even now. Topic finished and everyone back to their respective spot.

Only with the difference that their conversation could not stay there. It needed to develop, to move further.

Sure, now would usually be the time to start flirting, which was typically a breeze. A few ambiguous sentences, a glance here, a 'random' touch there. Only with the difference that she did not want this.

It would be a lot easier if he wasn’t Elijah.

"I was wondering…" She chose her words wisely, wanting to push their conversation in the right direction. There was something else she wanted to say but decided against it before the words left her mouth. "how long you're already playing here? I suppose a solo man show is quite rare." Her words were accompanied by a slight smile that might elicit him some secrets.

It caused Elijah to chuckle shortly before he eyed the beer and then returned his gaze back to her, his index finger swiftly scratching over his cheek.

"It's probably no fascinating story. I wanted to visit this town and I came in here to buy a drink. While I was waiting for my drink, I discovered this piano in the corner. It was a bit dusty and covered but somehow I had this desire to play it. It wasn’t exactly polite, but I went over and folded up the key cover, sat down, and started playing. Please don’t think I’m crazy, but there was this connection somehow as if it was meant to be. And the owner of his pub, Baptiste, was impressed by my playing and asked me if I could imagine playing here regularly."

"And so you did," Katherine concluded, still fascinated by the turn of events. She cannot picture normal Elijah wanting to play a shabby piano in a pub and then even agreeing to play regularly in there. He would probably take such an offer as an insult, even if he wouldn't voice it out loud.

"I'm sure you have many fans," Katherine added as she kept her gaze on Elijah. She didn't know why she chose to say this. It was actually rather stupid. Concentrate, Katherine!

The corners of Elijah's lips lifted slightly and he almost looked slightly sheepishly.

"I think people like the music. Although I'm of course well aware people don't come here to hear me play."

Is he really sure about that? Because Katherine knew there was one person in this room that specifically only came here to hear him.

"Well, I can only speak from my perspective. I was surprised to discover life-piano music when I first came to visit. But it was a nice surprise."

The words left her lips fluidly, not giving a hint away that she truly was astounded by the entire arrangement.

She seemed to have flattered him somehow because he did smile again. Not in the polite, casual way; it was a smile that reached his eyes. An honest joy. An expression that she had rarely seen except for the moments they shared a moment.

Somehow she found it adorable.

Damn it.

Was that really necessary?

To mask this confused reaction, she took a sip of her beer and wondered why she a) reacted to him in that way and b) why she acted so awkwardly. She struggled, not being able to lead their conversation anywhere fruitful without having to flirt or without having some kind of non-neutral reaction.

Was it really possible to mess this up so badly?

Sure, she could ask him if he wanted to show her how to play piano but this was neither the right location nor was it the right approach. It would just remind her of certain things plus she was also sure it was no good idea to risk being (almost) alone with him. Although alone time would probably be the key to success, Katherine simply didn’t want to be alone with him.

Surely Klaus would understand.

…

Who does she fool? Of course, he wouldn't.

"Uhm, I don't want to take more of your time…", she started while thinking of a good way to end this conversation before it got awkward but also keeping a door open.

The next question he would certainly misunderstand at the beginning, but nevertheless, a part of her was quite interested to see how he reacted to it.

"I was planning on going out for dinner tonight…" As expected, Elijah seemed to be slightly puzzled about the start of this sentence as his words caused Elijah to tilt his head, apparently seeming like he considered something. It was interesting in a way that he didn't seem to be interested in the potential thought of spending time with her outside this pub. Which she definitely found strange. But perhaps that's only her interpretation because she didn't really want him to consider this some type of date. Before he could voice his objections, however, Katherine quickly raised her hand.

"Oh, no, not what you think. Don't worry." She quickly added that she definitely wasn't asking him out. At least not yet and hopefully never.

"I thought that you might know a good place? I would appreciate a tip."

Elijah was indeed able to make a recommendation, which she took as an occasion to finally say goodbye on the grounds that she was starting to feel hungry and thanks to him, now has the ideal restaurant.

It was hopefully an elegant safe before she found herself in an embarrassing situation although she did ponder if he would have actually declined her invitation if she truly had asked him out. What was the reason for it?

Did he subliminally have a grudge against her? Even if she could not comprehend that, because he has been quite friendly and open-minded towards her so far. Surely he wouldn't initiate a conversation by buying her a drink if he somehow didn't like her.

Or maybe it was something completely different: Maybe more was hiding behind the supposedly unsuspecting facade.

It definitely gave her something to think about as she put the still-half-full bottle of beer on the bar and then proceeded to leave the club.

In the background, the music began to play and as she walked outside, she noticed that he had not answered the one question about how long he had been there. Intentionally or accidentally?

Don't give it too much thought, Katherine. Don't let him drive you crazy.

Even before she had entirely left the club, she had already taken out the phone from her bag to go look for the address of the restaurant although she did not plan on visiting it this evening as she was looking for a different type of meal. Something more nutritious for a vampire. And hopefully also a way of distracting her mind.

While searching for the address on the internet (and its opening hours), Katherine subconsciously noticed a woman who was entering the pub. Katherine didn't really pay attention to that person, despite her instincts telling her that there was something different about this woman in comparison to the usual visitors of this place.

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A/N: Please consider leaving (positive) feedback as it keeps my muse for writing alive. ♥ Remember to stay kind.

[booksarelife-stuff]

our secret moments in a crowded room

Jily (James Potter/Lily Evans), minor Wolfstar (Remus Lupin/Sirius Black)

My entry for the September Jily Challenge! @jilychallenge

Prompt: I tripped on the red carpet and you caught me

Partner was the amazing @kates836! Thank you for being an amazing partner!

In a fake PR relationship with Severus Snape, Lily can’t help be distracted by the real person who has her heart. 

Word Count: 4,077

Read of Ao3     Masterlist

The car took a sharp left and Lily tried to stabilize herself so she didn’t touch Severus, who was sitting beside her. She made eye contact with Mary, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Mary shot her the millionth apologetic look.

Lily glanced back down at her phone, just in time to see a reply to the picture that she had sent of her in her dress.

Ahdjsfhkjdsf I can’t breathe. How dare you send this to me right before I walk out on the red carpet.

She smiled widely down at her phone.

I don’t know how I’m going to function with you that close and can’t do anything about it.

She smiled faltered for a second, because yeah, that was truly going to be torture for her too.

I’m about to go out. I can’t wait to see you.

Lily bit her lip before typing a reply.

If you think this dress looks good on me now, wait until you take it off.

The message bubbles appeared instantly and Lily’s smile turned smug.

You shouldn’t have said that. I’m going to think about it all night now. Love you

Love you too

She locked her phone and handed it to Mary, who would be holding all of her personal items for the rest of the night. Severus sighed deeply beside her and Lily tried not to roll her eyes.

If Lily had it her way, she’d be arriving with a very different date. But Lily didn’t have a choice. What the studio wanted, the studio got. Including a semi-fake relationship with her co-star, Severus Snape.

They had just finished filming the final season of their wildly popular show, The Hollow Hour. The show definitely didn’t need this kind of press to be successful, but Lily still didn’t have a choice in the matter, considering she had already booked a leading role in another one of their shows.

On-screen, Lily and Snape played Tara and Gideon, characters who had been in love since they were children and fighting in a war where they possibly wouldn’t make it out. Off-screen, Lily could hardly stand the presence of Snape.

It didn’t start out that way. When they’d first met, Lily had thought he was pretty cool. The show had been her first big break, as she had only done television guest appearances before then. Snape had a few movies under his belt, one of which was super popular. Their friendship had started out as his kind of giving her direction when it came to the whole fame thing.

Then, it got a little invasive. He would just be in her trailer, coming in without knocking. He started asking for more date-like hangouts. His disgusting political beliefs started coming out through their conversations and his apparent hatred for their co-star, Remus Lupin because he was openly gay. And he started acting as she owed him something, especially since the show took off.

The rumors had started before Lily realized that Snape was the creep that he was. People saw them pining on screen and going out for the occasional drink after a long day when Lily could still stand him and suddenly, people thought they were in love.

It had been a real nuisance in Lily’s life. Every interview, she tried to squash the rumors, whereas Snape would encourage them. It didn’t help that the show got popular, like really insane amounts of popularity. The character shipping took a sharp left turn into people shipping them.

Snily, they called them. From fanfiction to edits and art to covers of glossy magazines. It was everywhere. No matter if Lily was doing interviews from one of her movies, they would ask about Snape.

And since Lily was some sort of a masochist, she knew exactly what the fans thought of their relationship. They thought Lily denied the relationship because she was very private about her life, and Snape would never say it outright because he wanted to respect her but also wanted the world to know that she is his.

It didn’t help that Snape had accumulated a very dedicated fanbase. Like worship-the-ground-he-walked-on kind of dedication. To the point where Lily would get occasional death threats because she was “hurting him by denying their relationship.”

They never seemed to believe Lily when she said no, much like Snape and their studio. Lily couldn’t flat out deny the relationship in interviews anymore until after the final episode. It made her want to dry heave.

The car was slowing, and Lily could hear the buzz of fans and reporters. They were in the queue now for the red carpet. Mary unbuckled and twisted around in the seat, doing a final check of Lily’s hair and make-up.

Lily smoothed down her green satin dress, her legs bent awkwardly to not crease the dress and also not puncture the fabric with her stiletto pumps. Lily’s after-party dress was hanging up in the back, but Lily didn’t know if she was actually going to attend.

It had taken her a long time to feel beautiful at these types of events. Being considered plus size in this industry felt like a death sentence, especially since Lily refused to play the “funny fat friend” or anything like that. But she felt good tonight, especially with the way it hugged her curves and the bit of cleavage showed.

Severus looked like himself, just in a suit. His greasy hair was covered in dry shampoo and tucked behind his ears. He turned towards Lily and smiled like a cat who got the cream.

“We could make this real, you know?” he said, for probably the millionth time. “You and I would work.”

Lily tried not to crinkle her nose in disgust. “Severus,” she said. “You know I have no interest in that.”

There had been many times where Lily wished she could speak her mind and rip him a new one, but she could not get branded as a diva. So, she played off these uncomfortable moments with a laugh and polite words, even when she was telling him no for the millionth time.

She saw the corner of his lips turn down in a slight frown and averted her eyes to stare straight ahead.

The voices outside got louder and suddenly the car was stopping. Mary jumped out of the car quickly as Lily unbuckled. Moody, Lily’s driver, and bodyguard, also got out quickly to open Lily’s door.

She had to take Moody’s hand to step out. She wobbled when she shifted her weight to her high heels but quickly corrected herself. She was going to have blisters for weeks after tonight. Mary appeared from the other side of the car, hands already straightening Lily’s dress.

They were covered from the cameras here, so no one saw Mary make sure Lily’s breasts were firmly taped into the dress. The low cut of the dress required her boobs to be placed perfectly and one slip would probably cost Lily her career. That’s why Lily had Mary, her best friend since they were children and who now worked as her PA. The back of the dress was practically nonexistent and her long auburn waves tickled her with every movement.

Mary quickly batted away one of her dark coily curls that snuck out of its bun before giving Lily a once over.

“You look gorgeous,” she said, smiling. “He’s not going to want to take his eyes off of you.”

Lily gave her a real smile and a quick hug before stepping away to get around the car where Severus was surely waiting. She already had her red carpet smile on and tried not to pay attention to the up and down look Severus was giving her.

Severus reached out his arm to escort Lily, but Lily walked past it. They said they had to arrive together, not actually walk together. Mary let out a snort of laughter as she followed Lily out to the carpet—to walk with Lily but hidden away.

The lights were blinding as Lily walked out on the carpet. Cameras flashing every second, people yelling questions at her. Lily was now a pro at this, after so many years of practice. The screams intensified, signaling Snape was now making his appearance.

Lily moved slowly down the carpet, making sure her smile stayed in place. Towards the end of her walk, Snape did sneak up on her, wrapping an arm around her waist taking extra care to let his fingers drag against her bare skin. She fought to not recoil away from him.

She smiled and laughed though she wanted to push him away.

The entrance to Royal Albert Hall was full of reporters and cameras. Lily never really minded this part of the red carpet because most of the time it was just questions like “who are you wearing?” or the occasional fun game with whatever fledgling media company had weaseled reporters in.

Lily was heading towards the first available reporter, a young woman who was smiling widely as Lily approached. But a familiar head of dark curls caught her eye, and she couldn’t help the way her attention turned immediately that way.

It had been six weeks since her boyfriend of three years had touched her. Six weeks since she had felt the indentation of him next to her in bed, felt his warmth, had him within her fingertips.

And James looked so good, it made Lily want to pull him away and find the nearest secluded spot. The way his tailored suit hugged the angles of his body, the body that she knew like it her own.

She could feel her heart start pounding in her chest, and she hoped the cameras weren’t picking up the way her hands were shaking.

“Lily Evans!” the young reporter cheered. “How are you on this fine evening?”

“I’m doing great,” Lily said, smiling and resisting the urge to look at James.

“So, you arrived with rumored beau and co-star, Severus Snape,” the reporter cheered. “Care to confirm anything?”

Lily fake laughed. “We just carpooled. Better for the environment.”

The girl’s face tightened a bit, but the reporter knew better than to press.

Lily answered her questions with ease. Who was she wearing? Did she feel good about her role as a presenter? What was she going to do after the final season of The Hollow Hour?

Once the interview concluded, she turned to go to the next reporter.

But there was James, looking at her with a slight smile on his lips. His dark brown eyes did a quick once over of her, appraising her every curve quickly. And goddamn, he wore his glasses instead of his contacts, reminding Lily of the quiet moments in her flat where they were tangled together, his glasses pushing into her face. His normal frizzy curls were more defined thanks to whatever hair product his stylist made him use. His brown skin was as flawless as ever, glowing in the camera flashes in the fading day.

It couldn’t have been more than a moment where their eyes met, but it was enough to thoroughly distract Lily to the point of missing the small bump in the carpet. Her shoe caught and the sensation of falling happened before she felt strong arms catch her.

“Are you okay?” James asked as Lily’s world steadied in his arms, the concern in his eyes.

Lily felt her cheeks redden, both from the embarrassment of tripping on the red carpet and the fact that she was in James’s arms. She nodded but when she stepped back, her right shoe gave out.

She moved away from James’s arms, but took his hand, their fingers clasping each other, to keep her balance as she lifted her dress up to see the heel completely snapped off.

“Well, that’s great,” she said with a laugh. James laughed with her. She wobbled for a second and James’s hand grabbed her side to steady her, his fingers making her burn.

Lily couldn’t help but smile softly at him as Mary appeared, getting on her knees in front of Lily, urging her to turn slightly. She let go of James’s hand and used his shoulder to keep her balance as Mary undid the straps on Lily’s shoes. Mary, who was definitely getting a raise after this, took off her own black kitten heels and gave them to Lily.

She was now several inches shorter and her dress dragged a bit on the ground, but it was better than no shoes at all.

“I owe you my life,” Lily told Mary, who smiled in response. Lily didn’t miss the way she gave James a glance and then a teasing smile back to her. She turned back to James. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I’ll see you around?”

She wanted to say that she would see him tonight, preferably with no clothes, but she just smiled and nodded in response.

As she let go and James stepped away, the last thing on her mind was the cameras catching every moment.

~~~

To Lily’s detriment, her manager had called Mary to tell Lily that she had to be seen at the after-party with Snape.

Lily tried not to recoil at Severus’s hand on her lower back as he led her to the after-party. The cameras were blinding against the darkness of the night, but Lily let herself be led into the venue, Moody doing his best to push back against the raging crowd.

The venue only had a few selective members of the press inside, but it was little enough that it put all the celebrities at ease. There was no real food, just snacks because seeing your favorite movie star get sloshed would sell magazines and get them trending on Twitter.

Lily’s stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last full meal she had.

Severus kept a firm hand on her back. She smiled and laughed at the right times as they talked with winners from the night. A live band started and Lily’s ears rang with the loud music. She kept knocking back glasses of champagne because at least the buzz would take the edge off the hungry looks in Severus’s eyes and make her not recoil when he tried to whisper in her ear.

Her saving grace came in the form of Remus Lupin somewhere south of midnight.

She came back from the loo and purposefully walked away from where she knew Severus was waiting. The alcohol was thrumming through her veins, and she felt light. Her shoes—or Mary’s shoes—had been kicked off long ago, and she was stumbling through the crowds of famous people.

Remus stood at the picked-over snack table, probably looking for any scraps of leftover chocolate. He had been Lily’s co-star since day one and her favorite to boot. Severus hated him, mostly because Lily liked him more, but also because he was openly gay and in a long-term relationship with the model, Sirius Black, who Snape also hated.

Remus had been the reason she and James met. She also knew that where Remus was, Sirius wasn’t far, and if Sirius wasn’t far, neither was James.

And she wanted to see James more than anything.

“Boo,” she said, poking Remus’s side. The man jumped, almost dropping his chocolate-covered strawberry.

“Bloody hell, Evans,” he said. Lily laughed, already feeling better. She clumsily picked up a biscuit and took a bite.

“How’s your night been going?” she asked. Remus let out an amused huff.

“Same old, same old,” he said. “You?”

Lily didn’t respond and Remus laughed, knowing exactly how her night had been going. They grabbed a few more snacks and Lily proceeded to follow him, hoping that he would lead her to the person she needed to see.

James was sitting at a table across from Sirius, and Lily’s heart immediately started beating rapidly. His suit jacket and tie were gone, just leaving him in his tight white button-up. The top buttons were undone, hinting at his chest that Lily knew better than the back of her own hand.

The sluggish haze of the alcohol in her system reminded her of when they first met. It had been at The Hollow Hour season one wrap party, and Remus had invited James and Sirius. He had caught her eye from across the room, the curly black hair and glasses were a dangerous combination for Lily, especially with the dark jeans that had hugged his very nice arse. She was so nervous that she had had to take a shot before she walked over to have Remus introduce her.

She had taken him home and when she woke up in the morning, recovering from the best sex she had ever had in her life, she found him making breakfast for her.

He stayed the whole weekend.

Then they texted non-stop and started having dates, sitting in Lily’s apartment with take-away and cheesy movies.

And here they were, three years later, hopelessly in love, and pretending that they weren’t because her stupid television show needed promoting.

It hadn’t been meant to be a secret for so long. In the beginning, they just wanted to figure each other out without all the press breathing down their necks. It’s just how it all happened.

It wasn’t like the important people in their lives didn’t know. Their parents and most trusted friends did. And they already decided that once the whole thing with Snape stopped, they were going to go public because they wanted to move in together and finally go on real dates.

Lily saw the way he perked up when he saw her. A small smile on his lips, his shoulders moving back. There was a moment when Lily could have sworn that there were no other people in the room until someone bumped into her.

She slid into the booth beside him, not caring about how dangerous that was, especially when their legs touched.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice tugging at her in a way she missed while he was gone.

“Hey,” she replied. She could tear her eyes away from him and she didn’t know if she wanted to, either.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius said, not even jarring the couple. “Get out of here before you start shagging on the table.”

James raised his eyebrows in question, which Lily answered with a smile. He reached down for his pockets.

“I’m texting Moody,” he said.

Anticipation pooled in her stomach and as she grabbed another biscuit to eat because it was something to do, her hands shook. James placed his hands on Lily’s thigh and she couldn’t think of anything else until he leaned over and told her that Moody said it was all clear.

Even in her drunk state, she located her shoes and practically sprinted to the back door where Moody was waiting.

There were a few paparazzi pictures taken as Lily quickly hopped into the back of the SUV and Moody got into the driver’s seat. He handed her her small bag that had her phone in it that Mary had been carrying. She was too excited to even get her phone out as Moody did two laps around the block before pulling right back into the same spot.

The second James jumped in and the door was closed, Lily was on him. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her, meeting their lips in a deep, but sloppy kiss. Lily kicked her legs up onto his lap and pulled him down as laid down the best she could in the back seat. James laughed a little against her lips, causing Lily to pull away and laugh too.

“Next year, we’re going to this together,” she said, opening her eyes to see him in whatever light that shone in from the windows. She got flashes of his eyes and his wide smile as she sat up, still keeping her legs on her.

“Absolutely,” he replied, pressing a light kiss to her lips. “And we’re going to still traumatize Moody on the way home.”

Said man let out a snort. “No, I’m getting a divider.”

Lily barely remembers the rest of the car ride and getting to her flat. All she remembers is the taste of James’s lips and the feeling of his hands on her.

~~~

The blaring noise of a phone call is what made Lily wake up. She jumped violently, kicking James in the process, who let out a pained groan as Lily disentangled herself from him to be able to reach her nightstand to turn off the god-forsaken ear-splitting sound.

Her hand smacked into the nightstand, but her phone wasn’t there. She realized it must be James’s.

She nudged him and he groaned, but she could feel him move around in the bed. Finally, it stopped and James spoke.

“Hello?” he fell silent. “What are you talking about?”

Lily, who was already falling asleep again, opened her eyes at his tone and suddenly, he was shaking her.

“I’ll call you back Sirius,” James said as Lily sat up.

He hung up the call and threw his phone down on the bed. He tugged at his hair as Lily watched him with wide eyes.

“They know about us,” he said.

“What?” Lily exclaimed, reaching for his phone.

She typed in the passcode and saw the million phone calls from his manager and publicist. She opened Twitter, and right there, trending number one, was a still of James’s arm around her when she broke her shoe.

"Lily Evans, caught in a love triangle."

"Actress Lily Evans and actor James Potter are rumored to have left the BAFTA after-party together despite Evans arriving with Severus Snape."

She clicked on the first article while her stomach soured.

"Lily Evans and Severus Snape have long been rumored to have been dating, but last night’s events have seemingly squashed the rumors for good."

The article went into detail about the rumors between Lily and Severus, before finally getting to last night.

"James Potter, actor, best known in his role on the popular historical drama "Mountainside Valley', was able to catch Evans on the red carpet when her shoe broke. The footage from the cameras that were rolling by the pair has been released.

According to sources, the two are familiar with each other. Lily’s co-star, Remus Lupin is both friends with Potter and is even dating his adoptive brother Sirius Black, so we can speculate that they have met before. Based on the videos, they do seem to be familiar with each other.

What really solidified the relationship between the two actors comes from an unknown source who attended the after-party. 'She sat next to him and then a few minutes later, they left.'

Fans seem to be having a lot of mixed reactions to Evan’s alleged actions.

@snapewife45346 wrote: 'ALL LILY HAS EVER DONE IS HURT HIM. HE NEEDS TO LEAVE HER ASS FOR GOOD!!'

@snnnily394 on Twitter wrote: 'i don’t think it’s true. She would never do that to him.'

@taraisgod wrote: 'They have never said they’re in a relationship, you all are just projecting. Let her be happy!!'

@mountainbaddie wrote: 'Evans UPGRADED'

Lily set down James’s phone, unable to do anything else. She met his eyes and took a deep breath.

Her gut reaction was that it sucked. It sucked that they didn't come out on their own terms. The studio was probably pissed, or maybe they thought the bad press was good press.

But as she looked at James, sitting beside her on his side of the bed, the bed he only rarely got to occupy these days, she realized that maybe it was a blessing.

“We could deny it,” James said, a frown tugging at his lips. “Say that we’re best friends if you think that’s what the studio would want.”

Lily shook her head. “I don’t want you like a best friend. I don’t want to deny myself of you anymore.”

He smiled, soft and sweet. Lily yanked the bedsheets off of herself and crawled over to him, straddling his legs. She was only wearing a pair of knickers and one of his t-shirts. His hands immediately snuck up the shirt and caressed her hips, his thumbs teasing her panties.

“Joint statement?” he asked, as Lily leaned in. She kissed him soundly.

“In a minute,” she said, kissing him again.

[adorethedistance]

READING MY BOYFRIEND’S FANFICTION?? - Owen Joyner x Influencer!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: OMGGG!! Could you do a an Owen fic based around his girlfriend being an armature youtuber/social media influencer (shes also an actress and they met on set and have been dating for a while) and it’s “reading/reacting to my boyfriend’s fanfiction” ? You can do whatever you want with the fanfic part it’s just a concept that has been running around in my head for a while. LOVE ALL YOUR WORK!!

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, very mild

Words: 1460

A/N: A fic?? From Ace?? Hi. I’m off spring break officially and so my stress has dissipated immensely. School was becoming so much these last two weeks and I thought I’d be stressed or worried, but I’m actually fine? It’s weird lol so I decided I could be productive with my stress-free moment and post a little fic for y’all. I love this prompt, and before any of you writers panic, I’m using my own fics for the fanfictions because I wouldn’t want to put y’all on the spot like that. Also this is my 3000 post! thought that was cool lol

“Do you wanna do the intro?”

“I think I have to do the intro.”

“Okay, go for it.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out a heavy breath in exaggerated preparation for my (some would say lengthy) intro. “Hello, hi. Yes, okay, this is Y/n Y/l/n vlogs, welcome or welcome back to my channel!” Once Owen finishes his statement I’m so stunned I can’t generate any sort of response other than a slacked jaw semi smile.

“That was not even close. Do you know my intro?”

“I got the first part right!”

“You’ve lost intro privileges,” I turn back to the mess of lights and tripods in front of me and ignore the disaster of an intro Owen offered. “Oh, hello, hi! I am Y/n and this is: Reading My Boyfriend’s Fanfiction!”

“That’s basically what I did.”

“No, it is not! It’s ‘oh, hello, hi. I am ‘name’ and this is: ‘title of video’.”

“You don’t ‘welcome to my channel’?” Owen’s voice has dropped to a hushed volume as he genuinely inquires about the segments of my usual introduction.

“I do not.”

“Don’t use any of this,” he pleads when making direct eye contact with the camera. “Mister Sid. Editing Sid, please don’t embarrass me.” His pleas fall on deaf ears, knowing that I’ll be using the footage in full.

“Anyways. Butchered intro aside, I am Y/n and today I am here with my lovely “So Many Stars” costar and scene partner, Owen Joyner!”

“I’m also your boyfriend.”

“That too,” I give Owen’s pointed comment a soft place to land, “So, yesterday--it was actually like, two weeks ago, I don’t know why I said yesterday--a little while back, I came across a tweet telling me someone had written a fanfic about us-”

“Did you read it?”

“On Wattpad. Of course, I read it. There are only three chapters up right now and they’re all in the 2-3k range so it was a quick read.”

“2-3k?”

“Words,” I reply nonchalantly as I unlock my phone. I bookmarked a few one-shots beforehand for us to read, and I’m slightly cocky about my selections. Owen then responds with an outburst of shock.

“2-3 thousand words is a short read?” I merely give him a blank stare.

“Judging by that reaction, Owen hasn’t read any fanfics in his life.”

“Is that not long to you- That’s what she said.” Owen cuts me off with his own stupid joke and I briefly sigh before answering.

“No, that isn’t long. Baby, I’m here for that 130k slow burn enemies to lovers on AO3 with the ‘only one bed’ and ‘locked in a closet’ tropes.”

“The what?”

“Oh, we have so much to catch you up on.”

__________________________

“So I saved three fics, an angst, a fluff, and a smut. Which do you want to read?”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

“Oh my- okay. Angst is the sad shit, it’s what you read when you need your heartbroken and a good cry. Smut is pretty much in the name, it’s explicit content that will undoubtedly get this video demonetized, but that’s okay because we do have a sponsor. And fluff is the cute moments, domestic and sometimes mundane romance that makes you smile like an idiot and put the device down to screech into a pillow.” Throughout my whole explanation, I can tell Owen was becoming more and more lost, so I opt to give him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Let’s start with the fluff just to ease into things.”

“Smart choice. This fic I have saved is called ‘Baby Fever’ and the summary says ‘you and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own’.”

“That sounds so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll read the narration and reader’s POV, and then you’ll read your own dialogue.” Owen nods and leans over my right shoulder to read off of my computer screen.

“You actually start the fic.”

“‘You ready, little one?’” The instantaneous actor mode Owen slips into has me howling with laughter at which he looks at me confused. My gasping for air makes Owen laugh empathetically despite still being unsure as to what’s killing me at the moment.

“Why are you laughing?!” He yells, dramatically shaking my shoulder.

“Just the way you jumped into that, I wasn’t prepared for you to turn on the acting charm. Okay, uhhhh, ‘I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat’.”

The two of us go back and forth between reading the narrative, bouts of laughter, commentary on the accuracy of Owen’s character, and we finally manage to finish the 2.5k fic in about forty minutes.

“‘When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple-’.”

“‘I told you so.’”

“That was cute! I like the tie-in of having us watching over Baby Shada- or, sorry, you and ‘y/n’ watching over Baby Shada.”

“They wrote me kinda funny, I don’t think I’d ever fabricate a life to make conversation with a stranger due to baby fever.” My jaw drops slightly and before Owen can respond to my reaction, I cry,

“That is such a lie!”

“What?”

“You absolutely would do something like that, are you kidding me?!”

“No, I would not!” Owen punctuates every word with the utmost offense. He has the same look in his eye as when he was proving himself to be the cleanest phantom of the three on the Sunset Drive podcast.

“You literally told the guy at Home Depot yesterday that we were buying plants for our child’s nursery!”

“Okay, that’s different-”

“How is that different? That’s the exact same thing as fanfic you!” Owen’s furrowed brow and dropped jaw are a sight to be seen as he leans away from me, bending at the waist to stare at me with defiance. I raise my eyebrows pointedly as I await a response. Instead of actually producing a response, Owen lunges forward, grabbing my waist in his hands and squeezing gently. The feeling makes me screech and gasp of laughter from surprise and also being ticklish.

“Owen! Owe-STOP, I’m gonna drop my laptop!” I manage to say through my laughter and with one final grab, he releases me from his hold. It takes a minute for my laughter to settle but once I do, the two of us are simply breathing heavy and staring at one another with giddy smiles on our faces. In a moment’s clarity, I turn to look into the camera lens to talk directly to my editor,

“Sid, don’t use any of this. And please don’t cut to this after we finish reading to make it look like- things were happening.”

“Actually, I think you should, Sid. Just cut to right there and make the world think we-”

“OKAY, thanks for watching, bye!” I quickly stop the recording before Owen says something we’re unable to recover from. I hear him laugh gently behind me as I set my laptop down on the coffee table behind the tripod. Coming back to the couch, I move to plop down but before landing successfully on the cushion next to my phone, Owen grabs my body and moves me to sit on top of him.

“You are crazy, you know that?”

“Hmm. Crazy for you, maybe.” His cheesy line makes me scoff but smile nonetheless. I reach my right hand up to caress the side of his face as we sit cheek to cheek.

“Remind me to never film with you again.” The gesture is sweet and the sentiment is not which makes Owen laugh and he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. I lean back into him so my back is pressed flush with his chest as he lazily wraps both arms around me.

“You say that now but you’ll regret it when you wanna do a ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ challenge video.”

“Nah. I’ll just call Charlie to-” Without allowing me to finish my sentence, Owen is digging his fingertips back into the tissue of my sides and I squeal with laughter once more. This time the torment is short-lived and Owen releases me after a sweet, reconciling kiss. “Do you have baby fever now?”

“It was cute and all, but not really, no.”

“That’s too bad,” I stand up from my spot on his lap to grab my computer and hold it to my chest, “I was gonna say we could practice some baby-making.”

And with that, I turned on the balls of my feet, heading for my bedroom when I heard Owen stand up eagerly, quick to follow.

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell@n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki@vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

[nevermindirah]

part 3, "Kid": How every character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood relates to the main character, Nile Freeman

Stop writing people calling Nile "kid" 2k4ever

Andy calls Nile a baby one time, minutes after first dreaming of her. Andy then calls Nile "kid" three times, all to her face, all in the first few hours of their acquaintance. Booker calls Nile "kid" once, on the porch outside the bar. That's it. The context for these lines is super interesting, and calling Nile "kid" in fic doesn’t make any sense without the original context.

When Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker wake up from first dreaming of Nile, Joe and Nicky immediately start sharing facts they noticed, and Joe starts sketching. Booker is in his feelings but he contributes a few things to the saying-facts-out-loud rally.

Andy is 100% in her feelings. She starts the conversation with "No, not another one." Then once the boys have gathered a bunch of facts and Booker says "I felt her die" Andy comes in with this:

Andy: [stares at nothing straight ahead, voice is remote, detached.] She’s a Marine. [Joe and Nicky look up together.] Combat. Or near combat duty. Afghanistan. [Shakes her head slowly, wearily.] It’s been over two hundred years. [Whispers, anguished, buries head in hands.] Why now?

Got it. Joe and Nicky are the competent soldiers, Booker is the semi-competent drunk, Andy is the boss. Andy is the fucking depressed boss. It's in this context that Andy, having analyzed the information her direct reports just gave her, made the determination that Nile is a Marine in Afghanistan, and let her team have a brief back-and-forth about whether to change their plan to go retrieve the new one before announcing the decision that is ultimately hers to make, refers to Nile as a baby.

Andy: Get to France. Use the Charlie safe house. I’ll meet you there. [Joe examines his sketch, blows pencil-dust off it. She stares at Booker.] Find Copley. [Joe tears out the page and hands her the sketch. Andy stares at it.] Jesus. She’s just a baby.

Andy's metric fuckton of I AM BEYOND DONE just leaps off the page/screen. Keep that existential exhaustion in mind as we see her early interactions with Nile.

Nile: [stands, panting, regards Andy suspiciously.] Who are you? Andy: I lead a group of immortals. An army, I guess. Soldiers. Fighters like you. [softer tone.] Look... [Andy steps toward her; Nile steps back.] You’ve got questions, kid. I get it. [tiny smile, small nod.] You want answers? Get back in the car.

Andy: [lightly] And I was the one who cut your throat. Right? [stares at Nile, who stares back, then looks away; she has no answer for that.] Listen, kid. You already believe in... [points upward, follows it with her eyes.] You should just keep following that illogic. [Pulls her jacket over her shoulders as a blanket, turns on her right side, back to Nile, lies on the pile of duffel-bags like a reclining chair.] You’re already on board with the supernatural. [Speaks with eyes already closed; it makes no difference to her.] If I were you, I’d get some sleep.

[Nile stands slowly, glaring at Andy, sets her body as she prepares to continue the fight.] Andy: You really want to do this, kid? [Andy’s eyes are bright, her expression relaxed but anticipating; she looks like she thinks this will be fun.]

Andy is looking at this retrieval mission as something that must be done, but quickly and with as little disruption as possible to her team's ongoing mission to find Copley and protect themselves from exposure. And then here comes Nile Freeman, competent as hell, taking no shit, questioning everything, stabbing her and escaping a moving vehicle and just fucking fighting her at every turn.

"Jfc kid will you just get in the goddamn car" feels pretty reasonable in that context, yeah? At least from Andy's perspective. From Nile's, you're fucking right you're gonna ask some goddamn questions before getting on a drug-smuggling plane with someone who just shot you in the head.

It's worth noting that Andy doesn't precisely say "jfc kid will you just get in the goddamn car" — she says "I need you to get back in the car please." She says "can you please not do that again" when Nile fucking stabs her. She's exhausted and frustrated and just trying to get through this and back to her main mission, and from what we see of her so far she's generally gruff as a person, but she's not an asshole, and she’s really showing Nile some respect here, all things considered. I mean, imagine being this polite when someone stabs you. This is a tired adult trying to get another tired adult on board with a sensible plan.

Andy: Argh! [Andy grabs Nile’s knife hand.] Fuck! [throws it violently aside, forcing Nile back a step. With the knife still in her, Andy sighs deeply and looks at Nile. Nile recovers her balance and stares that Andy is hardly reacting to having a knife in her.] Can you please [grabs the knife with left hand, yanks it out] not do that again? [throws the knife on the ground.]

Once they fight on the plane, Andy never calls her kid again. Andy is already starting to regain some of the energy her long life has worn away from her after just 10 minutes on screen with Nile. Andy went into this retrieval determined to be someone Nile can rely on, and that still stands, but by the time they’re in France she’s realizing she’ll come to be able to rely on Nile too. She introduces her to the boys as Nile and that's that.

The only other time we hear the word "kid" in the entire movie is near the end, outside the bar with Booker.

Nile: Yeah. [takes a breath.] Talked to Copley. Said he could fix it. Make it look like I was killed in action. [nods gently to herself] My family will mourn, but, uh... [tiny shrug, head-shake.] ...they’ll be able to move on. It’s just like what we did with my dad. [sighs. Turns to look out over the water. Voice wavers.] I just really want to hear my mom’s voice one more time. Booker: [looks down, pauses, turns to lean next to Nile.] You’re a good kid, Nile. [looks at her, speaks earnestly.] You’re gonna be great for the team.

Sébastien le Livre, whose greatest tragedy is that his children disbelieved and rejected his love for them, would be very moved by Nile's concern and love for her mother. "You're a good kid, Nile," in the sense that she's honoring her parent in a way he, a bereaved parent, appreciates.

There's also the fun shippy reading that he's preemptively friend-zoning her because there's about to be several lifetimes between him and spending any more time with this woman he was having an obvious "oh no she's hot" reaction to over dinner in Goussainville, but I, a feral BoN shipper, like the first reading even better.

But the point is, calling Nile "kid" is an element of the movie that says a lot about the characters using that word. When it gets repeated in fanfiction, it says something about the author.

If you're reading this and reflecting "oh shit I wrote the team calling Nile kid without thinking about it at all beneath the surface" I have a really cool suggestion for you: just edit it. Or at least consider not doing it again. We all make mistakes. We all run with things that we pick up in canon or see in other people's fic that seem funny and harmless, and once we think about those things more deeply we might find that actually it's kinda fucked up, or not what canon was trying to say, or fine on the surface but not fine if it becomes The One True Fanon. Having characters who are either white, men, or both call the adult protagonist who's a young Black woman "kid" all the time carries a weight to it. Please let's let that weight fall off Nile's fully-grown shoulders.

Next up, orders, suggestions, assistance, and other flavors of mentoring Nile and/or telling her what to do. Credit and appreciation to StarWatcher for transcribing the movie here on AO3, all my line quotes are pulled from there.

[yourgoldengirls]

Lonely

Pairing: Rick Grimes x F!Reader

Summary: After the fall of the prison, the reader finds herself alone with baby Judith mourning her family while trying to survive.

Warnings: angst, fluff

W/C: 3360

Ao3

A/N: Yes, I am writing this while there is a HUGE list of assignments that I am currently ignoring. Please enjoy my attempt of failing college. If you like it, please reblog and leave a comment. This is my first time writing fanfiction so I am open to criticism, but I am also a sucker for compliments. English is not my first language so if there is any mistakes please let me know.

--

She doesn’t remember ever feeling so lonely.

Of course, before all this she was always alone, living in her small apartment in the city and working in her cubicle.

But now, as she sits in an abandoned car in the middle of the desert road with the baby in her arms, she feels lonely.

Before, she didn’t know what was like to have a family, to care and rely on someone, to share your fears and joy and journey with people that care deeply about you.

So yes, before she was alone. But she wasn’t lonely. She wasn’t missing anything.

You can’t miss what you never had.

Now, while she is scare and hungry in the middle of the apocalypse holding an already asleep Judith, she feels lonely.

Now she misses her family.

She misses Carl’s laugh and jokes, and the way he would always come to her when he wanted to talk about his fears or when he wanted help to prank his father.

She misses Maggie and their late night talks in the guard tower while they were keeping watch (their apocalypse sleepover, as they like to call) when they would just pretend to be two friends in the normal world gossiping about the neighbors and boyfriends with Beth.

She misses Daryl and his shy demeanor, how he always would hunt for them even when they already had food enough as a way of showing he cares without having to say it.

She misses Glenn and his sweetness, the way he would always make sure she ate something before taking shifts clearing the fence. The way he took care of her as she was his little sister, since he found her in one of his runs back in Atlanta and toke her to the camp without questions.

She misses Michonne and her sass, they afternoon training and how she never lets anyone touch her katana but agreed in showing her how to use it.  

But most of all she misses Rick.

God, she misses him so much it hurts.

Their relationship was complicated at first.

Back in Atlanta, they became friends. When he showed up, she had already formed a strong bond with Carl, so it made sense she would also become close to his parents. Lori had always trusted her with Carl when she was not around (a.k.a in the woods screwing Shane) so the boy started seeing her as a source of comfort and protection.

When he was shot back in the farm, she was by his side every day, reading and playing games until he was strong enough to leave the room.

She held him when they found out about Sofia. Dried his tears when he cried at night. She was always with him while his parents were dealing with their broken marriage.

When they lost the farm and went back in the road, she would take care of him, giving him her food and coat at night. With Lori pregnant, Rick was always looking after her, giving her his food and making sure she and the baby wore the safest they could be in the apocalypse, with monsters everywhere, so she took upon her to worry about Carl.

Rick was constantly worried about the baby, starting to lose his mind trying to find a solution to keep everyone safe. But there is so much a man can do at the end of the world.  

So, one night when everybody was sleeping and he was up keeping watch, he broke down.

--

She was laying next to Carl, holding the boy, and trying to keep him warm the best she could. The others were already asleep, but she could never keep her eyes close these days. Always worried she would never open then again.

So when she heard sniffing noises she knew it was Rick, the only one awake besides her.

Carefully not to disturb the kid sleeping next to her, she stood up and when to sit next to him.

"Hey"

Rick look at her and gave her a small smile, too tired to try and hide his tears from her.

"Wanna talk about?"

He just kept looking at her and sigh. Looking at him up closely, she saw how exhausted he looked. He was thinner, his hair and beard were longer, and his eyes had dark circles around. She knew she didn’t look much better.

"I’m scared." he whispered so quietly that if she weren’t so close, she wouldn’t be able to hear it. "Everybody is counting on me and I just.. I don’t know what to do. I’m disappointing everyone."

In that moment she looked at him and she swore he never locked so small. So unsure of himself. The strong and forceful leader of the group was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, that’s not true. We all know that you are doing your best." she told him, eager to comfort him, to take him away from those demons that was starting to craw up on his shoulders.

"What do you do when your best is not good enough?" he asks her looking so lost, hoping that she had the answers to all his questions and could fix him somehow.

She then took his wands and forced him to turn and face her, to look her in the eyes, hoping that what she had to say next could penetrate his skin and comfort him best if he had all his attention fixed on her.

"We are going to be okay, Rick. As long as we are together, we are going to be okay. We’re going to figure it out. I promise."

He just looked at her and smile, squeezing her hand but didn’t let go.

"Plus, you are going to have another baby soon. Can’t go around losing all hope now, right?  If anything, we have to try harder." she tries to bring his mind in something to look forward to, something to keep going.

"Is not my baby." he says and she is more confuse than ever.

"What?"

"Is Shane’s baby." he says and his voice is so small that she thinks that she heard wrong, but the look in his face tells her she didn’t.

"Oh, Rick.."

She then takes his face in her hands and he cries harder, letting his face fall to her shoulders while she holds him.

She holds him until his tears dry, then his head movers from her shoulders to her lap and he closes his eyes while she plays with his hair until he falls asleep.

They found the prison two days later and he hugged her so hard she thought her ribs were going to break.

--

After that night, they became closer and closer. Like Carl, he starts to look for her when in need of comfort and reassurance. They would be constantly talking and making plans for update the prison, going on runs together and always having each other’s backs.

When Lori died giving birth, she didn’t allow herself to cry. The moment Maggie show up with the baby in her arms and Carl with that devastated look in his face, she knew she had to be strong for them. The tree of them.

So while Rick was grieving, she was taking care of his kids. Judith would be in her arms constantly and Carl was always on her toes. She notices that the boy was trying to hold back in front of everyone, so at night she would always bring the kids to her cell and hold a crying Carl while Judith was sleeping.

When Rick showed up looking like himself again, he came to her while she was feeding Judith. He sat besides her and watched the baby girl like she was some sort of angel in the middle of a battlefield. Too pure for this world. He then looked at her and she smiled at him and told him that it was going to be okay.

And he believed her.

After that it was natural that they would gravitate towards each other. She was taking care of his kids after all, and he was so lost that it was disorientating. The whole world was a blur, and she was the only thing keeping him grounded. She became his rock.

Every time he saw her talking with Carl, making sure he was eating, playing with him in at attempt of bringing him some sort of childhood, he felt like he could breath again. When she was holding Judith, feeding, and singing to her, he felt the ache in his chest decreasing.

Every time she would hug him, smile at him, or do anything as looking at his direction, he felt like she was the only thing holding his head above water, the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Piece by piece she collected him.

So it wasn’t a surprise when one day their hugs started to last longer, when the kisses on the cheek moved closer and closer to the mouth, when the gazes became silent conversations.

Everyone notice they pinning around each other but they knew that it was all that was going to be. Both too afraid and feeling too guilty to act on whatever was going on between them.

They needed to take things slow. It wasn’t fair to any of them to jump into something so soon after Lori’s death. It wasn’t fair to Lori, Rick, Carl. It wasn’t fair to her. So they needed time.

But that’s the thing with living in the end of the world. Time is a luxury. A privilege that you can’t really count on.

When the prison fell the only thing in her mind wore the kids. She couldn’t remember who had Judith, where Carl was, she couldn’t find anybody. She was starting to panic when she saw Judith placed on the baby chair on the floor, seconds from being eaten by a walker.

She quickly picked her up and ren as fast as she could. She ren so much until her legs started to give up. She didn’t have time to think about anything else. She just had to take her out of there.

Now she doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t know how long is been since she left the prison. She doesn’t know if anybody else is alive, and if they are, she knew she will never find them again. She is scare and have no idea how she is gonna keep her and Judith safe.

Up until this moment, she been living from fruits and some cans she found in some abandoned cabins she crossed along the way. But she is getting weaker. She can’t really hunt without a proper weapon and a baby in her arms. She tried going in the city to scavenge some stores for food to Judith, but she was only able to collect a few things before the baby started crying and attracted walkers from every ware. After that she gave up on that idea and started looking for some place safe enough to spend a few days so she and Judith could have a proper rest.

She never allows herself to sleep when she stops to rest, afraid to wake up surrounded by walkers. So when Judith wakes up, she feeds her with the formula that is left and starts walking again. At this point she doesn’t even feel the pain in her legs anymore, is like her body is moving by himself, she is numb.

Judith seems to understand that something is wrong, never complaining, even when she is tired of being carried all the time, and when she is hungry she just pulls her hair, seeming to understand that making noises is too dangerous. Being a baby born in this world, Judith sems to have a different way of behaving that any other babies that she was ever seen. She is still to young to speak, but she makes the cute little noises as if she were trying to communicate, making the woman smile every time and pretend that she is understanding every “word”.

She is immersed in one of her conversations with Judith when she sees the sign. Stopping suddenly, she reads again and again, as if the words would change the minute she looked away and it would be all a projection of her imagination.

But it wasn’t.

So she starts running.

Even though she has her doubts about the existence of an actual sanctuary in this new world, she must check. Is the only scrum of hope after so long. And even if the said sanctuary exists, there is no guaranty that is run by good people. At this point, she has already learned to not trust the living.

So as she starts to get closer and closer to Terminus, she slows her pace not to dry attention before she has the opportunity to check the place.

But then suddenly there is an explosion and gun shots.

She holds Judith closer and tries to hide in a place that allows her to see what is happening but there is too much smoke, so she decides to stay there until is over. Even if there are good people in this place, there is not much help she can provide in this situation with a baby in her arms, and no gun. So she waits and waits until there is no more gun shots.

Judith is surprisingly calm during all this, so she decides is safe to get out of the hidden place and try to see what is going on. All kinds of things go though her mind as she walks towards a little commotion of people walking in direction of the woods, away from Terminus. She is mostly scare of crossing the way of bad people, but she has to see, the seed of hope never living her chest as she goes in direction of the first group of people that she encountered since the fall of the prison.

Maybe they are good people. Maybe they will welcome the lonely woman with the baby in her arms and offer her a place in their group. It will never be the same as being with her group, her family, but at least she would be safe, Judith would be safe.

Or maybe they are awful people and she is about to face another nightmare, another demonstration of what hell is like in the hands of the living, and all hope will be crushed again in front of her eyes.

Of all the things passing trough her mind, finding her family was definitely not one of them. Not once she thought that they wore alive and she would see them again.

At first, she thought that she was seeing things, maybe she was delirious. After all, how long can a person live without enough among of water, food and sleep and still expect to have a healthy function mind? She was going insane, that was definitely it.

But then she saw Daryl running towards Carol and everyone’s faces of surprise and relief and there was no way her mind could create that. Daryl running to hug someone? Not even her delirious mind could made that up.

She stood there paralyzed, trying to ground herself into believing that this was actually her family standing in front of her, when Judith cries draws everyone’s attention to her.

Next thing she knew Rick was running in her direction with Carl in his toes and she was being engulfed with the tightest hug she ever received in her life. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions and everything around her was Rick. The smells, the touches, she couldn’t see or think about anything that wasn’t him. After so many days, weeks (was it months? She stop counting so long ago) without knowing if he was dead, alive or something in between, she didn’t know which emotion was stronger. Relief, joy, surprise, love?

When Carl join them in the hug, she starts crying and they all fall to their knees on the ground. It was too much. Knowing that both kids were safe and in her arms was more than she could ever wish for. Her main goal during all this was to keep them safe, and to spend all this time in the road thinking that she had failed, that Carl was gone and she didn’t do anything about it was killing her more quickly than the lack of food or water ever could. Knowing now that he was alive was like receiving a tank of oxygen deep in the ocean, she could suddenly breath again.

When Rick pull back to look in her eyes her smile couldn’t be brighter.

"Sweetheart, is that you? Is it really you?"

When did she became sweetheart?  

He starts to caress her face and kiss her tears away with such tenderness that she starts crying even harder. He then smiles and takes Judith of her arms as Carl takes his place, hugging her like she was the last parachute in a plane crash.

"Oh, my baby.. I thought I lost you." she says in the most maternally way there is, while caressing the boy’s hair. "You are never leaving my side again."

The boy then laughs, and her smile grows because oh, how she missed that laugh, and everything falls into place.

"Yes, ma’am." the boy says full of joy and hints of laughs on his smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, honey." she says. "So very much."

They get up when the rest of the group starts to approach them, each member with smiles bigger than their faces, hugging her tighter than ever before.

Then Carl take Judith in his arms and Rick starts walking towards her again, holding her face with both hands and pressing their foreheads together. He closes his eyes and smiles before pressing a kiss in her lips and she is suddenly seeing stars.

Nothing could prepare her for this moment, not every novel she once read or the songs she used to listen. There was not one thing that was ever written about love that could describe this feeling. She wasn’t even sure if she could call it love.

It was stronger.

It was the kind of thing that would get you through anything, this feeling was the most powerful thing on earth, she was sure of that. With their mouths pressed against each other, she was sure that the only thing allowing her to breath was his lungs and his blood was only circling in his body due to her heartbeat.

They were one soul in two bodies.

She entangles her fingers in his messy hair and smiles in the middle on the kiss, making him smile as well as they break the kiss.

"I can’t believe this is real. You are here, and.. and Judith is here." he then looks at her with so much admiration in his eyes that she feels shy all the sudden. "You kept my daughter safe."

"Of course I did." she’s mine too.

"I guess I should have known." he than laughs. "You’ve been protecting my kids since day one. You are like the mama bear of the apocalypse."

She than laughs and shoves him playfully.

"I am not!"

"You are, you totally are." they laugh together as she shakes her head.

"He’s right, you totally are." Carl says and she is suddenly remained that they are not alone, and that he saw her kissing his father. But she doesn’t have time to be afraid of what he might think because when she looks at him, he has the biggest smile on his face.

Rick then takes her hand and kisses her knuckles; love is his eyes and she know that her face must mirror his.

"What now?" she asks him.

"Now.. we survive."

In that moment she knows she will never fell lonely again. She found her family, her kids, her love. She was home.

[you-show-me-love]

Flysta

Gallavich One Shot

Summary: Ian and Mickey assemble IKEA furniture. It goes as well as you think.

My first venture into Gallavich fanfiction. Enjoy!

"Fuck that place man, I'd rather go back to prison than step into that Swedish Shithole ever again."

Ian stared at the back of his husband's neck, which had been tinged red with rage since this morning. If there wasn't a couple feet of unassembled furniture between them he would have kissed the flushed skin. 

"Come on, it wasn't that bad." Ian countered, trying to mollify Mickey's quick temper. Mickey turned his head and Ian caught sight of the raised eyebrow that indicated his husband deemed what he said to be the most stupid fucking thing he'd ever heard.

"Motherfucker." Mickey said it as if it was a codeword to a top secret tirade Ian should understand. Ian only smiled and kept the long boxes stable as Mickey climbed the stairs up to their apartment.

"We were in there for three fuckin hours. And you didn't even let me swipe some meatballs!"

"She was a kid-"

"She had like twenty fucking meatballs Ian she wouldn't have missed a few!"

A curious head popped out from behind a door near the stairwell and upon seeing her loud Southside neighbors, rolled her eyes and pulled her head back into her own apartment. Ian held his breath for a split second, but Mickey hadn't noticed the brief audience. If he had Ian would probably have to talk to the building manager...again.

"Between what Kev and V let us take and this shelf we should have no reason to go back there ever again."

"Good. Fuck IKEA."

Arriving at their front door Mickey set down his side of the box and raised his middle finger at the offensive furniture, then put that same middle finger right in Ian'a face. 

"And fuck you for forcing me to drive an hour to fucking Schaumburg."

Mickey was only getting louder and while Ian liked him loud and mouthy their neighbors didn't seem to enjoy it as much. 

"Alright you big baby, let's get this inside."

Mickey unlocked the front door and picked up his end of the box, backing up and leading Ian into their living room space. It was looking better in here, more full. Kev and V were willing to part with a dresser and most of their kitchen. The crib flashed in Ian's mind for a moment. He hoped Lip remembered to pick it up and take it with him to Tami's parent's place. If Lip doesn't make use of it with his potential second kid maybe Mickey will come around it. 

But that's definitely not a conversation for today.

"Why couldn't we just buy one already built?" Mickey asked, pulling a pocket knife out of his sock and stabbing it into the crease of cardboard, slicing cleanly through the tape holding the box together. 

"Fuck if I know. Would probably cost more." 

Ian pulled out big white slabs of wood along with little baggies of connecting pieces. Mickey grabbed the instructions and flipped through the thin pages making a sound of intrigue and biting his lip. 

Ian wondered if the back of his neck was still red, if he could still feel the heat of if he pressed his lips just above Mickey's collar.

"Its just pictures."

Ian, having finished removed the pieces of the shelf from the box, stood and smiled teasingly. 

"Wow so even you can read it."

"Fuck you smartass." Mickey drawled, eyes dancing over the instructions. Ian came around behind his grumpy husband to find his neck holding a pink-ish hue and he finally got to plant a kiss on it before he hooked his chin over Mickey's shoulder and stared down at the rudimentary drawings. He only absorbed one or two images before Mickey tossed the instructions across the room. 

"Alright lets get building bitch."

-

Mickey was writhing under a strong ginger body, panting heavily against the hand over his mouth. Ian pressed his chest against his husband more forcefully.

"Baby-"

A fist appeared in Ian's peripheral and he managed to pin it down before it collided with his temple. He grunted and wrapped his legs tighter over Mickey's legs, knowing those strong thighs could unseat him if Mickey got smart. Ian's palm was wet with condinced breath and spit as Mickey unleashed his verbal fury into it.

"Mickey, we need to keep it down. Can you just calm down please?"

Mickey, having tossed the instructions aside and just started putting shit together, had cracked a board in half trying to force it into place. The temper tantrum that ensued had Ian fearing to find the police knocking at their door. Mickey could have gotten away with the outburst in the Southside, but on the Westside they were likely to find themselves in violation of their parole any minute.

His husband's burning blue eyes dimmed with resignation and, after a moment of hesitation, he pulled his hand away. Ian stared into those eyes, running his thumb across Mickey's cheek, feeling his jaw go slack under his palm at the gentle soothing motion. Unable to resist the slight part in Mickey's lips Ian leaned in for a kiss that Mickey begrudgingly returned. When they parted Mickey's eyes were rimmed red and watery making Ian's heart ache.

Abruptly the smaller man was pushing Ian off of him and standing, Ian following half a beat behind. He tried to make eye contact but Mickey kept his head down as he collected his jacket and boots.

"Mickey." Ian tried, knowing already it wouldn't keep Mickey here with him. He watched Mickey walk out the front door.

-

The sound of pulling tape roused Ian from sleep. He turned over to find the space next to him in bed as empty as it had been when he laid down. With a groan he rose from the mattress on the floor and walked down the short hallway into the living room where he found Mickey wrapping a roll of duct tape around the piece he had broken hours ago. 

"Hey." He offered quietly, a tentative olive branch in the wake of heightened emotions. 

"Hey sugartits. Good job on this." Mickey tilted his head toward the completed shelf, which wasn't that hard to assemble once Ian followed the directions. It was only missing the shelf Mickey broke, the shelf Mickey was now mending with duct tape, with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Ian watched Mickey rip the tape off the role, sealing the break as best as he could. Gingerly he placed it into the frame where it instantly began to bow in the middle. The shelf wouldn't be able to hold any weight, but Ian's chest swelled with pride at their finished project and the smile his husband was sending his way.

"Come here." 

Mickey's long strides had him in Ian's arms in no time, head cradled in splayed fingers and smiling lips brushing together. 

"I think my handyman deserves a handy for all that good work he did." Mickey teased, fingers dipping into the elastic band of Ian's boxers. 

"Fuck yeah he does."

The broken shelf was in two again by the next morning, but neither man could be bothered by the imperfection. They made use of what they had built together, imperfections and all.

Also on Ao3!

[dragonseattofu]

Spaces Between My Fingers (NEO TWEWY fanfiction)

Summary: Neshiki NEO reunion. NEO TWEWY spoilers. Everyday for two years after Neku’s disappearance, Shiki sits behind Hachiko talking to what looks like herself, her hand securely in another that she can feel but can’t see. Warnings for depression and panic attacks. Check source content for Ao3 link.

Preview:

“Great work on the presentation Misaki-san!”

“Excellent job as always Misaki-san! Have a wonderful evening!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the outpouring of compliments from her staff as they filed out of the conference room. It was her last meeting of the day, and she was exhausted. Never in a million years could she have imagined being the youngest CEO of any clothing company, much less her own brand at the age of eighteen. But, being young didn’t make the responsibilities of a trending brand owner any less tiring. On the bright side, the remainder of the evening was all hers to spend at her own pace.

With that in mind, Shiki gathered her laptop and papers under her arm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her messenger bag from the coat rack in her office, pulled the keys from the front pocket, and said a habitual goodnight into the empty space before locking the office for the night.

The soft tapping of rubber on carpet filled the empty hallway on her way to the elevator, the sounds of mindess instrumental music soothed her tired nerves on her voyage down from the eight floor. Slow clicking of gears moving, and the opening the heavy metal doors woke her from her stupor, gesturing light apologies on her way out as more bodies piled into the elevator.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she finally reached the ground level, going westward toward the neighborhood coffee shop where she’s a regular, and the barista started mixing her drink before she could even fish out her wallet. Condensation on the side of the plastic cup collected at her fingertips, leaving a wet smudge on the door as she exited, her sneakered shoes guiding her in the direction of a statue, faithfully waiting for his master that will never come.

Shiki takes a seat behind Hachiko, and looks down at her watch. 19:01. She chuckles, she’s a minute late. She pops an earbud in her ear, and rests her right hand, palm up, on the side of the seat next to her, and waits. She takes another sip of her drink, licking her lips, savoring the overly sweet beverage on the verge of crystallization.

A couple walks by talking about dinner plans, and a group of female students discussing Prince’s recent social media posts pass by as well. A shiba stops in front of her, tilting its head to the side for a brief moment, almost as if he sees something that others can’t, before his owner tugs him along.

Her breath catches and she waits for a split second before she feels a slight shift in the wind around her, an even lighter pressure on her palm. She exhaled, relishing the feel of the spaces between her fingers filling, and she smiled.

“So, I had another productive meeting today....”

She speaks for about an hour into the wind about how her day went, what her last conversation with Eri was like, even about her new not inanimate pet, Mrs. Mew. From afar, most people think she’s talking to herself, those closer assume she’s on the phone. Little do they know that they are both wrong, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming to Hachiko everyday, and speaking into the void as if she’s carrying on a conversation with a long lost friend.

She’s not exactly sure when she started doing this, but it became her way of, well, grieving. After a couple months of blissful dating, getting to know one another outside the confines of a death game, she had sort of … fallen in love.

Only for that love to be suddenly ripped from her with nothing left but a note, from a not so helpful composer. The first couple of days were devastating, she didn’t leave her bed, she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The weeks thereafter weren’t much better. Eri, and Rhyme were constantly by her side, making sure she didn’t end up in the hospital for malnuritionment. Beat showed up soon after to smack some sense into her, mostly figuratively.

Beat slammed open her bedroom door, Eri and Rhyme trailing behind yelling at him to calm down. His usual sympathetic expression was replaced with one of impatience and frustration.

“Shiki, enough of this. Get up and go eat somethin’!”

An empty gaze was his only response. He growled, stomping into her room and ripped open the curtains, beams of sunlight showering her floor, her bed, her listless face. In the light he could see that she lost a significant amount of weight in such a short period of time. She was already lean before, now her face began to look sunken in from the starvation and constant darkness. Beat suddenly felt another overwhelming wave of emotion sweep over him.

“This is ridiculous, girl, ya can’t keep goin’ like this or you’ll…” He choked up; he didn’t complete his thought; he just couldn’t. Rhyme and Eri lunged forward to try and hold back the blonde as he grabbed Shiki by the front of her shirt, pulling their faces closer, glaring at her with an intensity he didn’t think he would ever use on her.

Her world shook as droplets fell onto Shiki’s glasses. She could feel Beat shaking from his grasp, his usually clear cerulean eyes were stormy, almost like the sky had broken. A lump formed in her throat. She forgot through her heartbreak that other people might also feel the same pain she was feeling. Sure, she was his first partner, but Beat was also his partner too.

For a tense moment nobody moved, Beat stared into Shiki’s eyes hoping to get his message across wordlessly, Eri and Rhyme holding onto Beat on both sides to restrain him. She had every right to grieve and her pain was more than he could ever imagine, but Beat needed her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was there for her, if she would let him. He couldn’t afford to lose her before he got the chance to save him.

Ever so slowly, Shiki moved her one hand over Beat’s. She grabbed a fistful of his jersey in her other hand. For that excruciating week, she went from feeling anxious and depressed to just numb. Now she felt relieved that there was someone else who understood this persistent gnawing ache in her chest. Brotherly simpleton Beat wasn’t being sympathetic to her heartache, but rather empathetic in her mourning.

Her face started to prickle, as the wells that had dried up started to free fall again. She moved to grab Beat, nestling her head into his chest and just … cried. He rested his large hand on her head and hugged her tightly, supporting each other in this moment of catharsis. They stayed like that until Shiki passed out again.

When she came too, Beat, Eri and Rhyme stayed with her that day to make sure she consumed something.

Sometime in the afternoon, Eri decided to attack Beat to get some measurements for a pants design. Big muscular Beat hiding behind tiny Rhyme who was doing little to nothing to protect her older brother from the teen designer wielding a measuring tape going too close for comfort to his ... particular body parts. Shiki graced them all with a smile none of them saw in days.

Big brother Beat decided to have all his meals with her that day forward. Eri said that she could handle this, and found him to be a nuisance, but he didn’t care. Slowly Shiki’s appetite and strength returned, more places ventured outward, even the whirling of her bobbins clicking could be heard throughout the house.

Everytime she had a relapse, a brief moment of chest-tightening, her breath catching, she’d reach out and Beat would be there, embracing her until the panic attack subsided.

With her good days and her bad days, Shiki decided to go back to school after taking a month of absence. Eri got her back into the sewing club, pelting her with designs to keep her busy. The distraction was helpful, almost becoming necessary.

Sometimes she’d go to the skate park, sitting on the bench watching Beat and Rhyme do ollies in front of a setting sun. She would sketch out pieces inspired by the skaters, a little black cat signature adorning each one. Rhyme uploaded some of her designs and completed outfits on a popular social media platform, and named it Gatto Nero with her permission. Sooner than later, Shiki had a following of over one thousand, then five, then over ten approaching twenty. It also helped that her best friend was an influencer and modeled everything Shiki made.

Before anyone knew it, Shiki was approached by the founder of Jupiter of the Monkey, who was impressed by her work, and offered her an intern position while she was still in school. With more tasks to keep her busy, everyday slipped by faster and faster, and the relapses became more infrequent.

A year had passed since his disappearance, and Shiki never really forgot, more so distracted herself with other things to keep her busy on a day like today. After classes, Shiki would go to her internship to work on a couple of assignments and with her last meeting with her supervisor over, she headed out to catch the train home.

She slowed her pace down when she passed the 104 building, mindlessly loitering near the window displays to check out the trends. The Scramble Crossing was busy as usual, and she found herself wandering closer and closer to the statue of Hachiko.

Shiki stared at the bronze canine, her mind drifting to the promise she made quite a long time ago. Realizing she wasn’t in a rush to go home anyway, she took a seat behind the statue.

“Well Neku,” she hesitated, having not uttered his name in almost a year, “it looks like I didn’t keep my promise to be here everyday waiting for you to come back.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She could feel her anxiety bubble in her throat, like digging at a wound that had scabbed over and was threatening to bleed out again. Thinking of him was painful, but she realized then that they did have a lot of memories, wonderful, happy memories that she had forgotten in her grief. Memories that were hers to hold onto for as long as she wanted them. Shiki could feel her heartbeat slowing down, the tension in her body subsiding ever so slightly.

“I hope that you’re alright somewhere out there,” she said into the open space in front of her, “I-I miss you.”

Just then a slight touch graced her hands on her lap, but when she looked up, no one was there. The ticking of the crosswalk signs, the pattering of shoes on asphalt, and the shouts of last minute sales continued on as if time and sound hadn’t stopped for a moment. Not exactly sure what she was doing, Shiki raised her hand out in front of her, and a second later, she felt a resistance, an air of familiarity filling the spaces between her fingers effortlessly.

Shiki jumped up in surprise, her bag holding Mr. Mew clattering to the floor before whispering, “...Neku?”

An invisible thumb tapped the back of her hand lightly. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was probably in the UG, but for some reason, she could tell he was standing right in front of her.

She sobbed, “Is that really you ---?”

“Shiki! Why ya cryin’? What happened, yo?”

The connection was lost as Beat skated up to her, visibly concerned, looking for some clue as to why his best friend was crying in public. He pulled out a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his back pocket, a gift from Rhyme that came in handy more times than he thought it would.

Shiki continued to stare at the open space, trying to make sense of what had just happened, grasping for what she thought was remnants of a lost love, but the sensation was gone. Whatever was there, it wasn’t there anymore. Even if he was in the game, she shouldn’t have been able to touch anything in the UG. Her mind raced with different jumbled thoughts. What was that? How did that happen? Why now?

“Earth to Shiki!” Beat waved his hand in front of her, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at him, accepted the handkerchief and dried her tears. Whatever that was, talking about it would only land her another session at the doctor's office. She knew Beat would believe her, but after her long painful year of recovery that he had witnessed, she doubted he would be open to the thought of dredging that wound up again.

Shiki didn’t trust her words, so instead she reached over and hugged him. Without hesitation, Beat returned the gesture. When her sobs had subsided, he gently asked, “let’s bounce?”

In an overprotective brotherly way, he kept his arm around her shoulders after retrieving her bag from the floor.

“Yeah.”

The next morning, Shiki found the day dragging on. She was on autopilot at school, and her assignments at her internship were more clerical in nature, requiring very little brain power. Anything not immediately due would be tomorrow’s problem.

She rushed out of the office building, crossed the scramble and stopped in front of the metal statue. Shiki held her breath as she sat down exactly where she was yesterday. Her muscles tensed as she inhaled deeply.

“So I might be losing my mind, and everyone will think I’m crazy but if you are here, if-if you’re really still here, I’d want you to know that … I miss you Neku.”

For an agonising moment, nothing happened. She wasn’t really sure what she was hoping for. Was everything yesterday just her imagination? Was she just feeling sentimental and willed the tactile sensation into reality?

After a couple more minutes of fruitless imagination, Shiki was about to give up and leave when she felt something, no, someone, grab her hand. Frightened at the sudden contact, Shiki looked down to see that nothing was there, just the fortune lines on her open palm and her silver pinky ring. Yet someone was there, holding her hand in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. She smiled as her eyes began to water.

“It’s you isn’t it.” She said more confidently, though she felt nothing of the sort. A light tap on the back of her hand was her only affirmation.

“I have so many questions for you, but I’ll save them for when you get back. The only one I need to ask is w-will you be back?” She tentatively prodded the air metaphorically, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck. Another light tap had her smiling once more.

“Beat’s going to kill you if you ever make it out of the UG. Rhyme’s not going to stop him. Eri hates your guts for leaving me.” She chuckled at that. She felt her hand move slightly, almost as if he sat down next to her. He brushed his unseen thumb over her knuckles.

A couple of people passing by looked at Shiki as if she wasn’t having a completely one sided conversation with herself in broad daylight. She honestly couldn’t care less. She rambled on about random things, hoping to catch him up on the entire year he had missed, only the good things because she wasn’t quite ready to talk about the bad ones. She would have continued well into the night if her phone hadn’t rang.

“Girl, why you don pick up ya phone? I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for hours!” Beat shouted so loudly into her phone she had to remove it from her ear.

“Shiki, where are you?” the smaller girl gently inquired, seemingly having pulled her brother’s phone away from him before he crushed it, “he was about to call the police if you didn’t pick up.”

She could still feel their hands interlocked, but reluctantly replied, “I’m at Hachiko, Rhyme. Tell Beat I’ll text when I leave and get home.”

“Beat wait -- , nevermind he just left. We’ll come pick you up. Just stay there. See you soon!” The phone line clicked.

Shiki sighed, “Beat and Rhyme are coming to get me. It won’t be long before they show up.” She paused, wondering if she could ask what has been on her mind, if the fates were on her side today.

“I’ll promise to be here, everyday, waiting for you to get back to the RG. Until then, can you promise to meet me here, everyday, until I can see you again?” She knew this went against the rules of the game, but the game had dictated her happiness for long enough. If there was any chance of being with him, invisible or otherwise, she would take it.

Her hand moved again, this time their fingers separated, but not completely. His pinky finger wrapped around her silver ring, the same one she wore during the first game, and a new promise was made as they gently shook on it.

And then he was gone. Her hand tingled from the absence of his light touch. She thought she could see faint sparkles from where she presumed he had been sitting. When the Bito siblings found her shortly after, her dazed expression had them both worried, but then a genuine smile broke out on her face as she proposed they go have a light dinner before heading home. Rhyme and Beat looked at each other, communicating through their eyes that they had no idea what had happened, but were glad Shiki’s original spark had finally showed up all the same.

That had been two years ago, and everyday of those two years Shiki spent pretending to talk to someone on the phone instead of an apparition. Everyday for two years of updating his shadow on her daily life routine and not being able to ask him how his day went. This arrangement wasn’t perfect, but just knowing that he was alive, even if they were on separate planes, meant that there was hope she would see him again. Even as the weeks went to months, and months went to years, everyday, he would faithfully show up, and they would hold hands just to exist together behind the symbol of loyalty and patience.

“Tomorrow’s my big collaboration presentation to the executives of Jupiter. Eri and Rhyme are going to be there. We could honestly all use the distraction after what happened with Beat. Please look out for him in the UG? Times like this I really wonder what’s going on with the game now and how many people I have to lose to it before it’s satisfied…”

About two weeks ago, Beat magically disappeared. Shiki was going to his classroom to invite him to lunch with her and Eri when she saw a student in his class hand Beat a pin of some sort. They were trending for a while now, but they reminded Shiki too much of the game to want one for herself. Trauma, bad luck, she wasn’t really sure, but she wanted no part in it.

When the student handed it to Beat though, he vanished into thin air. She dropped her bento and unceremoniously ran into the classroom. Shiki demanded what just happened, when Beat’s classmate just looked at her, his eyes dilated for a second, returned back to normal, and looked surprised. She again pressed on for an answer, to which the student had no idea who or what she was talking about.

It was almost as if Beat’s entire existence was … erased. When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she ran to the first year classrooms and shouted for Rhyme. Shiki couldn’t imagine why this was happening again. She finally was able to talk to Neku again and now her pseudo brother, Beat, was missing.

Despite the inner turmoil she was feeling, Shiki had enough sense that day to ask Neku if he’d seen or heard from Beat. It was difficult to communicate when the only responses she got were taps on her hand but she managed to find out that Beat was indeed in the UG, even if Neku hadn’t seen him personally yet. Rhyme had a look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking beyond the plane of the RG and was preparing her next move. Rhyme said not to worry, she was going to track down her brother down one way or another.

For the past two weeks, Shiki had a few depressive relapses. Even though she had her coping mechanisms, her rock was gone. Rhyme was working on her military grade computer system to find Beat in the UG, and Eri helped keep her distracted with work. But it wasn’t the same. It helped that Neku was there for her everyday though, like today.

“Well that's all I have for now. Please keep on eye out for the skaterbrain, and wish me luck on my presentation,” she felt a tap on the back of her hand, “till tomorrow.”

As predicted, Shiki was a ball of nerves during her presentation, but she warmed up at least a quarter way through. It helped that she knew most of the execs from her internship days at Jupiter, and were impressed with her work. The collaboration looked promising for the coming days. Eri and Rhyme, both of her founding Gatto Nero board members, ushered her to leave for her date while they settled some details, promising to meet up with her afterward. She felt like she was on top of the world after that meeting, and was bouncing happily to the coffee shop to grab her customary celebratory drink before heading to Hachiko.

What she saw standing behind the statue made her drop her drink and had her flying across the scramble. She barreled into the boy, causing his headphones to fall into his hood. He took a step back to steady them both before bringing his arms around her.

“Hey Shik’s, did ya miss me tha much?” the blond boy flashed a mischievous grin.

“You idiot! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to sew your feet to the ground if you ever do that again!” Shiki screamed at him, throwing fists into his lean chest to demonstrate how mad she really wasn’t.

“Gah girl, when did ya get so strong?” Beat shrieked, trying to hug her again to stop her from hitting him.

“I missed ya too, now stop hittin’ me yo!” She pouted as she squeezed him tight. She had gotten so used to his hugs, she really missed them.

“I got a surprise fo ya.” He pulled away from her so she could see who was behind him.

She stopped breathing. It was like her lungs and heart decided to shut down at the same time, leaving her body to scramble on how to save the rest of her. Her hands tingled from the lack of oxygen as she stared at his face, the one that had matured, but never really changed after three years. He sported his boyish smile, not hidden behind a collar, the ones she admittedly had forgotten about but made her stomach flutter all the same.

“Hey Stalker.”

She could tell that he was nervous, the same nervous energy he had when they started dating years ago. Shiki had dreamed about what their reunion would be like, what she would do when it happened, what she imagined he would say. It wasn’t that, and she wanted to punch him for it if she could just MOVE.

But she felt paralyzed, and he was getting even more nervous from the silent treatment. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognize around them, but all she saw was Neku.

Growing impatient, Beat slapped Neku on the back so hard he fell forward, catching his balance before he could fall into Shiki. When he was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand, with all the familiarity she had gotten used to for two years. Then he tenderly touched her face, wiping away her tears.

“I’m home.” He said gently.

She managed to mutter, “welcome home,” before he sealed his promise with a kiss she had been waiting too long to return.

OMAKE

“Phones get a room bro! We got kids ‘ere!”

“Yeah Neku-san get some!”

“We aren’t that much younger than you”

“I believe that I am older than all of you. And with that I bid you all farewell as I am in jeopardy of major spoilers. I must get the new EleStra DLC immediately!”

“Boss, wait, we got to celebrate our victory, come back!”

Notes: Full disclaimer, I haven’t finished TWEWY NEO yet, I’m starting the third week now. I’ve spoiled myself, so I sort of know what happens, but a lot of what I do know is out of context. So take this story as you will, it might not make a whole lot of sense, and might be completely off, but I’m excited that when I do finish the game, how my headcannons will have matched up! Or don’t!

That also being said, I starved myself from reading other fanfics on the Neshiki reunion because I didn’t want it to unintentionally change my headcannon and I also wanted to write without feeling like I was copying someone else’s ideas. If my story is similar to someone else’s, it’s purely because great minds think alike. An example of convergent evolution if you will. (I will be devouring those fics very soon though).

Notes regarding the story-wise: I like found family tropes, and I wanted to make it clear that Beat and Shiki’s relationship are purely brother/sister related if I haven’t already. If you have other shipping goggles on, have at it in this judgement free zone. This story was inspired by this idea I had of Shiki sitting behind Hachiko holding hands (I love hand holding. I wrote two other fanfics about that) with Neku, who is transparent being in the UG, just smiling at her while she talks about her day even though she can’t see him. The miracles of love and friendship traverse all planes right?

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed this Neshiki food I’ve haphazardly prepared in like 7 hours.

[lookforthefuture49]

Yo!

I got a fanfiction, finally. I don't expect it to be read much here, but here are the links to fanfiction.net and Ao3 pages for it respectively:

Ao3

Fanfiction.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13947355/1/Universal-Wars-aren-t-fun

Ok now I can paste it.

Enjoy <3

[Note: this story is only to be on Archive of Our Own/Fanfiction.net under the username DoubleKKookie and on Tumblr under the username Retrooutlaw. IF YOU SEE IT ANYWHERE ELSE, PLEASE SHOOT ME A PM! This is also kinda meant for funsies, obviously.]

Note note: half created by AI Dungeon. Yay for Ai Generated fanfiction lol

[Universal wars aren't fun//1//Battlegrounds]

Izuku's hair ruffled in the wind, the view of a crumbling city crossing his vision. It was odd, how one minute the world was peaceful, and the next an inter-dimensional war decided to happen. During this war of many universes, most of his world was ravaged. Izuku figured he would probably be safe, at least for now. His world might be a battleground, but he wasn't in the midst of the fight. He wouldn't hurt people from other worlds just because some of their worst villains wanted to attack other places. In fact, Izuku just wanted an excuse to help these new people, to stop their worlds from being ruined too. His plan was to travel between the worlds.

Except, all he got was a dazed sense of incompleteness as the world around him seemed to flicker. For a moment, it seemed as if he were home again visiting his mother over a break, excited to see what his friends did. He could feel a couple of tears form, but of happiness, of joy. However, just as quickly as this flicker came, it left, and he came to the realization he was just remembering the past, that he was still alone in the forest, and that seemed to worsen his sad state.

Izuku turned and took a few steps. He had to get moving, and he had to get moving now. He didn't quite know where he was going, but he knew it was far from his home. All he knew was that he had to keep moving, and find a new reason to fight. So, Izuku decided to just keep walking. He made his way through the forest, dodging branches and occasional bokoblins.

Bokoblins were odd, as he'd never seen them before the inter-universal war began. They hadn't even kinda existed in his world, but now he felt like he was fending the creatures off every other step. He never attacked them, but it seemed like he was constantly running from them, even if they were obviously weak.

This rural area he'd found himself in looked to be nearly untouched by the war. Still, there was this odd sense of unease, and Izuku felt like he was being watched. Like he was being watched every step of the way.

Fearful of this feeling of a watchful eye burning a hole into his back, he began to speed up, getting to the point of running. Running as far as he could, as fast as he could.

The more he ran, the faster he felt himself becoming. He couldn't tell what time of day it was, but he knew that it had to be night.

He ran for what felt like an eternity before stopping, legs buckling under him

He fell to the ground, trying not to cry out. He stood back up, deciding if he was going to be upset about a stupid war, he was gonna do it where it was safe, so he stumbled away from the wide open area he was in, and eventually found a flat-topped building, which he entered before reaching the roof and staring out at the more rural area he had found himself in. What modern building were there, such as this one, were overrun with vines and ivy.

He sat down on the roof and wrapped his arms around his knees, finally letting everything soak in. This situation was garbage. He'd been left behind by the civilians who escaped, he had no idea where his friends were, and he had no way of contacting any heroes or any of his peers to come to his aid.

Izuku didn't want to think about the possibility that they were all dead, but looking at the modern buildings being overtaken like this one, he couldn't help but think such a thing. If the entire town was this destroyed, how on earth could THEY be ok?

He didn't understand how something so bad could happen. How the world could ever go back to normal after what was happening right now, Izuku didn't know. But, all he could do now was try to help, and help he would. The moment he saw a portal open, it was his door to purpose, to other people, whoever they were.

He didn't care what world he stepped into. He didn't care if he died, he just wanted to make a difference. It was no longer about this world, about him, or any of the pro-heroes he once loved. Now, if it meant death, he'd stop this war. He decided right then and there he'd do it for his friends, for his family, for All Might, and for whoever he met on the other side of the portal he was adamant on finding.

He wouldn't fail. Lifting his arms from his legs, he rested his face against his knees and took a deep breath. He lifted his head up, staring to the sky.

"I promise, I'll save everyone. No matter what."

...

Izuku sat on that roof for several more minutes before deciding to resume his search. He stood up, left the roof, and began to walk again- until he heard something. Multiple people, a fair distance away behind him. Judging from what he was hearing of the conversation, they hadn't noticed him yet, and were rather focused on someone who sounded distressed and wanted to get away from them. He hid behind the building as the group of people came into sight, listening into their conversation closely.

"LET ME GO!" He heard peirce the air, and when he could see the group, he noted the man who yelled it was being dragged by the arms by two other people, and this man also looked.. unexplainably odd. His appearance didn't matter now, though. What was important was the predicament he was in.

"Would you just put me down already!?" He snapped again.

His supposed captors looked even angrier than they had initially.

"Our leader says that's not allowed, bucko." One of the two people holding him said. His voice was gruff and southern.

He had a goatee and his hair was slicked back. The other one was female, model-esque.

She had long, curly blonde hair, calm blue eyes and slick red lipstick, which was weird for someone to be wearing in this kind of situation.

"Our orders are very clear. Boss wants you."

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR STUPID BOSS IS BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU-"

The southern-sounding captor pulled a lighter from his pocket, and with it lit, rammed it into the torso of the man. He let out a blood-curdling scream and then didn't say another word afterwards. he, nor his clothes, had caught on fire, oddly enough. The southern guy snarled at the man. Izuku wasn't entirely sure who was good or bad in this situation, but he was irked by the entire scene. The only hard part was deciphering if the one who was captured by these two was good or bad, as saving a villain in the midst of a crazy war would be pretty counter-productive. From the way this man's captors were talking, however, he figured he was either a hero like him, or just in the moral gray trying to stay out of things.

Taking a risk, he stepped out from the shadows...

"Stop!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. They turned to look at him, and their eyes went wide.

He pointed at the man. "You two! Release him right now!"

"What do you think you're doing?" The southern one hissed angrily. "This is none of your business, kid! Go back to where you came from!"

His eyes flicked to the man, who seemed to be either knocked out or unresponsive, as he hadn't even twitched when Izuku shouted in his general direction.

"I don't care! He's being mistreated! I won't stand for it!"

The model (At least, Izuku assumed she was a model) whisper-hissed something at her comrade, who just scowled and shook his head. The two started arguing in hushed voices, as the man they dragged here was now beginning to stir.

When he did open his eyes, fear was clear in them immediately, probably thinking the glare Izuku was directing at his enemies was for him. He calmed after a moment, however. The pair seemed bugged but opted to leave without the man now that they'd been found by someone else. (Maybe that's what they were arguing about) They dropped the man harshly, although he didn't seem to be bothered by this at all. He seemed more bothered by the burn mark just below his chest, which, while small, seemed to be quite painful. It was hard for Izuku to gauge what the man was feeling, though, since he looked dead. Not just figuratively, but quite literally rotten and dead. It was strange, but Izuku decided not to question it, for that wouldn't help either of their situations. He instead walked up to the man, hoping to maybe initiate a conversation.

"Hey, um..." Izuku wasn't really sure what to say to him. He didn't know his name, for one.

The other was that he looked like he'd been through hell and back. He had a multitude of scars, both old and new, on his face and body. They were either dark purple, black, or was a hole, which revealed an empty vessel underneath. In fact, his entire complexion was purple, which struck Izuku as off. Any normal person, quirk or not, definitely was not supposed to be dead and purple.

"Are you alright?" Izuku decided to start with. Simple enough.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." (That comment definitely didn't pan out, but Izuku didn't know his life. Maybe this was normal.) Izuku noted a prominent British accent, one he hadn't noticed while the man was shouting angrily, which was odd, because he probably should have. Taking a closer look at him, the strange man was thin, mangy, and also lacked hair. His pupils were glowing, which also really was strange, and the whites of his eyes were now, instead, pitch black. It was somewhat unsettling, but Izuku tried not to think much of it.

"What was all that about?"

"Frankly, I dunno. One minute everything was normal and I was sitting at home, and the next those two were dragging me along to their 'boss'." He replied.

"I tried to get away, but it wasn't exactly easy. I kinda miss having muscles." He said this in a very nonchalant way, shrugging. Evidently, this man was missing vital body parts, who knows how many, and he was acting like it was completely fine.

"I... see," Izuku said, though he wasn't sure what else to say.

"So, what about you, kid? What's your name?"

"Izuku. Call me Deku, please." He stuck out a hand.

"Michael." The other shook his hand, and Izuku noted that he felt no bones in his hand, like it wasn't solid. It was strange, completely empty. "Uhm, do you know what's been going on lately?"

Michael did not reply immediately. "I dunno, something about some war? It didn't seem to pertain to me until I was dragged into a different world entirely, but feel free to explain."

"All I'm really sure of right now is that there is an Inter-Universal War going on right now, and I want it to end. Mostly because it's left my home a wreck, and I don't want that to happen to anybody else's."

Michael nodded in understanding.

"I can appreciate your feelings on the matter."

...

"How long have you been here?"

"Probably only a little over 2 hours."

Izuku had given Michael the choice to stick with him or go off on his own, and, not knowing what else to do, he agreed. Now they walked aimlessly as Izuku tried to explain a bit about what his world used to be like, and just make small talk. Izuku had decided the moment Michael agreed to tag along that he would not question his purple complexion or the lack of internal structure. It seemed like it might be rude, or bring back bad memories if he said the wrong thing, and he didn't want to cause that.

"I see."

They continued in silence for about an hour, before Michael spoke up again.

"I think I prefer this place over my home, truth be told."

Izuku was a little surprised that he would say something so out of nowhere. "Why?" He asked.

"I could go on for days about the terrible things that happened there." Michael sighed. "I don't particularly like dwelling on the past, so I tried to block it out. But here, it's all right. Even the atmosphere feels less oppressive, even if it's obviously still chaotic here."

Izuku frowned. "That's a pretty deep feeling to come up with so suddenly.

"I've had plenty of time to think, and this is the only conclusion I've come to."

...

The night took a long time to come, and Izuku still could find no portals, nor salvation in another world. He would have to wait another day. The pair sat down, and Izuku found himself falling asleep quite quickly...

It seemed like only seconds had passed when he felt something pulling him back to reality. He opened his eyes, and saw that the sky was beginning to turn pink.

"Get up." Michael whispered.

Izuku squinted, kind of annoyed. "Why?" He whispered back.

"I hear a large group of people coming, and I don't want to risk anything."

"Alright." Izuku nodded.

He stood up, as quietly as he could, and stretched, yawning. He was about to head off when he heard the sounds of many feet marching nearby. They were getting closer every second. He halted said stretching, and opted to climb up a tree. Michael made an attempt to hide, slipping behind a tree, but he was pretty easy to spot if one simply looked a little.

Izuku looked down at the group of men, as they marched by. His only question was why they were marching along together like this, and here of all things. They almost looked like soldiers, marching along with random weapons in hand. They were of varying species, although Izuku did not pay mind to this. When they passed and were far enough, Izuku leaped down and gestured for Michael to follow him as they tailed the group to see where they were going.

"What is this?" He hissed. They were headed towards a large open area. The group marched on, keeping pace, until they were they were the size of ants in distance. Izuku looked out to the open, treeless plains ahead. It took a minute to click in his mind, and he realized as Michael caught up what the plains were.

They were in the midst of a battlefield.

That's a wrap :D

[alma37]

A[h]arrowing evening - chapter 2

I kind of promised another chapter if I reached 100 hits on AO3. I am a little behind schedule, but a promise is a promise.

So, here is the chapter 2.

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rating : this one tends to M but not quite

I still have not counted the words.

@hopipollahorror​ @lady-of-the-wolves​ @thebeautyofdisorder​ @festering-queen​ @feralstare​

[let me know if you don’t want to be tagged]

@vampyrsbride​ @khyruma​ no idea if you even read fanfiction

Anyone else who didn’t ask to be tagged but still read my shit,

everyone, I hope you’ll enjoy!

As Dracula was settling comfortably for the night, a knock resounded on his door. Curious, he went to open and was startled to find a swaying Agatha in front of him.

- Agatha! To what do I owe the pleasure? Or is it displeasure tonight?

The young vampire waved her hand and slurred :

- I came to aplo... to aloo... ap.., to say I'm sorry.

The older vampire frowned :

- Are you all right?!

- Nether bedder!" She was leaning dangerously sideways until she was supported by the doorframe.

- Did you take something?" Dracula asked, incredulous.

- Noooo!... " But after a short pause, she admitted : "I just drank a drunk!" And she sniggered. Agatha never sniggered.

- Oh my! Are you drunk?!

- Mabee a little bit. But he tasted sooo good!" Agatha mumbled, ecstatic.

- What did I tell you about drinking drunk people?!

- Pff!" The younger vampire scoffed. "I drrink whoeve' I want, Mr 'now-it-all.

Now she was listing dangerously towards Dracula who held her upright by the shoulders.

- Do you understand how much alcohol is needed to affect us?! How much blood did he have left in his alcohol stream?!" He asked drily.

The former nun, leaning on his chest now, snorted.

- Did you just make a joke?

- Perhaps.

- You shooould not do that.

- Why not?

- Because... it makesss you likeable. And I am not sh-supposed to like you. I am sh-supposed to.. to kill you! See? I still have my little arrow with me, just in case.

Agatha brandished in all directions the wooden weapon she got used to carry since Dracula turned her. Weary, the older vampire got hold of it before his younger kin could do some damage to either of them.

- Yes, I can see that. I'll keep it for now, if you don't mind.

Agatha made a gesture, that could either mean she didn't mind or its exact opposite. When she didn't try to take back her weapon, the Count concluded it was the former and returned to their previous conversation :

- Did you just said you liked me?

- Ov course not! Why would I do that?! You mush... must get deaf in your old age.

- I assure you my hearing is quite good. You just said you liked me." He persisted.

- Nooooooooo. No, no, nononono. No..." Another short silence, before :" Maybe. A little. But I am rrrreally d-drunk at the moment, so you'll have to ashk... aks... hashk me again tomorrow. When I sh-slept it off.

- When you slept it off, you are going to wish me to the devil. So...

- Zat's not... jat's... that... Yeah!... Maybe we should sleep it ohf togejer, zen.

- I beg your pardon?!

- Zat way, no dish... no dims... no w... no sc-scoffing at.

- I won't sleep with you when you are drunk, Agatha.

- Why not?! I am vewy ri... very vi... willing at the moment. When will you 'ave anozer chance, do you think?

- God, give me strength!

- Did you..." Agatha sniggered for the second time in the evening. " Did you just take God's name in vain?!" before she dissolved in laughter, at the utter dismay of her older kin, while actually slouching against him.

- That's exactly why." The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist. When she finally calmed down, he tried to lead her towards the bedchamber :

- Come now. I am putting you to bed.

But Agatha resisted his pull. Even drunk, she was still a vampire.

- Only if you're coming with me into it.

Dracula towered above her.

- Agatha, don't push me. You know I want you. But not like that.

Far from being cowed, the younger vampire slid along his chest until she was an air breath from his mouth before flashing him a brilliant smile :

- Draaackeyyyy... me loveyyyy. Don't be so meaneyyyyy.

The older vampire snapped :

- That's it. That's enough! I am putting you to bed now.

Lifting her like she was a bag of feather, he threw her on his shoulder. Sober Agatha would have been scandalised. Drunk Agatha, however, sniggered for the third time and purred :

- Ooooh! Me very own cave man!... Cave vampire!" Then, even upside down, she set about removing his shirt from his trousers. Dracula couldn't believe what was happening : a few weeks ago, she almost killed him and now, it appeared that she was intent on undressing him.

- Agatha, stop that!" He admonished her, to no avail.

The younger vampire, apparently, was determined to see him naked before they could reach the bedroom. She was really trying his self-control.

- Agatha, if you don't stop, I am going to do something I have wanted to for a long time and you will be left with only regret and self-loathing in the morning. Is it really what you want?

At last, this made her stop. Dracula couldn't help but release a relieved sigh.

Once they reached the bedroom, Dracula slid her down to the bed. He put a knee on the floor to remove her shoes. Agatha, surprisingly silent, was watching him. When he straightened up to help her lie down, she unexpectedly put her hand under his shirt flat against his abdomen. Dracula fought to keep what was left of his restraint.

-Show me your scar.

- It's gone. You know we don't scar." The older vampire answered while removing gently her hand from his skin. She was warm from the blood, which wasn't helping with his growing lust. Luckily, she didn't resist. But she looked disappointed :

- I wanted to kiss it better, as you asked me. As an apology.

- You did, don't you remember?

- Hum! Yes. But I wanted to do it more... Can I kiss you better somewhere else, then?

- Agatha..." But before truly realising it, he was leaning forward. His restraint was flying through the window.

The kiss started sweetly, a mere brush of the lips, but drunk Agatha was demanding and Dracula, unable to resist, gave her what she asked. Soon they were tangled with each other, the older vampire not sure anymore how many limbs his younger kin had, as she seemed to touch him everywhere at the same time. He finally stopped her hands from their roaming and threaded their fingers, while exploring her mouth with avidity. In all their 123 years of fighting, she had never let down her guard and never allowed him this close. Until tonight. She was exquisite, as always. Warm and soft and... softer?

Dracula raised his head to note, with a mix of dismay and amusement, that his nemesis had fallen asleep in his bed. Well, at least, she finally was where he wanted her. The vampire shook his head and laughed softly at the irony. As it was, she wouldn't be able to stake him come morning. Small mercies.

*************

A few hours later, Agatha emerged slowly from her slumber. For a few instants, she couldn't remember but when memories flooded back, she put a pillow on her face and groaned. How could she do that?

- Oh! I see you are awake. Hum! And not suffering ill effects from your over-indulgence.

- Sweet Jesus! It really did happen, then?! I still hoped it was a nightmare.

- I am afraid not, Angel.

- I can't believe I did that. This is so embarrassing!

- Well, it could have been worse. I could have given in.

At those words, Agatha removed the pillow from her face - She couldn't smother herself anyway - and looked at her supposedly oldest enemy. He was watching her with a mix of fondness, resignation and longing. Or so it seemed to her guilty mind.

- I am so sorry, Vlad. I... Well, thank you for resisting. At least one of us didn't embarrass themselves last night.

- My pleasure, Angel. And don't thank me, I wasn't able to totally resist, if you remember well. If you hadn't fallen asleep, honestly..." He trailed before falling silent.

Agatha dropped her gaze on the sheets, a new wave of mortification washing over her.

- Yes, well, I provoked you. So, for once, I don't blame you. You actually showed remarkable restraint.

-  Did I hear you well? Did you just pay me a compliment?! You may suffer ill effects after all." Dracula teased her.

- Nevermind." Agatha mumbled, going out of bed. Dracula presented a helping hand, which, after only a slight hesitation, she took. Once upright, though, she had to grip it more tightly as she swayed on her feet.

- Hum. Not totally unscathed, then." The older vampire remarked, without mirth.

- I'm fine." She defended herself."I just feel a little numb.

- Yes, of course. My mistake." He answered, with a knowing smile this time.

- Oh do shut up, Dracula!" The younger vampire growled, as she tried to remove her hand from his. But Dracula didn't let her.

- Maybe you should stay the day. Sleep it off.

- Dracula...

- I promise you : no mischief, no ulterior motive. If I may say so, you don't look so good. You could rest here, I won't bother you.

- I don't think..." She hesitated.

- I can bring you some clean blood to clear your head and you can lie here as long as you want." Dracula added when he sensed her wavering.

Agatha was thinking about accepting his offer as she felt exhausted, but still she pondered.

- Where will you rest? It's daytime.

- Don't worry about me. My sofa is quite comfortable.

The former nun snorted :

- Your sofa is as comfortable as a marble coffin and at least a foot shorter than you!

Dracula shrugged.

- Well, I still have to put a bed in the guest bedroom, so it will have to make do.

Agatha looked at her nemesis' bed : it had been made for him, so it was probably a foot longer than her and at least, large enough to house a small village. She gulped then took a deep breath :

- Your bed is big enough for the both of us. And since, you were the gentleman and offered me its exclusive use, I would be a very sore guest if I'd let you sleep on this terrible furniture you dare call a sofa.

Despite his surprise at her unexpected proposition, Dracula chuckled :

- Well, if you get into the habit of coming to see me while drunk, I may need to invest into a second bed. Or...

Agatha raised a warning finger :

- Don't even think about finishing this sentence, Count.

The older vampire grinned but stopped talking. After an awkward silence, Agatha added :

- You should think about replacing that sofa, too.

- I will." At his tone, she looked at him. He was watching her back with that same expression again.

- Are you sure you don't mind?" Dracula broke the spell. "I must admit I got quite fond of my bed, since I don't need my coffin to sleep in.

- No. I mean : I don't mind." But she insisted, to be sure : "You promise me no mischief.

- You offered me to sleep with you." He countered, teasing her.

Agatha didn't catch the joke, if her scandalised look was any indication :

- I was drunk!

Dracula laughed at her outraged tone.

- I'm joking, Agatha. Relax.

he sat on one side of the bed and patted the place next to him.

- Come on. You look dead on you feet. I promised you no mischief. I'll keep my word.

Agatha sat carefully on the bed then lay down next to her old enemy. They didn't say anything for some time. Dracula rearranged his limbs then put his hands behind his head, settling in.

Agatha was lying next to him rigidly, debating with herself, until finally she sighed :

- Oh Hell!" And throwing caution to the wind, she rolled on her side to nestle against him. It was quite nice, actually.

The older vampire stayed still for a moment, unsure what to do. Then, slowly, he put down one arm to place it around her shoulders and bring her a little closer to him.

- No mischief." She mumbled into his shirt.

- No mischief." He confirmed with a smile in his voice. "Even if you make it hard for me to keep my promise."

- Not without a partner." His younger kin replied softly, already on the verge of sleep.

Dracula resisted laughing at her tart answer, so as not to disturb her. She was relaxing against him and very soon, he could sense she was fast asleep. No partner indeed.

He couldn't hold it any longer and laughed, barely disturbing his exhausted partner. She muttered in her sleep, then settled against him once more after throwing an arm across his chest.

Perhaps, she would heed his advice next time. But Dracula hoped she wouldn't. Drunk Agatha was almost as fun as angry Agatha and far more agreeable.

The older vampire looked down at the woman in his arms. Maybe he was the one high, in this instance : he still couldn't believe his nemesis was actually sleeping, sober and peaceful, in his embrace. If God had decided to be done with him and Agatha was His sword arm, Dracula decided then and there that it was a small price to pay for a few hours with her in his arms. And with that satisfying thought, he slipped in a comfortable slumber.

[frenemies-to-lovers]

I Can Wait | Cardan POV Missing QoN Scene

A short Cardan POV in which we find out where he slept while Jude was recovering during QoN. Also, a conversation between Cardan and the Bomb, who absolutely knows exactly what is going on.

---

Having delivered The Ghost into the Bomb’s custody, and having confirmed with my guard that the queen has retired to the royal rooms, I find myself settling at the head of the enormous strategy table with a pot of tea. . .  and a goblet of wine. I had hoped to bring Jude to see the strategy room, along with the rest of the new Court of Shadows, but there hadn’t been time. Of course Jude would immediately redirect every half-formed plan of mine from the moment she had been up and walking again. It’s what she does best, taking the reins and steering my life in whichever direction she deems fit. 

(Read on AO3)

I hadn’t thought I could have been more relieved to see her getting herself entangled in the middle of court politics than I had been when she snuck into my chambers and, without so much as a hello, launched into plans to thwart Balekin and Orlagh after having been returned from the Undersea. But seeing her up and in the middle of court business again today, after having seen her wounded and bleeding and so near to death, was its own kind of magic. I feel like I am able to let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding for quite so long. 

I take a sip of wine and press my hand to my face where she slapped me. There’s no visible wound anymore, but it is still a little tender to the touch. A physical reminder that it had actually happened, that she is awake and alive and feeling enough like herself to be angry at me. I hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by seeing her storming around the gardens, full of fire.  But after haunting the royal chambers for days and seeing nothing but her too-still unconscious body and her occasional restless dreams, being slapped felt like a relief. 

I know she doesn’t trust me, and that she may not trust me for a very, very long time. But she hadn’t pulled away when I reached for her hand. I try not to think too hard about the way it felt to have her walk through the halls by my side, as my queen. And as I take another long sip of wine, I try very hard not to think too much about her sleeping in my bed.

After some time, The Bomb comes in and takes a seat, her chair pulled far enough back that she can prop her feet on the table. She gives me a knowing look from the corner of her eye. 

“Are you sleeping in the spymaster’s quarters again tonight? There’s a whole palace that belongs to you, you know. And some royal rooms that, although they are very well guarded, I think you could manage to sneak into,” she suggests, not facing me but giving me a sly smile nonetheless. 

“Just because she is my wife doesn’t mean she wants me sneaking into her room. . .”

“Your room,” she cuts me off with a wink. Did I really just refer to the royal chambers as Jude’s room? 

“The room where she’s sleeping,” I amend. “And... bothering her. Especially while she’s still healing from a sword fight with her redcap father. And then a subsequent fall from the rafters during an ill-conceived plan that was meant to protect me.” 

“You two need to talk,” she sighs, exasperated. 

I like that she speaks to me this way. Having been first Dain’s spy, and then Jude’s, she does not speak to me as a courtier would. I usually like her lack of deference, but her current directness has reminded me of everything Jude and I did discuss today. And how suspicious Jude may always be of my intentions.  Deservedly so.

“We did talk,” I say sullenly, and realize that my wine is gone. Reminding myself that no good has ever come of allowing myself to indulge too much, I start on the tea. I wish I enjoyed it as much as the wine. “She is angry with me. And I can’t say I blame her. And did I mention the part where she nearly died. . . very recently?”

The Bomb is still looking at me expectantly. She is a good spy. Observant. I assume she had noticed my worry and my pining during the time Jude was prisoner in the Undersea. Even if she hadn’t, she had been the first person to find me after Jude, pretending to be Taryn, had been taken by Madoc.  She had seen all of my panic. My rage. My desperation. It would have been obvious to anyone at that point, but my feelings for Jude were especially obvious to The Bomb.  Especially after I had consulted with her over and over about the kinds of things she thought Jude might want to include in the new Court of Shadows. Especially after I had sent her off to assist Jude rather than remain with me while I was actively dying from Balekin’s poisoning. 

The silence stretches on. And on. 

“You can stop looking at me like that. I am not sneaking off to press my luck with Jude while she is both injured and angry. Perhaps she will decide that ruling Elfhame alone is preferable to having to rule by my side.  She is more than capable of killing me with her bare hands, and I have given her good reason to do so.  I’m not certain I’m ready to provide her with the opportunity.” I might not mind her hands around my throat, but I’m trying to prioritize making her place as Queen feel secure over any of my ill-conceived desires.  As potent as those desires may be.

The Bomb sighs as she drops her feet from the table. “Very well, Your Majesty.  I have done all I can to speed Her Majesty’s healing.  She did seem more recovered today than I expected  -- especially for a mortal.” 

I think I want everyone to refer to Jude as Her Majesty at all times in my presence. I like the way it sounds. 

“I am certain we will all be relieved when our true spymaster is back in charge,” I manage to say in response. 

She makes her way to leave, but pauses at the door. “I have heard that Grima Mog knows a bit about healing elixirs -- a handy thing to know when you spend much of your time in battle. Although no one can help with Jude being angry, perhaps she can be of assistance with her recovery.”

With that, she leaves me to my thoughts and my tea. 

I stay for a long time, finishing the pot of tea and trying to unravel my thoughts, wondering how I can prove to Jude that I never wish for her to fear cruelty from me again. No answers come other than that she will need time to heal from the blows I have dealt as surely as she needs time to heal from her physical injuries. If I am lucky, she will recover swiftly from both. If not, I will wait. I can wait for her to be ready to forgive me.

I eventually leave the Court of Shadows and retire to the adjoining rooms, which the Bomb refers to as the spymaster’s chambers. I had them prepared for Jude, should she choose not to reside in the royal rooms. I had tried but could not find a way to connect her existing rooms to the new Court of Shadows. 

I stretch out on one side of the bed, picturing Jude in the space next to me. I remember the way we had tangled together in our exhaustion after exchanging our vows, lying together in the bed where she now sleeps. I close my eyes and remember her head on my shoulder, her hand resting lightly on my chest. Did she trust me then, only for me to ruin it? 

To be fair, she had just murdered my brother and conveniently not deigned to mention it.

I try to shove the uncomfortable thoughts away and get back to the memory of waking with her in my arms. But in my mind all I can see is the look in her eyes when she had slapped me, all fury and indignation. The look on her face when she told me she feared what I would do to her next. The way I could practically see her mind flitting through every unkind thing I had ever done to her. I find that, although they are not particularly comforting images, I am glad they have replaced the visions that have plagued me for days: her body plummeting from the rafters, her body in a pool of her own blood, her body lying motionless in my bed as I uselessly try to clean the blood from her hands. 

I fall asleep still touching the sore spot on my cheek.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this little scene that I could not get out of my head.  This is legit the first time I’ve written fanfiction in over a decade, and I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.  Which is why this was half-assedly posted from mobile last night for about an hour.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Gave into the fire (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N:  Hello, hello, hello! Guess who's alive :D Exams are officially over, thank god for that, so that means that writing can be back in session. We also are kinda sorta more or less about a month (and no, I couldn't fit in more 'maybe' words into that sentence) away from OH coming back (I said maybe, because it's an enigma at this point). So yeah, I finally am able to fuel all my brain power into writing (and playing Crash Team Racing Nitro Fueled because it's the best game ever and you can't change my mind). I hope you're all okay and taking care of yourselves

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362976

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie 

  Enjoy! <3

--------------------

Even though it’s been hours since their fate had been decided by a bunch of rich people that were willing to spend their money on their cause, their nerves eased only when they finally sat down in the booth at the bar, Reggie serving them drink after drink. The unsettling feeling that followed them since the day the news of Edenbrook losing its funding has reached them, finally gave way to a wave of relief and unrestricted happiness. At least for one night, all their worries faded away, overshadowed by a glowing victory.

The regular circle of residents has been joined by one more person. Sitting right between Bryce and Sienna was Alex Morrow. Claire and Alex have known each other since they were kids, there was probably no one else that knew her as well as he did. Jackie called him ‘a walking Claire’s diary” and then tried to bribe him into spilling all her secrets, which Claire did not appreciate.

Since he lived in England, they didn’t see each other often. For that reason, her friends have never seen him outside of the computer screen before. Now, there he was, sandwiched between Bryce and Sienna, telling yet another story from their childhood, completely ignoring the kicks he’s consistently been getting from a sitting across from him Claire.

“That’s not how it went down and you know it!” she exclaimed, slamming her palm against the table. “You were the one who set the tree house on fire, I wasn’t even near that thing!”

“You did what?” Jackie choked on her drink, throwing herself into a coughing fit interlaced with a string of laughter.

“It was an accident, most of which was my fault, I admit. But it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Claire who decided to announce that my aunt was taking us out for ‘real food’ as she used to say, by which she meant the most gross concoction ever known to human kind. ” Alex admitted, shrugging his shoulders like it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Dude, I was only delivering the news. How is that my fault?”

“We didn’t go out with her and didn’t die eating that abomination, so I say it’s a win in my books. I was seven, my view of the world was different back then”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t set that tree house on fire again, just to spite aunt Kate?” grinning widely, Claire took a sip of her drink, her eyes sparkling playfully.

“Oh, hell yes I would, that woman is nasty.” He answered in a heartbeat, nodding his head just a bit too enthusiastically, causing the whole group to laugh. Alex’s eyes scanned the room, coming to a stop at something by the bar. “Someone’s staring. Is that him?”

Claire looked over, not knowing what to expect and at the same time knowing exactly who he was talking about. Right next to Reggie was Ethan, nursing a drink, looking over his shoulder from time to time. Their eyes met and she expected him to look away, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he insistently held her gaze, an unreadable spark causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“You should go talk to him.” Sienna muttered softly, her eyes sympathetic. “It’s been almost two months since you really talked to one another, and I don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t want to do but maybe you guys need… closure.”

“I agree with Sienna.” Alex joined in, looking at her with a smile. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Claire looked between the two of them. The whole purpose of staying away from Ethan was so that she wouldn’t have to talk to him. It’s been two months of trying and somewhat succeeding at keeping their relationship professional while trying to not be short with each other when they did have to talk. No one knew what exactly went down between the two doctors, and they wanted to keep it that way.

A war was waging in her head, both sides screaming loudly, pulling her in the opposite directions until one of them won. “Ugh, I hate you all.”

“We love you too!” Sienna called out after her, sharing a tense smile with Alex.

She stood up, squaring her shoulders as she mentally prepared for what was to come. It was easy, right? She just had to… walk up to him and start a conversation. Pretty easy.

Except it wasn’t. Because with Ethan, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. It filled her with dread almost as much as it excited her, most of the time at least. Talking to him was thrilling, his intelligence challenging her and drawing her in the more she tried to resist.

Being near him was exhilarating. Every last one of her nerve endings was sparking with electricity, her body tuned to his presence. If his behavior towards her was any indication, he was tuned to her too. She moved, he felt the tug to follow. He stepped closer, she felt the invisible force, pulling her to him.

Her walk came to a stop, right by his side. She felt his eyes on her before she saw them, hot and intense trail, enveloping her whole body. When their gazes finally met, there was that spark again, thinly veiled by indifference.

“Hi.” She decided to be the brave one and start the conversation. Though brave didn’t exactly describe the way she spoke the word. Slowly, quietly and shyly, like she was afraid of shattering the fragile balance they managed to achieve in the past two months.

“Hi.” He responded, just as quietly and uncertainly, his shoulders tensing slightly. A long moment of silence followed, their eyes locked onto one another securely, refusing to look away. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, he asked. “How are you?”

“I’m good. So relieved that we’re out of the troubled water. It feels like a heavy weight has been taken off my shoulders. I can breathe again.” she let out a nervous breath, laughing slightly. He smiled at that, his eyes softening just a bit, tension in his body lessening.

“Don’t suffocate on me, Rookie, we can’t afford to lose you.” Ethan’s voice sounded like he tried to be nonchalant, but ultimately failed. It carried so many emotions and had so much depth to it that he himself could drown in it, searching for salvation that was out of his reach. He couldn’t get out of this feeling if he tried. To an outsider, it seemed as though the longer they were so close to one another, the softer Ethan was becoming, the closer to each other they were leaning. Like they were unable to resist it, like they didn’t want to resist it.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Ramsey, you’re stuck with me for a long time.” She muttered, shifting from one foot to the other. Her gaze fell to the ground, the floor suddenly more interesting that the conversation they were trying to have. Finally, she looked up, biting the inside of her cheek for a quick moment. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you. Enjoy the rest of your night… Ethan.”

“Claire?” he called out after her, making her turn back towards him. Her eyebrow shot up in question. “Let your hair down. It brings your eyes out.”

A blush spread across her cheeks, accompanied by a soft smile, but not another word was spoken. She felt his eyes on her, walking her back to her friends, and then the warmth was gone once again. He turned back to his drink, trying to refocus and shake off the feeling of her effect on him.

Sienna and Alex waited until Claire sat down, watching with surprise as she took apart the braid that her hair had been in, and only then did they bombard her with questions.

“What did he say?”

“What happened?”

She held her breath before letting it out, shrugging her shoulders with a blank expression. “We… talked. That’s it, actually.”

In the corner of her eye, Claire noticed Ethan getting up and going towards the garden in the back. She tried not to let it distract her too much, tuning back into the conversation her friends were having, but the temptation to follow him has became too strong to ignore. “I’ll be right back.”

Her feet carried her towards him on her own, like she was being pulled by a magnet. Once she was sure that she’s out of her friends’ sight, her pace had picked up, but as she stepped outside, she saw it empty. No sight of Ethan, or anyone else for that matter. Just the soft tune, flowing in the background, blending flawlessly with the wind that moved the leaves on the trees.

Slight movement of the door leading inside the smaller building in the back caught her attention, and suddenly she knew exactly where she was supposed to go. Her hand pushed the handle, closing the door as she stepped into the dimly lit room, her breath shallow and fast, uncertain of what was about to happen.

Pretty much as soon as the door closed, his warmth surrounded her like a thick blanket. His arms went around her and pulled her back towards him, embracing her gently. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“I think you’re lying” she whispered, her hands sliding down his arms until they reached his palms, fingers tangling gently. “You have a hard time staying away from me, and so do I.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t have any self-control, Claire?”

“When it comes to us? No, you don’t.” she responded lightly, leaning back against him. “But then again, neither do I. Prime example is us being here, Ethan.”

He took her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a lingering kiss as soon as he spun her around to face him. She took a step towards him, her other hand resting on the side of his neck comfortably while his other arm slipped around her waist, pulling her as close to him as he could. Eye to eye, nose to nose, body to body, they fell into the comforting motion of swaying, back and forth. Her eyes fell shut, his scent calming her senses, her breathing in sync with his.

“I’m not sure I can let you go.” Claire’s voice broke the tender silence that fell upon them after what felt like forever. His embrace got tighter, his lips pressing against her forehead.

“I’m not sure I can either.”

----------

Rain rang against the windows of his apartment, creating a soft contrast to the discussion they were having. Seated on the couch were two doctors, sitting under a blanket, two cups of now cold tea on the table near them. He raised his eyebrow at her idea.

“That’s it! That’s the one!” Claire’s voice rang out, laced with a delighted laugh. Ethan looked at her in confusion. Mostly because the whole discussion of the ‘code’ seemed ridiculous to him at the time, but he would find out later on that having a silent way to say ‘I care about you’ would come in handy more times than he would be able to count.

“But I do that all the time. How will you know what I mean by that?”

“That’s the added bonus. No one will be able to tell if you’re professing your feelings to me or being annoyed. As for me…” she leaned towards him, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “I already know that you can’t get angry at me, really, so there’s no conflict there.”

“But-“

“Find some other way to express you being annoyed at me, then, because this one is sticking.” She kissed him, for real this time, climbing into his lap and tangling her fingers into his hair.

“How about you?” he panted after they separated a few moments later, his hands running up and down her back. She combed her fingers through his strands for a bit as she thought her answer through.

“What would you say about…” she tapped her cheek three times, right in the place that he’s always chosen to kiss in the past. “… this.”

His lips followed right where her finger was just a split second ago, pressing a lingering kiss to her skin. “Perfect.”

---------

Somehow, neither of them was sure how, they ended up by the wall, Claire’s back pressed against it as Ethan’s lips assaulted her neck. Her soft moans got lost under the music, flowing from the outside. He tangled his hand into her hair, pulling on it slightly. “I’m glad you followed my advice.”

“I had a feeling you would get your way somehow, so I decided to make it easy for you.”

Their lips met in a hungry kiss, no holding back, no reservations. It’s been a couple of days since they could just let go and not stress about the outside world, and every time they got the chance to do so was a small victory they got to celebrate.

That’s how it’s been for quite some time now. Ethan got fed up with his own stubbornness and decided to give himself a chance to be happy. That meant that he finally got the chance to see where his feelings for Claire would lead him. Very soon, pretty much the moment he kissed her with the purpose of never letting her go, he realized that he has been, in fact, an idiot for trying to suppress this feeling. Naveen has told him, time and time again, that he should stop trying to be correct all the time, and instead go for what was right.

Because what they had was right. It felt right. There weren’t a lot of times in which Ethan could say he experienced ‘right’, but here it was. Claire just… was. And that was enough. It was enough to pull him away from unhealthy work habits. It was enough to pull a smile onto his face. It was enough to pull that heavy weight off his chest. It was everything.

The kiss slowed down, until they just stood there, lips pressed against each other, breathing the same air. When her eyes opened, she found his already on her, filled to the brim with warmth and softness that she didn’t see in there that often.

Her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer to her, taking a deep breath to remember his scent, even though she’s had it memorized by now. “We should tell Naveen.”

“I think he knows” Ethan muttered against the skin of her neck, the motion tickling her a bit.

“We should tell him regardless. Maybe he’ll have an idea as to what we should do. I’m not sure if I can keep you hidden for much longer.”

“I’m that tempting, huh?” he snickered, earning himself a pinch on the side of his ribcage, followed by a shriek as he tickled her back.

“Irresistible.” She breathed out, pulling him into a short kiss, trying and failing to not fall into him again. Neither of them was sure how much time has passed before they came up for air again, but judging by the change in music, it must have been a while.

“Where are you going after the night is over?” he asked, pulling her hair back over her shoulder, smoothing it out to his best ability. She shrugged, her face spelling out innocence.

“My apartment of course.” Her response was met with a low hum, his finger following the line of her cheekbone.

“I think you meant mine.”

“Why? Are you implying something, Dr. Ramsey?”

“Only that I will miss you dearly if you leave me alone, Dr. Herondale.” He admitted with a boyish smile that lit up his features, making him even more handsome in her eyes than he usually is.

“You’re asking so nicely…“ Claire muttered, her lips kissing his chin tenderly. “… how could I possibly refuse?”

They had a hard time letting each other go, pulling the other back in as soon as they got too far, but at last, their embrace broke and she went back to her friends, praying that her appearance didn’t give her away. They’ve gotten good at pretending, but if there was to be any indication of what was happening between them, her friends would pick up on it instantly.

Luckily for her, no one seemed to notice anything, and as soon as she sat down next to Sienna, she was brought into the conversation. If Alex had noticed her being flushed, like she always was when even so much as talking about Ethan, he didn’t say a thing.

About five minutes later, Ethan walked back into the main building with a purpose of going home, where he would wait for her to join him. As he passed them by, he raised his eyebrow at her, and she tapped her cheek three times.