#and would communicate with me using a low-pitched sigh whenever she needed to go out

[bobblestheninja]

There are some reasons you wouldn't want to muzzle a reactive dog though.

My Molly had a rough life before we got her, and was fear-aggressive with other dogs. We put in a ton of training with her, but even then the leashed/unleashed power dynamic was not one she did well with (luckily in our area not a lot of people let their dogs off leash)

However, we didn't use the muzzle as a preventative measure during walks, that's because we very quickly realized that it had a psychological effect on her (because of having to use it for the vets when she was having her joints checked for her arthritis, that she started having issues with pretty young.)

That's because the second the muzzle went on (so long as one of her people were nearby, or one of the vets/techs she knew, or one of her people physically handed the leash to the other person) she relaxed.

She was a Rhodisian Ridgeback/Lab mix, and wanted to keep her people safe. So the muzzle signaled to her that it was okay, we were doing the protecting for now. It was a signal that worked super well, especially once she developed diabetes and had to get insulin twice a day/get her sugars tested. Muzzle on, Molly relaxed, there was no issue with doing whatever medical thing that needed to be done. Muzzle meant humans were in control of her safety and wouldn't let anything bad happen to her.

However, using the muzzle for situations where we didn't know it was 100% safe for her and that we didn't have control over? That wasn't something we would do, because we didn't want some other person's dog attacking her when she was vulnerable and ruining her signal to relax and allow her ears to be medicated or to calm down so she can be poked. So no muzzle for walks, just the harness and strong leash so that she could be taken away from the situation, and carefully planning our trips. The harness allowed us to control her, especially when she got older, because even though she was a good 80 lbs she had hip dysplasia, and her hind legs were relatively weak. So even if she wouldn't sit (if a dog came by on leash we would go far to the side of the path, basically into the bush, and she would have to sit with no slack in the leash) then I could basically use the harness to lift her front end a little off the ground so she couldn't get the leverage to do anything even if she wanted to.

Now she wasn't going to bite people or anything, she was very calm with people, but we did know that it was a possibility if an unleashed dog came up to her. But because we could make sure she couldn't lunge, and our area didn't have off-leash dogs that often, we could keep the muzzle for unfun vet visits and keep it from being associated with being powerless and vulnerable, and keep it being more associated with being safe in an uncomfortable situation.

Everyone else talked about outdoor cats, it's time for me to talk about offleash dogs

[butterbeerblurbs]

boyfriend boost (f.w.)

💌: meet your biggest hype man (and boyfriend), fred weasley. 📝: word count: 3,128 words / fred weasley x reader / 🌸fluffflufffluff 💬: tell me i’m wrong that fred would not be your biggest hype man. i’m wAITING [also this was very self-indulgent so let me bask in this thankuloveububs]

there was nothing, and nothing subtle about fred weasley. if there were two boxes, one being the tamest option there is and the other being the grandest of the grand, oh, wonder where fred weasley would’ve been put into? you guessed it right, folks, the grandest of them all. don’t get it twisted, though. when he’s being all that grand, it was more in the form of how he showed his appreciation for you rather than himself. he was confident with his successes and strengths, sure, but he was rather humble about it. he’d rather hear it come from others than himself.

but when it involves you? oh, subtleties be damned.

fred weasley was y/n y/l/n’s number one cheerleader and hype man combined, no less. a hundred and ten million percent always willing to back you up and will throw hands if anyone dared to lay a finger on you (not that he didn’t think you couldn’t fend for yourself - he believes in you - but he’d rather much take up on the fight because his anger would fuel him faster than you could hold him back). he’d gladly holler through the bleachers of how gorgeous you were, even if it meant he’d get into trouble (he has). a surge of pride would go through his veins as he cheers for how you’ve managed to achieve good grades (and comfort you when you don’t). he’ll yell at the top of his lungs that he’s the luckiest man alive to be dating you when his team wins a match of quidditch and you’d hear your name echoing across the pitch area - along with the whole bloody castle (which, he also has).  

although you could do without his continuous yelling because one day, that man will lose his voice, you have to admit that you love it. how unafraid he was being with you. how proud he was with every single one of your achievements and celebrated yours like it was his. he has his loud moments, but his quiet ones are the ones you equally loved as well. how gentle he was whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on or how he’d resort to using his body to cocoon you in from the world. or how he’d fetch you the things you craved for just to make sure he’d see a small smile on your face. on top of it all, his company and his presence; willing to make himself known with a hand in yours as you bundled up in the sheets together. 

there was no other man like fred weasley and you were well-aware of it; more so when he’s kissing you like you’re the only person that mattered in this world, and... letting you go to sit down beside him as if he hadn’t snogged you in front of all of your friends.

he mutters a soft: “you’re welcome for the show there, fellas!” and they groan in response, waving him off as they dig into breakfast. oliver even going as far as to toss a napkin to fred’s face who only snickers in response. it seems like they’ve grown numb to fred’s never-ending affections towards you and for someone rather reserved, they’re always questioning how you were so calm in the midst of fred’s hurricane of affections. you fondly brush his hair back and chuckle as he leans in for a small peck on your lips, along with kissing the side of your head after and he settles down for breakfast. as he does, he adores how you still blush after being kissed by him yet try to pretend like it doesn’t affect you. he knows because you hit the side of his thigh under the table and he catches your hand, holding onto it and winking at you before starting to eat.

fred was generally a romantic person to begin with; and he showed that off pretty much in public, in private, whenever he could. it felt like the chase was never over. it was far from it. it’s been quite some time since you agreed to date him and it was one of your best choices yet. two years and still going strong, it feels like there’s more to fred weasley to love day by day. the new things you learnt about him made you love him more. and any disagreements that came your way, resolved together felt like levelling up in life and in relationship through growth and communication. it felt like two pieces of a puzzle coming together, finally completing each other.

it was the same for said boy, too. (but we’ll save that for another time, let’s focus on you this time around)

at any moment, he’d find an opportunity to make you feel like you’re the luckiest person alive. and when that feeling subsides, he does it all over again, even at times he didn’t appear to be trying. oftentimes, his glances, the way he cares for you, the little things he notices; those were everything to you. how he has a hand on your lower back as you walked, or how he’d pull the chair open for you or snatching your books away as he accompanied you to your next class. fred was a touchy person, more so when it involved you - he can’t take his hands off you. and when he can’t find the words, or show you the way he feels... well... there’s one answer to that.

a bang. 

surely, that’s one of the things that led up to his reputation - and that’s exactly how he plans to show you. he squeezes your hand and you slow down on your chewing to gaze at him in the middle of katie’s little ramble to the whole gang. you swallow down the food in your mouth and he points to under the table, where you reach for the note he’s placed between the pair of you. he then leans in to whisper into your ear, “read it later during herbology,” and you nod silently, easily slotting it into your pocket and return to listening to katie’s story.

though on the outside you seem to have it together, deep down, your heart was racing at the thought of what it could be. fred was never one to be on the down-low with his advances, and it only got progressively more and more daring in public when the pair of you got together. you try not to press too much on it for now, enjoying fred’s fingers between your own beneath the table and basking in the tranquil of the morning shared with your friends.

//

although you had been rather good at keeping your facade up for the whole day, you had to admit, you were curious what was up fred weasley’s sleeves. the boy was super excited as well and you could tell. throughout the class today, he still wouldn’t let slip to what he has planned. not even george would tell you when you tried to prod for more information; swiftly directing you away from the topic (and back to your seat). it only affirms your suspicions that george is in on it too...

angelina notices your furrowed brows towards the end of class, poking your arm with a grin, “what’s going on in that head of yours, y/l/n?”

you pout as you reach for the piece of parchment fred had slipped into your hands earlier, now passing it for her to scan through the words.

“weasley’s handwriting is ghastly,” she comments, and you laugh quietly but still flick her forehead, “alright, alright, sorry mrs. weasley,” she giggles in response, but upon reading the note properly, she sighs, “well, guess it’s another one of his grand scenes again, isn’t it?”

the note reaches back to you and you frown at the words you’ve deciphered earlier:

love, after dinner come out to the courtyard. got a little surprise for you ;)

- your favorite ginger, freddie

“he better not,” you mumble under your breath, recollecting how he pulled a stunt during valentine’s day that even got you in trouble. you’ll admit, your heart swooned at the sight of him bursting heart balloons and making it rain chocolate but it just so happened a balloon exploded in front of professor snape’s face. even when fred pleaded for you not to get involved, snape... wouldn’t be snape if he had listened and granted all of you detention for two weeks. not only that, he was a little bit harsher on fred soon after, which only made you somewhat sad. fred could handle it, of course he could, but it doesn’t make you feel better knowing this situation happened because he absolute adores surprising you like this.

you look over your shoulder to see fred chatting with george animatedly past the plants. it seems like your stare can travel past the air when fred takes his turn to listen to george speak, ever so casually gazing your way as well. he stops george mid-sentence, the weasley twins now looking at you and you lift up the piece of paper, shaking your head with a small frown, to which they easily translate to: please don’t do it.

george chuckles and shakes his head, the same time fred lifts a finger up and wiggles it disapprovingly, to which you translate to: not a chance, love.

well, so be it then. if fred is aiming to be the first person to get expelled for professing his love then... oh god, please don’t get expelled.

//

your stomach is turning upside down the moment you’re done with dinner. the great hall is still filled with people, but it starts to disperse when students get up to leave. your heart drops when you already see fred and george gone, gaping at the sudden lost of the ginger haired boys - how could you have let them slip?!

you rise up to your feet and nudge angelina to follow suit. she links arms with you as you make your way to the courtyard, and she can tell you’re nervous mainly for fred’s wellbeing. she finds it adorable, but you’re a mess inside. of course you appreciated fred’s gestures and his way of showing he loves you, but you’d rather him do it in a way that doesn’t jeopardise his studies... which... you somewhat understand he’d rather much risk it all.

it was simply in fred weasley’s blood. apparently george’s as well when the moment you reach the courtyard, you’re gaping at the pair of them on their broomsticks, as if they had been swirling around to wait for your arrival. it amazes you how they haven’t got caught yet. now that they deserve an award for.

your jaw drops, anxiety fills your bones and you frantically look around in hopes you don’t spot a professor in sight. lee’s voice fills the courtyard as he hollers to the twins above, “y/n y/l/n is in sight!”

“let em’ rip, freddie!”

“when you do, georgie!”

“what the bloody-!” your voice gets cut off when the pair of them swing whatever it is in their hands up into the air, erupting explosions of fireworks out on display. cheers can be heard from the people who have gathered to watch, some from the sidelines, some from past the gaps of the corridors but you... out here in the open as the sparks of blue, red, and yellow intertwined up to paint the night sky. midnight blue, spread across with glitters of white all dancing along in the air and it keeps going.

the shapes morph from hearts, to stars, and you swear you see your initials being spelled out like constellations. your breath starts to quicken at the sight and angelina rubs your arm soothingly to calm you down, but she can already see the glow in your eyes in admiration to fred’s stunt. of course, she chuckles, and you take a side glance to her and playfully nudge her by bumping your shoulder to hers.

“and you wonder why fred does it? when you’re looking at the surprise like that?” she muses, and you shake your head, eyes gazing back up to the sight and your heart is full. “he’s gone mad,” you snort, but angelina knows your true feelings when you squeeze her arm, the firework of hearts now embedded in your eyes instead. 

more people start to gather around and it’s only a matter of time before you’d all get into trouble. but when you look up and manage to lock eyes with fred who looks like he’ll gladly even steal the moon for you if that’s what you wanted, your heart rests easy. we’ll go down together, then.

before you can hold eye contact with the ginger haired boy and express your gratitude, a bunch of girls on the side nudge you for your attention. you turn over to them, along with angelina who raises a brow.

“where on earth did you get him from?” one of them asks, and you didn’t know if they were being serious or not. yet, their tone really sounds like they’re genuinely curious. it makes angelina laugh, already looking away to continue watching the fireworks and you shrug, shaking your head, “honestly, i have no idea,”

“you’re one bloody lucky girl, y/n,”

“yeah,” you breathed, watching how wide fred smiles at you like you are the world and truly, you were. but fred was the same, if not more to you, too. literal stars in his eyes as he continues to fly around in the air, his movements somewhat coordinated with the on-going fireworks. your eyes are locked on him the whole time, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning too hard. when he slows down on his broom and sways down to you, his eyes remain on you as you release the bite from your lip, smiling face to face at fred,  “i am.”

((”freddie!” you manage to leap into his arms and he catches you, always does. he chuckles when you squeeze him tight around his neck and he’s taking advantage of his grip on you to tug you to the side so at least, you two would somehow have a moment together in decent privacy. he kisses the side of your head, arms wrapping around you to give you a squeeze back. he grins at you when you pull back, one of his hands reaching up to push your hair from your face, “hello there, gorgeous,” his hand then goes back to your waist, now swaying the pair of you idly in the midst of loud chatter of the people around you but somehow, fred only sees you. 

“did you like the surprise?” he wiggles his brows, earning a grateful nod from you, “i love it freddie,” you admit shyly, feeling heat rising to your cheeks and fred resists the urge to openly snog the heck out of you, willing to hold back... for now, at least. “you always make me feel like the luckiest person alive,” 

he frowns, brows knitting together, “hey! don’t go around stealing my line,” his nose scrunches up in disapproval, “’m supposed to say that!”

“oh, you’ve surely said enough with those fireworks,” you snort, hitting the back of his neck gently. he opens his mouth to say something - if you had to guess, probably something along the lines of ‘reckon i could’ve said a whole lot more’ because fred believes life’s too short to not go out with a bang - but you quickly place a finger on his lips, beating him to it.

“speaking of, lay low a little, please?” you huff, “wouldn’t want to explain to molly and arthur that you got expelled just to profess your love to me,” fred reads between the lines and it’s code words for please don’t get expelled and not try to complete your studies or ruin your remaining time in hogwarts just for this. the amount of love and care you had for him was insane and he never knew someone could love him like this before. it made his heart feel like it was floating in his ribcage.

“i’ll try, i guess... if you give me a kiss?” he raises a brow, even though he knows it’s not a question that had any other answer than leaning in with a grin, aiming for his puckered lips, only to be-”mr. weasley,”

you don’t know if you’re grateful that at least, it wasn’t professor snape. instead it was professor mcgonagall who’s pulling fred by the ear. he yelps in response, refusing to let go of his arms on your waist until you brush his hands off. for a moment he looks a little hurt, but you can tell he’s just being playful.

“p-professor,” you lower your head, and she only tuts at the pair of you, but more towards-”i expect to see you in detention, mr. weasley,” her hand extends out to the side and she grabs ahold of-”this mr. weasley as well,” george groans when professor mcgonagall drags your weasley by the ear, and the other by his robe. “your time starts now,” she sternly reprimands, nudging them to the side to make their move and you frown and keep your head down when she turns to look at you.

yet, she doesn’t say much, only dusting your robe and offering you a small smile, to which you return as well. “i’m still surprised how you’re with mr. weasley but,” she leans in and you instinctively do the same, “as sweet as that was, do keep it under the covers. wouldn’t want to expel him,”

you let your reaction get the best of you by saying: “that’s what i said-!” you notice your outburst surprises her and you quiet down, “w-will do, professor, thank you,”

she lets a soft chuckle escape before clearing her throat to the rest of the-”students, off to bed!”

“but professor! look at how pretty she is! not even a kiss?!” fred hollers just as he’s a good distance away, his voice echoing in the courtyard as it blends with laughs from some of the students. you can’t help but keep your eyes away from anyone staring and angelina swoops in to drag you back to your dorm, but not until you’re able to blow a kiss to fred and bid him goodnight without words.

“look at that! so gorgeous! so unfair-ah!” fred yelps and you hear a smack, to which you can only make up is from professor mcgonagall when they disappear in the halls and you’d have to wait until tomorrow morning to give fred that kiss he’s earned... a few kisses, at least.))

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 2)

This is the second chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Feel free to write comments in the tags or send me messages about this. I love feedback!

16 and 14 years old

Pidge Gunderson. I am Pidge Gunderson.

Katie looked herself in the mirror, trying to convince her brain that the image reflected was hers, that it was a boy, with no previous links to the Garrison, someone who had wanted to go into Communications.

It didn’t really work. All she saw was Matt: his glasses; his short, unkempt haircut; his nickname for her.

Maybe it was better like this. Katie had initially meant to immerse herself in this new identity, to go so deep into Pidge Gunderson that no one would be able to see past the cover, but the truth still kept slipping through her defenses. Katie was a Holt and her family was missing, so she was gonna find them. Pidge was just a tool.

It would be easier if there weren’t so many risks in studying at the Garrison.

Her father hadn’t brought her around often, but Katie had become infamous among the night-time security for her excursions to discover sensitive information regarding the Kerberos mission. Iverson, in particular, was probably expecting a new advance on her part.

He hadn’t recognized her, yet.

Sometimes Katie worried that she’d already been exposed and that they were just gathering evidence before actually making a move against her. If the Garrison was willing to lie about her father’s and brother’s deaths, then she couldn’t overlook the possibility that corruption ran deep within the organization.

She sighed, tugging at the ends of her hair.

“Come on, Gunderson!” she heard someone shout from outside her door. “You’re coming to lunch with us whether you want to or not!”

Lance continued to make noises, probably talking to Hunk. They usually threatened to hack into her keypad if she didn’t come out to join them for meals. Katie couldn’t really understand their stubbornness. She might have appreciated their offer of friendship back in Middle School, when she’d felt ostracized by her peers, but now it was just another hazard to her already convoluted plan.

“Go bother some poor girl, McClain!” Katie shouted in response, feeling more inpatient than strictly necessary.

She knew that Lance meant well, but she didn’t have time for his hijinks. Katie had a duty to her family, first and foremost, and any effort spent placating her teammates was a waste in that regard. Not to mention that Lance had a knack for attracting attention that completely opposed her own need to remain unseen.

Her door slid open with an elegant swoosh.

Katie poked her head from the bathroom to glare at the two boys who stood there. Hunk had the sense to look ashamed, but Lance just grinned.

“It’s bonding time, Pidge!” He stepped into the room, arms wide open. His easy smile was the same as ever, despite the news they’d received earlier that day about their performance stats. It was probably why Lance was there, after all.

Katie actually felt a little bad about the whole thing. She wasn’t particularly invested in training as a communications officer and, though she wouldn’t say it affected her retainment of the knowledge demanded from her, it certainly translated into frustration when they were in the simulator.

She wasn’t much of a team player, Katie could admit.

“If you’re trying to get on my good side, this is not how to do it,” she grumbled, trying her best to keep her voice low. Too much of a change would eventually weight on her vocal cords or sound plain ridiculous, but a difference in pitch and speech patterns were certainly necessary to disguise her true identity. Thankfully, any slip up could be attributed to puberty, as she’d been seeing many of their male classmates endure the difficulties of cracking voices.

Lance took her by the shoulders and shook her indiscriminately. “Quit being the worst!” His cheerfulness hid the vexation that Katie knew he truly felt. “We’re having burgers today, so I’m not letting you bring us down.”

She snickered. Lance was notorious for his love of junk food, despite Hunk’s attempts to get them more nutritious meals. He frequently spoke about his mother’s cooking but didn’t seem to have that same interest in the dietary plan prepared by the Garrison.

Katie couldn’t really fault him for that. Their meals were usually so blend that they seemed to withdraw taste from any of the condiments added.

From behind Lance, Hunk had finally gathered enough courage to come in. He looked around in such false innocence that Katie might have believed him, hadn’t she caught him going through her drawers the previous week. That boy was nosy as hell.

Just another reason to keep them away.

“If I go with you to the cafeteria, does that mean I can get you out of my room?” She fixed them with a stony look.

“For a time,” Lance offered, all cheeky and bright and annoying.

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder, pulling his friend back from Katie. “We noticed you didn’t eat yesterday, again.” He sighed. “If you took better care of yourself, we wouldn’t come here so often.”

Katie let that reasoning sit with her for a bit. She usually sneaked granola bars and other less-perishable types of food into her room to eat while she worked, but it was true that she didn’t really sit for meals unless the boys pushed her. She didn’t think they would notice.

It brought a strange warmth to her chest. She’d felt cold for so long now, always at arm’s length from those around her. Her mother had tried, but she was grieving and her suffering filled her until there was no more room for her daughter. These small kindnesses had gone away with Matt.

She struggled not to reach into her pocket for the picture she kept of them. Hunk had a curious soul and Lance was a gossip; they had almost caught her one too many times.

“I guess I did want your input on how to recalibrate this old radio I found in the junkyard…” Katie huffed out a breath, which the boys took as a surrender.

“Ah, nothing like the smell of oil and grease to really improve the day!” Lance put an arm around her shoulders, but she quickly dodged away, lest he recognize anything different about her body. Even though she was already pretending to be a boy, Katie didn’t want to also have to pretend to be trans. It was a line that she dared not cross, morally.

She felt the dysmorphia more acutely than she’d imagined she would. As a child, she had enjoyed cutesy things and dresses and her long hair. The sudden departure from those possessions was supposed to remove her from her previous identity, but Katie would always know the truth. There was no escaping it.

More than anything, it was the inability to choose that left her frazzled. The loose clothes and glasses and boyish haircut didn’t bother her and they did give her a liberty that more feminine wear didn’t, but Katie wished the circumstances allowed her to be a girl too, sometimes.

Alas, here she was, stuck between Hunk and Lance as they basically escorted her to the cafeteria. Matt would have a conniption if he ever found out there were boys breaking into her room at all times of the day.

“You thinking about those amazing fries we’re gonna get?” Lance sighed dreamily. “Honestly, I don’t know how they do it. Every other meal freaking sucks, but then Monday comes around and the cooks just nail it!”

Hunk chuckled, nodding along. “They probably want to put us in a good mood for the week. Everybody knows that getting back to classes after the weekend can be hard.”

“Hard? It’s impossible.” Lance dragged his hands through his face. “I nearly fell asleep during Arithmetic today. Professor Reeves is such a bore!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep if you didn’t spend Sunday nights in town,” Katie quipped before she could stop herself.

“Yeah, well,” Lance floundered. “What’s your excuse, then? You won’t come with us, but you still look dead on your feet in the mornings!”

“I’m just not a morning person.” She crossed her arms, turning away from Lance.

In doing so, however, she came face to face with Hunk, who was staring at her with an inquisitive look. He was less loud about it than Lance, but it was clear that he also had questions about what Katie spent her time doing.

She tightened her arms around herself, feeling her stomach drop.

This was why Katie didn’t like to talk to them. It was usually easy to ignore Lance, because of how over-the-top he was, but Hunk’s gentleness and concern made the guilt rise within her. She didn’t want to involve other people in her lies, didn’t want them to believe Pidge was their friend only to be faced with a betrayal.

And that’s how they would see it, wasn’t it? Katie didn’t have a lot of experience with friendships, especially not ones as deep as Hunk and Lance’s, but no sane person would take it lightly to find out someone had lied about their whole identity and motivations.

Besides, if she ever did find out what the Garrison was hiding, it could possibly affect the future of the organization and disrupt the trajectory of every student there.

Before Katie could go further into her spiraling thoughts, she felt Hunk maneuver her into the cafeteria line. She had tuned out the rest of their conversation and now Lance spoke of a girl in his Aerodynamics class.

She ignored his ramblings. Lance tried to project this image of a lady’s man, but the few dates he’d scored since they started school never seemed to really move forward. They ended up in an endless cycle in which Lance fixated on some girl, hit on her endlessly, then finally gave up and went crying to Hunk.

Katie couldn’t see the appeal of it, but it most likely had to do with Lance’s self-esteem and need for validation.

“I think Jiya might actually like me!” he declared, despite how both Hunk and Katie were more focused on filling their trays with food. “Whenever the teacher asks me to stay behind and clean up, she stays to help! That has to mean something!”

Katie collected her juice box and went to sit down, pointedly ignoring Lance’s questions.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hunk said agreeably. He didn’t sound too sure, but his expression showed that he was trying to be positive for Lance’s sake.

“Or, you know, the girl is just a nice person who thought you were being picked on by the teacher.” Katie raised her eyes to give Lance an unimpressed look. “And you’re reading too much into it.”

The boy scowled at her. “What would you know, Pidge? I’ve never seen you with a girl before.”

“Yeah,” she raised an eyebrow, feeling smug that the other two wouldn’t understand the humor in this. “What do I know of girls?”

Katie had to suppress a laugh when Lance turned to her with a very confused expression. Hunk, however, gave her a small, secretive smile that set off all kinds of warning signs.

“I don’t get it,” Lance complained to Hunk, then turned back to her. “I don’t get it!”

“Well,” Hunk started and immediately her heart started pounding in her chest. Outwardly, Katie tried to remain impassive. “The girls in our class all love Pidge.”

“They do?!” Lance burst out, eyes widened. His gaze shifted back and forth between her and Hunk.

They didn’t, Katie was pretty sure. Did they?

“They think he’s cute,” Hunk confirmed, waving his fork in the air as if trying to recall the exact words. “Pidge is quiet, but he’s smart and mostly polite, so Denise decided he was a good guy and the rest of the girls kinda followed her lead.”

Now that Katie thought about it, it was true that she’d helped Denise with her Bio homework and that people had been nicer to her since. She supposed they could see Pidge in a good light, especially because he seemed so much younger than the other students in Engineering.

Katie blinked rapidly to dispel her thoughts. She’d been thinking of Pidge in the third person, again.

“Fine, then.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Katie. “What miraculous advice do you have for me, oh Great Pidgeon?”

Despite his sarcasm, it was clear that Lance truly wanted an answer. It was one of the most ridiculous situations Katie had ever found herself in.

“How about you show some interest in what these girls like, instead of showboating around them?” She flicked a fry at him, which Hunk quickly stole for himself. “Sure, some people want to be impressed, but we all got into the Garrison and a lot of them already know your grades on the simulator. Most girls want someone who will listen and who they can have fun with.”

“I can be fun!” Lance protested.

“I get what Pidge’s saying, though,” Hunk intervened. Katie hadn’t meant to be harsh, but Lance suddenly looked a little deflated. “We know that you’re great, but you’re always so busy trying to be what these girls want from you that you don’t really get to know them. A little kindness goes a long way.”

Katie nodded along, munching on her burger. “No girl wants an egocentric boyfriend,” she added, mouth still half full. Lance glared at her in both disgust and indignancy.

“I don’t want to hear this from you, Mister I’m-not-here-to-make-friends!”

She shrugged and continued to eat her burger.

“Okay, okay…” Hunk put his hands up placatingly. “How about I get us some dessert and we change the subject?”

Lance glanced at him through the corner of his eyes. “Those guava-flavored popsicles?”

“You know it!” Hunk grinned back at him and the two shared a high-five.

“You’re so easy to please,” Katie commented once Hunk had gotten up. She used her last fry to soak up the mayo leftover on her plate.

Lance glared at her for a moment, before letting the last of his annoyance slip away. He reached into his backpack and took out an apple.

“Here.” He deposited it on her tray.

Katie frowned at him. “What is this?”

“You always eat fruit after we get something greasy, right?” he asked it casually, distracted by trying to squeeze ketchup onto his remaining fries. The condiment bottles in the cafeteria were continuously blocked.

“Yeah.” She blinked up at him, caught by surprise. Her voice had gone soft and she had to clear her throat to dispel the emotion that knotted there. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

Lance looked up from his food to give her an exaggerated eye-roll.

“You’re my friend, Pidge.” He kicked her under the table. “In spite of all your efforts to keep me away.”

She stayed silent for a moment, staring at the apple.

“Thank you,” she said. I’m sorry, she wanted to add, but it would make no sense to him. As far as Lance knew, Pidge was cold and self-involved and clinical to a fault.

“Don’t mention it!” He threw a fry up and tried to catch it with his mouth, but it merely bounced off his nose, marking it with ketchup. “Dang! One more!”

Katie let out a breath of laughter. Then, sitting up to better her odds, she waved at Lance. “Try me.”

By the time Hunk returned, Katie was biting into her apple as Lance complained about the ketchup stains he’d gotten on his uniform jacket.

--

She didn’t know what had driven her away from the dorms that day. There was a restless energy within her that demanded space and, though she’d never been the biggest fan of nature, it had sent her directly into the Arizona desert.

Katie felt like Pidge, today. Not like Pidge Gunderson, but like the little girl who’d yelled a misheard swearword at locked doors, until her brother had come to her rescue. She felt young and impulsive and alive, despite the grief that still weighted on her shoulders.

More than anything, she missed her mom.

In Katie’s eyes, Coleen Holt knew everything there was to know about agriculture and plant life. She was a different kind of genius from her father and brother, possessing a peacefulness about her that none of the other Holts could ever hope for. It had been a comfort through the years of Katie’s adolescence.

Sitting underneath one of the few trees distributed across the Garrison grounds reminded Katie of her grandmother’s place in Italy, where the fruit trees spread as far as the horizon. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sweet smells that rose from the vegetation.

“I wonder if they have lemon trees here,” she murmured to herself.

“I don’t think they do, Pidge.”

Katie lurched back in shock. She felt her shoulder scrape against the tree trunk and had to stretch out an arm to keep from falling. Lance sent her a carefree grin, bent down at the waist to look her in the eye, as he usually did. It irritated Katie to no end, not only for how condescending it was, but because it always put him too far into her personal bubble.

“What are you even doing here, Lance?” she asked once her heartrate had gone down.

“I saw you through a window and thought we could eat together, since Hunk is sick.” He looked pointedly at the half-eaten sandwich she’d tossed in her surprise. “I see you started without me.”

“Well, now I’ll have to buy something else for lunch, so thanks for that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be like that, Pidgeon.” Lance poked her on the ribs. “I even brought you something as a bribe.” And then he extended an apple towards her.

Katie took it, trying to cover up her amusement with exasperation. “Do you think I’m obsessed with apples or something?”

“Next time I’ll bring you a lemon,” he teased.

Maybe it was because she felt more herself than she had in weeks, but Katie snickered at him. While his sanguinity could be exhausting, this time it was a welcome relief from the stagnation she’d fallen under.

Lance pulled out a sandwich from his pack, one of those 30 centimeters subs in Italian bread and multiple fixings, and Katie felt her mouth water at the sight. He must have noticed, because Lance chuckled and broke out one end for her.

“I think this is a palo verde,” he remarked after swallowing his first bite. At a confused look from Katie, he clarified, “the tree. You were talking about it before, right?”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Yeah…” He sounded like he was laughing at her. “I’m Cuban.”

Katie suddenly felt very stupid. He and Hunk had probably mentioned this already, but she didn’t pay them that much attention. It was a little embarrassing, especially when Lance seemed to be memorizing every small piece of information she offered him.

“Oh.” She searched for the right thing to say. “I didn’t know. Your last name sounds American.”

The whole situation left in her a sense of déjà vu. She couldn’t quite remember why, but the words pulled at her memory.

Thankfully, Lance took it in stride. “Our family has been to the US, then back to Cuba, then back to the US for generations. My whole name is actually Lance Serrano Mcclain.”

She nodded. Normally Katie would let the conversation drop and focus on finishing her meal, but she had already decided to take a bit of a break that day, in order to be more attentive at night. It couldn’t hurt to find out more about her teammate.

“So… Palo verde?”

“It means green stick, which seems kind of unfair, because this tree is actually pretty big, especially for the climate around here.” Lance fanned himself. “I hate how dry it gets.”

She almost agreed with him, but, as far as Lance and Hunk were concerned, Pidge Gunderson had no reason to have been outside of Arizona. Instead, she pretended to ponder his comment.

“The desert can be pretty unpredictable. The lack of humidity during the day is bad, but I wouldn’t want to be caught out when the temperatures drop.”

Lance faked a shiver. “Don’t even talk about that! I have too much tropical blood to handle the cold well. Hunk’s Samoan, by the way,” and there was unnecessary emphasis to his words here, “so he’s the same.”

“I didn’t realize both of you weren’t from around here.” Katie could imagine how much they missed their families. Choosing to voluntarily leave so that they could study at the Garrison must have been difficult.

“That’s nice to hear.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He scrunched up his nose, as if he wanted to take back the words as he said them. “You were so cold to us when we first met, we weren’t sure what it was about.”

It was her turn to grimace. Katie hadn’t wanted to seem like so much of a jerk. She could be snappish and patronizing, even with those she loved, but her haughtiness towards her teammates had been a façade created to keep them out. Not that it did any good.

“Ugh, you’re already closed off, again.” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just personal, Lance.” Katie played with the apple in her hands. “I swear it’s not about you two.”

Without looking directly at him, she couldn’t tell what expression Lance was making. He stared at her, letting the silence extend.

Then he popped the last of the sub into his mouth, spreading back onto the grass.

“We will pester it out of you.” She turned to see him grinning. The confidence there was a quiet thing, so much different than Lance’s usual hyperboles and that much more effective. She felt dazed by it. “Eventually.”

Katie had never understood what the girls in her school meant when they talked about crushes. They always seemed frivolous, going on about someone’s hair or how handsome they were or how strong. Meanwhile, Katie had simply hoped for a friend, for a respite to the unending mocking.

Still, Lance suddenly looked very interesting under this light. His chin was too pointed to be considered attractive, but his blue eyes caught the sunshine like polished stone. He could be funny and thoughtful and inventive, attributes Katie hadn’t expected to value.

She moved her gaze to where another group of students was sitting, uncertain if the heat running up her neck would translate into a damning blush. She bit into the apple to keep from incriminating herself further.

[wintersilentdinners]

Day 17: Blanket Fort

Welcome to Fluffytown

Summary: Simon and Baz are spending the holidays at Pitch Manor. Simon just wanted to take a nap, but Mordelia has other plans...

Word Count: 1545

This was heavily inspired by the blanket fort episode of the tv show Community. If you want to see their epic blanket fort in all its glory, watch this clip.

Read on AO3

I take a deep breath, appreciating the fresh forest air. I love going on runs when I’m at home for the holidays. The scenery is gorgeous, and it reminds me of playing football, which I dearly miss. 

As I approach the manor, I can’t help but smile when I remember who’s inside. My family is, sure. It’s been great to see them, even though Mordelia can be a pain in my arse, and Fiona makes suggestive faces whenever Simon and I walk into a room. 

Simon. It’s him I’m more excited about. He said he was taking a nap when I left for my run. I think he ate too much at lunch and needed to sleep it off. Typical. Disgustingly, my heart swells just thinking about him. This is our first real Christmas here together, and it’s been wonderful. Simon fits in with my family surprisingly well, and I love watching him play with my siblings.

Taking a huge swig of my water bottle, I let myself in the house. It’s strangely quiet, so the kids might be down for naps. “The kids” includes my boyfriend, apparently. 

I walk up the steps to my room, panting. My hair is slick with sweat and has somehow fallen in my face in spite of my headband. I recognize that I probably reek, but I want to kiss Simon before I shower.

Smiling, I open the door to my room, prepared to creep over to the bed and softly wake him up. Instead, I’m greeted by an angry Mordelia.

“Baz! You are not allowed in here!” She guards a pile of blankets with folded arms.

“What have you done with Simon?” I grumble.

I hold back a laugh as Simon pops his head out beneath the blankets. I need to maintain my anger for Mordelia’s sake. If she knew I found this even slightly funny, she’d hijack Simon more often.

“How did she wake you up for this?” I ask.

“Never had the chance to sleep,” Simon shrugs.

“I think we’ve answered enough of your questions,” Mordelia says, turning to Simon. She points down, and he immediately sinks back into the fort.

“I’m showering, and then you’re cleaning this up,” I say, turning away from the door.

“Did you hear something, Simon?” I hear Mordelia ask.

“Nope!” Comes a voice muffled by blankets.

I roll my eyes, but a smile creeps its way onto my lips. I love that the two of them get on so well. I take a long shower, trying to warm my bones from the chilly December air, and then head downstairs for some tea. Might as well indulge them a little longer.

In actuality, I end up indulging them for a few hours. I take my book to the study and get so warm and content by the fire that I have no intention of moving. If Simon needed me, he would come find me. He knows I end up here, reading by the fire, at least once a day. 

We’re three days into our stay at the manor, and Simon and I have gotten into a nice routine. It always involves me reading for a bit while he goes and plays with my siblings or watches a movie. It’s nice, almost domestic.

Finally, I snap out of my reading trance as Mordelia marches into the study.

“Basilton. You’ve been summoned to your quarters. The builders have finished the renovations,” she says, then promptly walks away.

How much have they done? I don’t have much time to think, because I realize I’m meant to be following her. As Mordelia opens the door to my room, I can’t help but gasp. They’ve basically turned my entire room into a blanket fort. 

The blankets are strewn together so that it almost looks like one big quilt. Upon closer inspection, I realize the fort is a quilted mess of sheets, blankets, and shower curtains. I’m sure Daphne will be happy about that. From here I can see that they’ve strung Christmas lights through the whole thing, which sort of gives it a nice atmosphere. The pillows they’ve added to cushion the floor and serve as seating make it feel cosy. Crowley, I can’t believe I’m saying all this about a blanket fort.

Simon emerges from the entrance, and I have no idea how he fit in there with his wings. “Welcome to Fluffytown!” He exclaims, looking proud of himself.

“This is amazing,” I say, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“Shut up, Baz. I know you love it,” Mordelia rolls her eyes. She’s gotten quite good at doing that since we last visited. 

“Can I give you the tour?” Simon waves his arm to the entrance ceremoniously.

I follow behind him reluctantly, both of us crawling on our hands and knees. I have to be careful not to trip over Simon’s tail, but it seems like they’ve made the sides extra wide and tall for him. It’s sweet, really. The fort is mostly one long tunnel, but occasionally another tunnel intersects it. Simon keeps saying ridiculous things like down that hall is the teddy bear room, and over there is the Turkish district.

“Over here,” Simon points to a small alcove to our left, “is the Belgian chocolate tasting room.”

“I’m not engaging in this make believe, Simon,” I mumble.

He turns around to face me, incredulous. “It’s not make believe, Baz. It’s literally the Belgian chocolate room.” Apparently my face still shows my disbelief, because he drags me in.

Somehow, it really is a Belgian chocolate room. They’ve taken our stash from the kitchen and put it on the makeshift table.

“Care to try our dark chocolate with nuts?” Simon wriggles his eyebrows at me.

I settle on the cushions next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Fine,” I say. “You win. I believe in the magic of the blanket fort.”

“I knew you would!” Simon smiles. “You’re a romantic at heart, Basilton.”

I roll my eyes at him, but press a kiss to his cheek. “What chocolate were you trying to woo me with earlier?”

“Oh nevermind that,” Simon says. “We’re saving the rest for Mordelia.”

“The rest?” I raise my eyebrows.

Simon’s cheeks flush. 

“He ate a lot,” a voice in the doorway answers.

We both jump. Mordelia snuck up on us like the little spy she is. 

Her eyes look from me to Simon, then back to me. “You two are gross. I’m going to the teddy bear room.”

“She’s a great kid,” Simon says, his voice low.

“Only for you. She’s fascinated by you.” I’m surprised at how soft my voice has gotten.

Simon nods. “I’m quite special.”

“Mm.” I kiss the triangle of moles on his neck.

Simon smiles, bending down to kiss me. I hate to admit it, but this whole thing is perfect. The blankets make this place really comfortable, and I’m sitting next to my favorite heater. I smile into the kiss, which just makes Simon lean in deeper. 

“I love this pillow fort thing, but where are we going to sleep tonight?” I ask when we pull apart.

“Don’t worry, there’s a tunnel that leads to the bed,” Simon says absentmindedly, his hands running through my hair. “Also, it’s a blanket fort, dear.”

“Is Mordelia sleeping in here tonight?”

Simon laughs, moving to see me better. “Oh, yeah. She built herself a little room and is planning on sleeping on cushions.”

“Little devil,” I mutter. 

“I heard that!” Mordelia shouts from the teddy bear room.

“We didn’t have the budget for sound-proofing the place,” Simon says sheepishly.

I scoff. “She just proved my point.”

“I think what I have to show you will make you forget about Mordelia,” he smiles. 

I follow him further into the maze of blankets. We pass the entrance to the bed (hallelujah!) and a library, Simon narrating all the way.

“Here we are!” Simon announces, “The music wing!”

My record player is set carefully atop a table, tiny fairy lights wrapped around it. This room has more cushions than any of the others so far. It feels like laying on a cloud. I settle in as Simon puts on music.

A wave of calm washes over me, and I close my eyes to soak it in.

It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say Merry Christmas

I love “The Christmas Waltz,” which is a secret I keep locked deep in my heart. I realize that I may have mentioned it to Simon once, against my better judgement.

“Who’s singing this?” I ask as Simon lays down next to me. He flops down on his stomach, propping himself up with his arms.

“She & Him,” he explains. “It’s one of Mordelia’s records.”

“Of course,” I laugh. 

Apparently already tired of holding himself up, Simon moves over to rest his head on my chest, wrapping his arms around me. Even his tail curls around my ankle. I sigh, content.

We stay like that for what feels like forever, just listening. I’m surprised at how much I enjoy this version. I’m warm and happy, and my heart is full of love. 

“I’m happy you came this year,” I breathe.

“Me too.”

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Helping Hands - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Loki shows Haley a bit more of the world she hadn’t had the opportunity to discover. Tony and Bruce begin testing and a painful truth comes to light.

Chapter Warnings: Needles, Implications of neglect, light descriptions of injury

A/N: I was absolutely stunned by the response for the first chapter! It definitely motivated me to get this next bit out to you! Thank you again to @vodka-and-some-sass for Betaing for me!

“Um, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Haley?”

It was odd to address a room like it was a person, even after Tony had explained in the simplest terms possible the AI that lived in every fiber of the tower that would be her new home. She hadn’t left her room yet, choosing to stare out of the tinted windows at the bustling city below. It was awe-inspiring, to know that so many people existed, going about their lives without any knowledge of the horrors behind her eyelids. Now the city sparkled with glowing lights darting around beneath her, chasing away the darkness from the overcast sky. Did anyone sleep?

Odder still was to be given a name for her own. A moniker not meant to harm her, insult her, or one based solely on the powers that were both a blessing and a curse. Maybe the introduction of a name could be a new start for her. Perhaps a chance to become more than just what she could do for others?

“There isn’t any food in here, and I’m starving. What do they do for food?” she asked, closing her hands over her almost concave stomach as it rumbled loudly as if seconding the meekly asked question.

“In the common area there is a communal kitchen used by all Avengers living on-site. During business hours, various restaurants and the cafeteria are operational for faculty, staff, and visitors on campus,” the pleasant female voice responded, sounding from somewhere over her head.

Haley ran a hand over her spiky short hair, staring at the door as if it would bite her. “And is it business hours?”

“Unfortunately not. But if you follow the map currently on your television screen, it can get you to the kitchen.”

It wasn’t like she had any money, anyway. Didn’t you need money to buy something from a business? Tony had said that whatever she wanted, all she needed was ask, but she doubted that extended to the entire tower. Glancing once at the screen that flickered to life against the wall, she committed it to memory before slipping her socked feet into a brand new pair of sneakers that Pepper had dropped off a few hours ago - along with enough clothing and toiletries to last her an eternity.

Using the hand scanner to leave her room, she hovered in the doorway of her temporary sanctuary, staring out at the shadowed black hallway. Soft light illuminated one end of it, trickling in from the same direction FRIDAY had indicated for the kitchen. She steeled her nerves and anxieties with a deep breath before slowly making her way in that direction, ears perked for any sound that would send her scurrying back to her room. Her body had known hunger before, and it could wait.

A high-pitched whistling sounded from the kitchen when she stepped into a large room which appeared to be solely for relaxing. Various couches and plush armchairs were scattered about in loose formations, some facing bookshelves stacked high with more books than she knew existed, others televisions bigger than her wildest imaginings. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat, large eyes darting to the source of the sound.

Soft footsteps sounded on the shining marble floor, interrupted by the clanking of dishware and a heavy sigh. Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly at an enticing aroma that drifted her way through the air conditioning, and she cursed softly under her breath when the domestic sounds ceased for a split second.

“I will not harm you, little one.”

She was almost positive that voice belonged to Loki, the more outspoken of the group with the intelligent eyes. He hadn’t given her any reason to fear him - yet. Balling her hands up into fists at the shiver of anxiety that coursed down her spine, she stood up as tall as she could manage and followed the sounds and smells into the warmly lit kitchen.

Her assumption had been correct. Loki stood in the middle of the room, swirling a spoon in a steaming cup that clinked quietly with each minute movement. He had exchanged his daunting leather outfit for something much more comfortable. The black, soft-looking pajama bottoms hung low on his hips to reveal a sliver of pale skin just below his fitted white t-shirt. It was startling to see such a change in the intimidating man, who peered at her with a quirked brow.

“Anyone with ears would be able to hear your stomach complaining, and your cheekbones are so sunken it appears painful,” he commented, a hint of sadness lingering on his velvet voice. It wrapped around her, a caress to her frazzled nerves that lowered her hackles just a bit. “What do you like to eat?”

What did she like to eat? Any food she had been given was meager and tasteless, the scraps leftover from Mr. Shaw’s meals or unwanted food to be tossed to the dogs. Food wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, but for fueling her body, keeping her strong enough to heal her owner. Embarrassment flushed down her face and neck as her thoughts came up empty, and her hands twisted together unseen in the confines of her sweatshirt.

If he was bothered by her lack of an answer, he didn’t show it. She got the sense that he didn’t reveal much behind his finely sculpted features. Indifference suited the straight line of his nose and the press of his thin lips. It was… nice to watch the straight line of his back as he bustled about the kitchen, gathering various foods on a plate and pouring a second cup of his steaming beverage. He said nothing, merely tilted his head in her direction before setting the spoils on a vast table with enough seats to fit all of the faces she’d seen earlier on the Quinjet.

She sat at the seat in front of the food at the wave of his hand, shoving her hands beneath her thighs as she watched him take the seat opposite her. He pulled a book from thin air, and she gasped, shrinking back into the wooden chair as if it would swallow her whole. Had he…?

“My apologies,” he purred, the words a warm caress to the fear that had her heart thudding against her ribcage. “Simply a bit of magic, pulling my belongings to me should I need them. Eat.”

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the selection of brightly colored fruits and thick, buttered bread, waiting for him to take the plate from her and laugh at the gall she had to hope for fair treatment. He reached over and plucked a glistening green grape from the bunch on the plate, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly before cracking open the book to peruse the pages.

Magic? He mentioned it so casually, as if it was an understood fact about him. But with how little she knew of the world, it could very well be so. She could take the injuries from others, and that certainly didn’t seem natural. Quickly, she picked several grapes and pushed them into her mouth, resisting the urge to moan at the delicious sweetness that exploded across her tongue. Before she knew it she had the plate held to her chest protectively and she couldn’t eat fast enough. Never had she been given such a veritable feast of such exquisite flavors.

Only when the plate was empty did she look up. Loki acted as if she hadn’t just devoured her meal like a wild animal, regarding his book with quiet curiosity lighting on the furrow of his brow. Her slightly shaking hands gripped her own impossibly delicate cup, warm to the touch from the fragrant beverage within, and she sipped it delicately, afraid of getting burned. The warmth flooded her body, reaching the tips of her toes and unfurling within her with a comfort she was wholly unused to from something as simple as a drink.

“Earl Grey,” he supplied, looking up at her briefly over his book. “The tea. You enjoy it.”

Enjoy. She never got to enjoy anything. But this tea - Earl Grey - and the filling fruit and bread he’d gathered for her, she’d thoroughly enjoyed that. She enjoyed the foreign feeling of fullness in her belly and the layered aroma wafting up from her cradled cup. 

She could even see herself enjoying Loki’s presence, stoic and calm and wholly unbothered by her existence as he allowed her to sit in his shadow. He radiated a strength that she longed to glean for herself.

“I do.” She hummed quietly after taking another warming sip. “Thank you.”

~

“We just want to draw a bit of blood and give you a routine physical. There will be a needle for the blood bit, and then I’ll take your heartbeat with this,” Tony held up a device hanging around his neck, “and check your overall health by just taking a good look at your body. At the end, I’d like to hook up a few monitors and have you do a bit of healing, but only if you’re up for it. How’s that sound?”

Haley shifted uneasily on the cold metal table, casting a quick glance at Loki, who stood still as a statue against the far wall, watching Tony and Bruce with narrowed eyes. He had quietly inserted himself into her presence whenever she had left her room, and it felt right to trust the mysterious man. Loki gave her a quick nod before watching the two men in front of her again, his face lowered so that his long, raven hair framed his face and cast a shadow over the planes of his cheekbones.

“Okay.”

The two men were respectful as they worked around and on her, asking permission before Tony touched the cold metal disc to her chest or Bruce gently squeezed her leg with what looked to be a set of pliers. None of it hurt, and she didn’t even blink when Tony drew several vials of blood from a needle he slid into her arm. Were these men doctors? They didn’t look the part, with Tony’s perfectly styled hair and trimmed goatee, and Bruce’s threadbare button-up shirt that hung on his frame.

A monitor beeped out the drum of her anxious heartbeat for all to hear from sticky pads connected to her chest. Tony had also attached a few to her scalp, all while muttering to himself, “At least she doesn’t have a lot of hair to get in the way.” All of the eyes in the room settled on her, and it took everything she had not to curl up from the weight of their gazes on her bony shoulders.

Bruce stepped in front of her, rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal a small, raised red line across his forearm. He offered her a smile that begged her to relax. “I burnt myself on the oven the other day. Should’ve known better than to try to cook,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh full to the brim with warmth. “Can you heal this?”

Of course she could. But burns were her least favorite to handle. They weren’t any harder for her to heal than any other injury, but the raw, itchy skin was her least favorite. Still, these men had offered their home to her, given her food and clothing and medicine and a place of her very own without demanding entrance to it. This small burn that hadn’t even blistered wouldn’t take long to dispatch at all. A small price to pay.

“I’m going to touch you. Okay?” she asked quietly, mimicking the permission that they had asked of her for the entire time she’d interacted with them. Everyone she interacted with had taken to asking her before doing anything, a luxury and kindness she wasn’t accustomed to. How long would that last after they saw the extent of her abilities? Just until one of them got injured beyond what they were willing to deal with. That was how it worked.

“Bruce.” Loki’s warning came from over her shoulder, thick with veiled threats that she wasn’t certain she wanted to know how he would uphold. Even as he had chipped away at the protective shielding around her heart, she still felt the danger that he posed, carried in his confident stride and unhurried movement. So averse to the showy bravado she was accustomed to, guns waved around and threats growled over hands clutching the collar of her shirt. He didn’t need that. His reputation was enough, it seemed.

Bruce nodded and offered her his arm. His breath quickened beneath his shirt when her thin fingers slanted over his skin, and his pulse practically matched her own ringing in her ears. It was all too easy to direct the rush of electricity beneath her skin through her fingertips in the golden glow she’d come to dread for the pain it promised. Sure enough, she bit her bottom lip between her teeth at the stinging sensation that scratched at her forearm where Bruce’s burn once was, hidden by the thick sleeves of her new favorite sweatshirt.

“Incredible,” Bruce breathed, rubbing his hand over the freshly healed skin as if it were some parlor trick. A common reaction when she first healed someone, before they got greedy and jaded to her powers.

Tony pulled out a pair of yellow-tinted glasses and leaned over a computer, typing away furiously as his eyes darted over all the data he could consume.

“Leave us,” Loki commanded, and the heat of him practically pulsed at her back.

“But, I, this is my lab!” Tony stammered, chest puffing out as he stood up and pulled his glasses off to glare at the man whose breath fanned over the top of her head.

“Come on, Tony, we can have FRIDAY send the data to the other lab.” Bruce dragged the other man out with a hand on his arm, closing the door behind them to leave a deafening silence in their wake.

Loki stalked around the metal table until the front of his thighs almost brushed her knees, staring down at her with too many emotions warring on his face to name. He moved slowly, his hand reaching out to encircle her wrist and seize the fabric tucked beneath her clenched fingers into her palm. His fingertips were calloused, rasping against her skin with the heat of his touch as he slowly pulled up the baggy sleeve despite her pulling away in protest.

“Don’t-”

He flipped her now bare arm over to reveal the burn that had etched itself into her skin, dragging his finger just beside it to make the shiny skin catch the light. “You do not heal them. You take their wounds for your own.”

There wasn’t any use denying it with the evidence grasped in his careful touch. “I do.”

A growl ripped from his throat, feral and animalistic and so terrifying that she pulled her knees up to her chest and held them with one arm wrapped around her shins. He released her from his hold, allowing her to cradle her arm to her body against the conflicting singing of her skin from his touch and painful burn she’d brought upon herself.

“Unacceptable.”

And then he stormed away, leaving her curled in on herself on the table, staring at the door with the intoxicating masculine musk of his cologne still teasing at her nose and the incessant beeping of the monitor betraying her conflicting emotions she couldn’t even begin to place.

~~~

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[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 81

Here we have a bit of fluff mixed in with our main plot. I really enjoy when I have the chance to mix life in with everything else going on, and for this chapter I was able to sprinkle some Maverick and Tyche interaction as well.

Only real trigger warning for this chapter is food, which I am seriously considering just applying to the entire story.  In my real life, family and love revolve around feeding people, so I know that gets threaded everywhere when I write.

I snagged my sister on the way out of Xiomara’s office.  “Hey.” My tone was soft, out of concern for the face I had seen her making earlier when she mentioned Antoine.  “Is everything okay?”

She didn’t even look at me, just opened her datapad and started typing. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded tersely. “Just busy, and honestly I’m a little irritated that Xiomara is going to leave us in the dark about this.” She sighed and shoved a hand through her short-cropped hair.  “You know I hate not knowing.”  Closing her datapad, she sighed and finally looked at me.  Her jaw was clenched tightly and her gaze was so intense that I felt like she was trying to communicate with me telepathically.  “It’s Wednesday.  How do you feel about fish? I could really go for those tacos you make, with tilapia.  Especially now that I can eat them with that mandarin habanero salsa you always moan over.”

I felt the corner of my mouth quirk up at her request. I loved fish tacos, and with the technology on board? It was no longer a labor, and instead was a treat. However, I fully understood the message she was giving me:  Antoine would not be at dinner.  He despised tilapia, and actually referred to it before as ‘fish for people too lazy to use tofu’. 

Also, it was Monday.  She even told me, that morning, how she hates Mondays.  Something was up.

“Yeah, fish tacos sound great.  I’ll even teach you how to make the salsa.”  Instead of even trying to smile, I bit my bottom lip, scrunched my nose, and nodded.  It was a gesture I did whenever she and I were plotting something fun, and no fake emotions were required.

She and I parted just as Maverick stepped over from his conversation with Arthur. “What was that about?” he asked casually.

I tried to wave it off. “Oh, Tyche had a request for dinner tonight.”

Every effort I put into keeping my tone light had been in vain. “It’s Monday, and a certain person hates your fish tacos, because of the fish you use.”  At least he kept his tone equally light.

I shrugged. “Pretty sure she actually knows that, but still.  Do you mind if she comes over?” The question was sincere, despite knowing that he was well aware something was going on.

He laughed at the question. “Of course I don’t mind.  Conor has a late shift, so he won’t be home for dinner anyway.  We can totally manage three people on a Monday.”

“Why is he working so late?” I was honestly confused by this one. “He works Alpha this week, doesn’t he?”

“He does. But they are finally rebuilding the platforms in BioLab 2, and he wants to be present to ensure that there’s not a repeat.”

I sighed, but understood. Conor tended to blame himself for any failure of anything he was even somewhat-adjacent to.  Being in love with him definitely showed me my own tendency to take on too much responsibility.  Which was exactly why I had allowed Maverick and Tyche to convince me to hand our suspicions about the cult over to Xiomara and let her handle it. Bouncing up onto my toes, I gave him a quick kiss.  “Speaking of work and shifts, we still have half of our own to knock out.  I’ll see you tonight.”

He grinned as I brushed a lock of hair out of his face - he really needed a haircut, but it was so soft. “Fish tacos? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Somehow I managed to focus for the next five hours, taking care of thankfully-small agenda items.  Work assignment swaps, housing transfers, and the never-ending list of suggestions and requests for social activities.  Someone really seemed to believe knife-throwing classes would be a hit. Let’s table that for now.  Admittedly I was intrigued, so it would probably be brought up at dinner, just to get some feedback.

I made it to my quarters with just enough time to shower, shouting to Maverick the list of ingredients we needed to make everything.  As much as I wanted to linger - I had finally managed to use the actual shower instead of the sonic scrubber as of a week ago - I had a feeling Tyche needed me more.  I did, at least, remember to put the oil she insisted on in my hair, although she still rolled her eyes when she came in.

“Your hair is a mess, as usual,” she grumbled.  Without hesitation, she grabbed the end of a longer section and held it in front my eyes.  “Oil goes on the tips first, dork.  That’s the old part, so it’s the driest.”

Maverick smirked as he brought over all the ingredients we needed, and I just shrugged. “I at least remembered to put it in there.”

“Will miracles never cease,” she agreed, grabbing a knife and the server of fish filets.  “Maverick, can you heat the oil please? One-seventy-five.”

“One-ninety,” I corrected.  “They’ll never crisp up that low.  One-seventy-five is for the shells.”

“Right,” she nodded, absentmindedly.  I was starting to worry about her using that knife.  However, she seemed entirely aware that she was distracted, because she never put her fingers near the blade. She very carefully held the knife by the handle, with her hand flat on the back of the blade.

I started mixing the spices and flour together, before moving on to shredding the cabbage.  “Miys, please restrict monitoring of my quarters to medical-only, override strictly keyed to myself and Tyche Reid.”

“Understood, Wisdom.  Please remember that restriction is limited to four hours.”

“Thank you, Noah. Can you advise me of the ending of the restriction?”

“Of course.”

A glance over my shoulder showed an approving nod from Maverick.  When I looked back at Tyche, she was wide-eyed.  “Did you really just do that?”

All I could do was snort. “Of course I did.  Clearly you’re worried about Antoine, and you wanted to discuss it in private without him present.  He has medical access to room logs, as I’m sure you’re aware, especially since he’s listed as my primary medical provider on board.  Not recording anything means there is nothing for him to hear, and he’s already aware that we were talking to Xiomara about the cult today, so we can easily say we discussed that.  In fact, I just said it, so it’s not even a lie.”

She sliced the final fillet into strips, scooped them up, and dropped them in the breading with a sigh.  “Thank you.”

Maverick cleared his throat gently.  “Oil’s getting hot….  Tyche, would you be more comfortable if I needed to get more tortillas from the commissary?”

That, at least, got a smile out of her.  “I appreciate the offer, but not only is it okay for you to be here, that is the dumbest excuse you could probably think of.”

“Hey, it was short notice,” he winked at her. “Conor is better at those kind of excuses.”

I pitched my voice low enough to croak. “Oi, I forgot to tell Charly when to be on site tomorrow.  She never wears her databand off work… I’ll be right back.”

“See? That is a much better excuse.” Tyche laughed before turning serious again. “But, no. I need both of your opinions, and Conor’s, too, when you get a chance to talk to him.” She started gently tossing the sliced fish in the coating.  “Antoine has been… off, lately.  Quieter than usual, things are always coming up at the last minute that keep him gone for long periods of time…. Don’t get me wrong, I like my me-time, but I’m starting to get worried.  As weird as it is to use the term in our relationship, he’s been distant.” She stopped, hands limp in the bowl, head down.

“Hug or no hug?” I asked, stepping around the counter.

“No hug.” She shook her head firmly.

I snagged the bowl of fish instead and started dropping it in the oil. “Okay. So, are we worried he’s having an affair, just losing interest….?”

She moved to the sink to wash her hands. “That’s the thing.  I’ve thought and thought and thought about it… You know how I over plan stuff.  And, really, it all kind of goes back to when we first started noticing people behaving suspiciously.” She may have been scrubbing her hands more vigorously than strictly necessary, but that was a good sign.

For what felt like an eternity, the only sound in my kitchen was sizzling oil.  Maverick recovered first.  “Tych.  Sweetie, do you… You think he’s mixed in with all that?”

“I don’t know,” she moaned, more irritation than fear. The nail brush clattered in the sink.  “The timing is just weird as hell.”

I scooped the first batch of fish out and dropped the next, careful not to gesture with the spider strainer and flick hot oil everywhere. “Okay, so.  Let’s start at the worst case scenario. Say Antoine is involved with this cult.  The suspected leader is a survivalist with very Norse-oriented leanings, who thinks that we are moving from Ragnarok to our new beginning.  Yes, they are antisocial enough for the two of us,” I pointed emphatically between myself and my sister, “to think they are going a wee bit overboard.  But, what percent probability is there that Antoine will actually stick with a group of people that rude?”

She tipped her head side to side with a grimace.  “He spent the End holed up in a senior care facility and robbing people for heart medication.  I’m going with ten percent?”

“So, statistically possible, and we have a baseline probability.”  I took a deep breath. “In that vein, this also started after the thing with Else. Which, I want to remind y’all, involved him butting heads with his direct superiors, putting me in a couple of comas, trying to figure out what a delirious Grey was trying to say - filtered through a couple of non-medical people, all while sick himself.”

“So he may just be exhausted?” Maverick asked for clarification.

“Or fed up,” I shrugged.

She nodded reluctantly, snatching the strainer to take out the second batch of fish before I burned them. “Even conservatively, that’s more in the eighty-to-ninety range.  Either of them, really.  I doubt he expected to sign on as a sidekick to the Futuristic Winchester Sisters.”  After adding the next batch to the oil, she groaned. “Fuck. This means I have to actually confront him, doesn’t it?”

I smirked involuntarily and started dicing onions for the salsa.  When I grabbed the cilantro, she complained but relented when she saw it was maybe a teaspoon worth, diced fine.  “It’s either ask him, or go by faith that the most likely outcome is the correct one.”  I reached for the next ingredient.

“Cucumber?” She scrunched her nose. “In salsa?”

“Balances out the strong flavors,” I clarified.  After mixing everything together, I set half of it to the side and grabbed two whole habaneros. After trimming out the stems, I started dicing them.

“You have got to be joking,” Maverick begged. 

“Nope,” I popped. “The recipe has four habaneros, so for half it’s only two.”

“But.  The seeds too?  Aren’t they the spicy part?”

“Nah.  That’s the membranes,” Tyche piped up.  “Even I know that, and I couldn’t eat this stuff for decades.”

“Just tell me you left some mandarin pieces for me?” He gave an impressively good puppy-dog eye.

I just laughed.  “Babe, you’re fine, I swear.  I had you get a double batch, so there’s plenty left for you to eat later.”

All the breath in my lungs was forced out in a whoosh as he whirled me around. “You are psychic, and I love youuu!”  My squeals and their laughter drowned whatever worries we had for the night, leaving us all breathless as we finished dinner.

Crisis after crisis? Bring it on. I wasn’t trading this moment for any world. 

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[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Catching Feelings 8/10 (Keanu x OFC)

Summary: AU in which Keanu is down on his luck after he comes to Hollywood trying to be an actor. To earn some money, he joins this app for escorts and meets Steph, a rising star who hires him to try to forget her ex. Neither of them is expecting to fall in love and all the problems it brings. Previous chapters:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Author’s notes: we’re getting closer to the end of this journey. Please grab your tissues for this one.

Wordcount: 3275

Warnings: angst (two fools that can’t communicate).

Keanu paced around the room, his stomach twisted into knots, his lungs feeling like they had been wrapped with rope and squeezed tight. Not enough air seemed to reach them. Bile rose to his throat and it felt like he was about to throw up, but whenever he rushed to the bathroom, he could only manage to dry heave, nothing coming out.

He wanted to punch a wall, break something, maybe that would soothe the seething anger raging inside him, but Keanu knew it was the worst way possible to deal with it. Destruction wouldn’t help fix this. Wouldn’t stop the way his heart ached with every beat.

Rubbing away the treacherous tears that escaped his eyes, Keanu moved to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette to try calm and center himself. Maybe if he could do that he might be able to figure out why Steph would do something like that. Why she would hurt him so viciously.

He understood that she was jealous of the way Cassandra acted around him, but she didn’t even give him a second to explain.

Much like he had done when he saw her with Kevin in the club. He had left without a word. Ignored her for weeks. Keanu guessed he did hurt her too back then. Did she felt like this? Raw and bleeding?

Did she saw the entire scene unfolding on repeat in her mind as if some masochistic part of her needed to prod that wound, like a kid discovering their own injuries? They knew it would hurt, but the couldn’t help but pick at it anyway.

Did it hurt her like it hurt him now? Maybe exposing and humiliating him in front of her friends was payback for that?

He couldn’t see Steph being that petty, but then again, he only really knew her for close to three months. As far as he knew all that sweet and kind persona she always showed him could be all an act. She was an actress after all.

The thought of it once again made a lump rise to his throat and Keanu rushed to the bathroom, dry heaving on the toilet for a few seconds before he wiped the corner of his mouth from drool and dropped to the floor, leaning against the cool tiles of the bathroom.

Why couldn’t he catch a break? His life had been one disaster after another. His father leaving; his mother’s string of failed marriages; his struggles through school; the way he crashed and burned with his acting career, now this?

If he believed in reincarnation, Keanu would say he was a shitty person in his previous life. It was the only thing he could think of that would explain all of this. He brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top of it as he stared at the shower stall. Only hours ago, they were completely happy in there. If he could only turn back time…

Keanu stood up when he heard the electric chime of the door lock, stepping out of the bathroom just as Steph stepped into the room, her makeup smudged for crying. She stared at him, big brown eyes welling up with fresh new tears; bottom lip caught between her teeth as if to stop it from trembling.

He had to force himself to stay still. Keep himself from going to her; catching her in his arms; assure everything would be alright.

“I am so, so, sorry,” she breathed out, voice small and quivering. “What I did was…” Steph trailed off, shaking her head. “I didn’t even know I could be that much of a bitch. I understand if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Steph,” Keanu sighed, leaning against the wall. “It would be easier if I did. I could just leave, but…” it was his time to shake his head, avoid her gaze. “Why? You said you didn’t care. Twice!”

“I know!” her tone went a little high-pitched as she rubbed her forehead. “I really thought I didn’t care… before I realized…” Steph paused, and Keanu could feel her gaze on him, so he looked at her; at the way she chewed the inside of her cheek and fidgeted with the hem of her dress. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, but he saw something else too.

“I love you too,” he admitted with a defeated sigh. Those were the words Keanu wanted to say all weekend, but not like this.

“Then please tell me we can work this out?” Steph begged, coming to stand in front of him, taking his hands in hers. “You can quit Mars and Venus and…”

“And what, Steph?” he asked, pulling his hands away and sidestepping her. “You’ll support me? Pay my bills? I’m gonna be your personal fuck toy?” His words were harsh, design to hurt.

“No!” she rushed to say, stepping closer again but he took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Keanu, that’s not what I meant, I just…”

“Just can’t be seen with a hooker, right?” he said, once again cutting her off and shaking his head. “For your information, you might be ashamed of my job, but I’m not, alright? I’m not doing anything wrong or against the law. I get to support myself, paying for my dreams, help my family…”

“By selling your body!” she exclaimed and Keanu sighed. If he was honest, he had his own reservations about it the whole thing at first, but he learned to see in a different way as time passed.

“You sell your body,” he pointed out earning a startled look from Steph. “You let someone decide who you’re gonna be, what you’re gonna dress, what you’re gonna say… How is that different from what I do? Except for it being legal and morally accepted?”

With a sigh, Keanu rubbed his temples, feeling a headache starting. He was tired of this. Tired of feeling bad and ashamed about what he did. It was a job and nothing more. He could handle if Steph was just jealous. It would suck but they could find a way to fix it. If she couldn’t accept him or his job? There was no way to go from there.

“I’m tired, Steph,” said in a low voice, turning away from her. “Please go.”

He could hear her hesitating, lingering in the room and he could picture the expression in her face: pained. Distraught. Guilty. Heartbroken. But he wasn’t ready to face her again. Not if he wanted to maintain his resolve.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” He barely managed to get the words out through the lump of pain in his throat. The urge to dry heave returning once again, but he forced down.

“Alright.” Keanu heard her taking a deep breath and her steps moving away from him. “If this is the last time we’re gonna speak, there are three things I need you to know.”

Keanu hesitated for a second, before finally looking up at Steph, finding her by the door, hugging herself, eyes downcast.

“What is it?”

“People in the restaurant heard me and started tweeting. By now, most of the gossip sites and magazines must know already. About me and you.”

“So, you want me to deny it?” he asked his tone a little more biting than he planned.

“I’m just letting you know because the press will be all over you and I’m very sorry about that. Do whatever you feel it’s right.” Keanu nodded in reply and waited as Steph hesitated in speaking again.

“The second thing is that I do hope Dogstar takes off. You guys are really good. Mike wouldn’t have signed you if he didn’t agree and he is one of the best music producers out there. And yes, I know him. I didn’t ask him to sign you. He made that decision on his own.”

There were so many things Keanu wanted to say to that, his feelings bubbling on the surface, too entangled for him to make sense right there, but the truth was that he always had a feeling Steph had something to do with it. All of a sudden a famous music producer comes to check them out? They might live in Hollywood, but this wasn’t a movie. Keanu wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just decided to let go for now.

“What’s the third thing?” he said instead, and this time Steph looked up at him, eyes filling with tears again.

“I’ve never felt for someone what I feel about you,” she declared, firm and strong. “I love you, Ke and I’m truly sorry I fucked it up.”

She was walking forward before Keanu could even process her movements, pausing in front of him for only seconds to silently ask his permission, before pressing her lips to his.

The kiss was soft, full of want, much like the kisses they shared while making love the night before and when Steph finally pulled back, all he wanted was to keep her in his arms and pretend none of that had happened. Instead, he let his arms drop to his sides and watched as Steph walked out of the room and his life.

---

Keanu’s eyes ran over the words of the document in front of him. He knew his brother-in-law, who was a lawyer and much more apt for these sort of things, had already gone through it, making sure everything was as it should, but considering it would be Keanu’s name on the dotted line, it didn’t hurt to look it over one more time.

It wasn’t as if he was hesitant about doing this. He knew he wanted to do it. If he didn’t use this money to help his family what would be the point of everything he had gone through the last year?

In the end, all he ever wanted was to have some comfort for himself, for his family, for those he cared about. After all the years of struggle, Keanu could finally do that. It had cost him a high price, but it was too late.

He set the document back on the bank manager’s desk, signing his name in all the marked places before handing it back to the man in front of him. With that, Keanu had just paid off the mortgage on her mother’s house and a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders as the manager excused himself to make a copy of the document, leaving Keanu to his own thoughts.

“It’s really nice what you’re doing, you know?” a woman commented, drawing his attention to her. From her uniform, he knew she was another bank employee. “Helping your mom like that.”

“Just doing what everyone would do,” Keanu dismissed her words with a shrug, eyeing his phone. He needed to get ready for the interview this afternoon.

“Not true, you know?” the woman said, flashing him a smile. She was pretty. Brown hair, big brown eyes, small frame. Reminded him of… Keanu shook that thought of his head, focusing on the girl in front of him not the one in his past. “This is going to sound like a pickup line, but I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Keanu let out a sigh along with a humorless chuckle. There were two ways he could answer this, but considering he was in his home town back in Canada, he knew what was the most likely one. He thought he had moved past this, but apparently, it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Stephanie Walker’s hooker boyfriend,” he declared easily, the words no longer making him feel ashamed or bitter as it once had.

The woman’s eyes widened in recognition and she scurried off without another word, making him snort and think back on what had happened.

The second Keanu stepped out of the hotel room in Paris all those months ago, his failed relationship with Steph had followed him. Paparazzi and journalist hounded and mobbed him asking him for details if the claims of him being a hooker were true.

Keanu didn’t answer of course, but by the time he got back to the States, someone had found his profile on Mars and Venus and leaked to the press. It was all the confirmation people needed and suddenly he couldn’t go anywhere without being cornered by someone asking for an exclusive interview.

People in his life was shocked by the news and Keanu had to have several uncomfortable conversations with his bandmates and Gard and finally his family. They were less than thrilled with discovery but even more worried about the fact that Keanu wasn’t willing to get out of Mars and Venus.

He used the same speech he gave Steph, about being just another job. About only being thought of it as wrong or bad because of morals and that he wasn’t going to give it up. Not when he was managing to help himself and everyone around him.

Robert and Brett accepted it a little begrudgingly. They knew it would follow Dogstar, but maybe Mike could spin it in some kind of positive way. Gard claimed he didn’t care as long as Keanu showed up on time for his day job. It was his mom and sisters that protested the most, but it was hard to ignore the fact that thanks to Keanu’s job, they managed to pay from Karina’s education in full.

With that in mind, Keanu upped his price to ten thousand dollars a night and started taking requests again. He made sure to let people know that he would not discuss Steph in any way. Most of them respected it. A couple still tried to sneak a question or two, but he made sure to shut then off.

He was getting better at the entire thing, shrugging on the persona of Charles as much as he put the designer clothes he used for those dates. It was just a part he played. Not the real Keanu, because this was a job. Just a job. Nothing more.

Keanu really thought he could do it. Keep going like nothing happened. In the first month of the scandal, he pretended not to seem Steph’s face in every magazine, gossip site, and entertainment channels. Even serious newscasts seemed to use her case as a kick-starter to discuss the politics behind legalized solicitation and everything in between.

However, after that first month, everything seemed to calm down and after the first failed attempts at getting exclusive interviews or conning him into talking about the entire thing, Keanu was left alone by the press and he really thought it was the end of it. That they both would get to move on with their lives.

That was until he accepted a date with a woman, and it turned out as one of the biggest mistakes he ever made.  At first, everything seemed fine. They met at a restaurant, talked and laughed over some wine and nice food. She tried to prod a little into his personal life, but Keanu had long learned to dodge those questions.

He took her home and accepted her offer for another drink and that was when she tried to have sex with him. Keanu reminded her of the agreement they made through the chat and she relented, saying her goodnight.

A week later, his profile picture from Mars and Venus was splashed on the web followed by the article that gave him the moniker of Stephanie Walker’s Hooker Boyfriend. The date had been just a way for the journalist to get information on him and make a stupid exposé.

The entire thing was obviously biased against Steph and as a result, it didn’t paint Keanu in a very flattering light. It almost made him reach out to Steph. Apologize for being responsible to bring up the entire mess once more.

Instead, he quitted Mars and Venus for good. He made enough now to be comfortable and Dogstar was getting more and more gigs. The only good thing that came out of the entire thing. Keanu could afford to rely on the band’s profits. Especially once they signed a record deal.

Flash-forward six months and here Keanu was, back in his home country, for a couple of concerts and interviews to promote their first record. Dogstar was going on their first tour as the actual main attraction. People were paying to see them, buying their record and merchandising. Entertainment channels invited them to play and for interviews. They weren’t huge, but they were making their way and it felt good. Almost good enough to hide the gaping hole that still existed in his heart.

Keanu still thought about Steph every day; wondering what she was doing and how she was faring after everything. He dreamt about her and still caught himself looking at the few pictures she had sent him over the month, they spent chatting through facetime.

“You should call her,” Kim declared, making Keanu start and look over at his sister. She was the one that picked him up at the bank and was driving him to the TV studio. They had an interview before the concert Dogstar would play that night. “Steph.”

“Kim…” he sighed and shook his head. Of everyone in his life, she was the only one who knew everything. She was the only one who knew Steph had been more than just a client. That Keanu actually loved her. “I can’t. What she did…”

“Yeah, I know. It was awful, but put yourself in her shoes. Would you feel well and confident if the person you loved went out regularly in dates with other people?”

“I wouldn’t,” he admitted in a low voice. “But I would talk to them instead of hurting them, though.”

“She fucked up, but let’s be honest: she got the shittier side of this mess,” Kim pointed out, looking sideways at him. “Did you know several ad companies cut off contracts with her after the entire thing? And production actually killed off her character in that big movie she was shooting in France so as not to have her name associated with them. She had lost tons of parts and were even blacklisted by a couple of studios…”

“How do you know all this?” Keanu asked with a frown. His sister seemed more well informed than he could ever hope to be.

“This journalist I like wrote a think piece on the entire thing,” she replied. “Don’t worry, they didn’t mention you. Not directly anyway. It was more focused on how Hollywood is such a misogynistic place and used Steph as evidence. They compared her case with this other actor’s who was caught with a hooker when solicitation was still illegal and absolutely nothing happened to his career. He’s still going strong. It’s not fair.”

He really hadn’t thought about it that way. Considered the impacts of the entire thing for Steph. Keanu knew her world was unforgiving, but he didn’t know she had lost this much… He could only imagine how she was doing. Steph loved her job. That much he knew. And she risked everything by being with him and she was suffering the consequences of it while the worst he got was a stupid nickname.

“Can you send it to me? The article.” Keanu asked once she pulled out in front of the studio. Kim nodded, giving her brother a hug.

“Knock them dead. In there and tonight,” she said, kissing his cheek. “And think about what I told you.”

“I will.”

xxx (tbc) xxx

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[pindaleng]

Merry Pitchmas @c-k-mack​!!! Hope you’re having a happy holiday :)

Title: There’s something ‘bout when I see ya, think I need a drink

Pairing: Junksen

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2467

Summary: It's Emily's first holiday party with her new coworkers, and there's one in particular she wants to impress. Or at least not look like a fool in front of. Should be easy...right?

Emily paced nervously in front of the apartment door, rehearsing her greeting. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this nervous. Close to her chest, she held a homemade pie. Apple. The favorite of the host’s.

On top of the pie was a bag of cookies in case she was wrong about the pie. Just to cover all her bases. She was pretty sure no one could hate chocolate chip cookies.

Emily muttered to herself. “Hi, long time no see! No that’s dumb...Hey there homie, happy holidays! I can’t believe I just said that…”

It was her first company party after starting her new job, and she really wanted to make a good impression. She liked all her coworkers, and was pretty sure they all liked her, but that was all in the workplace. There was something different about being out-of-office cool.

Emily jumped as the door swung open, revealing Aubrey in a green holiday sweater, decorated with reindeer and snowflakes.

“I thought I heard someone out here. You want to come in?”

“Um yeah, I’d love to.”

So that could have gone better.

Continue reading on Ao3 or below :)

It was only a couple of days ago that Emily figured out her massive crush on Aubrey.

She was with her coworker Beca at lunch in their building cafeteria, and going on and on about how cool and great and smart Aubrey was. And how happy it made her every time Aubrey said her name, in person or over email. She was sure Beca stopped listening to her five sentences ago, as she probably heard Emily’s spiel a thousand times before. Yet, Emily still felt the need to express all the amazing things about Aubrey Posen. She got to listing all the pretty intricacies of Aubrey’s smile when the epiphany hit her like a ton of bricks.

Oh.

The sudden and unusual silence must have pulled Beca’s focus from her phone. “Dude you okay?”

“I have a crush on Aubrey!” Emily shout-whispered across the table. “Oh my god Beca what do I do?”

Beca shrugged. “Beats me, Em. I don’t know, just tell her?”

Emily glared daggers at her friend. “Easy for you to say. I know you and Chloe pined over each other for seven years and she was the one that ended up telling you.”

“Well, that seems a little dramatic.”

“We both know that it’s true.” They engaged in a brief staring contest before Emily broke and pouted. “Help meeeeee.”

Beca rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “Fine dude, but you owe me lunch.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

----

Sharing a cubicle wall, Beca and Emily became close friends through the proximity of their desks. Emily liked asking a lot of questions when she first started, and Beca (to her chagrin) was the closest victim. Gradually, gruff Beca warmed up to her, and the two became close work buddies.

And although Emily liked Beca a lot, her favorite coworker would definitely be Aubrey Posen. Hands down, no contest. No offense to Beca.

(“None taken,” she said, when Emily inevitably shared her thoughts one day.)

There was no one that could match the quiet authority, intelligence, and kindness Aubrey held.

Aubrey had been at the company for a couple of years now, quickly rising through the ranks with her invaluable insight into various projects. She also became a great resource for Emily whenever Beca couldn’t figure out how to help.

Sometimes Emily would skip asking Beca altogether, making the excuse that Beca was busy, when she could clearly see Beca over their shared wall, playing games on her phone. She told herself that she learned better when Aubrey was giving her advice, probably because she hung onto every last syllable. Though some people in the office were intimidated by Aubrey, Emily didn’t get it.

She kept feeling herself drawn towards her, rather than away.

And so, Emily took every opportunity to get on any project with Aubrey. Even if it was just scanning reports or organizing files.

Sure working at a desk wasn’t exactly what Emily envisioned when she graduated college, but it wasn’t the worst thing either. She hadn’t really known what she wanted to do, besides hopefully something in psychology. Unfortunately, that vagueness and indecisiveness didn’t land a job in the field. Those in her major that did get a job right out of university knew exactly what they wanted to go in, and could flawlessly articulate their motivations.

But Emily wasn’t like that.

Psychology 1001 was her favorite course freshman year, so she stuck with it. She enjoyed most of her psych classes since, but none really convinced her to pursue a certain career. It was incredibly interesting, sure, but she didn’t know what she wanted to do with all the information.

Senior year, she applied to a bunch of different positions on her school’s job website, and eventually got an offer from a financial consulting company. It involved a mixed bag of work, none of which utilized her psych degree, but there were definitely worse places to be. It had good benefits, a nice desk space for her family of plants, and most importantly, fun coworkers.

Everyone’s genuine kindness came as a pleasant surprise. So even though it wasn’t her field of choice, Emily found herself enjoying her days, as the people she got to help were awesome.

And there was one person in particular she especially liked working with.

Whenever Aubrey sent out a mass email asking for volunteers on new projects, Emily would respond almost immediately. A message would appear on Emily’s computer asking her to stop by Aubrey’s office to talk over the project. Emily usually left the conversation thinking it all could have easily been communicated through email, but she wasn’t going to complain. Meeting with Aubrey always made her day, if not her entire week.

----

On Friday, Emily spent over an hour in Aubrey’s office, discussing all the issues in their current project. It was a frustrating one, with two more problems springing up whenever they solved one. Being near five p.m., they decided to press pause and look at it with fresh eyes next week.

Emily turned to leave before being called back by Aubrey.

“Hey, um. Are you still going to the office party?” She looked uncharacteristically nervous.

“Yeah! Your place right?” Emily replied cheerily. Her response seemed to relax Aubrey’s shoulders. “I’ll try not to trash it.”

Aubrey smiled warmly and Emily struggled to maintain her professional composure. “I’ll hold you to it. See you this weekend.”

----

Now Emily was at this party, hanging out with her coworkers. Again, she loved them all, but there was one in particular she was hoping to spend time with. To her disappointment, the host was in high demand, greeting people at the door and finishing up food preparations.

So besides their brief interaction when she got in, Emily wasn’t able to get a moment with Aubrey.

“What are you doing in the corner?”

Emily looked up to see Jessica and Ashley watching her curiously. She didn’t even notice they arrived at the party.

Jessica ended up answering Ashley’s question. “She’s sulking because she hasn’t gotten any time with her girlfriend yet.”

Emily spluttered. “Girlfriend? What? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend. Massive crush. Same thing.” Ashley dismissed.

“Are you going to do anything about it?” Jessica asked.

“About what?” Playing innocent wasn’t her strong suit, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

Ashley was blunt about it. “About asking Aubrey out.”

“Don’t deny you have a thing for her.”

Emily knew she wasn’t going to get out of this one. She sighed. “It’s just, I don’t want to mess up our work relationship, and I’m pretty sure she just sees us as coworkers.”

They both gave her a weird look. Jessica sipped at her drink like she had a secret.

Emily narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison, walking away to rejoin the rest of the party.

Well that was weird, she thought as she made her way to the drink station. Emily was already one beer down, and ready for another one. Her eyes latched on the bottle of patron.

----

The party was going very smoothly, all low-key mingling and chatter in small groups. Multitudes of Christmas lights and festive sweaters added to the cheery atmosphere, and that shot of tequila helped Emily loosen up. But of course, with this group, the calm wasn’t going to last. It came as a surprise to no one that Chloe was the one to suggest a party game.

“Okay, I have the perfect idea,” she said once the entire group gathered on the floor around her. Chloe’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Truth or drink.”

“Game is simple. Basically truth or dare, so the person whose turn it is can ask anybody a question, and they have to answer truthfully or opt out by taking a shot. That person then gets to pick who they ask a question to, and so on.”

Stacie and Fat Amy were practically jumping out of their skins in enthusiasm. Beca had a look in her eyes akin to fear.

When Emily entered the apartment earlier that evening, never did she expect she’d be learning her coworkers’ dirtiest secrets. Thankfully, they seemed to think of her as the kid of the group, so the questions asked to her were tame in comparison.

Aubrey: “Where was your first kiss?” (Under the football bleachers.)

Lilly: “How many summoning spells have you done?” (None? Lilly seemed disappointed by the answer.)

Chloe: “What age did you stop believing in Santa?” (Emily threw back a shot for this one. Everyone laughed.)

A couple of rounds passed, and it was back to Chloe’s turn to ask.

“Okay Aubrey. Out of everyone in this room,” Chloe tapped her chin thoughtfully, “who would you want to bang?”

Aubrey froze and immediately knocked back her shot, which resulted in a chorus of ooo’s.

“Oh my god Aubrey who is it??”

“Is it Beca?”

“Ew Flo don’t suggest my girlfriend.”

Fat Amy piped in. “Okay then, it has to be Stacie.”

The ooo’s were even louder this time. Emily saw Stacie throw a suggestive wink to Aubrey across the circle, and a slight blush painted Aubrey’s cheeks.

Suddenly the room felt too stuffy.

Emily got up in an attempt to escape the situation, but ended up knocking into the coffee table next to her and tipping over a glass of wine. Her reflexes were enough to save any red liquid from getting on the carpet, but the same couldn’t be said about her white snowman sweater.

Sloppy drunk at her crush’s holiday party. Cool cool.

As if this night could get any worse.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help get you cleaned up.” Of course Aubrey was offering. Emily didn’t know whether to be excited or mortified at the prospect of being in close quarters with Aubrey.

As Aubrey grabbed paper towels nearby, Emily noticed Chloe whisper something in her ear, causing her to blush again. Emily frowned. It probably had something to do with Stacie.

Emily locked eyes with Beca, who gave her an encouraging two thumbs up. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Plans A and B that Beca concocted consisted of asking Aubrey out via taco sauce packets that say “Marry me?”, or serenading a lovey Christmas song with Aubrey’s name added in. Thank goodness Chloe was the one that asked Beca.

Aubrey made a pitstop in her bedroom to pick up an extra sweater and bath towel, and as she closed the bathroom door behind them, Emily’s heart raced. She’s literally just helping you remove a stain. Not sexy. Calm down. Emily internally yelled at herself.

Aubrey handed over the sweater and towel. “I’ll turn around so you can change.”

True to her word, she turned as Emily pulled off her ruined sweater. Emily toweled off any wine that seeped through fabric and onto her skin.

“Sorry I’m taking you away from spending the party with Stacie,” Emily muttered as she pulled the clean sweater on. She passed the now blotched towel back to Aubrey.

The older girl furrowed her eyebrows. “Why would I want to be spending it with Stacie?”

“Because, you know, you have a crush on her.”

“Did I say that?”

“Well no, but everyone seems to think so. From earlier.” Aubrey didn’t add anything so Emily continued. “And, I get it. She’s smart and beautiful, and flirty and cool. And probably really good in bed. Oh my god why did I say that—”

“Emily.” Aubrey’s firm voice brought her back from her spiral.

She took a breath. “Sorry.” Emily finally met Aubrey’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

The hem of her sweater suddenly became super interesting. She heard Aubrey take a breath.

One moment, Emily was wondering if her clumsiness completely blew her chance with the prettiest woman in the world, and the next, she was feeling soft lips on hers. Just as quickly as it began though, it ended.

“Was that okay?” Aubrey asked, searching her eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Emily nodded furiously, then pressed her lips back onto Aubrey’s, sinking into the feeling. This kiss was more needy, as if making up for lost time. /Aubrey, Aubrey, Aubrey/ shouted her mind, body and soul. Hands gripped her waist, desperate for some sort of grounding.

Just as Emily pushed Aubrey up against the wall, sharp knocking pulled them out of their bubble.

“You guys done making out in there??”

Emily could feel Aubrey smile against her lips, then slowly pull apart, giving one last quick peck.

“Out in a sec, Chloe!”

“You better because I really need to pee!” Came the shout back through the door.

As the sound of footsteps receded, Emily found Aubrey’s eyes focused back on her.

“So…you kissed me.” Emily said slowly.

“Mmhmm.”

“Like on the mouth.”

“That’s generally how it works.”

The gears in Emily’s brain were working overdrive to process the past few minutes. She was sure she was dreaming, except it was better than every single dream she’s ever had. Every cell in her body was electrified. Emily hated running, but she felt like she could sprint a marathon .

“You like me.“

The corner of Aubrey’s mouth twitched up, and she laced her fingers with Emily’s. “Yeah, for a while now.”

“What??”

“I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me.” Aubrey bit her lip. “And I didn’t want to mess up what we had at work if I was totally misreading any signs.”

Emily leaned in and kissed Aubrey again, soft but firm, a nice medium between their first two kisses.

“Hope there isn’t any more confusion.”

Aubrey laughed, and Emily melted. She could get used to this.

[missmeikakuna]

Tired Girl Ch. 10- F/F fantasy story

Two more chapters after this one!

Rated: T

Fandom: Original story

Relationship type: F/F

Description:

High schooler Nosderag is childish, impulsive and- worst of all- powerless in a magical world. Her strong sense of empathy leads her to rescue an injured fairy and bring it back to her dorm, to the chagrin of her love-powered rumoured lesbian roommate Dalzonf. Together they try to return the fairy to its enclosure before they get arrested for animal theft.

The problem is, people with love powers are seen as criminals, putting a giant target on Dalzonf’s back.

CONTENT WARNING: This story will have homophobia, bullying and discussions of sexual assault.

Chapter 10: Guilty Girl

Pink mist swirled around Dalzonf’s finger and into Daliki’s mouth. Nosderag patted the little creature on the head. As soon as she did so, she began glancing at Dalzonf and twirling one of her dreadlocks.

Dalzonf’s heart sped up and cold sweat ran down her skin. So it began.

As the other girl inched closer, she stepped back. She continued walking back until she was in the bathroom. She shut the door.

Looking at her hands in the mirror, she reminded herself of all the ridiculously unrealistic, cliché lines that Nosderag spouted. The key word here was ‘unrealistic’.

She reminded herself of the source of these unrealistic lines, the power that had resided in her since birth. The power that has been passed down generation upon generation, discovered in her when she was only five years old and managed to get a girl who hated her to hold her hand. An ability she had refused to misuse from that day forward.

Finally, she reminded herself of all the ways the world had punished her for getting close to other girls. The girl who held her hand soon woke up from the weak spell and pushed her into the sandcastle. After that Dalzonf’s mother gave Dalzonf a lecture on when to not use her newly found powers.

Of course, there were the rumours spread throughout high school, but the one memory that stuck in her head was Nosderag being utterly convinced that she had used magic on her on their first day as roommates.

A tear slid down Dalzonf’s face.

‘Hey, are you okay? You’ve been in there for half an hour.’

Dalzonf’s eyes stretched out to the size of apples. She hurriedly opened the door. Nosderag, whose own eyes portrayed concern, was no longer under the influence of love tolxing. Dalzonf was tempted to ask her why she seemed so worried about her but said nothing.

The following day, she kept Daliki away from Nosderag whenever she fed the fairy, who seemed to get greedier for magic every time. When night came, Nosderag pouted and crossed her arms.

‘So you don’t think I trust you? I’ve had a hard day, let me pet Daliki.’

Dalzonf kept quiet as she fed Daliki. Nosderag stormed up to the fairy and patted her head. She smiled softly. Hot pink mist slowly entered her mouth.

The curses under Dalzonf’s breaths couldn’t stop Nosderag from grabbing her hands. The lovestruck girl swayed back and forth.

‘Dally-boo, we should get married.’

Dalzonf tried to escape Nosderag’s grip. She stepped back and flinched. She examined the room for a way to distract Nosderag, whose face moved closer and closer. Giving up on distraction, Dalzonf decided to play along until the spell wore off.

‘Dally-boo? Really? Now, why would I want to marry someone who calls me that?’

‘Oh, come on, let’s marry!’ Nosderag whined. ‘We both know you want to. Let’s both stop pretending.’

Before Dalzonf could protest, Nosderag leaned in for a kiss. She smelled faintly of vanilla and her warm lips swiftly stole the air from Dalzonf’s throat.

A horrible decision was made that day- Dalzonf kissed back. She placed her hand underneath the other girl’s chin and pulled it up, losing herself in the kiss.

Nosderag’s mind was in a daze, only vaguely feeling the sensations that come with a kiss. It was like she was stuck in a dream and was on the verge of lucidity but not quite there yet. She still smiled at what little sensation she felt, the blurry tastes and the foggy touches that surrounded her.

Upon coming to her senses, Dalzonf tore herself from Nosderag. Her breaths were quick and her heart rate was like that of a person with anxiety receiving a failing grade. 

She pushed Nosderag onto the floor. She visualised a sandpit surrounding the girl, an image that sent shivers down her arms. After a single glance at her own hands, she ran out of the room, leaving behind a dumbfounded Nosderag.

As Nosderag began to come to her own senses, she tried to piece together why she was on the floor. She lied in bed that night, waiting for Dalzonf to return until her drooping eyelids gave in.

Dalzonf, meanwhile, snuck outside and slept in the cold. There was no way she was going to ask the teachers to sleep in their quarters.

In the morning she only came into her dorm room to put on a casual outfit, never uttering a word to her roommate despite said roommate’s incessant questions.

Nosderag’s heart felt like it was bashing itself into a brick wall with each unanswered question. Dalzonf’s silence as she did homework on the table was dark, murky and thick like an oil painting of a bog.

The long run down the stairs gave Nosderag little time for breakfast. Despite guzzling down her food, she was late for class.

After school, Nosderag called Dalzonf but the other girl hung up. She scoped the floor for another girl to power the elevator but everyone was already gone. Everyone, that is, except for Sosoka.

With a low-pitched sigh, she asked her. Sosoka laughed.

‘I guess your owner got bored of you.’ Her face softened. ‘Sure. I’ll help. It’s the least I could do. I’m heading up anyway.’

While waiting in the elevator, Sosoka talked about how annoying some of her teachers were, nary interacting with Nosderag. That is, until she got to her level and had to power the elevator just a little bit to get Nosderag to her destination.

‘Hey, you know you can change dorms if you want, right? You don’t need to stay with someone who takes advantage of you.’

The elevator doors closed before Nosderag could respond. 

Once in her room, she saw Dalzonf with her arms crossed and her hands on their opposite shoulders. She was kneeling in front of her little statue of Terio, eyes closed.

Not wanting to interrupt, Nosderag rummaged through her own belongings for an idol of Cenaschramm. The statue was of a bulky man with lava for skin. She kneeled next to Dalzonf and prayed just like her.

She prayed for Dalzonf to start explaining what the hell was going on. A minute followed and she opened her eyes. Dalzonf was still praying.

Nosderag stood back up and took a seat on her bed. She absentmindedly tapped her knees like bongos, waiting. 

Waiting.

Waiting. 

When Dalzonf finally got up, she held her hand out. Nosderag instinctively took it. Dalzonf raised an eyebrow and let go of her hand.

‘Homework.’

Cue a blush from Nosderag. ‘Oh, yeah. Here.’

She handed her the homework. Dalzonf nodded her thanks and got working on it.

Nosderag peered over her shoulder as she worked. She stopped when the other girl glared at her.

The night soon got darker and she tried to have a chat as they hopped into bed. Dalzonf’s mouth was completely shut. Her eyes looked hollow, like she had just witnessed a murder and was trying to process it.

The next school day was full of Nosderag paying less attention to the teachers and more to her plans for getting Daliki back home. There was one small problem.

Despite devoting much of her thinking time to it, she could not formulate a workable plan. Every time she thought of how she could involve Dalzonf in her scheme, she pictured the girl silently glaring at her.

By the end of the day, the only things playing in her mind were the times someone would ask if they could carry her backpack for her or be surprised that she was doing well in school. Kind smiles morphed into condescending smirks.

The uncomfortable silence between the roommates continued until nighttime. Dalzonf had just finished praying and was now reading a book. Blood drenched in frustration reached boiling point in Nosderag’s veins. 

She stood up in between their beds. ‘Okay, you’re going to tell me what’s going on and I’m going to listen. Did I do something wrong?’ Dalzonf tucked her lips into her mouth and shook her head, continuing to read her book as always. ‘Then what makes you think ignoring me’s a good thing to do? Do I deserve to be treated like I’m nothing? Huh? Do I deserve-’

‘Astra, you sound like Sosoka,’ Dalzonf muttered as she rubbed her face up and down like someone rudely awakened in the morning. 

‘How?’

‘Chattering about yourself. Woe is you.’

Nosderag grabbed Dalzonf’s arm with a suffocating grip. ‘Oh, because you’re clearly not feeling sorry for yourself about something. At least I have the decency to be honest about it. What’s gotten you so shaken up?’ As if matching her words, Nosderag shook Dalzonf’s arm. Dalzonf responded by tearing her arm away and scowling at her.

‘You know what? You did do something wrong. You just had to be a stubborn idiot and pet Daliki when you could have just waited until after she was fed. Why are you so… childish?’

‘I’m childish? I’m not the one ignoring someone rather than, oh, I don’t know, communicating with them!’

‘It’s not just this thing. Now, who was it who decided to steal an ara fairy and make me look after it while I have to save your behind from getting expelled?’

‘I didn’t steal her!’

Dalzonf stood. ‘Who was it who fucked up when trying to take her back to the shed?’

‘You were the one who fu-’

Soon their faces were inches apart. ‘And who is the one who keeps getting drunk on my tolxing and embarrassing me in front of everyone?’ Nosderag shut her mouth, bringing her eyes to the ground. ‘Yeah, thought so. And I’m always having to make sure you don’t…’ Dalzonf glanced at Nosderag’s lips and immediately turned her head away. ‘...do something dangerous when under the influence. I don’t even know why I bother trying to protect you since you’re a disaster even when you’re normal. I’m sick of babysitting you.’

Nosderag stood on her tippy toes to make herself taller than the other girl. It didn’t work.

‘I am perfectly fine when I’m normal. I’m not a child so stop treating me like one!’

‘Really?’ Dalzonf asked while looking down at Nosderag’s feet.

‘Really!’ Nosderag yelled as she lowered her body and looked up to match Dalzonf’s line of sight.

Dalzonf scoffed and stormed to Daliki’s cage. ‘Would an adult…’ She pointed at the cage. ‘Let this happen? Or pet her even when I said not to for your own safety?’

‘N-No!’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I should just keep on feeding this little thing until my magic spreads throughout the whole room! It’s totally safe for you to constantly be love tolxed.’ Daliki squawked and flapped her wings about. ‘Look, Daliki’s hungry! Better feed her!’

A sharp tendril of red mist shot into Daliki’s mouth. Her squawks turned into whimpers as her heartbeat sped up. She struggled to breathe and collapsed to the floor of the cage.

Nosderag ran to her and unlocked the cage, picking up the fairy. ‘What did you do?’

‘I don’t know!’ Dalzonf answered, staring at her own hands in horror.

Nosderag shouted, ‘Watch over her!’ while running out the door.

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Magic Vs. Science

Chapters: 18/25 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Series: Part 1 of 9. Summary: Magic and Science, are they the same or are they completely different? It just takes one person to point out all up and downs. Along with breaking the stereotypes that come up with being a wizard, alchemist and most of all being human. Thank you, @amynchan! D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

“English and Edward’s accented voice.” “Amestrian or another foreign language.” “Written notes.” ‘Thoughts.’ First Name: Informal Last Name: Formal (Or used to annoy others)

Christmas day.

A day to be around friends and family, being around people you love and care for. To wake up fully energized at the prospect of running over to the fully decorated Christmas tree to open presents. Once that was said and done, go outside and play in the snow. To have snowball fights, build snow forts and perhaps a game of Quidditch. Then go back inside to sit around a fireplace to drink hot chocolate, play Exploding Snap or Chess.

Right now, eight Alchemy students prefer to sleep in as much time as they could before their day could start. All of them are sleeping in a room in the Military Barracks in bunk beds. The room was usually used for Military personnel that do not have a home in Central City and stays in the Barracks when on duty. Their instructors are given their own rooms but would rotate when making rounds to check on the students. The only one that remained awake throughout the entire night is the head of this Field Trip.

He was too busy decorating a decent size pine tree with decorations he had packed up in his suitcase with the help of the Mustang Unit. Edward picked up a giant mug of coffee and took a deep gulp of the bitter drink. Standing there with the said mug in one hand and another on his hip as he took in the sight in front of him. A decorated pine tree standing in the corner of the room, multiple presents underneath it and the smell of apple pie filled the air. About a couple of hours ago, multiple owls flew in and dropped out present after present for his students, Rolanda, Quirinus, and too much to his surprise, Edward also got a few gifts. Every present is placed under the tree to surprise everyone else once they step into the room for breakfast.

"What exactly is this thing again?" Jean Havoc asked once he finished decorated the tree.

"It's a type of holiday tree." Edward responded with a shrug.

"Well...I hope they like it." Jean shrugged his shoulders, he wasn't going to argue with the other's plans. This just showed a whole other side of Edward, something many would have thought he does not have. "It strange, but...let's just hope they like it."

"In the Grand Hall of the school, they have one that nearly touches the ceiling filled with... magical... decorations and it looks whimsical. This might not match up to it, but I hope it is enough for them." Edward explained, he finished his drink and slammed the mug on a table when he felt his tongue burn due to the hot liquid. "Ugh...my tongue...I need to go wake them up before they start wandering around and get lost. Go see if Mrs. Hughes needs anything."

"Got it, boss."

Edward rubbed his face with both hands to ward off any sign of sleep. He hoped despite the fact his students are going to spend their Christmas in a Military Barracks, away from everything they know, they have a good time. Telling them his past with a Military was rather...not awkward, not tense but draining to tell. The result is his students believing he was some sort of Magical Police Officer. Auror? Eh, something like that.

A Magical Police Officer... Nah, sounds too much work.

-.-

Edward walked down the hall that headed towards the rooms his students and fellow instructors. He stood in front of Rolanda's room and was about to knock on it when it opened see said person fully dressed. The Alchemy Teacher took note at how Rolanda is wearing a fancier set than her typical robes, but not over the top and did not have on a robe or hat. She still looked a bit out of place, but at least without the robe, she won't appear completely out of place. In the Quidditch Instructor's arms is a basket filled with small presents wrapped in shimmering paper and ribbons. "Morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Elric." Rolanda responded with a nod, she stepped out of her room and closed the door behind herself. "Have you awoken the students?"

"I was going to wake you and Quirinus before we woke them up and get them ready for today. I have a surprise ready for everyone?" Edward explained with a grin, he and Rolanda walked down the hall to the Muggle Studies Professor room.

"Don't tell me... you have a surprise Christmas Party planned?" Rolanda asked, she raised an eyebrow at Edward when he remained quiet. She only shook her head with a slight shake of her head. "Of course, you did, how did you manage to pull that off with your superiors?"

"I er... My boss is a softy and I am the one that is paying for everything." Edward deadpanned the last part. He stopped in front of Quirinus door and knocked on it. There was a slight shuffle from inside the room before the door opened. What Edward saw made his jaw dropped in horror and shock. Edward could not even describe what he is looking at and even Rolanda is shaking her head Quirinus appearance.

"R-ready?" Quirinus asked, he was about to close the door behind himself when Edward pushed him back into the room. "W-what, are yo-you doing?"

"There is no way you are walking around here wearing that! Wear your regular outfit without your robe." Edward snapped at the older man, he shut the door to Quirinus room and hit the door to get his point across. "Whoever taught you about MuggleFashion has no taste whatsoever."

Edward turned his head over at Rolanda with a questioning look. "And this guy is supposed to be the Muggle Studies Professor?"

"The Magical Community is completely cut off from the Muggle World, this tends to happen due to that reason." Rolanda stated with a pinched expression.

"Even though I had a questionable taste in fashion, I would never stoop that low to wear that!"

-.-

Edward hid his grin at the looks of joy his student gave when Rolanda handed each of them their presents. Each of them received a small box of sugar candies in a decorated tin that had an image of a Golden Snitch flying around the tin. The students are wearing their uniforms, minus their robes and hats. At least their uniforms looked normal here in Amestris compared to what Quirinus was originally going to wear. Edward still cannot get that image out of his head. "We have a busy schedule ahead of us today, very busy day."

"What are we going to be doing today, Mr. Elric?" One of the student's asked.

"I will explain everything once we finish with our breakfast." Edward explained to the student, he along with everyone else was walking down several hallways to their intended location. Several soldiers that they passed by looking at the group with curious eyes but that was replaced with looks of respect and awe at the sight of Edward. The students, Rolanda and Quirinus wondered about the looks and the salutes that were shot at the Alchemy Teacher's way.

"Little brother!" A high pitch squeal filled the hall and the sound of rapid footsteps caught everyone's attention. The only one that did not seem surprised was Edward, he simply turned to face the direction where the squeal came from. Down the hall is a pig-tailed sandy blonde girl running up to them with her hands extended out.

Edward extended his arms out and braced for impact when the girl launched herself into her arms. He swung her around and their laughter filled the hall. Once he stopping spinning them around, the girl went a thousand miles an hour and every occasion, Edward would nod or just smile at her. Once the girl slowed down, Edward placed her down back on the ground and patted her on the head.

Louder footsteps came down from the same direction the girl came from. Looking over, everyone saw two men running down the hall with looks of complete distress. They stopped in front of Edward and the little girl, completely out of breath. They explained something to the Golden Blonde before he waved them off and they ran off in the same direction they came from. Edward scratched his head while he looked down at the girl, who was still smiling at him. With a sigh, he waved a hand towards his class direction. "This is my class, I am a teacher at a school in a different country, Elicia."

"You? A teacher? Hahaha!" Elicia giggled humorously at the notion of Little Brother being a teacher.

Edward pouted, why does everyone laugh at the thought of him being a teacher? Dammit! He hasn't killed anyone yet or maimed anyone for that matter. His students are learning something without the fear of being getting their asses handed to them. Nooooo... it's a flipping joke to everyone that knows him. "Why does everyone keep laughing at me whenever I tell them that?"

"It's funny~" Elicia continued to giggle at the thought.

Edward only shook his head, he motioned for the little give him his hand. "Come on, I'll take you to your mom."

"Okay, little brother!"

"Little brother my..." Edward grumbled under his breath, he looked back at his class and fellow instructors. The students were whispering among themselves about the scene before them. This is a completely new side of their teacher. Is she related to him? It was obvious by their interaction, they know each other to the point of the Alchemy Teacher acting like a doting older brother or even a father. "This is Elicia, the daughter of an a...good friend of mine."

Without saying another word, Edward continued his way to the surprise location. Well, he would nod or mutter something that went along with whatever Elicia was saying to him. The chatter stopped when they stopped in front of metal double doors. On top of the doors is a sign that said, 'Dining Hall' in Amestrian and a poster taped on the door too. Edward turned back to give his class a devious grin. "Here we are..."

Edward opened the door and motioned for everyone to enter. The students saw it was a dining hall, only having the minimal required items and furniture for such room. When their sights landed on the far corner of the room, their jaws dropped. Right there in the corner of the dining hall is a Christmas tree with piles of presents surrounding it. The two tables were pushed together to make one long table and had plates of food on it. There was a woman wearing an apron and oven mitts, holding what appears to be a pie. She smiled at the newcomers as they entered the room. Elicia let go of Edward's grasp and ran over to her.

"Even though we do not celebrate this holiday, all of you do. So... uh..." Edward struggled with his words and made it a point to not look his students. He understood what the holiday means, especially what it meant for his students. Even if the trip is for them to get away from the Magical World and dammit! He wants to make sure they have a decent holiday. Especially seeing and reading in between the lines about his student's lives. "Go do... whatever you normally do."

Without another word, Edward's students ran over to the tree to see what they got. One or two of them hung back and hesitantly approached the others. They ran once their fellow classmates yelled at them when they state there are gifts for them under the tree.

"It is not exactly a party but...it will suffice." Rolanda stated to Edward.

"H-how long h-have you pla-anned this?" Quirinus asked.

"When the trip was approved. I had Zefferus pack the decorations and sent a letter to my superior if he could help me make this happen. He agreed after I told him I would pay for it..."

"You sound like you don't like the man?" Rolanda asked, her eyebrow twitched slightly.

"...It's a long, long... long story." Edward sighed, he scratched the back of his head. He headed over towards the table filled with food. "Come on, I am hungry!"

-.-

"Hmmmm... Pie..." Edward hummed in content. He had just said his temporarily good-byes to Elicia and Mrs. Hughes before they left with a promise of seeing them again before he returned to Great Britain. Glancing over at his students, Edward saw that all of them are eating and looking over their gifts. The only gifts that were left under the tree belonged to him, Rolanda and Quirinus. All in all, it appeared to be a good Christmas in his opinion.

Well, it was until the doors slammed open and Edward did not bother to hide his frown. Everyone sitting around the table looked over to see General Roy Mustang. The General is grinning manically as he headed towards their table. "Good morning everyone, I hope you had a good night rest."

"Ugh...." Edward bemoaned, he ate another spoonful of apple-pie. It no longer tasted the same as it did like the previous bite. "Go away...I am trying to enjoy my breakfast."

"What was that, Fullmetal?" Roy asked, his expression stern as he stared Edward down. This made Edward's students and fellow instructors nudge away from the possible upcoming fight. There was clear tension in the room that started to build up and... are those flames and lightning in the background?

Edward took in a deep breath, berating himself. He wondered is it worth acting like the perfect soldier to keep up appearances. The last thing he needed is his students believing the Amestris Military are a bunch of idiots or worse... have them look like their Ministry. Then again, the last thing he needed is for them to fear the Military to the point of making them fear Alchemy. There are so many pros and cons to the whole situation. Seeing as Roy and the Mustang Unit are going to be the ones representing Amestris during the whole negotiations between Amestris and Magical Great Britain, might as well show them nothing is to fear. "Could you stop calling me that?"

"You will always be dubbed as such, I have the paperwork to back me up." Roy tutted Edward, he reached over and grabbed an entire pie. "Once you are down here take your class to the Library. Captain Hawkeye will be waiting there for your arrival."

"By any chance, has Grumman pass any laws since I've been gone?"

"No... You know what... the entire unit has asked me that minus Hawkeye. What do you know?" Roy asked with a critical eye.

Edward popped another spoonful of pie into his grinning mouth. "I don't know...Why don't you go eat your pie...alone."

"You're just jeal... This would have sounded better if you weren't engaged to your mechanic." Roy muttered under his breath before he left the dining hall.

-.-

Edward hesitantly scanned a brightly wrapped box in his hands. He slowly opened the package to reveal a bronze tea set decorated with sapphires. There was a card inside the teapot and Edward took it out with an eyebrow raised. Once reading over the card, the Golden Blonde let out a soft chuckle. Filius had sent him and his fiancé a tea set. 'Tea...hm... I have to get him something.'

Once packing the tea set back in its box and putting it in his suitcase, Edward picked up another package. He reached for another present that was wrapped in emerald green and silver stripped wrapping paper tied around in a green ribbon. One guess on who sent him that? Edward kept the present at an arms distance in case it might go against him. Once the wrapping paper was removed and opening the box that contained the gift, Edward peeked inside to see a bottle of firewhiskey and two decorated drinking glasses. "I like...I like this very much."

Edward stuffed the present into his suitcase with a chuckle. He picked up his coat, suitcase and headed out towards the door. Once he gets some alone time, Edward would have to do something shopping. The moment he was about to turn the doorknob, the Golden Blonde reached into the collar of his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. 'I have to do this too.'

-.-

"This is it... The National Central Library." Edward announced to his class as they walked up the steps to said building. He ignored the curious looks and whispers, especially if they were giggling females that kept blowing him kisses. Clearing his throat once he stood on the top step, he looked down at his class with a knowing look. "This is the nation's largest literary repository and contains texts and reference materials collected from all over the nation and throughout Amestris history. It is separated in several branches, some are open to the public while others are only open to the Military with proper ranking and State Alchemists..."

Edward glanced over at main entrance of the library, frowning. The library had gone over a complete makeover once Grumman was put into leadership and him putting Edward to rearrange the place while his brother recuperated. Several restrictions and bans were lifted on certain topics, take Alkahestry for example. The topic of human transmutation is something that and several others are still iffy about it, one hand it is to warn other or to get that idea into someone's mind for them to try. The one place that truly changed is the branch that the State Alchemist mainly used. There is a hidden section that showed the complete history of Amestris from a different point of view. The only few know of that location and will only be told if it is necessary to ensure history does not repeat itself. Still, even with the changes, it still felt the same.

"Mom! Is that him? The Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Not so loud, Selim. Yes, it is him."

A shiver ran down Edward's spine, that voice. That voice sounded so familiar and it irked him to no end. He slowly turned around to see a very familiar boy being held back by Mrs. Bradley. She looked up at the same time Edward looked over and caught his eyes. The older woman shot him an apologetic smile when Selim managed to escape her grasp. She mouthed an apology when her son ran over to him.

Edward froze when Selim latched himself onto him, he clenched his hands onto his side to prevent himself from doing anything to the... child. A three-year-old child that is looking at him like some sort of hero, far more different than the first time he met him some years ago. Taking in a deep breath, Edward grinned at the kid and loosened up a bit. Just a bit. "Hi."

Selim gasped out, his eyes widen in shock before a look of complete admiration overtook his expression again. The fact the kid's eyes are sparkling was sort of helping his case with Edward. His smiled so widely that it made Edward's cheeks hurt just to look at him. His hero just said hi to him. To him! "Coool!"

"Mr. Elric sure is popular."

"What makes you say that?"

"This is like the hundredth persons that hugged Mr. Elric with an excessive amount of sparkles."

"You're overexaggerating."

"People yes. Sparkles...not so much. That is in the thousands."

"...So much sparkle..."

"What is it about this place that has people...sparkling!"

"For your own sanity...do not ask that question."

All of Edward's students, plus their professors, turned around to see a woman dressed in an Amestris Military Uniform standing next to them. She stared up ahead of them to see an exasperated Golden Blonde and his adoring fan. The woman cleared her throat loud enough to catch Edward's attention. "Colonel Elric, are you ready?"

"No...help? Please? Please? Please? Please..."

-.-

"Like I said before... The National Central Library has multiple branches, this is just one of them." Elric said in a low enough voice to not bother anyone else who is using the library for whatever reason but high enough to be heard by his class. He leads them toward the back of the building. "The one we are currently in is primarily open for the entire public."

"Mr. Elric?"

"Yes?"

"If we are studying alchemy, shouldn't we use the one that is open for State Alchemists?"

"What we are going to do today does not involve us going into that Branch."

"What exactly are we going to do?"

"All of you will see soon enough." The Alchemy Teacher grinned at his student with a devious grin.

"My, my... I would have never thought of you becoming a teacher. Considering who your teacher is..."

Elric grumbled under his breath, his cheeks turned pink in embarrassment. "I was bribed..."

"They have a library, don't they?"

"..."

-.-

"What is wrong with his face...?"

"He looks like he just came out of a potion's accident."

"A very terrible accident."

"It is rather rude to talk about someone that is standing right in front of them..." Elric whispered to his whispering students with a stern look. Said students froze in their spots at being caught, well they weren't exactly being quiet either. All of them are in a secluded room that looked like a classroom with a couple of chalkboards. Writing on a chalkboard is an older man in his late fifty's, wearing a lab coat from what Professor Quirrel once stated, and his most notable characteristic is that his face is disfigured beyond recognition. Mr. Elric and Captain Hawkeye did not even flinch at the sight of the old man. If anything, Mr. Elric and said man appeared to be good friends. "For your information... he knows English."

"You just took the fun right out of everything, Edward." Dr. Tim Marcoh grunted under his breath, continuing writing seemingly random things on one of the chalkboards.

"I would say I am sorry, but I am not." Elric snickered at the older man, he passed out several packets of papers to his students. One by one, each student glanced through the packet wondering what exactly was given to them. It appeared to be recipes, information on flowers, plants, recipes, and other random things. Nothing was making sense to any of them. Once the Alchemy Teacher stood in front in front of the room and stared at his students expectantly. "This is Doctor Tim Marcoh... A former State Alchemist, the Crystal Alchemist."

The students sat up in their seats, their attention completely on the Crystal Alchemist. This is will be the fourth person they had met that has or had the title of State Alchemist. The first one will be their teacher, Fullmetal Alchemist, then that half-naked man back at the desert, Strong Arm Alchemist, their teacher's superior, Flame Alchemist and finally the man in front of them, Crystal Alchemist. The only issue they all have is the fact none of them had seen any of them perform alchemy. None what so ever. Perhaps that will change soon.

"Dr. Marcoh will help you figure out those packets I just passed out. Doc...they are all yours..."

"...You are going to leave me here with them, aren't you?"

"I need to run a couple of errands around the city...I'll pay you back somehow."

"...Fine. Go."

"With that said...do not do anything I would not do."

"That is a very short list, Mr. Elric..."

-.-

"We will be leaving Central in two days and take a train to Resembool... Don't worry, Mustang has people patrolling the train stations and the tracks... Yes, I have that... What do you mean Xerxes did that?... Ugh... Stupid owl... Sorry, I'll get you a new one... Winry?... have an apple ready for me?... I'll see you in three days." Edward hung up the phone with a soft sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, a small smile played on his lips. Edward was about to walk off when something caught his attention at the corner of his eye.

Slowly turning around to see what exactly caught his attention. What Edward saw caused him to groan in frustration. Leaning far too close for comfort and grinning frantically, is none other than Roy Mustang. The man is wearing his civilian clothing to oppose his military uniform. At least it was not one of his flashiest set of clothing.

"Hello there, calling your girlfriend?" Roy asked in a sing-song voice.

"Fiancé, thank you very much!" Edward growled out, his good mood just flew out a window and replaced with annoyance at the appearance of the man in front of him.

"Oooooh. Fiancé... Tell me how you managed that?" Roy asked, not at all bothered by Edward's change of behavior.

"What? You need tips on how to get into an official relationship?" Edward asked with a snicker.

Roy sputtered out, his composure gone momentarily. Before he could retort back, the Golden Blonde grabbed him by his collar and dragged him out of the building. "Hey! Watch the suit, it's new!"

"Then you should have worn one of your other ones then." Edward stated he loosened his grasp on Roy just enough for the older man to pull himself away. Once that Roy pulled away from his grasp, the Golden Blond stuffed his hands into his coat's pockets. "Hurry, I left my class with Dr. Marcoh and I don't want him to turn my class against me."

"Hawkeye still with them?"

"Yeah, she'll take the class to a café for late lunch where I am going to meet with them."

"What about me? Where am I in this equation?" Roy asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I...I...ugh... I need you to do me another favor..." Edward managed to say, he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. It was one thing to ask the Flame Alchemist to accompany him while he ran a couple of errands around Central. The Alchemy Teacher needed a ride and the Flame Alchemist is the only one in the area that owns a vehicle.

"Yes?"

"I...I need your help with... I need your help with my and Winry's wedding." Edward finally said the tension in his shoulders left him at that moment. He avoided making eye contact with Roy and speed forward when he saw said man's car up ahead.

Roy's eyes widen in surprise, he swore his mind momentarily stopped. To think that Edward Elric would ask him for his help for his own wedding. It was one thing to invite him to the wedding, but to be a part of it means a lot to him. There are many more things that could be said about his relationship with the younger man. They have an amicable animosity between them, a mutual dislike and yet have a great deal of respect between them. Many will swear they are father and son with how they interact with each other. No, that title belongs to someone else that is long gone. What he is to the young man is someone he trusts even if it appears quite the opposite. "Do you have a suit? Rings? Please tell me you at least got her an engagement ring?"

"No. No. I talked to Pinako and uhm... Winry has her mother's engagement ring but..."

"But...?" Roy drawled out, he took out a set of keys to open his car.

"Winry misplaced the ring several times and it gets in the way whenever she works on automail." Edward explained, once he and Roy got into the latter's car. "I want to get her earrings."

"Hm... nice. Different but nice. Anything else?"

"...I need to go get something for Ling, the idiot needs something and wants to make sure Lan Fan doesn't find out."

"...Where do we go?" Roy asked while he turned on the car.

"It's this place..." Edward pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Roy.

Roy took the paper and raised an eyebrow at what he was reading. He snorted as he handed the note back. "First stop... The Jewelers of Amestris."

-.-

2 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

2 cups white sugar

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

4 cups apples-peeled, cored and diced

...

Alpine Rose...

Chamomile...

Cornflower...

Edelweiss...

Fire Lily...

Greenspire...

Silver birch...

Spindle...

White mustard...

Norway spruce...

...

Holsteins

Jerseys

Guernseys

Ayrshires

Brown Swiss

Milking Shorthorns

Dutch Belted

...

Apple Cake Recipe (equals) Mathematical notions

Types of flowers (equals) Formulae of shapes

Types of dairy cows (equals) Chemical formulas

That was just the beginning of the packet Mr. Elric had given to his student to go over with Dr. Marcoh. What appeared to be completely random jargon, there is far more than what it looked like at first glance. Page after page contained hidden information they would have never expected to find in 'original' text. Now it is understood why Mr. Elric had them solve riddles, looking at everything at a different perspective and drive it into their heads that nothing is at it first appears. That was only the easy stuff, the harder part is figuring out how to decode a three-page paper that already appears to be decoded already!

"Time. Pack up, it's time for all of you to leave." The scared doctor/alchemist announced to his temporary class. "Keep working on this, it is due the first day of classes. Follow Captain Hawkeye, she is going to take you to Truth knows what..."

"Where exactly are, we going?" One of the students asked.

"We are too meet with your teacher for lunch. If we hurry, we will get to the designated location before the lunch rush starts." Captain Hawkeye announced to the class, she signaled for everyone to follow her.

"Do you believe Mr. Elric finished with his errands, Captain Hawkeye?" Madam Hooch asked the younger woman.

"I am actually more worried if we have to meet the Colonel in a jail cell along with my superior."

Silence...

"Wha...?"

"Elric and Mustang do not get along, they enjoy to antagonize each other." Marcoh explained while he cleaned the chalkboards with a rag.

-.-

"BASTARD!"

"PIPSQUEAK!"

"How many times do I have to tell you...WE ARE NOW THE SAME HEIGHT!"

"For all I know, you could have put extra padding in your shoes!"

"Gasp-Take that back!"

"Make me!"

Ah... There it is... the yelling and screaming matches between Roy Mustang and Edward Elric. A very common occurrence in Central; Amestris in general. There go that last couple of months of silence...

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[thewritenerd]

This Life and the Other: NaNoWriMo Day 6

‘Uh yeah I guess.’ ‘Well then you should tell her. If we survive tonight.’ With that she skipped off leaving me to follow behind. Honestly that girl.

I woke up in the sanctuary feeling sick to my stomach. Maybe we could just do the whole “I don’t feel well” trick? Instead of knocking myself out and risking putting myself into a coma. But the nausea was probably due to anxiety about today. Tonight? Living in two time zones at once can be confusing. I ate my breakfast in silence, not that Ezra or Apolo seemed up to talking much. Ezra especially looked an odd shade of green. When we were finished eating we all stood up and headed towards the greenhouse. The greenhouse is the closest thing we have to an outdoor area. It’s a huge dome with a grass field and an athletics track. We only see it once every six months. As we all stood in a row waiting for either Medved or Ovenchi to arrive I leaned closer to Apolo. 

‘You remember what you need to do?’ I asked. He nodded before turning to Ezra, who at this point was shaking uncontrollably. ‘Hey Ez you okay?’ Apolo asked. ‘Hmm? Oh yeah I’m fine.’ He didn’t sound too convincing. I remembered how on our last fitness test he’d barely scraped by. And I’d noticed he seemed to have started moving slower than before these last few months. Sometimes I’d seen him wince in pain whenever he stood up or sat down. I thought about saying something, but before I could figure out what the doors opened and Mr Medved came marching in. ‘Right you lot shut up and look at me!’ he barked. The few of us who’d been talking quickly shut up. Medved walked along the line, staggering a little as he did so. Was that guy ever not drunk? I thought. He ordered us to find space and start performing “warm up” exercises. I’m not an unfit person, skinny and not interested in sports in any way shape or form sure; but not unfit. Still Medved’s warm ups lasted an hour with no break and felt more like a full routine. We were then told to get into five separate groups alphabetically, so group one was anyone with a surname starting with the letters A to E, group two with the letters F to J and so on until group five, U to Z. My anxiety about the plan only increased when I realised that it meant I wouldn’t be able to communicate with Apolo, as his last name was Wasape. My group were sent to the running track first with instructions to just keep running around the track until time was up. While I ran I kept looking at the clock that hung above the entrance watching as 11 am, the time we’d decided to set the plan in motion, ticked closer. When I did look away I noticed Mr Medved was leaning right into Ezra’s face. Slowing a bit as I passed I tried to listen to what he was saying. ‘Well Mr Hart what do you call that?’ Medved asked with a sneer on his face. ‘What do you mean sir?’ ‘You know perfectly well what I mean. Personally, I’d call that pathetic. I mean how hard is it too lift some little weights?’ He leaned closer dropping his voice so I could no longer hear him. Before I could really think about what I was doing I reached into Ezra’s mind just in time to hear Medved whisper, ‘I don’t think we should waste our resources on someone like you.’ With that he leaned back and started looking around. ‘Mr Kelbeck!’ he snapped. I jumped pulling myself out of Ezra’s mind. ‘Did I tell you to stop running!?’ ‘Uh no. Sorry sir!’ I called back before returning to my running. I hadn’t meant to stop moving, I hadn’t even realised I had.

When it was finally eleven I was standing by the weights waiting to be told what to do. Apolo, thank goodness, was standing where we were doing co-ordination tests which involved throwing and catching balls. Exactly where I needed him to be. When Mr Medved came over to give us our instructions I glanced over at Apolo and gave him a small nod, which he returned. Looking away I tried to make it look like I was listening to what Mr Medved was saying. But the whole time I was thinking, don’t duck don’t duck don’t…

I woke up with such a start I nearly fell off the sofa. ‘Glad you could join us,’ Aiden said when he saw I was awake. ‘Uh yeah.’ I sat up. I was tempted to reach up and touch my head. But I knew there would be nothing there. I looked around to see that everyone else was standing around waiting to go. ‘Here.’ Ezra said handing me a pink and white walkie talkie. ‘My favourite colour,’ I said sarcastically as it took it from him and slipped it into my pocket. Aiden shook his head before turning back to the others. ‘Right does everyone remember the plan?’ he asked. Everyone nodded serious expressions on all their faces, even Ronnie. ‘Good,’ he turned to Cam and me. ‘You two will be going ahead. And quickly if you miss the last trucks then we’ll miss our only chance. We both nodded and headed off. The idea was Cam would sneak under the truck while I stayed on the other side of the road and kept an eye on things through Cam’s eyes. They had been reluctant to agree to let me do that, but eventually with enough pleading from Lalita they agreed. Once across the road we slipped back behind the low wall and lay in wait. After only a few minutes we saw a row of three black trucks driving down the road. ‘Get ready,’ I whispered. ‘And remember wait until they’ve checked round the back of the last truck.’ ‘I know,’ Cam hissed gritting their teeth. ‘Hey I’m just making sure you remember. We are asking you to take a big risk here. Okay they’re on the last truck.’ Cam didn’t move from where they were crouched, wanting to stay hidden for as long as possible. The second the guard began to walk away from the back of the truck I reached into Cam’s mind. Cam started running full sprint across the road. It felt so odd watching the world through their eyes. The guard seemed to have slowed to a stop, as if they were frozen in place. I watched as Cam dove under the truck and grabbed on to the underside. After what seemed like ages, seriously did everything move this slowly for Cam? No wonder they’re so impatient all the time. The truck began to move through the gate. Once it was inside the garage I heard the sound of a door open and close and footsteps walking around. ‘Come on you lot. The sooner we can get this equipment back to the storeroom the sooner I can get home.’ Said a female voice. ‘Sounds good to me.’ A male voice replied. There were more noises until eventually it went quiet. Then everything went dark. Shit, Cam thought. The place had no windows making it pitch black with the lights out. I heard more movement, this time it was Cam crawling back out from under the truck, for a moment it was quiet before Cam switched on their torch. They blinked in the sudden light before looking around. They headed towards the garage door and started scanning the wall. On the left side was a keypad with a red light glowing. I saw Cam’s hand move out of the corner of their eye before hearing a quiet beep. ‘Saren.’ Hearing Cam’s voice through both their ears and mine startled me out of their head. ‘Saren are you there?’ I pulled my walkie talkie out of my pocket. ‘Yeah I’m here.’ ‘Are you seeing this?’ ‘The keypad? Yeah I did. Unfortunately in order to answer you I couldn’t keep using my telepathy. And because I can’t see you I can’t use it again.’ There was a pause before I heard the walkie talkie beep again. ‘Sorry.’ I sighed. ‘It’s fine you didn’t know. Just try and look for a password okay?’ ‘Okay.’

The others arrived not long after all the the guards but one had finally left. ‘Hey Saren, how are things looking?’ Aiden asked me. ‘Not sure, I lost visuals when they tried to talk to me through the walkie talkies.’ Aiden nodded but looked worried. ‘Can you try and contact them again?’ he asked pointing to the walkie talkie. I nodded back and pressed the talk button. ‘Cam?’ There was a pause then, ‘I’m here. And I’ve found the pass code for the door.’ ‘Good. Listen The others are here now. I’m going to pass you over to Aiden.’ ‘Alright.’ I passed Aiden the walkie talkie. ‘Okay Cam we just need to get past the guard and then we’ll be with you. Stay by the door, but do not try to open it until I say so.’ ‘Got it.’ Aiden turned to Iesha and Lalita. ‘Are you two ready?’ he asked. ‘Kinda.’ Iesha replied. ‘Not really,’ Lalita sighed. ‘But I don’t think I’ll ever be. So let’s get this over with.’ ‘Good lad.’ Aiden said. The two of them stood up and started to head across the road. We watched as the approached the security guard and started talking to him. The idea was they’d pose as two innocent little kids, which technically they were, and lure the guard out of the booth by asking him for help. So far the plan seemed to be working as we watched him leave the booth and walk closer to the two of them. When he bent down speak to Iesha she breathed a cloud of pale green gas into his face. Startled the man fell backwards, he tried to stand up but Iesha and Lalita pinned him down. Their individual weights didn’t add up to much, but the two of them together combined with the effects of Iesha’s gas was enough to keep him on the ground. It was hard to see what was happening but I knew Lalita was forcing the mans eyes open so he could alter his memories, making him forget he ever saw anyone. When he was done they both stood up and gave us the thumbs up. ‘Okay come on quickly.’ Aiden said before leading Ronnie and myself across the road. Once we were all there Iesha slipped into the booth and pressed some buttons to unlock the smaller walk through gate. Quickly we slipped through and snuck across the car park. Once we were outside the garages Aiden lifted his walkie talkie up to his mouth. ‘Okay Cam open the door.’ For a moment nothing happened, then I saw a crack appear in the bottom of the garage door at the other end. We headed over there and one by one slipped under and switched our torches on. ‘Hey Cam could you lift it a little further?’ Ronnie asked from the other side of the door. Cam reached down and began to pull the door up a little further. Eventually Ronnie was able to squeeze herself under so we were all standing in the garage. Aiden gestured for us to follow him and lead us towards the door into the building. He reached to turn the handle but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Ronnie? Would you do the honours’ he said taking a step back. ‘Yes sir.’ She gave him a mock salute and walked over.  

[texanredrose]

Carry Me Home

Uh, somehow I thought I’d already posted this? But apparently I haven’t? Weird. Anyway, the reward for meeting one of October’s goals! Winter x Sienna fake dating AU, plus some Calichrome (not a triad; still working on that part) on the side.

Sienna scanned the interior of the bar, the light bass that pumped out of the speakers soothing her as much as the alcohol in her system. She'd already been out for a ride earlier, though she'd politely kept out of trouble this time if only to soothe Ghira's nerves, but returning to the bar remained the best way to unwind after a long day. Faunus from all around came to the place- a true landmark, the first Faunus owned establishment in Atlas. It remained a bastion even after all these years where their people would always be welcome.

But her senses remained sharp, always alert to any danger. Sometimes, particularly problematic humans would come along, attempting to provoke them into a fight.

And Sienna? She'd give them that fight, to the point that it'd made Ghira turn grey at the temples but their paths had diverged long ago. Now, he stood as a pillar of the community while she... well... Sienna stood as a pillar of her community, the camaraderie of the White Fang Gang and the patrons of the bar. They achieved the same goals... just through different means.

Even she had her limits, though.

"Sienna?" Her ear flicked before she turned to face Corsac properly, though she didn't bother getting up from her seat. She could tell just by the look on their faces what they would bring up and wouldn't give it any serious thought. "We have a proposition."

"What is it this time?" She drawled, sipping on her beer idly. Before they could start speaking, though, she held up a finger to stop them, lolling her head slightly. "And if I hear that bastard's name come out of your mouth, I'm kicking both of you out for the night."

"But, he has a point," Corsac said, his brother beginning the pitch in earnest.

"We used to be feared all over Remnant. The White Fang Gang stood for something and now we're a run-of-the-mill biker gang." Fennec swept a hand to indicate the rest of the bar. "While we sit here and get drunk, the humans-"

"Also sit places and get drunk." She rolled her eyes. True, some part of her longed for that days when they were as much a group a bikers as that of traveling warriors, showing up in force whenever bigoted humans thought they could intimidate Faunus in one way or another. But those were the old days. "We have to fight our enemies in the proper arenas. As long as we ride, we still stand for that desire to fight and protect what we've built. Our reputation hasn't suffered. But we're not hoodlums destroying property because it makes us feel good." That last part she'd delivered with a sneer, showing clear disdain for the brat who'd dare try to usurp her control of the White Fang. "So unless you have something worthy of my time, go play pool, get drunk, or go home."

"Sienna, we must be proactive-"

Shooting to her feet, she rounded on them, making both cower before her. Even if she didn't typically employ intimidation anymore, that didn't mean she'd lost her knack for it. "Are we not proactive? We have a community that spans all of Mantle, a free flow of resources to ensure no Faunus goes without food or shelter, that each and every one has a safe place to stay. I rode out today to act as guest speaker during a history lesson, to give an account of what Faunus have faced in the past, so our history isn't forgotten." Her eyes narrowed, ears laying back as neither Albain would raise their gaze to look her in the face. "Is that not proactive enough for you? Or do you only define 'proactive' by how much blood is shed?"

They didn't dare lift their heads. As loyally as they seemed to follow that bullheaded idiot's lead, at the end of the day, she was stronger, and they wouldn't start a battle they knew they couldn't win.

"Is everything alright?" Even over the music pulsing through the club, Tukson's voice carried well as he stepped up into the booth area carrying two beers.

"Everything's fine," she replied, resuming her seat. "They were just leaving."

Without another word, Corsac and Fennec left, brushing past the patrons and other White Fang bikers quickly. No doubt running back to tell how they'd failed, yet again, to persuade her.

"Let me guess." Taking a seat beside her, Tukson offered one of the beers, though she still had half of hers left. "The Albains were trying to pass off Adam's ideas as their own again."

"I don't understand their fanatical devotion to that cretin." She scrunched up her nose and then sighed. "I suppose it's my fault, in part. I shouldn't have encouraged his more... violent inclinations."

"It was a different time." He shrugged. "The kid's gone too far now; we all know it."

Sienna remained silent, occupying herself with her beer. Frankly, some part of her missed the days when force was met with force, but she understood the need to be more... reactionary in that capacity now. Rather than picking fights, they attended rallies and protests and marches, acting as the muscle to discourage humans who refused to see them as equals. It worked- and rather well- but, sometimes, she got the itch to throw the first punch, too.

She just had self control.

Her ears flicked forward, picking up the sudden change in chatter that droned beneath the music, how movement suddenly stopped. Scanning the room, her gaze landed on the disruption- though the woman causing it appeared oblivious.

"Hey..." Tukson sat forward, a frown coming to his lips. "Isn't that-"

"I do believe it is." Sitting forward, she set down her beer. "Tonight's about to get more interesting."

Brushing past other patrons, Winter Schnee marched towards an empty seat at the bar, trying not to ground her teeth with every step. She'd made the foolish mistake of heading straight from the airship to the family mansion to meet with Father, hoping for a quick resolution to whatever errand General Ironwood had her running but no.

Of all the stupid, controlling, underhanded, low down-

"Can I help you?"

Absently, she noted the bartender's stiff posture and tone, but couldn't be bothered to care. Instead, she reached into the pocket of her uniform jacket and slapped down every lien she had, plus a card. "Double scotch. No, nevermind, the strongest you have instead, whatever it is, please."

"It's not that much-"

Her gaze flicked to meet his, trying to control her fury as best she could. "The lien is for encouragement; the card is for my tab. I'd thank you to trust that I know my limits."

"Alright." He reached beneath the bar with a nod, then coughed into his fist. "Just the one or..."

"If you could line up four more, it would save us both some time," she replied, running a hand through her bangs while he complied with her request.

Being a soldier, she'd put up with her fair share of last minute changes and nigh impossible deadlines, but the stresses that came with military life paled in comparison to the ongoing agony of putting up with her family.

Well, she shouldn't say that, seeing as she was actually rather fond of her sister, but with her brother taking more after their father than anything, and Father himself being just about the only person she could think of that she wouldn't save from a burning building, the generalized statement remained true.

Some part of her thought that rather harsh, even if the sentiment only existed as a vague frustration vented in the privacy of her own mind- he was her father- but then she thought of all the reasons she had to be furious with the man, added on their conversation just an hour ago, and decided that she wouldn't be remiss at all for such barefaced hatred. The entire reason she'd joined the military straight after university was to leave behind all the trapping and annoyances of her youth, to include his overbearing parenting, but he seemed determined to drag her back into it. Not for any sentimental reason, no, he just didn't like the idea of someone being out from under his nerve.

She tossed back two of the shots the moment they were poured, the unfamiliar alcohol burning all the way down and making her almost regret her decision to drown her anger. The third went down much smoother, though, and the fourth almost felt pleasant.

A single night to drown her anger, to indulge it, before she buried it deep and muscled her way through the misery just like every time before.

With her fingers closing around the fifth, she paused to sigh and rub at her temple. Her last mission to Mistral had kept her at sea level for a few months and she hadn't drank during that time; her tolerance must've quickly left her, for the alcohol to already be filtering into her system. The lack of food probably didn't help.

Did this place sell food?

"You... want some more?" The bartender regarded her wearily while collecting up her empty glasses.

"Does this establishment sell food?" She ignored the question for the moment.

"No."

"Fuck." She ran a hand through her bangs again. "Just one more, then."

Without food, she wouldn't be able to sit there and drink all night- experience had taught her it was a good way to end up in someone's bathtub, and she was running rather short on people in the area she could trust. Reporting to the Headquarters building just so General Ironwood could personally inform her that Jacques had somehow gotten him to order her to attend his stupid gathering left her without a unit to contact and she'd intentionally driven as far from the base itself as possible to put distance between herself and everyone she'd rather like to punch.

She didn't even know the name of the bar, much less the town.

Tossing back the fifth shot, she slammed the glass onto the bar top with a bit too much force.

"You should be more careful." Winter twisted around on the barstool, ready to snap at whoever had so foolishly intruded on an already bad day, but her gaze landed on a Faunus... with absolutely stunning amber eyes framed by dark stripes that stood out against chestnut colored skin. The words died on her lips as she stopped to take in the biking leathers, the metal of zippers catching the low light of the bar. Tall with a nigh regal air about her that seemed much larger, somehow filling Winter's vision with her statuesque physique though they probably only differed by a few inches. Amidst short midnight black hair, two feline ears canted her way, the stripes on her arms clearly marking her as a tiger Faunus while the subtle definition indicated she was a warrior first and dignitary second. She couldn't begin to decipher the meaning of the red mark in the center of her forehead but set that aside for the moment as she began to speak. "If you break a glass, you will be paying for it."

Blue eyes darted to the recently emptied shot glass. "That's... fair. And you are?"

"Sienna Khan." With long, smooth strides, the Faunus claimed the seat beside her and set her beer down on the wood with a dull thunk. "And this is my bar."

"I apologize for my misconduct," she replied, sitting up a bit straighter and making an attempt at controlling the light flush filling her cheeks. "I'm Winter."

Somehow over the music, she heard the quiet chuckle that quite nearly sent shivers down her spine- likely due to the alcohol now crashing through her system. "I'm well aware of who you are."

She looked away coughing into her hand and grabbing the next shot, thankful to see the bartender had another at the ready. "Forgive the attempt at anonymity."

"Now isn't that curious." Sienna leaned against the bar and tilted her head. "Your family isn't usually so keen on hiding themselves. Loud, proud, and rather... obnoxious, I suppose would be a polite way of putting it."

With a shake of her head, she downed the next shot and set it on the counter- much softer this time. "While part of me recognizes it's well deserved, another part of me is constantly at war with the idea of never escaping a legacy I didn't build."

"Turnabout is fair play."

"Indeed it is." She raised the next shot glass. "And here's one to a lesson that never ends."

Part of the reason she loathed attending any manner of family gathering tied directly to her Father's awful personality and terrible business dealings. Their shared home life remained a point of contention as well but, ultimately, unrelated to the much longer problem he'd presented as being a complete and utter douche.

Ah, the alcohol had started kicking in, it seemed.

"So, what brings the eldest scion of the Schnee lineage to a little Faunus owned bar?"

Winter turned her head, meeting those burning golden eyes. "A mighty need for alcohol."

The laugh that answered her brought a little grin to her lips. "I suppose that's the correct answer. Perhaps it's on me for expecting a bigger reason."

"Now that is a longer story and, frankly, you'd probably be amused by it."

"Try me."

Downing the next shot, Winter leaned back, keeping a firm grip on the bar to ensure she didn't lose her seat. "My Father, in typical Jack-ass fashion, has opted to host an extravagant party, to which I am being ordered to attend by the military. Because otherwise, I wouldn't want to be around those old, stuffy, bigoted, pieces of Grimm shit for anything." Blinking her eyes, she noticed the fuzziness in her vision, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the bar. "I fought tooth and nail to get out of that house, away from him. Weiss, too. Now we're being forced back, like there's chains about our throats. It's absolutely abdominal." ... wait. "Abdominal? Abominable? That one."

She reached forward to collect another shot but a hand landed on her wrist, gently stopping her just short. "As amusing as it would be to watch you drink yourself under the table, I think you should be at least somewhat coherent."

"Any particle- particular reason?" Despite the occasional stumble, she remained remarkably in control of her facilities and aware of her surroundings. Like how Sienna leaned closer, using her foot to drag her stool near, and the mixed scents of gas and leather and sweat coming from her jacket, and the way her mouth quirked up into a smirk.

"Have you considered making your father regret forcing you to attend this party of his?"

Her eyes narrowed, unable to connect the dots- and she didn't think that had anything to do with the alcohol. "How so?"

"Do you have a date?" Her smirk slowly pulled a little wider. "Because, unless I miss my guess, your father seems like the type who would sooner jump out a window than willingly stand in the same room as someone like me."

Again, her gaze roved, at first missing the implication, because she saw nothing before her that would prompt her to leave a room- rather the opposite, in fact- but her father was a lesser creature. He'd turn his nose up at the riding leathers and stench of gasoline, he'd roll his eyes as the ink tattooed into her skin, and he'd absolutely go red in the face seeing a proud Faunus sitting at his dinner table.

"You... do you have any idea what you're suggesting?" Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "He's not a man known for being reasonable or caring."

"And I'm not known for being a doormat." Sienna offered her hand. "Perhaps I forgot to mention. I'm the owner of this bar and the current leader of the White Fang Gang."

The White Fang Gang- the unofficial militia turned motorcycle gang that had always stood ready to protect the Faunus all over Remnant. Painted as criminals by Father but more often than not merely toeing the lines of legality to ensure the safety of their own; she'd heard her fair share of stories about them, and far more correct versions during her tenure in the military. Just knowing the organization continued- and had gained favorable repute in recent years- nearly gave the man a heart attack whenever the news mentioned them. Having a member under his roof, and for that member to be the leader?

Now, she'd caught on to exactly what Sienna was suggesting, leaving the alcohol alone and turning to face her, slipping her hand into the waiting one. "Would you like to be my date for the party and potentially send my father into an apoplectic fit?"

In those eyes, a fire ignited. "It would be my pleasure."

Sienna, somehow, managed to reach her front door without too much difficulty, despite carrying over a hundred pounds of dead weight. "If I'd know you were this much of a lightweight, I would've cut you off sooner."

"I'm not a lightweight; it's the altitude," the woman replied, words slurred but still  understandable, if barely. "Where are we again?"

"For the fifth time, my apartment." She rolled her eyes but got the door open and carried Winter inside, having hoisted her onto her back when it became apparent that dismounting the motorcycle would be a bit too difficult. The ride from the bar hadn't been eventful- in fact, she'd honestly though her passenger had fallen asleep- but her state had deteriorated rapidly between points A and B, making this next step a bit... sticky.

It had seemed like an entirely sound suggestion for them to head back to Sienna's apartment, spend a bit of time in close proximity to really 'sell' the idea that they were together, but that was when she thought the woman would be capable of standing on her own two feet. Now, going through with that idea felt disingenuous at best.

"I like your tattoos." Kicking her door closed with her foot, she debated where to set down her drunken visitor while Winter continued mumbling into her shoulder. "I always wanted a tattoo."

"Of what?" The couch was closer, so she felt a mighty temptation to set her there and grab an extra blanket she kept on hand, but it wouldn't be very comfortable and it wasn't very close to the bathroom. That could be mitigated with a trash can, of course, but she didn't know if Winter would be able to aim well enough and scrubbing vomit from her carpet didn't sound like how she wanted to spend the following morning.

"A bird." One hand made a gesture that... probably would've resembled something, had she been sober, but came out more like an inelegant flap in a nonspecific direction. "Flying, free, perhaps a falcon of some sort."

"You strike me as more of a swan, really." Ultimately, she decided it would be poor manners to simply dump the woman on the couch. The bed was more comfortable anyway. "Why haven't you gotten it?"

"I'm not very free, am I? Trading one set of chains for another." A groan. "I shouldn't say that. It's insensitive."

"I assure you I have much thicker skin than you seem to think." She moved through the hallway leading back to her bedroom, careful not to drift too close to the walls. Not that Winter was waving her arms about but she'd rather not be picking up glass from a shattered picture frame. "Here, you can always speak freely. If you step out of line, I'll be sure to educate you." She toed her door open, momentarily regretting that she hadn't exactly expected company but also not bothered by it. In all likelihood, the woman would stumble out of the bedroom before she'd completely sobered up and wouldn't recall a bit of mess here and there. "And I'm beginning to see that it's not an inaccurate description. Just avoid a direct comparison."

"Of course. That makes sense." Winter sighed. "Your hair smells nice."

Sienna stopped at the side of her bed. "... thank you?"

"Skin, too."

"Excuse me?"

"You just... smell good." A slight groan. "I don't look forward to waking up and realizing this is all a dream."

A grin curled her lips. If someone asked her to imagine how a drunken Schnee scion might act, the reality would be just about the furthest thing from her mind. "Do your dreams often involve the smell of someone's skin?"

"Only the really good ones." With a bit of cajoling, Winter gained her feet, though she still clung to the Faunus' arm as a means of steadying herself before ungracefully falling onto the bed. "Why did you get them? The tattoos?"

For a moment, she stood beside the bed, mulling over whether she should really answer that question or not. Admittedly, she probably shouldn't, but part of the reason she'd invited the woman back to her apartment was so they could become more comfortable around each other. Hiding the truth seemed counter intuitive to that plan.

"There was a time when humans called Faunus nothing more than mindless animals." She sat down on the edge, unzipping her jacket and peeling it off to put her arms on full display. "So I became the tiger of their nightmares, because not only did I bear the stripes and ears of one, I had a mind just as sharp as theirs. They're a testament to how every insult they hurled at me just made me stronger than them."

Blinking slowly, Winter watched her for a moment, obviously fighting the inclination to sleep. "You earned them."

"I did. Through trial and tribulation, through every set back, I earned them." She smiled. "And they're nothing to be ashamed of."

A few nods before her brow pinched together, realizing that perhaps she was too drunk to accomplish that sort of motion at present. "I think they're rather fletching. What? Fetching. Beautiful. Divine."

"That is a step too far, I think." Chuckling, she got up, helping the woman settle and pointing her towards the bathroom. She even flipped on the light and cracked the door, just in case she needed the extra assistance in the middle of the night.

With all that done, Sienna settled on her couch and idly wondered how the following morning would play out. On the one hand, they might still try to pull this off, and she stood a good chance of making a massively public statement without spilling an ounce of blood. On the other... it could be very awkward if Winter had no recollection of that conversation.

She'd find out in the morning, one way or another.

Sienna carefully crept down the hallway, alert for any sounds. She'd woken up shortly after dawn and opted to doze while waiting for her guest to join her but, with the hour just shy of midday, she had to admit to some... serious concern. Surely Winter had to be awake by now, unless she'd somehow slipped out in the middle of the night, and there still remained the question of just what sort of person would wake up. Provided she woke up, of course, though she seriously doubted the woman had imbibed that much in the short time she was at the bar.

From the door, she could hear the gentle sound of the woman breathing, deep and even, and carefully pushed it open.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said softly, leaning against the doorjamb for a moment. Apparently, Winter was a very messy sleeper, though that might be because she fell asleep three sheets to the wind. Experience had taught the Faunus that waking up someone who didn't have their bearings could be a dangerous affair- especially if that person happened to be trained in any manner of combat- so she merely raised her voice. "Time to wake up."

"I am on leave, I wake up when I damn well feel like it," Winter replied, voice thick with sleep and not moving a muscle in the process.

"You may be on leave but you're in my bed."

A moment of silence before the woman suddenly jerked upright, scrubbing at her eyes and casting around before settling her gaze on the Faunus. "... it wasn't a dream?"

Sienna shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Though, if sober you has reservations, we needn't proceed with our plan. Sometimes liquor pulls from us things best left resting."

She looked away, obviously contemplating whether or not to go through with it, but when she looked back, blue eyes seemed focused on the ink on her arms before moving up to her face. "Is breakfast or lunch more appropriate?"

"I know a place that sells both." Her attention fell to the wrinkled clothing the woman slept in, the military uniform beyond wearable at this point. "But you aren't leaving here dressed like that."

The smirk that curled Winter's lips bolstered her confidence. "I would be delighted if I could borrow something more appropriate."

Walking over to her closet, Sienna threw it open to reveal a fair amount of leather. "Let's see if I have something in your size."

After picking out a suitable outfit and seeing Winter bedecked in riding leathers, with her hair down and a smirk on her lips... she had to admit some part of her regretted that this entire venture would only last until the party.

During her life, Winter had imagined more than once wiping the smug look off Father's face. She thought joining the military might do it, denying anything to do with the family legacy, perhaps even flippantly insulting him whenever some reporter chased her down for a sound bite, but it had never worked. He looked at her as he always did, with that stern tilt to his jaw, as if she was just another stone he had to step on to continue on his path. It infuriated her more than she'd ever admit.

But with the roar of Sienna's motorcycle ringing in her ears as they pulled up to the estate a short week later, the potential for what awaited her... honestly, she almost didn't care. It would be good of course, and something she'd look back upon often after he disowned her- or whatever other manner of 'punishment' he might dream up- but it wouldn't be the highlight of the night for her.

No, that spotlight had already been stolen entirely.

Sienna had forgone her usual riding leathers for a more formal outfit- a bit awkward to wear with their chosen method of transportation, but she made it work- wedge heels that gave her just a few more inches and an intricate shawl dyed blood red. Not exactly subtle but it fit her so well, enhanced the cutting look in her eyes, and Winter knew, the moment she saw her, that she would be entering the mansion with the most gorgeous date.

Though, only for the night.

As they pulled up to the gate, she reached out and punched a code into the keypad, allowing the gate to swing open. She could see on the ride up the drive that they weren't the first to arrive but certainly not the last; Father had taken up a position at the top of the steps leading into the mansion, obviously awaiting their arrival.

Unlike the first time she'd rode on the bike, drunkenly slumped against Sienna's back, this time she had her arms firmly secured around the Faunus' waist, squeezing lightly and tilting her head to speak into the special holes cut into her helmet to allow her ears free movement.

"He's watching us."

"Then let's give him a show," she replied, revving the engine and shooting them forward before coasting to a stop off to the side of the drive- within easy reach if they had to make a quick escape.

The moment the engine died, Father began his tirade. "Winter, where have you been?"

Reaching up, she pulled off her helmet- her helmet, because borrowing Sienna's extra one made her feel awkward, seeing as she didn't have a second set of ears to fill the spaces- and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm on leave, Father, and I decided to spend my vacation with my girlfriend."

She dismounted the motorcycle first, the creaking of her leather jacket music to her ears. She hadn't bought herself a new wardrobe in years- the military provided her with work and workout attire, and her 'social life' may as well be nonexistent- but riding leathers of her own, ones that fit her style and her frame, gave her just a bit more confidence as she met his gaze. Truly, she relished the rising tide of fury turning his delicate skin the same shade as a tomato, but turned her attention away to offer a hand as Sienna dismounted.

"Thank you, my Seraph." Removing her own helmet brought her ears out on display, the appendages rotating and wiggling as they often did whenever freed from the constraint. They both set their helmets down on the seat, Winter offering her arm and smiling softly.

They'd spent the past week... well... getting closer, would be one way to put it. Trading simple information at first, over brunch at a Faunus owned bistro that served some of the best food she'd ever had. But, when the night came, Winter found herself reluctant to either return to her family home or retreat to a hotel room, so she found herself on Sienna's couch- after a brief argument, to be sure, but she didn't think it appropriate to kick her host out of her own bed. They spent a few days practicing simple motions, like the casual touches that would naturally come between partners, sitting close together on the couch while watching television, dancing at the bar whenever there were few patrons to object to the change in music, and the like. Winter honestly had never felt more comfortable around someone.

"Father, I'd like to properly introduce you," she said, tearing her gaze away to look at the man- and they very well might push him into a heart attack before they even hit the door, given how he was shaking with barely contained rage. "This is Sienna-"

"I know. Who she is." Through gritted teeth and with an artery pulsing at his temple, he looked at both of them with utter contempt. "How dare you-"

"Please, don't hold it against her, Sir." Sienna's voice was smoother than silk and sweeter than the finest sugar, because they both knew that would piss him off much worse than if she scoffed in his face. "She's always so mindful of the family legacy."

"Of course." Winter chuckled warmly, pouring it on thick as she spied just what she wanted to see out of the corner of her eye. "I know how dalliances would look in the public eye, Father. I wanted to ensure we were serious and committed before going public with our relationship."

Before he had the chance to blow up, they all heard the snap of a scroll picture being taken a moment before some reporter or other darted up to the trio with his device out and most likely recording. "Miss Schnee, can you confirm that on the record? You two are dating?"

"We are indeed," she replied, a soft chuckle passing her lips as Sienna pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

Father opened his mouth, likely to deliver one of his famous, grave 'a word in my study, now' lines, but his attention got pulled away as a limo started up the drive. With Klein in the front seat- and Whitley living at the mansion- he'd obviously just returned with Weiss, whom she hoped would simply shrug off being informed about her supposed girlfriend. They kept in touch more regularly in recent years but... well, she couldn't be exactly sure how her sister might react.

Until the limo came to a stop and Klein hurried to the door, opening it with a beaming smile hiding beneath his bushy mustache.

And he had every reason to do so.

Weiss got out first, of course, but she immediately turned around and offered a hand to her date- someone Winter immediately recognized from her sister's correspondence, even if they'd never been formally introduced.

"Blake." Her own date smiled even wider, obviously enjoying this stroke of luck. "What a wonderful surprise."

"Sienna?" Feline ears- not the same size or shape as the tiger Faunus', and idly she wondered about that- perked up as she laughed, though it sounded somewhat forced. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, my sweet Seraph only informed me a week ago that we'd be attending." She gestured to Winter, and something must've been communicated in that gesture because Blake immediately relaxed.

"See?" Weiss- either playing along or being entirely genuine, it was difficult to tell- turned her attention towards her date. "I truly informed you as soon as I knew."

"I never said you didn't," Blake replied, offering a hand to a third person exiting the limo. "I just wished for more warning; Ilia and I did have a date planned for tonight."

Another Faunus stepped out- this one unfamiliar to Winter, but about the same age as her sister, and she might've missed the brilliant red flush to her skin if she hadn't been so curious- and grey eyes flicked between Weiss and Blake before a scoff left her lips. "I still say this is breaking the rules."

"I will absolutely make it up to you." She reached up, pushing her bangs away from her eyes, highlighting the lack of foundation to cover her scar. "I promise-"

"Who. Are. They?" If Father wasn't close to some manner of aneurysm before, he certainly had to be on the verge of one now.

"Oh, forgive my manners, Father." Weiss turned. "This is my girlfriend, Blake, and her girlfriend, Ilia."

The reporter, who'd shied away when it looked like Father might make a scene, snapped another picture of the trio, drawing a heated glare from the man as he struggled with trying to formulate words.

Although aware of it, she didn't particularly care.

"Her girlfriend?" Winter raised a brow, certain she'd missed some manner of nuance.

Sienna put a hand on the small of her back, a soothing gesture. "Oh, Blake's polyamorous; her partners don't always date each other."

"Ah." She couldn't admit that she didn't quite understand the concept so instead offered a hand to both of them. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Weiss' sister, Winter."

"We've heard a lot about you," Blake said, offering a small smile and subtly nudging Ilia into at least shaking her hand.

With a huff and something... almost like a growl, Father turned on heel and marched inside, all the while muttering beneath his breath and being trailed by the reporter at a safe distance. Some part of her relished it but she didn't watch longer than absolutely necessary, instead turning her attention to her sister as a question nagged at the back of her mind.

"Last I heard, you two were just friends." She motioned between Weiss and Blake. "How long have you been dating?"

Almost immediately, her sister's composure crumbled. "Uh, well, officially dating is- that, I mean, I don't exactly remember when-"

"Three weeks," Blake replied, her ears twitching slightly as she wrapped an arm around one girlfriend's waist. "She wanted to tell you but... thought doing so in person would be better."

A frown tugged at her lips as her brows furrowed. "While I appreciate the consideration, I would've been happy to know sooner. I'm glad your studies abroad aren't your sole focus." Her gaze drifted to Ilia. "And thank you."

"Me?" Seemingly taken aback, she looked at the others, her high ponytail whipping to the side slightly before her eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"I don't... exactly understand what polyamorous is-"

"Polyamory." Sienna gently corrected, chuckling. "I'll explain it later."

"I appreciate that." She nodded before continuing her thought. "Anyway, while I don't understand it, I do realize that it must be a unique position you're in, and I'd like to thank you for giving my sister this opportunity. I've always worried she'd be a bit too closed off to form close relationships-"

The hand at the small of her back slipped beneath her jacket, the surprising touch cutting her short. "I realize your intentions but I think you might be embarrassing her." Confused, she looked over to find Weiss looking a touch... shocked, she would say, though a blush had started in her cheeks and crept down her neck, but any attempt to further investigate was stopped when Sienna very gently prodded her up the steps. "Perhaps it would be better to have those conversations privately, and not before the sort of night we are expecting."

Winter pressed her lips into a line for a moment before acquiescing, heading through the double doors that served as the entrance to the mansion. "I... suppose you have a point."

"If it helps, I'm quite certain Blake's genuinely interested in her."

For a moment, she considered replying with 'as opposed to us' but the words... well, after spending so much time with Sienna, she had to admit that she didn't look forward to the end of the party, when they'd undoubtedly part ways. She still had to go back after her leave ended and the Faunus had a bar and biker group to run.

They could probably stay in touch, though. After all this, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to propose remaining friends, right?

... although that would mean she'd have to return Sienna's jacket at some point, the very one she was wearing, with the White Fang emblem on the back.

"Something's troubling you," Sienna said as they strolled through the foyer, past several servants who seemed hard pressed to hide their amusement.

"Have you... given any thought to what will happen after the night ends?" She cleared her throat as they stepped into the main ballroom, where guests were mingling and whispering to each other, more than a few throwing curious- and barely concealed disgusted- looks at them, not that either cared. "What I mean is, well, are we going to remain in contact after this?"

A hum answered her at first as her ears flicked around, catching the quiet conversations better than she could. "What are your thoughts on the matter?" One corner lifted up in a wry smirk. "I'm already here so I'll not be running off in the middle of the party, if that's your concern. You can be honest and it won't change the outcome of the night."

"I'd very much like to continue talking," she said, flashing a polite smile at one of the waiters while plucking two flutes of champagne from his tray, offering one to her date. "I'll have to return to Mistral at the end of the week, though, and my next leave won't be for another few months, at least."

"I never thought I'd say these words." Sienna accepted the flute and lightly clinked them together in a toast. "But I'm happy to have made a friend in the Atlesian military."

Although 'friend' wasn't... quite the word she would've wanted to hear, Winter smiled all the same and took a sip. "Likewise for the White Fang. Perhaps next leave, you'll teach me how to ride?"

"I can do that but I must warn you, you'll have to pick out your own bike."  She nodded her head towards the entrance, indicating her own motorcycle. "You can learn on mine but I don't ride bitch for anyone."

"I'd have it no other way." They both laughed, lightly, perfectly at ease despite the rising tide of outrage surrounding them, which only doubled when Weiss walked in with her own dates. Or... date? "Now, about this polyamorous thing-"

"Polyamory." Sienna rolled her eyes, though she didn't seem too upset over her continued confusion. "I'm surprised you're unfamiliar with the concept."

"Enlighten me, please."

"It's when-" Suddenly her ears flicked and her brows pinched together, turning towards the entrance to the ballroom. Whatever had caught her attention seemingly also caught Blake's, causing her to turn around as well, and that set both Ilia and Weiss on edge. "Don't tell me he's that stupid."

Before Winter had a chance to ask, she caught the reverberating roar of several motorcycles... inside the house, by the sound of it, and that proved true a moment later when three motorcycle roared into the ballroom, one after another. Her first thought was to pull Sienna out of harm's way but she got beaten to the punch when an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her just far enough off her feet to be moved back safely while several shouts of alarm from the other guests. Thankfully, the ruffians crashing the party didn't seem inclined to run anyone over, coming to a stop in the middle of the room and shutting off their engines.

"I'm guessing they're not friends of yours." She ventured, setting down her champagne and watching who appeared to be the ring leader of the trio- a bull Faunus with horns sweeping back over his red hair, having ridden in sans helmet.

"More like unruly children I'm forced to babysit." Sienna sighed, drawing herself up to her full height. "Adam, you absolute fool. Just what are you hoping to accomplish?"

"You mean aside from justice?" He sneered, hands clenched into fists. "The White Fang's grown weak under your leadership. It's time we take things in a... different direction."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that going to war is a bad idea." With slow, deliberate movements, she reached up and unhooked the pin keeping her shawl in place. "But if it's a fight you want, I'm more than happy to oblige." As the red fabric fell away, she turned her head to look at Winter. "Have you ever been in a bar fight?"

"Can't say that I have," she replied.

"First rule: only grab a weapon you can use," she said, wasting no time in kicking her leg out and hooking her foot around a nearby chair, pulling it towards her and unseating the stunned man formerly occupying it. In one smooth motion, she folded it closed and lifted it up, grabbing the chair by the legs while Adam pulled a metal bat from the side of his bike. "Second rule: everything's a weapon if you know what you're doing."

Winter watched, slightly stunned, as the other two Faunus- on one she could quite tell, but the ears on the other pointed to some manner of fox- charged forward with switchblades in their hands. They were both soundly met with the chair, Sienna hitting one and using the rebound to strike the other. She thought it would be then that this Adam character would strike, but he'd gotten distracted while glancing around the room.

"You." So much vile hatred packed into a single syllable as he stared at Blake across the ballroom, taking a menacing step forward. "It's almost like fate's brought us together again, my darling."

Quickly looking around, Winter couldn't quite find a recognizable weapon- plenty of paintings of Father, but not a single sword, even a decorative one, really, did the man's ego know no bounds- but opted to simply follow Sienna's lead, grabbing an empty chair and folding it in before coming up behind the Faunus with the ears and slamming the chair against his back. Sure, it probably counted as a bit underhanded, but she was also only armed with a chair while they had knives, so it probably balanced out.

While the two renegade Faunus stumbled and groaned from their injuries, Winter stepped up beside Sienna with confusion plain in her voice as she watched Adam's lunge miss its intended target. "I thought he was here to fight you; why is he going after Blake?"

"Because he's an idiot who doesn't understand the word 'no', and that's the answer to almost any question you ask," she replied, pressing their advantage and delivering another wicked blow to one's head while Winter caught the other as he tried to help, both blows resounding with rather satisfying thuds. "He's never been the most focused, except when blinded by rage, and he possesses absolutely no foresight."

"Then let's use that." She waited a moment until it looked like Adam might to lunge for Blake again, who'd broke away from Weiss and Ilia to draw his attention, before tossing her chair at him, the top of it catching his cheek solidly.

Shaking his head to clear it, his eyes fell upon her with the full strength of his rage.

"Good rule of thumb," Sienna said while stepping in front of her. "Don't throw away a weapon unless you've got a better one handy."

"I wasn't throwing it away; I was handing it off," she replied as Blake, seeing her opportunity, grabbed the chair and cracked Adam across the back of his head with it while Ilia disarmed one of the underlings and Weiss tackled the other to the ground. As the bull Faunus slumped to the ground, Winter plucked the bat from his limp grip, though she didn't have much reason to use it now. "See?"

"I stand corrected." Those golden eyes flicked over her and she couldn't help but preen a little bit. "You're rather good in a fight."

"I'm better with a sword." Purely for the purposes of showing off, she flipped the bat around, the weight of it hardly a problem after so many years spend studying swordplay. "Though I've never seen anyone wield a folding chair with such expert grace."

"I learned from the best." Her attention slid to Blake as she pointedly dropped the chair on Adam's unconscious form for good measure. "Your mother, specifically."

"So I've heard; never thought I'd have a chance to live up to her example." With a small nod, she excused herself to check on Weiss and Ilia, both of whom seemed to be having a quiet conversation that looked far more friendly than their interaction before.

"Klein." Winter turned, handing over the bat. "Keep this somewhere close by and call the authorities. Let them know we've dealt with some party crashers and we'd appreciate their assistance."

"I'm afraid I'll need to step out and make a call." A frown touched Sienna's lips. "Although Adam's been... removed from our ranks, the other two are still active White Fang members and I'll need to spread the word that their actions tonight have changed that. I'll not waste our community resources on them." She looked over at the motorcycles. "Could you ensure their bikes are impounded? They've certainly forfeited any right to them."

"I'll see to it, Ma'am." Klein bowed before shuffling away, bat in hand.

Winter turned her head, flashing a small smile towards some of the other guests. "We do apologize for the interruption. Please, everyone, continue with your evening."

"Is that all you have to say?" Her gaze slid over to see Father fuming as he entered the room. "That degenerate you call a date brought her filthy friends-"

In that moment, something happened that had never occurred before, because for all the times the man tried to get under her skin, she'd retained her poised at least until she left his presence. It was a skill Weiss didn't possess, always quicker to talk back, to show her emotions, but Winter never let him see her break composure. That, she would only allow in private, away from his judgmental gaze.

But that didn't hold true now.

"Shut your fucking mouth," she said, meeting his gaze evenly. "I know your mind's too small to think outside the box you've built around yourself, so allow me to translate into words you do understand. Sienna was just violently attacked by a political opponent, purely because bigoted curmudgeons like you continuously resist all attempts to be decent and fair people. Were you a little less of a blithering idiot, this whole mess could've been avoided, much like the recent poor turn your quarterly reports have taken." A pause, only long enough for him to think her finished, and then she continued. "It's really no wonder the only people willing to be near you have to be compensated for burden."

It remained one of the family's most guarded secrets. That about half of their supposed status and respect in Atlas was bought and paid for with 'donations' made almost every month. That the real reason any threats to the SDC's bottom line were considered so dire was that it would ruin the reputation Father had built. Where their maternal Grandfather had built his legacy upon being a good man, Father could only buy a shadow of the same, and Winter and Weiss knew it.

She knew, by the shaking in his voice and the look in his eyes, that she'd finally crossed the line. "Get out and do not come back."

"Gladly," she replied with a smile on her lips, turning and offering her arm to Sienna. "Shall we?"

"Let’s."

She caught Weiss' eye and noted the look of pride touched with a bit of jealousy- because she would've loved to be the one to tear him down like that- as well as the flash of the reporter's scroll as they left. Frankly, she hoped the caption read that it was one of the proudest moments of her life, because that would be true, but she looked forward to seeing how badly the man wanted it changed. Regardless, being disowned would be impossible to cover up, and no doubt General Ironwood would address the matter personally if asked for comment. Watching the fireworks fly during that interview would be something she'd also anticipate.

"I'd call this a rather successful night." Winter nodded to herself. "Pity it has to end so early."

"The bar's still open." Sienna pointed out, withdrawing her arm- which quite nearly caused her to frown- only to wrap it around the woman's shoulders. "But I think we should go to the tattoo parlor, first."

"Another stripe?"

"No. A swan, for you." She smiled, briefly glancing behind them. "I'd say you've earned it."

She smiled, then, and felt even more pleased with herself than before. It must've clouded her judgment for a moment because she stopped dead in her tracks, slipped a hand to the back of Sienna's neck, and pulled her down into a firm kiss.

In the back of her mind, she panicked, because she'd just grievously overstepped their agreement, but the vast majority of her didn't particularly care in the moment. However, as she pulled away, a blush began to rise in her cheeks that she fervently tried to beat down while looking away.

"I- I apologize. I shouldn't have-"

Fingers grabbed her jaw- gently, but firm enough that she couldn't imagine not complying as they redirected her back to meet those shining golden eyes.

"I agree." Then, Sienna smirked, that same expression she wore when the first met, a look that came to her several times whenever she had an idea she wished to pursue. "You shouldn't have pulled away so quickly."

Twenty minutes later, while people left the party and the police showed up to deal with Adam, Jacques came out to try and dissuade some of his 'friends' from considering withdrawing their support from the SDC. He didn't get very far, of course, seeing as he got sidetracked when he caught sight of them enthusiastically making out, Winter with her back pressed up against the side of the mansion and legs wrapped around Sienna's waist, and it took him screaming until he was almost blue in the face for them to stop.

Rather than bother listening or replying, Sienna just rolled her eyes, gathered Winter up in her arms, and started heading for her bike. A proud soldier she might be but the woman found herself rather enjoying her girlfriend's growing habit of carrying her places.

All in all, the best decision she'd ever made, and Winter casually flipped Jacques off while informing Weiss- who seemed absolutely beside herself with glee as she and her dates prepared to leave for the evening- that she'd be heading out to get a tattoo and that they should meet up for lunch sometime before she left for Mistral.

She never could've guessed that going to a bar with the explicit intention of getting hammered out of fury would turn out so well... but neither was she complaining.

[grayzaweek]

Day 6: Assassin-Spy AU

A/N: You asked for darkness. I had to cut a few things, but still, reader discretion is advised.

“The cult’s name is Avatar,” Erza began handing him her findings. Gray flipped through the pages. There were a lot of pages. He set them down to read through later. “Their leader, or Priest, goes by the name Arlock. No intel on what he looks like.”

“They’ve proclaimed themselves as the successors to the Balam Alliance,” Jellal added. “They worship Zeref, and go to every depth imaginable to do so.”

Gray didn’t even look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on Erza.

“Usually, we would apprehend one of the grunts, get to the big fish through the small fish,” she said with a grimace. “But Arlock and his lieutenants are too well insulated.”

Gray scanned her face, staying silent while turning the gears in his head. There was only one reason why Erza would ask him for help, and it wasn’t for firepower. She and Jellal could take most dark guilds by themselves.

“You need someone inside,” he said finally. “You want me to go under.”

“You’d be the perfect recruit-”

“Shut up,” Gray told Jellal quietly while keeping his gaze on Erza, who bit her lip in momentary uncertainty before stepping up.

“As Jellal said, you would be the perfect recruit,” she told him. “They are… an expanding business, and are on the lookout for potential recruits to help further their cause. You, a former Fairy Tail mage with Devil Slayer magic, would be too tempting to pass up.”

“Your history with Deliora might present some problems,” Jellal said and Gray finally turned his attention to him. “You have documented conflict with one of Zeref’s demons. They’ll be privy to it. As a Zeref cult, that’ll be a roadblock.”

Without a word, Gray turned back to Erza. Then he asked, “What would I hafta do, exactly?”

“You would have to get close enough to identify Arlock and get intel on the structure and reach of the organisation. And here’s the endgame.” She held out a folder to him, which he took and opened. “This is an arrest warrant for Arlock, signed by the King himself. It’s solid and was issued about a year ago. It was not executed because we can’t identify or find him.”

“But you can. If recruited, you might get close enough to signal us in. You see Arlock, you call us in and we’ll take him down.” Jellal paused. “We’ll set you up with all you need, don’t worry.”

There was urgency in his tone and Gray didn’t respond as he read the entire warrant.

“If Gray does get recruited, he could be taken anywhere,” Erza said finally. “I don’t like that.”

“Why don’t you just go in and take them down?” Gray asked Erza before Jellal could respond. “Would be simpler.”

“Because we want Arlock. The grunts are matter-of-course.” Jellal shrugged. “We need the head of the snake. That’s why we need someone inside to give us the signal to get Arlock.”

“We need to think about this,” Erza said decisively as Gray leaned back in his chair, now leafing through Erza’s notes. She’d been very thorough, putting a lot of effort into the report, though her handwriting had not improved much. She must have wanted to take down Avatar pretty badly. “I am not going to order him to do anything with a risk factor like you’re talking about here. So give us a day or two and we’ll get back to you with an answer.”

Jellal raised his hands, palms out. “Absolutely. I just called this meeting to make my pitch. The rest is up to you.”

He got up to leave the small inn room they’d been sitting in, but Gray stopped him with three words.

“I’ll do it.”

Jellal turned and looked at him. “Are you sure?”

Before he could answer, Erza jumped in. “Gray, we should take our time and gather our options. This is dangerous–”

“Gimme a coupla days to get ready,” Gray told her. “I’ll give it a shot.” He looked at Jellal for the first time that evening. “When do we start?”

“Friday,” he replied. “That’ll give us time to sort out logistics and see about a shadow team. Prep you.”

“I’ve gone UC before.” Gray held up Erza’s notes. “I’ve got all the prep right here.”

Erza shook her head before turning to Jellal. “I want full coverage on him. Whatever, whenever. If anything happens en route I want to be close enough to act. I don’t want him out there without backup.”

“He won’t be. We’ll have him covered at all times.”

“What about after he gets recruited?”

“He’ll be on his own until we can set up communications and establish location. After that, we’ll be close enough to act upon getting the signal.”

That ended the questions from Erza, but she still frowned. Jellal turned to Gray again.

“Friday?”

“Friday.”

After he left, Erza exhaled deeply and sat down on the corner of the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair and then fixed Gray with a glare.

“I still feel you should think about this. Any second thoughts and we pull out.”

Gray shook his head. “You called me here because you needed my help. So I’m helping.” Then he smiled. “And you should know me well enough by now that I’m too thick for even a single thought, let alone seconds.”

Erza was not amused. “Gray…”

“Erza, do you, or do you not want these assholes put away?”

“Yes, but-”

“And this is the most expedient way of doing that?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Then we’re doing it.”

Erza looked at him for a few seconds. He could tell she was turning things over in his head. Finally, she nodded.

“Okay, Gray. I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

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Gray moved down the aisle, looking at inflatable pillows. His partner, Reynard, was at the counter of the store, speaking in hushed tones with the proprietor. A week in and this was his daily routine. They went out, shook down shops, recruited homeless people to run drugs for them. It was grunt work, but one always had to climb ladders in these sorts of situations. Building trust was essential.

The store wasn’t deserted. There was a clerk mopping the floor while two other customers gathered things into baskets. Gray was considering buying an inflatable pillow when the door opened, causing a bell to chime, and another customer walked in. Gray glanced at the door, scanning the newest addition for threats, but glanced away when he saw that it was Erza.

She browsed the items on sale as Gray monitored both her and Reynard, who was still busy talking. Invariably, Erza went and stood beside him, taking a pillow in her hands and turning it over.

“How’re you doing, Gray?” she asked in a low voice without looking at him.

“I’m good. What’re you doing here?”

“Needed to check. We had no eyes on you for a week.”

Gray took a deep breath. “Are you fucking shitting me?” he hissed as quietly as he could. “He said there’d be a shadow team.”

“There was, but they lost you after they took you to the station. Jellal lost his head about that. Where were you taken?”

“Malba. They have a train, Erza. Use it to transport drug mules from city to city. We ride it every day, hitting most of the towns, escorting the mules.”

She nodded. “And you are okay?”

“I am, but I almost wasn’t. They had me strip naked and played ping-pong with my nuts to make sure I wasn’t some UC guy.”

Erza sighed and put the pillow back. “I’m sorry, Gray. Do you want out? I give the word and we’ll swarm this place and pull you out, make it look like a bust.”

“Nah. But I want you to do something else. Who’s out there with you?”

“Jellal and Sawyer. We were eating out fingernails all week but we have you now and won’t drop the ball.”

Gray looked at Reynard again. He was now pointing at the guy behind the counter. They seemed to be arguing.

“Okay. After we’re out of here, there’ll be another pair here tomorrow. Have someone swing by on random enforcement and bust them.”

“Okay. Why?”

“The more people they’re down, the more important I become. Maybe they’ll think twice about playing ping-pong with me again.”

“Okay, we’ll do that, but that’ll pull surveillance off you.”

“Didn’t have it for a week. One day won’t matter.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ll make sure at least Jellal stays with you. And here, take this.”

She pulled out her purse as if counting money for the pillow and held up a small lacrima communication device between her index and middle finger. Gray took it and shoved it into his pocket.

“Be very careful to not get seen or heard when you call,” she told him. “I’ll be available anytime.”

“Right.”

“Now I have to go buy a pillow. Take care of yourself, Gray.”

“I’ll try.”

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“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“Gray, do you have something to report?”

“Yeah. They want to make me a full member.”

“…when?”

“I don’t know. But there’ll be a test and a ceremony.”

“Will Arlock be at this ceremony?”

“Probably. I’ll keep you posted. Later.”

“Gray-”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“…okay.”

“Take care of yourself Erza.”

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“Gray, you’ve missed your last two check-ins, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“…yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Write this down.”

“Just a moment… okay, go on.”

“Remember the day we talked? You bought a pillow.”

“Yes.”

“The owner of the shop. His name is Vito Castagnoli. He’s been an associate of Avatar. Gets paid to look the other way. He sells prescription drugs wholesale. He has a wife and two sons, so cash is tight.”

“Okay.”

“His eldest son, Michael, is a good boy. Naive and dumb, but good. He straight up told the Avatar goons that their shop was not for sale. Father and son had a falling out. The father knows that he’s gonna pay for that, but the son refuses to betray his morals.”

“I see.”

“My test is to kill them. Both father and son. The hit’s been scheduled for this Friday.”

“Specifics?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll do it alone.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“I want you to get the whole family out of here. I want them gone without a trace. Outside Fiore if you can.”

“Understood.”

“That’s it. I’m out.”

“Okay. See you Friday.”

1234567890

Erza shot up from the rock she’d been sitting on as soon as Gray stepped through the brush. Without a word, she came up and enveloped him in a tight hug which knocked the air out of him. Gray put his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him and held her there as she rubbed his back.

It had been a week since the hit, but they’d spent all of ten seconds together during the hand-off before he’d had to go. This was the first time he’d had prolonged physical contact with her after going undercover.

At long last, Erza let go of him and held him at arm’s length to appraise him. She frowned as she looked him over.

“You look like a wreck.”

Gray smiled. He saw what she was looking at every day. He’d lost a lot of weight and it showed. The bags under his eyes would be going nowhere fast. She was right on the money. He was a wreck.

“Whatever gave me away?”

“Gray, don’t joke. Are you all right? What happened to you?”

He shrugged. “Don’t you want to know why I asked to meet first?”

“I want to know how you’re doing first. You look like you’ve been hit by a famine.”

Where do I begin, he thought as he sat down on the grass. Erza sat right across from him.

“I guess it’s a mix of the sleeplessness, starvation and the drugs.”

“Drugs?!”

He shrugged again. “In a crew where everyone uses them, I’ll blow my cover if I refuse. There’s no choice.”

“But there are-”

“Time-release additives by the manufacturer?” He shook his head. “The crush the pills and snort them. Renders the additives useless.”

Erza said nothing for a while. Then she licked her lips. “And what about the starvation and sleeplessness?”

“Those are related. I usually skip dinner so the hunger keeps me awake.”

“But why?”

“It’s a pit of snakes, Erza. I can’t close my eyes for five minutes at a stretch. Three assholes tried to shank me in the first week alone.”

“But now?”

“Now not so much, but I don’t trust them.”

Erza sighed. “Gray, do you want to-”

“No. I can’t. Not now. That’ll waste all this effort.”

“All right. So what do you have for me?”

“Locations of chapters and branches of Avatar.” He took out a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to her. “Sadly, no Arlock yet.”

“This is good enough,” Erza told him as she pocketed the note after scanning it quickly. “We can target one chapter, arrest a grunt and bring down the whole branch.”

“That’d be a significant blow, yes. That might even net me another promotion. They’ll want strong people in their core squad.”

“Speaking of which, how went the ceremony?”

“Oh, that.” Gray took off his coat and his shirt and pointed at his right pectoral, which now sported the mark of Avatar where once the Fairy Tail emblem was.

Erza nodded to herself. “We’ll get that tattoo removed once you’re done.”

“It’s not a tattoo,” Gray said off-handedly as he put his shirt back on. “It’s a brand.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, they had a branding iron and all that. Real theatrical. Chanting and stuff.Sure felt like a cult ceremony.”

He chuckled, but Erza wasn’t amused. She sat chewing her lip and Gray didn’t have the words to comfort her. So he got up.

“I have to be getting back now,” he told her. “It’s been good seeing you, Erza.”

“Gray.”

“Hmm?”

“Please take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

1234567890

The old, rundown church in the middle of Mikage forest was probably the worst place Gray had ever been. Not because it was a shambles, neither because it was the main headquarters of Avatar. He’d seen places in worse states of disrepair.

He just didn’t like what the ruins contained.

There was a nude woman lying on a threadbare couch to the left side of the room he was in. Her face and body were turned in toward the rear cushions and she appeared to be asleep or unconscious. Gray couldn’t see her face, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. They had most likely drugged her, raped her, and left her unclothed on the couch. Gray believed anyone who did that was capable of the same casualness when it came to murder. He leaned his head down for a moment as he filled with revulsion.

Gray had seen the worst of what humans could do to one another. But by the time he was a witness, the crime had been committed and the suffering was over. Every case left its psychological mark but it was balanced by the fulfilment of justice. He didn’t solve every case, but there was still accomplishment in giving every case his best work.

But when you went undercover, you moved from the safe confines of justice done and entered the world of the depraved. You saw how humans preyed on one another, and there was nothing you could do about it without blowing cover. You had to take it in and live with it to see the case through. Gray wanted to save that woman from another minute of abuse, but he couldn’t. Not now. There was a greater justice he was looking for.

Mary, the Avatar lieutenant who had been giving him the tour, now smiled at him.

“Fuck her,” she said cheerfully.

Gray gave her a long look. “Why?”

“I’m recommending you to Arlock. I have to be sure that you’re not a queer.”

He wanted to reach out and smash her face in, but he settled for tilting his head and smirking. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do it and you’ll be told.”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t have to prove a goddamn thing to you.”

“Oh no, not to me. To Lord Zeref.”

“Well he ain’t here right now, is he?”

Her eyes hardened at that, though her smile didn’t falter. “You will not make light of him, Fullbuster.”

“I’ll do whatever I want. You asked me here. You need me in your ranks. I can refuse and walk right out.”

“Then you’ll never get the precious Book of E. N. D. you’ve been searching for.”

Gray remained silent. That was his objective for entering, as far as they knew. She had cornered him. Mary smiled sweetly.

“So now I’ll watch you fuck her and prove you’re no queer. Infidels have no place in the Inner Circle.”

He looked from her to the woman on the sofa and felt his stomach turn.

1234567890

“Hello.”

“…”

“Gray?”

“Yeah. Hey.”

“Report?”

“I got pushed up to lieutenant.”

“You met Arlock?”

“Yes.”

“Then your job is done. We’re pulling you out.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Bigger things going on. Meet me tomorrow and I’ll tell you.”

“Gray, I’m-”

“I gotta go.”

1234567890

As soon as Gray reached the rendezvous, he knew something was up.

“Were you followed?”

Gray answered with a question of his own. “Where’s Erza?”

“She’s currently in a meeting with the Rune Knights in Crocus, discussing plans of attack,” Jellal replied. “Did she not tell you I was coming in her stead?”

“No.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.”

“Then tell me what you have.”

Gray hesitated just a moment before telling him what all he’d learnt of Project Purification, where the entire populace of Malba was to be massacred as a sacrifice to Zeref. Jellal sat on a rock and listened to it all and nodded.

“Any idea about time frame?”

“Not, but soon. Sometime within the next month.”

“I see. We’re pulling you out.”

“Why?” he asked, anger flashing through his system. “I need to stay here. I can misdirect and delay them. I’m in.”

Jellal shook his head. “Gray, you’ve been in deep cover for half a year. You need out. You need rest, rehabilitation and a psychological analysis.”

“Fuck you, Fernandes, I’m the one in there! This should be my call!”

“Erza wants you out.”

That stopped his tirade and Gray turned away, scowling.

“Is that not why you took the assignment? Because she asked for your help?”

“Shut up.”

“But am I wrong?” Gray didn’t answer. “The main reason why you’re doing this is because you love her.”

He turned very slowly and levelled an icy glare at the man seated calmly on the rock.

“Pick your next words very carefully,” Gray said through clenched teeth.

“I do too,” Jellal said, looking down at his lap. “That’s the truth. I do love her. But… I also killed one of my best friends with my own hands. I even tried to kill her.” He sat silently for a while. “Nothing I do will ever change that fact. Knowing that, knowing what I did, I can’t even bring myself to hold her. Not with these same hands. It’s too unclean. I can’t do it.”

Gray closed his eyes and turned away, shaking his head. He hated the fact that he knew what Jellal was talking about.

“So I try my best to stay out of her way, because I can’t do it. I just can’t.” A pause. “But you can. And I want to get you out before you do something that you can’t come back from. If she’s with someone who can keep her happy, I’d be the happiest man in the world.”

Gray took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re a bit too late for that.”

“What?”

“You have no idea… the things I’ve had to do,” he said slowly and quietly. “As for you, stop being so fucking selfish.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whether or not she wants to be with you is her choice,” Gray said, rounding upon him. “Not mine, not yours. Hers. If you want her to stop, tell her clearly. Stop with this tortured soul and selfless sacrifice bullshit. Your decision alleviates only your own guilt. It does fuck all to resolve the situation.”

“I don’t deserve her.”

“You’re goddamn right. But it’s her choice. And that won’t happen unless she has a reason to move forward. In this case, you making up your fucking mind.”

“What would you do were you in my place, Gray?” he asked, clenching his fists in frustration. “What would you do?”

Gray scoffed. “I wish I was. I wish she looked at me the way she looks at you.”

“If you say it’s too late, whatever you’ve done, aren’t you doing the same thing as me? Self sacrifice to alleviate your own guilt?”

With a shake of his head and a sigh, Gray trudged over to the rock and sat down tiredly beside Jellal.

“I can’t because she only has eyes for you,” he replied. “I love her, and I hate you for making her suffer, but I don’t wanna force myself into this mess until both she and I are sorted out.” He shook his head again, chuckling darkly. “And that ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.”

Never in his life did Gray ever think he’d be having this conversation, let alone any conversation, with Jellal Fernandes. For the longest time, the only regret he’d had was the fact that it hadn’t been him who got to punch the fuck outta the blue haired bastard at the Tower. The thought made him bristle.

“So what you’re saying is if Erza is willing to have you someday, you’d be willing too?”

“I dunno. I don’t write the future. I might be dead by the time that rolls around.”

“But?”

“But… that would be the best day of my life.”

Silence fell between them, and Gray let his thoughts wander. They invariably returned to the conversation that had just ended. Despite himself, he felt a strange sort of kinship with the man seated beside him, also deep in thought. They had common ground in that they both wanted the best for Erza, and that was at least something Gray could respect.

“I’m sorry, Gray,” Jellal said at length. “This mission messed you up badly. I didn’t think it’d mess you up the same way I am.”

“Nobody could’ve anticipated that. Not everything’s your fault, asshole. You’re not that important.” Gray looked down at his palm. “True, these hands are too unclean for her now, and we’re similar in thinking that. But there is a major difference between us.”

“What’s that?”

“I am not what I have done,” Gray said as he rose to his feet. “I am what I will do. And I will not let this hold me back. It’ll take me time to unfuck my head, but I’ll get there.”

Jellal said nothing. Gray looked back over his shoulder.

“I’m going back to work. I don’t ever want you here instead of her again.”

In the end, it didn’t matter what had happened in the past. The past existed to give one context, knowledge and anxiety. Nothing more, nothing less. Gray didn’t know what the future had in store for anyone. He wasn’t an optimist, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

1234567890

The mission was over. Avatar would not rear its head again. His road to recovery had only just begun.

The first thing was to get him off the drugs, and Gray himself had had a brilliant suggestion on how to do that.

Put me in a room with a week’s worth of provisions and nail the door in. Don’t open before a week has passed.

They’d done exactly that. Gray had slept through the first day. He only started hitting the wall at night.

“Anyone out there?” he asked hoarsely as he pounded on the door, room spinning. “Anyone?”

“Gray? Gray, I’m here, what is it?”

Erza. It was her. She was outside. She was good. She’d help him.

“Let me out. Please, let me out.”

“I… I can’t.”

“The fuck d’you mean, you can’t?” He pounded on the door, suddenly seething. “Am I in jail again? You assholes gonna tie me up and break my fingers again, I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”

“No, Gray, you aren’t in jail.” A long pause. “But you can’t leave yet.”

“The fuck you talkin’ about? I needta go, man. I need to.”

“Gray…”

“You don’t understand.” He hugged himself. The shakes were coming. “What’re you doin’ to me?”

“I’m trying to help you, Gray. Remember Avatar? They’re all gone. You saved a lot of lives. But you’re still in the hole.”

Gray shook his head and beat the door with his forehead. “I needta go now, man.”

“Where? There’s nowhere to go, but we can help you here.”

“What do you have? I need it.”

“No, not like that. I mean, really help you. Get you off this addiction and out of this life.”

He shrieked with laughter, a short sharp burst.

“You think you can save me? You think you’re the only one who’s ever tried?” He sat down on the floor and put his back against the door. “Fuck you. I can’t be saved. I don’t wanna be saved.”

“I think you do. Deep down, everybody does.”

“No, please. Just…  just let me go.”

“I know it’s going to be rough. A week in this room, it will probably feel like a year. I’m not going to lie to you about anything.”

Gray pulled his knees up and rocked back and forth. The room was doing the jig. If he didn’t move, he’d lose his balance and fall. He didn’t like falling. It hurt.

There was a long pause before the voice came again. “I’ll be sitting outside this door all week. I’m here for you, Gray.”

“Please, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. But you’ve got to want it. Deep down. You have to know that you are in the abyss and that you want to climb out.”

A sudden spike of rage coursed through him and he thumped the ground with your fist.

“Take your preaching and stick it up your ass, okay? You don’t know what it’s like! You don’t know… you don’t know a fucking thing.” Gray buried his face between his knees and covered his head with his hands. “I bathed thrice a day, soap, shampoo, all that. Unclean. Unclean. Gods, what have I done, what have I done…”

“You’re right,” came the voice after a while. Soft. Pained. “I don’t know. But I trust you, and I know this: whatever you’ve done, you can carry that weight through the withdrawal. Then you can share it with me, okay? It’ll be easier to carry.”

“No,” he moaned as the tears came, shaking his body.

“I will help you. But you have to gut it out and you’ve got to want to.”

“I’m telling you, nothing works! I can’t be saved!”

“Look, I know you lost somebody. I know it can drive you down into a hole. But think of Ur. Is this the end she would want for you?”

Gray said nothing.

“Of course it’s not,” the voice said. “It’s not what she would want.”

“Please,” he said. “I want to go now.”

“Gray, just tell me you want this to end. Give me the nod and we’ll get through it.”

“I don’t even know you!” he screamed.

“You’re right,” the voice said, remaining calm. “But I know there is something better than this for you. Tell me you want it. For Ur. For me.”

“I want to go.”

“There’s nowhere to go. This is it.”

“Fuck.”

“Stay here, Gray. Say you want to try.”

Gray leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes. He was tired, defeated.

“Come on,” Erza said. “For me. It’s time.”

It was Erza. Erza would be out there all week. He trusted Erza. Erza was good. She wouldn’t hurt him.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.”

1234567890

“Gray?” Her voice was gentle, but to him it still felt like nails on a chalkboard. “Gray, are you awake?”

He was, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Most days he didn’t even feel like getting out of bed. Food turned to shit in his mouth and he just didn’t see the point anymore.

Withdrawal had caused him to chew through his nails, rip his hair out and scratch and pound on the door till his hands bled, but he’d come out clean. That had been the easy part. What came after was what almost killed him.

It wasn’t so much the memories of what he’d seen and done that smashed his will, but all the memories of instances where he could have done something, but didn’t. Rationalising it did no good. The voice inside his head refused reason.

You could’ve saved that woman, but you wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You couldn’t have Erza, so was she a substitute? Were you just looking for a hole?

You could’ve helped all those boys and girls with their addiction had you called in the cavalry on day one. But you wanted to show Erza how good you were, right? Rub it in Jellal’s face? Didn’t matter how many lives you ruined in the process.

You will never have her. She despises you. She can’t even look at you. She knows what you did. They all do.

How do you live with yourself?

You deserve to die.

All day, every day, over and over. There was no way to tune it out, no way to tone down the volume. There was nothing. Nothing made sense. Nothing.

But he still got out of bed every day. Made himself eat. Shaved. Bathed. Went for a jog. Read books. Listened to a little music.

All because of her. All because he was tired of seeing her sad. But it was hard sometimes.

So when she repeated her question and added whether he wanted her to leave, he shook his head and tenderly put his hand over hers.

“Stay,” he said without opening his eyes. “I just need rest.”

Every day, she came without fail. Helped him should he need it. She came to keep him company. Cooked for him. Sometimes, she even read to him. Her voice was the one constant through it all he could lean on for support.

“Okay,” came her voice. “I’m right here.”

Jellal had been right. He had done it for her. There was no denying it. But…

Gray gave her hand a little squeeze. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“What do you mean? Done what?”

“I kept sane every week because I knew I had to call you and check-in. I focused on that. It centred me. Your voice… you have a really nice voice.”

“Gray, are you-”

“You gave me the strength to do everything I have ever done since I met you,” he told her flatly and opened his eyes. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at him. “Without you, I wouldn’t be half of what I am. You inspired me, had faith in me, trusted me, and all this gave me confidence. Told me I was worth something, you know? Still does.”

He reached up and stroked her cheek gently, caressing her hair.

“You’re one of those people I’ve always wanted to make proud,” he continued. “I can never repay all that you’ve done for me, Erza. Can’t even hope to begin. So let me just say that I love you. None of this is because of you. Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault.”

Hot tears fell on his nose and cheek, and he brushed them away from her face with his thumb.

“Please don’t be sad,” he whispered.

Erza responded by leaning down and pressing her lips to his forehead.

“You are a wonderful human being, Gray,” she whispered and kissed his cheek. “I hope you know that and understand how much you mean to me. I could not bear to lose you. For any reason. Least of all because of my own errors in judgement.”

As she sat up and dried her eyes with her sleeves, Gray sat himself up and swung his feet over the side of the bed.

I am not what I have done but what I will do.

That was what he had told Jellal. Now it was time to live up to it.

“Hey,” he said and she looked over. “I want to go out.”

“Really?” She looked both shocked and cautiously optimistic. “Where?”

“Anywhere. The walls are closing in on me. I just wanna go for a stroll. Maybe get some coffee.” He smiled. “Or cake. The sweetness might help me taste things again.”

Erza smiled back. “It might. I keep telling you to try cake, but you never listen.”

“Might as well,” Gray replied and stood up. He then held out his hand to her somewhat hesitantly and said, “Do you wanna come with me?”

“Of course,” she replied immediately and took his hand. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” he replied after some thought. “Exactly like a date. Maybe just what I need.”

He would get through this. He knew that for a fact. And he wouldn’t let it stop him from at least taking the first step.

Up yours, Fernandes.

[carryonmylovelies]

Heyyyyyyy my dude anyways can you write a fic that is literally just fluff and Simon spooning Baz? Cuz that's literally all I want in my life tbh (also you're lovely and amazing)

Hiiiiii my lovely anon!! Thank you so so much for being my first fic request, and I really, really hope you like this because I wrote it for you :D Let me know what you think of it! (I hope you don’t mind that I spiced it up a bit lol) I would also like to dedicate this to @bazypitchandsimonsnow because Theo is my best friend and she’s always there for me and this could not have been made without her. I love youuuu here on ao3)

Eyes On Me, Please

Baz

It’s been a long day. Two of my uni professors were late, arriving in a tired mess of coffee, ungraded papers, and the general mood of not wanting to be there, and one of them just didn’t fucking show up. I had to write a five page essay twice (I don’t want to talk about it), the students in my mathematics class wouldn’t shut up about communism, and the cafeteria didn’t have my salt and vinegar crisps.

I am very much ready to be home, in the flat I share with my best friend and my lovely, crazy hot boyfriend, and in said hot boyfriend’s arms, furiously making out with him. (I swear to Merlin, I should not be allowed to be in a relationship. Thoughts of the next time I can get Simon under me and in between the sheets of the queen-sized bed we share threaten to overwhelm every bloody rational thought I have throughout my day. I’m not going to lie; it’s a bit hard to focus on my professor explaining William of Tyre and the diplomacy of the Byzantine empire when all I can hear is the exact sound Simon makes when I bite the inside of his upper thigh.)

I am too goddamn thirsty.

I finally arrive at my door, exhausted, hungry, and a little turned on. I weakly hit my fist against the door. No answer. I knock again, more forceful this time, but I still don’t get a response.

“Fuckers!” I yell, digging for my keys in my bag and shifting my books to the other arm. 

I jam my key in the lock, wiggle it, and push the door open, letting it slam against the wall with a dull thud. That will totally leave a mark, but it feels good to do a little damage.

I kick off my shoes and leave my bag by the door, the flat sounding unnaturally quiet. I walk into our light, airy kitchen and notice that Bunce has buried herself in a book that’s larger than her head again, and it looks so old I think she has a bit of dust on her nose. I flick the side of her pastel-purple head as I walk by, and she doesn’t even look up as she flips me off. I smirk, and make my way to the our living room, which is stuffed with chairs and pillows and a large couch, all surrounding the television.

I find my boyfriend lounging, one elbow propped up on the top of the couch, his long legs and tail dangling off of the end, and his wings falling lazily around his shoulders. His white earbuds peek out from behind his curls, and he’s looking at his phone like he’s about to throw it at the wall. His fingers furiously tap at the screen.

I stand in front of him and put my hands on my hips because this situation is very deserving of my signature hands-on-hips look.

He continues to play his game, and I can make out the sounds of violence and fighting spilling from his earbuds. How mature.

“Snow.”

He doesn’t hear me.

“Snow.”

Still nothing.

“Snow, I’m leaving you. I’m leaving you for that cute barista at Starbucks.”

He is so engrossed in his game he probably doesn’t know what day it is let alone who’s right bloody in front of him, trying to engage him in conversation.

“Snow, you hear that? I’m leaving you for a fucking barista. No one can make a pumpkin mocha breve like Dave from Starbucks can.”

“We’re gonna have six children and name them all after you.”

“I would bake him sour cherry scones every morning.”

“Snow, I’m going to go walk down to the Starbucks right now and have sex with Dave the barista all over our favorite table in the corner.”

Bunce yells at me from the kitchen, “Basil, as much as I want this one-sided conversation to continue because it is fucking hilarious to listen to, he cannot hear you, so you better think of something else.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” I respond, and she peeks around the corner and gives me a very reassuring thumbs up.

He has not acknowledged my existence in the 3 minutes that I have been home, and 2 of those minutes I spent physically speaking to him, so this calls for something a little bit stronger. I leave my stupidly attractive boyfriend (emphasis on the stupid) with his unruly curls and blue eyes glued to his phone, alone on the couch as I walk determinedly into our room.

I slip off my shirt and trousers and pull on the pair of jeans that I know are Simon’s favorite (plus they make my arse look illegal) and one of his worn jumpers. It’s a bit big for me; he has broader shoulders and more of a stomach, but the length of it is about the same. He knows that I know how much he loves it when I wear his clothes, so getting him to notice me should be easy now. And yes, I am going to all this trouble to get my very own boyfriend to notice me, and it’s because I am extremely petty and over-dramatic and because I really fucking love it when he looks at me like he’s starving and I’m the last sour cherry scone in the world. Sue me.

I saunter out, ready for the final part of my plan, and I suddenly can’t help but enjoy the sight for just a moment. The sun is slowly fading from the living room, but that doesn’t stop it from catching on the ends of Simon’s bronze curls, dousing them in a burnt orange, and the moles and freckles on his face and neck are just begging for lips to press against them. His blue eyes glow with the light from his phone and I just can’t take it anymore.

I cross the room in two strides and throw myself into his lap, promptly ending whatever game he was playing.

I expect Simon to be mad, or at least annoyed, but to my delight Simon just laughs, throwing his phone and earbuds onto the carpet and kissing my cheek. He slides back into the corner of the couch and takes me with him, pulling me to sit in between his legs. His arms snake around my waist, his fingers gripping my sides possessively and his chest is a solid warmth against my back. I sigh, and let my head fall onto his shoulder. He kisses the top of my nose.

“Hello,” he says, and I drown in his smile.

“Hi,” I say back, and then I pinch his arm. Hard.

“Owww! That hurt,” Simon whines, glaring at me.

I pout, “Well, you shouldn’t have ignored me when I got home! I’ve had a very long day.”

“I was busy,” he says sulkily, pushing his nose into my hair.

“Oh yes, you were very busy … playing on your phone.”

“… I was about to reach my high score.”

“And I was tired and stressed from school! All I wanted was some bloody love and affection from my adoring boyfriend but I guess that’s too much to ask from a prat like you.”

He growls and tightens his hold on me. I inhale sharply at the sound, and shift in his lap, cursing Simon for having growls like that.

He pushes his face into my hair and his hot breath makes the back of my neck tingle. Then he raises his head sharply, and squeezes my waist.

“Hey, is this my shirt?”

“Yes.”

He groans and falls back into my hair, “I love it when you wear my stuff.”

“I know,” I say, smugly.

He bites my neck (who’s the real vampire in this relationship?) and then presses a kiss to the same spot.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to you when you got home. And I’m sorry you had a hard day,” he mumbles. “Wanna talk about it?”

I open my mouth to tell him about the stressors of my day but surprisingly I’m not really bothered by them anymore. Hatching a plan to get your boyfriend to notice you is a great way to de-stress, with the added bonus of your plan working and now you just get to relax while he spoons you.

His arms are tight and hot across my middle, and his chest is practically forcing heat into me. Everywhere he’s touching me I’m burning up. And I love it. He smells like scones and my expensive shampoo even though I tell him not to use it and to use his own fucking shampoo. His legs are flush against the outside of mine, and I unconsciously snuggle closer to him, turning my head so I can press my lips to one of the moles on his shoulder.

“No, I’m okay, now.”  

Penny

I watch them from the doorway of the kitchen, and I’m glad to see that they worked things out. They’re talking now, in low voices, sharing smiles and small laughs. Simon has draped himself all over Baz, and Baz looks like there is nowhere else in this world he would rather be. Although, they aren’t really in this world anymore; they’re both in a world all on their own.  

They make each other so happy. Anyone can see it. It’s in the way Simon’s tail winds itself around Baz’s legs whenever he’s close by. It’s in the way Baz’s eyes light up whenever Simon walks into a room. It’s in the way they slowly built each other back up after the worst time of our lives, and it’s in the way they continue to hold each other when one of them feels like falling and not getting back up. I truly, only wish the best for them.

With their soft voices floating in from the living room and the hum of the refrigerator in the back of my mind, it’s easy to slip back into my book.

The next time I look up I’m not sure how long I’ve been reading for, but I can tell that something is  … off. I set my book down on the counter and pop my head around the corner.

God dammit they’re at it again!

I swear the number of times I have caught them on that fucking couch doing what they are now two seconds away from doing is a number higher than any of us want to admit.

I clap my hands a few times, disrupting the quiet, and they slowly break apart. Simon looks a little sheepish, but Basil looks like he has no regrets, whatsoever.

“Basilton Pitch! Simon Snow! Now, I know this may blow your small, idiotic minds, but I need you to stay with me through this okay?” I ask, cheerily, with a bright smile plastered across my face.   

They both stare at me.

“You two, have this thing, called a ‘bedroom’. Spell it with me, b-e-d-r-o-o-m. Do you know what bedrooms are for? They are for where all of THAT,” I gesture frantically at their tangled bodies, “belongs. Not. On. The. Fucking. Couch. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Penny,” Simon sulks, and he starts to get up but Baz yanks him back down.

“No,” Baz says, looking at me with a challenge in his eyes, “She’s not going to do anything.”

“Oh, shit. I wouldn’t test me if I were you, Basil. I really wouldn’t.”

Baz shoots me a long, cool look before grabbing Simon, pinning him to the couch, and kissing Simon like it’s the last fucking thing he’ll ever do.

I scream, and storm into the bathroom. I snatch up the squirt bottle I use for my hair in the mornings, and stomp back out to the eager 20-year-olds who are practically fornicating on. My. Couch.

I walk right up to them and unleash hell. I squirt water on them furiously, screaming at them to use their own fucking bedroom. They both shriek and roar with laughter, so I spray them harder. They stumble/fall into their room, and I personally slam the door closed.

I yell at them, “Fuck you both!”

They don’t answer.

[bambyeol]

Unlocked (part 1)

pairing/s: park jihoon x oc genre : fluff, domestic characters: Park Jihoon, OC (Bae Riseul), Kang Daniel, Ong Seongwoo, Park Woojin, Lai Guanlin

I’m back with this second fic !  (≧▽≦)/  Pairing is the same, but I promise that I’ll expand the pairings as time goes  . I’m still swamped with school works, and it’s EXAM SEASON   (ಥ﹏ಥ) (and I really shouldn’t be writing honestly but lol) , but once it’s Christmas break, I’ll be fully devoting my break to writing wanna one imagines, so please bear with me for a while  (｡•́︿•̀｡) 

disclaimer: pictures used for the moodboard aren’t mine // I’m not the best fluff writer (I live and breath angst) , hopefully this fic meets your fluff standards  __φ(．．) .... 

Lastly, Unlocked will be a TWO PART fic so I hope you support this baby. 

masterlist for other fanfics  

prompt: your apartment is next to mine and I can hear you and your partner dancing and singing and the bed moving and you two laughing and talking in hushed tones and it won’t let me sleep so I bitch about it to you 24/7 and one day it stops. One day turns to one week and then months, and I haven’t seen you smile in forever.. please let me in, I’ve been knocking for ten minutes now. (credit goes to: au prompts list)

song inspiration: 갖고 싶어 (I Wanna Have) by Wanna One

UNLOCKED FINAL

Park Jihoon probably remembers her as the snarky, bitchy neighbor considering that all their communications included her trying to cut his throat with threats, but to Bae Riseul’s defense, Park Jihoon is not exactly the best neighbor.

He is pretty rude  . Scratch that, more like hella rude.

Because who even sings karaoke at 1 a.m with the music blaring through the walls and though she appreciates his melodic low voice, it doesn’t make up for his failure in belting (which he unfailingly does every time he tries karaoke), and then Jihoon and his girlfriend’s laughter would reverberate in the apartment, drowning in the mishaps and blunder.

Because who even decides to dance their asses off at 10 p.m. and incorporate a lot of feet movements. The vibration generated by their stomping, rustling and sweeping flowed through her apartment.

She sighed when she heard the remarkable shrill of their voice reaching the depths of her apartment again. She is used to this. Riseul even developed her sense of observation through the sounds and movement. This time, the sound that entered her apartment went by Pew pew !

Riseul sees the wall protrude a little – the nerf bullet grazing it. Enough is enough. She headed to the apartment next door.

“Mr. Park,” she breathes viciously when the tall figure of Jihoon emerged. He is holding a nerf gun and strapped on his eyes were protective glasses. “I’ve already told you.. for a millionth time that there is a right time for everything and playing nerf gun at this godly hour is not where RIGHT belongs!”

“Jihoonie !” a sweet, high-pitched voice perks, and Jihoon and shifts a little to the right. Everything blurred because there was a sudden sensation of rubber against her forehead. “Oh my,” eyes bugging out and mouth wide with shock.

Riseul closes her eyes tightly to contain the annoyance from spilling further and reopens it only to watch Jihoon stifle his laughter.

“Is there something funny?” Riseul’s eyes narrows down to Jihoon who immediately straightens up like he was being scolded by his boss. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry about our noise,” but she could still see his lips quivering and one end tugging upward.

“Look, I get it. This is a pretty cheap apartment, and I don’t want and I never will file a complaint to the landlord because that’s just going to make this more complicated, so let’s all be adults and try to settle this by ourselves,”  Riseul crosses her arms, and looks at him straight in the eye before she turns back and slams the door.

The noise from Jihoon’s apartment fades away, proceeding to the bathroom for a facial but is greeted by a large red dot on her forehead. “PARK JIHOON !” Riseul cries out, rage unmodulated, and she hears from across the other room, “We’re sorry !!”

She forgives them though when they sent some baked pastries, but maybe it was also a disclaimer that they would return to their usual activities because not less than a week since that incident, Riseul hears the moving of furniture, and the uncontrollable giggling and hushed tones (Jihoon sucked at it because she still heard him saying, “Let’s make some fort with the bed.”) .

So for the next hour, she tolerated the wood scratching, toe stubs, and bickering on how to build the fort.

She likes them – despite their antics and her frequent episodes of raging into their apartment. Bae Riseul has a soft spot for them because she was the witness of their relationship, so she was always quick to forgive. Maybe they knew about it, so they keep on looping back into their childishness. Not that it matters.

They are good people who looks out for her in their own way. One time, Jihoon’s girlfriend barraged the doorbell to check Riseul’s health when she was down with a bad case of flu. Afterwards, she prepared a bowl of porridge and even prepared the medicine because she didn’t have any energy to cook nor even move from her bed.

But one day, all the noises dissolved from Park Jihoon’s apartment, and Riseul was given a proper night of rest. There were some rattling from time to time but Riseul knew that it was just clanking of metal. Park Jihoon was just cooking. There weren’t any wasted movements, no high-pitched squeal and laughter. She shrugged it off at first, and enjoyed the freedom from the disturbance, but one day turned to one week. A week turned to month, or months, and Riseul didn’t know what excuse to come up with to brush away her worries.  

So, without thinking of a plan, she heads out to Jihoon’s apartment, her knocking continuous (for about 10 minutes now).. Riseul stood there freezing, and knocking and mentally debating whether to head back to her apartment, but she has already invested 10 minutes of her time and she was too prideful to call this a failed attempt.

Park Jihoon opens the door, and she breathes with relief. He scrutinizes her from head to toe before turning back to her face, “Is there any problem?” he asks with a polite smile - a smile Riseul is not accustomed with. Gone was the smile that annoyed Riseul, but puzzlingly, she misses the goofy grin that withstood whatever dose of bitchiness she threw at him. “Oh, uhm,” realizing that she didn’t plan for this after all. Riseul bites her lip with reluctance, “Would you mind having dinner with me?”

She mentally slaps herself because it was the poorest excuse she could even muster, and who would even agree to suddenly act all chummy and have dinner with the neighbor who used to tear him down?  But his stare means that he is considering it, and he looks back at his own kitchen where Riseul sees a glimpse of plates dumped in the washer, unattended for a few days now (he was tidy when she was still there..) and he contemplates for a few seconds as if he was seeing someone who wasn’t there and asking for her permission.

Park Jihoon turns back, eyes a little glazed with same fake polite smile.

“Sure, I’d love some company,”

The kimchi stew boiled, and Jihoon turns off the fire while Riseul chopped the onions, minced the garlic, sliced the vegetables and marinated the meat in a way that would put professional cooks to shame. She didn’t know what he liked, and he wasn’t disclosing anything about him when she asked what he wanted for dinner.

“Anything’s fine,” he tells her, so she went with the basics – kimchi stew , chicken and bibimbap.

It is the first time she entered his apartment, but the design of his room that is akin to hers made her feel less nervous. He excuses himself, and begins decluttering the kitchen from the unwashed dishes and pointed towards the refrigerator to just get whatever she needed. She ties her hair and goes to work.

He sets up the table in silence, and sits, staring at her back while she hummed and twirled the chopsticks to the beat (Riseul forgot that she wasn’t in her apartment) . “Do you need some help?” She shakes her head before bringing the bowl along with the chicken and bibimbap.

Riseul watched Jihoon with expectant eyes because she was aware of her cooking prowess. He leans, grabs a morsel of every dish. Nervousness seeps in when she realized that this is the first time she ever cooked for another person.

And why are they not even weirded out by the turn of events?

He takes a small bite, chews for a while before his eyes lightened up. “This is good,” he affirms, fishing out more food from the serving bowls. Riseul fist pumps under the table.

“You’re not going to eat?” His eyebrows creasing with concern. Riseul raises her hands defensively. “Oh. I will eat now. Don’t worry about me,” hastily and stiffly picking up food leading to losing grip on some food. Jihoon laughs softly, and covers his mouth upon realizing.

“I’m sorry,” he tried to hide his growing smile. “It’s just. I can’t take this heavy atmosphere any more like we’re going to battle over dinner,” he places his chopsticks back on the table and let out a laugh like the one he makes whenever he was with her.

She blushes deeply when Jihoon points out her stiffness, but enjoyed how he was reverting to his old self. “Mr. Park, no elbows on the table,” she reprimands as a joke which he understood when he immediately took it off and placed his hands in a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

They talked over the dinner and she realized that Park Jihoon is more mature despite his seeming childishness. Soon, dinner is over, and she helped clean before leading herself out of his apartment.

“Ms. Bae?” Jihoon calls out, his movements wavering, and voice marked with reluctance. She turns, her hand still on the doorknob.

“Would you mind if you continued having dinner with me?”

Riseul blinks a couple of times. Jihoon looks at her expectantly, and maybe she can sense his loneliness that built up over the past months. She shakes her head with a kind smile. “I don’t mind. Then, I’ll see you again tomorrow, Mr. Park,”

What started as one day of having dinner turned to one week, then month and finally to months. They began having rotations on the cooking, and apartment even if there really wasn’t that much difference in their apartments.

“No. That’s not how you cook it,” pushing Jihoon away from the sizzling cauldron, and she looks to her side, “Oh my God! Don’t put that!” but she is too late, and fire lit up from the pan. Riseul rushes for the baking soda and pours it all over the burning pan.

“Jihoon-ssi” She breathes calmly but menacingly. Jihoon gulps nervously, adam’s apple bobbing, and a single thread of sweat trickles down from his forehead. “What did I say again yesterday?” Riseul smiles as she raises the burnt pan.

“That I should not copy your techniques, ma’am,” Jihoon stands straight, hands tucked behind. Riseul places the pan back to the stove, “It’s okay,” and Riseul breaks into laughter. “You really thought I’d get angry ?” smacking Jihoon’s tense shoulders.

“Oh please, you’re always angry,” Jihoon retorts and Riseul feigns fake anger. “Now, I’m angry.” Jihoon reverts to his worried phase, forehead slowly showing its crease. “Anddddd. I got you, again.”

Jihoon slumps to the floor, and looks at her with shimmering eyes and pouting lips. “Please stop confusing me.” She sticks out her tongue, trying to remain unaffected with his cutesy act. For the past few months, they discovered so much about each other, and now there is growing affection inside her.  

She might possibly have a crush on Park Jihoon….   How else could she explain why she finds his unbearable personality as endearing?

Park Jihoon is a Gemini because one second he’s the most inspiring, wise and mature man she has ever known, and then the next, he would point his prized nerf gun to Riseul, blackmailing her to surrender her chips in the pantry. “Riseul-ssi . You remember how red your forehead was for 3 days when the nerf bullet hit you in the forehead, right?” Riseul would glance at him before admitting her defeat by giving him the key to the chips cabinet.

Park Jihoon is a huge softie. He works at the local veterinary as assistant veterinarian even though he is the most sensitive when it came to animals. One night, Jihoon knocked at her apartment pleading that they watch a documentary about hedgehogs. Midway through the documentary, he was bawling his eyes out.

“I’m sorry, they’re just. One hedgehog died awhile ago and I just remembered Marty.” Riseul looked at him with questioning eyes. “So… You disturbed my precious day-off to bear with this 2 hour documentary just so you could open up about Marty?”

She kicked him out of her apartment, but to make up for it, she sent him cute pictures of animals to cheer him up.

Why is she so tolerating towards him again ?

“You’re grinning on your phone,” Daniel raises his eyebrows when he caught Jihoon. “And I bet you’re not realizing it.” Jihoon rotates his chair and places the phone facedown. “What were you saying?” Seongwoo peeks from the doorway, eyes growing larger with fascination. “I told you so!”  Seongwoo shouts to Daniel. Jihoon looks at them, tilting his head unable to understand what the two have betted on this time. Daniel leaves the room to tend to the store, eyes crinkling, too amused. Jihoon rolls his eyes, and scrolls through his phone again.

“Chicken and beer?” Riseul texted. “Your treat? (✧ω✧)”   “What? No. (‡▼益▼)” “Who poured one whole pack of chili pepper again to the dinner and messed with my stomach as a prank? (」°ロ°)」” “Ok. Fine, wink boy. My treat later, but you’ll still be coming home crying and drunk,” “At least my wallet wouldn’t be empty and crying, [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲̅)̲̅$̲̅] ”

The bell attached on the front door jiggled and Jihoon leaves the room next to the store to attend to the new customer. Upon arriving, he finds Seongwoo silent and Daniel tapping the shoulder of the black-haired man, leading him out of the store. Jihoon raises his eyebrow, and gets a better view of the guest.

“Jihoon-ah,” she smiles softly. “May I have some of your time?” Jihoon finds himself nodding.

Riseul enters the restaurant and reserves for the table near the cashier. Jihoon and Riseul are frequent customers of the restaurant just 5 minutes away from the train station that boasts of delicious braised ribs, chicken feet and blood sausage, but more than that, their liquor is cheap, and for Jihoon and Riseul who agreed to hold their Friday dinner as a liquor day, the restaurant was perfect.

“Gonna order now. Hurry up, I’m hungry (」°ロ°)」” “Coming soon, mad dragon 🐲 “ “Childish piglet ヽ( ˋ(00)´ )ノ” “How dare you !  Σ(□_□) (°ㅂ°╬)ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ Fite me.”

She catches herself grinning, and mentally scolds herself for it. Park Jihoon’s childishness doesn’t equate to affection. It is natural for him to act that way to everyone (though she isn’t exactly sure of that because she hasn’t seen him interact with others apart from her…) …

It has been an hour since he texted her, and Riseul tapped the table impatiently. The table has already been laden with the food, and hungry is an understatement. She is famished. She is about to text Jihoon another text when she notices him breezing in the entrance.

She waves to him, and motions him to walk faster, and he smiles back and mouths off, “I’m sorry, I’m late.” Riseul’s stomach does a double flip. All her immunity to Park Jihoon has been chipped off.

“Hard day at work?” she rests her head on top of her knuckles standing on the table.  

He pauses for a moment and scratches his neck “Got sidetracked a bit.”  He pulls a chair in front of her and sits. “Let’s eat now?”

Riseul sips on the 6th bottle of soju, and notices Jihoon wobbling, eyes fluttering messily in what seems to be an attempt to keep his consciousness. She sets down the bottle deciding that it was time to go back before he even starts to become a sobbing mess (which is Riseul’s frequent predicament when she drinks with Jihoon)

“Let’s go home?” she bends her knees as she talked with Jihoon like that of an adult talking to a child. Jihoon stretches his arms wide, and shakes his head, eyes closed.

“Carry me?” he pleads, and Riseul wanted to spit the soju she just drank because of how ridiculous the situation is.

“I can’t do that. I’ll hold your arm instead,” she tries to speak with an understanding tone. Jihoon pouts but accepts her suggestion. They walk out of the restaurant and begin the long trek towards the apartment.

“Riiiiseeeulll – sssii,” Jihoon stops, and turns to her while tilting his head as if he was in deep thought. “Whyyyy are youu so uptight?” he peers, pointing accusingly as he slurred.

She shakes her head, used to the situation she found herself in. Park Jihoon is an annoying drunk because he always makes fun of her, of her voice, her attitude, her inability to become intoxicated. Everything in general. She knows, Jihoon means no harm with his words, so she tolerates it every time.

“You’re drunk, Jihoon-ssi.”

Jihoon breaks free from Riseul’s hold, and walks a few steps back laughing as he falls to the ground. “Seeeee. Youu are uptighttt. Iff you weerren’t, thenn youu’d be calling meee Jihoon-ahh or Jihooniee.”

“Heyyyy, callll my nameee… Jihoooniieee” he tugs her clothes when she approaches him, but she steels herself to not fall further.

“I don’t see why I should,” but of course that’s a lie. She wants to call him like that- filled with affection, but one-sided emotions aren’t ideal and she’ll just hurt herself in the process.

“Youu like me though,” he pouts and her heart thunderously beats. “I’mmm perfecttt afterrr all!” he shouts his proclamation. Two, Park Jihoon is a narcissistic drunk. He laughs, but tears were forming on his eyes. It is starting. The most annoying phase of Jihoon’s intoxication.

“Why are you so uptight?” he sobs. “And you’re always angry,” he hiccups. “Call mee Jihooonieee already so I can call you Riseullll,” he wails like a petulant child.

Between controlling the heat that spread across her cheeks and managing Jihoon’s drunken stupor, Riseul didn’t know what weighed more because all the butterflies in her stomach were flying and her face as red as Jihoon’s flush from the alcohol.

She tries to make him stand but he doesn’t stop his tantrum. “Call me Jihoonie.” He looks at her straight in the eyes.

How can a drunk man look so ? ? ?

“Jihoonie,” she breathes out and she was afraid that maybe Jihoon could hear the beating of her heart, but Jihoon smiles and inches closer. She stays there frozen. “Risseuulll.” He lets out and he was about to reach for her face.

.

.

.

“I… think I’mmm gonna throw up..” making his hand retreat and cover his mouth instead. Riseul didn’t know if what she felt was relieved or regret.

They were in front of Jihoon’s apartment and he scrummaged to find his apartment keys inside his bag. When he finally finds it, he notices two dangling keys, and he looks at Riseul, untangling the other key.

“Oppeen your hands,” he instructs her, and Riseul follows unaware of what he was going to give her. She feels the coldness from the metal, and furrows her eyebrow confused.

She thought that maybe Jihoon was asking her to open his apartment for him, but when she tries to unlock the door using the key, he stamps the floor. “No! ! ! The keyyy. Keep itt,”

She stands dumbfounded. “Why should I?”

“Soo.. So you could just go inside mine?” he grins and laughs softly, running his hand across his hair.

“My apartment is literally next to yours. Keep it. You need this more than me,”

“I already have one,” he waves his key in front of her as-a-matter-of-fact. “Theree’s no use to have two keyssss for one person, youu knowww.” He pokes her cheeks playfully. “Sooo. Keep it, and good night. Riseeul-ssi,” and he pecks her cheeks, unlocks his door and closes it.

Meanwhile, Riseul stood there – still registering everything that happened, appreciating the coldness coming from the key because everything was burning.

The next day, she stood in front of his apartment door. There are bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Park Jihoon was drunk, then. She thought to herself as she clutched the key hardly, its shape being imprinted into her palm. She needs to return the key, but when Park Jihoon emerged from the hallway carrying a few paper bags because he went to the market and smiled like he didn’t do anything that threw her off, all her courage of returning the key vanished.

Slowly, she slipped the key into the pocket of her coat.

“What are you standing there for? Let’s go in,” and he unlocks the apartment.

She remembered the fourth thing that makes Park Jihoon an annoying drunk.

Park Jihoon forgets all the shit he pulls.

And that’s a cut there ( I really should be learning how to write shorter fics because this is a whole lot draining that I first thought it would be but I’m happy writing this (☆_@)  ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ ). I’ll be posting the final part tomorrow or on a Sunday  ^O^ .  Thank you for reading and I’ll be very happy to talk with you  ヾ(・ω・)メ(・ω・)ノ

update:So that you wouldn’t scroll back up.. Here’s the link for the Final part 

Unlocked Final

masterlist for other fanfics

[one-deranged-son]

So I Keep Biting My Tongue

It wasn’t always like this. 

His life, he means. 

It’s usually more... How can he say this? Usually, it’s far more gruesome than this. There was usually more blood on his hand that wasn’t even his. His nails and fingertips were all covered in pitch-black ashes, his entire body smells like kerosene and reeks of sweat. 

Now, though? Isaiah Monsoon looks down to the ground beneath his feet. The grass tickles his toes, and when his gaze rakes over the endless carpet of green, sometimes, he will find a speck of yellow and white coming from the dancing flowers. Now, this is something he rarely sees in New York. You know, this… all of this serene grass and woods and… Yeah. It was always buildings taller than his will to live; smelly, dark, and absolutely shitty B&B with even shittier TV channels. It was always cold, bland, and monotonous abandoned factories that he slept in whenever he’s far from his even shittier home.

Yeah, it was never this kind of scene before. It was never like this. 

“Do you like it here?” 

Isaiah jolts in surprise when a voice calls him out. When he tears his eyes away from the swaying buds and looks at the source, a man is staring at him with a cane in his hand. His entire clothes are white, white like how you perceive snow in the middle of January, white like spoilt milk in a fridge that no longer works. 

So his name is Arya, that’s what Isaiah remembers about him. About how he ends up in an entirely new world far away from the hectic atmosphere of New York with this strange man, he doesn’t remember. All he remembers is Arya. Arya with his cane. Arya with his hand on his shoulder. Arya with his fingers in his scalp and how he told him to look to the ground beneath his feet, the grass tickled his toes, his lips inches away from his ears when he said, “Stop giving all the attention to the likes above.” His voice was warm, just like his hand on his back, just like his breath in his ears, “and see the place of where you were birthed and will return.” 

Isaiah Monsoon stares back at the still waiting man. He knows he should answer him with something, but no words come out of his tongue-tied mouth. 

“Have you been adjusting well, my child?” the voi—Arya, right, he has a name. Arya says again. How he gets so close to him without any sound or any eyes helping him is a question he doesn’t know the answer to, but Isaiah decides to let it go because there’s a bigger question here that he needs to answer.

So, does he like this place? 

“I... I’m managing,” he says, wary and distant.

Because the truth is, he doesn’t know. It’s a strange new world for him. Strange new routine, strange new comfort. He’s staring at the same sky, standing on top of the same soil, feeling the same gust of wind against his very skin... but there’s just a weird feeling that he can’t simply shake. 

And he doesn’t know about it, actually. Maybe it’s in his head. Maybe it’s the fact that the people in this place don’t eat a single piece of meat. He really doesn’t know. 

“It is alright,” Arya says, and then he sits next to him. The grass tickles their toes, and the wind was kind enough to accompany them from the looming silence ready to swallow them whole.

“If this is anywhere near comforting, just know that when I first moved here, I took a whole year to finally get accustomed by... all of this.” 

Arya chuckles, his voice is low and warm just like the sun that kisses his skin in all the right places. And even Isaiah finds himself smiling at the simple yet so comforting commentaries. It’s a strange new world for him, yeah. It’s new. The sight, the routine... everything. Everything’s new to him. 

“Strange, is it? Everything’s new for you.” 

Spot on. 

“But it’s alright. Eventually, you’d get accustomed to it.” 

Isaiah’s eyes flicker to the man. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Arya staring at the endless carpet of grass. To the crimson horizon in the far, his eyes are glued still. If he can still see anything, then Isaiah doesn’t know. But maybe he can feel the same gust of wind and the same ticklish sensation on his toes… and that fact alone is comforting in a way he couldn’t understand.

“But for that to happen, you must leave everything behind.” 

He knows that Arya is blind. Not to an extent of knowing if he could differentiate between light and dark, but he knows the man is blind. If he can still see anything, then Isaiah doesn’t know, but if you tell him whether the stare which comes from the pair of two milky eyes isn’t anywhere near intense, then Isaiah won’t ever agree with you. 

Because even now, when he reaches to the back of his pants, his movement slow and steady, Arya’s gaze is intense. Burns in one side of his body like it was made for that, burns like a knowing parent that caught his first-born kid smoking weed in their room. 

“You won’t need that anymore.” 

Isaiah looks at his hand, to the rosary as the one his late dad used to hold. The beads are made of tinted glass, the crucifix hanging from it is heavier than what he used to think it would be. It’s the same rosary as the one John Monsoon used to clutch so tightly in his chest during the night. When everyone except for the two of them is asleep, and Isaiah has to stare into the bland and boring wall as John Monsoon’s cries rang through the room. It’s the same rosary as the one John Monsoon used to clutch so tightly in his hand before a crime. When the fire roared and twirled in the background, the beads glinted by the blazing embers. 

So maybe, maybe he has grown a sentiment over this thing, despite all the things he went through. It’s something familiar in this strange new world. Something old and tedious that reminds him of all the past he used to have. Something sinister yet so comforting in a world he doesn’t know. Isaiah holds the bead and sees the way the scarlet clouds accentuate the silver-like crucifix and thinks, no, I need it. But when he looks at Arya, the man is holding his hand out and his smile is warm and soothing and it makes him think about it again because, yes, this is a strange new world, but this world is everything he ever dreamt of.

Isaiah looks at the beads again, and with a shaky inhale of breath, he hands the rosary as the one his father used to hold to the strange man in a strange new world he’s strangely living in. 

“Good boy.” 

Isaiah Monsoon sees as the rosary bids their last goodbye to him. The black beads disappearing into the pocket of someone else’s coat. Arya smiles again, and his hold on his hand is warmer than the touch of a glass crucifix which hangs between his nimble fingers on the darkest night.

And in those waking hours, when the grass tickles his toes and the scarlet clouds look at them with a knowing smirk, a new door opens inside his chest. A flower blooms. The butterflies are flying.

A new door is opening.

One evening, Arya took his hand and asked him on a stroll. He said, “Let me show you my world,” and Isaiah, with his tongue twisted inside his mouth, his palm sweating, and eyes darting all over the place, agreed without saying a word.

There are 108 people in this place, not including Arya as their leader. Well, maybe leader isn’t the right term. Arya called himself the father figure of these poor people. All of them live in three communal houses made from the timber they gather alone. All of them eat from the crops they raise together as one big, loving family. All of them see Arya as if he could part the red sea in half.

Strange, he knows.

Isaiah sleeps on the bed in one of the houses and his bed feels like marshmallow, so soft that he’s afraid it will swallow him if he actually sleeps. So for the first four days, he refuses to actually sleep and instead stares right into the high ceiling of the wooden house. For the next four days, he sleeps with his back standing straight against the wall, and when people start to mention it, he waits for one hour after they sleep, and wakes one hour early before anyone else sees him in his weird, absurd sleeping position. If anyone ever mentions it to him, he will stay quiet or pretend that he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. His tongue will be trapped between his teeth, and he can’t help biting his tongue, so he keeps biting his tongue until he can feel the coppery taste in his lips again.

“Have you been sleeping well?” asks Monica Collins, one of the settlers in the community. And when Isaiah just laughs and nods, she smiles and continues to chop on the vegetable in her hand.

So maybe she already knows that the answer is a solid no. The dark bags under his eyes aren’t fooling anyone, after all. Isaiah had always been and will always be sleep-deprived. This isn’t something new for him, but with all these strange, new people around?

He sighs and looks at the potato in front of him. They told him that today is a soup day. A soup without a single chunk of meat, confusingly so. But he is not a dick and Isaiah isn’t going to complain about it. At least, not in front of the people who tried their best into making him feel included by politely asking him to do simple tasks and asking him how he’s handling everything here. Still, it’s a strange new world for him. A strange new world whe⸺“Ouch!”

“Isaiah what—oh my God!”

Monica Collins’ eyes shot open when she looked at him. The knife on her hand drops to the ground as she covers her mouth in terror.

“Monica? Is there so—Oh!”

All heads are turned at him, their eyes wide with horror and shock. Pale and horrid, that’s how he thinks their faces looked like. Isaiah Monsoon takes a step back until his back hits the short wooden table behind him, and when he realizes there’s nowhere to hide from the accusing eyes, his body goes completely still.

“You’re bleeding!” says a woman not far away from where he’s frozen still. He looks at his hand and thinks, it’s just a small cut on his finger because of the knife. The blood oozes out at a slow, languid pace. Nothing new than he had seen before.

“It’s just a small c—”

“It’s a sin!”

“Huh?”

“Bleeding! It’s a SIN!”

Isaiah frowns at his own wounds, but when he brings his face up to see the fear-stricken face on their faces, he feels his own heartbeat stops immediately. It’s a sin! And now someone is crying in the corner, their wails pierce through the room like a bullet he used to shoot. It’s a sin! And now someone is screaming wildly as if they have never known any pain in their entire life. It’s a SIN! And now someone had their hands clutched close to their chest, from their lips come intangible prayers that he has never heard before. It’s a SIN! And now every eyes are on him and his bleeding fingers and his guilty face and his sinful, SINFUL existence.

“I-Isaiah…” and Isaiah turns his head so quickly, he thinks he’s going to snap his neck in half. Monica Collins slowly extends her hands to him. Amidst the erupting chaos, her eyes are frantic and the lines between her eyebrows are furrowed so deep, deeper than the frown in his own face. “I hope you’re forgiven.”

Isaiah smacks the hand out of his way and runs as quickly as he could. Let his own feet take him away to a place he doesn’t even know. Anywhere! Anywhere than the condemned place. Anywhere! Anywhere from the fear-stricken eyes and the accusing gaze they gave him. With every step he takes, he feels his own feet getting stabbed by an unfamiliar sensation and his lungs are burning, his eyes hurt, he bites his tongue so hard and now he could taste the goddamn coppery taste inside his own fucking mouth and it’s fucking awful and now the fucking wound on his fingers feels bigger than it actually is and he’s running and he’s RUNNING and RUNNING and RUNNING—

Isaiah drops himself on the ground. Next to him is a crooked tree with woven-like roots and in front of him is a blood-colored lake. The dark hue of red reminds him of his own blood that almost covers his entire palm from the continuous clench of fist and the adrenaline coursing inside his vein. His breath is ragged and heavy in every air he takes, his own lips still tasted like copper and awful metal and, and—

“What’s wrong, my child?”

Isaiah jolts in surprise when a voice calls him out. When he tears his eyes away from his reflection in the blood-like lake, a man is staring at him with a cane in his hand. His entire clothes are white, white like how you perceive snow in the middle of January, white like a pair of two milky eyes that look at him in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend.

Isaiah looks at the blood in his hand and thinks, how ironic it is, that in this strange new world, the only thing that reminds him of his past life is something so morbid, it’s considered a sin.

Sin, yes. Sin.

“Um, nothing,” Isaiah lies, and when the cane makes a rustling noise against the grass, he feels himself, yet again, frozen still. In front of him, his reflection stares back at him with the word GUILTY stamped on his forehead, and next to it, a pair of two milky eyes stare right into his soul like it’s trying to rip him open. Like it’s trying to figure out what his erratic brain is thinking about.

Isaiah gulps.

“Do you not trust me, my child?”

Isaiah looks at the man again, his own eyes are wide open similar to his gaping mouth. Arya isn’t looking directly at him, he’s looking at his own reflection in the crimson lake. There’s a frown on his face; his bottom lips are slightly jutted and there is a sigh coming from it. Deep down, Isaiah feels his own heartbeat thumping furiously against his ribcage. The fear sits on him like a pillow over his mouth and nose, like there is enough air that gets by it, but it's crippling all the same.

“That’s… That’s not what I—”

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

It’s not like that, Isaiah wants to scream on top of his lungs. It’s not like that, but his words are cut off right before he could even say anything. He looks down at his stained shirt and palm, where the blood has slowly yet so surely dry. Now his tongue’s trapped between his teeth, and he can’t help biting his tongue, so he keeps biting his tongue until he can feel the coppery taste in his lips again.

Those two milky eyes found their way to his guilty, dejected face. And once again, the fear found him. It speaks to him in a cackling voice and tells his leg to go weak, tells his entire stomach to lurch and his heart to pound so hard, it aches so badly. Isaiah shuts his eyes and expects the cane to come into him, whether it was his face or his rib or any part of him, he’s ready for that.

What he isn’t ready for, is the gentle touch in his hand, in the hand with a stained palm, where the blood is still oozing at the utmost sluggish pace. Arya’s hand is slightly bigger than his, far more calloused despite all the guns and knives he had used before to split his own skin open. It’s warm and tame and it makes his chest tender. When Arya brings his hand to his lips, it feels as if the air in his lungs is sucked out of its place. There’s an undeniable heat creeping to his face, and when the soft kisses turn into something far more intimate, Isaiah bites his tongue again. He can’t help biting his tongue, so he keeps biting his tongue again and again and again until he can feel the coppery taste in his lips again.

“What is it, my child?”

“I’m… bleeding.”

“Where else?”

Later at night, he doesn‘t sleep so well.

Isaiah wakes up for the second time in the night.

The first time he wakes up, it’s because he dreams about something, and he has to force his eyes to open before his scream wakes everyone in the room. The second time he wakes up, it’s when he hears a rustling sound that’s actually low enough to be shrugged off, but it still manages to raise the alarm inside his head. So here he is, with his face covered by the thin layer of blanket, his heartbeat rising as the suspense creeps inside his entire bones, pretending to be asleep while maintaining his breath that’s coming out in short, ragged pants.

Isaiah has to lay still for at least thirty minutes before he dares to make another move. When he turns his head around, the bed beside him is empty. And in that short moment, he thinks about the possibility that could happen in a span of thirty minutes. Who was the person that slept next to him? For that question, he doesn’t know. What is the person doing past the curfew? For that question, too, he leaves it hanging in the back of his head.

The floor is cold when he finally stands up from his bed. At one point, his rational side tells him that this could be a bad idea. After all, he’s the new guy here. It’s already hard for him to blend with this strange new community after the last incident, and if they found out that he’s breaking yet another of their sacred rules, what else will happen?

But Isaiah Monsoon hasn’t been sane, shit. He hasn’t been sane for the last three weeks of his life after he steps into this strange new world and not even the last remaining crumbs of his sanity could pull him back to pretend that things in this world are perfectly normal.

The once closed door makes a soft creaking sound when he opens it, and soon, the night sky is greeting him with a judging eye but he still doesn’t give a fuck. He looks at the three communal houses and sees no light coming from the inside. He looks around and nothing seems to be out of place, nothing… nothing except for one.

Arya has his own place, figures. He’s like the father of this small 108 people worth community and everyone looks at him like he could turn water into wine. His house is centered a bit far from the communal living space but Isaiah could see the lights coming from the inside, but just before he could figure out what’s happening, the remaining source of light disappears and everything turns into black again.

At one point, his rational side tells him to back off. When was the last time his curiosity actually revived the dead cat inside of him? Never. But not even the last remaining crumbs of his sanity could pull him back to the warm embrace of his marshmallow-like bed. He takes one step forward and now the wind is telling him to back away, but he shrugs it off. He takes another step forward and now the leering trees are shouting STOP into his ears, but he shrugs it off. He takes another step forward, and the moon stares at him right in the eyes, the glowing silver reminds him of a pair of two milky white eyes that stare right into his soul like it’s trying to rip him open.

Isaiah stands still in front of the closed door of the father’s house. It’s shut tight, covering every prying eye from discovering whatever truth lies behind the wooden door. And he thinks it’s tempting, to knock, he means, but Isaiah knows better than to make himself an easy target. So instead he stands still on the porch, and to the windows that are covered by dark blinds, he slowly makes his way.

“Arya.”

They said that shock is that feeling of pause where your brain struggles to make a new emotion; one frenzy state where everything is happening and so does nothing at the same time. Isaiah can’t even make a single movement when the sound reverberates inside his eardrum because that—that was new. That wasn’t Arya’s—

“What do you want, my child?”

They said that shock is that feeling of pause where your brain struggles to make a new emotion; one frenzy state where everything is happening and so is nothing at the same time. With trembling steps, he presses his face to the window where the blinds cover everything and the darkness drowns whatever truth lies behind the sealed tight door. It was breathy, the voice, short, ragged pants that reminded him of his own breathing whenever he woke up in the night. When his back was sweating, and the prayers were slipping past his lips like vomit. It was breathy, the voice, but the cries he heard wasn’t anywhere near a plea for help.

It was wanting.

“More, please,” and now he feels as if the heat across his cheeks are shot into the lower part of his body. “More, please,” and now he feels his knees buckles and his own breath syncing to the rough and ragged breaths coming from behind the sealed tight door. “More, please,” and he feels himself asking for the same thing because he wants more. “More, please,” more than his own hand around his cock. “More, please,”  more than his own imagination of a pair of two milky eyes that look at him in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend. 

“What do you want, my child?”

He breathes in, hard.

“I want—”

“Isaiah?”

Isaiah jolts in surprise when a voice calls him out. When he turns around, his palms are sweating like his forehead; his heartbeat beating wildly like it’s about to burst from his chest.

“What are you doing here? It’s past the curfew.” Monica Collins is staring at him with the same expression as the one she had three days ago, eyes shot open, her grip on the lantern tremble as she covers her mouth. 

“I’m—I was—” 

“Isaiah, I have been waiting for you.” 

Monica Collins stared at him with the same expression as the one she had three days ago. When her eyes travel from his stuttering form towards the figure behind him, it’s like all the doubts and confusion melt away. 

“Arya,” Monica says, and never for once Isaiah sees her looking so content with life; never for once, he finds her with stars in her eyes and so much peace radiating from her smile. He finds himself staring at the sudden change, all question marks popping out from his head, but then Arya’s hands find their way to his shoulder and they are gentle, oh. Arya’s hands were warm and tender when it pulled him back slowly until Isaiah’s own back hit his chest. Arya’s hands were warm and tender just like his smile when he waved Monica goodbye. 

The wooden door closes in one single click, and now the question marks change into a huge warning sign.

And just by that, Monica is gone in an instant. Now he’s standing face to face with the man of his God-forsaken imagination with sticky fingers and his cheeks fully flushed. He thinks that Arya smiles like he knows what is going on inside his head, but now, staring at him inside the dimly-lit room, Isaiah thinks that the expression was an understatement. Arya smiles like he knows when the world is going to end. It’s like nothing ever passed from his ‘sight’.

‘I can explain’ was the first thing that he wanted to say, but Arya cut him off before he could even begin. “Sleep here for the night,” Arya said, instead, and Isaiah, with sticky fingers and his cheeks still fully flushed, stare dumbfoundedly for a solid one minute.

“What?”

“Here, my child,” he replies, and then with his gentle hands, he takes him through the main room and into the darkest part of the house. The place looks bigger now that he’s inside, and if he thinks that the night sky outside was grim already, then he surely needs to reassess his thoughts.

“Here?”

It’s dark, that’s what he thinks about the room in front of him. There’s a window that’s shut tight, all of the glass is covered by dark planks until not even a shred of light could slip from any remaining gap. There are one bed and one end table, where there’s an oil lantern that looks like it hasn’t been used for years. He turns around to see Arya smiling at him again: waiting, expecting. But then Isaiah frowns, and even without his eyes,  Arya’s smile drops into a flat line without missing a single beat.

“What’s wrong?” Arya asks even before Isaiah could say anything. So Isaiah turns around to see the room again and he feels like the black is staring back at him with questioning eyes.

“It’s dark.”

Arya’s face undergoes a rapid change of expression in a split second. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His lips turn into flat again, and one of his eyebrows is raised. He looks at him straight in the eyes; God knows how he even does it. And when the silence starts to become more and more unbearable, Isaiah speaks again.

“It’s too dark.”

Silence again.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“Wait—huh? That’s not what I—”

“Why won’t you do it, then?”

“That… what, that doesn’t have to do with anything!”

“Do you hate me now?”

“No! That’s not it, th-that’s not it!”

“Then what is it, my child?”

Silence again.

“I-I...”

Arya’s face undergoes a rapid change of expression in a split second. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His lips turn flat again, and one of his eyebrows is raised. He looks at him straight in the eyes; God knows how he even does it. And when the silence starts to become more and more unbearable, Arya speaks.

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Wha… huh?”

“You don’t like the dark, don’t you, child?” he says, voice tender and delicate like his hand on his cheeks. Isaiah finds his breath stuck in his chest at that.

“What about the other person?”

“Other person?”

Isaiah keeps his mouth shut. Arya raises an eyebrow before he smiles, and there are so many smiles that he could pull off, but he decides to smile like he’s a contented wolf after feasting over a fallen elk. There wasn’t any happiness growing across his face, and as his smile grew bigger, Isaiah found the dread slowly and slowly creeping into his expression.

“I was alone, my son.”

Isaiah wakes up for the third time in the night. 

Actually, no. He hasn’t slept again after he laid down. There wasn’t anything wrong with the bed, no. Sure, it was too fluffy and soft for him, but that wasn’t it. There wasn’t even any problem with the dark, no, even if he can’t see anything and his eyes haven’t adjusted yet after two hours. That’s just not it. 

The problem lies with the snoring body that lies ten centimeters apart from his own waking state. Soft breathing, almost inaudible rustle of sheets. Isaiah has his face covered by the thin layer of blanket, with every noise he hears, he feels his heartbeat rising as the suspense creeps inside his entire bones, and, once again, he is pretending to be asleep while maintaining his breath that’s coming out in short, ragged pants. 

He can’t sleep. 

He doesn’t even know if Arya is asleep, doesn’t even know in which position he lies in the bed. He could be laying on his back, maybe. Maybe in his stomach, maybe in his side. The not knowing is what drives him mad, because he wants to know. He wants to see. He needs to see. 

He needs to see Arya. 

The bed frame creaks when he shifts his body and now he’s left staring at the darkness. There’s no need to close his eyes. He can’t see anything, after all, but at the back of his head, he imagines a pair of two milky eyes that look at him in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend. He imagines it was Arya staring back at him instead of the looming black that covers every prying eye from discovering whatever truth lies inside the emptiness.

He imagines Arya.

“What do you want, my child?”

He imagines the way his voice will be low and muffled, how breathy it’d be. So close to his ear; resounding inside his hollow chest. He imagines the way his hot breath fanning against his own sweating skin. He imagines the way his warm hand trailing up his thigh, imagines his fingers around his own hardening cock. He imagines chapped lips, wet by their mingled sweat and tears, swift tongue sweeping over it. He imagines soft kisses that turned greedy, he imagines his own hungry self swallowing him up to the base and hearing the pleas coming from that soft-spoken mouth.

“What do you want, my child?”

Curse his God-forsaken mind. Isaiah breathes in, breathes out. Hard, just like his own member under the mercy of his palm. Hard, just like the reality hitting him in the face. What does he want?

He breathes in, hard, and through gritted teeth, he says,

“I want to see you…”

“You want to see me?”

It feels like the earth stops rotating in its axis; it feels like his heart stopped beating in an instant. Isaiah opens his eyes, but all he sees is the darkness staring back at him with her daunting smile. The sirens are blaring inside his head and the air inside his lungs is sucked completely and now he’s left breathless, breathless, and blind. The pitch-black shames him until the red across his cheeks flames brighter than the one inside his chest.

“You want to see me, my child?”

The bed frame creaks when Arya shifts his body, but still, he’s left staring straight into the darkness. No matter how hard he struggled to imagine his expression, Isaiah just still can’t get his face right. Is he ashamed of him? He doesn’t know. Is he smiling at him? He doesn’t know either. The vivid imagination of a pair of two milky eyes no longer exist in the back of his head. All that’s left is the emptiness, the nothingness. The darkness stares back at him with a smirk on her face.

“I’m—I was—” 

“What do you want, my child?”

It was breathy, the voice, short, ragged pants that reminded him of his own breathing whenever he woke up in the night. It was breathy, his voice, but what comes from his own lips wasn’t anywhere near a harsh, judging bark like the one he used to get. The voice is always soft, always so tender, always so open for him. The voice looks through the decaying body which he’s laying in, it looks past through his broken and crooked smile right into the center of his entire being in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend. 

“Arya—”

Tender palm closes his eyelids shut just before wet lips press against his own. And Isaiah thinks, there’s something bitter in it, a metallic tang that he couldn’t just point out. But then he finds himself chasing after it, wanting more of the foul taste on his own lips. So he whispers, “More,” and puts his hand around his neck. When he feels like his palms are set ablaze, he thinks of all the possibilities that could happen until he ends up here. His thoughts are racing just to figure what’s holding him down and pulling such feelings from him that no one has ever been before because, “more, please,” He wants more. He lets his hand trail down his back. Arya feels like hard, rigid bones under his hand, nothing similar to human skin, but before he could ask about it, Arya claims his lips back. And, once more, he’s left begging under his mercy because, 

“More, please,” because he wants more. More than just the hungry kisses on his neck. “More, please,” more than the darkness staring back at him with a daunting smile. “More, please,”  more than his own imagination of a pair of two milky eyes that look at him in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend.

“What do you want, my child?”

Eyes sealed tight, breaths ragged and harsh. Isaiah breathes in, hard, and through his teeth, he whispers, “I want to see you,” but Arya claims his lips again right before he could finish it. “I want to see you,” but all that came was nothing more but a wrecked sob. “I want to see you,” but his lips can’t spill anything other than the breathy moans from the back of his throat.

He breathes in, hard.

“You.”

Isaiah Monsoon opens his eyes to see that the world around him might have not been the same as the place he sees yesterday.

When he looks at the sky, the birds chirp and greet him with a loving smile. The trees are swaying back and forth, the flower buds dance and tell him to join them in their colorful charade. Monica Collins asks him to help her with the carrot, then she helps him with the wheat field. The younger girls make flower crowns for him and the older boys teach him how to do the woodwork. Life is beautiful and content, but the best part doesn’t come at day.

It’s when the sky is covered with thick, forlorn drapes. Where darkness swallows everything whole and the stars look like holes made for us to breathe. The best part comes at night, when Arya tells him to visit him past the curfew in his shack. The best part comes at night, when he leans close to his ear, and with his low, murmured voice, he whispers, “I’ll accompany you.”

Isaiah Monsoon keeps his eyes glued to the dancing flowers when a pair of two milky eyes look at him as if it was trying to figure out what his erratic brain is thinking about. Arya walks without making any sound. How he ever managed to do it, that’s still a question that he can’t answer just yet. But his voice is always so warm and Isaiah thinks that nothing, nothing in this world could top the way it makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter up to his chest.

“Isaiah, may I speak to you?” Arya says, and without waiting for an answer, he sits next to him with a forlorn smile across his face.

“I need to show you something.”

The entrance of the cave was placed far away from the center of the community. The only light comes from the lantern on his hand. Arya navigates through the labyrinth as if he knew the place by heart, and how he ever managed to do it, that’s still a question that he can’t answer just yet. But still, he trailed behind him like a duckling, sticking close to him like a parasite with his host.

“Where are we going?” he asks, and Arya just smiles at him and says, “You’ll see soon.”

So it’s a room. A single room that’s sealed tight by a door. When Arya opens it, it feels like the temperature dropped to the ground. There’s a shiver running down his spine, there’s a cold that seeps into his bones until his joints hurt. There’s nothing inside. It’s just a simple room, a dark simple room.

“What is… this?” His grip on the lantern tightens, his back immediately stiffens.

“Punyasthana is a sacred place for us, a place of pilgrimage. It is a sanctuary where we are given the place to repent, to free ourselves from the worldly sin that binds us from reaching Nirodha, a state of pure holiness, a life devoid of any sin and pain. Now tell me, Isaiah,” Arya’s voice is hard and strained, but when he turns around, his smile is still as tender and loving as ever, “do you want to repent?”

It’s a room. That’s what Arya is trying to show. A room with nothing in it. Not even a bed, not a place to sit. It’s just a square room with jagged corners and… nothing. There’s nothing in it.

There’s a frown on his forehead when he says, “Yes?” because, true, he wants to. He wants to do anything that could please Arya, but what is this?

“Then you shall sleep here for three days and three nights.”

Arya’s hand was heavy on his shoulder when Isaiah almost dropped the lantern to the ground. “W-wait a moment!” His voice echoes through the cave system, his breath becoming heavy and it’s getting burdensome to actually take another whiff of breath.

“What is it, my child?”

He gulps. “Alone?”

Arya seems to be thinking hard, with the way the line of his face hardens and the corner of his lips curved downwards. There’s a sigh coming from his mouth when he finally smiles again, the expression then followed with a somber scowl.

“Yes, my child. I’m afraid I can’t accompany you.”

Isaiah stares dumbfoundedly when Arya takes the lantern from his hand. When he steps into the room, he looks at the jagged corner, and to the asymmetrical view, he places a frown. When he turns around, Arya is still smiling at him with his ever-loving smile, but when he closes the door and the only source of light is finally taken away from him, that’s when it finally hits him.

“You’re kidding me.” Isaiah walks to the door. This is, this is a joke, right? There’s just no way anyone here is THAT crazy to actually leave him with NOTHINGNESS here, right?

“Arya, you’re funny.” He walks towards the door and pulls it open.

It won’t budge.

Isaiah tries to imagine a door handle made of rusty metal. A wooden door that’s slightly rotten in the corners. He imagines the dirt around it. He imagines the texture of it as his hands roam on it in the darkness. He thinks about opening it but when he tries to do it, it won’t budge.

Okay, so maybe this is… this might be a joke. Maybe they’d come for him after ten minutes or so… Maybe this is just some, he doesn’t know, a ritual of some sort? A welcoming thing for him? After all, he’s… he has done all the things they want him to do here, no? He sleeps on the bed they make for him. He helps them with all the chores they want him to do. He listens to Monica Collins and how she talks about Arya has helped her through the darkness. He does everything, EVERYTHING, Arya wants him to do. He does everything just so he could be noticed, just so he could be accepted.

Yeah, maybe this… maybe this is just the same. Yeah, it probably won’t last for three days… three days and three nights? That’s funny.

Isaiah presses his back to the door and sinks to the floor. Yeah, he can wait. Ten minutes, one hour? That’s, that’s fine. He can entertain himself here. He doesn’t need any lighting or… yeah, he’s fine. He’s fine. He just needs to wait for a while. Right?

Wrong.

It’s been ten minutes, the door still didn’t budge when he tried to open it again. He sinks to the floor again, the darkness around him closing in yet he shrugs it off. He looks at the emptiness and imagines his happy place. It’s nothing, he reminds himself. He just needs to wait for a bit longer.

Wrong.

It’s been three hours, or so, the door still didn’t budge when he tried to open it again. He sinks to the floor again, the darkness around him closing in and he lets her tickle his skin because there’s nothing to do here. He looks at the emptiness and imagines a face looking back at him but deep down he knows it’s just the erratic part of his brain. It’s nothing, he reminds himself. He just needs to wait for a bit longer.

Wrong.

How long has it been? The door still didn’t budge when he tried to open it again. This time he didn’t let himself sink to the floor. The darkness that shadowed his entire sight sneering and smirking at his own foolish state. It’s nothing, he reminds himself, but he has waited and it feels like he has been staring at nothingness for more than six goddamn hours and he—no. No, no, no. This is, this gotta be a fucking joke.

“Arya?”

He pushes it open, and the door remains unmoving as well. He pulls it back, it stays put. “Arya, you can’t be serious.” He tries to open it again, it won’t open. He pulls it as hard as he can, it won’t open. He hits it with his knuckles, it won’t open. His heartbeat is thumping against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape from his chest, it won’t open. He pulls it again, it won’t open. He pulls, he pushes, and he pulls it again and again and again and it won’t open.

“ARYA!” His screams fall into deaf ears as he tries to open the door again. It won’t budge. Why? It. Won’t. Budge. Why? “ARYA YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE!” Why won’t it open? “ARYA!” He frowns. He laughs. He tries to open and open and open it again. Push, it won’t budge. Maybe because the door was supposed to be PULLED and not fucking PUSHED so he pulls it again but it JUST. WON’T. BUDGE. “ARYA OPEN THE DOOR!”

He presses his ears close to the door and he tries to find any lingering sound of cane against the dirt, but not even a single sound was heard except for his laborious breath because this FUCKING door won’t open and he is NOT staying here. No, no, no. How long has it been? Someone should’ve come and got him. He’s not a prisoner. Why is he here? No, no, NO. He’s not staying here.

“ARYA YOU FUCKING SICK BASTARD!”

THUD! and he slams his fucking shoulder to the door. His heartbeat rising and the sweats on his chin drip and disappear into the darkness. THUD! and he slams his fucking shoulder to the door again. His feet stomping the ground as he pulls back and runs back to the door and THUD! And it just. WON’T. BUDGE. “ARYA OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” THUD! “ARYA YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE!” THUD!

“ARYA!”

And there’s nothing to be told after that.

It’s cold, the room. It’s cold and it’s dark and his fucking shoulder hurts and the screams shifts into beg and the beg shifts to wails and now he’s laying on his side because it hurts. It’s dark and it’s cold and he’s tired and he can’t breathe. It hurts and he’s scared. It’s dark and it’s cold and he’s scared.

“Arya, please…”

Isaiah lays stiffened as he hugs his shivering body with his arm, and in the back of his closed eyes, he imagines the warmth of a mother hug. He imagines soft-spoken words from a father’s lips. He imagines fire: twirling and leaping. The heat burns his entire body but it was better than this. It’s better than the closed space. It’s better than the cold. It’s better than the darkness and her veil hanging close to his face.

He has done all the things they want him to do here, no? He sleeps on the bed they make for him. He helps them with all the chores they want him to do. He listens to Monica Collins’ stupid bullshit about how Arya has helped her through the darkness. He does everything, everything, he wants him to do. He does everything just so he could be noticed, just so he could be accepted.

So what went wrong?

He stays in his position until the pain finally subdues, and then he tries to find the wall, tries to lean himself anywhere but the cold ground. He crawls but his arm won’t hit any wall. He stands up and limps but his arm won’t hit any wall. He walks and walks and he runs but the darkness is endless and now he’s standing, standing, and staring to the fucking void, and at this point, he’s going to accept if the void stares back, but no.

There’s nothing there.

Times tick by, or so he thought it does. Time is blurry here. Hell yeah, it does. Time is blurry here, he knows that for sure. He used to be able to check the time. Back then, he knew exactly when to move, when they told him when to move. He used to be able to know what to do and when to do it, but now all he could do is count from one to a hundred to a thousand to a God-knows number and then switch to prayers he never thought he would say again because they never allow him to do it here. Why won’t they let him do it? Why did Arya take his rosary back then? What is this place, actually?

Isaiah thinks about the time where his life is different from this. He thinks about New York, where the buildings are taller than his will to live. He thinks about the shitty B&B, where the toilet smells like shit and the TV channels have nothing but poor news that talks about all kinds of hoaxes. He remembers about the monotonous abandoned factories that he slept in whenever he’s far from his even shittier home. He remembers about everything, about his life before... this.

Days pass, maybe, and the floor is cold when he curls his legs close to his chest. How long has it been? He knows the door still won’t budge even when he tries to open it again. He’s hungry, he’s thirsty. Nobody comes here and he’s alone. He’s alone and he’s cold and God, it’s dark. It’s so dark.

He closes his eyes and feels his own cheeks getting wet.

And then the door creaks open.

“Welcome back, my child.”

He hears it, the soft thud of cane against the ground. He hears it, the slow, limping steps coming close to him. He feels it, the soft press of a hard calloused hand against his cheeks.

When he opened his eyes, it was a pair of two milky eyes that look at him in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend. The soft glow of a lantern, the soft smile across his eyes. Isaiah melts into the hand as it makes a soft, rubbing motion in his cheeks, and he breathes in, breathes out.

“Arya...?” 

“Yes, my child?” 

Isaiah PUSHES him over until he falls. The cane drops to the ground, the fucking lantern? He grabs it and holds to it for dear life because he’s NOT going to spend any day in the dark again. And he runs. He fucking runs and runs because he ain’t staying here again. Not now, not ever. Curse his brain for thinking this is gonna work, curse his motherfucking head for hoping he would last. 

“Isaiah...” 

“FUCK. YOU.” 

The walls looked similar, and so does the ground, but in his frenzy state, he keeps running and running and running until his lungs burn and his chest hurts ‘cause he ain’t taking this shit again. 

FUCK! “Isaiah?” 

The sun blinds his eyes as he steps out of the endless labyrinth of dark. All around him are specks of white; blurry dots coming in. The whispers turn into chatters, the quiet gasps become louder and louder and— 

“Isaiah, is that you?” 

He drops to the ground, drops himself, drops the lantern in his hand. The sun heats his shivering body and when he looks up it was Monica Collins staring at him with the same expression as the one she had God-knows how many fucking days ago. Wide-eyed, gasping. “That’s a sin!” God-fucking-DAMMIT! 

“SHUT UP!!!” 

He props himself up and stands on his bleeding feet. He makes sure he’s loud and clear, makes sure everyone shut their fucking mouth up. 

“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. ABOUT YOUR FUCKING SIN.” 

He looks around. To the wide-eyed, terror-filled faces circling around him, he scoffs with the last remaining energy he has. 

“I know what you sick fucks are now. You ain’t foolin’ me again, no. You ain’t doing that to me.” 

He looks around. By the wide-eyed, terror-filled faces circling around him, he’s reminded of the rosary his father used to hold. 

“I should’ve known the very moment I see your ASSES tailing over the goddamn old man like he’s a fucking Messiah. I was fucking BLIND but now I know.” 

He looks around. 

“A FUCKING CULT.” Gasps and gasps. “Y’all a fucking CULT. People with issues tryna have their life back in line but lemme tell you this, that fucking sick bastard are foolin’ you. He ain’t GOD. Ain’t your FUCKING dad. He’s a fucking manipulative sick bastard with issues.” 

“Isaiah, y–you can’t sa—” 

“SHUT. UP. MONICA. SHUT UP with your GODDAMN BULLSHIT about how he saved your ass. Did you get starved for GOD KNOWS how FUCKING LONG? Did you get your FUCKING senses taken away from YOU? Did you know what inside that GODDAMN DOOR?” 

“W—what door—” 

“That’s enough.” 

Isaiah turns around to see the SICK BASTARD limping on his cane. His fucking eyes reminded him of spoilt milk on a no longer working fridge and he LOATHES the way he looks at him. Don’t fucking look at me. Don’t fucking look at me you SICK. BASTARD.

“Isaiah.” 

“DON’T FUCKING COME NEAR ME.” 

Arya stops before he could take another step. 

“My child, I know you’re upset.” 

He hates it. He hates how SICK he’s feeling right now. He hates it. He hates how even by now, his voice is still so tender and warm and it makes him want to lean himself to it but he can’t. Arya takes another step closer and he takes another step back. No, don’t come near me. No, get the FUCK away. 

“But it doesn’t have to be like this.” 

Arya extends his arm, and he looks at him. He looks at him in a way his consciousness couldn’t even comprehend and Isaiah WANTS him but he can’t. No, he’s not going to be fooled anymore. 

“No.” Breathless, he shakes his head. Arya’s smiles faded and now the lines across his face are hardening and then there’s a frown and now he looks at him and he looks sad and Isaiah wants to say that he’s sorry but he knows he can’t. No. 

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” he says, and Isaiah sneers.

“No.” 

All around him are people in white clothes and they’re coming after him, but he runs. He runs and he pushes people on sight and he runs and he runs even as they call him out. And when someone comes too close he punches the shit out of their faces like his life depends on it because it does. His knuckles bleed and so does his feet and everything is on fire at the back of his head but still, he runs. 

Because it wasn’t always like this.  

His life, he means.  

It’s usually more... How can he say this? Usually, it’s far more gruesome than this. There was usually more blood on his hand that wasn’t even his. His nails and fingertips were all covered in pitch-black ashes, his entire body smells like kerosene and reeks of sweat. 

Now though? Now Isaiah is running for his dear life. 

Because the world around him is not the same as the one he sees yesterday. 

And he can’t trust his eyes anymore.

Part 1