#anyway I found a somewhat suitable match last time I went looking

[artificial-ascension]

Children's anime had two genres between 2005 and 2015 it was either Big Robot or Creature or a mix of both but it had to be one of those.

[asian-hero]

Too Impatient to Wait Another Lifetime (2/3)

A/N: I’m not going to lie, but the reason I didn't post this for a while is because the last one did so poorly compared to my other fics, so I figured that no one would want to read this anymore :(

But I truly love this story, and this is probably my favorite part that I wrote for this, so I wanted to share it anyways :) Welcome to the medieval/fantasy era

Pairing: Prince!Todoroki/Bard!Reader

Summary: The idea of soulmates is often one that’s heavily debated over. Some believe in the idea that there’s one special person out there for everyone, whereas others believe that it’s near impossible for just one person to be your “perfect match.” While you can’t necessarily see if someone is your soulmate, when you finally find that person, you get a feeling of euphoria that you’ve never experienced before. Unfortunately for you, someone must find it hilarious to constantly separate you from your soulmate every single time, in every single lifetime. So, what happens when you realize that you don’t want to wait any longer for your happily ever after?

Words: 8,367

If there was one thing that Prince Todoroki Shouto hated, more than the weighty title at the beginning of his name, more than the isolation he felt from being the heir to the throne, it would be the seemingly pointless balls his father would insist upon.

In all honesty, he knew why his father would put on these lavish events. Since Shouto was the crown prince, only due to a falling out between his father and his two eldest brothers, the fate of the Todoroki lineage had also rested upon his shoulders, and in order to keep their family tree growing, he needed a wife. However, since he was never allowed outside the walls of the castle, these balls were put in place in order to find the most “suitable” wife for Shouto. 

Suitable for his father, of course.

So, Shouto would hold his tongue, not daring to argue with his father’s wishes, though he wished nothing more than to just lay low for one night, to at least pretend that he was a normal person, one who wouldn’t be forced into a loveless marriage. Instead, he’d quietly submit to the demands of the King, sitting on a throne next to his mother, watching as lord’s and lady’s danced around, mingling with one another. He did his best to keep in the disgust whenever a prominent lord would step up, their daughter standing behind them, and attempt to sell the royal family on one of their own, as if their daughters were simply tools used to gain an entry into a world they desperately wanted to be apart of. Every single time he’d come face to face with a desperate lord, he wished that he could just give them his status, with no charge. After all, they seemed to want it more than he did.

It was safe to say that Todoroki Shouto hated balls. He found them to be tedious and repetitive.

However, tonight was different.

Not fundamentally, no. Shouto still sat upon his throne, doing his best to look somewhat interested as his father droned on and on about some girl from a dukedom not too far from them. As his eyes drifted from person to person on the dance floor, he found himself pausing when his eyes land upon a woman dancing around while playing the lute, singing a lovely tune that carried throughout the entire ballroom. She was accompanied by a few other musicians, who seemed almost as jolly as she was. Shouto wasn’t quite sure what drew him to her. Perhaps it was her melodic voice, or maybe it was the semblance of freedom that her entire person exuded. She both irritated him and intrigued him, and that mix of emotions was what made his feet move towards you, seemingly not caring to hear what his father had to say for his sudden movement. He wasn’t able to make it far, though, for as soon as he entered the dance floor, he was met with a few women, some of which he recognized belonged to powerful dukedoms, who begged him for a dance. Even as he tried to step away politely, trying to get over towards the bard who captured his attention, they still persisted. He did his best to try and escape them without seeming like an asshole, but it was becoming more and more difficult.

Across the dance floor, singing the last note of the last song before intermission, stood you, a slightly goofy smile etched across your face. Coming down from the high of your latest performance, you quickly gave a bow, though you doubted that anyone noticed, and walked over to your group, giving out words of encouragement and praise, as most of them had never preformed at such a large gathering before, let alone a ball for the King. You laughed along with your group, listening to the newer ones ramble on about how grand the ball looks, how lucky you all were to be in the presence of such high ranking people.

As you continued to converse with those around you, you found yourself looking over towards the sea of people, who had now taken a pause in their dancing, opting to talk amongst themselves. Though they never spared even a glance at you or your friends, nor would they ever stoop as low as to talk to the likes of you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth at the thought that they all had danced to your music. Not some fancy, uptown musicians that the King could’ve easily hired, but you and your traveling group of musicians. Though you tried not to get a big head about it, you found yourself welling up with pride.

You were so absorbed into your own world that you didn’t notice the group of women hounding a man behind you, slowing inching closer and closer to your group. By the time you finally noticed you were just moving to grab your lute, moving to get back into position, but it was too late. As you straightened up, putting on your smiling persona, you felt someone collide with you, pushing you forward and nearly causing you to trip over yourself. The sound of your lute crashing against the floor was drowned out by the chattering of the crowd, but you could practically feel the anger rolling off of you. Whipping around, you were fully prepared to give whoever bumped into you a piece of your mind, telling them that they owed you a new instrument. However, as soon as you eyes locked with the cold, heterochromatic gaze of the Prince, you found your words catching in your throat. 

Rather than giving the long lecture you’d mentally prepared, you instead bowed slightly, doing your best to remember what to do in the event of meeting a royal. “Your Highness, I apologize—“

As you looked up, you found yourself staring at a rather harsh glare from the Prince, one that made shivers go down your spine. Standing back up, you met his gaze, not backing down. In that moment, you could’ve sworn that you saw a hint of surprise flicker in his eyes, but as soon as one of the lady’s beside him spoke, the hint of emotion was gone, and was replaced by the usual cold aura he exuded.

“Oh my goodness, Prince Shouto, are you okay?” One of the women asked, sending you an unamused stare before going back to her mock fretting, “Did she hurt you?”

At the subtle shake of his head, you wanted to snort in response. After all, how the hell could you hurt him? He was the one who bumped into you. Just as you were about to excuse yourself, to escape to your friends who had suddenly disappeared at the sight of the Prince, you heard him clear his throat, signaling that he wanted your attention. Turning back to face him, you gave him a questioning look. 

Strutting up to you, he watched you with detached, emotionless eyes, and, for a moment, you felt your normally bubbly and carefree persona disappear. Now, all you felt like was a child who was getting scolded.

“Make sure you watch where you’re going, next time.” With that, he turned away from you, but you weren’t about to let that sit.

“Watch where I’m going?” You asked, making sure that you heard him right.

When he didn’t respond, you felt yourself growing livid. How dare he blame you when he was the one who bumped into you? Even if that wasn’t the case, in the end he was fine, and you were without your lute. Stomping over to him, you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“I’ll have you know that you were the one who bumped into me,” You hissed, making sure to keep your voice quiet enough to not cause a scene, “Just because you’re some ‘high and mighty’ Prince doesn’t mean that you’re not above an apology.”

Shoving your broken lute into his face, you gave a mocking smile, doing your best to keep your anger at bay. “You owe me a new lute, and I expect that on top of my pay for tonight,”

Huffing, you stormed off to where the rest of your band were, realization of what you just said not quite hitting you. As you went off, your back turned towards the Prince, you didn’t get to see the absolute shock on his face, nor did you see the way he held off the women beside him, telling them that it was fine, and there was no need to cause a fuss over your outburst. Once you were over to your group, you were greeted with the shocked faces of your friends, some of them were focused on the broken lute in your hand, while the others were more focused on you. 

“Are you,” One of them started, reaching out a hand towards you, “Are you alright?”

You gave a hum of affirmation, easing some of their worries. “Don’t worry about me, my lute broke my fall,”

Once you were able to calm them down, another one piped up. “What did you say to the Prince? You looked pretty agitated,”

You waved your hand, trying to dispel their worries once more. “It wasn’t that bad, all I said was that just because he’s royalty doesn’t mean that he’s absolved from a simple apology. I mean, he’s the one who bumped into me.”

While your friends continued to stare at you incredulously, you couldn’t help but wonder just what they were thinking. 

It took you exactly two minutes to realize what you had just said, and to whom. 

Gasping, you put a hand up to your mouth, ducking your head as if that would hide you from the royals. You honestly don’t know what overcame you, all you know is that you were angry because he had the nerve to say that you were the one in the wrong, and that didn’t sit right with you. But now, oh god, you were surprised that he even let you walk away from him, after that outburst you had. While there weren’t stories about any sort of cruelness the Crown Prince had, there certainly were tales of how cold and dismissive he could be, and you certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

Moving to whisper to one of your friends, you told them that you needed to leave, preferably at that moment. Having seen what just occurred, they ushered you to the door, telling you that it was probably for the best. So, as you made through the shadows of the magnificent ballroom, you made sure to stay hidden away from any prying eyes, just in case anyone saw their entertainment run away like prey from predator. Thankfully for you, your group seemed to distract all the nobility, playing another song as you left.

Turning around one last time, you found yourself locking eyes with the Prince once more, and, if you were a betting woman, you’d say that he was looking at you with both curiosity and, a bit of regret? It was a bit unnerving, to be stared down like that. However, remembering all of the times you’ve incorrectly guessed when gambling, you immediately crush that idea. There was no way he was looking at you with anything but contempt. Exiting the room, you made your way out of the castle and into the chilly air of the night, praying that you’d never have to see that Prince again.

Unfortunately for you, fate seemed to enjoy toying with you.

A few days after the royal ball, you found yourself in one of the dingiest taverns in the kingdom. While, of course, it wasn’t necessarily the best looking, you had to admit that both the patrons and the drinks were what kept you coming back for more. The unassuming tavern had become a home of sorts for you, somewhere that you could walk in to and be recognized immediately, greeted with a warm welcome. It was quite possibly your favorite place to preform, if not for the company, then because of the tips you’d receive.

Though you still mourned your dearly departed lute, the instrument that had been with you since you first started out, you were thankful to have backup options in case something awful happened. So, as you moved around the bar, singing some tune that lifted the mood of all the patrons, your fingers danced across your lyre, playing a melodic song that captivated all those around you. It was nice to have a change in pace, and although you would’ve much preferred the instrument you were most comfortable with, it was a pleasant change to hear the soft and angelic plucks of your lyre.

Dancing around the tavern, you gave flirtatious looks at the patrons who seemed to have the most money, giving them a wink as they tucked a few coins into the small bag at your side. Continuing to move around, you could vaguely hear the soft click of the front doors opening, indicating that yet another person had entered. Though you paid no mind, as you were wrapped up in your song, with your voice carrying an alluring tune, one that both put life into the bar, and seemingly had every person in there wrapped around your finger. As you turned around, your fingers still moving across the strings, you found yourself eyeing up a person you’d never seen here before. 

Their figure was cladded in a black cloak, with the hood pulled up, covering most of their face. The clothes they wore beneath were hard to depict, but from what you could make out, it seemed as though this person was either a thief or a well off worker, as they seemed too nice for the typical patron. Eyes trailing up to their face, you couldn’t really see anything above their nose, but one thing that stuck out to you was the marking on the left side of their face, the scarred flesh stopping mid-cheek. For a brief moment, your mind wondered if the person was actually the prince, though the rational side of your brain told you that the idea was ridiculous, it’d be stupid of the prince to come here, of all places. He’d certainly have a death wish coming here, if not for the thieves who would want to either hold him for ransom, then the common folk who’d want to kill him due to their hatred of his father. However, as your song ended, your eyes finally connected with the mysterious stranger.

A mixed match of steel gray and a cool blue eyes had locked with yours.

Feeling your heart freeze in your chest, you quickly gave a bow to the audience, quickly glancing from side to side to see if anyone else had noticed the dumb prince. When you realized that no one had noticed, you quickly walked over to the hooded man, slamming your hand down onto counter beside him. He seemed startled at your sudden aggression, but as you smiled sweetly to the bartender nearby, he allowed himself to relax, though you could tell that he was still on edge. 

“Can I get two pints of ale?” You asked, though it was more of a statement as you threw your coins onto the counter, nodding your head as the bartender went to pour your drinks.

Once you had the two mugs, you looked over at your new companion, nodding your head over to the most secluded area, telling him to follow. Walking towards the table in the corner, you found yourself blocking the prince’s body with your own, making sure that no one else figured out who he was. As you two slid into your seats, you pushed one of the mugs towards him, taking a long sip from yours.

Letting out a long sigh, you put your drink down, crossing your arms across your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He simply looked down at the drink set in front of him, his fingers tapping on the sides of the mug. When he didn’t give you an answer, you leaned in closer, your face certainly too close to be comfortable, especially knowing that the man sat in front of you was royalty. “Not going to answer me? Should I just assume that you were just wandering around town and you happened to stumble into any tavern you could find?”

He shook his head, his eyes finally meeting yours once more. As you continued to look at him with confusion swirling in your eyes, he bit his cheek, figuring out what exactly he should say.

“You said that just because I’m a ‘high and mighty’ prince, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t apologize for my actions,”

At that, you could feel your cheeks heating up, the mortification of what you’d said coming back full force. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm yourself, putting on a look of pure neutrality.

“So, you’re here to berate me for it? Have me arrested?” You truly shouldn’t have this much confidence, but you couldn’t help yourself. Being in your second home made you feel more comfortable, and you knew that those around you would help you out in a heartbeat. 

However, it didn’t seem to be necessary, as the prince shook his head, and it was then you realized that he seemed to have a rather awkward look on his face.

“No, that’s not it at all,” He started, his hands gripping onto his drink tighter, “I wanted to say that you were right,”

You blinked, not quite sure if you heard him correctly. “Pardon?”

“No one has ever been as straightforward as you. I know that I come off as cold and abrasive, and there are times when I truly mean to be. However, I shouldn’t have been so rude to you that night when I was the one at fault,” Staring at you with an all too sincere look, he continued, “So, I’d like to apologize for my actions,”

You continued to look at him with a blank look on your face. It was still baffling to you that, firstly, the prince came to perhaps one of the shadiest taverns in the kingdom, just to apologize to you, and secondly, the fact that he seemed to be an entirely different person that the last time you saw him, even though it hadn’t been long. The prince you saw at the ball was stuck up and rude, but the man you saw before you looked uncomfortable and unsure of himself. 

Clearing your throat, you averted your eyes from his, taking in the lively seen before you. “How did you even know I’d be here?”

“I asked your bandmates,” He said simply, as if it were the easiest answer in the world.

Your lips quirked downwards, and you made a mental note to scold them afterwards. After all, what would’ve happened if he wasn’t as kind as he was, then they’d be responsible for ether your  banishment or your arrest. 

Leaning back into your chair, your eyes flickered across his form, still unable to truly process the person in front of you. While you thought it was sweet of him to come all this way to formally apologize to you, you couldn’t help but think of how stupid he was, wandering around town all by himself. What would’ve happened if someone else were to have recognized him? 

Deciding to voice your worries, you spoke, “So, what in the world made you think that coming to the shadiest part of the kingdom all by yourself was a good idea?”

He tilted his head, and it took all of your self restraint to not sigh once more. “I’m not alone,” Pointing towards another cloaked figure hanging by the door, he smiled, “I had one of my trusted knights come with me,”

Before you could even breathe, he glanced over to his side, “Besides, I figured that I should give you this in person,”

Eyes following to where the prince had looked, you finally noticed the rather fancy looking lute sitting by his side, and you felt your jaw drop. Snapping back up to look at him, you gasped.

“Your Highness, I can’t—“

“Shouto.”

When you gave him the most incredulous look, he simply shrugged, taking a sip of his beverage, “We’re far from the castle, there’s no need to call me ‘Your Highness,’ and besides,” he started, a small smirk playing on his lips, “Weren’t you the one who said I shouldn’t bring attention to myself?”

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold in a smart remark. While it may be true that the two of you are far away from his castle walls, it didn’t mean that you were safe from punishment should he see fit. So, you approached the situation cautiously, making sure that you were clear in your response.

“Shouto,” You started, and you were fairly certain that you could see his eyes light up, “You cannot just show up to give me an expensive lute just because your conscious caught up with you. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here at all,”

You could see his face fall for a second, but before you could even try to soften your original statement, his blank mask was put back on, his lips forming a thin line.

“I came here out of my own volition, only to fulfill a request that you made that night,” Leaning in a bit closer, he raised a brow, “Or do you not remember demanding me to give you a new one?”

Though you usually prided yourself on being able to keep calm in some of the most stressful situations, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling situating itself in the pit of your stomach. After all, it wasn’t every day that you were inches away from the prince’s face. 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke once more, “I said many things out of anger, but I didn’t expect you to take that part seriously.”

He didn’t answer you with words, instead bringing the instrument over the table and setting it beside you, to which you immediately pushed it back towards him, your eyes unrelenting. For a few more seconds, the two of you found yourselves pushing the lute back and forth, neither of you wanting to give in.

After what had to have been the fifth or sixth time, the prince sighed, pushing it back towards you for the final time. “I don’t understand why you’re so adamant about not taking it, but you may as well just accept it. After all, you’ll be needing it for the next ball,”

Your head jolted up, eyes boring into his, “Can you repeat that?”

The prince’s eyes lit up once again in mischief, though he did his best to mute his facial expressions. “There’s a ball next month, and I’ve already told my father that you’ll be playing once more.”

“Are you serious—“

“So I suggest that you take the lute and start practicing, perhaps learn a few new songs before the ball,” Standing up, he threw one last smirk in your direction, “Oh, and if I see that you don’t have that lute, I’ll be sure to get you an even more costly one.”

With that, the prince made his way over to his knight, and the two of them exited the tavern, leaving you to wonder just what the hell happened.

So, after a month had passed, and, though you detested it, you learned a few more songs, you found yourself coming in contact with Shouto Todoroki once more. Only this time, rather than being able to blend into the crowd, simply singing and dancing your heart out, you felt a pair of mismatched eyes watching your every move, and, if you were lucky, you could make out the slightest hint of a smile on his features whenever you met his eyes.

Similarly to the last ball, Shouto refused to dance with anyone, choosing to sit upon his throne as he watched the lords and lady’s dance to their heart’s content, and, just like last time, he sat through the multitudes of lords offering their daughters to his father with the promises of alliances that he truly didn’t care for, nor did he need. 

However, instead of simply going through the motions, wanting nothing more for the ball to end, Shouto instead focused his sights on you, watching with a small smile on his face as you danced around from person to person. Instead of feeling a sense of resentment towards you like last time, he instead found great joy and entertainment in watching you preform, and he especially enjoyed it whenever the two of you made eye contact, only for you to turn your head, your entire body screaming with embarrassment. Though he wasn’t quite sure why, he could feel his heart speed up whenever you’d give him a subtle wave, a small enough gesture that no one else but him caught. He didn’t know why his face would flush at the sight of you smiling and laughing, or why he wished that he could be the one who made you look like that.

While the prince continued to watch you intently, you found yourself playing your last few songs, your fingers plucking the strings of the lute gifted to you by the stubborn prince. You did have to admit, the instrument he had made for you seemed to be made out of the finest materials, and it had a lovely sound. 

As the night grew longer, and you were on your final song, you found yourself growing more bold in your movements, singing even louder and even dancing alongside some of the nobles in the room, whom seem to have enjoyed the show you put on for them. Singing the last few bars of the song, you twisted your body to face the prince, and, with an unfounded surge of confidence filling your body, you gave him a sly wink before bowing to the crowd, taking your leave.

Since you promptly turned around and walked over to your bandmates, you didn’t notice the surprised look developing on the prince’s face. If you’d waited for just a moment longer, you would’ve seen the dramatic shift in color from his usually pale face to a red that could rival the shade of his hair. You would’ve also noticed, had you waited, that Shouto promptly excused himself, an action that wasn’t too unusual for the party hating prince, walking quickly down the steps and out the door in order to reach you.

Just before you could head back into the carriage the King had sent for you, you felt a hand tug at your wrist, preventing you from moving further. Whipping your head around, you made eye contact with Shouto, who also seemed to be just as shocked as you due to his actions. Raising a brow, you stepped closer to the man, giving him a quizzical look.

“Your Highness,” You started, glancing down at where his hand held you, “Is there something wrong?”

At the sound of your voice, Shouto released you from his grip, moving to rest his hands by his sides, “Ah, no, everything’s fine,”

Nodding your head slowly, you took a cautious step towards the carriage, not quite sure if you were dismissed. When you noticed the downcast look upon the prince’s face, you bit your lip, weighing your options carefully. Deciding that you may as well gamble with fate, you spoke up:

“It was nice to see you again, Shouto,” You started, giggling as the prince looked up at you with shock, “Even though it was entirely your fault for this,”

With that, you stepped one step further, grabbing one of his hands in yours and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand before waving goodbye, entering your carriage. As you entered, you watched the prince’s face turn from one of shock to one you couldn’t quite read. Just as the carriage was about to take off, with you wondering if you’d insulted him just now, you watched in surprise as he clambered into the seat beside you, shutting the door quickly behind him.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, looking out the window to see if anyone had seen him. 

Luckily for you, the only person who had seen the prince enter in with you was your coachman, and you supposed you could pay him off to keep his mouth shut. However, that still left you with the confusion as to why the prince jumped in beside you. As you continued to stare at him for an answer, he began to stumble over his words, something so uncharacteristically charming.

“I—“ He started, immediately cutting himself off as he tried to better answer your question, “Well, I’m not really sure what to say. My body was moving on its own,”

You gave him the most dry look you could’ve mustered, though you couldn’t find it in you to be irritated. Sighing, you leaned back into your seat, raising an eyebrow at the man. “You do know that I could be in serious trouble if you come with me, they’d think that I kidnapped you,”

He giggled at that, a sound that you wanted to hear more of. “Ah yes, the bard and serial kidnapper, (Y/N),”

You weren’t sure why, but the way he said your name made your heart flutter. However, you pushed that feeling down immediately, staring at him with a serious look in your eye. He seemed to understand the situation, opting to speak once more.

“I’m truly not sure why I jumped in, all I know is that I wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet,” He smiled at you, taking your hand into his, “You make me feel so many different emotions that I have yet to feel,”

You scoffed, yet you still let him hold your hand, “Oh really? Like what?”

“Envy,” He stated simply, before his face grew into an even bigger grin, “Amusement, happiness, and perhaps a few more that I can’t quite describe,”

He leaned in closer, and you felt your throat dry, watching as he simply stared at you. You wanted both to kick him out of the carriage to save face, and to pull him even closer, though you weren’t quite sure which urge was stronger. In all honesty, you hoped that he couldn’t hear how quickly your heart was beating, not wanting him to get an even bigger ego boost than before. 

The two of you continued to stare at one another, neither of you making a move until the coachman coughed awkwardly.

“Miss,” He started, his voice catching both of you off guard, “Should we be heading off?”

Looking to the source of the voice, then back at the prince in front of you, you watched as he leaned in closer to your ear, whispering, “I’ve already told my guard to cover for me, I’ll be fine,”

Pursing your lips, you didn’t take your eyes off of the man in front of you as you called out, “Yes, let’s go.”

Rather than having him take you back to your home, you instead had the coachman take you to the center of the city, where the festivities never ended and the two of you could blend in without a trace. Before the two of you exited the vehicle, you quickly shoved off any symbols of royalty that cladded Shouto’s figure. He watched in amusement as you hastily took off his cloak and royal broaches, not bothering to help you one bit. As you sat back a bit, trying to see how he looked, you shrugged your shoulders, figuring that it was as good as it was going to get. 

“You just look like a wealthier man,” You sighed, tugging his hand as you exited the carriage, “I suppose that’ll have to do,”

“I am a wealthier man,” He pointed out, waiting for you as you paid a hefty amount to the coachman, hoping that it would buy his silence.

You simply waved your hand, as if dismissing him. Pulling him into the center, you began to show him the many attractions and foods that were in the city. You wanted to show him more of what he never got to see, wanted him to experience more than he ever got to do. Watching him stare in awe of the sheer amount of stalls that were open for the night market made your heart soar, and you couldn’t help but giggle whenever he’d ask you what something was. You allowed yourself to be pulled in every direction, letting him choose where he wanted to go, and what he wanted to try. There was one moment when you lost him in the crowd, being pulled away from his side. You were panicked at first, worrying that someone would’ve recognized him, and then the two of you would be in trouble. However, when you felt a hand intertwine with yours, you felt yourself let out a huge sigh, scolding him gently for leaving your side. He apologized with a cheeky smile, telling you that he got distracted by something.

For the rest of your time in the city, the two of you never disconnected your hands.

As the night began to wind down, you pulled him towards a clearing in the park, finding some space where no one could bother the two of you. Sitting down on the grass, you motioned for him to join you, staring out to watch the river’s current. You could feel his presence beside you, his body emanating a comforting warmth that almost had you leaning into him. Staring out into the horizon, neither of you spoke, instead opting to simply enjoy the moment with one another. 

It was surprising to you, just how well you seemed to get along with the prince. Though your first impressions of one another weren’t exactly something to marvel over, you were surprised by just how well your personalities went together. It felt as though you had known each other in another life, as if you grew to care for one another then, and it was flowing over to the present. Though you weren’t one to believe in myths such as that, you couldn’t help but smile at the idea of having known the prince in a past life, and you wondered what you’d done to be lucky enough to meet him once more. 

Turning your head to the side, you made eye contact with Shouto, whom, once caught, whipped his head to the other side, a steady blush rising from his neck. Throwing your head back, you let out a laugh at his actions, amused with how he responded. Scooting just a bit closer, you bumped his shoulder with your own.

“Enjoying the view?” You teased, giggling harder when his face became a bright red. 

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he smiled. “If I was?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, doing your best to keep the heat from rising to your own face. “Can’t blame you, really,”

Shouto let a laugh out at that, tilting his head back at the sound. Once more, the two of you grew silent, with nothing but the far away chatter from the townsfolk filling the night air. As the night grew colder, and the sky turned from a violet shade to a pitch black void, you turned your head to look at Shouto, giving him a sad smile.

“Well, you should probably head back now, wouldn’t want the King to start a war looking for you,”

He scoffed, but nonetheless stood up, extending a hand for you to take. Once the two of you stood up, with you brushing off your lap for any excess debris, Shouto continued to hold your hand in his, not ready to let you go just yet. When you noticed that he was making no effort in leaving, you gave him a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, before deciding to tease him a little, “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to get home,”

Rather than feeding into your teasing like normal, he instead fished for something in his pocket with his free hand, fumbling for a bit before finally pulling out a simple locket, one that you’d been not so secretly eyeing since the two of you got there. 

It was by no means an extravagant necklace, it was just a simple gold locket, the shape of a small oval and a chain that went down to your collarbone. You looked from the necklace in his hand back to his face, confusion taking over your features.

“Didn’t I tell you last time that I didn’t want you to go and buy me things?” You questioned.

He nodded, taking his hand out of yours and putting the necklace on you, his hands brushing the back of your neck for a moment longer than they needed to. “If there’s something you should know about me, it’s that I usually don’t comply,”

You huffed out a laugh, doing your best to disguise your flustered state, though you were sure he could read you like a book. “You know, if you keep buying me things, I’m going to get used to it,”

“Maybe you should,”

Before you could even protest, he moved in closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was so soft and his movements were so unsure that you weren’t quite sure that you hadn’t imagined it. Touching the spot where his lips had rested, you looked up at him in shock, though he refused to make eye contact with you once more. 

“I hope to see you again, (Y/N),” He spoke, clearing his throat as he began to walk away.

You didn’t let him get far, however, as you quickly tug on his wrist, and as he turned to ask what you needed, you pressed your lips onto his, giving him a sweet kiss. At first, you felt him stiffen beneath you, and just as you were about to move away, to apologize immediately, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

For a few minutes, the two of you simply stood in the darkness, pressing soft kisses to each other’s faces, basking in the glow of your reciprocated feelings. However, you knew that he needed to be back soon, if not for fear of being found out, then because the night was much too dangerous for a royal like him. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his embrace, giggling at his pout.

“You really need to get going now,” You said, brushing his hair away from his face, “You’re sure to be in trouble if they find you missing,”

He sighed, not wanting to move away, but knew you were right. Resting his forehead on yours, he gave you one last kiss, smiling hopefully at you. “So, can I see you again?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the prince, you could send your knights to come and collect me at any time,”

When he gave you a flat look you grinned, nuzzling your nose into his neck. “Of course you can, just say the word and I’ll be there,”

Giving you one last bright smile, he finally detached himself from you, his face lit up in pure excitement.

“Then, how about tomorrow?”

Just like that, the two of you ended up spending as much time as you possibly could together, whether it be due to his father hiring you for the balls he hosted, or when Shouto snuck out of the castle to you. Though you couldn’t see each other every day, on the days that you could see each other, it felt as though you’d never even left the others side. 

You’d spend your days together mostly exploring more of the city, as Shouto had mentioned to you that, being the heir to the throne, he wasn’t allowed to be outside much. You made sure to give him all of the experiences he wanted, even the simple, mundane ones like going to the local bakery to buy some desserts. Other times, the two of you would simply lounge around outside, with Shouto’s head resting against your back as you strummed your lute, softly singing a ballad you had learned on the road. 

Of course, the two of you never really defined your relationship, and, in all honesty, you were afraid to even try to. You knew what you were getting yourself into, you knew that you shouldn’t hold such affection for the Crown Prince, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered whenever he looked at you, how you felt as though you were soaring whenever he touched you, or how you felt as though you were unstoppable whenever he kissed you. Deep in your heart, you knew that this wouldn’t last forever, that he’d eventually have his duties to attend, and you’d simply be a distant memory for him. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about that now. Instead, you simply worried about the smaller things, such as making sure Shouto didn’t hurt himself, or making sure that no one would recognize him. 

You didn’t realize just how short your time with him would be.

On a bright, warm, summer day, you waited outside of the castle walls, hidden away from any of the guards patrolling the outside. Today you were supposed to be going on a picnic with Shouto, perhaps just bask in the sun’s rays. It had been a few days since you’d last seen him, since an old friend of the King was coming to visit, and Shouto was to help entertain them. Of course, you’d been understanding of the situation, simply telling him that you’d wait. So, when the day finally came that one of his most trusted knights had shown up at your door to personally deliver a letter from the prince, asking if you’d join him for a picnic, you were quick to agree.

Resting on the wall, you let out a small sigh. He was running a bit late, but you figured that he was probably just trying to find an excuse to leave his father. As you turned around to face the entrance to the castle, you noticed a carriage coming in at the front. You watched as a familiar head of red and white hair popped out of the carriage, making a small smile cross your lips. However, before you could even breathe, you noticed another figure come out beside him:

A rather regal looking woman had stepped out of the carriage beside him, linking her arm in his as she whispered something to him, giggling. As the two were making their way towards the castle, you watched the mysterious woman stare up at him with a look that you knew very well, holding your breath as you saw her pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You watched as he didn’t push her away, instead allowing her to latch onto him. Humming to yourself, you watched as his eyes wandered around, finally locking with yours, his eyes going comically wide. But you didn’t bother waiting around to see what he’d do. Instead, you simply frowned, making your way back towards the city, deciding that it’d be a lovely day to go and busk in the park. 

For the rest of the day, you found yourself seated on the grassy ground, strumming the lyre that you’d exchanged for your lute at home, singing to your hearts content. You ended up making good tips, and you ended up having an audience by the end of your final song. Once you had finished, you bowed slightly towards the crowd, before moving to head back into town, hoping that you could get a drink before heading home.

However, fate seemed to enjoy playing with your emotions.

Just as you were nearing your favorite tavern, you heard a voice call out to you, followed by a hand catching your wrist. Turning around, you found yourself facing a green haired knight, who looked to be out of breath.

“Sir Midoriya,” You started, turning so you could better face him, “How can I help you?”

He took in a deep gulp of air before shuffling through his belongings, eventually settling on a folded piece of paper, handing it to you. Curiously, you slowly opened the piece of parchment, scoffing as you looked at the location Shouto had wanted you to meet up. Folding the note back up, you handed it back to Midoriya, giving him a smile full of venom.

“Sir Midoriya, please do me a favor and tell His Royal Highness that he can go and fuck himself for all I care,” Giving the man a bow, you entered the tavern, only to quickly turn back and add, “Word for word, please.”

As you slammed the door shut, you thought that would be the end of it, though you supposed that was just wishful thinking. Once the beautiful blue sky of the afternoon had turned into a rosy pink color, you found yourself sitting in one of the more seclusive parts of the tavern, watching the patrons of the bar as you slowly sipped on your drink. You weren’t drunk by any stretch of the word, having not really been in the mood to be throwing up your guts the next day, though as soon as you heard the door open, and your eyes landed on a familiar looking figure, you wished that you had been. 

You watched as mismatched eyes scanned the crowd, eyebrows raising just a hair when his eyes met yours. Figuring that leaving was no longer an option, you waited for the prince to make his way over to you, wanting nothing more than to get this conversation over with. As he finally sat down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours, you took a long swig of your drink, letting out a sigh as you swallowed. 

Setting the mug down, you crossed your arms. “Long way away from home, Your Highness,”

At the sound of his title, he flinched, but he didn’t let that deter him, “(Y/N), let me explain—“

“What’s there to explain?” You questioned, your head tilting in almost a mocking manner, “I get it, you’re a prince. You were going to marry some rich girl eventually, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“(Y/N)—“

“It’s not like we had a chance anyways, it was all just supposed to be fun, right?” You asked, putting on a guarded smile.

He sighed, and you could tell you were getting under his skin. “Would you let me explain?”

When you didn’t say anything, he took it as his chance to go. “I didn’t even know of her until a few days ago. She’s the daughter of one of the most influential Lord’s in the kingdom, and apparently my father made a deal with him, that’s why I’ve been with her,” He reached out to hold your hand, inwardly letting out a breath of relief when you didn’t pull away, “I never wanted this to just be ‘fun,’ and you know that,”

You let out a laugh, though it’s devoid of any humor. “I didn’t think that you were hiding some secret wife, Your Highness, but her being here just reminds me of how different we are. I’m not royalty, and there’s certainly no way that your father would let you be with some random commoner, so is it really worth it to prolong something that’s bound to break?”

“You don’t have to be royalty, I could always,” He trailed off, but you knew what he was getting at.

“Do you really think he’d let you get away that easily?” You asked, and when he didn’t respond you continued, “Besides, you shouldn’t throw away the rest of your life for some random bard, Your Highness. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,”

Pulling your hand away from his, you stood from your seat, giving him a small bow as you walked towards the front door, but not before whispering to his knight to take him back. As you opened the entrance of the tavern, you looked back at the prince you left behind, your heart cracking slightly as you touched the locket on your neck. Smiling, you let the door shut behind you, closing that chapter of your life.

About four months after the last time you saw the Prince, you heard news that he was to marry one of the Lady’s from a dukedom not too far away from the kingdom, one that had a monopoly over some profitable trade routes. Though the King insisted it was a marriage of love, word quickly spread amongst the townsfolk that the Prince was not particularly fond of his bride-to-be, but none of them dared to speak it. 

A year later, the Prince had married his “sweetheart,” and you had found another. While you loved them dearly, you still couldn’t deny the hole in your heart, one that longed to be filled, yet would never be completely whole. 

One night, when your lover had long since gone to bed, you sat out in the night, letting the cool breeze wash over you. As you looked up to the stars, you could faintly make out a constellation of two lovers, and, as your hand went to touch the locket sitting above your heart, you prayed to any deity that would listen to you, pleading with them to bring you back to your prince in the next life, and that next time, the two of you could finally be happy.

Little did you know, that in a castle not too far away from you, a certain prince was looking at the very same stars in the sky, praying for the same thing.

[lumau]

beyond reach

Missing scene:

After the abrupt end of events in The Invisible Library, Vale is left behind.

Singh looked around at the destruction surrounding them, the ripped up flooring, the upturned furniture, the bodies… He had seen his fair share of catastrophes and scenes of crime in his time of service. The horrific state of this former office could still somehow be explained by- well, some sort of explosion, perhaps? And while it was not a big surprise to find the latest head of the Iron Brotherhood dead amongst this mess, it would be extremely difficult to explain why her remains were completely lacking of intestines, bones, blood or flesh.

The carcasses of silverfish that littered the floor were just as odd an occurrence as the previously reported stuffed animals that had sprung to life at the Museum just about an hour ago. Not even to mention the sightings of what witnesses described as a dragon circling in the sky above the British Library.

And he was actually not at all surprised that his friend Vale stood in the middle of the debris, dusty, ruffled and bloody, with an uncharacteristic distant look on his usually sharp face. The Vale he knew was in his element when faced with a scene of crime – the more inexplicable, the better. This detective did not seem to feel inspired to search the room, crawl around on his knees to fish for shrapnel in the dust or snap at careless officers who might wander across possible tracks. When faced with strange events, he had rarely seem him so clearly lacking sprite and almost… defeated? Maybe that.

He touched his friend’s elbow, and thereby snapped him out of his staring blankly ahead.

“Mr. Vale. You told me, the problem was resolved? That the, ehm… perpetrator behind these occurrences has been defeated?”

Vale straightened his shoulders, regaining some of his usually grand air.

“Indeed, that’s what I said. And yes, the criminal has been fought off, sadly he disappeared before an arrest could be attempted. My understanding is that he will have left our... domain for good. As apart from this unfortunate explosion you can’t hold any charges against him, an overall success, one might say.”

Singh frowned. None of this made sense, neither the destruction to the room, the lack of a body of the criminal nor the absolute absence of their strange… visitors. And Vale’s whole demeanour and tone did not match his words. Whatever had happened here, there must be more to it than his friend could convey right now, apparently, in front of the other officers and panicked library director.

“Very well, I thank you for promptly alerting me about this event. I have to ask you to meet me later, to give a full report of the event you witnessed. You may leave for now.”

They shared a brief look of silent understanding, Vale nodded, and strode off, debris and insects crunching underneath his soles. Singh’s gaze followed him, before focussing back to the matters at hand.

Right. To work.

It went without saying, that they would meet in their currently agreed upon meeting spot, where they came together in disguise whenever they had to discuss secret or private matters.

The pub was already brimming when Singh entered, and after a stop at the bar he found his way to the corner table that Vale occupied, bend low over his beer and newspaper.

A few moments passed until they could be sure to have fallen off anyone’s radar and blended into the general atmosphere of the room.

“Now? What in heaven’s name went on here today?” Singh leaned slightly forward across the table. He had had a long day and his head was still swimming when he thought of the potential cover stories he had mapped out already. Being friends with London’s Great Detective had certainly always been useful and exciting, but never had they encountered such strange events before.

Vale stayed hunched over his drink without looking up, but began to tell Singh in a low voice all that had happened. It was no use to interrupt with questions, as there was no way the detective would leave out relevant facts. His recollection was fast, brisk and entirely sober, apart from a few small waves of emotions that showed in a little twitch in the others face or a tremor to his voice. To any outsider, they might simply discuss current news or politics.

When he had finished, Singh took his chance to inquire more in depth about some of the wilder parts- some Vale chose rather not to elaborate more on, especially in connection to that Zeppelin ride, and Singh knew better than to prod him. The whole tale was incredible enough.

“I can’t believe that they just left? Including Madame Bradamant,” Singh shook his head, and took a pretended sip from his beer, “She did not even return those stolen books, and we shall accept that she just went beyond our reach? Frustrating as it is, I can’t deny I am relieved this extremely peculiar business seems to be done with now.”

He did not get an answer, and looking up, he saw that Vale was brooding in a sombre manner that was heavily amplified by his faux grimy beard and make up. This was not the triumphant, exuberant, satisfied Vale he usually found after solving a case. A thought occurred to him.

“Listen, could it be that you are in distress about your new friends leaving?” he inquired tentatively.

Vale snorted. “Friends? Hardly. You should know me better than to think I would so easily care for casual acquaintances!”

Singh raised an eye brow, taken aback by the harsh reaction. He could not help but feel somewhat hurt by that statement himself. Vale must have noticed his reaction, and he seemed to tame his mood a bit.

“Good man, I did not mean to devalue our connection. You know I count you as one my most trusted allies.” He took another swig, and stared into his almost empty glass. “But tell me, how could I feel anything but antipathy towards total strangers who come into our city and bring with them a wave of illogical, supernatural occurrences and leave a trail of destruction, before simply vanishing with no sense of accountability for their actions?”

There was a passionate undertone to his voice, that did not match the detached attitude his former words wanted to convey. Maybe there was more behind this whole affair than he had thought, Singh mused.

“How can you even suggest that I might consider these people my friends, when all they clearly care about is their own dubious agenda? Strongrock is merely a young agent and following his orders, but did it seem to you that Miss Winters was acknowledging anything or anyone beyond the scope of her mission?”

“Listen, I am the first to condemn any stranger who brings their personal quarrels to our city, as I have to deal with the mess afterwards. So, if you ask me, good riddance!”

Singh pretended to take another sip of his drink. If this went on much longer, he’d have to find a way to let it vanish somehow to not attract suspicion. “But are you not a bit harsh in your judgement there? After all, they were the victims of a traitorous and highly dangerous criminal at large.”

Singh was used to being very honest with Vale, as far as his profession allowed. Anything but would not pass the detective’s sensors anyway. He now felt he was slowly sliding towards thin ice though. On the one hand, Vale was not a person to be generally open to discuss personal matters, and usually didn’t seem to have any reason why he might want to either. On the other hand, Singh had known Vale for long enough to know his mood swings and what they often entailed. The detective functioned best under a certain amount of stress and with enough mystery to occupy his ever active mind. In those querulous times between cases, or moments of general stagnation, he was prone to self-destructive patterns and had his ways to cope. Singh knew how he tended to deal with those phases, and he did not approve.

Just now, during these last days, he had seen his friend flourish after a longer, rather inactive time. He had already been worried that the detective might default to the morphine use again - when the ominous cat burglar case began and shortly after the two strangers turned up in his London.

These few days since their arrival had completely changed Vale’s state of sullen apathy, just the kind of riddle his mind needed to not run empty – and now, without a moments notice, they were gone from this world and beyond their reach. Singh could understand the detective’s frustration at having to accept an end to a case that left them without conviction, while it happened in their city, matters had been taken out of their hands. And Vale would even have to report back to his mother that he had been unable to retrieve the stolen manuscript.

A shadow of worry crossed Singh’s mind, as he wondered what this sudden turn of events might do to Vale, and although it was against his usual better judgement, he found a softer tone and decided to push further.

“After all that you went through with Miss Winters and Mr. Strongrock, don’t you feel you deserve better than a brief farewell? I would not blame you for feeling bothered by how this whole affair ended.”

Vale seemed to consider, then emptied his glass in one last swig.

“I must admit to some resentment. Not towards Miss Winters or Mr Strongrock, but myself. All the evidence was there, I had to know that they would finish their matters in the way suitable to their agenda, and then leave for… that Library, without looking back.”

With a somewhat dramatic sigh, Vale stood up from his chair and looked down at the inspector.

“And yet, I have entertained some hope, that clouded my judgement. You see, even I am a fool sometimes.”

“Honestly, I’d rather forget what we learned about those other worlds and that Library and all… Who knows, what else might enter London? I don’t like any of this. Not at all.”

Singh shook his head and rose as well, and with a nod, Vale let him pass to lead the way towards the exit. The implications of potential new threats did worry him, yes, just like the strangely afflicted state of mind his friend was showing. He would keep an eye on him, and, although this was not a very suitable thought for a policeman, he hoped that a new case would come up soon, one even more enthralling, to occupy his mind and distract him from his dark temper.

[sero-sphere]

Writing Prompt : Serial Killer Tomura Shigaraki

listen so i know its been awhile. alot of things happened. i got a new job, my computer broke, my computer got fixed....bnha season 4 ended. Tiger King was a thing, and obviously quarantine.

also sorry this is what i decided to post first. youve all been warned!

Prompt: a serial killer who finds their victims through dating apps has finally chosen their next target. they've been texting for a while and had planned what would've been a fatal first date, but then the country went on lockdown. the killer keeps in touch figuring they might as well keep around another potential victim except...they’re kinda starting to like this one.

(Serial killer Tomura x f reader)

Warnings: murder, non-con everything? , mention of rape? idk its bad he kills people. maybe a little hybristophilia if you look real close.  (pls just remember none of this is real and proceed with caution....thnks)

1 week before quarantine:

It had only been three days since you re-downloaded tinder off of a whim. There had been some pretty interesting matches up until this point, but you were flip flopping between two guys mainly. One was tall with dark hair. He was covered in burns that only seemed to add to his allure. He was hot, figuratively and literally. The other was another kind of mystery all together. He had denied all your requests for any more pictures of himself. He obviously had the standard few shown in his bio, but those were mostly all body pics. It’s not like he was even that big, his muscles were no doubt toned as anything, but, like the first boy, he was littered in scars that intrigued you. The chemistry the two of you shared seemed stronger in your opinion than with the first. You were dying to see him in person, after all you had only been able to see so much during your facetime calls.

After some time, you finally narrowed it down. You decided to take a risk and go with what was behind door number 2. Tomura Shigaraki.

 1 day before quarantine:

After a few days of chatting, the two of you had teased each other so much you couldn’t stand it anymore. You were just dying for him to ask to see you in person. You and your friends had stopped going to the clubs recently, and you just hoped your now empty schedule would line up with his at some point this week. Everyone around you was getting sicker and sicker so the club was definitely a no go for now. Plus, with the way you looked, it might be a bit dangerous. Still, you hoped to play your cards just right, and finally get him to give in. You decided a little impromptu face time session was the next step. Removing your sweatshirt, leaving you in only a tank top, you grabbed your phone.

-----------------------------------------    ≧◠‿◠≦✌    -----------------------------------------

Halfway through the call you were starting to tune him out when you heard him snap at you. “What are you paying attention to? Those eyes should be on me.”

Bashfully, you turned back to your phone. “Sorry, I mean, have you seen the news? Not only do they talk about the virus 24/7, they also talk about those murders all the time.”

“Oh…yeah?” He hardened slightly at the unintended mention of him.

“Yeah, I mean if the virus doesn’t take me out…I’m pretty sure this guy might. All the victims look almost exactly like me.”

He really was a sucker for your innocence. “Oh, I guess he must have a type...”

“Yeah it’s quite interesting.” Your eyes flicked up to your screen, then back to the T.V

“Interesting?” Shigaraki was genuinely confused.

Returning your gaze to your phone, you finally answered him. “Yeah I think so, why you don’t?”

Interesting was the last thing people called him. Freak, psycho, yeah, but interesting? “I’m not sure…why, are you interested in him?”

“Well, you just said he has a type…I just wonder what it is about girls like me that make him go crazy….I bet you he has mommy issues!” You said with a giggle.

“Hah, mommy issues…”

“Either that or he’s got one of those weird brother sister relationships…maybe if I pretend he’d let me live.” You moaned slightly into the speaker. “Oh, oniichan~”

He coughed to stop himself from moaning. “Maybe it’s a bit of both.” Admittedly you did look like his mom and sister. More similar to which, was the real question.

“Oh, you think?… Who doesn’t have family issues these days….”

He was silent as you continued to theorize about him unknowingly.  He couldn’t stop himself from asking “What would you say to him, ya know? You said you look like his victims…haven’t you thought about if it was to happen to you?”

“Hmm….. I guess I’d ask him why?”

“Why what?”

“Why kill them? Like I wonder what happened in his life for him to be able to do something like that?”

“That’s what you would say? Not scream for help?” All of his past victims screamed, God he hated that. That’s why he ended up shoving his cock down their throats half the time. Anything to get them to shut up.

“If I’m going to die anyway why not take the opportunity to get to know him a little. Might sound morbid, but he doesn’t let people get away.”

“Seems like you know a lot about this guy?” He asked probingly.

“I’ve been curious, nothing really going on in the world other than this virus...”

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1 week into quarantine:

After that conversation Tomura became intrigued as to what you would think when you finally realized who he was. If you would really be brave enough to ask him ‘why’, right before he decided to take your life.  He was looking forward to the day you would finally agree to leave your house again. You were in the middle of a global pandemic after all. Until then, he had his ways of continuing his mission.

He started by hacking into the local hospital records. Truth be told he wasn’t ready to die, or be caught yet, so every week he would hack away for the names of the women who had recently been tested, and were found to be negative for the virus. He then sifted through their social media for girls that fit his profile. There weren’t too many, and he had to settle for a few that were a bit out of his age range.

A few weeks went by, the two of you keeping in touch every night. Tomura still finding suitable replacements until you were finally in his grasps. He didn’t want to give himself away by dragging you out, there were no excuses he could even think of at this point. It was better to wait, at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

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3 weeks into quarantine:

“Victim? Victim, honey you’re my fifth one….”

After the deed was done, and he was just about to head out of there, Shigarakis phone started to ring. He was going to ignore it at first until he saw it was you.  It was rather unusual for you to call this early. You both kept to a strictly late night schedule. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Hey…” He answered, huffing into the phone. He was ashamedly out of breath after everything that just transpired.

“Oh hey, I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

“Well. I did…so what’s up?”

“Why do you sound so out of breath? What were you jerking off…” You said teasingly.

“No, I was about to though…” He wasn’t lying, he usually goes home to finish himself. Maybe now was the chance to take a little risk.

“Wanna help me get there?” Yup, he was doing this.

“Yeah, of course I do.” You replied, unaware of what the person on the other end of the phone was really about to do.

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3 weeks and 2 days into quarantine:

“Hey Tomu, you hear about what the killer left behind this time?” You all but nearly shouted, as soon as Shigaraki accepted your facetime call.

“Hmm, what was it?” If he had to take a guess, he bet he could figure out what it was.

“He came all over her face, he’s never done that before!…do you think he killed her before or after?”

“Probably before…” Probably? Yeah right, he knew for a fact he killed her before your little call to him.

“Yeah you’re probably right. They said this one was a bit older, I wonder if that helped him out more…ya’ know cause his supposed mommy issues.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the case…”

He couldn’t really tell you it was you, who indeed got him there. Staring at that body that somewhat resembled you, while you were saying all those things to him. He really couldn’t wait to have you. He usually wasn’t a man of patience, so he couldn’t figure out why he hasn’t actually killed you yet. He kept making up excuses but deep down, he knew he was growing quite fond of you. He couldn’t help that you were stroking his ego every time he did something riskier and you would comment on it.  

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4 weeks into quarantine:

 The last girl was different. They no longer felt right to him. He knew he had to have you. He wondered if he would miss you after it was done. Was he going to fuck you before or after? You weren’t going to be alive to theorize with him afterwards, that made him a little sad. He picked up his phone and shot you a text.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 110

I am so excited that so many people liked Nixe’s appearance in the last chapter. I seriously, seriously cannot credit anyone but @dierotenixe and @catolicabuena for that match made in heaven.

For this chapter, I want to thank my beta readers, @zazen-rabbit, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog. Bael gets credit for both the story and the person who tells it, while Zazen-rabbit and Charly get credit for the byplay of Tyche and Charly, because I really do believe that is how it would work out if they met in real life.

P.S. I am in the U.S, so if you have early voting in your state, please go vote now so you are exposed to fewer people. If you are still able to register to vote, please do. If you can’t vote in person, please vote by mail-in ballot and check local regulations on how to turn it in.

After our resident mermaid vanished with a near-silent splash, we made our way back to the campsite. Shortly, we were carving into the gigantic vegetables Sam had grown for us.  While some - like Conor and Coffee - had no issue scooping out the contents, I was soon leaning so far over that I had to kick my legs to get them back on the ground. Maverick started to laugh one time, but a glare from Tyche killed it before it could get very far.

My ribs were starting to hurt from bouncing up on the rim of the pumpkin, when suddenly I heard my sister start swearing.  When she finally stopped, I saw her glance at Charly and arch a brow.  “You thinkin’ what I’m thinking?” she asked cryptically.

Apparently Charly understood completely. “Yep,” was the only response before both climbed on top of their respective pumpkins and started ripping out the contents until they could stand inside to get the rest.  I was actually jealous…. There was no way I would be able to do the same thing, seeing as I was about half-again the size of my sister, at least.

Instead, I decided to take a break and let those better suited to hollowing out our victims take care of the work.  I wasn’t the only one, I noticed, as I sat next to Arthur and took the water he handed me.  “I would ask when we start telling ghost stories again,” he ventured, staring past the light emitters as Simon and Grey approached, “but something tells me Nixe got a head start on all that.”

Simon shuddered as he crossed his legs to take a seat. “Shouldn’t there be a rule against Sirens singing spooky songs about drowning people?”

The three of us stared blankly, trying to process that question.  “Simon.” Grey spoke so slowly that I felt like I was hearing them through molasses.  I had honestly never heard my fellow Councillor sound so uncertain of what they were saying. “I hope your suggestion is meant to be humorous, as even I would find myself profoundly disappointed to find the closest thing I will ever know to a merperson, singing in the middle of the night, during a camping trip, ostensibly during a holiday season dedicated to being scared, and find they were singing about anything else.”  The sight of them slowly ticking off each part of that scenario was too much to bear, and my laughter distracted everyone else in our group.

“Are we talking about the mermaid song?” Charly asked as she took a seat and started digging through the carrier with our dinner. As she started passing out hand-held meat pies, she glanced at Simon in confusion. “I noticed that last time…  Simon, you hate scary stories.  I get not knowing last time that we were going to tell any, but I made a point to specifically mention about - I dunno, every time I had an excuse to - leading up to this trip.”  Politely left off was the implied question: So why did you come?

He hung his head and shrugged before Conor gently hit him on the shoulder and grinned. “Leave him alone, Charly. If you aren’t scared, what’s the point?”  Tossing a wink to Maverick, Conor handed a pie to him before handing one to Simon. “Just keep in mind, they’re all stories, no matter what anyone else tells you.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Or they were true once, but it was a very long time ago, back on Earth.” He ignored the glares from Conor and Maverick as he contradicted their attempts to calm Simon. “Once, when I was on my own in the After, I was looking for books - Sophia, don’t look at me like that, I didn’t use most of them for kindling - and I found this old journal stuck behind several encyclopedias. And when I say it was an old journal, I mean really old.  It dated from around the time of the United States Civil War.”

“Most of it was pretty average, everyday stuff, even nearly two-hundred years later.  But that last entry…” He shook his head like he was trying to forget something. “I don’t even know what his name was, he obviously never mentioned it in a journal he never meant anyone else to read. But I think even I would have been terrified if that happened to me.”

After a prolonged pause, I elbowed him. “Seriously? You aren’t going to tell us what it said?” I scowled, knowing how aware he was that bringing something up and then not telling me would drive me crazy, even if I was better off not knowing. “You can’t tell Simon that some stories are true, bring up a story, then not tell it.”

Somewhat smugly, he looked like he was about to argue when a small knife landed between his feet with a thunk.  Snapping his head up in the direction it came from, Tyche and Charly looked suspiciously oblivious to the projectile.  With a tug, Arthur freed it before giving it a once over. “Give this back to your sister later, but if another one shows up, I’m not telling the story.” Handing me the knife, he started reciting what he had read in the journal.

“My old friend Kilmore had sent me a letter, just as my wife and I were attempting to find a suitable home for our family - she was pregnant, you see. He asked for my help in a small matter, ridding him of a dangerous and unhinged tenant, and while I’d heard some troubling rumors about how Kilmore dealt with people who caused trouble on his lands, I was eager - he swore to me that he would give my wife and I the cottage he was evicting this man from once it was cleaned if I was willing to give him a hand. The land around the cottage was lovely, idyllic, and thus, despite our misgivings about helping him with his dirty work, my wife and I headed to my old friend’s land.”

“Kilmore was a widower, but his sister lived with him still, and while she and my wife enjoyed one another’s company, I went out with him to go deal with the tenant. I saw a great deal of strange markings on the trees around the cottage - strange, dark symbols and sigils. Kilmore rolled his eyes at them, and rapped sharply on the door. 

"Sir,” he called. “You’ve not been paying rent, and you’ve been setting fire to parts of my woods, and only last week you assaulted one of my groundskeepers - the poor fellow was hurt. I’ve had enough of your boorish activity, and am going to cast you off my lands.”

“The large fellow in the cabin - strangely proportioned, with a massive black dog sitting at his feet, made no move. Kilmore spoke again. “I am speaking to you, you lout.”

“The man made no reply, but this time simply stood up, grabbed a powerful bow of some strange white wood from the wall, nocked an arrow and sent it winging through the open window by which Kilmore and I stood. 

“Kilmore cursed, and spoke again. “Very well, you utter madman. We’ll have to smoke you out.”

“With that, we set about blocking the man’s chimney and windows and set a fire near the open one - a fire that quickly spread and caught part of the cabin ablaze. Kilmore cursed, and assured me that he’d pay for my wife and I to remain in an apartment in the manor proper until the cottage was rebuilt, but the man came out, staggering and swearing in a tongue we didn’t know, and swiping at us with a hideously curved knife before Kilmore struck him hard on the temple with a cane.

“The man spat, still speaking that strange tongue, and then abruptly started speaking in a civilized language. “My dog, my dog!” We realized then that the dog hadn’t emerged - and when we realized that nothing could have survived that inferno, Kilmore began attempting to apologize, but the man simply struck him across the mouth, said a little more in his own language, then screamed madly and fled into the woods.”

I started to open my mouth to insist this couldn’t be the entire story… Nothing like that would have terrified me, much less Arthur, after everything that was survived in the After.  When I opened my mouth, before any words could come out, he shoved a second meat pie between my teeth to stop the objection.  Even Coffee smiled, despite the story, as Arthur continued. “I was skipping the boring stuff in between, because I doubt anyone here cares about how many barrels of ale they made, or how much apple cider they kept to drink fresh instead of setting aside to ferment.  Although, either there were several Missus Grossmans, or the woman was as fertile as a rabbit… Anyway.”

“It was a year later when my wife and I finally moved into the rebuilt cottage. The servants helping us bring our things in kept stepping strangely over the threshold, and my wife, our baby swaddled in a blue blanket in her arms, asked why.

“The madman who lived here - he buried his dog over the threshold. Laid a curse. We’re trying to avoid waking it.” I ignored the commoner’s superstition - my wife and I were too learned to fear such things.

“Still, my wife heard strange growling that evening, waking me about it repeatedly, and I didn’t know what to make of it. The next day, Kilmore and I set out for a short time - the madman had well and truly crossed a line, murdering a stableboy with that same knife we’d seen, and we went to hunt him down.

“We finally did so, the crazed man stumbling and swearing at us that the spirits of the wronged would have their vengeance, even as he charged and Kilmore’s flintlock roared. The man still managed to drag himself over and bury his knife in my friend, who the servants helped back to the house while a doctor was summoned. I was told to go home by Kilmore’s sister.

“When I arrived, my wife was screaming, sobbing wildly and desperately tearing at the threshold of our house. “What’s wrong!?”

“The dog. The dog. it…it took George! We have to get him back!”

“I didn’t know what to make of that, and cast desperately around my house for my son, but I didn’t see him…just large, muddy pawprints and I joined my wife in the mad scramble at the threshold..only to see a speck of color that I frantically clawed at, recovering a scrap of fabric - a bloodstained shred of George’s blue blanket.

“At the sight of it, I knew, and my wife knew, that our son was dead. We couldn’t stay in the cottage after that, and we left. My wife continued hearing padding, the breathing of a large dog, occasionally a growl, but I never did. About a year later, she told me that I had to go to Kilmore, see what he could do to perhaps put the spirit of the dog and his mad master to rest. I arrived at Kilmore’s door, and rang it. 

“The butler answered, not my friend, nor his sister. I asked after him, and the Butler looked at me oddly. “My lord, Kilmore’s been dead for some time now.”

“Did his wounds from the madman’s blade fester?”

“They seem to have. They fully recovered, but his sister swore one night she heard a dreadful growling, and a snarl, and when she went in, the scars had burst open and rot had poured out.”

“I shuddered at the thought. “Then may I see my friend’s sister, and give her my condolences?”

“The butler shook his head. “No sir. She’s given orders that she’s not to be disturbed. She isn’t well - believes she’s being haunted by a demon.”

“What kind of demon?”

“She speaks of a massive black dog, but it’s little more than the grief-stricken raving of a woman who’s lost her brother to tragedy.”

“I left, shaken, knowing that the curse would continue. It’s been another two years since then. My wife died, mercifully, a few weeks ago, tormented by growls and padding in the night until her mind and body could bear it no longer, and her heart gave out. I have never seen the demon dog pursuing us, though I got word some months ago that Kilmore’s sister was found barefoot and in her nightgown in the woods, with her throat torn out by something. 

“I hear padding now, though. Sometimes the growls. I know it has finally come for me. And even now I hear scratching at my door. Soon it will be inside.”

The clearing rang with silence. After a few minutes, Arthur cleared his throat again.  “Unsurprisingly, that is where the journal stopped. There were more pages, but what wasn’t chewed was clearly blank.  Termites, or mice maybe?”

I was astounded to hear Simon speak more calmly than I had ever known him to in my entire time on the Ark. “If Grandma Kim and Lyric suddenly decided to take a stroll in the woods, I am going home and none of you can stop me.”

<< Prev   Masterlist  Next >>

[ddaenghoney]

chapter ten

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): topic of unbalanced-relationship dynamic is brought up, but it’s not,,,,.,. ,real? ik that doesn’t make a lot of sense lol im sorry; yoongi is a sweetie but this time getting flustered

Word count: 5439

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

You awaken from the sound of loud greetings in the distance. As your eyes crack open from the muted light that slips between the sheer curtains, you squeeze tighter onto the pillow that ended up in your arms sometime throughout the evening. The voice continues to blare from the otherside of the apartment, but now it’s laughing contently, doing nothing to help your head stir more conscious. You simply lie there under the cocoon of blankets, thinking nothing other than the fact that you were thirsty.

When you finally sit upright, the pillow remains in your grasp. A tiny grumble escapes your lips at the discomfort of trying to wiggle your legs free of the blankets when they were dressed in jeans you had been wearing the previous day. It’s then that you catch a glance at the clock on the nightstand, and you’re able to fully wake up as you note it reading a time close to noon.

You groan at yourself for not remembering to set an alarm, and then you recall leaving your phone in the other room anyways. Another disgruntled curse dribbles out for the forgetfulness, hoping that Yoongi didn’t have other things planned today that you’ve now made him late for. You’re out the bedroom door in seconds, peeking down the hall as though there is a need to be hidden. The voice from before registers in your eardrums sounding familiar and bright, and you finally take into account that there is indeed a guest of Yoongi’s here that you’re about to have to interrupt.

But your eyes find Yoongi’s person way down the hall as he exits from the kitchen area. His head turns towards you, seemingly startled for a moment when he realizes you’re there and your hand barely waves in return as a greeting.

“You don’t have to hide back there, you know? It’s just Hoseok.” He says gesturing you over with his hand as he then takes a sip of water from a glass.

“I’m not a ‘just’, how dare you.” Hoseok speaks with an appalled tone as you stalk into the room meekly, finding him sitting on the corner of the couch you’d been in the night before. “Ah, hello again.”

“Hi,” You nod your head, feeling embarrassed that you’re still so dazed from sleeping for such a long time, and then you also take into account your appearance likely looking quite unflattering. You bite your lip. “Sorry, I’m interrupting.”

“You’re not at all, he just showed up without saying anything.” Yoongi cuts in as he turns to go back into the kitchen. “Typed in the code on his own and everything. I thought we were going to get killed.”

“He’s dramatic.” Hoseok smiles towards you after rolling his eyes at Yoongi’s sarcastic statements. You nod softly, a tiny polite smile matching it. Your throat feels so dehydrated. “Didn’t realize his girlfriend would be here too, or I would’ve called.” He turns his attention to his phone all the sudden, likely receiving a text. As the title comes into your mind, your head starts to arrange replies suitable for a girlfriend, or to further the charade along in general. Though the implications of being at Yoongi’s apartment in the morning-- in his clothing nonetheless make you stay quiet. Your voice would surely sound awkward.

“He’s just teasing you.” Yoongi says as he walks towards you from the kitchen, another glass of water in hand. “He knows you’re not my actual girlfriend.”

Your shoulders relax at Yoongi’s words, having unknowingly been made a little on edge to have to continue the act so quickly after waking up. Receiving the glass, you greedily lap it up, relief flooding your throat as you try and recall when the day before you had the last drink of water. “Good. I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Yoongi smiles at your relieved candor and also the way that you practically inhaled the drink, then his head turns back to Hoseok who speaks up. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that; thought he told you that I knew.” You shake your head about to tell him that it’s not a big deal, until Hoseok beats you to a response. “I just came over to see what happened between him and my ex.”

“Drama seeker.” Yoongi teases, though he rubs the back of his head, smile looking contrastingly annoyed at his memory of the night before. The change in disposition makes your lips cast down in the smallest frowns, knowing that you should’ve pressed him more about it because of how much it seemed to bother Yoongi to run into Seulgi. If it weren’t for the onset of exhaustion that set in after all of the frustrated tears, you would have. “She wants me to do more for you. Help you with your comeback.”

You eyebrows furrow slightly. Considering how standoffish Seulgi was towards Yoongi, and how obviously she ignored Hoseok entirely, you find it odd that her demands of Yoongi are seemingly well-intended. Though as Hoseok groans on the couch, hand rubbing his face, you think there’s more depth in those sentences that their face value.

Yoongi’s hand toys with his hair still, averting eyes back to you as he suddenly appears to recall, “Oh, you don’t have plans today, do you? I can drive you back to your place, if you need to be somewhere.”

“Actually,” You start, somewhat hesitant despite Yoongi’s presence lacking anything distant or intimidating. Still, it could be rude to involve yourself with his affairs, but you want to help him if you’re able. “If it’s okay, I wanted to know what happened too.” You say with a small voice, before continuing a little louder, quicker, “But because I was worried about it-- Not just because I wanted to hear gossip, or something.”

“Okay,” Yoongi’s bits of chuckling make your chest rumble free of nervousness. Instead somehow giving you a secure feeling that expands as he nods. “That’s right, you were worried yesterday when it happened.” You nod sincerely, biting your lip as Yoongi’s lip curl to smile softly. “Seulgi doesn’t really like me much.” He says frankly while a nod of his gestures for you to sit in the armchair beside the couch.

“To put it lightly,” Hoseok grumbles with a bitter voice as Yoongi sits centrally on the couch with him, “But why she doesn’t like you is just to save her own face.” He says towards Yoongi then turns his head to you as he explains his point, “She blames Yoongi for why I got kicked out of my company, even though it was my fault-- but between Yoongi and her it’s definitely her fault though. Yoongi didn’t have anything to do with it.”

You notice Yoongi’s face avoid looking towards Hoseok as he speaks, instead constricting in little bits of confliction you believe. Evidently not completely agreeing with what Hoseok tells you, and the thought of it confuses you more, because you can’t rationalize Yoongi taking part in Hoseok’s removal. It’s clear the friendship between them is strong, no animosity whatsoever-- even when there could have sprouted envy from the scandal of the year prior. Hoseok isn’t suspicious of Yoongi in the slightest, or irritated that he’s still successful while Hoseok himself struggles to start over. So it’s a wonder of why Yoongi appears unsatisfied with how Hoseok relates him to the issue.

“Why would she blame Yoongi?” You don’t think anything wrong of your question until Yoongi also looks towards you, both his eyes and Hoseok reflecting shock that confuses you. Then the tone of your words play over in your head and you realize you spoke like you were offended, baffled. Defensive of Yoongi.

“Because,” Hoseok begins, voice still taken back slightly, though the hollow smile of his lips let you think he’s humored by you more than anything. “She doesn’t think he did enough to help me out of what happened when I got kicked out. Did you keep up with it at all? I probably sound like I’m over-selling it, but a lot of articles went out about it.” He continues right along, casually like the situation doesn’t affect him any longer. Perhaps the period of stress already passed while Hoseok only focuses now on overcoming it.

You nod gently, wracking around your brain to recall the majority of the facts that were presented, “You both got caught on a date and your relationship got outted.” You don’t beat around, though your tone is simply factual. “I didn’t pay much attention to be honest though. I was kind of busy back then with my job.” You add on as you recall many nights during that time spent crammed into your home studio working on two different albums at a time, and only getting away from the job when Jimin came over periodically to make sure you took breaks.

“That was practically all that happened.” You startle from your thoughts when Yoongi gripes his opinion aloud, glaring towards the coffee table while Hoseok beside him shrugs, relaxing back into the cushion, like he knows Yoongi isn’t finished. “They were just dating privately, the public found out, and that’s the only truth of it all that happened. Everything else in the media was complete crap.”

“Admittedly,” Hoseok cuts in while Yoongi groans, fiddling with his unkempt hair. “That is basically all that happened between Seulgi and I.” You nod at Hoseok’s intention to soothe over the situation, while your eyes remain trailed rather apologetically towards Yoongi who appears far more irritated by the subject than Hoseok. “But she lied to them to save her and her group’s image.” You watch Yoongi sigh at the end of Hoseok’s softly spoken sentence, frowning more at stirring these memories. You interrupt gently,

“You both don’t have to tell me-- it obviously bothers you-”

Hoseok shakes his head, “I don’t mind. Besides when you pity me by the end of this all, it’ll feel worth it to explain.” His smile is incredibly teasing, tone joking, trying to alleviate any of the heavy atmosphere because truly Hoseok doesn’t feel the remnants of the past as painfully as he used to. You try to match his expression with a tiny smile of your own, but Yoongi doesn’t believe the sight as he bites his lip. Feeling a little bad for bothering you with the messy memories. “She basically told the media that-- because I’ve had my career longer than she did, that I manipulated her into the relationship.”

Hoseok nearly chuckles as you raise your eyebrows in shock at the words. Imagining how scrutinized the entirety of his career could’ve become with a malleable statement like that, you find it shocking to say the least. Even though you can’t say for sure, you assume the two of them had a nice relationship, and for Seulgi to cast all blame onto Hoseok in such a harmful manner, you’re stunned into silence, only reacting by your expression.

“She and I both knew each other since we were trainees.” Hoseok says, stopping as you scoff. Completely thrown off by how Seulgi was able to completely toss Hoseok aside, and say something so damaging-- when it’s clearly wrong if they’ve known each other from before fame. You’re continuously baffled, glancing towards Yoongi who looks at you just nodding his head to assert that what Hoseok said is true. “But anyways, I guess now that I’m trying to have a comeback, she wants to ease her guilt by getting our dear Yoongi here involved in her place.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, sighing because the thought alone tires him. He’s so fed up with all of the things she’s done to Hoseok that now extend as far as himself like he’s collateral. The extension only serves to further bother Yoongi about everything that Hoseok struggles to go through in order to fix the damage she caused.

“I don’t like her.” You say in the short silence, voice entirely disgusted, “No offense to your old feelings, Hoseok, but she sounds awful.” Yoongi can’t help smiling at his lap while you talk with contempt, finding your bluntness in the midst of heightened emotions consistent from the past instances he’s seen. Thinking it’s somehow an endearing quality.

“No offense taken. I don’t have feelings for her like that anymore anyways.” Hoseok smiles wide at your candor, happy at least that the mood isn’t so bleak anymore.

“Didn’t you say anything to defend yourself in the press though?”

“Well,” His smile crumbles, shifting into a more embarrassed and remorseful disposition when Hoseok rubs his neck sheepishly, “I was kind of stupid back then, and thought I was doing good for her by letting most of it go uncontested.” He chuckles hollowly, and you realize that this is the part of the memories he’s evidently not completely moved on from. You bite your lip, internally apologetic to the question. “That’s my own fault though.”

“No,” Yoongi cuts in quietly, yet firmly. His head shakes softly back and forth. “It’s not.”

You stop yourself from smiling fondly at Yoongi’s stance between Hoseok and an onslaught of self-blame. Entirely parallel of how he’s taken care of you through definitive speech assuring you that the trials you face aren’t create from your own error, Yoongi now glares at the idea that Hoseok put into the air. Obstinate against it when Hoseok tries to speak again and Yoongi instead voices, “Her misusing your feelings isn’t your fault.”

“I agree,” You say without realizing, watching the two of them glance back towards your direction when you inevitably bite your lip from speaking up. “Well,” Your word is nervous for a moment until you look at Yoongi and feel more sure. Finding Hoseok’s eyes again, you’re not doubtful as you try to back up Yoongi’s claim, “She shouldn’t have lied to the media in the first place just to save herself.”

“Oh, another addition to Yoongi’s hype squad for me?” Hoseok smiles gently as you finish your sentence, speaking his own with a jovial tone. You shrug, biting your lip and wondering shortly if you were too direct in how you spoke to him. “You know, when I heard he got tied into a fake relationship, I was kind of worried the person would be annoying.” You say nothing, instead biting your lip because initially you thought Yoongi hated you. “But you’re a nice person, Y/N. I’m glad it’s you.”

You grow silently surprised at Hoseok’s assessment of your character. Sending another glance in Yoongi’s direction that is matched by a tiny twist in your neck, you find him ready to meet you with just as tiny of a shrug. Slight smile almost floral in feeling. “He has to approve of even my fake girlfriends, I guess.” Yoongi explains in a gentle voice that’s sarcastic for Hoseok’s ears. You can’t help but smile in return as Yoongi’s words that play along imply in some ways that he thinks positively of you as well. Not that you doubted, but it is nice to see actively reinforced.

“I do!” Hoseok looks at Yoongi, nodding his head once in agreement, then back to you with a nod making full use of his chin to gesture to your person, “If Y/N hadn’t been cool, I would’ve gone and ruined more of my image trying to argue with your CEO.” Little bits of laughter escape your lips as you curl your knees further to your chest, comfortable with the two of them to feel like the conversation is wholly casual. “But I’ve bugged you both enough about my ex-- you both just woke up not too long ago, right? I’ll buy us lunch, let’s go out.”

You tense from surprise, your legs nearly kicking into yourself as you grip tighter when Hoseok all the sudden hops up from his seat on the couch. Pointing theatrically to you, then Yoongi, then himself, he speaks, “You both deserve it after dealing with my spiteful ex. I’ll drive too; let me just go to the bathroom real quickly.”

“You don’t have to join if you’re busy.” Yoongi tells you as Hoseok saunters down the hallway familiarly. You rest your chin on your knee thoughtful for a second to your calendar.

“I don’t have anything much to do anyways,” You mumble as you go over every hour as though your phone’s planner is in front of your eyes. “Oh-- but if you want it to be just the two of you…” Your voice trails off when Yoongi shakes his head, then leans it at an angle to rest against his palm. A smile plays at his lips when he speaks warmly,

“No, you can always feel free to tag along.” Your head nods unconsciously, finding his acceptance of your presence something to be proud of though you’re unsure why. Maybe because of how much you’ve looked up to his skills in your shares careers, maybe because of how much he’s helped you. Maybe because you enjoyed his company. “Ah,” He rubs his hair, somewhat light-hearted in voice as he adds sheepishly, “Well, I guess as long as you don’t mind pretending to be my girlfriend again though.”

You shrug, smiling towards Yoongi to assure him as you reply without a trace of disingenuity, “I’m used to it by now, Yoon.”

---

On a sunny day early in the following month, you sit sipping on an iced drink you picked up on the way to the company. Comfortably resting your arms on the pillow that sits on your crisscrossed lap, your head nods in tune with the beat of a song playing in soundproof headphones. In some moments to quickly place your cup to the coffee table, to scramble tiny notes on the notepad resting beside your thigh.

It’s the third time you’ve listened over the song in a row while Yoongi’s off finishing touch-ups on another song of his in the recording booth. Having spent the majority of the day in there, you brought along his preferred iced coffee drink that sits beside your own while you wait for him to come to his studio. Making use of the time, you’ve looked over the tiny playlist of in-progress tracks the two of you have messed around with for the past few weeks since the party.

Yoongi said you’re free to come to his studio whenever-- even gave you the passcode a while back-- justifying the great offer by saying he plans to release something from them so your help with any would be useful. You’re quite sure that in those stated truths also hid his way of giving you an outlet away from thinking of the collapse of your almost relationship with Jimin.

The method is effective to help, you’ve noticed. Along with Namjoon dragging you to his cafe to try concoctions he’s trying to decide on for future menus, while chatting with one another about nothing in particular, and Seokjin making all three of you do his random every-other-week activities, you’ve found the time outside of work filled well without giving you the time to dwell. And you’re thankful to the three of them for that. Especially considering Yoongi’s studio being a way to hideaway in the company itself.

It makes the hard to ponder memories invisible, though they’re left with the same mass. Undoubtedly something to cross again in time, but you think by then it’ll all be easier to handle. You’re hopeful of that idea.

In adding the finishing touch of notes for the current song, you watch a shadow envelope the paper you write on, but ignore Yoongi’s presence so the thought doesn’t leave. His shoes step in the corner of your peripherals, leading him to his chair as the last few lines of lyrics play in your ears. When you finally look up to see him, his hand is deep on top of his head, tossling locks of newly bleached hair as he sighs, though you can’t hear him. You remove his headphones to rest on your shoulders,

“Long session?” You question, reaching to swap your notepad with your drink, “Oh, I got you an Americano.” His head shifts at the mention of a deverage, and he rolls his seat over to grab it happily,

“Thank you-- need it.” Yoongi sips the beverage languidly through the straw, and you wonder if he actually went to sleep when he said he would the night before when you both were texting back in forth wrapped up in work independent of one another. “Yeah, I just couldn’t get the bridge to sound like I wanted.” Another sip disrupts the ice in the cup causing clatter. “Sorry, I took awhile.”

“I don’t mind.” You tell him, relaxing back into the couch where you stretch your legs out, catching the sight of different notifications on his computer as he wakes it. “Besides it’s not like any of the stuff we’re working on is legit.” Yoongi hums with the straw between his lips, lazily dragging his mouse around to check in on various emails and messages.

“Maybe if I could get my management team to ease up on the hardass image for me.” You notice the twinge in his calm tone while he ponders aloud, uncaring of how he disagrees with his public image. Trusting you with his complaints. “But either way, it’s nice making whatever without the pressure of releasing it eventually.”

You set your finished drink back on the coffee table, using a coaster still so the ice’s condensation doesn’t leave a ring. The idea of release sounds more inviting to your ears than you would like to admit, mainly because of how much you enjoy working on the tracks thus far. While Yoongi had the overall say due to the songs being ultimately his, they nonetheless have plenty of your touch mixed in that would likely be replaced in little bits if it were other producers working on them. At least in Yoongi’s case if something didn’t fit for him he’d tell you rather than letting you find out on the release date itself when you listen in along with the general public.

“By the way, I forgot to mention recently, but I’m going to be out of town for a couple of weeks.” Your head lifts stirring the hair framing your face. Yoongi returns the gaze, but the silence that takes over feels surprising to both of you. Subtle as it may be, there’s something disappointing about the news. “I have some fan meetings in a few countries to do around by debut anniversary time.” The explanation feels lackluster, not because it bothers him to go off to see fans-- Yoongi definitely enjoys connecting with those who listen to and support his work. You nod at his words, uncertain yourself of what to say.

Maybe it’s because the past couple of months you’ve seen him practically every day that the idea Yoongi will be gone for two weeks feels odd. In your head you question what you’ll do around the time spent working for the company. You’ll likely not even have to show up to work during that time, capable of doing everything from your apartment.

“What day do you leave?” You wonder how you never heard of his departure before this. Knowing fan meetings are organized well in advance, knowing that Yoongi wouldn’t have actually forgotten to mention it this far in.

“This coming Tuesday.” Six days off and he’s just now mentioning it. You nod again, considering why he waited so long. A type of consideration? You smile a little, ready to joke it off if you were wrong,

“Were you worried about telling me because I’d be alone here at the company?”

Yoongi shakes his head a little, not combating your question with light sarcasm or laughter, showing you that you’re at least some correct in your presumption. The drink you brought him gets placed beside his keyboard, Yoongi turning his chair towards you properly as he admits easily, “Not completely, but,” He shrugs, “It was a thought.”

“I’ll be okay.” Your voice sounds sure, and you feel the same energy. “Bit bored maybe.” Yoongi’s lips cast upwards into a smile, relaxed by your tone and feeling silly that he worried about it in the first place. “I’m used to kinda being on my own here anyways, and besides I have Joon and Jin to go bother if I get really bored.”

“And me.” Yoongi’s words follow the end of your sentence, firm in how he speaks to set the point across clearly. You pause, considering intention only for a second because it sounds different how he places himself into the group. “You don’t have to get bored, you can text or call whenever.”

You bite your inner cheek, trying to push back the tiniest flutter developing from how his voice sounds entirely gentle and sweet. Yoongi likely isn’t even aware of his effect, but like usual he’s a comforting presence. “Yeah, and you.”

Yoongi smiles when the outline of gratitude makes your own lips curl upright, but you duck your chin a little into the cover over the crossed arms you left perched atop your knees. He just continues in the soft expression, continuing along with a shrug, “Plus you know the code to my studio, so you can come in here whenever. I make it sound like I’m leaving for a year. So dramatic.” You giggle as Yoongi rubs the base of his neck and avoids eye contact for a moment because of sudden fluster emitting in his throat that he worries may escape visually onto his face.

“I should get you a cake or something for your debut anniversary.” You say to break away his embarrassment, though it’s a refreshing sight to witness. “I actually bake really well, isn’t that shocking?”

“So shocking since you burnt your leftovers in your oven the other day.” Your eyebrows furrow at his teasing tone while your lips pout at the memory. “You complained about it to me-”

“Anyways,” You cut him off with a smile to which Yoongi just shakes his head and chuckles. Reclining in his seat he listens to you continue brightly, “Vanilla cake with strawberry cream cheese frosting. It’ll be pink and pretty. Sound enticing?”

“It does in fact,” He nods slowly amused by your confidence in your baking capabilities. “You don’t need to though, it probably takes a lot of work.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t be humble, you deserve it for seven years in the industry.” You point to yourself, trying to continue in the light-hearted banter while you reinforce, “Just think of it as a fan from day one giving her favorite artist a gift, okay?”

“Fan.” Yoongi laughs, finally reclaiming his iced Americano after many of the cubes melted to half their sizes. “I don’t think of you as a fan, that’s impossible,” Yoongi murmurs taking a long sip, as you audibly huff and think of a new way to put it. “But since you’re insisting then it’s okay. Don’t worry if you get too busy though.”

“I won’t, I’m pretty free other than business as usual around here.” You say happy to hear him verbally accept, even though you planned to make him the gift in any case. You sit back contemplating the shape while Yoongi just chuckles mumbling something to himself about you doing things however you like no matter what he says. “Oh,” You reconsider your calendar, biting your lip at the particular day coming up during Yoongi’s absence. Timely occurrence in retrospect.

“What?” Yoongi notices the change in your eyes that narrow as you think over your upcoming two weeks without him. You shake your head slightly, trying to rationalize the event. It’s just business and not something to worry about, but now that the time has come so much closer, the two options of what you could do play in your mind cluttering your thoughts from answering him for a minute. You eventually frown, stirring worried bubbles in Yoongi’s chest that don’t settle as you shake it away to smile up at him sheepishly,

“I just remembered I have a meeting to start discussing my contract renewal next Friday.”

Yoongi hears more of the ice in his drink clatter as it melts. The news is unexpected to his ears entirely having not known that your contract with SoundWave would end this year. He considers your job and how much anguish it gives you to be unable to have recognition for anything you do. He also considers Jimin’s presence and how much it likely hurts to see him around the company, to still work with him.

Realizing you’re much more talented than what this company deserves considering your treatment, Yoongi almost feels the need to tell you not to renew and leave. Find better work, but he knows that’s a gamble as unlikely as winning the lottery. Even if you leave there’s no certainty of work elsewhere, especially not to the degree that you receive presently. When your repertoire is practically empty of accomplishment. Despite Yoongi not being in your position, he feels trapped thinking of a way to change it.

“Are you going to renew?” Yoongi asks you gently, the question liken more closely to an accidental thought than a real inquisition. He watches in dismay as your shoulders simply shrug in response, understanding that the reality of the upcoming meeting will certainly bother you more than the ramifications of your situation with Jimin ending. If anything add greatly to it. And he’s not going to be around to help you with it in person.

“Yeah, I’m going to.” Your statement ends the drought of words. The information makes Yoongi’s shoulders tense, somewhat surprised that you already have an answer of what you plan to do. To the majority of people it’s the most logical, economical-- safe of the two choices available to you. But it feels constricting in his chest to hear you say those words.

Yoongi recalls Hoseok letting the media destroy his image and now watches you say you’re going to let your career go unnoticed because of SoundWave’s manipulation. Each situation is different, but watching his friends powerless to bigger forces around them makes Yoongi’s fists clench, irritated. He sighs to himself, really at a loss of what to tell you that could be of any use, because there’s really no contest between the two options.

Your ears pick up on the sound of Yoongi sighing in dissatisfaction. You know it’s not aimed at your choice, but likely the thoughts in his head that presently make him stare towards the wall with his eyebrows hardened. Like Namjoon, he doesn’t want you to come to that decision. But you have a feeling both know there’s little for you not signing the paper again.

You’re unwilling to give up doing what you love for a living, even if the situation isn’t ideal.

“I think,” You start timidly, watching Yoongi’s eyes flick towards you intently paying attention. “I’m probably going to take up your offer to call you a few times… So sorry in advance if I get annoying by doing it too much.”

“You won’t,” Yoongi brushes his bands from his face, head shaking at the idea and that you still worry about those kinds of things with him. “I like talking with you, it’s not going to bother me.”

“You like talking to me?” You repeat hearing that your voice sounds higher from the surprise-- flattered. Yoongi’s open mouth shuts, contemplating if the phrasing sounded weird, but he just shrugs and nods, once again avoiding eye contact for the sake of embarrassment.

“Yeah.” He just says, rubbing his face, “Well, we’re friends--why wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” You can’t stop the smile on your face despite the pink blossoming around the site, “I’m honored-”

“Don’t tease me.” You laugh at him cutting off your sentence with a tiny growl of words, thinking Yoongi seems really endearing when he’s flustered by things he clearly didn’t think through saying. “I was going to get you dinner to pay back for the drink, but now I don’t know if I want to.” You hear him speaking like a warning as you continue to laugh softly, all the while Yoongi stands and rubs his face.

“Dinner is equivalent to a three dollar Americano?” You watch him with a testing smile, voice light-hearted. Yoongi shrugs as he sits beside you on the couch, intending to finally see your notes on the songs you’ve been working on.

“If I buy at McDonald’s it is.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags-- however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​ @tsvkino-usagi​@xionysus​​

[morganaseren]

So since chapter 17 of OtSttCA deals with Niamh meeting the Champion of Kirkwall, let me introduce you all to Emrys Hawke, my Reaver Warrior from DA2!

So she takes after her father Malcolm with the dark hair and light blue eyes (in my headcanon anyway). Her hair is like Niamh’s in that it’s more of an asymmetrical cut, but the length of it is less wavy in comparison. Honestly, I tend to headcanon that she used her sword to cut away most of the bulk of it one day post-Kirkwall when she goes into hiding. The rest of it is just kept in a ponytail that trails down to mid-back, which you can see a hint of in that last pic.

Of the scars she has, the one she has over the eye was courtesy of Meredith during their battle together. The one splitting the corner of her lip is actually from Aveline, who I believe was wearing gauntlets at the time. Did you guys know that Aveline throws you down to the floor and punches you repeatedly if your rival points are high enough?? In any case, Emrys let her get one good punch in before she retaliated, and the fight had to be stopped by Isabela surprisingly enough. Lol. The final scar across her cheek was when she was helping Isabela with a sea raid.

More background info on her below the cut!

Emrys has strong feelings over the concept of family.

Her father was a man she deeply respected. He went out of his way to help others--even when the situation usually meant putting himself in danger or leading them to move afterward--which she found admirable, and she wound up trying to do the same years later as she grew up. She took the loss of him as hard as the rest of her family, but she took up the mantle of watching after them without complaint, doing her best to provide for them all as she could on her soldier’s salary.

When it came to her mother, however, Emrys always had a somewhat distant relationship with her, who quietly disapproved of her learning the art of swordsmanship and later becoming a soldier. Leandra did eventually become more understanding of the notion when Emrys explained her need to want to be able to protect their family if Templars were ever after them. That never stopped the older woman from worrying constantly about her daughter’s safety though. When Carver died, their relationship became further strained, especially when Leandra impulsively blamed Emrys for the incident, but it was more or less amiable again by the time their family name was restored to nobility in Kirkwall. Leandra’s death still hit Emrys hard however, and although she supports mage freedom, she doesn’t care for the idea of blood magic--especially if it involves an unwilling subject--which is my personal headcanon as to why she’s so vehement about it in Inquisition.

With her siblings, she got along with both quite well. In fact, she was quite protective over them, and in her youth, it wasn’t uncommon for her to get into fights with anyone who thought they could harass the twins. It didn’t matter if Emrys was up against a bigger opponent or even outnumbered; she met them all head-on. Leandra berated her each and every time while Malcolm--and later Bethany--took to healing whatever wounds she sustained from the fights.

Emrys grew less impulsive as she aged, but of the two surviving Hawkes, Bethany is definitely the more level-headed sibling. Lol.

When Bethany inherited their father’s magical abilities, Emrys never really treated her any differently. She adored her little sister endlessly. If anything, she became more mindful of everyone else around her, especially when it came to the ever-watchful eyes of the Templars. As a soldier, she never hesitated to use the bulk of her body and armor to hide Bethany from view on the occasions her sister wanted to travel to the village, often to hear Leliana’s stories in the chantry. Then, she often escorted her sibling back home on her lunch break. Thankfully, people most just saw a protective sibling and never once thought she could be harboring an apostate in their midst.

Emrys was also close with her brother Carver, who followed after her in becoming a warrior, and she often helped him train. When he came of suitable age, he enlisted with the army as well, hoping to also help provide for their family. They had a healthy sibling rivalry, always constantly looking to test their skills against one another to improve upon their own. His loss not long after they escaped Lothering devastated her, and she blamed herself for his death for years afterward.

Personality-wise, she had more of a diplomatic leaning in my DA2 run of her, but she tends to be more playful around Bethany and their friends. It’s probably what drew Isabela to her, and Emrys was equally drawn in by the woman who was so bold and unapologetic in everything she did. The other woman encouraged her to be unafraid in indulging her more mischievous side--much to Bethany’s endless exasperation.

With the exception of Aveline--who she has a deep-seated rivalry with to say the least--Emrys tends to get along rather well with her companions. It admittedly took her longer to warm up to Fenris, especially when their first meeting almost turned disastrous after he called her sister ‘a viper’ and an ‘it.’ In the end, it took Bethany calming her down and Fenris apologizing before she allowed him to officially join her party. As a fellow warrior, she came to respect his skill greatly, and after a time, he was able to earn her loyalty, and she his in turn. While Emrys was closer to others within their close-knit group, she and Fenris developed an understanding of one another, so while they aren’t best friends, they do trust one another.

And if it wasn’t blatantly obvious in chapter 16 of OtSttCA, Bethany was part of Kirkwall’s Circle, and that’s how she ended up meeting and caring for the magelets Niamh meets. Thus, Bethany turning herself into the Templars after Emrys returns from the Deep Roads is probably one of the few times she came close to going against her little sister’s will.

That the then Knight-Captain Cullen and his Templar colleagues were able to escape Gamlen’s household unscathed at all was due in large part to Bethany outright begging her not to make matters worse. Emrys has always greatly respected Bethany’s autonomy and would never do anything to intentionally break that trust, but she couldn’t stop the sense of failure that washed over her following that moment, feeling as though she had lost another family member due to her own inability to protect them as she should.

In any case, Emrys has no love of Templars or what they represent to mages.

For a time, her friends were able to distract her from her abject misery, Isabela especially, who she entered into a casual relationship with. Emrys never pressed her for more--despite her own wishes to the contrary--knowing that the other woman would likely bolt were she to ask. To her chagrin, Isabela left anyway once she had the qunari artifact in hand, and while part of her wished to pursue the other woman, Emrys couldn’t bring herself to simply leave the city while her sister was still imprisoned in the Gallows.

Unfortunately, everything came to a head when the Arishok murdered the Viscount, and even when Isabela came back with the stolen Tome of Koslun, the qunari leader refused to leave without apprehending the thief in question. When Emrys argued against it, the Arishok offered her a compromise: a one-on-one duel to the death for Isabela.

She accepted the terms without question.

Infuriated, Isabela confronted Emrys immediately, asking her why she would place herself in such danger for her when the mistake was of her own doing.

“Because I don’t want to lose you again,” she said simply, stunning Isabela into silence, before striding off to meet the Arishok.

As expected, he was a warrior of great merit, and she was nearly done in by one of his blades as he impaled her. While the qunari thought his victory was all but assured with the wound he inflicted upon her, the sudden blood loss sent Emrys into the Reaver’s infamous dragon rage, enabling her to fight with such a frenzy that her opponent couldn’t hope to match. By the end of it, the massive qunari was cleaved in half with her greatsword. Unfortunately, her injury was so severe that had Anders, Merrill, and Bethany not been present to provide healing magic, she likely would’ve died.

The scar over her abdomen is the only evidence of her battle against the Arishok.

She was appointed as Champion of Kirkwall not long afterward, and she hoped to use her new position to help further the fight toward mage freedom, unaware that her activities were drawing attention to her sister still within the Circle... Then, things took a devastating turn with the destruction of Kirkwall’s chantry, thereby casting more fire into the resulting rebellion already raging throughout the city.

In the uneasy lull that followed with Meredith’s death, she asked her remaining companions and allies to scatter to the winds. With Isabela offering aid, Emrys then took Bethany along with the young charges under her care and went into hiding with them. She was able to stay with them for a time until she felt her presence was drawing far too much unwanted attention, especially with the Seekers now on her trail in addition to the Templars.

Emrys left her faithful mabari Rebel with them as a means of further protection before she actively drew attention to herself from Kirkwall’s remaining Templars, giving Bethany and the magelets the time needed to escape.

Despite her title, Emrys never returned to Kirkwall again.

She traveled with Isabela for some months, enjoying the soft, quiet moments with her as much as the more sensual ones, but when the Hands of the Divine began to close in on her location as well, she had no choice but to go into further seclusion again to protect her lover.

When she heard word that the Herald of Andraste was a mage who later became Inquisitor, she secretly sent word to a few of her companions, asking them to help get Bethany and the magelets back to Ferelden. There, she hoped they would be safe with the Inquisition, especially following the very public alliance offered to Redcliffe’s rebel mages.

What happens following that decision will be revealed in future chapters, but post-Trespasser, Emrys goes back to sailing the seas with Isabela, for like Niamh, she has lost enough, and there is nothing in all Thedas that could keep her from being with the one she loves most.

[hellsbovnd]

echo.

wc:1550 focus: rosemund blackthorne

5/11/2020

[ PDF MIRROR ]

Rosemund always fancied himself a fairly solitary soul—he had to be, or he would have a difficult time explaining to others why it was that he was (allegedly) content to spend the overwhelming majority of his time alone, be it locked away in his house or taking walks alone through the Pillars of Ishgard. Even when he went to the Forgotten Knight, he was content to remain on the outer fringes of the crowd, not quite watching or listening or necessarily paying attention to anyone or anything in particular as he nursed a mug of mulled wine.

Whatever he wanted to tell himself, the solitude did gnaw at him—on occasion. It was those times that he told himself that even if he didn’t enjoy it, it was a necessary evil, that he should be content with the company of a mad witch and occasional letters between him and his long-time friends—Hello, how are you, we should meet for drinks soon, and then they never meet for drinks. Once he fired the last of his house’ maids, he was completely alone. He still swore he heard people wandering about outside his door sometimes—though that usually ended up just being either the witch or a figment of his imagination.

It was easy enough to ignore such things, but they did generally serve as his cue that he needed to get out of the house. Few things set Rosemund’s mind at ease like fresh air. Being confined to his manor was, admittedly, maddening. He had to constantly remind himself that it was a confinement of his own design; he could leave any time he wanted. Nothing was keeping him there: there were no shackles and there was no obligation to keep the dust bunnies in the parlor company.

And so he settled on a morning—or rather, the morning settled on him. He slept most of the day prior and found him awake when most others would be rising for once, rather than closer to the middle of the day as usual. He bundled himself up in a warm coat and scarf in an effort to stave off the biting coldof the early morning breeze and set off for a cafe he once frequented (it felt like a lifetime ago now…), situated near the Crozier in a rather unsuspecting corner.

The cafe itself was fairly small, too small to have seating inside at any rate. The bell chimed as Rosemund pushed the door inward—stuck on some half-frozen hinge—and he offered the woman behind the counter a tired smile, which she returned. Her clothes and face and hands were covered in flour, and the apron additionally had colorful spots where berries had fallen or coffee had been spilled. Some old stains, others new, but it added character.

The last time he’d been to this cafe, she’d informed him that the previous owner, her mother, had finally retired. She regarded him kindly, with warm, dark eyes, even as he loomed over her by a good fulm and a half: a shadow that some had told him was unsettling at best. “It’s been a while, ser! Have you been holding up well?”

“As well as I can. Thank you,” he mumbled in reply. “And you? How’s your husband?”

“Holding up well.” She let out a sigh, leaning back from the dough she was kneading. “He has his hands full, taking care of the kid. Anyroad, what can I get for you?”

“Do you have blueberry scones today?”

“No, but we have blackberry.”

“Blackberry is fine, then. And, uh, some—breakfast tea.” It’d been so long since he’d been to this particular cafe that he’d forgotten which of their teas was the best. It really had more of a reputation for coffee, but despite its purpoted uses in treating hangovers, Rosemund had to admit that he was not a big fan of coffee. No matter how much sugar or cream he added, it was always too bitter. But he figured that he couldn’t go wrong with a cup of tea.

She nodded and accepted the coins he offered in exchange for the service—along with a rather generous tip. “Right away, ser.”

They made somewhat awkward small-talk as she set about fixing his tea. The scones were fresh out of the oven and needed to cool anyway, though Rosemund immediately regretted ordering tea—it took time for the kettle to boil, after all, and there were only so many ways he could loop back around to innocuous topics—the weather, and… Well, the weather. He didn’t rightly know the woman behind the counter well enough to feel comfortable delving into anything else, and she wasn’t highborn so he managed to avoid getting caught up in the rumor mill for the morning. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know her name…

He offered her a mumbled thanks once the tea was ready and stepped out of the cafe with his breakfast.

The little iron-wrought tables outside of the cafe were freezing-cold, but they provided somewhere for Rosemund to sit while he ate. Church bells tolled the hour, ringing through the Crozier which had started to fill with people running their morning errands—maids and manservants running about to find food suitable for their lords’ and ladies’ brunches, lunches, midafternoon snacks, and dinners; children passing through on their way to their tutor’s or to church. It was too early to shop for clothes in Rosemund’s opinion, but there were even a few noblewomen drifting away from a tailor’s shop.

Such a sight made it easy to forget that until a few years ago, Ishgard was a nation with the constant threat of war looming on the horizon. The weather, too, seemed to forget; the sky was a hazy blue and the sun was rising steadily in the sky. The feeling of the sun’s warmth on his face actually brought a smile to his lips—a rare blessing indeed, when most days the sky was a terible, soul-sucking gray.

He brought his cup of tea to his lips, golden eyes wandering among the passers-by. It was, perhaps ironically, a result of Rosemund’s solitary nature that drove him towards people. Despite his more misanthropic musings and his tendency to reject the company of his peers in favor of paying charity to the lowborn during winter moons—inviting them into his home as a reprieve from the biting cold of the winter moons. He enjoyed being an observer, he always asserted. It was easier than trying to forge legitimate bonds with others.

Never in the middle of things, always on the fringes…

While it was that time of morning that most highborn children would be getting ready to start their daily routine—he remembered somewhat fondly the path he traced around the city in his youth, dragged first to church and then to class and then to errands and then, after he turned twelve, to training—the lowborn were not bound by such responsibilities. Some children ran about the Crozier, darting around to avoid remaining in any one person’s path for too long. They laughed and yelled, two of the older-looking boys chasing each other with sticks.

“Halt, fiend!” the one giving chase cried, half out of breath from running and half out of breath from laughing, his cheeks red and his grin irrepressable.

The boy in the lead turned on his heel, then and gave his pursuer a solid whap with his stick, catching him right in the gut. Rosemund winced at the sight; he remembered his days of roughhousing, but…

It didn’t look like either of the boys was any worse for the wear, though. The pursuing child took the blow in stride. He only stumbled for a moment to indulge in a little theatrics, clutching the ‘wound’ before they were off again.

“Your wicked blade is no match for the will of the Fury!”

“Oh yeah? Well your bladework is no match for the power of darkness!”

“I’ll make you eat those words!”

Rosemund frowned at that, but by the time he’d rightfully processed what they were doing, the boys were long gone down the road, up towards the Last Vigil. His shoulders fell and he shook his head—

Dark Knights were a fairly well-known urban legend, but in his youth he never would have dreamed of playing as one. Was that the new trend? He supposed that with the end of the Dragonsong War rendering it unacceptable to capture dragonfly scouts to beat with sticks, kids had to find ways to spice up their leisure-time. And that seemed to involve beating each other with sticks now…

He finished the last of his tea, staring off down the road after them. If they only knew that neither of their roles was particularly glamorous… If they only knew the weight behind the games that they played.

If they only knew the Hells you went through to get to this point.

Rosemund gritted his teeth, banishing the thought from his head. No different than Knights and Knaves, surely; after all, in all such child’s games, there had to be some sort of ‘villain,’ right? It was nothing, nothing…

It was nothing, but he knew that it was going to bother him for the rest of the day.

[bronzeflower]

The Opposite of a Fake Relationship

Also on ao3

Chapter 2: The Inspection

-----

“That builder we hired sure is fast,” Lyla stared towards where the expansion was, which had basically doubled in size from the last time Arlo got a look at it.

“You should see him fight,” Arlo said, and Lyla looked over at him in bewilderment, but quickly schooled her expression into something more neutral.

“That kind of skill will be useful when we need builders on expeditions,” Lyla stated. “Last time, the builder we took with us could throw a punch, and they ended up slowing us down more than helping us.”

“Yesh,” Arlo sympathized. Typically builders refused to go on expeditions if they didn’t have any fighting skills, but he supposed some would think it’s fine because they have Flying Pigs members there.

He could imagine how worrisome and annoying it would be if he went on an adventure with someone he was just trying to protect the entire time if it wasn’t supposed to be an escort mission.

“Anyway, I’m going to check on the expansion to make sure the foundation is steady,” Lyla announced. “The speed in which it’s being built is concerning, especially since the workshop is made up of only a single builder. Could you come with me for assistance in checking for defects? Another pair of eyes will be useful.”

“Of course,” Arlo responded. He would be offended on behalf of his husband that he would put in anything less than his best work, but he understood Lyla’s concern. Besides, he was confident there wouldn’t be a single defect to be found.

When they arrived, Arlo saw Victor near the top of the expansion. There were a few seconds of loud noises coming from Victor banging his hammer before Victor practically jumped down the wall concerningly quickly, even as he grabbed a few key areas built up as temporary supports to slow his descent.

Victor rolled as he made contact with the ground in a maneuver that Arlo knew was designed for taking minimal damage when falling from higher places.

Victor stood up, brushed himself off, and when he turned, he noticed Arlo and Lyla there.

“Hello!” Victor smiled widely and waved. “Came to check on how the expansion’s doing?”

“Yes,” Lyla answered bluntly. “As per Flying Pigs regulations, we must make sure that all expansions are suitable for our standards.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I can guarantee you that these walls are as sturdy as I can make them!” Victor banged on the wall to demonstrate. “Feel free to search for defects. You won’t find any.”

“You’re cocky,” Lyla criticized. 

“If you want to prove me wrong, you’re going to have to find a defect,” Victor challenged, and Arlo immediately felt the need to rise to the challenge. “If you find one, I’ll renounce the job and get you someone better. If you don’t, I’d like a sparring match with you.”

“With me?” Lyla questioned, a calculating expressing painting her features.

“Yeah, I’ve already sparred with hot stuff over here,” Victor pointed a thumb towards Arlo, and Arlo barely registered the fact that Victor called him ‘hot stuff,’ if only because Victor called him that with relative frequency.

Lyla was clearly somewhat caught off guard by the flirtatious name, but she accepted Victor’s terms.

Victor went back to work to allow them to start their inspect, and Lyla turned towards Arlo.

“Was he really flirting with you?”

“I hope so,” Arlo answered, more in the context of that was his husband, and he hoped that Victor wasn’t flirting with anyone else, but Lyla took it very differently.

“Really? I didn’t expect you to be into someone so…” Lyla thought for a moment. “Unprofessional.”

“He’s just friendly,” Arlo suggested, staring at the wall in an effort to search for any cracks or weak spots.

“He challenged me to a sparring match and called you hot stuff,” Lyla pointed out, kicking the wall with all her might. As Arlo expected, it did not budge or dent or crack even the slightest degree. “That’s not exactly what I would call friendly behavior.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just how he is. He challenged me to a sparring match when I first met him too,” Arlo said, and he didn’t even lie about that. Yeah, his ‘first’ meeting with Victor in the Flying Pigs was characterized by Victor saying that he wanted a sparring match, but it was also one of the first things Victor said to Arlo back in Portia.

“He hasn’t even been here that long. Get that lovestruck expression off your face,” Lyla ordered, and Arlo didn’t even realize the face he was making while remembering his first meeting with Victor.

“Right.”

Lyla ran her hand over the areas she kicked to see if she knocked up any kind of dust or made any minuscule cracks, but, each and every single time, the wall was still just as perfect.

“I’m gonna have to break through the ceiling to find something to complain about in this place,” Lyla grumbled, and Arlo glanced up to where there was very obviously no ceiling yet.

“You’re gonna have to wait for the ceiling to be built first,” Arlo responded, and Lyla leveled him with a glare.

“I did not ask for your input.”

“You asked me for help in uncovering weak points.”

“I think the only weak point here is you, given how soft you got for this builder in just a few days,” Lyla criticized, but, luckily Arlo was saved from responding to that when Victor interjected into their conversation.

“How’s the inspection going? Find any defects yet?” Victor inquired, smiley and confident as ever.

“No,” Lyla answered. “I hope you’re ready to lose this sparring match.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve lost,” Victor shifted into a fighting stance, and after a breath, the match began.

Now, Arlo was the kind of person who preferred being in a fight rather than outside of it, but he had to admit that it was impressive to see Victor’s form from a distance rather than from up close.

Of course, Lyla was also impressive, as all Flying Pigs members were, but Arlo was so used to moving and reacting along with Victor in a fight that it was strange to stand so still.

Victor won because of course he did, and Lyla shook his hand as she accepted her defeat.

“Maybe I’ll challenge you to a rematch at some point,” Lyla spoke, and Victor grinned.

“That’d be great! I always love meeting new people to spar with!” Victor retracted the statement slightly. “Well, ones that can keep up with me to any degree.”

“Same here,” Lyla agreed. “Good work on the expansion.”

“Well, I haven’t finished it quite yet,” Victor responded. “We can always do a repeat of our bet whenever.”

“Alright,” Lyla nodded. “Someone needs to make sure you’re doing your job correctly.”

“That extends to you too, darling,” Victor directed to comment towards Arlo. “If you can’t find a defect, we have a sparring match.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Arlo answered. “Does this time count?”

“Of course it does!” Victor said, and Victor and Arlo immediately started the match after Victor’s confirmation.

Arlo tried out a couple new tricks, but so did Victor. In fact, Arlo even caught sight of a few of Aureall’s moves, and he wondered who else Victor had been sparring against.

“Are you just asking everyone you meet to spar with you?” Arlo questioned after he thoroughly got his butt kicked, and Victor got a slightly sheepish grin.

“I’m in a building full of renowned fighters. How could I possibly resist?”

“And how many times have you sparred with Aureall?” Arlo inquired.

“As many times as she challenged me!” Victor declared, and Arlo knew with how Aureall tended to be that she had challenged Victor many times. At least enough to pick up some of her moveset.

“You really shouldn’t accept all of her challenges,” Lyla advised. “She has a job to do, and, if she’s sparring you, she’s not doing it.”

“It was during her break,” Victor countered. “Speaking of which, mine is over. Thanks for the sparring matches!”

With that, Victor turned heel and returned to the top of the walls he was building, clearing the wall in a matter of seconds.

“I didn’t expect you to be into someone who could defeat you so easily,” Lyla mirrored her words from earlier. “Although I suppose it means you can worry less about their general wellbeing.”

“He can prove himself in a fight, but I don’t think he’s using any kind of safety harness when going up and down that wall,” Arlo pointed out, and, indeed, Victor was just going free and standing in very precarious ways while doing so.

“Okay, yeah, that’s concerning to watch.”

Lyla and Arlo just took a moment to stare at Victor working. Victor glanced over to them and waved wildly, and Arlo awkwardly waved back.

“Let’s get back to work,” Lyla announced, so they did.

[toomuchtimenerd]

Review for ‘The Queen’s Rising’ series by Rebecca Ross

I stayed up until 3am last night to finish this 2-part series and wow oh wow do I not regret it at all. Both the first book, The Queen’s Rising, and its sequel The Queen’s Resistance had pretty slow starts... but jeez once the plots got going they really got going. This duology was one of the many books that I had put on hold awhile ago. I think I originally wanted to read this during my sadgirl post-breakup phase exactly two years ago, a 3-month long period of time where I got broken up with, had an identity crisis, and proceeded to drop out of my sorority while fully embracing my inner nerd. Disclaimer: I loved being in a sorority, I really did. It just took up way too much of my time and I had realized juggling sorority duties and school left me with no time to pursue my own personal hobbies. 

BUT ANYWAY, I’m really glad I finished this series and really glad I took my time with it. The Queen’s Rising has a pretty slow start and by start I mean probably the first half of the entire book. But it became super complex with all the court politics going on and honestly it went from slow to holy shit whaT’S HAPPENING AHH over the course of like a chapter halfway through the book. The Queen’s Resistance was more or less the same, except with way more political twists (in my opinion, of course) and a touch more romance. Emphasis on touch, because neither of these books were romance-focused or even had that much romance at all, which was kind of a bummer because hello it’s me the lover of all things sappy romance. But I’ll get to that in a second.

The Queen’s Rising follows a young girl named Brienna who essentially gets dumped by her grandfather at a prestigious academy that trains young girls to become ‘passions’. This refers to someone who is master at one of the five subjects: art, music, drama, wit, and knowledge. Brienna’s mother dies before the start of the story, and Brienna’s father is purposefully kept a secret from her. Brienna herself dabbles in each of the five passions before settling on knowledge, which is taught by Master Cartier. Her biggest fears at the beginning of the book is not being picked up by a patron who will endorse the utilization of her passion, and unfortunately this comes true. But she’s offered by the academy headmistress to stay the summer and continue studying her passion, and the headmistress will try her best to pair her with a suitable patron in a few months. Brienna agrees to this and stays in contact with Master Cartier through letters for much of the summer when suddenly everything changed when the fire nation attacked. Just kidding. Brienna shares her strange visions of a Maevana lord from over a century ago with the headmistress, who gives her the choice to choose a strange man who goes by the name of Jourdain as her patron father. Brienna complies, and basically her entire fate is changed at this point.

So my first thoughts were that I really liked the sisterhood that went on throughout the six girls at the academy. Even though the book opens with the conclusion of their schooling we, as the reader, can still get a glimpse of how deep their relationships go. Ciri was a little bit of a brat, but I personally don’t blame her due to her unusual circumstance of sharing an instructor with someone else and Merei was LITERALLY Brienna’s ride-or-die. Obviously spoilers (because my reviews are always ridden with spoilers), but Merei’s role later on in the plot while they’re all in Maevana had me mentally screaming “YESSS SIS”. Cause honestly if I was Brienna, that’s what I would’ve done, especially when Merei shot Allenach on the battlefield. Well, maybe not if I was bleeding out on the ground but still. 

And how could I forget, Brienna the main character. I liked her quite a bit, truly, but if I’m being nit-picky then I definitely do have an issue with how her character progresses in The Queen’s Rising. Brienna starts off as someone who is clearly headstrong and determined, so I guess that’s ultimately the drive that keeps her going through the revolution and such. But I kind of felt like she went from “sheltered girl who’s only ever had time for books” trope to “Maevana warrior who is willing to fight and die for her rightful queen” a little too quickly. I get that she is half Maevan on her dad’s side (who is holy shit such a dick) but it just seems kind of abrupt for her to go from “I grew up as a dainty fair maiden in Valenia my whole entire life and don’t know anything about Maevana outside of what I learned from books” to “I’m going to beg the cruel king of Maevana for my adopted father’s safe passage back into the country and then when no one’s paying attention to me I’m going to scout this land I’ve never been on to look for a stone that has been lost for over a century and everything will be fine” all in the span of... maybe two or three chapters? We are shown that she receives sword/combat lessons from Isolde, the rightful queen of Maevana, but if my mental timeline for this story is correct then those lessons should have only been over the course of maybe two weeks. How much sword technique can a sheltered eighteen-year-old girl actually learn in two weeks? Enough to walk around enemy territory with a concealed weapon and be confident enough to use said weapon when needed? Errr... I don’t know fam that just doesn’t seem realistic. 

Another related issue I have with Brienna is that I feel like she embraces Maevana as her home incredibly quickly. In The Queen’s Rising we found out that Master Cartier is actually Lord Aodhan Morgane, the son of Kane Morgane who had survived the failed first uprising as an infant. He, like Brienna, spent virtually his entire life growing up in Valenia and was schooled in the passion of knowledge. In The Queen’s Resistance every other chapter was in Cartier’s POV, so we got a lot of glimpses into his personal thoughts and his own struggles with returning to Maevana. Unlike Brienna, Cartier/Aodhan really struggled with settling into Maevana, being a Lord, finding his place in a land that he didn’t grow up in, and trying to be a leader to people he had never met before. A lot of the first half of The Queen’s Resistance was centered around Cartier/Aodhan’s inner turmoil in these regards, whereas Brienna (in BOTH books) never seemed to have this struggle despite having a very similar upbringing. Brienna just seems to fit right into Maevana in a way that doesn’t seem particularly realistic or natural given the circumstances that surround her upbringing. 

Now onto the romance! The romance is all centered between Brienna and Cartier, and there are some subtle hints at the beginning of The Queen’s Rising that indicates this is the main relationship throughout the story. However, like the plot this relationship does not really exist or evolve in any way until after the halfway point of the book, when Brienna finds out that Cartier and Lord Morgane are one and the same. Which, by the way, came as a HUGE shocker to me. I DEFINITELY did not see that coming. I assumed Cartier would show up in Maevana in some way or another, but definitely not like that. It was a great twist though, and having both Brienna and Cartier in Allenach’s castle made for a great yet somewhat slow-burn romance. Admittedly, the romance aspect was pretty negligible in The Queen’s Rising. There’s a little bit more emphasis on their relationship in the sequel, but even then it’s not all that much... unfortunately. I really liked these two, and I thought the matching constellations on their passion cloaks were JUST SO DAMN TOUCHING. And the ending of The Queen’s Resistance with the whole golden thread tradition low key had me clutching my chest for a solid two seconds. So the final verdict here is that for the little bits of romance that this series featured, it was beautiful. But ultimately romance wasn’t the focus, nor was it even an emphasis, and if I could have things my way I would’ve definitely liked there to be a little more romance building and one-on-one moments between the pair.

Let’s see... I’m racking my memory for any notable thoughts on some of the side characters. Not gonna lie, Isolde fell pretty flat to me and despite her being the queen I personally could not bring myself to care all that much for her. Luc was a jolly guy, but again not very notable or stand-out-ish in a good way. While it doesn’t bother me, I do have to ask what was the point of Neeve’s character? She shows up in The Queen’s Resistance, and we learn pretty early on that she’s actually another one of Brienna’s half siblings through her father. I don’t understand why Neeve was cast aside by Allenach, after all wasn’t she a daughter that he so desperately wanted? Illegitimacy didn’t matter to him anyway, he could’ve just legitimized her and the fact that Neeve’s mother was dead meant that Allenach didn’t need to worry about anyone influencing Neeve aside from himself. Was Allenach banking THAT much on Brienna? I dunno, none of Neeve’s backstory really makes sense to me or brings much value to the plot either. I like the character just fine, I just don’t understand her purpose... aside from being a long-lost half-sister to the main character. 

I also kept thinking Sean Allenach would eventually betray the queen’s side but he never did, which also makes little sense to me. I mean I guess deep down he really is just a good kid, but it just seems so unlikely for that to be the case when both his older brother and his father are incredibly cruel people. I understood why Ewan and Keela didn’t take after their father, Declan Lannon, because after all they always had each other and they had Tomas who was always a good guy trying to set them on a better path. So for Sean, who seemingly did not have any kind of positive influence to counter the shitty influence that is his brother and father, to be such a kind person willing to undermine his own father’s power just seems statistically unlikely I guess?

And finally, the ending of The Queen’s Resistance with the whole thing about Cartier/Aodhan’s mother still being alive was... good GOD. She was the bone sweeper??? SERIOUSLY? Now that’s a fucking plot twist that I would’ve never saw coming. My heart definitely hurt for Lile, and her written account of what had happened to her over the last 25 years nearly brought tears to my eyes. I do wonder though, when Declan said he loved Lile was he referring to romantic love or the love shared between a mother and son? I was assuming the second type of love, since Declan kept referring to Cartier/Aodhan as ‘brother’. But in Lile’s written account of what happened in her life she writes that she took the Lannon name after ten years in the dungeons. I feel like there’s a lot of ambiguity as to what that actually means. Did she essentially become Declan’s consort? Or did she remain a motherly figure to him and her sharing Declan’s family name made it more real for him? I hope it’s the second one, because I would feel VERY uncomfortable if it were the first case.

When I started this series, I thought I had it all figured out. I guessed that Brienna was the rightful Kavanagh queen within the first chapter, but little did I know the author wanted to tell the story about the queen’s right hand woman, not the queen herself. Which is a very unique approach to a story and I think Ross did quite well (despite the queen herself falling flat as a character. Perhaps some sacrifices need to be made if the story is to emphasize someone other than the queen). Again, I do wish there was a bigger emphasis on Brienna and Cartier’s relationship. I enjoyed Brienna enough, but I simply adored Cartier/Aodhan and I admit I really wanted to see more interactions between the two through Cartier’s POV. I almost wish the last chapter of The Queen’s Resistance was written in Cartier’s POV because I wanted to know what thoughts swirled through his head while he was looking for the golden thread in the tapestry. Petitioning for a prequel novella, completely through Cartier’s POV, during the seven years he spent watching Brienna grow up dabbling in other passions before choosing to become a passion of knowledge. I would pay dumb money to read this. And I would go broke, because I would pay a lot of money to read a lot of things. 

[theslayercake]

Sunrise

-blows dust off of screen-

White ash and liquid fire. Flash of steel; lacquered red with blood. Deaths and births.

Ash coated her deep crimson armour.

“Eye’s sharp, Faithe.” 

Ser Harold’s voice clear over the splash of paddles and waves lapping softly against the hull of their small boat. “We’re almost ashore. Ser David, let the surf carry us in.” The paddles slid silently out of the water and into their sconces. 

Faithe shook her head, the last vestiges of the vision following the ash flakes into the sea, and clutched her glaive tighter. Harold looked back over at her gave her a nod of encouragement. He had been a Hunter-Knight since before she had been given to the Order and was well into his Sunset, eyes glittering with a mix of weary experience, pride and carefully managed rage. She drew strength from those eyes and took in the view.

The island wasn’t large, some new volcanic formation from the last hundred years, but it was shrouded in the familiar perpetual fog that hung over the Atlantic Ocean and blanketed in a thick layer of ash that drifted from the sky like snow. Dead stalks of trees, burnt like matchsticks and scattered across the cove suggested the ash was a recent occurrence; the Mark on her hip burned dully. They stepped silently into the surf and pulled the boat up the beach. Ser Heather and her apprentice, Fletcher, lifted the massive waxed canvas bag containing their rifle out and ran for the nearest cluster of skeletal trees. Gas and water geysered into the air nearby, turning to fire and blood, and Faithe’s hand snapped to her revolver.

“Faithe!” Ser Harold hissed, “Help us cover the boat!”

She blinked as the water rained down around her and started shoveling ash and sand into the boat. Once it was suitably hidden they ran across to the treeline and joined the rest. Ser Heather glanced at them.

“The beast is here, I can feel it.” 

All four of them nodded. Faithe could feel the Mark pulse searing heat up and down her thigh. They definitely had the right island. 

“Drakes like to rest in the centre of their territory,” Heather continued, “and high up, if they can.” 

She pointed to the spike of volcanic rock barely visible through the fog and ash. 

“It'll be there, or thereabouts.”

Faithe and David looked between each other, Fletcher clutched the huge canvas wrapped rifle closer to his chest and muttered about madwomen. Ser Harold stood.

“Alright Dead Men, what are you waiting for? The curse to take you?” 

That snapped her out of it and she clamped down hard on the spike of anger the Mark sent her. Better to die to a drake than to whatever end fate had decided.

“What's the plan? “ She asked.

“We move inland in a loose formation. Ser Heather takes the lead and finds herself a nice place for Fletcher to shoot from.” He sounded like he was grinning under his helmet. “Then we flush the monster out and into his sights.”

Ser David drew his revolver and checked it's load.

“Sounds like good end.” He said.

Faithe punched his arm. 

“Only if we bugger it up. I want to die somewhere I can see the sky.”

They walked through the dead forest for an hour before Ser Heather raised a fist and they stopped. It had been hard going, dodging pitfalls and geysers whilst trying to stay down wind in the constantly shifting ash fog. The mountain loomed before them. She knifed her hand down flat against her side and the group scattered and dropped. Harold crawled over to her and she wordlessly pointed to an outcrop of rock before handing him a battered pair of binoculars. He saw it at the same time Fletcher did, a soft gasp escaping the boy’s mouth. An unmistakably draconic snout was outlined before the black rock. 

Heather unzipped the canvas cover and helped Fletcher lift the massive scoped rifle free. The apprentice swiftly checked it over before setting it down in the crook of a burnt root. Ser Heather lay next to him as he slid a huge round into the breach and began whispering ranges and adjustments as he sighted the drake's head. The rest of them took cover in the surrounding trees and swells of ash. Faithe held her breath, her first proper hunt and they'd slay the beast without having to flush it out. Not exactly heroic but certainly a lot cleaner. Pain flared for her Mark so sharply and suddenly that she gasped and twisted to clutch it. Fletcher fired and the draconic head came apart in a flurry of dead skin and rock as Faithe's eyes met a pair of molten gold orbs rising out of the fog next to the snipers.

Heather reacted fast enough, pushing Fletcher away with inhuman strength as a clawed talon the size of her torso crushed her and the rifle into a bloody pulp. Fletcher screamed as Ser David and Ser Harold rose, sword and pick-hammer in hand. The drake roared and a stream of viscous flame engulfed the apprentice and split the veteran knights from each other. Fletcher's screams increased in pitch. Faithe drew her revolver and fired six silver-cored shots into the drake's flank. Its tail whipped around and caught her in the chest and everything went black.

She was burning, not with fire but the incandescent heat of a star. Her body was quicksilver and blood, and she stood before the yawning Abyss; the expanse of nightmares that separates life from death. It slid towards her, tendril of black nothing gliding over her legs and around her waist, she closed her eyes and waited for the suffering she would have to endure before Heaven. The tendrils touched her Mark and recoiled as she burst into all consuming crimson light and the Abyss evaporated before her.

Her eyes snapped open; the pain across her chest was immense, every breath stabbed shards of glass into her lungs and the Mark burned hotter than it ever had, but she was alive. She leapt to her feet, glaive in hand and ran to Fletcher. He was still smoldering, his light armour melted horribly into his burned flesh. He moaned when she touched him. The Knights of the Crimson Sun were cursed to death at a time of fate's choosing, but they were more resilient than most. Much more. She opened a flask of Ambrosia and poured it through his melted lips. It would help him somewhat, the best she could do now.

The rapid snapping of gunfire drew her attention and she started running in their direction, in time for another howling roar of flame to smother all other sound. She followed the trail of smashed trees and pooled fire to the edge of a drop. Below her Ser Harold lost his shield and left arm to a raking claw. He yelled out in pain, distracting the drake long enough for Ser David to plunge his pick-hammer into its neck. The beast howled and spun with incredible speed, ripping the weapon from David's hand. It lunged at him, catching the surprised knight in its huge jaws, and with wet snap it bit him in half.

Faithe felt something dislodge inside her. David had been the first to teach her what life in the Order could be. They had grown up together, learned and trained and experimented together. He was gone now, dead, and if they didn't kill this thing then it would have been in vain. Fire filled her, that burning heat of the Sun coursed through her veins and seared her skin. The slope down was almost sheer but she started to run anyway, smoke and flame trailing from the slit in her helmet.

Ser Harold knew he was dead. The drake spat out the bulk of David's body and snaked towards him. It looked down as he forced himself to sit up, matching it's serpentine stare with as much defiance as he could. It chuffed, in annoyance most likely, and reared up; throat sacks inflating with flammable fluid. A cry of rage and pain snapped his gaze to the blazing figure of Ser Faithe. The youngest of his Knight-Hunters was barely into her Sunrise and yet crimson fire flared around her as she leapt through the air and thrust her glaive into the drake's spine. It shrieked and twisted as the area around the blow charred and blackened from within. Faithe held on with all her might, pushing her rage and hate into the heat that poured out of her, though her glaive, and into the drake. It spasmed again as the burnt flesh reached its neck before it bulged suddenly, neck expanding briefly, and it's head exploded in a fireball of burning slime.

They found Fletcher huddled around Ser Heather's corpse. He was unconscious, but breathing steadily, and he groaned when Faithe picked him up. Ser Harold finished bandaging his stump and looked at her, grimacing. She had taken her helmet off and he could see the second Mark burned into her face by the fire of the Crimson Sun. A Twin-Curse. A Darksun; heroes and monsters all. He shuddered as he took some of Fletcher's weight on his good arm. She wouldn't be able to die; ripped back from the Abyss every time she would pass through, and every time she'd leave a little more of herself behind.

“What happens now, Harold?” She asked, tears running down her ash streaked face.

“We go back to London, Faithe.” He smiled genuinely now. “We go back and we make sure you get a hero's welcome.”

“That's not what I mean. Are they going to give me over to the Church?” Her voice wavered. “Or the Paradox?”

"We look after our own Faithe, you know that. You won't be given to the bloodsuckers, or those self important ghouls.” He nodded at the chunk of drake skull hanging from her belt. “I imagine the Eight will want a word with you, and after this I think the hardest thing will be picking a Name.”

He stumbled as Faithe stopped suddenly.

“You think they'll Name me for this?”

“For slaying a drake and saving two of us? They'll probably want to throw a banquet for you.”

“Oh Lord, no.” She chuckled weakly. “I just want to sleep for a week.”

“Whatever you say, Drakeslayer.” 

"Don't suggest that to anyone.”

[dragonshost]

Mirror Mirror On The Wall - Chapter 1

Happy birthday, @indraaas!

I hope you enjoy this MiraMard fic!  It will be 3 or 4 chapters long.

Fandom: Fairy Tail Pairing: Mirajane x Mard Geer Rating: T Genre: Supernatural/Romance

Also on FFN & AO3.

Summary:  After Natsu breaks Mirajane's hallway mirror during her housewarming party, he finds her a very nice replacement for it.  Although it might be just a little bit haunted.

***

Mirajane stepped gingerly away from the glimmering shards of broken glass strewn across her floor, holding the hem of her dress with one hand and a delicate flute of champagne in the other. Though it probably mattered very little now if it did happen to join the rest of the sharp pieces of what had formerly been Mirajane's hallway mirror. Of all nights to have worn her favorite black dress, and matching stiletto heels. There was no way she could clean up the mess properly in her current attire.

"Sorry, Mira…" mumbled the man at the center of the mess, his pink hair littered with glittering shards of glass.

"It's alright, Natsu," Mirajane softly assured him. "Accidents happen." She let out a giggle. "Especially when alcohol is involved." Or, more rather, accidents happened whenever their friend group convened. Mirajane really should have anticipated something like this happening. "Why don't you get the glass cleaned off of you? Lisanna, could you help him?"

Her sister glanced quickly between the shattered mirror on the floor, to her sister, to Natsu, then back to her sister again. Nodding tightly, she moved to assist Natsu in extricating himself from the epicenter of the disaster, taking him by the arm and leading him towards the bathroom.

"You alright, Sis?"

Mirajane smiled up at her younger brother, who despite his bulk had somehow managed to quietly appear at her side. "It's alright, Elfman. Quite a refreshing start to a housewarming party though, I must say!" When Elfman wasn't dissuaded from his concern, Mirajane passed him her drink to hold, effectively distracting him instead. Turning to the rest of their gathered friends, Mirajane released her hold on her dress and clapped her hands together. "If everyone could move to the dining room, I'd appreciate it."

Quiet conversation sparked amongst them as they dispersed, allowing Mirajane to finally breathe a little in their absence. "Can you get this cleaned up?" Mirajane asked her brother, taking her drink back from him. "I'll get Natsu to help you once he's free. After all… he did cause this little catastrophe." And this would be the last time she ever offered him alcohol.

The corner of Elfman's lips twitched, the urge to smile at the veiled threat in his sister's tone almost too much for his worry to hold back. "A real man cleans up his own messes."

"Indeed they do."

Returning to her guests with the thought of rekindling the party, Mirajane hoped that the superstition about breaking mirrors and seven years bad luck were just that – a superstition.

Or, barring that, that the bad luck would be transferred to Natsu instead, as the perpetrator of the crime.

***

Large, antique mirrors were not easy to replace, as it turned out. At least… not cheaply, they weren't. Natsu's wallet was meager at the best of times, but things had been especially tight for him recently. So here they were, resorting to a flea market in order to find something suitable for Mirajane's wall. At this point, Mirajane was ready to accept pretty much anything within their budget in order to fill the blank space they mirror had occupied. The wall was far too bare for Mirajane's taste. And she wasn't super attached to the idea of a mirror there, anyway. But she did enjoy watching Natsu struggle to find one, under the false assumption that only a mirror would do. She wasn't about to tell him otherwise just yet. Not until she'd squeezed all the fun out of this that she could.

Lisanna and Elfman had decided to accompany the pair on their mirror hunt, vastly enjoying themselves as they fawned over everything that was on offer. With their infectious enthusiasm, it was difficult for Mirajane to hold herself back. She knew that if she allowed herself to cut loose like her siblings, she'd go home weighed down with far more items than she had the space for. As it was, it was looking like she might have to stage an intervention on her siblings before they went ahead and did the same.

Before she could begin any attempt to rein her siblings in, a shout drew her attention away from them. "Mira!" Natsu waved his arm over his head like an excited child, trying to get her attention. "Come look what I found!"

To her great surprise, Natsu had found exactly what they had come for. An antique mirror, with a beautiful iron frame of thorny vines. It was a little smaller than the one Natsu had broken, but that wasn't of much concern to her. It needed a good polishing as well. But the longer Mirajane looked at it, the more she liked it.

"Is this a great find or what?" Natsu asked her with barely contained glee. "And it's cheap, too! So what do you think? Will this work as a replacement for the one I broke?"

The seller blanched at Natsu's words. "You broke a mirror, dude?" he asked, his face the very picture of disgust. "That's like… super hardcore bad luck, man."

Natsu shrugged. "It's working out okay for me so far. I think." Other than Natsu having to pay for the mirror's replacement, anyway.

Looking over the price tag, Mirajane nodded in response to Natsu's earlier question. "Yeah, I think this mirror will work perfectly. Now fork over the cash."

Reminded of his monetary obligation, Natsu sighed, but willingly coughed it up. Then he jolted in surprise as Mirajane thrust the heavy mirror into his arms with a sickly sweet smile upon her face.

"Now you get to carry that back." Her smile spread just a little further. "Though I think you may have to hold onto it for a while. I don't think Lisanna and Elfman are quite ready to head back just yet."

Natsu whimpered, suddenly remembering just why it was Mirajane had been called "Satan Incarnate" back when they were kids. Her modeling career and growing up had hidden the worst of her personality traits, but they were far from gone completely. He sighed, and resigned himself to an afternoon of lugging around the mirror in its iron frame.

***

After waving farewell to her siblings and watching Natsu stagger off with limp arms, Mirajane shut her door and strode down her hallway. Once she arrived at the mirror now hanging on the wall, she smiled at her somewhat foggy reflection. Tomorrow she would see about getting it polished up. For now, though, she was content with having it in its proper place.

Feeling the pangs of hunger, Mirajane turned away from her new mirror and departed for the kitchen.

In her wake, a dark shadow moved within the mirror's depths. It hung there suspended for a long moment, as if in contemplation. And then it faded back away.

For now.

[the-record-newspaper]

The Killing of Rhonda Hinson: Part II

Rhonda Hinson and Greg McDowell

(Editor’s Note:  The 1980’s was a violent decade for women in Wilkes and surrounding counties.  At least four young women were murdered between 1981and 1987—their cases remain unresolved:  Rhonda Hinson of Burke County — who has relatives in Wilkes County, Angela Hamby of Wilkes, who disappeared in 1982,  Sherry Hart of Ashe County, and Candy Roberson of Wilkes. This series, “The Killing of Rhonda Hinson” is the second in a trilogy of murder cases that will be detailed in The Record over the ensuing weeks and months — cold cases of crimes perpetrated against women over 30-years ago, whose families await justice and closure.)

 By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter

I’m really sorry and I apologize for pushing you.  I really lost my temper and I’m sorry for being so stupid…I’m sorry I’m so jealous, but I can’t help it….—Excerpted from a letter Greg McDowell wrote to Rhonda Hinson during their Senior Year, 1981.

 By all appearances, Greg McDowell and Rhonda Hinson were an ideal match.

Born on Feb. 7, 1963 to Rev. Charles and Betty McDowell, Gregory Lynn shared several early commonalities with Rhonda Hinson. Both were born on a Thursday.  He, like her, also came from a family with two children whose birth orders were identical — an older girl and a younger boy — the age variance, in each instance, between the two siblings was virtually the same.  Additionally, his parents came to North Carolina from South Carolina just as the Hinsons had done.  Even their names — whether given or full — had exactly the same number of letters.  

Interestingly, the differences between them seemed to work to the mutual advantage of each:  Greg was an accomplished student and a medium athlete; Rhonda was the accomplished athlete and a medium student.  In one of his many missives addressed to her, Greg noted that even their dissimilarities were, in fact, complementary in nature.  “…I may be better in Math, but you are a better typer [sic] than me.  We both do some things good and some things not so good.”

No one knows for certain when Rhonda Hinson started dating Greg McDowell; however, there is agreement that it must have been in the Fall of their junior year. During the budding romance, Greg had a penchant for sending cards to his new girlfriend; in fact, there were at least nine cards forwarded to Rhonda during the 1979-1980 school year that remain in the possession of her parents.  One American Greetings “get-well” card noted an early milestone in their relationship:  

…Thanks for the happiest 4 months of my life and always remember that I love you!!! Greg  

P.S. We have 82 years and 8 months to go!

 And in a Hallmark card with an Emily Dickinson quote embossed in gold on the front plate, the young McDowell references yet another milestone; he penned:

You’ve given me much happiness over the past 25 weeks.  Keep it up forever!  I will always love you!

Love, Greg

Unable to locate a suitable greeting card to mark their first-year anniversary, Greg fabricated his own:  a booklet of thirteen 3x5 index cards befittingly stitched together with a bright red ribbon.  Then he authored an amorous aphorism:  

Rhonda, After all we’ve done together

Through hot and cold and snowy weather,

There’s something that I just must say,

On this, our very Special Day;

Looking back on what we’ve done,

I’d say we’ve had some fun;

But as we watched some things go wrong,

We found it helped our Love grow strong;

So, I know one day we’ll be,

Together, Forever—‘Just You-n-Me!’

I want to say one more thing, Pup-E,

Happy Anniversary!!!

I Love You!!

Greg

Other cards contained Valentine’s greetings, pledges of lifelong love and devotion, lamentations of pain catalyzed by the absence of the object of his affection, and “get-well” sentiments.  All were thoughtful — even sweet — overtures proffered by a young man clearly and happily smitten, laced with as much chivalry as could be mustered in Burke County in the 1980’s.  

And Rhonda seemed to delight in the attention she was incessantly receiving from her new suitor.  Mother Judy Hinson concurs, “I would say that during the first year that they dated, Rhonda was truly happy.”  

During the couple’s 1980-81 senior year, cards were supplanted by missives written in pencil and ink upon notebook paper. Rhonda apparently kept most of them — over 25 letters and three cards, carefully preserved by her parents. Though these contained similar, repetitive declarations of lifelong love and devotion; the letters were less playfully reflective of young love and gradually resonated a darker tone — becoming increasingly more insistent, more demanding, more desperate, with a foreboding edge.  

Predictably, disagreements between the two young people arose periodically, and indications of these commenced to appear within the lines of Greg’s handwritten notes, though somewhat downplayed.  

Oh guess what?  We forgot to straighten out that big argument that we didn’t have on the phone last night! I am right!  Basketball is not numero uno in my life!  So there!  That settles that.  Quickly changing the subject….

Admitting to having a “bad day” at school at some juncture, Greg writes:

…I’m sorry about while ago.  I didn’t mean to be like that.  I’m just so tired.  I’m really sorry.  I know you don’t feel too well either; so, let’s try extra hard to be nice to each other, OK?  Thanks for understanding (if you do)…I’m really sorry I was like that while ago.

PS. Come at 6:00 unless you here [sic] from me.  We’ll get some supper if you want any. I will be hungry.

Almost imperceptible at first, the letters began to assume an austere tone, indicative of more pervasive upheavals.  

Rhonda…I am not eating lunch today; I’m sitting where we were at break today and I’m writing you this letter.  It’s kind of hard to hold back the tears; so, if this paper is wet, you will know why. I just can’t imagine us not being together and when I think of it, I go to pieces.  I want you to know that I love you now and I always will love you. I never want to hurt you and I would never intentionally hurt you.  I’m sorry, very sorry about the things I said…I want you to know that I didn’t mean it. I want us to go on like we were and forget about this.  I love you very much and I don’t want this or anything else to pull us apart.  

I know I make lots of mistakes; but, I try so hard to make you happy….All I ask in return is love and understanding…Please forgive me when I make you mad and try to think about the good things I do for you…I really do love you and I’m sorry I hurt you, really.

 The tenor of Greg’s notes and letters recommends to suspicion that he was becoming increasingly frustrated by Rhonda’s ostensible lack of reciprocity.  He would take the time — even class time when he was bored — throughout the day to write a note to be hurriedly delivered to Rhonda as he passed her in the hallway, while en route to other classes and activities that the two did not share. Periodically, he relied upon the “Mercury” services of a friend to discreetly pass along his impromptu messages, garnering little — if any — response from the girl he loved.  

“Rhonda just wasn’t that type of girl — she wasn’t very demonstrative of feelings,” Judy Hinson recollected.  “In fact, she was very private about them.  She wouldn’t even cry in front of us — and she hardly ever said, ‘I love you.’”

Perhaps Greg failed to understand that predilection or felt that he could somehow motivate Rhonda to become more responsive to him.  It is not surprising that he began to vent his frustration within pointed paragraphs:

…From now on, I’m not going to mention anything about you writing me a note at lunch. It’s up to you, anyway, and I can’t do anything about it.  If you want to write something you will and if you don’t you won’t.  But I’m not saying I don’t care, because I do care and I want you to write but I can’t make you.  So, it’s up to you…From 8:20 – 3:03, I see you every bit of 25 minutes…So, please understand why I want you to write during lunch. Ok?

With each passing day of the senior year, Greg McDowell seemed to grow more insecure about the relationship he had with Rhonda Hinson.  His increased uncertainty triggered a proportional surge of jealousy that commenced to subtly surface.  In one postal script appended to a note he admonishes, “Don’t flirt with the customer’s [sic] at work.”  But during one full-blown jealous conflagration, Greg became physically aggressive for which he later apologized — in a letter, of course:

Dear Rhoda,

I’m sorry and I apologized for pushing you. I really lost my temper and I’m sorry for being so stupid.  Please forgive me. Really, I’m sorry for pushing you. I just lost my temper. Please understand. I love you and you can do anything you want to me to get me back. I deserve it. I’m sorry I’m so jealous, but I can’t help it.  When I read the part about ‘love ya’ and ‘wish I’d gotten to know you a lot sooner’ and ‘see you at work this summer’ and ‘play tennis with you this summer,’ I naturally got upset. I hope you don’t care for him. If you don’t you shouldn’t mind me beating his ass.  

I love you,

Greg

In a series of reflective recollections that Judy Hinson penned on notebook paper, she proffered this observation:  “I think [Rhonda] enjoyed Greg’s being jealous and possessive [at first] but then I think she had gotten tired of his demanding to know everything she did — where she went, who she talked to — everything.”

One of the recurring themes articulated through the letters of Greg McDowell was his desire for Rhonda to return to being her ebullient, insouciant self subsequent to an argument or misunderstanding. Several times he cajoles her to be happy, to smile, and to be glad to see him.  In one of his short missives, Greg reassures Rhonda that he loves her and that it hurts him to see her “sad, upset, or worried.”  Then he appends a poignant postal script:  

“You’d better be happy and smile and be your usual self tonight or I’ll shoot you with my shotgun!”

Rhonda Hinson had approximately12 months to live.

[enixamyram]

Jealous

Summary: Robin wasn't the kind of girl to get jealous. She just wasn't. She wasn't. Really!... But if that bitch didn't keep her hand to herself then she was going to lose it!

  With the steady beat of pop music playing behind her to fill the silence, Robin paused mid pose in front of a new full-length mirror that sat in the corner of her room, just opposite the doorway. She put her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side and turning slightly, evaluating her reflection critically in a way she hadn't done for years. She turned in a full circle, looking at every possible angle she could, even checking over her shoulder to see how it looked from behind. Then she faced the mirror and paused again. Finally, she pulled off the jacket she had been examining on herself and tossed it onto the ever-growing pile on her bed. Almost angry now, Robin spun around and snatched a jumper that was lying over the back of a nearby chair, pulling it on over her grey blouse for just a few minutes before that too follow her jacket onto the bed.

  This was so much easier back in Storybrooke. Alexandra had been crazy about clothes and fashion and whether Robin wanted her advice or not, she always got it. Back then she had been younger, and had tried a little harder to fit in with what the other girls in school were wearing and doing on the weekends. Now that she was older, she rarely bothered trying to look nice like that, focussing more on being practical instead, choosing comfort over stylish and dark earth colours to blend in during the hunt over bright neon colours to stand out for cute crushes and so on. Ironically, now that she no longer had the pressure of fitting in, she would have greatly appreciated having a bossy blonde tell her what looked best for a long night out.

  Sighing, Robin went back to her wardrobe, but it was almost completely bare now. The only things left were the scruffy clothes she wore when she didn't mind making a mess, aka the ones already stained beyond recognition of what their original colours were supposed to be. Hardly suitable for going anywhere nice in. And while the place that they were going wasn't exactly over the top fancy, Robin still wanted to make sure she looked her very best for it. After all, it was the first time that she and her girlfriend were going out for a proper date in town.

  Before today, their dates were more private. They had the kind of dates where they took long walks in the forest or found quiet places in fields and by rivers and waterfalls in order to be alone with one another and enjoy the beautiful atmosphere around them. Occasionally they were a little more adventurous, climbing mountains and going deep underground into long forgotten caves and tunnels but despite what they did, it was always just the two of them. Their getting together hadn't exactly been conventional in the first place and neither girl had considered having a date night in the way other people might, at least not when it came to going out in public for dinner and drinks and over eager entertainment surrounding by other couples doing the same. It wasn't until a few days ago that they decided to do anything different.

  As usual they had been relaxing together on their own personal date. At that time, they had been sitting together on Robin's balcony while she fired lazy arrows off into the trees bellow for target practice and Alice stretched back on the floor, smiling under the warm afternoon sun. Robin had been telling Alice about some of the things she would probably be doing if she still lived in Storybrooke, and she had ended up laughing about how the girls she had known probably wouldn't understand their personal dates out. Alice had quizzed her about it and eventually, after she had finished explaining, Alice surprised her by asking if she could take Robin out for a proper date like the ones her old classmates had back in Storybrooke.

  Robin had been unsure about it at first. She was never much for dressing up and going out, even back when she still lived in Storybrooke where it was almost expected of her. She did it because it was expected of her, but she didn't especially love it. Hell, she didn’t even really like it. But Alice had been so excited by the idea, and Robin didn't have it in her to turn her down. So, she agreed to take Alice into town where they could find a place to have a meal and a drink together one quiet evening. They didn’t have any plans for after, but it was heavily implied that they would both end up at Robin’s like most evenings they spent together.

  With another sigh of disappointment – though this one that was starting to sound more like an impatient huff – Robin turned back to the pile of clothes lying on the end of her bed. She walked over, dividing the larger pile into two slightly smaller piles. One on the floor; aka the ones she had absolutely no interest in even pretending to think about, and one on the other side of the bed; aka the ones she was at the very least considering, even if she was doing so somewhat unhappily. The pile on the floor was much bigger than the one on the bed.

  Robin stripped down to her underwear and quickly redressed again. She pulled on a light green low-neck blouse that her mother had gotten her for her twenty first birthday and a pair of dark brown trousers that were tight against her legs. The trousers had actually been brought for hunting, since their colour blended in easily with the woods she crept through at night, but she hadn't had a chance to try them out just yet, so they still look brand new and halfway decent. Robin was just beginning to consider it when she found the only shoes that matched the outfit were an extremely worn out and filthy pair of hunting boots.

  Without even an irritated sigh, Robin stripped back down once more and tossed the clothes back onto the bed with the others. This time she pulled on a pair of dark blue shorts she normally saved for the summer and a yellow long sleeve soft cotton jumper she’d never really liked but her aunt insisted looked good on her. Robin pulled a face at herself, undressing and pulling back on the dark brown trousers and the green blouse for a second try. It was by far the better outfit she had out of the lot. But she still didn't have any damn shoes to go with it!

  “You look nice.”

  By now, Robin was used to her mother’s sudden magical appearances. She'd been dealing with it for as long as she could remember. However, she wasn't used to her appearing directly into her bedroom like this. Normally Zelena was pretty good when it came to knocking on the door, or even the wall if the door was open, before she just walked in. The only exception was when she was worried or angry, the most recent example being when she stormed in because she thought something was wrong with Robin when she came home to find her playing the music louder than normal. In the end it turned out Robin was simply using the music to entertain her girlfriend while things… Let’s say heated.

  “Everything okay?” Robin asked, trying to subtly kick some of the clothes under the bed but considering she had almost her entire wardrobe out, it wasn't all that subtle.

  “I heard you huffing and storming about.” Zelena said with a knowing smile.

  “I wasn't storming.” Robin said immediately.

  “Right.” Zelena said, unconvinced. “Anyway, you do look nice. I like the outfit.”

  “I don't.” Robin lied, digging through the remaining clothes on the bed.

  “Why not?” Zelena blinked.

  “I don't have any shoes to go with it. Not anything nice at least.” Robin grumbled, pulling out a white long sleeved loose jacket that she pulled over the top, covering that with her usual dark brown vest. It had a series of secret pockets specifically for hidden weapons. Maybe she had something that would at least go with her jackets?

  “What about your hunting boots? They’d look nice with it.” Zelena noted.

  “They're a mess.” Robin explained, pulling them out from by the wall and showing her mother the tattered remains. “I need new ones.”

  Without a word, Zelena waved a hand in front of her and suddenly all the dirt vanished, and all the splits and strains neatly knit themselves back together. Within seconds the boots looked as good and new as her trousers did.

  “There.” Zelena said proudly. “All better!”

  Robin hesitated, then offered her mother a small smile. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Now hurry up. Alice is waiting downstairs.” Zelena said, her teasing smile back again.

  Robin dropped onto a clear spot on the bed, quickly pulling the boots on her feet. She no longer cared about her outfit or how she looked, and instead rushed to tie up the straps and laces tightly halfway up to her knees, biting her lip raw with sudden intense concentration. When she was done, she instinctively reached for the bow and arrow sitting by her desk before hesitating, her hand hovering in the air for a second.

  “Leave it.” Zelena said, when she saw her mental struggle. “You're not going to run into any trouble in town.”

  “There's always a chance for trouble.” Robin said, pulling her quiver over her head and grabbing her bow.

  “It ruins your outfit.” Zelena noted with a slight pout. “Why don't you just take that shell I gave you. The little one you can slip in your pocket. If you run into any trouble, give me a call and I'll come get you out of it.”

  “Thanks, but I'm old enough to take care of myself, mum.” Robin shrugged. “And I don't think Alice minds if I've got my weapons with me.”

  Zelena sighed. “Alright. Go on, don't keep her waiting any longer.”

  Robin smiled at her as she ducked passed, running down the steps two at a time and jumping the last three onto the ground floor with a loud thud. She paused only then, taking a quick breath to calm herself before she walked into the living room where Alice was waiting for her.

  As the other girl walked in, Alice quickly stood up to greet her. Unlike Robin, Alice didn't have a wide range of clothes to choose from and so had to settle with giving her usual ankle length dress a thorough wash and dry before coming out tonight. Something that she was now becoming very self-conscious about. Especially while seeing Robin all dressed in such a lovely and new looking outfit of her own. The only new thing that Alice had included on her person was a pair of brown leather gloves that her father had recently given her and even they were already beginning to look scruffy after constant wear.

  “Hey,” Robin beamed, stepping up to hug her. “How are you?”

  “I'm great... You look beautiful.” Alice said, her voice sounding almost dreamy as she looked her love up and down slowly.

  “You too.” Robin grinned.

  Alice shrugged, looking a little put out. “I'm not wearing anything special.”

  “Doesn't matter. You always look beautiful.” Robin replied.

  “Alice, sweetheart, do you want to borrow something from my closet?” Zelena asked suddenly from behind them.

  “Oh no, it's fine.” Alice said immediately, holding up her hands and feeling her face warm up.

  “Come on!” Zelena insisted. “You both deserve to look nice for your night out. In fact, I have the perfect dress in mind!”

  Before Alice could say anything else, Zelena had already waved her hand at her. Robin stepped back as a puff of green smoke surrounded Alice's body, swirling around her completely before it faded and drifted away, leaving Alice a little startled and largely done up. Now she found herself standing in a dark red silk dress that fell down passed her knees with a pattern of black outline roses that covered it and simple short sleeves with black boots that went halfway up her calves, very much like Robin’s hunting boots only much darker. The only thing she still had were the brown leather gloves and even they had been freshly cleaned and fixed up so much that she almost didn’t recognise them. It was only because they had her initials stitched on the front of her wrist that she knew they were still the ones given by her papa.

  “Much better!” Zelena beamed.

  “Mum, do we need to have a talk about boundaries.” Robin hissed, watching Alice's shocked face nervously. It was impossible to tell if her mother had officially crossed the line this time.

  “She looks great!” Zelena insisted.

  “It's very nice...” Alice said, staring down at herself and gently stroking the dress in fascination. “But I can't wear it.” She looked up, shaking her head. “It’s too nice.”

  “Nonsense. In fact, you can keep it.” Zelena shrugged. “Robin's not much of a dress girl but, to be honest, it suits you more anyway! Think of it as a gift. Now go on! Both of you! Go enjoy your date!”

  “Are you okay with this?” Robin asked quietly, taking Alice's hand.

  Alice hesitated then shrugged shyly with a small smile. “Yeah, I mean... It's a lovely dress.”

  “You heard her! She likes it! Now go!” Zelena said, waving her hand again.

  The next thing the girls knew they were surrounded by a cloud of green smoke and then were left standing right outside the house. Robin, far used to it by now, rolled her eyes and shrugged it off with only slight annoyance, even while Alice was still trying to get her bearings and instinctively reaching a hand out to steady herself. When she no longer felt like she was going to fall over, she found herself running her hands down over her legs and shoulders like she was checking all her limbs were still there. The material of the dress was soft, something she could tell even through her thick leather gloves and she found herself caught between loving it and feeling guilty about just taking something clearly so special. At the very least it wasn’t something Alice could have afford on her own.

  “Sorry,” Robin said when she saw Alice looking down at herself. “Maybe next time we plan a date we should do it when mum isn't home.” She hesitated. “You do look gorgeous in that dress, though.”

  “Really?” Alice said, smiling and blushing slightly at the compliment.

  “Truly.” Robin leaned over and kissed her. “Now let's go eat!”

 O*U*A*T

  There weren't exactly any five-star restaurants in this world, but neither Alice nor Robin wanted (nor could they even afford) to go anywhere that was over the top in the first place. They were a lot happier taking the short walk down to one of the quiet towns closest to Robin's home where a local, but still quite popular, bar was waiting for them. When Robin had asked her mother for advice about places she could take Alice for their date, this was one of the first ones she named as being the most friendly with the best food to match. Even though Alice had technically asked her out, they silently agreed that Robin would need to plan the where, since she knew the public area here a lot better than Alice did.

  For the whole walk there, they caught up their day with one another and quickly became so lost in conversation that it felt like no time had passed before they had reached their destination. It wasn't much to look at from the outside. The kind of place that seemed small on the outside and very basic, nothing exactly special in its brick and wooden structure. In fact, the only thing that almost made it stand out was the short set of stairs that led to an equally short porch in front of the main doors.

  However, as soon as they stepped inside, Alice was taken aback by just how big the space was, as well as how brightly decorated and all out nice it was. There was a soft piano melody being played from an unknown source throughout the room with only a small amount of chatter from the customers to disrupt it. On one end of the room, opposite the entrance, was a long wooden counter where several people were running back and forth, serving drinks and food to those that waited patiently for them on the other side, while the rest of the room was littered with round wooden tables and matching chairs tucked up against them, some large enough for a dozen people while some so small they looked like they barely comfortable sat one. The people already inside were deep in their separate conversations with friends and barely noticed Alice and Robin as they stepped through the doors, while the few that did glance up, looked away again almost instantly. Guess they didn't make much of an impression.

  It wasn't until Robin moved ahead, pulling Alice along slightly behind her, that she noticed the way Alice was clinging to her hand. And it was only when she glanced back at her and saw the way she kept playing with her dress (mostly the skirt, which was shorter than she was used to) and looking around the room that Robin realised how nervous she probably was. While this was her idea, and she no doubt was happy to be doing it, this was also probably the first time she had been in such a crowded space like this, dressed the way she was, for a romantic night with her girlfriend. But then, saying that, even Robin was feeling a little nervous. This wasn't exactly her usual comfort zone either.

  Before Robin could suggest they take a moment to go stand by one of the many fires against the far walls away from the others, Alice seemed to shake off her nerves – or at least tuck them out of sight – and took charge, storming ahead so it ended up with her pulling Robin along. They walked straight up to the counter instead and were almost immediately greeted by a pretty, young waitress with straw like blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

  “Hey there, ladies. What can I get you?” The waitress asked cheerfully.

  “Some menus and a table please.” Robin asked, trying to sound like she knew what she was doing. On the few occasions that she had gone out for whatever reason, it was normally with her mother who always handled the formalities of the evening.

  “Coming right up, just give me a second.” The waitress said, vanishing back into one of the rooms behind the counter.

  “So, what do you think?” Robin asked after the girl had left, subtly flexing her fingers behind her back. Alice had a stronger grip than she gave her credit for.

  “Great,” Alice beamed excitedly. “It’s really nice here.”

  “Yeah.” Robin said, pretending to agree. She was enjoying herself, at least, but only because of Alice being there with her.

  “You are not very convincing, you know.” Alice noted, cocking her head to the side curiously. “Don’t you like it?”

  “I am!” Robin insisted. “This just... Isn't what I'm usually into.” She admitted. “The truth is, I just prefer our normal hang outs. I've never been that interested in this kind of thing, even when I was back in Storybrooke.” She quickly added. “But I don’t hate this or anything. In fact, I am excited to try it out with you. I bet it'll be a lot more fun!”

  Alice beamed at her. “I'm looking forward to my first dinner out with you, too. Plus, this place really is nice.” She repeated, looking around the room. “I was actually expecting something really showy and loud. Something that was going to make me really uncomfortable but it’s not like that at all. I actually feel like this place is perfect, even.”

  “Yeah, mum did a good job for once.” Robin joked with a bright laugh.

  “I wish I could have done this with papa,” Alice said wistfully, turning away for a moment before she looked back at Robin, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair behind her love’s ear. “But I'm glad I could do it with you, all the same.”

  “Me too,” Robin said sincerely, putting her hand over Alice's and holding it against her cheek. For a quiet moment it felt like it was just the two of them.

  Then their quiet moment was broken all too quickly by the reappearance of the waitress, holding a pair of menus in one hand and a small palm sized notebook in the other with a pen pinched between her index finger and her thumb. She quickly turned and led the girls back across the room to a small two-person table by one of the few windows lining the wall. It didn't have much of a view but there was a small glimpse of the sky which, when the dark clouds moved out the way, showed some of the warm evening colours from the start of the suns set. It would be dark before they were finished eating. Alice’s favourite time of day.

  “Is this okay?” She asked them. “Or would you prefer to be further in the back away from the breeze?”

  “No, the breeze is wonderful, thank you.” Robin said, feeling relieved to be even just a little closer to the outside like she preferred.

  As the girls took their seats opposite one another and accepted their menus, they quickly ordered a glass of ice water each and watched the waitress hurry back to the counter where a large crowd was beginning to gather. It seemed they had come on quite a busy night. Luckily the tables around them were mostly deserted, except for the table behind Alice which had three girls a little older than them sitting together, finishing off what looked like a quick bite to eat and laughing with one another loudly and a little obnoxiously. Not that it was their fault. They were all having a good time. It was just one of the many reasons Robin preferred quiet dates in the woods to ones where other people’s fun could ruin yours.

  “This all looks very... Fancy.” Alice said finally, frowning down at the long list of meals in her hand.

  “Actually, I think you'll find this is pretty standard stuff. The kind you’d get from anywhere” Robin explained automatically. Alice felt the beginning of embarrassment at how obvious Robin made that sound, but the feeling faded just as quickly when Robin continued saying; “But I get what you mean. It's more than either of us is used to, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah,” Alice agreed, then said sweetly. “Tell you what. You know about this stuff and you know me. So why don't you order for the both of us? Think of it as a girlfriend test.”

  Robin stared at her suspiciously. “Are you just unloading on me, so you don't have to make a choice yourself?”

  Alice leaned forward so she was half lying on the table, arms resting around either side and a soft pout on her lips. “Would I do that?”

  Grinning down at her, Robin nodded slowly. “Fine. I'll pick for us both.”

  Alice jumped up to her feet, leaning across the table and kissing Robin quickly. Or at least, she tried to. Her jump may have been a little overly enthusiastic and before she could give Robin her kiss, the chair she was sitting on had been kicked back by the heels of her feet, falling and hitting the arm of one of the girl closest to Alice at the table behind her.

  “Oh,” Alice said quickly, turning and holding her hands up in surrender. “Sorry!”

  “It's okay,” The girl she accidentally hit smiled, pushing her dark hair out of the way of her dark blue eyes with a little flip. “I never mind getting knocked into by someone so long as they’re cute.”

  Alice smiled at her, a little shyly now but also still quite pleased, before righting her chair and turning back to face Robin. Once she was facing forward, she found herself giving a much more openly pleased smile at her girlfriend, raising her eyebrows a little her like she was both showing off and a little taken aback by the compliment. Robin grinned back at her, loving that expression on her love’s face. It was somehow the perfect blend of being adorably innocent and mischievously knowing at the same time.

  However, Robin much preferred it when she was the reason for that smile. But then, the night was young, and Robin was willing to play a game with herself to see how many times she could get that look out of Alice before their dinner date was over.

  “I'm Henrietta by the way.” The girl said, leaning back in her seat to look at Alice. “But everyone just calls me Ettie.”

  “Alice.” Alice said happily, giving her a bright friendly smile. “And this is Robin.”

  “Hi,” Robin said, giving a little wave. She supposed one good thing about coming out was that you at least got a chance to meet new people.

  “I don't think I've seen you around before.” Ettie said, never taking her eyes off of Alice. Robin felt a little offended but quickly brushed those thoughts aside. Alice rarely got a chance to properly interact with people like this, and Robin was hardly going to interrupt just because she wasn't getting enough attention. She wasn't a child.

  “I'm not from around.” Alice shrugged. “I'm from... Let's say all over.”

  “Oh, a traveller. I'm jealous.” Ettie laughed, pushing her chair right back so she was by Alice's side now.

  “It is a pretty good life.” Alice grinned. “Better than being locked inside all day every day.”

  Despite the fact that she clearly didn’t get the joke (it was more of an inside one anyway) Ettie laughed. In fact, she seemed to laugh a little more loudly than was deserved, even if you knew the joke, and Robin felt forced to join in, knowing she would just feel more awkward if she just sat there, watching them. But even with obviously forced laughter, Ettie still didn't even glance her way. And her friends were both whispering and giggling quietly to one another on the other end of the table, glancing at Alice and Ettie with cheeky sparks in their eyes that made Robin more than a little uncomfortable.

  “You'll have to take me along one day.” Ettie said, grinning at Alice in a way that made the whole conversation feel a whole lot less innocent. Robin blinked and forced her face to relax when she realised she had started to frown at them.

  “No offence, but I don't think you could keep up.” Alice said jokingly.

  “Oh, you'd be surprised at how well I could keep up.” Ettie said suggestively, raising an eyebrow and smiling at Alice.

  Robin was frowning again. She tried to wipe the look from her face and smile at them but judging by the look one of Ettie's friends shot her, her smile wasn't very friendly or convincing. Well tough. What else did they expect? Who the hell was this Ettie girl to start talking to Alice like that? In fact, what kind of girl just randomly started talking to other girls in that way? It was pathetic. Totally pathetic.

  “Maybe I could show you one time.” Ettie said casually.

  Okay, now she was really starting to annoy Robin. Who even talked like that? And who ignored her two friends in favour of talking to a stranger who accidentally bumped into you? This girl was a freak, that was for sure.

  “I'd really like to get to know you and hear about all these travels.” Ettie went on. “It's kind of an unrealised dream of mine to see the world.���

  “How original.” Robin mumbled, rolling her eyes.

  Alice suddenly looked back at her and she quickly smiled, hoping it didn't look as tight it felt on her chest. Ettie was either completely blanking Robin out of spite, or she was just so completely deaf and dumb that she really didn’t hear Robin’s not so quiet comment. After a moment of Ettie's non-stop talking, Alice shot Robin one last puzzled expression before looking back at her new friend. Robin did her best to look nonchalant about it, but she had a feeling that her lips were a little more strained than her normal smile was but at least Alice didn’t seem to notice… Though a part of Robin was starting to wish she would.

  “I really love that dress.” Ettie said, eyes trailing down Alice’s body and suddenly Robin felt a scream echoing inside her head, pressing her lips tightly together to keep it from escaping.

  “Thanks,” Alice said, smiling down at herself, glancing up at Robin. “Robin’s mum gave it to me. She’s very generous.”

  “Well it looks fantastic on you.” Ettie went on, still not even wasting a glance in Robin’s direction. It was infuriating but at least this time Alice seemed to notice. She frowned slightly and cocked her head at her but didn’t say anything.

  Ettie continued to be oblivious about Alice’s frown, or the fact that Alice was not actively offering any conversation on her part and kept going, pushing her chair back even further to look at her properly. “What's the most romantic place you've been? In your travels, I mean.” Ettie continued asking.

  “Oh, that's easy.” Robin said quickly, jumping in before she could stop herself. She was determined to make Ettie acknowledge that she was there. To make her realise that Alice was very much taken. “A beautiful clearing by the water where you can see the stars. We go there a lot. Don't we, Alice?”

  Alice looked at Robin again with not quite a frown on her forehead, while Ettie finally seemed to begrudgingly notice Robin sitting there and gave her a friendly smile in return. Was it just Robin's imagination or was that smile a little cold? In fact, it looked a little smug too. Bitch.

  “Cool.” Ettie said simply.

  “Maybe you should go there with your partner.” Robin said, giving a cold smile of her own.

  “Oh, I don't have a partner.” Ettie said, turning back to Alice and just like that, Robin was once again forgotten.

  “Wonder why.” Robin grumbled, this time too quietly for even Alice to hear.

  Ettie had somehow turned the conversation to the things she had seen in life. She put on a voice like it was so amazing but compared to the life that Robin and Alice had, hers was a boring kiddies story.

  Yawn.

  But for some reason, probably manners, Alice was acting like her stories were actually interesting. And Robin knew she was acting. Her finger was drawing little circles on top of the table, the way she did when she wasn't really paying that much attention because she was just a tad bored of what was being said. But at the same time, she was being polite and letting them prattle on and the finger twirling was her attempt to keep from showing just how bored she was. Robin didn’t know why she didn’t just tell her to shut up already?

  The dip in Robin's stomach was suddenly growing into a large painfully pit. So much so that she was beginning to feel a little sick by it. She wanted to say something but at the same time, Robin was afraid of ruining their date by making a scene over what was probably nothing. No, it was definitely nothing. Despite Ettie's best attempts, nothing she did or said would get her anywhere with Alice. So why was Robin still feeling like the whole night was being ruined?

  “Tell you what. I'll take you to one of my places, and you can take me to one of yours.” Ettie said, reaching out and putting a hand on Alice's leg, just above her knee.

  A hot fury burned inside Robin so hard and fast that she almost choked when she drew in a sharp breath. She resisted the urge to cough as best as she could and tried to relax her suddenly tense body, watching as Ettie stared right into Alice's eyes like they had known each other forever. And what the hell was her hand doing, still lingering on Alice's leg like that? Even as Alice clearly tried to shuffle back away from her, Ettie just leaned even closer. And when Alice glanced sideways at Robin, she couldn’t even bring herself to mask the distaste in her mouth and grimaced slightly when she tried to un-crease her forehead. When Alice raised an eyebrow, Robin gave a tight smile and a little shrug. An almost ‘what’re you gonna do’ gesture because what else could she do?

  Okay, calm. Breath. Robin quietly scolded herself. Robin wasn't some silly teenage girl in school who overreacted and got territorial over people. She was mature enough to not be bothered by stuff like this. Besides, Robin wasn't the kind of girl to get jealous. She just wasn't. She wasn't. Really!... But if that bitch didn't keep her hand to herself then she was going to lose it!

  “Have you decided?”

  The voice startled Robin and she looked up to find the waitress back, notebook and pen poised in hand at the ready, staring at her expectantly. Robin blushed and looked down at the menu, realising she hadn't been even thinking about food since Ettie started talking with Alice. She had barely looked at the options.

  “Uh...” Robin stuttered.

  “If I may...” Ettie said, slowly leaning right against Alice in order to point to something on the menu in front of her. “That is definitely the best thing you could get here.” Her face was practically touching Alice's. And, of course, Alice barely seemed to notice, glancing from the menu up at Robin curiously. Robin purposely didn’t look at her, trying to quickly pick something and ignore how frustrating it was, seeing Ettie and Alice so close from the corner of her eye.

  “Oh really?” Alice said in vague distracted interest.

  “Yeah.” Ettie turned to face Alice at the same time as she turned to look at her. It ended with them being a whisper away from accidentally kissing-

  Before she had even realised what was happening, Robin had stood so sharply that her chair was thrown backwards, tipping over behind her, and her hands hit the table loud enough so that the sound echoed a bang throughout the room. It was enough of a noise to cause the waitress to take a startled step back and silence most of the people within earshot, including Ettie and her friends. They now stared at her in shock, except for Ettie who looked surprised and a little annoyed. Like she had any right to be annoyed!

  Ignoring all of the looks she was getting from them, as well as the other guests who happened to be close by, Robin pushed away from the table and strode around in front of the waitress, moving over to stand on the other side of Alice. She leaned right down, putting one arm around Alice's shoulders protectively and the other on Alice's hand resting over the menu, entwining their fingers and squeezing tightly, all the while glaring at Ettie.

  “Would you mind giving my girlfriend some space.” Robin said coldly, trying to unclench her jaw long enough to get the words out.

  Ettie looked like she tasted something foul and made a dramatic show of throwing her hands in the air, leaning back away from them before she turned and scooted her chair back under her own table. She scowled the whole time and her friends were now glaring daggers at Robin, practically spitting whispers to each other. Yeah, maybe she had been a bit rude about it, but what did they expect when Ettie had been inches away from sexually assaulting the woman Robin loved?

  Before Robin had a chance to step back towards her seat and resume their dinner date, Alice had jumped onto her feet and pushed past her. She was striding halfway to the door as Robin got her balance and tried to process what had just happened between them.

  “Looks like your girlfriend doesn't want to be near you right now.” Ettie smirked.

  Robin resisted the urge to swear (or do a whole lot worse), and instead settled for a sharp glare before she turned and broke into a run after Alice. She ignored the waitress completely, who was looking very irritated with her now, and the many odd looks she got from the other customers – including one creep who winked at her for whatever reason – and dashed straight through the doors as quickly as she could, nearly running directly into Alice from where she was waiting just on the other side.

  “There you are. I thought you were right behind me.” Alice said calmly. “Come on, let's go. The nights still young so let's go grab something to eat somewhere else before we call it quits.”

  “Wait.” Robin blinked, coming to a sharp stop just before she crashed into her. “You're not annoyed?”

  “Why would I be annoyed?” Alice asked, cocking her head in confusion.

  “Uh... Because I got all territorial?” Robin asked a little embarrassed, playing through the scene in her head and realising how crazy and stupid she must have looked back there. No wonder Alice made a break for it.

  “Oh that?” Alice laughed. “I thought that was pretty hot.” She grinned at Robin, raising her eyebrows.

  “Then why did you run?” Robin asked, baffled.

  “Well I thought you wanted to leave. I mean that was why you did what you did, right? Because you'd had enough of it in there? I mean, I know I had.” Alice shrugged. “That Ettie girl was a little desperate for my liking and it was way too stuffy anyway.” She paused and sighed. “At first it was nice in there, but I think I got my hopes a little high and expected more from it. But if that’s the company you have to put up with, so you can’t even have a quiet moment during a date, with a fire burning down your neck and a constant piano play, I think I’m happy to skip it.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously though, what’s wrong with a little cool peace?”

  Robin blinked at her. “Why didn't you say something?” Then paused. “Wait, you knew that bitch was flirting with you? Why didn't you tell her you weren't interested?!”

  “I didn’t say anything because I was trying to tough it out.” Alice explained. “But then you kind of gave us an out and I figured I’d have been a fool not to take it!” She laughed.

  “And the bitch?” Robin demanded.

  Alice shrugged innocently. “I was gonna tell her... But then I saw you and well... I could hardly pass up a chance to see you get all 'territorial' over me.” She grinned again. “You never seemed to care when a guy throws me a compliment when we’re passing by papa’s camp, but a girl does it and suddenly you look like someone just relieved themselves all over your new boots.”

  “You did it to mess with me?” Robin said sharply.

  Shrugging, Alice nodded her head bluntly. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Somehow, despite Alice's casual confession, Robin couldn't bring herself to be annoyed with her. In fact, she suddenly felt like laughing.

  “You are wicked.” Robin said, stepping up to her and smiling slightly.

  “Actually, I think that’s your department. I mean, you are the daughter of the Wicked Witch.” Alice noted, smirking slightly.

  Robin caught sight of Ettie and her friends in one of the windows from the corner of her eye. They were standing and walking towards the exit in their little group, snickering together. Either still laughing about Robin and her reaction or otherwise had completely moved on from it. Either way, it was an incredibly irritating sight.

  “Actually, I'm more petty than Wicked. Would you mind-” Robin started.

  Before she had finished, Alice wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her in for a long kiss. Robin shut her eyes, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and returning the kiss enthusiastically. It was meant to show off in front of that Ettie girl, but the kiss was so distracting that both girls quickly forgot about everyone else and were lost in each other’s hold. By the time they pulled apart, Ettie and her friends had not only left the bar and walked passed them but were also long gone from their sight.

  “This was fun,” Alice said. “We should go places where girls flirt with me more often!”

  “The next girl that flirts with you has five seconds before I punch them.” Robin said immediately.

  “Hmm, girl on girl fight. Wonder if it's as hot as people say it is.” Alice said, looking thoughtful.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Robin said sarcastically, wrapping an arm around Alice's waist and guiding her down the steps and away from the town, trying not to be obviously quick about it.

  So maybe dressing up and going out for evening dinners at restaurants and bars in town wasn't their thing. But that was okay. They were a lot happier just being with each other in quiet places where there wasn't the threat of Robin starting a fight, one that would no doubt get them kicked out of wherever they were anyway. Even if that was something that Alice would have loved to have seen.

[made-in-the-hallway]

1 and 14? 💛

1.The skirtis supposed to be this short.

14.Take. It. Off.

You had been wandering in the shop for way too long. Youonly wanted to find a suitable dress for tonight. Was this too much to ask for? Nomatter how many stores you had already visited, nothing would catch your eye. Youpromised yourself that was the last shop you had entered. If you couldn’t findanything in there too, then you would return to your flat and try to create anoutfit with your existing clothing items.

“Do you need any help dear?”, a lovely lady, whoworked in the shop most probably, asked you and you smiled politely.

“Yes please. I am looking for a dress for a girls’night and I have found nothing so far. Do you have anything to show me?”

“Of course darling! Follow me this way”. Hope startedbuilding up inside you when her response matched her cheery face. Maybe thisshop was your savior. The lady kept picking up some dresses off the racks andyou felt yourself imagining what you would look like in them but you stillweren’t impressed.

“Well, those were the dresses for such an occasion. Ifyou didn’t find yourself liking any of those, we can go on looking  for a skirt”, the lady informed you and youfelt dumb. How did skirts escape your mind? You were so caught up looking for adress that you forgot skirts existed at this point.

“Yes sure!”, you said excitedly and you followed thelady, praying you would at least find a skirt for tonight.

“Okay. I feel like this particular skirt matches youreyes dearly. It is our last piece and I think it is meant for you to buy”, thelady spoke and you gasped at the sight of the skirt. It was navy blue and itwas nothing near tight, which meant that you would be deeply comfortablewearing it all night long.

“Yes! Thank you so much! I will buy it!”, you saidstill not really comprehending that you had finally found the half of youroutfit.

“Well, the cashier is over there sweetie. I am glad I couldhelp you. Have a nice rest of the day!”, the kind lady said and you made your waytowards the cashier to pay. Now the only thing remaining was the blouse or thebutton down shirt you would wear with your skirt.

Walking back to your house you felt your phonebuzzing. Picking it up, you saw that Harry was calling you.

“Hello, Harry”, you greeted him.

“Hi love. Are yeh quite done with your shoppin’?”, heasked.

“Well, yes. I am actually outside the door. Is somethingwrong?”

“No don’t worry babe. Yeh were just taking so long andI was afraid yeh would stay there all day long. But since yeh are comin’, I betterhang up. See yeh!”, Harry jokingly said and you huffed.

“Yeah right, Styles. Love you!”, with that you enteredthe key in the keyhole and left your bag on the floor.

“See? Already here”, you said to Harry, who welcomedyou with a kiss.

“So, let me see the skirt yeh bought babygirl”, hesaid but you cut him off.

“You will only see it when I wear it for the night”,you pecked his cheek and you went to the kitchen. You could really use a glassof water right now.

“I can’t wait till then though”, he said comingtowards you.

‘Too bad you have to. You wouldn’t even have a skirtto admire if it wasn’t for that kind lady who helped me”, you said referring tothe lady who told you to buy the skirt.

“Hm I see. Anyways, I am heading to bed. Will yehjoin?”, Harry said and you contemplated his offer since you still had a few hourssince the gathering.

“I’d love to”, you said taking his head and goingupstairs. You didn’t know how much you wanted to rest your body till you foundyourself lost in Harry’s embrace and on your soft mattress.

After what seemed like a good two hour sleep, youheard your phone ringing. Thank God you had set an alarm to wake up because ifit was up to you, you would wake up the next morning. You tried to wriggleyourself out of Harry’s arms and you stormed off in the bathroom. Deciding on arefreshing shower, you let the water wake you up completely. You couldn’t waittill Harry saw you in your completed outfit. You were already feeling hyper towear it. Getting out of the shower, you straightened your hair after doing yourmagic with your makeup and then went back to the room to try your clothes on; yourbrand new skirt along with a white button down shirt stuffed inside it. Your heelswere the final touch and you were ready.

“I think I am ready. What do you think?”, you turnedyour attention to Harry who was checking his emails on his phone. When his eyesmet your frame though, his lips pursed in a thin line.

“Y/N, love, what’s this?”

“This is my new skirt Harry”, you answered, checkingyourself in the mirror.

“Y/N, I thought we were somewhat over this. This skirtis rather short”, he said, his eyes becoming darker.

“Harry it is a regular skirt. Besides, the skirt is supposed to be this short. Itis how it’s made love”, you said trying to calm him. But it did nothing.

“Yeh won’t be getting’ out of this house in this. Takeit off baby before I come and do so myself”, Harry warned with a hint but youhad made up your mind already.

“I’d like to see you try”, you sassed back.

“Take. It. Off”,Harry snarled and as you checked the clock, you realized you were running outof time.

“Seems like I am going to be late. See you later mylove!”, you said and leaned down to kiss him but before he could grasp yourhand, you were flying down the stairs, leaving Harry behind with a irritatedmind and a bit of a problem between his legs.

Thank you so much for your request lovely anon! I hope you enjoyed reading it! Stay awesome!

[lauraxxtennant]

fic: the trace of pleasure or regret, (2/5)

Previous: One

Ao3

The Doctor was feeling a little bit ridiculous about it, given the circumstances which led to it, but he was experiencing a significant downturn of mood lately, and, however irrational, he wanted to blame it all on his best friend.

His best friend, whose feelings he had, admittedly, probably hurt quite a bit the other night, when he ruined their perfectly lovely snog by rejecting her.

Nevertheless, what she was doing to him now, well. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his fault that he was a Time Lord, and had to be above such things. It wasn’t his fault that saving the universe was basically his occupation and duty, which was objectively more important than indulging his daft fantasies of unspeakable, indescribable, probably bloody fantastic acts of -

It certainly wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t stop thinking about her for five seconds.

It appeared, however, that Rose was all set to punish him for all of this anyway.

Fully aware of how dramatic he was being, he flopped down onto the sofa in the library, arm flung over his head to add to his aura of angst. Usually, if he was lounging about in this room, Rose would be in here with him ‘til her eyelids started to droop and she shuffled off to bed. Tonight, he’d found her in here, perusing the books, sliding along on the ladder that was attached to the shelves. 

She’d been weird with him all day. He’d taken them to Woman Wept, one of her favourite places to visit. It had been a gesture of...well, he wasn’t sure what exactly, but it had probably been largely to do with all the guilt he felt, plus a helping of nostalgia for simpler times.

Last time they were there, they had wandered the frozen waves hand in hand, not a care in the world. Today she barely seemed to look at him. It had still been nice; the scenery was beautiful, and Rose was…Rose, and she had burst out laughing when he’d slipped on the ice. He was so relieved to hear her giggle that he almost did it again on purpose, but she helped him up and he concentrated on the feeling of her hand in his. As soon as he was on his feet again, she’d relinquished her touch, and this, he reiterated to himself, was weird.

Upon their return to the TARDIS, Rose had gone for a bath to warm up, promising to meet him later for a bite to eat in the galley. And then she’d stood him up, which was also weird, because Rose Tyler never forwent dinner.

At the time, he could only conclude that she must’ve been feeling poorly, so he went on a little search for her to check she was all right. Now, he squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned in embarrassment as he recalled the scene when he’d found her.

“Didn’t think theoretical physics was your jam, Rose Tyler,” he’d said, leaning against the bookshelves.

Rose jumped, and clutched tightly onto the ladder. “Doctor! Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He squinted at her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, but her cheeks were tinted pink and this lured him closer, curiosity piqued.

“What are you looking for?” He glanced up at the shelf she was eye level at, near the top of the ladder. Before he’d made her jump, she had been reaching for a particular book, but he couldn’t see what it was from where he was standing.

“Nothing,” she said, a touch too quickly.

“Well that isn’t suspicious at all,” he drawled, and he deftly hopped onto the bottom rung of the ladder, to peer closer at the books she was looking at, nearly resting his chin on her shoulder before thinking twice about it. Her breath hitched as he stood directly behind her, and he realised too late that he’d essentially caged her in.

“Sorry,” he said hastily, and moved to back away, which was when the mortifying thing happened that now made him want to throw himself into the vortex.

The ladder was not, apparently, meant to take the weight of two people. It splintered at the top, dislodging from the track it ran across, and the force of the ladder coming away from the shelves propelled them both to the floor.

He landed with a grunt, and the pain in his back was compounded when a split second later, Rose landed on him too. Reflexively, his arms shot upwards to catch the ladder before it could fall on top of her.

They stayed like that for a moment, in disbelief at what just happened.

“Ouch,” Rose said eventually, breaking the silence. “Um. Doctor. Do you have a death wish or something?”

“What?” he asked, and it was more of a wheeze, because she’d knocked all the air from his lungs (literally, this time, as opposed to all those times he got poetic and lonely and pathetic in the dead of night and thought about the way her smile made him feel.)

“Twice today you’ve fallen on your arse, and this time you decided you had to take me down with you.”

There was definitely amusement in her voice, which was the only positive the Doctor was taking from this entire situation, if he were honest.

He used his remaining energy to fling aside the ladder, and tried to match her tone. “Are you laughing at me, Rose Tyler?”

A small chuckle escaped her. “I mean, it is pretty funny, that you defeat intergalactic dictators several times a month without so much as a scratch, but get bested today by a bit of ice and your own library.”

“Yes, all right, hilarious; now do you mind getting off me so that I can catch my breath back?”

Wincing as she rolled off him onto her knees, she gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.” She sat back, stretching her arms and groaning, probably feeling as bruised as him; he wasn’t exactly a soft landing for her.

“No. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” He sat up, reaching his hand behind him to rub at his lower back. He tried not to think about how typical it was of his luck this week that practically the only time they’d had any physical contact was because of him being an idiot.

Well, to be honest, that they hadn’t had much physical contact at all was also down to him being an idiot, but at least that was him being an idiot for the right reasons.

Besides. Just because he wouldn’t have sex with her didn’t mean she had to stop holding his hand.

These thoughts had plunged him back into his sulk, so when Rose had asked him whether he needed patching up in the medbay, he’d snapped a bit, telling her he was fine.

And he was, really. Apart from his ego, and his stupid hearts, and the way they kept beating too fast when she looked at him like that.

“If you say so,” she’d replied, folding her arms defensively.

They stared at each other for a few moments, and, belatedly because of his distracted thoughts, he asked her if she needed patching up.

“Nah, you took the brunt of it, I reckon. I’m all right.”

Relieved he hadn’t hurt her too much, he sighed, and smiled. “Good.”

He got to his feet, and held out his hand to pull her up, but she evaded his offer, or didn’t notice it. He shoved both his hands in his trouser pockets instead.

As Rose stood up, she tugged on the bottom hem of her pyjama shorts, and he remembered that she’d got ready for bed but hadn’t come to dinner.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked her softly.

Rose shook her head. “No, just tired. Gonna head to bed, I think.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head towards the shelves. “Need me to grab your bedtime reading, now that I’ve wrecked the ladder?”

“It’s fine. Thanks. Think I’ve got something I can read in my room already anyway.”

He intensely disliked the way it suddenly felt so awkward between them. “Right.”

“I’ll, um. I’ll say goodnight, then. See you in the morning.” She pressed her lips together in a tight smile, and made her way out of the room before he even had a chance to reply.

That had been twenty minutes ago, and the Doctor had done nothing but wallow in humiliation in the interim. He peered over the back of the sofa, glancing at the ladder on the floor, and grimaced. What had possessed him to do that? Was he really so far gone that instinctively, his decision had been to get as close to her as he could, no matter the cost to his library furnishings?

He remembered, then, about Rose’s search for something to read. This enlivened him somewhat, because he realised it was the book he’d been so eager to discover, not how Rose would feel all pressed up against his front -

Shaking his head at himself, he got up, and went back to the shelves they’d been standing by. Stretching his arm up to reach the book Rose had been about to grab when he’d wandered in on her earlier, he felt for a good grip on the spine, and brought it down.

He glanced at the cover.

The Essence of Time: A Collection of Essays on Focus, Meditation, and the Ethics of Time Sense.

The Doctor took the book over to the sofa and sat back down, puzzled by what had drawn Rose to this title. Perhaps the TARDIS had been meddling, and told her where to look. But why on Earth would Rose be interested in something like this? For a start, it was written in High Gallifreyan, as were most of the texts on that particular shelf, which was why he’d been so curious about her selection in the first place. He wasn’t even sure <i>he’d</i> read this one, though it had probably been on his required reading list at the Academy several centuries ago.

Very odd.

Confused, and not liking the feeling, he tossed the book onto the coffee table and moved to lie down on the sofa.

His back hurt, his head hurt, and he was fed up, because Rose was being weird, and honestly, he missed her. She was right here, still with him; but he missed her so much.

Nothing, he realised, made sense anymore, which was a suitably melancholic realisation for his somewhat theatrical evening. Sighing heavily, he let himself doze off on the sofa, resigned to the melodrama he’d made of his life tonight.

::

The Doctor had been acting even stranger than usual, lately.

It had to be because of what happened on Desmonia. To say that he had freaked out that night would be an understatement, and though he’d hurt Rose’s feelings with his blatant and definitive rejection, she had tried to put it to the back of her mind for the sake of their relationship. Such as it was.

Every day since, she had woken up, got showered and dressed, and thought positive thoughts as she applied her make-up in front of her bathroom mirror, striving for a smile that would look natural when she greeted the Doctor good morning.

Usually, she didn’t get ready ‘til way after breakfast; bleary-eyed, she would stumble to the galley in her pjs and grumble through her food until her morning tea had sufficiently perked her up. Given the Doctor hadn’t been turning up for their morning meal, however, she had taken to getting ready first, then grabbing a quick slice of toast, eager to seek him out. He’d been in the console room more often than not, doing repairs, or in the library reading.

Speaking of the library, three days ago he’d broken one of her favourite things about it - the ladder that slid along the shelves like something out of Beauty and the Beast. Rose hoped he’d fix it soon, as she had been trying to find out some stuff about Time Lords and his home planet, and she couldn’t reach those books without it, she was too short.

To be honest, she wasn’t sure the TARDIS would even translate them for her; from the glimpses she’d got of the titles the other day, they were all written in that circular loop-y script she took to be Gallifreyan, given that it matched his little post-its to himself that he had stuck on the console screen. But the ship had nudged her towards them, so maybe she would help out some more, and actually translate the texts like she did with the books from everywhere else in the universe.

Rose just wanted to understand him a bit more. Getting him to open up was difficult, and she thought that maybe if she could do a bit of research into how Time Lords were brought up, or what they were taught, then she could see why he was so adamant that they couldn’t act on...whatever it was they were gonna act on last week. And that time on Zen. She shivered, remembering. That had been an even closer call, and she wished - 

In any case, he’d caught her before she could figure anything out, and her mission was aborted. Probably, she wouldn’t like what she’d find, anyway. She half reckoned that the rulebook she’d mentioned he was so keen to stick to actually existed, rather than just a general lesson he’d been taught. She wouldn’t be surprised to find whole tomes dedicated to the negative repercussions of being in a relationship with those his people deemed to be members of ‘lower species.’ Thou shalt not engage in carnal relations with a human, for Time Lords are Much More Important, and Besides, Humans Wither and Die, or something to that effect. Pompous gits.

Regardless, he’d not been himself recently, and she had to sort their situation out somehow. Talking to him directly about it wasn’t her top plan. She hadn’t commented on the way he was secluding himself, not wanting to crowd him. But she soon seemed to cheer him up, she thought, when they got back to normal with their bantering and adventuring. It was just hard in the in-between, when they weren’t sufficiently distracted by what was going on around them. Those easy moments between them, where they always knew what to say or do to diffuse the tension, or having a laugh just hanging out together on the TARDIS; those had vanished, somehow.

He’d withdraw from a hug a bit too soon, or stiffen when she got too close, and it was just so odd. She couldn’t believe that all this time, she must have been encroaching on his personal boundaries or something, if now he didn’t want her near him at all.

They had been so close, before.

Take this morning, for instance. All Rose had done was ask him to hoist her up so she could grab the tree branch (they had been attempting to hide from the Queen of Santabeba’s militia at the time, and the only way to go had been up) and he had looked at her like a spooked animal!

Not for the first time, Rose muttered to herself about bloody Desmonia. He’d have thought nothing of helping her up with a shove to her bum, in an effort to save their lives, before that ridiculous night.

Miraculously, they had made it back to the TARDIS safely today by the late afternoon, and after a short, tense silence in the console room, while the Doctor piloted them into the vortex, he remarked, “That wasn’t our fastest getaway.”

“No, s’pose not,” she said cautiously, wondering what he was getting at.

“You could’ve slipped, you know. Bit risky, that last jump of yours.”

They’d had to swing from tree to tree through the forest canopy, and, admittedly, she’d had a few near misses. “The vine was too far away to reach out and grab,” she said, feeling defensive. “I had to make a jump for it.”

“I have longer arms than you. If you had waited for me, I could’ve got it.”

“It was the adrenaline,” she shrugged, “Didn’t even think, just did it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes, well. That’s something of a trend with you, isn’t it?”

Her hands went to her hips. “Excuse me? What’s your problem, anyway - I didn’t slip! I got hold of it, swung across, and threw it back to you, no problem.”

“If you had waited for me, I could’ve got it, and swung us across together.”

“But it was fine, it worked out okay, so why are you trying to pick a fight about it?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying - and another thing,” he said, changing tack, apparently. “When we landed on the ground again and started to run.”

“Yeah?” she prompted.

“I reached back for your hand but you didn’t take it.”

“Didn’t I?” She frowned, not really remembering. It had all been a bit of a blur. “Sorry, guess I was focussing on running for my life.”

“If you’d taken my hand, we could’ve run a bit faster, like we usually do,” said the Doctor, with a little huff.

Rose watched him fiddle absently with a lever on the console. “What’s going on, Doctor?”

“What?”

“Something’s obviously on your mind, and it’s not about what happened today, so what is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Come on,” she said softly, leaning forward to touch his shoulder, then pulling back, recalling his reactions, lately, when she’d tried to offer comfort. “You can tell me.”

“You’ve been different lately,” he blurted out, then winced.

“I’ve been different?” Rose repeated, frowning in confusion. “Different how?”

“It’s just.” He glanced away from her, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It feels like you’re...I don’t know. Punishing me.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “What?”

“For not…” He tilted his head. “You know.”

Her heart thumped hard in her chest. “Doctor, what are you talking about?”

He whirled around, leaning against the console and fixing her with an intent look. “You’ve stopped touching me,” he said bluntly.

Rose was speechless; she stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

“All those little touches to my arm and my hand and, and! And, Rose Tyler,” he said, growing increasingly animated as he listed his complaints, “To top it all off, you’ve stopped hugging me back!” He pointed at her accusingly for a second, then looked at his hand and lowered his arm. “When you let me near you at all, that is. So, there we are then. I’ve backed off.”

Rose licked her lips nervously, trying to figure out what on earth to say to that. He was being ridiculous. He was the one who’d stopped touching her first! Wasn’t he? He was the one being all distant and moody and -

“Well?” he prompted, standing up straight and scratching at the back of his neck. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” she asked, bewildered by this entire conversation.

His eyes flashed with impatience. “Are you withdrawing your...your affectionate touches to punish me for not instigating a sexual relationship with you?”

Rose blushed fiercely. “Oh my god. Doctor! Of course not!”

He went still, looking surprised. “Then, why?”

“You’re the one who’s been acting weird,” she protested, shaking her head as she took a few steps closer to him. “I’ve just tried to go on as normal.”

“No,” he protested right back, also shaking his head. “No, normal would be you holding my hand. Normal would be us hugging once a day - at the very least. Normal would be you standing next to me and sitting close on the jumpseat and not flinching every time I so much as brush against your shoulder.”

“I don’t flinch,” she muttered, but he kept going.

"The only time we've had much contact at all was when we accidentally fell off that ladder the other day and you landed on top of me!"

"What?"

“And the only thing I can think of that can be the cause of all these changes between us is that…well, that night. That conversation.”

“When you told me you don’t want me,” she said, not appreciating him bringing it up. An unhelpful reminder, she thought, given that he’d told her to never discuss it ever again.

To her frustration, he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want you, don’t twist my words.”

“What, then you do want me?” she retorted. “Because I think you were pretty clear that my, what was it you called them? Advances. You made it very obvious that my ‘advances’ weren’t welcome, so.” She shrugged.

“So you admit it, you have been punishing me for it.”

“What? No, I didn’t say that. I’m not - Jesus, Doctor. I’m not that petty. I’m not gonna deliberately hurt you just because you evidently think I’m repulsive - ”

“Okay, because your tone of voice right now isn’t petulant at all,” he remarked, raising his eyebrows. “And stop doing that, you know that’s not true. You know that’s not why I…”

“Rejected me?” she put in, when he trailed off. She heaved a sigh. “Look. I don’t know why we’re going over this again. You said not to mention it, so I haven’t.”

“Subconsciously, you have, clearly,” he huffed, folding his arms.

“I swear to you Doctor, the only reason I’ve tried not to get too, I dunno, touchy-feely with you or whatever, it’s ‘cos I thought that’s what you wanted. You started behaving weirdly first. I was just following your lead.”

“Following my - what?” he repeated, squinting at her.

“Your lead. You’ve been weird, Doctor.”

“So you’ve said, several times. But I don’t understand, because as far as I’m concerned, I’ve been trying to get things back to how they used to be, and you’ve been shrugging off any hint of, of, of - ” He spluttered for a moment, trying to find the right word.

Rose decided to rescue him from having to utter the word ‘affection’ again, or some synonym for it. She knew he’d spontaneously combust before he’d allow himself to get overly sentimental with her. He already looked supremely uncomfortable that he’d aired any of these grievances at all.

“Hold on, let’s just,” she stopped, shaking her head again, “Let’s just backtrack here. Obviously some wires have got crossed somewhere.”

“Obviously,” he agreed emphatically, and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout. She wished he wouldn’t do that, it was completely distracting.

“That...night,” she said vaguely, eyes darting between his as she searched for a reaction. “When we accidentally...and then you…” Panic flitted briefly across his face before he schooled his features again. She persevered, wanting to reassure him. “I got the message, Doctor. And I’m moving on.”

It was a bit of a lie - all right, it was all of a lie, as if she ever could properly move on from someone like him. But she was trying to put it to the back of her mind, so they could go on like he said - normal. Best mates. Just how it always has been, just like he unfortunately reckoned it always should be.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then a look of realisation came upon his face. “Oh. So, before, that wasn’t...that was just because...oh.” His eyebrows drew together. “Oh.”

“Doctor?” Confused again, Rose reached out, running her fingers lightly down his forearm, following through with the impulse to touch him, this time. But he looked at it, swallowed, and took a step back, dislodging her light touch.

“It’s all right,” he said, after clearing his throat. “I understand now. You don’t have to...it’s fine.”

“I’m glad you understand ‘cos I’ve got no idea what you’re going on about. Again. Can we just be honest with each other for this one conversation? Honest and like, explicit, in what we’re saying here, just so it’s clear?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Good. Thanks. So, what, exactly, do you understand now?”

He exhaled a long breath. “The way we were - the way you were with me, before that night. That was because you thought it was going somewhere. Correct?”

She must’ve still looked befuddled because he continued, waving his hand about as though casting his mind back for examples, “The way you would, for instance, lean against me on the sofa in the library in the evenings, while we read. Or, um, the way you’d sometimes play with the hair at the back of my head when you looped your arms around my neck as we hugged.”

He smiled, as though warming to his theme, “Or, for a particularly noteworthy example, the way - if it wasn’t already in mine - the back of your hand would brush against mine as we walked side by side.” His smile slowly faded. “All that was only normal for us, not because they were inherent facets of our friendship, but because you expected them to lead to...a romantic relationship. And now that I’ve put the kibosh on that, and you’ve apparently moved on, then, well. All that’s stopped.” He smiled tightly and reiterated, “I understand.”

Rose didn’t really know where to start. She could feel her cheeks burning again, probably red as a beetroot, but she was more concerned about the stinging in her eyes. She was not, if she could help it, gonna let him see her get upset over this.

She bit into her bottom lip for a moment, gathering her resolve. “Doctor, do I do those things with anyone else?”

He looked surprised by this line of enquiry. “Um.”

“You know I don’t. You’d’ve noticed, if I did; you’ve obviously been paying great attention to every little thing I…” She paused, swallowing hard. “In that way, I s’pose you’re right. Yeah, I...I dunno, I associate those things with something deeper than friendship, I guess. Okay? Because, well, usually they are, all right?” Wary that she was sounding defensive, especially when she caught the Doctor’s pained look, she hastily added, “But it wasn’t a conscious thing. I didn’t even realise I was doing half those things.”

“Ah.”

She shifted uneasily, fiddling with the hem of her hoodie. “You still don’t get it though. I’ve not deliberately stopped doing those things just because you announced we aren’t gonna have sex - I wasn’t doing them to - what? Entice you? Do me a favour! - in the first place.” She reached out to him again. “Those little touches, they just happened as they did because we were...close and I care about you. A lot.”

“Rose…” His arm lifted, and he cupped her elbow, reciprocating her touch; he always did, always completed the circuit, the connection.

She was finally coming to realise what had been going through his mind. “Obviously they meant something to you, too, if you’re this uptight about me not doing them as much anymore. You’re lonely, I get that, and I’m your best mate, yeah?” She smiled at him, and tugged on his jacket sleeve playfully. “Course you want me to act in that way; it’s familiar, and it’s comforting, and it’s a way of you knowing that you’re my best mate too. Right? That’s what it was for you. We can go back to that. I’m sorry you thought I was mad at you or, or punishing you or whatever other nonsense you came up with in that daft Time Lord head of yours. I wasn’t.”

The Doctor looked like he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth with a click. However, just as she was about to speak again, he interrupted, “Then, why…?”

Rose shrugged. “I guess I’d just been subconsciously pulling back from anything I thought might cross the line for you.” She gave him a teasing, exasperated look, “You do make it difficult to know what’s allowed and what isn’t, you know. Especially when you get in one of your moods.”

He chuckled a little, and, with a squeeze to her elbow, he drew her against him, into a hug. She melted into it gladly, and he held her tight, pressing a kiss to her temple. His lips lingered there for a moment too long. Rose inwardly huffed; it was all well and good for him to impose or dissolve ridiculous boundaries around the affection they displayed in their friendship, apparently, but if she tried to distance herself, or conversely, push for more intimacy, then he got his knickers in a twist over it! He was a bit of a hypocrite.

She pulled back. “Okay, just so we’re clear, so that I don’t read into things and make a fool of myself again.” She took in a deep breath, hands on his chest as he looked at her with an open face, attentive and listening. “The kissing thing. That’s off the table, right? That’s what you said. Except when it’s you, apparently.”

He looked a little caught in the headlights, and one of his hands left her waist to tug on his ear. “Well.”

Rose was wary of breaking the nice, friendly moment they’d had, but now she’d thought about it, it was a bit of a joke, him demanding all this from her without explaining himself, too.

“Also, while we’re on the subject - do you do this with all your friends? Hug and kiss and ask them to touch you, and it’s all just friendly affection and nothing else, and no one should ever question it because it’s the level of intimacy you are personally content with, never mind what the other person - ”

He groaned, and the hand still on her waist moved round as he slipped his entire arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. Rose found this surprising, given that she’d started calling him out on his double standards. She half expected him to push her away and leg it out of the console room. Still, she supposed he either reckoned that, with them standing all pressed up against one another, he could sufficiently distract her - which was not gonna work anymore, she vowed to herself, even if it did feel very nice - or avoid her eye while he spoke, directing his words over her shoulder.

Or both. Now she was eye level with it, that bottom lip of his was twelve times more tempting.

She hated him sometimes.

“Well?” she prompted, when he said nothing further, mimicking his interrogation of her earlier. “Do you?”

Her hands were caught too awkwardly between them, so she slid them up and around his neck, and they found better use delving into his hair, just as he seemed to like. He closed his eyes and hummed. God. He was a cat, she realised. All independent and moody when it suited him, but always coming back eventually, to purr under her touch, unable to resist. She gave one strand a sharp tug, and when he opened his eyes again, she looked up at him expectantly.

He sighed. “Of course I don’t. I don’t recall ever acting like this before. And it’s not just - what you said earlier, about liking it because it’s familiar and comforting. That’s true, of course, but it’s not just that. You know it’s never just been about that.”

Rose could feel her pulse speeding up, and hoped he didn’t notice, just how he was probably hoping she hadn’t noticed how his eyes had darkened as they looked at one another.

“You’re infuriating,” she muttered, watching his gaze slip to her lips.

“I know. So are you.”

“Will you ever make your mind up?” she wondered.

“Will you tell me the truth?” he countered.

“I try to. You make it bloody difficult sometimes.”

“Have you really moved on?”

“Is your hand on my bum?” she deflected. It was, he’d just slipped it there, casual as anything, warm and firm and totally copping a feel.

“Yes,” he said simply.

She made a frustrated noise. “Stop it, it’s not fair. You, teasing me and then…”

“You tease me all the time,” he retorted, but his hand dutifully returned to her lower back.

“At least I don’t go hot and cold on you.”

“No. Just hot.” He grinned, and she tugged on his hair again. “Ow!”

“Shut up, I know you’re into it. Look, Doctor. We’re gonna keep going in circles here. That night, you made it clear it would never happen. Now, because I’ve told you I’ve accepted that and am trying to move on - ”

“Ah, trying to.” He smiled.

“You git, this is what I mean, you’re flipping delighted that it’s so hard for me to stop thinking about you, about us. And so you’re only interested when I say I’m not!”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and shook his head. “That isn’t true, and you know it. I didn’t say that night that I didn’t want you - I have never said that.”

“You say on the one hand that you want things to be normal between us, and then you turn a simple hug into something else at the drop of a hat,” she continued, even as her own hand wandered down to tug on his tie.

“You’ve been putting distance between us all week. No wonder I’m overwhelmed now that you’ve finally deigned to hug me again.”

“Be honest. You said you would be, tonight.” She stroked a finger along his jaw. “What’s going on here?”

“What’s going on is, you’re right. It’s impossible for us to go back to normal. After what happened...now that you know. Rose, it’s getting increasingly more difficult to stay away from you.”

“Which is exactly why the pair of us have been wary of touching each other this week. Isn’t it?” she pressed. She let go of him, and he let her escape his embrace, put some air between them to clear their heads. “So don’t pretend it’s just me.”

“Yes, but before...before…”

“What is it, then? What’s changed? You didn’t want me then, or at least, not enough to want to do something about it. So why now?”

“I did want - I just - I - ” He broke off, and sighed. “I don’t know.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t; he just stood there, staring at her, looking a bit helpless.

“I’m gonna stay with you forever,” she stated firmly, watching his face. He didn’t flinch, or look alarmed. Instead, a slow smile crept onto his face. She let out a breath, relieved, and felt emboldened to continue, “So if you keep nearly...if you keep nearly doing something you don’t really wanna do, just because you think it’s what I want, or just so that I’ll be affectionate with you or whatever, then, well, don’t. Don’t, because I’m staying, and I’ll be your best mate, and that’s never gonna change. Whether you want more or not. Okay?”

The Doctor nodded, his hands clenching at his sides. “I’m sorry. I just…get caught up in you, sometimes.” He exhaled. “But, if you can continue to ignore it for the sake of our friendship, then so can I. I’ve just felt a little lost, this week. I’ll work on it. Get back to normal.”

His familiar refrain. Rose sighed. If they both wanted it so damn much that she’d literally just moved to stand the other side of the jumpseat from him, purely because he looked like he was gonna kiss her and every nerve-ending in her body was tingling and begging her to let him, then she really couldn’t understand why they didn’t just bloody well do it. This must have showed in her face, because he spoke again.

“Because what I said before. That night. It’s still true, I still can’t...we mustn’t.”

“Because you’re a Time Lord, and you have Obligations,” she said flatly.

“Yes. Exactly.” He paused. “Wait. Are you being sarcastic?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Right. Well, regardless, it’s the truth.”

She smiled at him sadly, and couldn’t resist asking, “But you do want me.”

The Doctor smiled back. “All the time,” he said, in a whisper; as though afraid the universe might hear.