#anyway after i come i will get highlights and a lash lift with a new tech omfg can’t waittttt the slay that is going to be i need to fuck

[ashmp3]

vacation preparation started -> did laser on my whole body, pedicure (black… Feeling grounded), whitened teeth and i have to shape my brows. The end!

[moved2usagiiboo]

Oh wow this is awesome! I freaking LOVE Tokyo revengers! And you're black too!

Culd u write more with black!reader and Mikey? I her they'd be so cute. More of my fave lazy dangerous man and his oral fixation! F*cking LOVE HIM!

Black!Reader x Mikey

OMG PLS @delightfulmakertidalwave, BBY YOU'RE SO SEGGSY FOR REQUESTING THIS #BLACKGIRLMAGIC

I hope this is what you were looking for!

Can I just say that I bark everytime I see this man? Anyways minors dni or your mom's a hoe 😢🤡

ミ❤️ Mikey + black woman = eternal happiness. He's so happy to have caught someone like you, he worships the ground you walk on. You're his goddess, he can't help but adore you.

ミ❤️ He brags about you all the time, just your smile makes his heart clench. Honestly, he loves everything about you, the way the sun highlights your skin. Your lashes that touch the sky, the golden highlights, your lips that are naturally plump and pouty. Your kinky, puffy hair.

ミ❤️ Oh lord, he loves your hair. He begs to watch you do your hair all the time, he even offers to help. He evens saves up his money to pay for your next hair appointment, only if he gets to pick the next style.

ミ❤️ He seems like the type to love curly pigtails or goddess locs, it does upset him a little that he can't play with your hair, but seeing you all done up like a doll, his heart might explode.

ミ❤️ He also loves your afro! He loves messing with your fro, asking how you got it in that shape, what products you use, how long did it take to style it. Why are you so pretty?

ミ❤️ He forces you to do his hair, Draken is grateful that someone else can deal with Mikey on a daily rather than it all falling on him, needless to say, Draken loves you.

ミ❤️ Wash day always lasts a couple of days, after washing and styling your hair you work on Mikey's. Mikey's hair is always matted for some reason, like always? it's like he doesn't brush his hair at all...

ミ❤️ He also doesn't sit still so he receives pops to his head with the comb.

"Y/n-chann~ that hurt"

"Stop moving ya' damn head then."

ミ❤️ Whines a lot. It's like doing a child's hair. So, you have to get creative.

ミ❤️ You'll give him snacks while he sits on the floor in between your spread legs. He likes lifting your bare legs up, putting them on his shoulders and locking them by the ankles. You part his hair, applying his favorite your leave in conditioner while gently detangling his hair.

ミ❤️ Like said before in the previous Mikey headcannon, he has a huge oral fixation, the entire time he's kissing and sucking on your bare leg. Biting the fleshy meat of your thighs, he loves leaving bite marks. It's a way of claiming you.

"Stop it— tryna do your hair here.."

"Can't help it bunny, you're addicting."

ミ❤️ He makes sure that whenever you're alone you never have any pants on so he can see his marks he made previously.

ミ❤️ After you finish his hair he litters your body and face with kisses thanking you for being such an angel. He mutters against your neck about a reward, knowing damn well it's for his own guilty pleasure.

ミ❤️ He starts leaving marks on your entire body, anywhere and everywhere he can get his mouth on.

ミ❤️ Majority of the time it's on your succulent breasts, he loves them.

ミ❤️ He also loves gripping your ass, please sit on his lap, chest, back, he loves feeling your plush cheeks on top of him.

ミ❤️ Doesn't care if you're plus size, skinny, slim thick, put that ass on him ✊🏿

ミ❤️ BTW, you smell like really good and he loves that.

ミ❤️ Mikey asked why you always smelt so nice, you decided to share your secrets and took him to bath and body works to use a gift card you got for your birthday, since then he got hooked.

ミ❤️ That same day you introduced him to Shea butter, fuck he loves it.

ミ❤️ He always goes out to bath and body works before bath time. He loves colorful bath bombs, he makes sure to get a different bath bomb each time, it's like he's collecting them.

ミ❤️ Oh god, he loves the shower gels and the body lotions. Anything that smells like sweet, he picks.

ミ❤️ He seems like the type to love sugar pancakes or the blueberry scent?

ミ❤️ When you guys take baths together he always has some sort of toy in there. A rubber ducky or something along those lines.

ミ❤️ You're behind him caressing him massaging his scalp, he lays in-between the crack of your breasts while he relaxes, taking about random things that come to mind while you hum a response.

ミ❤️ He'll turn around, shifting the water in the tub, some of the water falling out hitting the ground.

ミ❤️ He'll massage and kiss all over your neck and breast, sucking on them like milk will come out. Don't stop caressing his scalp, it feels so good.

ミ❤️ You'll be in that tub forever if he had it his way, never leaving your breasts out of his mouth for too long. Only to mutter soft praises and "I love you"

ミ❤️ It's his job to cover your body in shea butter and lotion.

ミ❤️ You never agreed to this 🙄

ミ❤️ He loves feeling the jiggle of your skin underneath his hands. Spends too much time moisturizering your ass 😕

ミ❤️ He'll stand behind you kissing your shoulder, he's just a needy baby. Putting the product on his hands, rubbing them together to produce a little heat as well as spreading the protect out before lathering your body.

ミ❤️ He's marveled at the way the lotion feels on your breasts. He pinches and pulls your nipples earning a soft slap on his hands.

ミ❤️ You kicked him out of the bathroom and finished the rest by yourself

ミ❤️ He cried

ミ❤️ You do his skin care before heading to bed. Always cuddling, hes small spoon most of the time. He loves to be babied.

ミ❤️ He sleeping in-between your breasts with his legs wrapped around yours.

ミ❤️ You wake up with his head in your shirt and like 10 new hickeys you didn't have before....

ミ❤️ Now this might be just me but I think Mikey likes having you suck on his fingers or he sucks on yours?

ミ❤️ I just think he gets a rush off of it, it's something so innocent that can be taken sexual, he loves it.

ミ❤️ He also loves when you mark him like he does to you, he'll take off his shirt and let you go to town. Your plush lips, all glossy from the lip gloss that coated the brown lip liner you put on earlier. You'll kiss up his happy trail leaving kiss marks and bites in his waist, sucking his toned body.

ミ❤️ He'll rub your breast or suck on your finger while you work.

ミ❤️ You'll make it up to his pecs(pls that's a weird word) and start sucking on them as well, you bite on his nipple with your canines earning a soft groan from his lips.

ミ❤️ For sure has sensitive nipples, idgaf.

ミ❤️ You'll mark up his neck leaving shiny brown kiss marks all over his body.

ミ❤️ He loves seeing you like this, you practically have heart eyes when you look up at him. Your lip liner and gloss smudged, a line of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth.

ミ❤️ It's absolutely adorable.

ミ❤️ Back to being wholesome 😕

ミ❤️ Mikey makes it his mission to learn about your culture and upbringing, teach him everything.

ミ❤️ Brotha woke ✌️

ミ❤️ He'll beat anybody's ass if they even mutter something about you. Doesn't matter the age, come catch this fade.

ミ❤️ He's so overprotective of you, it's crazy. It's just because he loves you so much, he wants to be the best boyfriend he can be for you.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

winged cupid painted blind // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: I’d really love something based on love story by Taylor Swift. The lines “We keep quite cuz we’re dead if they knew” and “take me somewhere we can be alone” stick out to me //  I was thinking that the reader could be from a family that isn’t well off and her and Anthony meet at a ball somehow. They create a ruse that she’s from a well known family so that the gossips in the ton don’t attack her because Anthony has fallen in love with a “commoner.” All the Bridgertons are in on the ruse and at the end of the story Anthony proposes - @whovianwholikesgirls

A/N: Why is it that every Bridgerton fic I write, I end up writing thousands and thousands of words? This is long and I am sorry for that! As always, I hope I have done your request justice and that I hope you like!

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: she/her pronouns, female reader, class divides, pining, mutual pining, lots of fluff, dancing, kissing, happy ending, Anthony in love.

Word count: 7.7k

Madame Delacroix’s took up the central property on the most prosperous street coming just off of Grosvenor Square. The most popular modiste in London, many of society’s richest families flocked to her door in order to claim their own dress made by the talented seamstress.

Anthony sighs as he climbs down from the carriage. His mother must be in a particular benevolent mood to send him to pick up her newest dress from the modiste. Anthony would much rather be spending his day at his club, but he finds himself ringing the modiste’s bell for service.

“Monsieur Bridgerton!” Madame Delacroix smiles, delighted at the sight of the Viscount. “How can I help you?” She asks, her smile turning flirtatious.

Anthony responds with his own flirtatious smile. “I’m here to pick up a dress for my mother.”

“Of course, of course,” Madame Delacroix sings, “I have it over here. I finished it last night. It is divine!”

“My mother will surely thank you,” Anthony states earnestly, his gaze dancing around the room filled to the brim with fabrics and ribbons, models and hoops.

“No need,” Madame Delacroix, “The Bridgertons are my best customers.”

Anthony takes the offered box, marvelling at the lightness of its weight. For all the skirts, for all the numerous pieces of fabric that go into making a dress, Anthony will always remain shocked at the featherlight weight of it.

“Will Lady Bridgerton be wearing this to the Hastings’ ball tonight?” The modiste asks, her tone light as she tries her best to keep the burning curiosity out of her voice.

“Most likely,” Anthony smiles, tipping his head in goodbye.

The modiste calls out her goodbyes as Anthony walks out the door. He doesn’t pay much attention to where he is going; only knowing that he needs to turn left in order to reach his carriage. The very thought has him rushing, safe in the knowledge that the quicker he got his done, the quicker he would be at his club.

It’s that self-indulgent thought that had Anthony distracted enough to walk into something hard.

“Oh!” A feminine voice gasps as Anthony catches her elbow whilst keeping a tight hold on the dress box.

“My apologies,” Anthony offers, steadying the unknown woman.

“You’re forgiven,” She murmurs dryly, turning her attention back to the seamstresses window.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for your concern, Lord Bridgerton.”

“My pleasure, Miss…”

“(Y/L/N).”

“My pleasure, Miss (Y/L/N),” Anthony repeats, adjusting the dress box in his hands. He goes to say something else but notices her slyly counting the money in her purse, watching her frown when she realises she cannot afford the prices set by Madame Delacroix.

“Have a nice day, Lord Bridgerton,” Miss (Y/L/N) remarks, stepping away from the Viscount to begin her walk home. She didn’t need a Viscount to be witness to her money troubles; she had thought she had enough, but the prices must have been increased since the last time she had wandered past the window. It would be another two weeks of saving before she could afford a new set of ribbons; it wasn’t worth it at this point, she sighed to herself.

“You too!” Anthony shouts to her retreating figure, feeling upset on her behalf that she could not afford the ribbons she was so dazedly admiring. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling, Anthony climbs into the carriage, thinking of the young woman all the way home.

-----

“Jayne!” (Y/N) laughs, “Slow down! I’m going to lose a shoe.”

“Alright, Cinderella,” Jayne snickers, slowing her pace as she climbs the winding staircase to the home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.

“Have you ever seen such a home?” (Y/N) gasps; eyes widening as she takes in the grand structure. The brickwork is immaculate; many red bricks painted black to give the impression of a crosshatch pattern spreading across the building. This is only highlighted by the many windows; all seemingly lit by a countless number of candles and sconces.

“(Y/N)!” Jayne shouts, “Stop admiring the building! We have a dance to get to.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” (Y/N) laughs, hurrying after her friend who has already handed over their invitation.

Jayne grips (Y/N)’s hand tightly as they enter the ballroom together. The event is in full swing; the dancefloor already full with couples dancing a quadrille.

“Would you dance with me?” The handsome brunette asks of Jayne, staring at her hopefully. Jayne casts her gaze to (Y/N), not wanting to leave her friend, but wanting very much to dance with the handsome man.

(Y/N) nudges Jayne forward, answering for her. “She would be delighted.”

Jayne sends her a thankful smile as she joins more and more couples on the dancefloor.

The drinks table isn’t busy at all as (Y/N) wanders over. She makes sure to keep an eye on Jayne, watching her dance with what looks to be a Rokesby. (Y/N) shakes her head fondly at her friend; ten minutes into a ball and she’s already caught the attention of a member of one of the richest families in England.

Turning her attention away from her friend, (Y/N) reaches for a glass of lemonade when her hand brushes with a man clearly wanting the same glass. (Y/N) pulls her hand away, not wanting to cause any trouble at a ball she wasn’t even invited to.

“My apologies,” She murmurs, grabbing another glass from the many.

“You’re forgiven,” A voice drawls. (Y/N) glances upwards through her lashes to find Anthony Bridgerton watching her with a confused expression.

“Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) greets, curtseying lightly at the sight of her superior.

Anthony nods. He remains silent as he stands next to her; it’s not an awkward silence, rather, one where (Y/N) can practically hear the cogs and gears winding in Anthony’s mind, trying to figure out where he knows her from. If he knows her at all.

“I met you this morning,” Anthony recalls suddenly, snapping his fingers together when he remembers why he recognises the woman standing next to him.

“You almost knocked me over,” She states wryly, lifting her glass to her lips to take a tentative sip of the lukewarm lemonade.

“I believe I apologised for that, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“Call me (Y/N). And I forgave you,” She states simply, “But It doesn’t mean I’m going to let you forget it, however.”

“I’d be disappointed in you, if you did.”

(Y/N) laughs. The very sound music to Anthony’s ears and he briefly wonders whether he could have the sound imprinted on his brain; to hear her laughter for an eternity.

“What are you doing here?” Anthony asks, taking a pull of his lemonade before wrinkling his nose. Too sweet, not sour enough. “Are you here with your parents?”

“I wasn’t technically invited,” She confesses to the Viscount in a conspiratorial whisper. Anthony’s eyes widen when her words land, “What?”

“I came to chaperone my friend, Jayne. You may know her, she’s Lord Dorchester’s daughter.”

Anthony nods; he knew the man well, drank with him a few times at his club – dreadfully dull with a fascination for military history. Much like many of the men of his father’s generation.

“Anyway,” (Y/N) continues, “Jayne wanted to go, but needed a chaperone as her mother has taken ill – nothing serious thankfully. I was the next best option so here I am.”

“Here you are,” Anthony parrots, enunciating every syllable as his eyes pour over her figure. “If you weren’t invited, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a governess for Lord and Lady Saville,” She answers proudly; a happy smile on her face as she thinks of her students.

“I hated my governess,” Anthony confesses with a laugh. “I don’t care much for Latin which she knew so she would make me do double the work.”

(Y/N) snorts. “Latin is a very useful language; it’s a good skill to have.”

“I know that now,” Anthony gripes, “I just didn’t know that at ten years old.”

Silence descends between them. Again, not uncomfortable, but a natural stopping point in their conversation. After all, titled gentleman such as the man stood beside her didn’t speak to her occupation outside of a brief conversation about their child’s progress in their education.

(Y/N) places her finished glass of lemonade back on the table before smoothing out the deep blue skirts of her borrowed dress. She clears her throat, ready to make her excuses and check on Jayne when Anthony speaks first.

“Would you care to dance?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“I’m a governess, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Call me Anthony, please.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re supposed to dance with someone of your own class, Anthony.”

“I don’t want to dance with them. I want to dance with you.”

His argument is straight to the point; no beating around the bush that (Y/N) finds it hard to find fault with it. Instead, she sighs, “One dance.”

“One dance,” Anthony promises, holding out his hand for her to grasp.

She didn’t expect to find herself the centre of the Viscount’s attention, but she cannot bring herself to mind much. Not as he holds out a hand for her to take; not as he leads to her to the dancefloor and not as he settles a palm against her lower back. The feel of his hand feeling so right that she loses the power of speech.

The music begins and (Y/N) travels to a new place entirely. The room melts away; the couples, the families. They all disappear. The only two people in the room are her and Anthony; his blue eyes fixed on her as they start to circle the room in waltz. There’s no need for conversation; all words passed by looks alone.

When the music dies and the room fades back into view, (Y/N) only wonders whether she would feel like this again, whether they would be anyone to make her feel like this again. As Anthony bows and kisses her hand, (Y/N) has her answer.

----------

He doesn’t stop thinking about her. She left soon after they finished dancing; her friend finding her and asking whether she was ready to leave. Anthony wanted to argue; wanted to reach for (Y/N) and pull her back to his embrace where they could dance the night away.

Anthony returned home and went straight to his room. He undressed mechanically; still thinking of her as he slipped between his sheets and tried to fall asleep only to find that sleep was a fickle friend that would not be granting him a visit tonight.

He remains awake; thinking of every aspect of her. He didn’t think he would see her again after the modiste; it was a shock to find her at the ball, but he took the opportunity with both hands to find that he had quickly become infatuated with her.

Could this be called love? Anthony rolls over in bed; tangling himself up in the sheets as he runs a hand up and down his bare chest, thinking the question over and over.

He felt as if he had hit by the arrow of Cupid; as if he had handed himself over voluntarily to be pricked with one of the god’s arrows. He’s never felt like this; no woman had ever kept him awake at night in such a manner.

Groaning, Anthony reaches for the pillow on the other side of the bed, hugging it to his chest. All the while, he dreams it was her body he was pressing close to.

The day after the Ball, Anthony strides from his study to his mother’s drawing room. There, he sits next to his beloved mother, and asks her to gather his siblings for a family meeting.

They arrive one by one. The youngest arriving first; a simple call from the bottom of the stairs has Gregory and Hyacinth rushing to the drawing room, each one adamant that they didn’t do it, but rather their sibling. Anthony shakes his head in exasperation, not wanting to know what they were referring to and instead, asks them to take a seat on the pale blue couch in front of the window.

Over the course of an hour, Anthony’s family arrive. Each one just as curious as the last, each one just as questioning as the last. “Why have you gathered us here, Anthony?” Daphne sighs, her hand resting on Simon’s knee.

“I’ve met someone,” Anthony announces. He frowns at the shocked gasps from Daphne and Eloise; was he really so incapable of finding himself a wife? He ignores the jibes from them both, turning to face his dear mother.

Violet Bridgerton sits in her favourite chair; the one next to it empty as it has been for the last decade. Edmund Bridgerton died so suddenly, and their love was so strong, Anthony knew that there was no recovery from it. “Do we know her?” She asks; her face showing the happiness she feels for her eldest son.

“No,” Anthony sighs, settling down next to his youngest sister, Hyacinth. She offers him a sweet smile as he sits; Anthony cannot help but return the smile and ruffle her hair. When the moment is over, Anthony focuses his attention back onto his family who he finds is watching him intently. “She’s a governess,” He admits, straightening in his seat.

“A respectable profession,” Eloise states with a smile. Anthony feels a rush of affection for his sister; he had always been wary for her outspokenness, but right now, he could thank her heartily.

“What’s the problem, Anthony?” Eloise continues, crossing her ankles, leaning forward in interest.

“I think she may have feelings for me as well, but she’s hesitant to act on them because of our differences.”

“Differences?” Hyacinth questions curiously; unaware of such class differences at such a young age.

“(Y/N) is a governess. I am a Viscount,” Anthony explains, “It would be the subject of gossip for years to come should anything happen between us.”

“So we come up with another story,” Francesca suggests, shrugging her shoulders as if her suggestion was always the answer.

“Another story?” Daphne wonders, eyes glancing between her husband and her family.

“We create a ruse,” Francesca explains to her elder sister. “A story for (Y/N) and Anthony to follow when out in public.”

“Do you think she would go along with this?” Benedict asks; his tone wary as he thinks of the possible implications this could have for his family.

Anthony remains silent, tapping a finger against his cheek as he thinks of whether (Y/N) would follow such a ruse. “Why don’t we ask her? I can send a summons.”

Violet, who had been watching the whole exchange in silence, nods. “Send her a message asking her to come as quick as she can. Tell her it isn’t an emergency, but that you would like to talk to her.”

Anthony nods; rushing from the drawing room to his study to pen such a message. After that, he calls on one of the footmen, handing them the letter and the strict duty of delivering this to (Y/N) personally. The footman nods; his face serious as he takes the letter from his employer’s hand, all but sprinting out of the door.

Anthony returns to the drawing room; taking his seat next to Hyacinth.

“Did you send the missive?” Violet asks. Anthony nods; doing his best to keep his heart from beating right out of his chest. “I sent it with one of the footmen,” He answers, “It shouldn’t be long now.”

His family all nod, breaking off into separate conversations whilst Anthony remains stoic and silent. His leg bounces repeatedly; the only outward sign of his anxiety. Internally, he nerves were fraught. He couldn’t help but wonder whether this was all too much; he knew from their first meeting that Anthony would do anything for her, but if (Y/N) didn’t return such feelings then it was all for nothing.

Worries and thoughts continue to plague him as Anthony catches sight of Daphne leaning into Simon. It’s a small movement, almost imperceptible, but Anthony cannot miss the devoted smile that crosses Simon’s face when he feels his wife press against him.

Longing breaks within Anthony’s chest, spreading through his body, leaving behind an ache that he doesn’t know how to heal.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” introduces the Butler, breaking Anthony’s longing in half.

He stands all too fast, appearing all too eager. Anthony shoots a glare in his brother’s direction when he hears their sniggering.

(Y/N) rushes into the room; her eyes filled with panic when she finds herself in front of the whole Bridgerton clan. “Anthony?” She whispers; her eyes finally meeting his from across the room.

“(Y/N),” He breathes, “Thank you for coming.”

“You told me not to worry, but you sounded so urgent.”

“We wanted to talk to you,” He explains, gesturing to his whole family. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

(Y/N) sits; her mind running a thousand miles a minute as she finds herself being watched by every Bridgerton/Basset in the room. The room is silent; too silent – no-one dares broach the subject first. They don’t want to anger Anthony or ruin his chances with (Y/N).

“Whatever is the matter?” (Y/N) finally asks, breaking the silence.

“We’ve come to understand that you and Anthony have feelings for each other,” Violet states quite plainly.

(Y/N) fidgets, somewhat uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “I guess you could say that,” She offers, smiling smally at the aforementioned man.

“We also know that you’re worried about the differences between Anthony and yourself,” Violet continues to which Eloise huffs, crossing her arms in anger at the state of the class differences within England.

“It’s not so much worried,” (Y/N) explains, “It’s more resigned to the fact.”

Violet nods, understanding where the young governess is coming from. “Francesca,” Violet starts, nodding to the brunette sitting by one of Anthony’s brothers, “Has come up with an idea that we would like to run by you.”

“Oh?”

“It would mean that you and Anthony would be able to begin a courtship.”

(Y/N) feels herself flush; her face heating with how open the Bridgerton family were about their emotions. Their family unit so healthy and happy that everyone felt at ease to talk about whatever was on their minds.

“What did you have in mind?” (Y/N) asks, turning to face Francesca who responds with a large smile.

“We’re going to create a backstory for you. Not something terribly complicated, but something that you and Anthony can follow whilst out in public.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) whispers hesitantly, “What’s the backstory you’ve created?”

Francesca begins to look sheepish. “I haven’t thought of that part yet… I didn’t think Anthony would go for the first part.”

(Y/N) laughs; a light and airy sound that has Anthony straightening in his seat, smiling automatically. “Why don’t we come up with it together?”

“So you’re willing to go along with it?” Anthony asks; his voice unwaveringly hopeful as he refuses to look at anyone but (Y/N).

Something in his face has her nodding. “For as long as you’ll have me,” She answers earnestly, almost breathless when Anthony smiles widely in return.

“This is what I’ve thought of so far,” Colin announces, breaking the moment between Anthony and (Y/N).

The family turn to Colin to find him sat forward on his seat, an eager look across his face as he begins to lay out his plans. Anthony smiles and nods; happy with every word leaving his brother’s mouth.

(Y/N) cannot help but feel an ounce of doubt; not so much at the plan, but for longevity of it. How long would it be before Anthony realised she was not worth it? How long would it before the class difference between them became too much? She dreaded the day but knew it would be upon her before she realised.

----------

The annual picnic in Hyde Park drew in every affable family in London. After all, it was another excuse for mother’s to parade their daughters to the many eligible gentleman. For the gentlemen, it was a free lunch with whichever gazebo they chose to throw themselves upon.

The Bridgertons had been attending this picnic for many years; their station in society meaning that they were personally invited by the monarch. Violet took pride in her set up, making sure her cook’s famous biscuits were on display and that there was plenty of tea to go around. She also ensured that her family had the perfect view of the Serpentine; not too close for her children to fall in, but not too far for it to be out of sight. It was not a sorry affair.

(Y/N) had joined the family happily; talking briefly with Colin and Eloise before Hyacinth monopolised her attention. (Y/N) didn’t mind; she had taught many young girls the same age as Hyacinth and found them all a delight to educate. Hyacinth would be no different.

It wasn’t long, however, before Anthony joined her side. His hand settled comfortably on the small of her back, liking the way that she stepped closer to him, as if wanting to be in his presence all the time.  

“Did you have fun the other night?” Anthony questions, thinking back to Daphne’s ball when (Y/N) had smiled at him as he lead her across the dancefloor.

(Y/N) smiles. “I did. I had a lot of fun.”

“How are you feeling about our ruse?” Anthony queries, catching sight of Lady Featherington marching across the many blankets in the direction of the Bridgerton patch.

“Confident,” (Y/N) answers, “Why do you ask?”

Anthony smiles; shifting his position slightly so he can hear every word of the conversation about to happen. He ducks his head, his mouth close to her ear as he answers, “Because it’s about to be put to the test.”

“Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Featherington calls; her gaudy green gown shimmering in the sunlight as she teeters her way to the matriarch of the fine family.

“Lady Featherington,” Violet greets, her voice as polite as ever. “How are you?”

Lady Featherington smiles at Violet; her gaze glancing around the colourful blankets and gazebo set out for the Bridgerton family to remain comfortable as the picnic progresses. Lady Featherington smiles when her eyes find the figure she was looking for. (Y/N) stands to the side, wrapped up in a conversation with Anthony that certainly looks to be a private one.

Lady Featherington nods towards (Y/N); the fascinator attached to her threatening to slip into her eyes. “You have a new addition to your family, Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Featherington states; no infliction of a question but one inferred all the same.

“(Y/N) is a distant friend of the family,” Violet answers breezily, “She hails from a wealthy family just outside of Leeds.”

“Leeds?”

Violet nods. “Yes, Leeds. It’s just over 20 miles outside of York, perhaps you’ve been?”

Lady Featherington smiles tightly at Violet. She smooths down the green panels of her dress. “A handful of times, Lady Bridgerton. After all, my side of the family hails from Manchester. The two aren’t so far removed.”

“Of course,” Violet appeases, “How does your family fare? I’d heard your mother was ill.”

Lady Featherington continues to smile graciously at the Dowager Viscount. Her eyes are brimming with warning and curiosity, but her smile is forced. “Mother is doing much better, she travelled to the coast. The latest journals are saying sea air helps with fragile conditions.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Lady Featherington nods her thanks to Violet before making her excuses. Violet’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as she watches the notorious gossip walk away from her gazebo. Lady Featherington’s shoulders are tight with displeasure as she marches back to her own plot.

Violet returns to the stitching in her lap after a brief glance towards her youngest children. Gregory and Hyacinth occupied with Benedict and Colin as the older of the set teach their younger siblings games from their youth. Violet smiles at her children; content to return to the pattern at hand, the Dutch Tulips would not stitch themselves.

“What was Lady Featherington talking to you about?” Anthony asks. His face the very picture of innocence as he breaks his mother’s concentration and grabs two biscuits – one for him, the other he hands to (Y/N).

“She was fishing for information on our dear (Y/N),” Violet comments, observing her stitching to ensure it remains straight. “She didn’t find out a thing other than what we discussed.”

(Y/N) lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton.”

Violet waves away her gratitude with a dismissive hand. “You’re making my son happy; I’ll protect that and you with all that I have.”

(Y/N) flounders for a moment at the quick acceptance by Violet. She smiles at the matriarch; whispering her thanks to Violet, ducking her head as she tries to come to terms with rush of emotions coursing through her body.

Anthony returns his attention to the conversation; his mind no longer focused on way to distract Lady Featherington. He flashes a smile in (Y/N)’s direction; his heart racing when she sends her own smile back.

“(Y/N) and I are going to promenade, mother. You’ll be fine without us?”

Violet snorts. “Yes, dear. I have my seven other children to keep me company.”

Anthony rolls his eyes fondly at his mother. He presses a sweet kiss to her cheek before offering (Y/N) his arm.

They amble along the path; all the while aware of the maid sent by Violet shortly after they departed. Violet trusts (Y/N) implicitly, but she knows the reputation of her eldest son. The poor opera singer being prime evidence of his abilities to break hearts as quickly as he mends them.

“You look beautiful, by the way. In case I haven’t told you,” Anthony flirts, a handsome smile spreading across his face.

“You haven’t, but I’ll take the compliment now.”

Anthony laughs, throwing his head back in delight as they both pause their walk. “You are though,” Anthony murmurs, reaching out to brush a finger down (Y/N)’s cheek, “You’re beautiful.”

(Y/N) averts her gaze; her cheeks flushing from the unexpected compliment. Anthony glances on either side of them, catching sight of the maid only a few feet away, doing her best to nonchalantly follow them. Anthony turns his attention back to the woman in front of him, desperate for a moment alone with her. A wicked grin spreads across his face, “Follow me.”

“What?”

“Follow me,” Anthony repeats, stepping off the path and onto the grass. He gestures to a faint path; one less travelled. “Do you trust me?”

(Y/N) answers by taking his outstretched hand, letting herself be led down the lesser known path.

Their pace slows when they are certain they have lost their chaperone. (Y/N) feels a twinge of guilt as she thinks of the poor maid who was only doing what she was asked by her employer, but then she catches sight of the unbridled glee on Anthony’s face and her guilt is quickly replaced by anticipation.

“Where are we going?” She asks; her voice jostling slightly as she tries to watch Anthony and not trip over any loose twigs or stones.

“Nowhere in particular,” Anthony confesses, “I just wanted you to myself for a little bit.”

His pace slows; they’re a good distance away from the picnic party, they wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Anthony wonders as he comes to a stop. His hands settle on her waist and she has do all that she can to focus on the conversation and not the fact that she can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of her dress.  

“You can tell me anything.”

“I like spending time with you. You make me…” Anthony trails off as he thinks of the word, “Happy. Yes, you make me happy.”

“You make me happy too.”

“If you want me to stop,” Anthony whispers, bending to press a line of kisses from her cheek to the corner of her mouth, “You need to tell me now.”

“Don’t stop,” She whispers, fisting her hands in the lapels of his jacket, tugging him forward.

Anthony kissed her carefully, as if afraid he would ruin her from the very moment their lips touched. What he didn’t realise, however, was that he had ruined her from the instant they met. He might not have realised it, but she knew. She knew that from that one conversation, that one touch to her elbow, she would be ruined for other men.

His mouth is gentle, hesitant. By the way he groans low in his throat, Anthony does not expect (Y/N) to react the way she does. Gasping against his mouth, pressing herself against him as her lips open under his. The kiss becomes hurried; oxygen becoming a distant thought of the past as (Y/N) tastes the lemon biscuits Anthony had stolen from his mother’s table.

Breaking the kiss, the couple each suck in ragged breaths. Shy smiles break out across either of their faces, not having expected such a thing to happen to between them. A short laugh leaves Anthony’s lips as he keeps (Y/N) wrapped up in his embrace. Neither of them feel the need to say a word; happy to let the time pass between them in complete silence.

“We should probably get back,” (Y/N) eventually murmurs against Anthony’s cheek, the slight stubble scratching her skin.

Anthony releases a choked sound. “I don’t want to,” He confesses, “I want to stay here with you.”

(Y/N) pulls back, brushing a gloved hand against Anthony’s cheek. He leans into the touch; finding himself enraptured by the woman in front of him. “I want to stay with you too,” She whispers, “But your family will be looking for us.”

Anthony sighs, breaking the embrace entirely. He holds her hand; tangling their fingers together. If he could, he wouldn’t let go of her at all. He would keep her with him at all times; he likes to be in her presence, doesn’t want to be without it. However, society and duty calls, and he must return. However, he would be damned if he was to let go of her hand before then.

“Alright,” He concedes, beginning the walk back to the picnic.

The walk is quiet, but comfortable. Their hands remained tangled even as they arrive back to the Bridgertons. His brother’s throw Anthony a knowing glance which Anthony ignores. He knows his mother will have a strict word with him later, but he has more pressing matters on his mind – his future and the woman now sitting with his youngest siblings.

He’s found his forever; he just needs to keep it.

-----

“Miss (Y/L/N),” the Butler begins, interrupting the governess as she marks her student’s latest set of handwriting, “A Viscount Bridgerton to see you?”

“Oh!” She gasps, standing from her seat far too quickly. The inkpot on her desk spills, sapphire blue ink spreading across the multitude of papers thrown about her desk. As she watches the puddle grow, she begins to feel a deep sense of dread spread through her being.

“Shall I show him in?” The Butler asks, also watching the ink stain spread.

“Have you already made Lord and Lady Saville aware of his presence?”

“Yes, miss. They’re the ones who told me to fetch him to you.”

“Then yes, show him in please,” (Y/N) answers, staring forlornly at the ruined paper and wasted ink. The Butler makes a sympathetic noise before opening the door further for Anthony to enter.

“Darling,” Anthony greets. He goes to speak further but spies the growing blue stain. “What happened here?”

“I stood up too quickly,” (Y/N) complains. “It’s gone everywhere, and I can’t afford another bottle right now.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll get you a bottle.”

(Y/N) fixes the man with an unimpressed look. “No you won’t. I don’t want you buying things for me.”

“It won’t be bought. I have a stock of ink back at Bridgerton House due to the amount of correspondence I have. You can have a couple of pots; I will not miss it.”

“Oh… well, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Anthony smiles. “Now that’s sorted, I came here to ask you a question.”

“You have?”

“I have. Would you attend the Shakespearean ball? With me?” His voice has a note of vulnerability in it as he voices his question.

“What?” She asks, “As in arrive with you, on your arm?”

“Yes,” Anthony states slowly, “You would come with me and my family.”

She begins to pace the room; her hands wringing together as she tries to calm the pounding of her heart and mind. “Are you sure this is the path you want to go down?” She asks Anthony; her voice begging for a truthful answer.

“What do you mean?”

“This is getting very serious very fast, Anthony. This plan isn’t going to work forever; the ton will find out that I’m a governess and the ruse will be over. This could ruin your entire family, Anthony.”

“Hey,” Anthony hushes, interrupting her pacing. He reaches for her hand with one hand whilst the other cups her cheek. She automatically leans into the touch, sending a thrill through Anthony’s aching soul. “Nothing’s going to happen,” He reassures with a gentle tone, “Should anything happen, we can do damage control.”

“I don’t want to be the ruin of your family, Anthony,” (Y/N) whispers, her eyes lined with unshed tears. She could never forgive herself if the Bridgertons were socially injured by her lack of money relating to her lack of status. (Y/N) could not help the hand of cards she was dealt at birth, but society dictates her station, and hers was so far below Anthony’s it was any wonder that he noticed her in the first place. It was a dream to be accepted by his family; she didn’t want to be the cause of their ruination.

“You aren’t going to be the ruin of my family,” Anthony assures, brushing under her eyes with his thumbs to wipe away the tears that have fallen. “You’re going to be the making of it. I want you in my life, (Y/N). I want to see where this goes.”

“You do?”

“I do. I haven’t felt like this for a long time, I want to see where this feeling takes me.”

“Okay,” She concedes, doing her best to stop the tears falling, “I’ll go to the ball with you.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

The smile that spreads across Anthony’s face makes it all worth it. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then another to her nose, to her cheek before finally kissing her in earnest. She hums against his mouth; getting lost in the feel of him.

“It’ll be worth it,” Anthony whispers. “All of this is worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” (Y/N) states quietly, pulling him back in for another kiss.

----

Lady Danbury was one of two women in London that could throw a memorable ball. The other being Violet Bridgerton. For her theme this year, Lady Danbury had chosen the works of the Elizabethan bard, William Shakespeare. For what could be more romantic than dressing as characters immortalised in his plays and sonnets?

Anthony would not tell (Y/N) one whisper of his costume; kept it a secret from her despite her barrage of questions. As revenge, she kept quiet about her costume, refusing to tell the man the colour of her dress.

The two walk into the ballroom with (Y/N)’s hand resting on Anthony’s forearm; her nerves rattle as she walks further into the room. She knew she had no reason to be nervous; Anthony and his family would protect her from whatever form of gossip falls her way, but she could not help the turning of her stomach as she walked passed many disappointed mothers who had hoped Anthony would pay their daughters the slightest bit of attention.

The music is loud; the laughter lightening the atmosphere and the dancers in full swing as (Y/N) begins to feel comfortable. Having taught many a child Shakespeare, (Y/N) spent a lot of time trying to decipher the characters in attendance tonight. She had already seen three Violas, four Benedicks, and six Olivias.  

“I have to go talk to someone,” Anthony says apologetically, interrupting her guessing game, “I won’t be long. Will you be okay without me?”

(Y/N) nods. “Go. I’m sure I’ll find someone to talk to.”

Anthony presses a lingering kiss to her cheek, whispering as he does so, “A marvel amongst women.”

“You’re nothing but a flirt,” She laughs, batting the love of her life away. “Go talk business.”

“As you wish,” Anthony laughs, mock-bowing before leaving (Y/N) to wander the ball alone. Moments pass before she finds someone she recognises. “Colin,” She greets happily, “Who have you come as?”

“Romeo Montague,” Colin answers, stretching his arms wide to show off his rather fetching garb.

“How wonderful,” She laughs, watching the Bridgerton strike a pose in his costume.

“Who knows,” Colin teases, “Maybe tonight I’ll find my Juliet.”

(Y/N) laughs once more, batting the man away when he wiggles his eyebrows at her in a suggestive manner. “Off with you,” She snorts, “I’m sure there are plenty of ladies for you to dance with.”

Colin departs with a bow of his head. (Y/N) rolls her eyes at the antics of the younger man; Colin knew full well of the line of ladies waiting for his signature of their dance cards, but something warms in (Y/N)’s chest when she watches Colin walk straight to Penelope Featherington.

“They’d make a fine pair if he would pull his head out,” A voice full of humour sounds from behind her.

(Y/N) startles. She turns to find Anthony watching her; his lips curled in a manner that suggested he was holding back the laughter he so desperately wanted to let out.

“You made me jump,” She hisses, batting his outstretched hand away.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Anthony coos, pulling (Y/N) into his embrace by pulling on one of the many skirts about her waist. (Y/N) flushes at the term of endearment, but also at the many pairs of eyes now watching the young couple.

“You’re forgiven,” She sighs. “Who have you dressed as?” She asks, changing the subject.

“Ferdinand,” Anthony answers, “From The Tempest.”

“How odd,” (Y/N) muses, “I’ve dressed as Miranda from The Tempest.”

“‘Admired Miranda!/ Indeed the top of admiration, worth/ What’s dearest to the world!’”

“Only you could quote Shakespeare from the heart,” (Y/N) states wryly.

Anthony preens, puffing out his chest slightly. “All the Bridgertons can. We would do dramatizations of the plays.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) laughs, picturing Anthony as a young boy, dressed in breeches with a make-do ruff around his neck. The very image brings a fond smile to her face.

“What are you smiling about?” Anthony questions, wanting to be privy to the thoughts running through her mind.

“You,” She flirts, hooking her arm through Anthony’s as they start to take a turn about the room.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Anthony states pompously though his heart races at her words.

Her laughter chimes as Anthony steers (Y/N) around the room, pausing only to grab two glasses of lemonade from the drinks table. She sips at it delicately, not risking a spill of a single drop on her outfit.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Anthony murmurs into her ear. “Truly. I would have been lost without you.”

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” (Y/N) teases, enjoying the blush that begins to paint Anthony’s cheeks. She briefly touches a gloved hand to his cheek, smiling fondly at the brunette. “I’m glad I came too.”

Anthony clears his throat; clearing his throat of the emotion clogging it up. He takes her drink from her, placing it on a nearby table. As ever the gentleman he was raised to be, Anthony bows towards the women he vows is the love of his life and offers his hand. “Would you care to dance?”

“Always,” She answers with a breathtaking smile, taking his hand to be led onto the dancefloor for the start of the new song. Couples on the floor take up the position of the quadrille as upbeat music sounds through the hall.  

It’s hard not to smile as Anthony takes her hand to begin the first steps of the lead couple. The first dance figure is performed before copied by the other couples in their square.

Anthony keeps a tight hold on her as he begins the next set of dance figures; spinning (Y/N) out before drawing her back in. Laughter falls from her mouth, setting his heart alight with the love he feels for her.

She catches the eye of Lady Featherington through one of many of Anthony’s spins. The Lady smiles knowingly, raising her glass to the young woman spinning in the arms of the Viscount.

(Y/N)’s breath freezes in her chest; she makes a choked sound and her steps falter. Luckily, no-one but Anthony seems to notice, but he recovers his hold on (Y/N) fairly quickly. It’s the end of the song; couples slowing on the floor, the audience beginning to clap their approvals.

“Darling?” Anthony calls quietly, breaking her out of her reverie. His hand remains in her hold; refusing to let him take even a step without her.

“Take me somewhere we can be alone,” She pleads, suddenly overcome by the sheer amount of people milling about the hall.

Anthony doesn’t need to be told twice, leading (Y/N) away from the dancefloor with a guiding hand on the small of her back. Anthony catches Benedict’s eye as he leaves the hall; his brother offers him a single nod to which Anthony relaxes – Benedict would make sure no-one would follow or interrupt, there was something important Anthony had to do.

The night air is cold against her heated skin as she inhales hurried breaths. The stone of the railing is cool under her fingers as she grips the stone tight; needing something to tether her to this place. It feels like a dream; a total dream that she would find herself costumed as a character from a Shakespeare play brushing elbows with some of the most powerful people in the country.

At this time of night, the gardens are dark, but she can still make out their heavenly fragrance perfuming the air, providing the perfect backdrop for this night.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asks, removing his jacket and settling it over her shoulders.

(Y/N) pulls his jacket tighter around her; inhaling the comforting scent of musk and sweet orange washing over her. “I’m fine now, it got to be a bit too much in there.”

“That’s an understatement,” Anthony murmurs, “I saw Lady Featherington.”

(Y/N) cringes internally. Her face is a mask of polite interest as she murmurs, “Oh? You saw that did you?”

“She only acts as if she knows everything, darling,” Anthony reassures, settling his hands on (Y/N)’s waist, desperate to be touching her.

“I know,” She murmurs, but his words do nothing to settle the panic tying her chest into knots.

“We’re fine,” Anthony promises; hands rubbing up and down the sides of her bodice. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” She repeats, sighing heavily, leaning back into his embrace. His chest is strong against her back, but she doesn’t get long to admire his strength. He turns her in his arms, peering down at the expression on her face.

“You’re who I love. I couldn’t give a damn what the rest of London society thinks.”

“I love you as well,” She answers, a small smile on her face, letting his words wash away any and all of her worries. “You do have a way with words.”

“Flatterer,” He teases, dipping his head to kiss her.

(Y/N) gasps at the first press of Anthony’s lips against hers. She had kissed him before; a hurried meeting of mouths before their chaperone caught up to them. This kiss differed from that; languid, unhurried. Anthony took his time to memorise the feel of her lips against his; the small whimpers sounding at the back of her throat.

Each brush of his lips against hers spoke of what he found it hard to put into words. He had never been a wordsmith; could never write poetry or recite the romances of the past, but with every butterfly kiss placed on her lips in time to the shuddering of her heartbeat could Anthony translate the sheer scale of what he feels for her.

She reaches up to cup the back of his neck, fingers carding through the dark brown locks. Anthony’s grip on her waist remains firm as he presses her further into the railing. The gentleness of Anthony’s kiss soon turns to a burning passion as his hands splay across the small of (Y/N)’s back, pressing her to him.

As Anthony’s kisses begin to travel the expanse of her jawline, (Y/N) is suddenly grateful for the railing behind her. If he was to let her go now, not only would she feel the keen absence of his touch, but she would surely sink to the floor. The feel of his mouth, pressed hot against her, has her knees feeling unsteady.

“(Y/N),” Anthony whispers, nuzzling the side of her neck, “(Y/N)…”

“You keep whispering my name,” She murmurs into the night air; her ragged breath leaving behind white plumes.

“Marry me,” Anthony all but pleads, pulling back from (Y/N)’s neck to gaze into her eyes. “Marry me and always be mine.”

It seemed that time had stopped and lost all of its meaning; there was no party, no gardens, no laughter of lifelong friends. No. In this moment there was only Anthony.

“Yes,” She whispers, laughter beginning to fall from her mouth as fresh as a morning rainfall. Once it starts, she cannot find it in herself to stop. Tears soon join the laughter as a smile breaks across Anthony’s handsome face. “Yes,” She repeats, “I will marry you.”

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ @iammirrorball​

taglists are open! drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

[crowfootwrites]

Undone [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, so this is the first time I could get myself to write smut for Nestor, which is weird to think about because he is a SEXY motherfucker, you know?

Anyway, I know I've been on a Nestor roll lately, but I swear I have other stuff coming, too. Two Bishop pieces and a Chibs piece in the works.

So, this is a fluffy, smutty one-shot for Nestor, whom I adore.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut (cunnilingus, fingering, P in V sex); mention of blood | Words: 1,690

When Nestor arrived home that night, exhausted, with his clothes covered in dried blood, he found you dancing in the kitchen, unaware of his presence. Soft music swelled from your phone propped on the counter and you waltzed over the tile in bare feet, your red silk robe fluttering around your thighs. Your eyes were closed and you wore a dreamy look on your face, swaying to the music that Nestor identified as one of your favorite piano pieces. He stood silently in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you adoringly. After grueling days of carrying out deplorable deeds on behalf of Miguel, Nestor could always count on coming home to your loving embrace, and he was thankful for it every day.

Today had been one of those days, as evidenced by the bloodstains on his clothes and the droop in his shoulders. Your eyes opened slowly to check your phone, awaiting a text or call from Nestor, only to find him standing in front of you, longing in his eyes. Your heart swelled at the sight of him. You glanced briefly at the dried blood on his clothes as you took the few steps that would place him in your arms. He held you tightly, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent of your jasmine perfume. You felt the steady heartbeat in his chest against yours for a moment before stepping back to look over him. You sighed teasingly at his stained clothes.

“What am I going to do with you, Oceteva?”

Nestor grinned sheepishly. “Have a lower water bill probably.”

You laughed, and nudged him towards the laundry room, where you helped him strip down until he stood beside the dryer in just his boxer briefs, leaning casually against the machine. He watched as you began the process of stain removal on his clothes, a process you had refined over the last couple of years with Nestor. While you left his pants and shirt to soak before washing, you glanced over to admire the view of Nestor’s exposed body, smirking to yourself. As your gaze traveled to his face, you recognized the fatigue in his stance and his eyes. With a quiet hum, you traced your fingers lightly over his warm side before lacing them with his. You led him to the living room, bathed in dim yellow lamplight, where you took a seat on the couch with your legs spread and motioned for him to sit on the floor in front you. Relatively early in your relationship, Nestor had confessed just how much he loved when you played with his hair, and so you had always made a point of being the one to do and then undo his hair.

You pulled the little black rubber bands from the bottoms of his two braids, gently running your fingers through the twisted strands to untangle his curls. You were more than a little envious of Nestor’s hair, but being the one who got to play with it felt like an acceptable consolation prize. You worked your way through his hair deliberately, massaging his scalp with your fingertips as you approached the crown of his head, savoring the little sighs and moans that slipped between his lips. Over the years, you had come to associate letting out Nestor’s braids with a weight being lifted, at least for the night; as though each little motion helped to untangle the knots of moral quandary that he carried inside him as a result of his work for the cartel.

In the beginning, Nestor had been hesitant to even get involved with you. He was, understandably, worried about putting you in harm’s way, but he was more worried about the emotional and psychological toll that being even peripherally related to the cartel could cause. It had taken significant convincing on your part to show him that you weren’t afraid, and that you weren’t going anywhere.

When Nestor’s braids were completely undone, you found yourself absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, parsing out his curls and twirling them around your fingers. His head tipped backwards into your lap, his eyes closed contentedly. As you gazed down at him, at the smoothing of the lines on his face, you smiled, letting your fingers caress his cheekbones, the cut across his temple, his bearded jaw. As your thumb grazed his lower lip, he reached a hand to yours, holding it still to place a soft kiss on your palm. You lowered your face to hover over his, nuzzling his nose, and a contented hum resonated in his chest.

Before you could register what was happening, Nestor had turned towards you, coming onto his knees between your legs. He rested his palms on the tops of your thighs, his thumbs brushing the hem of your silk robe. His grasp was firm and warm and it built a slow fire in your belly. His dark eyes studied you, a mixture of hunger and tenderness swirling in their depths. His grip tightened on your legs and he tugged you slightly forward before tugging at the sash of your robe, letting it fall open. You caught the quick clench of his jaw when he realized you were completely naked underneath. He pushed the robe off your shoulders, resting his head on your stomach and for a moment, all was still.

Slowly, Nestor pressed his lips to your hip, dragging the tip of his nose along your skin, raising goosebumps. Your fingers trailed along his cheek as his head moved lower. He nudged your legs further apart, planting a trail of lazy kisses between your thighs. A sigh slipped out of you and you melted into Nestor’s touch as his tongue dipped between your folds, his touch delicate and teasing. When he felt the first twitch of your hips, beckoning, begging for more, he sank himself deeper, his tongue dancing over your clit while two thick fingers pushed into you.

“God, Nestor,” you moaned, coming undone with his efforts.

A low hum of pleasure built in his chest as your fingers wound themselves into his hair and pulled tenderly, keeping him settled between your legs. You begged him for more as your eyes closed, your head falling back against the couch cushions. You squirmed in his grip, your hips grinding against this mouth.

His fingers picked up the pace, and you gazed down at him, whimpering at the hungry look in his dark eyes as he peered back at you from under his full lashes. He studied you intently, captivated by the way your body writhed before him. His free hand slid in a slow caress up your side, cupping your breast and running his thumb gently over your nipple. Heat radiated across your face as the coil in your belly tightened, so utterly close to snapping. Nestor pushed you further, lapping against your core with a flattened tongue. A new pressure settled behind your eyes as you trembled desperately, every muscle in your body tensed as Nestor took you over the edge. You came hard and loud, your thighs clenching around Nestor’s head instinctively as you rode the jolt of electricity surging through you. Nestor didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers bearing down on you until you were pushing him away, thoroughly overstimulated. He sat back on his heels with a smirk as you panted, your lips parted in reverence.

You pushed yourself up with weak arms, your chest heaving. You reached out and pulled Nestor to you, capturing him in a desperate kiss, not wanting him to be any farther away from you. Whining breathily at the taste of yourself on his tongue, you gripped his hips firmly, guiding him to sit on the couch beside you. You admired the way the soft light in your living room warmed his skin, highlighting the taut planes of his chest and stomach. You swung your leg lazily over his lap, straddling him as his lips delicately brushed the soft skin between your breasts.

You gasped as you lowered yourself onto Nestor’s hard length, warmth reigniting in the base of your belly. His strong hands slipped over your hips and came to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. Your chest rested flush against his, your rapid heartbeats echoing one another’s. You looped your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against the crown of his head, rolling your hips against him. Unbridled groans and mumbled words of admiration tumbled from his mouth, his face captive between your breasts. His hands pressed harder on your back, pulling you down to bury himself fully inside you. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit slowly to send you reeling. Nestor tossed his head back, his long curls splayed over the couch cushions, his neck bared to you. You trailed kisses along his neck tattoo, letting your tongue taste the salt on his skin. He murmured your name and you felt him tense beneath you. He took control, fucking up into you, slow and exacting, chasing his high.

It was too much; the tender way Nestor touched you, the building tension in your core, the slow rhythm and heat between your bodies. As his hips bucked beneath you, you came again, head thrown back and back arched, bliss coursing through your veins. The feeling of your walls clenching around Nestor’s cock wrecked him. With a few more erratic thrusts, he clutched you to his chest and spilled himself inside of you, his arms locking you in place. As he came down, he pressed velvet kisses along your cheekbones and across your forehead.

“Gracias por cuidarme, hermosa. (Thank you for taking care of me, beautiful.) Coming home to you keeps me sane,” he mumbled against your temple.

“You deserve to be taken care of, mi amor,” you whispered, running your hands through his loose curls again, watching as his eyelids began to droop at the fond touch. You smiled warmly, satisfied that, at least until tomorrow, Nestor’s braids had been undone and he had been unburdened.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Also, we talked a mill years ago about an Inuyasha AU? You wanted to make G wear the necklace etc. Which OBVIOUSLY is a fantastic idea and I really which you would, please 🤣😘💗

Okay, so this isn’t exactly the necklace bit, but it’s the most Inuyasha crossover thing I could think of at the moment! Also I’m sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so long! <3 Oops!

Geralt turns into a human one night a month, during the new moon.

wordcount: 1.7k

TW: emotional Geralt whump, angst with a happy ending, pining

---

“Stay in the room,” Geralt instructed, glaring Jaskier down from his place near the door. The bard nodded obediently and made a show of pulling his recently acquired book from his travel bag. 

“I might go down and perform for a bit, but I promise not to bring anyone back and I promise not to start any fights.”

“I’d rather you didn’t leave the room at all,” Geralt grumbled, “But I suppose the coin wouldn’t hurt.”

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Next town over. Nightwraith.”

“Why can’t I come with you?” the bard pouted. His lower lip stuck out slightly and his eyes crinkled so cutely that it always made the Witcher question his ‘human’ parentage; there was a siren’s power in the way he turned up his nose and fluttered his pretty lashes. “Surely I could sit incredibly high up in a very sturdy tree and watch my glorious companion in all his… glory?”

“Excellent word choice,” Geralt rolled his eyes. He hefted his swords over his shoulder and shot the bard another meaningful look.  “I’ll see you in the morning. Stay. Safe.”

“Yes, Milord,” Jaskier sighed dramatically, flopping back against the pillows and opening his book. “Return to me in as few pieces as possible, dear heart.”

“Hmm.”

And with that, Geralt disappeared into the late afternoon light. 

---

There had been several distinctive changes to Geralt’s physical body after the second round of experimental Trials; his hair, of course, and his ghostly-pale skin were the most obvious. His greatest secret, however, and the strangest of all the Trials’ side effects, were the temporary changes he underwent on the nights of the new moon. His Witcher strength and senses abandoned him and his body returned to its pre-Trial state. He became, for all intents and purposes, a normal human man. 

He hated it. He hated himself. There was no power behind his punches on his human nights and while he remained graceful and competent with his swords, he lost his speed and dexterity. It left him feeling helpless and alone, and an onslaught of emotions (which he was usually able to suppress or ignore) flooded his mind, pulling tears from his eyes and putting a ruddy redness on his cheeks and ears that he found ugly. No doubt Jaskier would find him just as hideous. And useless…

If he couldn’t protect the bard, the handsome young human who smiled at him as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be friends with a Witcher, then what good was he? Keeping Jaskier safe, keeping him alive and smiling like that, was what motivated Geralt to slump his way back to their room even when he wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and pass out from exhaustion. Making sure Jaskier was okay (and, alright, getting his wounds fawned over and his hair washed wasn’t too bad either) was what kept him alive.

I can’t believe I forgot to keep track, Geralt berated himself as he set up his small campfire just inside the mouth of a cave. I almost revealed my secret to Jaskier. 

Geralt wasn’t sure which outcome he feared more: Jaskier seeing him in his less horrible state and rejecting him completely for keeping secrets/being a true monster, or Jaskier finding his human body attractive and being even more disgusted by his Witchery appearance. Geralt wouldn’t be able to stand either outcome, so he disappeared into the woods or back to the Path (if Jaskier was stuck in a town, teaching or performing) whenever the night of the new moon arrived.

He sighed and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his bent knees and setting his chin on one upright palm. He glanced up at Roach and grumbled out an excuse: “I just don’t want to lose him.”

Roach whinnied quietly, reproachfully, and Geralt nodded. 

“You’re absolutely right, I should tell Jaskier about all of this, but if I tell him now, after travelling together for so long, he’ll think I don’t trust him. And I do trust him! I trust him as much as I trust my brothers, maybe more considering their pranks… But I don’t want to scare him off, either. I’m such a fucking coward.”

As the last light of day slipped away beneath the horizon and darkness fell, Geralt felt his hair grow coarser and heavier atop his head. His eyesight dimmed and his knowledge of the landscape - every scent and sound - disappeared from his consciousness. The scars on his skin faded away into nothing as his pupils dilated into circles, the irises shifting from honey-gold to a deep, forest green. 

From a nearby bush, Geralt heard a familiar voice mutter, “Holy shit.”

He leapt to his feet and backed against the cave wall, throwing his arm across his face to hide it. “Dammit, Jaskier, I told you to stay at the inn!”

The bard took a nervous step forward, away from his hiding place, and waved bashfully. “Sorry, dear heart. Are you really- is it really you in there, Geralt?”

“Yes?” the Witcher-turned-human raised an eyebrow, lowering his arm back down to his side with no small amount of shame. “Who else would it be?”

“Well,” the bard said, taking a measured step forward. “I wasn’t sure if this was, like, a reverse-werewolf type deal. I didn’t know if you’d have the same memories as before or- or if-”

“It’s still me,” Geralt blushed, actually blushed, and dipped his head down to avoid Jaskier’s curious gaze. “I’m sorry for not telling you before, but-”

“Don’t.”

Geralt glanced back up, even more confused, his emotions playing havoc with his pulse. “I- Don’t I owe you an apology?”

“No,” Jaskier said, settling down on the rocky ground across the fire and gesturing for Geralt to join him. The flames lit up his face, highlighting the roundness of his cheeks and the softness in his eyes. So youthful, yet so determined. “If you’re still Geralt in here” - he tapped the side of his head and grinned playfully - “then you’re still my best friend.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh yeah, my Witcher is definitely in there somewhere,” Jaskier laughed brightly. The sound wound down and he wiped a tear of glee from the corner of his eye. After a long, sobering pause he asked: “So is this what you looked like before… they did all that stuff to you?”

“Before the Trials? Yes. This is what I looked like fifty years or so ago, when I was young and mortal. My shoulders are wider, of course, but that’s just old age.”

Jaskier made his way slowly around the fire, inching closer to Geralt, who had finally taken a seat on his bedroll. When the bard was right next to him, close enough for Geralt to feel their combined body heat through his shirt, he took a lock of Geralt’s hair in his hand. “It’s… it’s not as soft, like this. But it has curls! And it’s almost red!”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier looked overjoyed at the change, and every one of Geralt’s fears flashed before his eyes. He was tempted to wrench away, to fling himself up into Roach’s saddle and ride hard until they both needed a rest. 

But Jaskier had begun talking again, and Geralt did his best to pay attention. “It’s different, but not bad. I think you’re only slightly more handsome when you’re a Witcher, but  your eyes are a lovely shade of green and I’d love to do up your hair someday… if you’d like that. If you’d let me.”

Geralt made a startled noise and turned his head sharply, his eyes boring into Jaskier’s very soul. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course!”

“You don’t- you aren’t mad? Or scared? You don’t think I’m more approachable like this? You wouldn’t prefer me to be like this - like a human - all the time?”

Jaskier shook his head, a sadness Geralt often noticed but didn’t understand falling over his face. “Oh Geralt, you silly, silly, wonderful man. I don’t lo-” - he paused, took a deep breath, and continued - “I love you, okay? As a Witcher. Like this. I have always loved you and I will always love you, regardless of what you look like, but I fell in love with the White Wolf. The man whose reputation needed mending and whose heart… whose heart is so incredibly large despite how often the world tries to harden it.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt gasped. He clutched at his chest, the ache he felt there intensifying a hundredfold under Jaskier’s steady gaze. “I love you, too. I never thought-”

“You often don’t,” the bard teased, closing the space between them with careful, intentional slowness. “Now, keep up the good work and stop thinking entirely. Just kiss me, Geralt. Please?”

“Would you like it if I kissed you?” the Witcher asked, incredulous. Jaskier lifted one delicate hand and slid a lock of Geralt’s curly hair back behind his ear. He pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s cheek and smiled. 

“Very much, darling.”

“Alright,” Geralt breathed, closing the space between them. It felt so much more intense like this, with his heart beating as quickly as Jaskier’s, threatening to burst from his chest because it was overflowing with happiness. His hand, smooth and unblemished in its current state, cupped the peach-soft skin of the bard’s cheek. He ran his thumb over the hinge of Jaskier’s jaw, feeling the bone and joint working as their mouths moved together. When they finally pulled apart they were both beaming broadly, “Was it okay?”

“You’re very soft like this,” Jaskier noted. “But I miss your eyes and your hair… when will my Geralt return?”

“I’m still yours, Jaskier. Even when I look like this,” Geralt frowned. Jaskier took one of the Witcher’s hands in both of his and held it flat over his heart.

“I know, my dear. And I’m always yours, of course. It’s just… odd. I’ll get used to it the more often I see it, I’m sure. How long does it usually last?”

“I’ll be back to normal when the sun rises.”

“Until then?”

“Come here,” Geralt held up the corner of his blanket. Jaskier shifted so that they were cuddled together, side-by-side. “Better?”

“Now that I’m with you? Of course.”

[youngerdrgrey]

highlight(s) of my life // a WildMoore fanfic (2/2)

about: Inspired by Sophie's new S3 highlights. Good Bro ™ Ryan Wilder teases Sophie about what other post-break up activities Sophie might have partaken in. Sophie is less than amused and more than a little interested.

read part one here + read part two on ao3

🦇

Right. It’s not like Ryan hasn’t considered it. Sophie is, well, she’s Sophie freaking Moore. But she’s also Sophie ‘Kate’s ex,’ and Sophie ‘member of the Bat Team.’ Sophie ‘quit her job after Ryan wanted her to.’ Sophie ‘sat with Ryan on Coryana when they both thought Ryan was dying.’

There have been many nights where Ryan lies awake with the ghost of Sophie’s hand in hers. It’s ridiculous. She couldn’t really feel the heat of Sophie through the gloves. But she could feel Sophie’s shoulder. Hear Sophie’s breathing along with the crackle of the field. Remember Sophie’s voice straining as she urged Ryan to hold on just a little longer, just until they got to Luke.

Ryan used to say she wanted to go peacefully, in her sleep, with her wife beside her. Very The Notebook. Dying on Coryana like that wouldn’t have been the exact same, but it wasn’t the worst interpretation.

Maybe that moment did something to her. Maybe it changed them both. Maybe it… crossed some wires to have literally been there together through that. Or maybe it has more to do with the last few weeks. With everything from “I know you’re Batwoman, Ryan” through to here, in the bar, with Sophie’s expectant eyes on her.

What the fuck does Ryan say to that?

Another woman slips up beside Sophie before Ryan can respond. This brown skinned girl with dark blue box braids and a staggering set of dimples. Her smile’s amazing as she turns to Sophie.

“I’ve seen you around here before. Vodka, right?” she asks.

Ryan responds at the same time that Sophie does. “Tequila,” they say together. Ryan flashes back to that night of Never Have I Ever at the loft. Back when the couch seemed miles long and too small at the same time, when Ryan’s face betrayed her and softened as she watched Sophie think up things that she hadn’t done.

Sophie gives Box Braids a polite smile before looking back to Ryan. “Can we…?” She motions with her head to the side.

Box Braids’ eyes volley between Sophie and Ryan. “Ah. Well, can I still get the discount?”

Ryan shakes her head at Box Braids. “Deal’s off. Sorry.” Box Braids walks off, and Sophie stares at Ryan expectantly. The thing is, if Ryan goes with Sophie, then everything changes. That should be a good thing. That could be, right?

Ryan scans the bar for some kind of excuse. Sophie clocks the avoidance. Sophie’s earlier nervousness shifts into impatience. Her brows lift as she tries to tamp it down.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be off soon anyway.”

Ryan chuckles. “Leaving work early? Issa bad look for the manager.” Sophie glares at Ryan, which, okay, that’s fair. Sophie’s trying to put herself out there, and Ryan can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“You know what else is a bad look?” Sophie motions at the general charged air between them. “This. I’m a big girl, Ryan. If you’re not interested, then say that. I can handle it.”

After being rejected by her own mom, a bartender probably wouldn’t hold much weight. Ryan gulps. It’s not that she isn’t interested. It’s just… the timing and the bar and… the them. But she can’t let Sophie leave thinking that Ryan’s not interested.

Ryan pulls her apron off and slips it under the counter. “Come on.” She leads the way from behind the bar and out towards the back exit. Sophie follows her without another word. They turn down the small employee-only hallway and out the door to the back.

It’ll be better out here. It’s private, but not too private. The loft would’ve been an awful idea. Mary’s gone tonight, and it would’ve just been the two of them. Just Sophie with her sunshine hair and incredible lips.

The back of the bar’s well lit, but it’s an overhead light that somehow makes Sophie look smaller than normal. Sophie holds herself tighter when she’s unsure. As if exuding confidence will make up for the fact that she so clearly doesn’t know how to proceed here.

Sophie breaks the silence first. “Believe it or not, I thought this would go much smoother.”

Has she thought about this a lot? How long has Sophie been into her? Ryan bites down the questions and goes for a smooth response of her own.

“How’d you see it going?”

Sophie glances around. Her eyes land on the bench against the brick wall. It’s mostly for smokers and vapers. One time Ryan saw two people hooking up on it. Ryan’d hosed them down and taped a ‘DO NOT HAVE SEX HERE’ sign on the wall behind it. Sophie chuckles at the sign as she crosses to sit down.

She leans back. “First, I walk in with my new hair and my nice outfit, but you don’t see me right away.” She’s already off to the wrong start. Ryan had spotted Sophie the moment that she entered The Hold Up. Ryan played it off, but Ryan usually knew where Sophie was.

Sophie continues, “I sit at the corner of the bar and wait until you look my way. You’d go to make me a drink, but I’d stop you and say that we’re getting out of here.”

Ryan would’ve smiled at that. Would’ve joked that Sophie isn’t in charge here, and Sophie would’ve lifted a brow in a silent challenge. Her apron would’ve been tucked under the counter within minutes.

Sophie grins. “I drive us out to the quarry near the river. There’s not much to do there, so it’s quiet when nothing else ever is. I’ve got blankets in my car, and a hoodie since you never wear real clothes.”

Ryan cuts in. “I wear real clothes.” Sophie gives her a doubtful look from the bench. There’s still way too much space between them, so Ryan walks over to sit beside Sophie. “I’m not knocking your plan or anything, but you know I have a van, right? It’s got a heater, a ton of blankets, and a lot more space than your car.”

Sophie’s eyes widen. “Wait, is that where you went when Kate came back?” She turns to face Ryan as her own face crumples. “You chose a van over staying with me?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Ryan insists.

Sophie’s tone hardens anyway. “Yeah, right.”

Ryan shakes her head. “It wasn’t. I…. I’m used to holding space and giving it back.” In group homes, in seasonal jobs, and here, in the most important job she’s ever had. “You were so excited to have her back, and I didn’t want to be in the way of that. It’s easier if I just let go.”

Sophie breathes that in, and her eyes seek out Ryan’s. Ryan averts hers to the ground in front of them. She doesn’t need to see the pity. It’s not—

“Hey,” Sophie bumps her shoulder into Ryan’s, “You’re not in the way. You were once or twice, like when you stopped my fear toxin run, but….” Sophie takes a deep breath. “I meant what I said during the blackout. About you making Batwoman your own and giving the city hope again. It’s not the suit that did that. It’s you. And I would gladly spend the whole night praising you if that’s what it takes for you to see that.”

Her tone’s earnest and raspy in the way that makes Ryan’s heart swell. It’s hard to talk around it, so Ryan jokes, “I don’t need your praise. It’s not really my thing.”

Sophie reaches up to cup Ryan’s cheek in her hand. Ryan melts into the touch. It would be embarrassing, if not for the fact that Sophie’s hand shakes just a bit against Ryan’s skin.

As Ryan turns her head to face Sophie’s, Sophie whispers, “Show me what is?”

Honestly, the praise thing would be pretty great. Ryan could use a few reminders that she’s meant to be here, that Sophie wants this and wants them. That Ryan’s not a placeholder and is actually the reason Sophie’s sitting out here instead of going after any of the women who might want her.

Ryan lifts a hand to the highlights in Sophie’s hair. “You really do look amazing.”

Sophie smirks. “You should see them in the sun. Maybe in the morning?”

Ryan laughs. “Very smooth.” She drops her forehead, and Sophie brings hers to meet it. “I’m not that easy.”

Sophie snorts. “You’ve never been easy, Ryan. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

This could be an awful idea. But Ryan’s done a lot worse than go out with a woman she’s already falling for. Ryan has to look through her lashes to meet Sophie’s eyes. They’re rich and searching, and Ryan knows hers could give the answer. Hers could give everything. So she pulls back just enough to bring her lips to Sophie’s. A soft brush at first. A yes to trying. A yes to a night on the river and finding each other under the covers. A yes to a life, if that’s what Sophie wants.

Sophie chases after Ryan’s lips, catching her and deepening the conversation. Because she does want. She’s shown again and again that she wants anything Ryan will give her. She’s gone along with ridiculous plans and the countless times that Ryan’s iced her out. She’s here for this, and as her tongue swipes across Ryan’s lips, Ryan finally lets her in.

When they do break away, Ryan’s breathless. “You wanna see my van?”

Sophie laughs, then nods, then kisses Ryan again. “Who’s easy now?”

🦇

[binniedeactivated]

𝐓𝐞𝐦����𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. || h.k

╰─▸🖤 ❝ @[@𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ]

✎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐱 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

✎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

✎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 4k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚𝐢.

*𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲*

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒;  𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

a/n; 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥! (p.s i hope ya’ll like this new concept I’m giving the maknaes)

she slips out of her bathrobe and steps into the steaming shower. the heat of it all somehow lifting this weight off of her shoulders. she had just finished grad school for psychotherapy and god only knows where she’s going from here. she thought things would be easy you know. as soon as she’s done with school she gets to go ahead and get a good paying job, buy a nice home and then her and soobin could finished living their happy life together.

but no. it wasn’t like that at all. 

they were married and struggling. soobin was trying his best to finish up med school and become the surgeon that he wanted to be ever since he was a kid. luckily in the meantime he landed a job as a dental assistant which means they weren’t flat broke. but they also weren’t making enough money to start a life of their own. 

so yes, they were on the edge of getting evicted from their home and struggling with bills. and it stressed kaija out more than anything else in the world. she thought once she got marriage out the way, especially at a young age she’d be alright and living the life of her dreams. but it seemed everything was the complete opposite. 

she slides into her nude colored body con dress,  the long sleeved one with the neck that stopped just above her cleavage and the hem that stopped just below her knees, one that hugged her body the way she liked and made her feel like she was on top of the world. she let her long, sleek and black middle parted hair stop above her lower back. and with no hesitation she also steps into her favorite black suede heels, ones that fit her like socks did almost. 

this is what kaija did. 

every morning she’d dress to impress, swooping her edges with gel, installing her lashes and beating her face with makeup until she looked like a barbie doll. she would blame it all on the company’s “standards”. giving soobin the run around about how she “had” to look like that. but in her heart she knew she didn’t. 

soobin gifts her the daily morning pecks on her cheeks and lips. telling her how good she looked and to not worry because everything was going to be fine. kaija smiled her pretty smile as always and convinced him that she knew everything was okay. it was easy to convince everyone but herself. 

she was handed a file first thing this morning. to which she sat at her desk and looked over it while drinking her morning coffee. what she wasn’t expecting was her client to be so prompt. within just a few minutes of her reading over his file her assistant was opening the door saying, “heuning kai is ready to see you”. and kaija nods giving her the okay to let him in. 

she stopped in her tracks once she saw the man. he dressed in a simple black suit and black slacks. his hair was brown and near shoulder length, parted graciously to the side like so. he wore a white dress shirt beneath it, the collar of it sprawled neatly on the top of his suit jacket and the top buttons were undone giving kaija a clear view of his thin diamond encrusted necklace that fitted him the same way a choker would. milky skin, pudgy pink lips and sullen eyes. and not to mention he was tall with broad shoulders. one of the few things that always were on kaija’s checklist. 

“good morning how are you doing? I’m heuning kai”. 

kaija blinked and quickly stood to her feet to shake his hand. she smiles nervously. “nice to meet you kamal--I meant heun--or heuning kai I’m sorry I just finished reading your file so my mind is all over the place”. 

stupid kaija and her always talking too fast. 

he chuckles a little. oh god, kaija wanted to pinch herself. she couldn’t be acting like this. she’s a married woman.

“it’s alright, any name will do”. he assures. 

“okay then. take your seat if you may. we can get started as soon as possible”.

he sits in front of her desk and scoots his chair in a bit. she plucks up his file. 

“so? I see that you’re a young CEO, looking for someone long term correct?”.

he nods. “absolutely”.

she continues reading. “hm, no kids but you’d like some in the future....you’re religious...you don’t smoke...you drink on occasion---it says here that you wouldn’t want a woman that isn’t the jealous type? do you mind telling me little more about that?”.

“well, I think of jealousy a bit differently. I think jealousy is another form of love. you get jealous in a relationship when you feel as though someone or something is a threat to your connection with your significant other. there’s nothing wrong with that. I want a woman whose jealous even about the small things. it’s comforting to know that she loves and wants me that much”.

kaija never mentioned the hypnotic smoothness he had to his voice that reeled her in. she couldn’t stop looking at him and his sharp jawline and silky hair. she was on the verge of asking him to repeat himself but luckily she heard the important things. 

“and..you don’t think that’s a bit crazy? a woman being jealous over little things?”.

“i happen to think it’s cute”.

kaija nods and gives him a small okay before she continues reading. that was definitely something she’s never heard before. her eyes skim over some of his answers and she finds herself subtly chuckling. 

“oh wow, you have a little attitude don’t you? you don’t like being ignored, you don’t like the silent treatment, you don’t like when your significant other doesn’t give you the attention you want. you don’t like when she isn’t on your side in arguments?”. 

he diligently nods his head. “that’s correct”. 

“heuning? how do you expect to find love with all of these requirements? a woman isn’t going to always be on your side in every argument. and what if the both of you have kids? she can’t always give you the attention you ask for”. 

“and why not?”. he asked, with his face practically made of stone. kaija was expecting to him at least crack a smile or something. but she realized he was serious. and he was genuinely curious as to why he couldn’t have the woman of his dreams. she swallows. 

“well, because it’s unrealistic”. 

“I think there are a lot of things that are unrealistic until they actually happen. though I’m young, I’m a big fan of old time love. and that’s hard to find nowadays. I’d like to send roses to my girlfriend’s place of work at random times. I’d like to write her a whole bunch of love letters telling her how beautiful she is and how she lights up my life. I want to take her to picnics by the river and take pictures of her when she isn’t looking. I want to take midnight drives with the windows down and vibe to music and eat food. we can travel the world together, gambling in vegas or having dates in the pool caves of Greece. I want to give her everything she asks for and everything she doesn’t ask for. but most importantly I want to love her like no one else has loved her. nothing more nothing less”. 

kaija could just cry. half of those things she didn’t even do with soobin. they only went on dates when neither of them were tired or stressed and most times they argued so much that they barely spoke to one another. 

“is everything alright?”. kai asks after the prolonged silence. she snaps out of it. 

“yes--yes everything is fine I’m just a little surprised by your answer there”. 

“I know you probably think I’m too young for all of that but it’s what I really want”. and he was right. younger than kaija and wanting all of that. 

she writes down additional notes. “no it’s fine. It’s just something i wasn’t expecting. you have a fairytale ideal type of love. hopeless romantic. it’s cute”. 

kai chuckles. “you seem to be shocked way too often by all of this. I’m sure looking like that you’ve been wined and dined plenty”. 

kaija smirks a bit while her pen dances along the page. “looking like that?”. she repeats his words. 

“yes you’re gorgeous”. 

she tilts her head to the side trying to stifle a blush. “ i think we’re here to set you up with one of my clients, not to set you up with me. I think we should keep things professional”. 

“if things were as professional as you’re trying to keep it why are you blushing then?”. he smiles and kaija laughs at his boldness. 

“i think we should stop here for today��. she says closing his file. 

“oh good, that gives me time to ask if you’re free tonight?”. 

she crosses her legs and clicks her tongue at the question. “listen here, heuning. I don’t know what you think this is. I’m not some booty call or a one night fling. I’m a grown woman. so don’t come in here thinking just because you’re cute and rich, I owe you something because I don’t”. 

kai oddly grins. he sits up in his chair staring into her eyes like his life depended on it.  “I know, love. you’re right you owe me nothing. but let’s face facts life sucks. but dinner never hurt anyone has it? as friends”. 

kaija smiles a bit and folds her arms on the desk. he was right. her life was a mess right now and friends were okay right? “fine. and life does suck so this better be the highlight of my day”.  

“what time are you off today?”. 

“5pm”. 

“i’ll be here around that time. is that okay?”. 

“yes that’s okay”.

texting soobin that she would be coming home later tonight was easier than she thought. usually because as soon as he came home from work he slept so he’d barely notice anyways. she was exhausted by the time she locked up her office and she forgot kai was even coming. so of course she was startled to see a black mercedes benz waiting for her outside the building. she sighed once she saw kai opening the passenger door for her. she gave him a small thank you and he slides in the driver’s seat soon after.

she straps on her seatbelt. “boy I’m surprised you have a license”. kai chuckles and he starts driving. “seriously how young do you think I am?”. 

“I have your file I know your age”. 

“so you just like teasing me about it?”. 

she laughs. “pretty much”.

“but if I were to call you a cougar I’d be wrong right?”. kai laughs and kaija laughs along with him, surprised by his humor. “yes you’d be wrong because i’m not that old and I don’t have any kids”.

“so how old are you then if you don’t mind me asking?”. 

“when that becomes your business maybe i’ll tell you”. 

“you’re right. you owe me nothing”. 

she thinks for a moment. “hm. if I tell you my age will you tell me something?”.“something like?”.

“what is someone as young as you doing trying to find love at a firm? you’re rich and good looking can’t you just go out and find someone easily?”.

he laughs while turning a corner. “and find someone who will just use me for my money?”. “how do you know the clients we have won’t do the same?”.

“when you match make you look at all of our attributes. rich, poor, dumb or smart. you analyze the way we think and how we think to see if we would go well with other people. If theres someone who sounds like a gold digger you won’t match them with me. besides, it’s not that I hate gold diggers I just hate if it’s the sole purpose of dating me. it’s hard to deny the fact that people love someone with a little extra money”. 

“that’s true. it kind of makes me want to match you with a gold digger for shits and giggles now”. 

kai laughs and shakes his head. “please don’t. we’re here though”.

she unstraps her seatbelt and like the gentlemen kai was he opens the door for her. all in all though she could safely say she wasn’t expecting kai to take her to a cooking class. kaija didn’t know what to think really, until she actually started doing it. she thought it was kind of fun making messes and trying to cook things she didn’t know how to cook alongside kai. “don’t cut me!”. kai playfully shrieks and she laughs seeing the tip of her knife just centimeters from his arm. she thought he looked stunning even with a messy black apron and his white sleeves rolled to his elbows. she laughs, “I’m not! just move”.  trying to cut the garnish while kai was on steak duty. 

she wasn’t a big fan of asparagus but it was on the menu. that and mashed potatoes which she offered to cook since kai was chopping enough pieces of garlic to kill them both. the teacher cheered them on consistently and was sure to correct their mistakes but kaija still felt a little unprepared for all of this. it wasn’t every day where she went to a cooking class trying to cook gourmet meals. 

she was measuring the cream cheese for the potatoes and kai was measuring the olive oil for the asparagus. she laughed at the way he looked. messy as hell and definitely not the rich boy that walked into her office this morning.

“and what you laughing at?”. he peered down at her with an amused grin.

“you”. she laughed again.

“and what about me is so funny?”.

“a billionaire cooking. a billionaire not taking me out for dinner but taking me to a cooking class to make our dinner. it’s cute”. 

“I thought it would be fun. aren’t you having fun?”.

“yes i am actually. the most fun I ever had while cooking”. 

“I’m glad because I’m having fun too. I can’t wait to see how this turns out”. 

kaija laughs watching him pour the salt. 

“nasty and salty as hell now”. 

kai sits down the salt shaker and laughs trying to dust some of the salt cubes off to spare them both. but he didn’t know if that really worked especially when they sat down to eat. kai tries his hardest to hide his growing pain for his salty vegetables but kaija laughed knowing all he wanted to do was spit them in the trash. 

“I mean-- you did a decent job on the steak”. she compliments stifling a laugh. 

he finally coughed them up in his napkin, “damn I really don’t belong in the kitchen. these mash potatoes are good though. I guess as you get older you get better at cooking”. he teases. she playfully hit him on the shoulder. 

“I’m not old!”. she recites once more. “you’re just young as hell”. 

“if you were so offended by my age you wouldn’t be hanging with me right now”. 

“i don’t know, maybe I just need something different in my life I guess”. she unintentionally confides forking over her food. 

“well, when that becomes my business I’ll ask”. 

she rolls her eyes and laughs. “you’re annoying”.

it was a night kaija definitely wasn’t expecting. especially with a billionaire who had enough money to take her any place she wanted. it was fun though she had to admit. she laughed and smiled more than she had in a long time. and she didn’t want the feeling to end especially when kai pulled up to her house. 

“thank you for hanging with me, buddy”. he jokes. kaija snatches up her purse hoping soobin was still asleep. “thank you. I had a good time”. he smiled a little with his eyes peering at her house. he couldn’t help but notice her lights were on and tv as well. almost as if someone was home. “you live alone? it looks like you have an intruder”, he asks. “I like to leave my things on”. she lies. 

 he was heading to open the door for her but kaija assures him that she has it and that he’d done enough gentleman stuff today. 

he admired her for all she was while she slips out the car. she was so beautiful. “I’d like to do this again maybe? as friends”. 

she sighs. “I don’t kno--”. 

“please? you can’t expect me to have this much of a good time and only do this once”. 

“as friends. have a good night heuning kai”.

she shuts the car door and he sits back in the driver’s seat. satisfied with her answer even if it was sprinkled with a little sass. there was no point in denying the fact that he wanted her. 

and there was something twisted about his brain. when he wanted something he had to have it by any means necessary. even if it killed him.

but she would never know far he’d go just to have her.

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 1 (Multi) - Joley

a/n: there were too many ships to fit into the title but the ones in this fic are crygi, lemyanka, sportsdoll, jaidie, and branjie/kamjie

Lemon let out a whiny groan as her alarm went off. Unlike the average alarm, hers was set to 6:30 at night, leaving her just enough time to get up and ready for her shift. She sat up and looked over, then gave Priyanka’s shoulder a light shove. “Rise and shine,” she mumbled as she got out of bed and grabbed the lingerie she’d laid out that morning and covered it with sweats and Priyanka’s flannel shirt.

“Every day I have to wake up and participate in society,” Priyanka lamented as she got out of bed. Her uniform consisted of a simple black t-shirt and jeans, making her routine much shorter than Lemon’s, who had to get all dolled up. “Gonna make coffee,” she decided, shuffling into the kitchen.

While Priyanka was making coffee, Jan came out of the other bedroom. “We carpooling tonight, Pri?” she asked, propping her elbows up on the counter and resting her chin on her hands.

“Yeah, if y’all aren’t planning on hanging out once the shift ends,” she answered, a slight stiffness in her tone. “Can’t stick around.”

Jan knew she needn’t say anything else. “Gotcha,” she nodded before grabbing her sweatshirt off the couch.

The three of them arrived at the club and clocked in on time, much like they always did. Priyanka went to get her station set up while Jan and Lemon joined the other girls in the dressing room to finish their makeup.

“Brooke Lynn told me she’s bringing in a friend of hers tonight,” Vanessa remarked as she swiped highlighter along her cheek. “Met at a convention or some shit in France and this is her welcoming celebration ‘cause she just moved out here.”

“Rich and French?” Jan’s brow quirked with interest and she strummed her fingers together, acting as if she were ‘scheming’. “Damn, I’m glad I just got my hair done.”

“But what if she tips you in euros?” Gigi chuckled.

“Actually,” Jaida chimed in, “the euro is worth like, twenty percent more than the dollar. So, it’d be a better gig if she did.” She tilted her head when the rest of the girls looked at her with either surprised or perplexed expressions. “What? I can know shit too.”

Jackie poked her head into the dressing room, then leaned against the doorframe. “I come in and you guys are talking about economics? I never cease to be amazed at this place. Anyway, just letting all of you know that the new security guard is starting tonight. I expect you all to be nice to her.”

“We’re always nice,” Jan cooed and batted her lashes. “Aren’t we, girls?”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve got an image to maintain,” Lemon retorted.

Just as Jackie was about to turn and leave, she heard footsteps and turned around. “Oh good, Kameron, you’re here. Come say hi to the girls,” she said, excitedly gesturing her over.

A muscled, tattooed blonde made her way over, stopping just a step into the dressing room. She seemed very aware of all the eyes on her, and perhaps a bit shy because of it. “Hey,” she greeted with an awkward wave.

Jackie went down the line introducing the girls. “This is Lemon, Jan, Gigi, Jaida, and Vanessa. Don’t worry, they don’t bite.”

“I make no promises,” Vanessa chimed in, twirling her hair around her finger as she looked Kameron over.

Jaida chuckled and tapped Vanessa’s thigh. “Down, girl. Sit. Stay.” Then she looked back up and warned Kameron, “Vanjie likes blondes.”

“Behave,” Jackie jokingly chastised, though she knew it would fall on deaf ears. “I’m gonna go get Kameron set up out front,” she said before the two of them left.

Once they’d left, Gigi leaned over to talk to Vanessa. “How’s your girlfriend gonna feel about you giving bedroom eyes to the new recruit, huh?”

“Relax, I just looked at her, not like I tried to eat her pussy or somethin’,” she retorted. “And you can’t say shit about girlfriends when your ass can’t even ask Crystal out on a date.” She got a chorus of ‘ooooh’ from the other girls at that and made Gigi turn red.

——

“Gigi, Jaida, and I are gonna hit up that new diner two blocks over after work, you in?” Crystal asked during a slow point in their shift.

Priyanka sighed and looked down at the empty glasses she was clearing off from the bar. “Can’t,” she mumbled, then reluctantly added, “I told Mark I’d pick him up from the airport.”

“I should’ve recognized that pain face,” she mused with a sympathetic nod. “Does your girlfriend know your boyfriend’s back in town?” she asked, cocking her head to the stage Lemon was dancing on.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Priyanka caught the defensiveness in her tone, so she tried to playfully follow it up with “she’s my mistress.”

Crystal chuckled, dividing her attention between her coworker and the customers that came up to the bar. “Whatever you gotta call it. At least he’s out of town like, what, forty weeks out of the year?”

“And yet it never feels like enough.”

The other bartender shook her head. “Remind me again why you’re still with him.”

“He’s… my safety blanket. No one asks me too many questions if they know I’m still with him. I can be normal and not have to worry about my family disowning me,” she explained.

“Oh, right, I forgot how far in the closet you are. Which is easy to do when you consider… every other aspect of your personality.” Crystal looked over and spotted Brooke Lynn approaching with a dark-haired woman at her side. “Who’s your friend, Brooke?”

“This is Nicky, she just moved here from Paris. Had to give her the proper welcome, you know?” Brooke explained. “I ran it by Jackie, gonna have her set up in the VIP room once she picks who she wants to-”

“Her.” Nicky had only turned away for a moment when her eyes locked on one of the dancers. “I have decided. I want that one.”

Brooke looked over, amused at the promptness in her decision. “Jan? Good choice. Crystal, set Nicky up with a cognac while I go let Jackie know to get her set up,” she explained as she got up. “If I don’t come back, assume Vanjie’s got me captive and don’t send for help.”

Priyanka watched as Brooke left. “God, that bitch has her whole life together and then some. Like, actual life goals, you know?”

“Priyanka also aspires to be a rich businesswoman that gets to rail a stripper on the regular,” Crystal explained to Nicky as she handed her the drink.

Nicky lifted her glass to her in approval. “Aim high, love,” she said and took a sip. “So, tell me about this girl I’ve picked, Jan, yes?”

“Oh, Jan’s great,” Crystal told her. “She’s a real sweetheart, you know? Like, the type to accidentally make customers fall in love with her because she just radiates that warm energy. Even had to ruin the illusion by outing herself a couple of times.”

“Yeah, but that was when that guy proposed to her, remember?” Priyanka chimed in. “Nice guy, stupid as all fuck.”

Nicky listened with amusement to the anecdotes the bartenders went on about until she spotted Jan coming her way, instantly tuning out everything around her to focus on the scantily clad woman.

Jan smiled and held her hand out. “Follow me, I’ll take you to the VIP room.”

“Then, by all means, lead the way,” she purred and followed her as they weaved through the club, to a room behind velvet ropes.

The room itself was designed to look even more expensive than it was with its red and gold color scheme and velvety fabrics. There was a plush couch, a table with champagne in an ice bucket, and a basket containing various sexual accessories – fuzzy handcuffs, lube, things of that nature. It was also perfectly spotless, which was easy to maintain with how rarely it was used. For the most part, it was up to the dancers to decide if they even wanted to confirm the existence of VIP rooms, let alone bring anyone into that space.

But Jan seemed thrilled to have Nicky in there with her. Especially since she knew she wouldn’t have to keep up her professional pretenses – Nicky came in with Brooke, after all. “So, I’m sure Brooke probably told you, but we make up whatever rules we want based on the client. But since this is your big American welcome present, I’m cool with following your lead.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Nicky cupped Jan’s face. “I don’t know if you want to give me that much power. There’s just far too much I’d like to do to you.”

Jan felt a chill go up her spine. The intensity of Nicky’s gaze paired with the coolness in her voice had her entranced on the spot. “Even better. Nothing’s sexier than a powerful woman.”

“As if I had any doubt on what a bottom you are,” she lightly teased as she sat down on the couch. She leaned back, admiring the beautiful woman she had all to herself. “Purple is your color,” she observed, admiring the way the violet lingerie fit her body, how it framed her perfectly while still begging to be ripped off.

“Why thank you, it’s my favorite,” Jan hummed, making her way over and straddling Nicky’s lap. She wasn’t used to having any sort of banter on the clock. Normally, a customer’s brain would short circuit as soon as they saw her tits, and that was how she liked it – the best man was a silent man as far as she was concerned.

But even Nicky seemed to have had enough with the talking, having moved on to kissing along Jan’s neck while her hands wandered her body. Eventually, she let them rest on Jan’s ass, which she groped and slapped while the two of them made out.

Jan let out a pleased sigh against Nicky’s lips. She rolled her hips slowly at first, arching towards Nicky’s touch and threading her fingers through her hair. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmured as she undid her new client’s top.

“So are you, angel,” Nicky purred as she unhooked Jan’s bra and let it drop to the floor. She could tell she had caught Jan a bit off guard – normally the client would never undress the stripper. But it was clear Jan didn’t take issue, so she continued, kissing down her neck and chest, between her breasts, then teasingly swiping her tongue over both nipples. While she licked and sucked at her breasts, Nicky moved her hands back down, lightly snapping Jan’s panties against her and peeling them off once Jan lifted her hips up to let her.

It was so rare for Jan to be able to give up control at work. Her true submissive preferences were reserved exclusively for her personal life, lest anyone get the wrong idea. But Nicky had her under her thumb without even trying, and honestly, Jan found that even hotter. She wanted Nicky as badly as Nicky wanted her, and she didn’t make any attempt to hide it, going right to undressing Nicky once she was naked herself.

“So eager,” Nicky couldn’t help but call her out. “You must be so desperate to get fucked after teasing ugly men all night, hm?” She moved her hand between Jan’s thighs and traced her fingers along her slit. “You’re wet already, you little whore.” She then tapped her thigh lightly to redirect her. “On your knees,” she instructed, “you know what to do.”

Of course she did, Jan had just been eagerly awaiting her command. She got on her knees in front of Nicky, pulling her trousers and panties down to her ankles before situating herself between her thighs. She licked a stripe up her slit, then eased her tongue in, alternating between slow and fast, deep and shallow licks and thrusts.

Nicky tilted her head back and let out a deep moan. “Fuck, good girl,” she grunted. Her hand moved to the back of Jan’s head, holding her head in place with just a bit of firmness to keep her going.

Not that Jan would’ve stopped even if her life depended on it. Every time Nicky bucked her hips up or pushed down on her head, it turned her on and encouraged her all the more. Her hands gripped onto Nicky’s waist to hold her close and not let up until she was certain she had came, then pulled back with a bright, hopeful expression.

And Nicky knew exactly how to react, she could tell right away that Jan was the type that thrived on praise and positive reinforcement. “You did so well, babygirl,” she cooed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Get up and sit on my face, Mama’s gonna make you feel good.”

Jan nearly tripped over herself with how quickly she scrambled to her feet. She waited for Nicky to lay down on the couch before straddling her face and gripping the arm of the couch, then let out a breathy moan when she felt Nicky’s tongue inside her. “Fuck…”

Nicky held onto Jan’s ass as she thrust her tongue steadily. She smirked to herself when she heard how desperate and needy the younger woman’s moans were. This was not going to be their last encounter, that she was certain of, and by the time she had made Jan come, she was already thinking about the next time.

“Oh my fucking god,” Jan was still trembling when she got off of Nicky, sitting down to catch her breath. “Is that what French kissing really is?”

“I like to think so,” Nicky chuckled, sitting up and getting dressed. “Either way, that was just the welcome I had hoped for, and I will certainly be coming back for you. I’d take you home if I could.”

“Who’s to say you can’t?” Jan batted her lashes and twirled her hair around her finger.

——

“You know, with the way Nicky pounced on Jan, you might not be getting her back tonight,” Brooke warned. She was sitting in Jackie’s office with Vanessa sitting on her lap, though Vanessa had more or less checked out while Brooke and Jackie caught up.

Jackie laughed softly. “If I know Jan, and I tend to think I do, she won’t mind in the slightest,” she assured. “Though sometimes I worry you’re gonna keep bringing your friends in and pairing off all my girls.”

“What can I say? I’ve found my niche,” she hummed. “And it’s all good as long as you keep up those profit margins, right?”

“Oh god, are y’all just gonna talk business and shit all night?” Vanessa whined.

Brooke arched her brow at her girlfriend. “We’re not making you stay here, babe. You can go do a set or hang out in the dressing room,” she suggested. “You know, considering this is still your job,” she added.

“You can just get Kameron to babysit her,” Jackie remarked offhandedly, oblivious to the way Vanessa had suddenly tensed and sat upright or the way she was glaring a hole into her head.

And Brooke hadn’t picked up on it either, just coming off as confused. “Who’s Kameron? Another dancer?”

Vanessa had started to answer. “No, she ain’t nobody, she just-”

“She’s the new security guard,” Jackie explained. “I like her, she seems nice, really funny once she warms up to you, a little quiet otherwise.”

“Is she…you know…”

“Gay? Yeah, she a fitness dyke, I can tell,” Vanessa chimed in.

Jackie cleared her throat awkwardly. “I mean, I didn’t want to assume.”

Brooke arched her brow. “You, the woman who has managed to employ five lesbian strippers and two lesbian bartenders, didn’t want to assume? Like, you want us to believe that was purely coincidental and not your full intention?” While she had meant it lightheartedly, she noticed Jackie start to curl into herself. “Jackie… do you think we don’t know?”

Jackie swallowed thickly. “Vanjie, do you think you could give me a minute with Brooke?” she asked softly, then waited for Vanessa to leave before she redirected her attention to completely focus on Brooke. “I-I don’t know what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Brooke’s expression became more concerned. Her brows furrowed as she leaned closer and spoke in a hushed tone. “Do you… wait… are you not out?”

“Out of what?” she bristled, sitting upright and pointedly averting her gaze. “There’s nothing for me to be ‘out’ of. Because I’m not. I’m not.”

“Jackie…” she reached out and took her hand. She knew what a delicate subject this could be, but she also knew she would be remiss if she ignored it. “If there was ever a safe space…”

Jackie shook her head, suddenly getting up and pacing back and forth across the room. “You don’t understand. Firstly, my family, they… they just wouldn’t get it. They still think I own a restaurant.” She sighed heavily, finally stopping and leaning against her desk. “Besides, acknowledging my attraction to girls in a place like this… it’s just asking for trouble, you know? Priyanka is the only person that knows, and that’s just because she’s in the same boat.”

Brooke nodded as she listened. “But even still, Pri’s out to everyone here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Pri’s out to everyone here so she can fuck Lemon in peace,” she retorted with a dry laugh. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about… like I wouldn’t…”

“You’re afraid of catching feelings for one of the girls.”

“No,” Jackie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, everything she had spent so long burying was pushing through all at once. It made her feel dizzy and nauseous and faced with the realization that telling the truth was the only thing that could relieve that sense of unease. “I’m afraid I already have.”

[uas-fics]

Chapter 1 -Chapter 2 -Chapter 3

AO3

---

Chapter 2:

With only a little help from Mr. Rime, Leon made his way back to the training area three days after his first visit. Both he and his pokemon nearly skipped with excitement towards Piers. Perfecting their appeal performance had become a highlight of their evenings. With Mr. Rime's enthusiasm, Leon knew they had a fighting chance to win the contest.

"Good evening, everyone!" Leon called, waving his arm over his head.

Piers lifted his head in a curt nod to greet them. Skuntank yawned, still unimpressed with both Leon and Mr. Rime. Aegislash waved at his trainer but ignored Mr. Rime.

After Aegislash's night at Spikemuth, he was still upset that Mr. Rime would be in the contest and not him. He glared at Mr. Rime and refused to be in the same room when Leon took him home.

So Leon asked Piers if he would mind letting Aegislash stay a few extra days with him and Skuntank. Ten years of training his team taught Leon that Aegislash would forgive Mr. Rime or be tolerant of his presence in time. It wasn't so different from the time Haxorus and Seismatoad were at odds after Seismatoad accidentally flooding Haxorus' favorite napping spot.

Aegislash just needed a few days away.

As Leon neared Piers, something shook in the tree at the edge of the training area. He winced, praying it wasn't that skwovet Piers picked on earlier in the week. That little critter still chattered and lashed its tail when they walked past. The last thing Leon wanted was to knock out a weak pokemon for throwing berries at him.

With a ground-shaking thud, an obstagoon landed on his back. He blinked up a few times, dazed, before rolling onto all fours. Like a spring, he jumped up, landing next to Piers.

"Ah, so that's where you wandered off to." Piers patted Obstagoon's shoulder. "Should have known." To Leon, he explained, "When he was a wee zigzagoon, he used to climb up there for naps when he didn't want to train. I'd join him sometimes. I say we're a bit too big now."

In response, Obstagoon opened his jaws wide in a yawn. His long tongue curled. He smacked his lips. Piers simply nodded in understanding.

Piers and Obstogoon's closeness sparked a flame in Leon's chest. He wanted everyone to know what it's like to be friends with pokemon and fight alongside them. Everyone should have the opportunity to feel the connection and strength that only comes with befriending a pokemon.

"You're never too big for naps." Leon chuckled. "You two just need to find a bigger tree."

Piers ran his finger and thumb along his jawline in thought.

"That sqwovet had a pretty big tree." He smiled wickedly at Obstagoon. "How about we go see if we can make enough room for us in it?"

Slobber flew from Obstagoon's tongue as he nodded. He punched his fist into the palm of his other paw, his smile mimicking his trainer's.

Seeing the wince on Leon's face, Piers rolled his eyes. "I'm jokin'— mostly." He added the last word with a sideways glance at Obstagoon.

"Anyway," he walked around Leon, "let's stop wastin' time. How do you feel you and Mr. Rime's performance is goin'?"

Thankful for the change in topic, Leon put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. Mr. Rime mimicked him.

"Mr. Rime is a natural. You've seen how much we've improved. I think we can win." Leon crouched to put a hand on Mr. Rime's shoulder. Mr. Rime nodded in agreement. Aegislash scoffed, earning a glare from his teammate.

"You're confident in your performance stage, but what about the battle stage?" Piers smirked. "Let's see how confident you are against a proper opponent."

He tapped Leon on the back of the head as he strode past. Leon nearly fell forward, taking Mr. Rime with him.

"W-wait!" Leon scrambled to his feet. "Do you mean we get to battle now?" His heart skipped a beat. Contest performing might be new, but battling was old hat to Leon.

Piers snorted with a smile. "Arceus, you're like a puppy with battles, aren't you? Yeah, we're going to battle. Get to your side."

Leon hurried to his spot. His mind raced through what he knew about Piers and Skuntank. Skuntank was dark and poison, so he had a type advantage over Mr. Rime, but Piers announced his tactics. If Leon acted fast on Piers' announcements, he could easily counter.

In the last tournament, Piers used Skuntank to inflict toxic on the opponents. Mr. Rime would need to avoid that or risk putting an even tighter time limit on their battle.

He had to counter status with status--teeter dance, then. Confusion, and maybe he could paralyze Skuntank with a thunderbolt.

Piers put his hands on his hips. "This is a contest battle. The time limit is five minutes. We each start with ten points. Every failed move loses a point. If you impress the judges, I lose a point and vice versa. A knockout is an auto-win, but those are borin' as hell. Are you ready?"

"Bring it on," Leon called back. "You and Skuntank are going to lose—in style."

Piers scoffed. "Who said I was usin' Skuntank? Someone's gotta be our judge, and Skuntank has the most experience."

Skuntank trotted to a backpack beside the tree Obstagoon fell from. He rooted around in it. With a flip scoreboard in his mouth, he came back to the edge of the battlefield. He dropped and fiddled with it until both sides showed 10 before settling beside it.

Of course, Leon realized, that's why Piers brought Obstagoon with him, to use in battle.

Leon quickly readjusted his strategy for a fight with Obstagoon. Dark and normal, still a type advantage, but the toxic risk was gone. Obstruct, though, could be tricky to deal with if—-

"Let's rock, Aegislash!"

Leon's mouth fell open as his own Pokemon floated in front of his opponent. Aegislash tossed his shield up. He snatched it from the air in his sword form, ready to battle.

"Wait, but..."

"Aegislash spent some time practicin’ with Skuntank while they were together. He deserves to show off the work he's done, don't he?" Piers smirked at Leon's shocked expression. "What's wrong? Worried you'll lose? Well, you probably will."

Leon shook off his shock. "I don't think so. Aegislash is strong, but Mr. Rime and I know all his tricks."

Mr. Rime stamped his cane in agreement. This was no longer a matter of practice to him. Now, it was a matter of pride. Leon knew Mr. Rime would give it his all to show Aegislash he deserved to be in the contest.

Aegislash rolled his eye and Piers snorted.

"If that's what you wanna think, I 'ppose."

Piers took out his phone. He pressed a few buttons then whistled to Obstagoon. Obstagoon took the phone carefully in his paws. He jogged to Skuntank's side and set it in front of Skuntank. The two dark-types nodded to each other. Obstagoon raised his paw.

"Obs? Goon?" He looked between the combatants. "STA!" He threw his paw down, beginning the battle, as Skuntank pressed a button on the phone.

"We're going to cut you to ribbons!" Piers threw out his arm, his leg bouncing to an unheard rhythm. "Use air slash!"

Aegislash jumped into the air. With blinding speed, he repeatedly slashed an X until a ball of blue energy grew from the middle of the X. Aegislash jerked back then slammed the tip of his blade into the ball.

The air slash ball burst into spinning blades and raced towards Mr. Rime.

Mr. Rime danced back, expertly dodging the blades, except for one.

The blade slammed into Mr. Rime's shoulder. He stumbled but regained his balance with ease.

Skuntank flipped the scoreboard so it said 9 to 10.

"Mr. Rime, teeter dance! Confuse Aegislash!"

Leon winced. It felt wrong telling his pokemon to attack each other.

Mr. Rime tapped his heels together then wavered from side to side, spinning his cane hypnotically.

Aegislash tried to look away, but his gaze kept returning to the dance. Aegislash swayed side to side before tottering around, confused and lost as his trainer on Route 2.

Piers swore, "Shit! Aegislash, snap out of it! Shadow Sneak, like when you and Skuntank practiced!"

Aegislash wobbled to the left, then wobbled to the right, then flopped face down into the dirt.

Obstagoon laughed. Leon flinched. Piers groaned. Skuntank sighed.

9 to 9.

"Sorry, Aegislash, but Freeze-dry, Mr. Rime!"

Mr. Rime held his cane to the sky. Blue energy swirled into a ball at the top. With a flourish, Mr. Rime threw the ball at Aegislash.

An icy wind blew out from the collision, burning Leon's eyes and cheeks. A thin layer of frost coated the battlefield.

Aegislash shook. Shards of ice clung to his hilt. He attempted to push himself up, but his ribbony arms gave out on him.

9 - 8.

Mr. Rime bowed to Piers, the turn to bow to Leon. As he turned to bow to Skuntank and Obstagoon, Aegislash melted into his shadow.

Piers smirked. "Of course the undefeated champ's pokemon would be a bragger. Looks like we have to teach him how to lose. Like we practiced, Aegislash!"

Aegislash's shadow circled Mr. Rime. Mr. Rime jumped back, but the shadow circle kept under him no matter where he went.

Shadowy tendrils raised out of the circle. The ends of the tendrils divided into fingers. The hands waved in a mesmerizing dance of their own.

"Wow, he's gained a few new tricks," Leon muttered then shouted, "Uh, Mr. Rime, use thunderbolt! See if we can drive away that shadow!"

Before Mr. Rime could gather the electric energy for the thunderbolt, Aegislash burst from the ground behind Mr. Rime and slammed the edge of his shield into Mr. Rime's back.

"The dark is just as fast as the light," Piers remarked.

Skuntank hollered, stamping his paws. Obstagoon flipped the board, 7 to 8. Aegislash's move landed and was impressive. Piers had to tell Leon how he taught Aegislash to do that with his shadow sleek attack after the battle.

Mr. Rime rolled head over feet. He skidded on his stomach to a stop. With a groan, Mr. Rime pushed himself back up.

"Prepare to be pushed back into defeat!" Piers yelled, "Now, sacred sword!"

Aegislash's blade glowed with a mysterious energy. The blade doubled in size. With a clattering cry, Aegislash rushed at Mr. Rime.

Mr. Rime's eyes widened. He tried to move but fell to his knee with a wince.

The collision of the attack threw dust into the air, obscuring the trainers' view.

"Mr. Rime!" Leon cried.

His heart pounded. He heard Skuntank shouting, Obstagoon cheering at the power of the attack, and Piers calling out in approval, but he couldn't focus on them. His eyes straining, he tried to pick out Mr. Rime from the settling dust.

A shocked silence fell over the trainers and spectators.

Mr. Rime sat back on his rump, holding himself up with his arms. Between his legs was Aegislash stuck deep into the earth.

Aegislash struggled to push himself out of the ground to no avail.

Skuntank hurried to flip the score, but Leon didn't check the numbers. He couldn't risk letting this opportunity slip away.

"Mr. Rime! Shadow Ball!"

Shadow energy pooled in front of Mr. Rime's nose-like belly. Aegislash's eye widened. He braced his arms on the ground, trying and trying to pull himself out in time to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough.

The force of the shadow ball dislodged Aegislash. Spinning in the air, Aegislash flew across the field. He crashed to the ground. His shield rolled away out of reach.

Leon took a breath to order a second shadow ball when Obstagoon let out an ear-splitting cry. Behind the ringing in his ears, Leon faintly heard a beeping. Mr. Rime hobbled to his feet, glaring at Obstagoon. Aegislash flopped down, holding his arm over his eye.

Piers groaned and fell to his knees. He threw his head back and slumped his shoulders.

"Piers! Are you hurt? What's wrong?" Leon gasped, about to rush over.

Without moving from his dramatic pose, he lifted his arm and pointed. Leon followed his finger to the scoreboard.

7 - 6.

Leon won.

Besides the scoreboard, Obstagoon fiddled with Piers' beeping phone. With a huff, he marched over to his trainer and dropped the phone in his lap. Piers' head rolled forward. With a sigh, he turned off the alarm.

Leon walked over to Mr. Rime. He patted his back.

"You took that shadow sleek right on the chin," Leon squeezed his shoulder, "like a proper champ. Take a rest." Mr. Rime leaned against Leon's side as Leon took out his pokeball to return him.

Mr. Rime shook his head at his trainer. He pushed himself to his feet and slowly hobbled across the field. He picked up Aegislash's shield and brought it to his teammate.

"Rime, rime?" He asked, holding up the shield.

Aegislash lifted his arm to eye Mr. Rime, then slowly got up. Aegislash slowly took the shield back. He turned it over so it faced whatever way Aegislash considered upright. Mr. Rime held out his hand.

"Aegi. Aegislash," Aegislash said, shaking Mr. Rime's hand.

Leon smiled--The status quo of his team finally regained.

With each of their pokeballs in his hands, Leon asked, "Are you two ready for a rest? That battle was something to see. My heart pounded the whole five minutes. I'm proud of both of you."

Mr. Rime and Aegislash bowed, still holding hands, as Leon returned them to their balls.

"That was sickenly sweet display of affection," Piers remarked when Leon came towards him. "If Aegislash hadn't missed that last attack, we would have won. You got lucky."

"If that's what you want to think, I suppose." Leon laughed. "But that was a brilliant battle, Piers. When was the last time you and I had a battle?"

When he was champion, Leon battled all the gym leaders at some point or another, but he couldn't remember exactly when he and Piers had a battle last. In his defense, though, some gym leaders battled him more than others.

It felt like Rehain challenged him at least once a month. How many times had he been woken up at five in the morning by Bea banging at his flat's door challenging him? If Melony came close to beating him, Gordie would take a shot. Kabu, Nessa, Milo, Allister, Opal, Leon remembered his most recent battle with each of them, but his memory of his last battle with Piers was fuzzy.

Piers shrugged. "When did the My Little Ponyta movie come out?" At Leon’s bemused look, he explained, "Marnie dragged me to the premier the day before our battle. Had that fuckin' theme song stuck in my head all day."

Leon swallowed a laugh. He imagined Piers in a theatre showing a movie about the magic of teamwork and flying ponyta. Piers would tower over all the little kids. If he sat close to the front, children probably threw popcorn at him.

"I wasn't the only grown up there. The show is pretty popular with adults, too, you know." Piers rolled his eyes as if he could read Leon's mind.

"Of course," Leon placated. "I think I remember it now. It was close."

Piers smiled towards Obstagoon. "We nearly clobbered him. 'member that, Obstagoon? If Charizard hadn't Gigatanmax before you landed that hit, I'd be the champion right now and every child in Galar would have dollies of you."

His memory sharpened at Piers' comment. It hadn't been as close as he implied. Piers had only a half-beaten Leon's team and had a paralyzed Obstagoon left while Leon still had Charizard and Haxorus, and each was completely healthy.

Leon bit his tongue from correcting Piers. What did it matter? He had beaten four out of six of his team. Raihan didn't even get that far half the time. Besides, Leon didn't want to change Piers' cheerful expression as he reminisced with his partner. The pink flush of pride across Piers' pale face made Leon's heart skip in his chest.

"Do you want to have a rematch sometime?" Leon asked instead. "Not of our contest battle, but the first battle, err, the champion title battle, but without the title."

Piers raised an eyebrow. An amused expression crossed his face as if he just watched a growlithe puppy tumble over itself while chasing its tail.

Leon chuckled nervously. He hadn't meant to babble like that, but his tongue just kept tripping over itself.

"I mean, we could battle at the Battle Tower. Have you been there since it's been the Battle Tower? I'd be more than happy to give you a tour. I won't get lost there. I promise it'll be fun. What do you say?"

Piers' lips twitched upwards with a sharp snort of amusement. Leon's stomach tightened. Was Piers going to deny his offer?

"I'd be honored."

---

Piers whistled, craning his head to look at the Battle Tower.

"Battles are goin’ on every floor of this place?"

Leon bobbed his head. "More or less. Some floors are dedicated to research or resting up. It turned out better than I could have ever imagined."

"Impressive," Piers conceded. "Now, explain to me why you're dressed like a silver spoon aristocrat?"

Leon looked down at his outfit, a maroon double-breasted tailcoat, white undershirt, ascot, and dark trousers. The only clothing that wasn't professional was his hat.

"It's my business outfit," he stated simply. "I have to look professional as the league chairman."

He'd gotten reprimanded for wearing 'unprofessional' clothing when he started attending meetings as the chairman. He had several meetings earlier that day, so he had to have on his business outfit.

Piers opened his mouth, then slowly shut it with a shake of his head.

"Don't worry." Leon slapped Piers on the back, "You're not underdressed."

Piers glared. He straightened up and pulled on the hem of his leather jacket before readjusting the messenger bag strap across his chest.

"You are a wild card of a human bein’," he muttered. Louder, Piers said, "Let's head in. We have more to do today than just a tour."

Excited to show off the Battle Tower, Leon ushered Piers inside. The reception area of the Battle Tower bustled with activity. People and pokemon chatted and compared strategies. Two trainers argued over the best rental team at the rental counter. An abra played tag with a pichu under the careful watch of a clefable.

Leon's chest swelled with pride. The people of Galar would be the strongest in the world with the deepest bonds with their pokemon.

Piers tapped the heel of his thick-soled boot against the shiny tile. His gaze wandered the room.

Did he like it? Leon hoped he did.

"More lively than when it was the Rose Tower," Piers commented. "More useful too."

Leon released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Thanks. Come on, I'll show you--"

"Mr. Leon!"

Leon winced as one of the attendants of the Battle Tower rushed towards him. She doubled over, panting.

"We have a problem."

"What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Melony is here, and so is Mr. Gordie, and it's not going well," the attendant explained, wringing her hands together.

Leon wrinkled his nose. He'd thought Melony and Gordie were getting along now. They seemed to put their differences aside after the Darkest Day.

Before then, the two barely handled sharing gym leader responsibilities. More than once Rose had to go to the Circhester to settle an argument before an all-out battle broke out in the lobby of the stadium.

With no other choice, Leon told the attendant to lead the way.

"Sorry, Piers, you can wait--"

Piers strolled past him behind the attendant. When Leon caught up to them, Piers shrugged.

"You might need help when this goes," Piers put his closed fists together then flared out his fingers, "ka-boom."

---

"Seriously? Can't you drop it?"

"No, I cannot."

Gordie threw his hands up. Melony wagged a finger at him. The attendants of the tower pressed against the walls, eyes wide. One hid behind a pokemon recovery machine.

Shuckle wrapped his tentacles around Gordie's leg. Frosmoth tugged at Melony's hair. The tension in the air could choke a snorlax.

All in all, it wasn’t so bad.

Leon took a breath, bracing himself.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" Leon bellowed out, interrupting whatever Gordie was going to say. The attendants' faces lit up.

"Oh, Leon, dear, nothing is the trouble at all," Melony assured with a fake smile.

Gordie clenched his hands into fists. "There won't be trouble if you drop the matter."

Melony's smile fell to a frown. Frosmoth landed on her trainer to lower a wing in front of Melony's face. Shuckle dropped his full weight to the ground, attempting to stop Gordie from stepping forward.

Leon sent a question glance at the attendant that brought them up. The attendant shook her head with a shrug. She didn't know what they were fighting over.

Holding his hands up, Leon stepped between the gym leaders.

"Well, what's the matter? What is causing the trouble?" Leon asked.

Gordie tsked his tongue and scowled towards the wall. Melony waved back Frosmoth's wing, huffed, and looked towards the other wall. Neither answered.

Leon sighed. He couldn't force them to tell him what was the matter if it didn't involve their gym. Given their silence, it probably didn't.

From the door, Piers snorted loudly, gaining everyone's attention.

"If you're gonna fight over personal matters, do it at home, why don't you?" Piers rolled his eyes dramatically. "Or at least tell us what the fight's over so we can enjoy it properly. Just seein’ you bicker isn’t any fun at all."

Melony covered her mouth, a little ashamed. Gordie crossed his arms.

"You want to know? Fine! Mum is prying, like an old biddy." Gordie glared. Shuckle slipped into his shell and shook.

Melony gasped. "I am not prying! I deserve to know!"

"No, you don't!" Gordie snapped. "Who I'm seeing is my business, not yours!"

Leon's hands fell to his side. They were fighting about whom Gordie was dating? That wasn't something Leon wanted to deal with. Why couldn't it have been about the gym's paint color or whose name should go on the sign first? He could solve that problem. Personal matters like this were well out of his domain.

The attendants, still scared out of their wits, started to scoot along the walls towards the door. The one behind the recovery machine crawled on hands and knees.

"I just want to make sure she's not using you. You sometimes make bad decisions," Melony responded coldly, "like forgoing ice-types for stubborn pebbles."

Piers set a hand on Gordie's shoulder, stopping him from surging forward to confront his mother.

To Melony, he said, "Believe me, I am a supporter of cruel jabs, dark-types and all that, but I think you're takin’ this a bit far."

Thankful for the support, Leon agreed, "Yes. Piers is right. Gordie is an adult, after all."

"He a teenager!"

"I'm twenty!"

"You're still a child."

"I am not!"

"Just let me meet her!"

"No!"

Melony waved Frostmoth off her head. Frosmoth fluttered just above Melony, close enough to dive down again if she needed to.

The tension built. If Leon didn't do something soon, he might have a disaster on his hands. At least Mr. Rime and Aegislash could fight out their differences. Melony and Gordie couldn't--

"How about a bet?" Leon offered. "We are in the Battle Tower. You two battle it out. The bet is if Gordie wins, Melony, you have to leave him alone about his girlfriend for three months, or until he's ready to introduce you. If Melony wins, Gordie has to tell Melony his girlfriend's name and show her a picture." Melony started to oppose the idea, so Leon quickly added, “That way you can look her up on social media or ask people about her. You can see if she is up to your standards before you meet her.”

Gordie glowered but held out his hand. Melony took the offered hand and shook.

"Deal."

---

Eiscue flipper-slapped Shuckle's shell to no avail. One of Shuckle's tentacles whipped out and smacked Eiscue across the beak before hiding back in his shell.

Piers leaned back in his seat. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Leon lifted a shoulder. "It was better than letting them keep shouting like loudred."

"Guess so."

Melony recalled Eiscue, throwing out her Frostmoth. Frosmoth sent a blizzard at Shuckle, leaving him half-frozen with only two openings in his shell to attack from.

When Shuckle peeked out of one of the openings, Frosmoth hit him with a hurricane. The pillar of wind tossed a crying Shuckle into the air. The pillar vanished and Shuckle crashed to the ground. The ice encasing him shattered and freed him, but it didn't matter. Shuckle was out.

Leon leaned forward in his chair as Gordie sent his stonjournor.

As the battle raged, Leon couldn't help grow more excited. A smile spread across his face. Two top-tier opponents throwing their all at each other! It made his heart raced. Any other circumstance, he'd ask for a match with the winner right after the final bell. Maybe he could find a good excuse to visit Circhester and talk one or both of them into a battle.

While Charizard could melt any of Melony's ice-types, her Lapras was not only part water type but incredibly strong. One G-Max Resonance would cause problems for his team. He'd have to prepare with electric moves if he wanted to stand a chance.

Gordie liked to set up stealth rock, and that would hurt Charizard, but Aegislash proved how powerful his sacred sword could be. Gordie's Coalassol, though, knew fire moves. That could be a problem. Seismatoad, then, would be a good pokemon to have on the ready.

Leon nearly bounced in his seat as Melony and Gordie sent out their last pokemon. This was it, the climax of the battle.

Suddenly, Leon felt someone's eyes on him. He turned abruptly to the side to find Piers staring intently at him. The heat rose up his cheeks when they locked eyes.

"I like your enthusiasm," Piers commented with a half-smile. "It's earnest."

Unlike the last time, his tongue couldn't even make any words to trip over.

Piers raised his eyebrows as if he realized something. He opened his mouth but an explosion from the battlefield stole their attention from each other.

Melony's darmanitan fell backward, fainted. Gordie's tyranitar bellowed a victory shout.

Melony sighed as she returned her pokemon. Gordie ran to Tyranitar. Trainer and pokemon shared a high five.

"I knew you could do it," Gordie proclaimed. Tyranitar puffed out his chest. A slab of ice fell from his back. Tyranitar raised his tail and smacked the slab, shattering it. Gordie patted him on the shoulder with a wide grin.

"Gordie..." Melony straightened her back. She took a few careful steps closer.

Her son tensed.

"Gordie, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'll wait until you're ready to introduce me to your girlfriend. I won't pry into it anymore."

Gordie patted Tyranitar again. He looked at his pokemon then at his mother. Tyranitar rumbled reassuringly.

"I don't have a girlfriend. Alex isn't a girl. They're nonbinary. They work at a cafe, and maybe, sometime, I can take you there to meet them," Gordie offered. “Sometime. In the future. Not right now.”

Melony's eyes brighten. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. His glasses clattered to the ground, exposing his beet-red face. Tyranitar chuckled, picking up the glasses as his trainer struggled against his mother’s tight grip.

Leon let out a breath. That could have been much, much worse. He stood but didn’t go over to the mother and son. Gordie had his phone out, showing a picture to Melony. Melony cooed approvingly.

Leon wouldn’t dare interrupt the two finally getting along.

From his seat, Piers asked, “You ever jump through hoops like a trick ponyta? For a person you’re datin’, I mean. A girlfriend or whatever?” He fixed his icy blue eyes on him as if Leon was a puzzle Piers was trying to solve.

Leon’s stomach twisted. For someone with constant bags under his eyes, Piers had a nice face. Leon’s heart skipped. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about that since he noticed it during their contest training. The first day, after he’d wiped the sweat from his face, he noticed Piers looking at him intently, and the overwhelming urge to walk over and brush his fringe aside rose in him.

Luckily, Piers didn’t notice Leon tense. Unluckily, Piers turned his face away so his fringe hid his face from view.

Instead of looking into his eyes, Leon focused on a wall panel just beyond Piers’ face.

“No, I haven’t.” Leon’s tongue felt limp in his mouth.

“Huh. I had a few times. Nothing like battlin’ my mum, though." He turned his head with an aloof expression. The urge to brush his fringe back crept down Leon’s arm. He clasped his hands behind his back.

Leon swallowed, thankful his limp tongue didn't go down his throat. "Yeah, but I'm raring for a battle myself now."

"I can help you with that, but don't you owe me a tour first?"

Leon grinned. "Tour first, then a battle."

---

Leon laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly eleven and he hadn't left his blankets. His mind spun from the day before. After everything with Melony and Gordie, then the tour, he and Piers had no time for a battle, let alone the other plans they'd made to work on Leon's contest disguise.

Though Leon refused to admit it, it was for the best. With his luck, he would have fumbled calling out moves. He barely got through the tour without sounding like he'd been hit with a confuse ray.

When he was champion, he was too busy to focus on guys. He needed time for training his team: Haxorus' defenses to endure a dragon tail or Rypherior's speed to dodge a power whip. The time off he did have usually, he went to visit his family.

Dating ended up very low on the priorities list.

As chairman, he didn't have to constantly train his team every day--though he still trained more days than not. He more or less made his own hours and visited his family at least once a week, so he could date if he wanted. Nothing stopped him now--nothing but himself.

And Piers was an attractive guy in more ways than one. He was nice enough to help Leon with the contest. He cared about his sister. He had a great relationship with his pokemon. He was a strong battler, a good leader, and...

...he probably didn't know Leon was interested in him at all.

"Mixing politics and your career is a messy business," Rose warned Leon once when he was about thirteen. "I think it's best to keep your focus on training and let romance stay to the sidelines, hmm?"

At the time, Leon deferred to Rose's judgment. Rose was chairman and the person who sponsored him in the gym challenge, so he had to know what was proper for a champion.

That’s what he’d thought for nearly ten years.

After all that happened during the Darkest Day, Leon had been picking through all of Rose's advice to decide what was worth listening to, and as far as Leon could tell, that particular piece of advice could be flushed down the john.

Times had changed since he was a kid. Fewer and fewer people cared about who was gay or straight. Why keep himself a secret anymore?

Piers sure didn’t care who knew what he liked.

Once, Piers wandered into a gym leader meeting a half-hour late. To Rose's less than pleased inquiries on why he was late, Piers shrugged and replied in a deadpan, "Makin' out with my boyfriend sounded more interestin' that whatever you're going to ramble on about."

Two meetings later, Leon saw Piers kiss a lady square on the lips before heading in, leaving her swooning. He didn't much care what people thought of him and whom he dated.

Leon had to admit, he was a little jealous.

"Piers is so cool..." Blushing, Leon groaned. "I sound like a schoolboy. Arceus."

He should give Sonia a call. She knew more about dating and romance than he did. She'd been telling Leon since they were preteens that she would be his wing gal if he ever had a crush.

"You're a little too, you know," Sonia had spun her ponytail with her finger, "blockheaded in matters of the heart. You need my help. I bet you wouldn't even know what to do with a man if one threw himself at you."

"I would so!" Leon had retorted, sticking out his tongue. "I just don't have time. Some of us have important jobs to do."

Having grown into a still romantically blockheaded adult, Leon would one-hundred percent swallow his pride if Sonia would come to give him advice and help.

The door creaked open and Charizard poked his nose in. He tilted his head at Leon before wandering over. Leon patted Charizard's neck.

"I'm alright, don't fret." He sighed. "I just have a little crush on my contest teacher and he doesn't even know I'm gay. Even if he did, I don’t know if I’m brave enough to ask him on a date."

Charizard rumbled as Leon scratched his scales.

"Luckily, he's not supposed to be here until five tonight. I'll give Sonia a call," Leon continued. "I have plenty of time, after all."

From the bedside table, Leon's phone buzzed. Scratching Charizard with one hand, he picked up the phone with the other.

"open your door. let me in. i think your neighbors are gonna call the cops on me soon. :\" The text message from Piers read.

Leon jolted.

"What?" He gasped. Charizard craned his head to look at the screen as if it could explain his trainer's distress.

Swearing, Leon jumped to his feet. He darted past Charizard to the closet. Changing quickly, he then rushed out his flat door and down the steps. He threw open the door to find Piers fiddling with his messenger bag strap.

"You're here early," Leon leaned against the door frame, trying to look nonchalant.

"I figured you'd be awake." Piers pointed to Leon's feet. "Clearly not."

Pink dusted Leon's cheeks as he realized he wasn't wearing any shoes. He wiggled his toes.

"If you need me to come back, I--"

"No, no, it's fine, come on in." Leon gestured for Piers to follow him. Piers eyed him but followed without complaint.

Back in his kitchen, Leon filled the electric kettle. Piers rifled through his bag at the table. Charizard dropped his head on top of Leon's. He rumbled, attempting to comfort Leon's nerves.

"You allowed to have him in here?" Piers asked. "Open flame and all?"

Charizard huffed out a puff of smoke. Leon opened a drawer and took a lava cookie to wave in front of Charizard's nose. Charizard crossed his eyes at the cookie. Tenderly as possible, he bit the cookie in half.

"What the landlord doesn't know won't hurt her," Leon replied, nibbling on the remaining half. "Besides, Charizard hasn't set anything on fire in the house in nearly six years. Tea?"

Charizard lifted his head at the praise.

The last time Charizard accidentally set the drapes on fire, Leon put it out before much damage could be done. Having four fire extinguishers hidden around proved to be a wise decision.

"I had to pay off a landlord once to let Skuntank stay, and nah, I'm fine." Piers set a star-print zipper bag on the table. "Jokes on him, I would have let Skuntank out of his ball no matter what he said."

After Leon set a cup of steeping tea on the table, Piers grabbed his arm. From the zipper bag, he took out three small glass containers. He held one against Leon's arm and shook his head, then another.

"What are you doing?" Leon asked, trying not to focus too much on Piers' cool palm against his skin. His hands were calloused. Leon prayed the calluses were thick enough he couldn’t feel his pounding pulse.

"My foundation won't work for you, so I'm trying to figure out which of these will," Piers explained.

"Why won't it work?"

Piers looked up at him with a face that made Leon think he just asked if the sky was blue.

"I'm white, Leon," Piers deadpanned. "You're brown. My makeup will make you look like death."

"Oh, right, that makes sense." Leon didn't look Piers in the face. "My mistake. Ah, I'll pay you back?"

"No," Piers took the last bottle and held it against his arm, "I think I got lucky." Dropping Leon's arm, he held up two of the bottles. "I need one darker than your skin and one lighter."

"Really? That's interesting." Leon laughed a little too quickly. Behind him, Charizard snorted at him. It took all his willpower not to turn and acknowledge Charizard's mocking.

He took his cup of tea and sat across the table. Thankful for something in his hands, he took a sip. The tea burned his tongue, but he swallowed anyway. Charizard took a second lava cookie from the drawer — even though he knew he wasn't supposed to have more than one. He nibbled on it, watching his trainer make a fool of himself. His laughing eyes dared Leon to scold him for the second cookie.

"You're jumpy," Piers observed. "What's the matter?" A smirk crossed his face and he leaned across the table. "Got a lady friend hidin' in your closet?"

Leon nearly choked on his tea.

"What? No! No, no no!" He coughed into his hand. "I mean the only person who's ever been in a closet here was me."

Piers reacted with a slight lift of his eyebrows but his face remained the same otherwise. He took a few brushes from the zipper pouch without replying.

Leon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. That was the wrong thing to say, but it just slipped out. How'd he come out to his family? He just told them flat out, right? Hadn't most of them siad they already kind of knew? It wasn't this awkward, was it? He didn’t think so, but he couldn't remember clearly just then.

His brain spun with embarrassment.

"I know it's not a funny joke, but you're not going to ask about that?" Leon ventured. Charizard rolled his eyes and tossed his cookie into his jaws. Leon did glare at him this time.

After a moment, Piers looked up from organizing his makeup brushes. "No. Wasn't plannin' on it." He took a brush and spun it between his fingers. "In Spikemuth, you learn not to stick your nose in other people's business, unless you wanna lose your nose. " He looked to the side and mumbled, more to himself than to Leon, "‘Sides, you sounded like you didn’t mean to say it anyway."

"Oh." Leon chewed his lip. Charizard hid his face in his claws from second-hand embarrassment.

Piers tapped the brush against the tabletop. The steady rhythm filled the heavy silence between the two.

Leon wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't just out and say he wanted to ask Piers on a date. Well, maybe he could, but what would that make him look like? Piers would think he was desperate! Why couldn’t Piers have come later? Sonia would know what he should have done.

Piers broke the silence. "D’you want me to ask?"

Charizard sent him a thumbs up and a grin.

Leon blew up his fringe. He could do this. He could handle this. He was the Champion--the undefeated Champion--for nearly a decade. This was as easy as catching a rookidee compared to that. He could ask a man out on a date!

"I want to ask you on--"

Piers stood abruptly. He walked around the table to tower over Leon. He put his hand on the back of the chair, boxing Leon in. He took Leon's chin between his thumb and finger.

Lifting his chin, Piers smirked down at him. "D’you want to make a bet?"

"A bet?" Leon croaked, embarrassed by the cracking at the end. How badly had he messed up his date inquiry?! He should have consulted Sonia about all this.

"Yeah, a bet," Piers met his eyes. "The bet is if you place in the contest, I promise to take you on a date."

His heart pounded in his ears. "And if I don't?"

Piers dropped his chin. "Then you have to take me." He held out his hand. "Deal?"

Leon's smile nearly split his face. He took hold of Piers' hand.

"Deal."

---

"You look like a grade-A douchebag." Piers adjusted Leon's headband once more.

"I thought you said we were going with a 'hipster'?"

"Same thing far as I'm concerned."

They stood behind the Bellonea pokemon center after leaving the flying taxi that brought them.

Leon had to say Piers outdone himself with the disguise.

Piers brushed Leon’s fringe back, held them with a clip and headband then brushed back some of the top layers of Leon's hair back into a bun. He contoured Leon's face to look rounder and his nose narrower. White eyeliner made his eyes seem bigger, particularly when contrasted with dark lashes. Piers even added a touch of color in a light dusting of mauve to his eyelids.

He'd nearly talked Leon into colored contacts, but Leon could barely handle Piers coming close to his eyes with the eyeliner. The thought of having contacts on all day made him shudder. Instead, Piers found a pair of thin square glasses with dark frames and slipped them on his face.

Considering Leon's fashion was, as Piers put it, like a smeargle waltzed in and painted everything in different shades of clashing and tacky, it took more time finding an outfit than the entire makeup process. Finally, Piers settled on a striped button-up, vest, and slacks.

Leon took nearly two hours the next day to reorganize everything. Luckily, Sonia came to help, though most of her help ended up sitting on his bed teasing him.

“You should have told me you had a crush,” she had laughed, “then I could have been your wing gal like I promised. You really are a blockhead, sometimes, Leon. And why Piers? He's kind of... Why?"

He had thrown a plaid shirt at her in response, knowing too well he would how he would sound if he tried to explain his attraction.

Piers rubbed his chin. "I still think we should have done more with the beard."

Leon covered his facial hair protectively. He worked hard to grow it, and he refused to cut it off. Besides, Leon had a meeting the day before and the next day, and he couldn’t regrow it back overnight.

"No one will know it's me," Leon promised. He paused, coughed, and lowered his voice to repeat, "No one will know."

Piers sniffed, unimpressed with the vocal tone shift. He reached into his pocket and took out a plastic case.

"Lemme see Mr. Rime's pokeball."

Leon handed the ball to him.

"Still doin’ the lightnin’-ice thing?"

Leon nodded.

"Alright. This should work then."

Piers opened the case. He took out a clear, round ball with a line down the middle, then a sticker. He popped open the clear ball to set Mr. Rime's ball inside then stuck the sticker on the outside.

"Here you go." He handed back the ball.

"What is this?"

"That's a seal case and seal. I won them back in my contest days," Piers explained. "They're really popular in Sinnoh. When you throw out Mr. Rime, it'll be more interestin' than just a flash of light."

Leon turned the ball over in his hand. "Wow. Thank you. You want me to win this, don't you?"

“‘Course. I worked too hard trainin’ you for this for you to lose.” Piers shrugged. “‘Sides, there is a nice cafe in Spikemuth I wanna take you to on our date when you win.”

Leon grinned. He didn’t even care about the limited edition hat now. He had a better prize to aim for.

"Shii?"

From the side of the center, a shiinotic stared at them. It tilted its massive mushroom head to the side. Its expression remained blank until it held thin, viny fingers to its mouth. It smiled a little too broadly, giggling.

Piers shuddered. "I hate fairy-types." He waved his hands to shoo it away. "With dark-types, you can see if they're being mean or not in their eyes. Can't tell a lick with fairies. Little devils."

The shintonic's smile fell. It huffed, spun around, and marched off at Piers' comments.

Leon chuckled. Absentmindedly, he brushed Piers’ fringe back. Piers stiffened and Leon jerked back.

“Ah, sorry.” Leon laughed nervously, thankful for the privacy behind the center.

“No, it’s nothin’,” Piers lifted his hands placatingly, “but we should get goin’ towards the stadium. Why don’t you go first? I’ll wait a bit. I need to call Marnie about somethin’ anyway.”

Leon nodded. “Right. I’ll see you after the contest.”

Piers winked. “Good luck.”

----

----

AN: while writing this chapter I learned that we Americans call them ‘bangs’ instead of fringe because of a type of haircut for horses.

Etymology is so cool

[tidalsongprecure]

Tidal Song Precure! - Chapter 1

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Chapter One

A ripple in the waves! The heart of the sea, Cure Delphin!

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 “The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can’t.”

 Emotion is a complicated thing. There can be good, bad, and all sorts of in-between. Like the sea, there’s an ebb and flow to one’s feelings.

It’s what we do with those feelings that matter.

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Palm trees rippled in the wind, dancing in the briny breeze. The early rays of morn shone through the windows, welcoming her with its warmth. And blue...that endless blue. From the vivid hue of the skies to the constant ebb and flow of the sea, it was everywhere.  

 “You’re positive you didn’t forget anything Mom?”

The girl’s mother, Haya, eyed her through the rearview mirror. “You asked that back on the ferry Kyoko, yes we have everything . Now, relax! We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. After all, living on Yumeshima will mean more time together!”

 “I know, I know.” Sighing, Kyoko Koizumi leaned back into her seat. “I’m just checking! It’s not the first time you or Dad have forgotten something important…”

 “That’s a bit harsh Kyoko,” her father, Sora, chimed in. “Your mother and I are perfectly capable of keeping track of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“Right…�� Kyoko directed her attention to the glittering depths just outside her window, the blue in her eyes shining just as bright. “To think we get to live here...it’s incredible.”

“Yes, it’ll definitely be a change, but I’ve heard great things about this island! Studying the marine life here will be amazing…” Haya turned to face Kyoko, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m sorry this was so sudden, sweetheart, to pick up everything in Kirakono in a few months...”

 “It’s alright! Working here has a lot of great opportunities for you and Dad, so I don’t mind, honest!” Even with her reassurance, her mother still seemed worried, so she changed the subject. “H-have you heard anything else interesting about Yumeshima?”

“Well, your dad heard about some stories of miracles happening on Yumeshima I think?”

“Miracles? What do you mean?”

“Something about... strange creatures in the sea? He said he read about it in some article, but you know how he is. Believes everything he sees online.”

“It’s not like that!” Sora interrupted, Kyoko jolting in her seat. “There’ve been local stories and everything! You ask any of the locals and they’ll tell you!”

“I bet...Dad, watch the road!” 

“Oh!” The car swerved to the side, before skidding to a stop in front of a neighbourhood lined with cottages, the car swerved to the side. “Thanks, Kyoko. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably be in a hospital...”

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 Kyoko watched her parents and the movers file into their new home. It was pretty, she’d decided, with its white wooden walls and verdant vines trailing up the sides. It was positioned in the middle of the neighbourhood, and the dirt path next to the canal was smooth and fairly tidy. She stumbled out of the way as another worker bustled past, hefting a box nearly her size. 

“Looks like this may take a while…”

“Kyoko!” Her mother called her over, carrying a small lunch box.

“What is it? Do you need help moving stuff in?” Kyoko asked, stepping up onto the patio. The task looked a bit tedious, sure, but she wanted to be as helpful as possible. The sudden move was definitely more exhausting on her parents rather than her.

“What? No, no! I noticed you seemed a little bored so…” Haya pointed to the pathway leading into town, giving Kyoko’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Why don’t you explore for a bit? We were on the ferry for a while, and the car ride was a bit long too, so you must be itching to stretch your legs!”

 “Oh…uhm…” On one hand, exploring the island did sound tempting, and she was a bit stiff from all the travelling...but, she couldn’t. Her parents could definitely use her help and she didn’t want to leave them with all these boxes. That’d be wrong...wouldn't it? While she pondered this, muttering to herself, Haya slipped the container into her backpack -- complete with a dolphin keychain -- and gave her a gentle nudge.  

 “Quit worrying, sweetheart, go have fun! Leave the boring stuff to us adults.”

 “B-but…”

 Seeing she needed more encouragement, Haya added, “Think of it like...when you were little, and you went searching for those dolphins! It’ll be an adventure!” Of course, she had to bring that up. Cheeks burning, Kyoko rushed down the steps of the patio.

 “Alright, alright I’ll go! Just, please don’t mention that story!”

 “Yeah, yeah. Make sure to stick to the path! And be back by noon!”

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 “Why would Mom send me out here? Where should I even go?” Kyoko squinted at the map she’d downloaded earlier. “If I follow the path here, I should reach the town eventually…” After scrutinizing the map a little longer, she nodded and shoved her phone back into her bag. “May as well figure out my way around here, Mom and Dad won't be able to drive me around, so…”

 That’s right, she was fifteen now. She couldn’t rely on her parents anymore  -- not that she did , really, but it'd be best to be able to take care of herself, right? Her parents had always been busy with their work (marine biology was no joke), and as much as she loved how passionate they were, it did make spending time together a little difficult.

But it’s okay! Now that she was fifteen, she could really be independent. She’d start her final year of junior high in a few days, clean up around the house more, maybe get a job…

“They don’t have time to worry about me anymore.”

As Kyoko reached the town, she was greeted with the clean scent of brine. It wafted around her, removing any lingering fatigue from her body. The ocean has always had that effect on her, ever since she was little. A brief moment by the sea could instantly lift her spirits. So, instead of touring the town, she headed straight for the beach, kicking off her sneakers. Cautiously, she dipped her toes near the shoreline and allowed the water to wash over her. It was a bit chilly, but compared to the fervour of the sun, it was a pleasant contrast. The momentary peace was interrupted when a sudden flash appeared behind her.

“What was that?!” Grabbing her shoes and bag, she followed the flashes down the beach. The source of light came from a stony cave near the edge of the coast. By the time she’d neared the entrance, the light had faded. “The light came from here...I wonder where it leads.” Kyoko ran her hand over the rocky opening, about to enter when-

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

 She jumped, nearly smacking her head against the stone entrance. The shout had come from a girl behind her, fluffy blonde hair framing her face. Her light tan only served to highlight her sharp golden eyes even more, which were staring Kyoko down. She was barely taller, but she seemed to tower above her. Could demeanour really do that alone? After taking in her appearance, Kyoko concluded.

“Oh, wow, she’s gorgeous! But,  she looks pretty annoyed…”

“You DO know you’re not supposed to be in there right? Are you trying to get yourself hurt?!” 

 Maybe it was the heat, or simply the blonde girl’s intensity, but all the commotion made Kyoko’s head swim. “I, uhm, I think there’s been a misunderstanding I just…” she babbled out. By the high arch of the blonde’s brow, it was clear her words weren’t getting through.

Before the situation could escalate any further, another girl approached the blonde from behind, lightly tapping her shoulder. Her lilac tresses seemed to float down her back, and when she removed her sunglasses, purple eyes surrounded by thick lashes blinked curiously at them. Kyoko squirmed under the captivating gaze, shying away from the pair. Even her complexion was flawless and fair, seeming to glow under the sunlight. They were like...the sun and moon, she thought, with their unique radiance.

“She’s beautiful as well! What I’d give to look like that...”

“Emi, I heard shouting, is everything alright?” The girl finally noticed Kyoko and scanned her over. Kyoko braced herself, preparing for the worst but rather than berating, the girl smiled. The gentle gesture allowed Kyoko to relax a bit. “You don’t look familiar, are you new here?”

 “I-I am! I just moved here today, with my parents…”

The calmer girl whispered in Emi’s ear, who continued to scowl at Kyoko. After she’d finished, she turned back to Kyoko, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I’m really sorry about my friend here. She’s not mad at you, she was just worried.”

“I was NOT worried.” 

 “Right...anyway, it’s best if you stay clear of Eudora Cove. There have been erosion issues, so it’s not safe. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Eudora Cove?” Kyoko echoed. She pointed to the cave’s entrance, “Named after one of the Nereids from Greek mythology? Strange name for a place like this…”

“Weird name or not,” Emi added, scuffing her sandals against the sand. “We’ve always been told it’s dangerous as kids,” She refused to look Kyoko in the eye, and she pursed her lips in a penitent pout. “I assumed you knew, that’s all.” Emi turned back to her friend, “Yuyu, we should get going.”

 “Ah yes, we should be heading back,” she waved to Kyoko, “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll see you around?”

 Pink flooded Kyoko’s cheeks. “Yeah, see you…” Once the girls were out of earshot, she sighed. That certainly wasn’t the best first impression, but still, she definitely saw something . Why didn’t the other girls notice it? A part of her wanted to run away, to heed the girls’ advice but…

“I’ve got to know what that light was!”

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Thoroughly mortified but determined to see it through, Kyoko entered the cavern. Seashells and stones studded the stony walls, like stars on a clear night. Soft sand blanketed the floor of the cave, which was surprisingly clear of any tracks. “That’s strange...” 

“Your Highness, please! We don’t have time - zu!”

“I’m trying, but it’s hard!!”

Voices echoed from within the cave, and splashing could be heard further within. Following the noise, Kyoko was led to a clearing, in which a pool of cerulean shimmered. She hid behind a nearby rock, watching the commotion warily. Near the pool, she spotted a baby sea turtle facing the water. “That's weird, why would a sea turtle be here? It’s not with any other hatchlings, I hope it wasn’t abandoned...”

The pool’s waters began to gleam and bubble, green light filling the cavern. Kyoko shielded her eyes, and when the light faded, a girl came into view. Her long hair was the shade of sea glass, and pointed ears peaked out of her hair. She donned a gown of...seafoam? After brushing her hair out of her face, she attempted to stand up.

Attempted.

The girl wobbled, flailing like a fish out of water. When it appeared like she was about to gain her balance, she’d start to sway again. Kyoko’s stress swelled as she watched her. “Looks like she could use some help…” She stepped out from her hiding place, approaching the girl hesitantly. “Uh, excuse me? Do you need some help?”

The girl and the turtle turned to Kyoko, panic etched on their faces. Just as suddenly as she appeared, the girl dove back into the pool. As soon as she touched the water, the clearing was doused in light. As the light faded and bubbling died down, the turtle leapt onto Kyoko’s face.

It did what now?

Kyoko grasped onto the turtle’s shell, trying to pry her off. “I have the human Princess! Get away while you can - zu!” The sea turtle called. Even with her small flippers, her hold was surprisingly tight. 

“You can TALK ?!” Kyoko screeched -- to the best of her ability since the turtle was covering her mouth. She stumbled, scrambling to shake the creature off. Eventually, the turtle lost her grip and went spinning into the sand, finally landing on her shell. Kyoko scrambled to set her upright, then cupped her in her hands. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Put me down! Lemme go - zu! I will not be caught by a human, I refuse - zu!” The turtle protested, squirming wildly. To her ‘request’, Kyoko set the animal on the sand. While she did so, something else caught her eye. A ring of keys made from...coral sat next to the pool. There were an array of colours, from pearly white to ocean blue to sunshine yellow.

“These probably belong to that girl...speaking of, she hasn’t come up for air…” She knelt and leaned closer to the water. “Are you okay down there? You dropped your...keys?” Kyoko trailed off, stopping as a figure rose from the pool. It was the girl from before, only the dress she wore was gone. In its place was a light sea green top, and a slender, sea green tail in place of legs.

“A tail...instead...of legs….tail...no legs…does that mean?”

“You’re a...a mermaid!”

 The mermaid had her hands in front of her, outstretched in apprehension. Despite the attempt to sound commanding, her voice shook as she spoke. “P-put the keys down, Terra Dweller and step away from the water.” 

Kyoko did as she was told, following the directions in a haze. So much was happening, it was hard to process. All she could think about was the creature before her. She watched as the mermaid heaved herself onto the pool’s edge. “The Keys of Pontoporeia...I don’t think they’re damaged.” After taking the keys, the mermaid groaned before flopping onto the sand. “Azuuuure....don’t you have ANYTHING I can eat? I’m starving!”

“Not QUITE the reaction I was expecting.”

 The turtle, Azure, shuffled toward the mermaid with as much attitude as she could muster. “I’ve told you, Your Highness, I don’t have anything - zu. We left Azora in such a rush, food was the last thing on my mind - zu!”

“What?! But I’ve been swimming for days!” The mermaid whined, sinking into the sand again. In a huff,  she smacked her tail against the pool’s surface. “How am I supposed to shift if I have no strength?!”

“I think she’s uh, stomping her foot...or FIN I guess...”

“Uhm, if you’re hungry, I have some food I could share..?” Kyoko pulled out the container her mom had given her and popped the lid off. Inside were little sandwiches shaped like fish, with various fillings inside. “The taiyaki sandwiches we made, of course!”

 “Taiyaki?” They parrotted.

  Kyoko handed a sandwich to each of them. Warily, the mermaid sniffed it, gave it a lick, and then a tiny nibble. She stared the morsel down, before shoving the whole sandwich in her mouth. Kyoko could only gape as the mermaid scarfed it down, and turned to her with eyes filled with longing. She handed her another, settling down next to the pool. “I can’t believe mermaids are real… What are you doing here? Where did you come from? Are there more mermaids nearby? Ah- ” She caught herself mid-ramble. “I’m sorry for all the questions...it’s just so incredible!”

Polishing off her meal, the mermaid agreed, “I feel the same! I mean, I thought all Terra Dwellers - ah, HUMANS,  were just yucky pirates, but you’re really nice!”

“Oh! Uhm, thank you...?” 

 Giggling and splashing her fins happily, she raised her tail toward Kyoko in greeting, who shook it awkwardly. “My name is Odessa, it’s nice to meet you!” 

“I’m Kyoko, Kyoko Koizumi…”

 The sea turtle flew up and landed on Odessa’s shoulder. “Your Highness, if you’re going to introduce yourself, at least do so properly - zu!”

“Oh Azure, there’s no need to -”

 “Nonsense! No matter where you are, you’re still Azoran royalty - zu!” With Odessa rolling her eyes and Azure pointedly clearing her throat, she declared, “This is Her Highness, Princess Odessa Alagona of the First Pearl’s Boon, and you should address her as such - zu!”

“And Azure is being way too formal! Just Odessa is fine.”

“So not only are you a mermaid,” Kyoko began, “But a princess too?” Her dad had been right...for once. She’d felt that there was something weird about this island, and now she’d seen his ‘supposed miracle’ with her own eyes. She wanted to ask so much, but she didn’t want to frighten her again, so she started with one: “What are you doing here?”

“Princess, is it really wise to share so much with this Terra Dweller?” Azure asked. “You don’t know her very well - zu!”

“But...she seems really nice, maybe she can help us!” After positioning her tail comfortably, she began to explain, “My big sister, Meriella...she sent me here for my safety. You see, our home -- Azora Kingdom, it's in danger! A horrible wave of cursed ink spread throughout the sea, the palace was attacked, all to take the Cordis Shell…”

“The Cordis Shell? What’s that?”

“The purest source of sea magic. It’s, like, SUPER powerful. It was gifted to our kingdom eons ago but was taken away for safekeeping a few years back. Only the king and queen -- my parents -- know where it is, but they fled during the Shoal’s attack.” Odessa sighed, sadly swishing her tail in the water. “I just hope they’re okay. Meriella and the others too...I didn’t see all the damage, but I know that the Shoal is strong and won’t stop until they get their fins on the Shell!” 

 Cursed ink, magic shells, and mermaid royalty? That was….quite a bit to digest. Kyoko didn’t know where to start, but she could tell Odessa was sad at least. She patted the mermaid’s tail, her gaze filled with warmth. “That sounds terrifying...it must be hard to be so far from home, in an unfamiliar world like this.”

“It’s okay! Once I find the Precure, everything will be alright!” 

“Precure?”

Azure sighed, frowning deeply at the princess. “Your Highness, you’re not still going on about that, are you? They’re just a merfolk legend, a story for guppies! Those fictional heroes can’t help us - zu!”

“Yes, they CAN Azure!” She shouted with a smack of her tail. “They’re real, and once I find them, I can finally help the kingdom! Meriella, Syreni, even Kaliani won’t have to worry about me anymore! Gasping, Odessa turned to Kyoko, who had been quietly listening to her woes. “You! You could help me! If I’m going to find the Precure, I’ll need to go on land. Let’s look for them together!”

Looking for the Precure...it sounded important, something that couldn’t afford mistakes or errors. What if she made things worse for Odessa? She couldn’t take that risk, she’d been through so much already. “But, I don’t know the island very well. I just moved here, so...I’m DEFINITELY not the best for this.” 

“Oh...even so, just someone to help get my land legs! Please, Kyoko! You’re the only one who can! It’s gotta be you!”

“I’m really sorry, I wish I could help…but I can’t. You shouldn’t entrust me with something like this.” She gathered her things, trying to ignore Odessa’s pleas. Sliding her backpack on, she turned to the princess once more. “I have to go, I’m so sorry. But, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

It’s better this way...right?

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 Deep below the surface, within the Azoran seas, trouble was brewing. But not for those who feared them, but the members of the Shoal of Lament themselves. 

“What do you MEAN she escaped?!”

“Miss, it’s not our fault. That rotten crown princess sent her away before we could ask her anything.” Nerida explained, inspecting her slim, eellike tail. The mermaid had deep blue hair, and skin with a peculiar purple tint. After adjusting the gold jewelry she modelled, she pointed her fins toward her subordinate. “If you must blame anyone, blame Calypso. He spent so much time flaunting his Sirens, we missed our chance!”

The accused merman feigned a gasp. “How could I not?” His blue complexion allowed his green tentacles to glow in the darkness. “My Sirens had so much fun tearing up the city! You wound me, my love.”

“I am NOT your love.”

“It doesn’t matter now, the princess should be far from Azora at this point,” another merman added. He sported a mop of dirty blond hair and a tawny seahorse tail. “We should locate her right away. She’s the last member of the royal family, she must know of the Cordis Shell’s whereabouts.”

“My thoughts precisely. We don’t have time for all this squabbling!” another mermaid exclaimed, smacking her fist against the craggy wall behind her. Her navy blue tail was rough, fins firm and as frightening as a shark. She handed a ring of coral keys to their mistress, bowing. “Miss, I stole these from Princess Syreni. I know the royals use them to pass into other seas in the realm, perhaps we can use these to pursue the princess.”

“Excellent.” She held her hands over the keys, and with a small spell, the once radiant keys were dyed an inky black. “Take these Nerida, and find that minnow. Make her regret ever leaving the sea.”

“Of course Miss.”

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After today, she could never look at the ocean the same. 

How could she? A whole new world was under the surface, a world in danger, and she’d refused to help it. “I wonder how Odessa is...I hope she’s okay.” Kyoko muttered, looking out to sea from her balcony. She shivered a bit, the ocean breeze nipping at her skin.   

Unbeknownst to her, Haya had slipped into her room to say goodnight, but when her mother saw her, looking to the water with longing, she could sense something was up. Her mother joined her on the balcony, draping a blanket over Kyoko's shoulders. “It’s still early spring y’know? Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Oh, thanks.”

They took a moment to watch the sea, admiring its glistening surface, studded with moonlight. Kyoko’s gaze lingered, but she eventually turned to face her mother. “Mom? Could I ask you something?”

After getting a nod from her mother, she took a deep breath. “So...let’s say you have this friend right? And they really REALLY want your help with something. But this thing is SO important, that if you mess up a LOT of people could get hurt. So you say no, because this friend has gone through so much already, and the last thing they need is you making things worse! Uhm...that’s okay, right?”

Haya laughed, “That’s a big ‘something’ sweetie.” She returned her gaze to the water, deep in thought. “Does this friend trust you?”

Do they trust her? What kind of question is that? “I mean…I guess so. Why does that matter?”

“Well, I just think that if this friend trusts you, has confidence in you...then you should share in that trust, and have some confidence in yourself. I bet they believe in you for a reason, you just can’t see why...At least, that’s what my father used to tell me! You remember, don’t you Kyoko?”

Kyoko nodded, “Yes...Grandpa used to say that a lot…” Her grandfather, Ryūjin always made her feel like she could do anything…

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“Come on Kyoko! Just a little further!”

Kyoko looked over the boat, eyeing the dolphin warily. She reached out a hand, then retracted it, shaking. “I can’t do it! I’m too scared! What if I hurt it?” 

Ryujin smiled, taking Kyoko’s dainty hand in his calloused one. “You don’t know that for sure kiddo. I want you to try though, okay?”

“But…”

“Pretty please?”

“...Okay.” Trembling, she stretched out again and this time, the dolphin nuzzled against her palm, clicking happily. Kyoko gasped, staring at her hand in awe. “I...I did it! Grandpa, I did it!” 

Laughing, Ryujin scooped the little girl, hugging her tightly. “I knew you could kiddo! Just took a bit of courage, huh?”

“Mhmm!”

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 He’d always stressed the importance of helping others, he wouldn’t have wanted her to run away. He’d want her to face this. If not for herself, then for Odessa at least. 

“Mom I, uh...I need to go.”

“Now? But it’s dark and-”

“It’s important! I’ll be back soon, but...there’s something I need to do!”

“Something only I can do.”

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 As Kyoko ran back to the beach, she could see the sky darken and the waves thrash against the shore. It was like the sea was in distress, she thought, skidding to a stop in front of Eudora Cove. “Odessa? Are you there?” she called, but to no avail. “Where could she be?” Turning away from the coastal cavern, she noticed Azure squirming in the sand. She knelt next to the sprite, gently setting her upright. “Azure, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there! Is everything okay? Where’s Odessa?”

Azure pointed weakly to the water, “Over there-zu...but, it’s not safe.”

“Not safe? Why, what’s going on?”

Just then, Odessa burst out of the sea, scrambling to shore. Her tail and arms were littered with scrapes, and from her panicked expression, she seemed to be being...pursued? Soon after Odessa surfaced, another mermaid followed - one with peculiar purple pigmentation, and an aura so ominous it made Kyoko tremble.

“I told you Nerida, I don’t know where it is! Only my parents do, honestly!” Odessa spluttered, trembling as the mermaid drew near.  

“In that case,” Nerida snapped, holding her hand over the rough waters. “You’ll have to tell me where your parents are hiding, won’t you?” More creatures rose from the deep, each armed with an eel’s tail like their commander’s, along with webbed hands and fishy ears. Even with their snarling and hissing, their eyes appeared dismal and bleak. Two Sirens slithered onto land, each taking a hold of Odessa’s arms. Nerida joined them on the beach, pointing a bony finger at the young mermaid. “If you tell me now,” she sang, electric sparks dancing on her finger, “It’ll be less painful…”

Kyoko couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She had to do something ! Scanning the beach, she spotted a long, sturdy piece of driftwood. Snatching it up -- and without thought -- she charged the Sirens. Before they could react, she smacked each of them on the head. They roared in pain, releasing Odessa from their hold.

“Kyoko?! What are you doing here?”

“What I should’ve done before!”

“Well well, what’s this? A Terra Dweller?” Nerida drawled, smirking as Kyoko tried to drag Odessa away. She laughed harder as Kyoko stumbled, panting. “This doesn’t concern you, child. You’re even shaking! What do you think YOU can do?” 

 There really was no reason for Kyoko to do this. She knew that well enough. The whole situation was out of her control, and much bigger than her. But still…

But still…!

 “I...I don’t know what I can do to change this, but...I’d rather do something than nothing! I believe in myself that much, at least…”

With tears pricking her eyes, Kyoko braced herself, fearing for the fated blow…

Which never came.

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Kyoko didn’t notice when the world had melted away, all she saw now was an endless rosy hue. A few bubbles floated by her, and she reached out to touch one. It burst with the contact, dispersing into splashes of light. This world was so peaceful, she’d never felt more at ease. She floated along in this place, savouring the feeling. 

“Kyoko.” A voice called, one scarily similar to her own. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m...you! Sort of. You’ve taken the first step, and I couldn't be more proud of you.”

“The first step? The first step to what? What is this place?”

 “Don’t worry about that now, but take this. It’ll help you protect those you love.”

Another bubble floated before Kyoko, and when it burst, a necklace shone in its place. Kyoko held it, turning over the shell-shaped pendant in her hands. “But... what am I supposed to do with this?”

“You got here by believing in yourself, I’m sure you understand what comes next. Trust yourself, Kyoko, those feelings will carry you far…”

Despite the coyness of...herself, Kyoko acknowledged that she got here by believing in herself.  And that was something she hadn’t done in a long time…

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Kyoko held the shell close to her heart, calling out the words that would change her.

“Precure! Marine Reflection!”

The Lapis Locket popped open, and a flurry of pink fish burst out. She was bathed in a sea of light. When the light faded, she was floating in the ocean! But she wasn’t afraid, this was too incredible! She relished the moment, beaming as she reached a hand outward. As she outstretched her hand, the pod of fish returned, as if she’d summoned them.

“Would you mind helping me please?” Kyoko asked with a smile. They swam around different parts of her, starting with her ankles. A pair of pearly pink heels appeared on her feet, which Kyoko admired.

Next was her body. The fish spiralled around her hips, and a pink and blue skirt materialized with a loud pop. The same happened with her chest, and she donned a matching tube top. 

The fish swam to Kyoko’s head, lightly pecking her there. She couldn’t help giggling as they kissed her, laughter bubbling as she spun. Her hair began to glow and then grow. It brightened in hue, save for the blue ombré she now had. Bubbles weaved through one part of her hair, braiding and sealing it with a large seashell. 

As the pod swam away, one little fish lingered behind, planting a kiss on her cheek before departing. Returning the favour, Kyoko blew bubbles and kisses to the fish. The bubbles shone, turning into a ring of pearls on her neck as well as corresponding earrings. 

“The locket! I almost forgot!” With a wave of her finger, the Lapis Locket appeared, its string dissolved into seafoam and the shell glittering on her chest.

 She floated within a large pink oyster shell, and as it eased open, she struck a pose, declaring her new title. 

“ The heart of the sea! Making waves, Cure Delphin!”

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 Kyoko, rather, Cure Delphin hovered over the sand, before landing daintily. “This is really...me?” She examined her body, admiring the rosy glow she emitted and the overwhelming power surging through her. 

“I...I really did it! I found one of the Precure!” Odessa cheered, slapping her tail down with enthusiasm. “Azure, did you see? I told you they were real!”

Azure could only nod, her eyes wide. “Yes I... guess they are real-zu.” 

Nerida was equally shocked. How could a simple Terra Dweller, let alone a CHILD, become one of the warriors of merfolk legend? She didn't have time to mull it over, all that mattered was dealing with the nuisance before she could handle her powers. “Sirens! After her!”

Charging their tails, sparks bursting from the tips, the Sirens surged forward. Rather than applying the miraculous, magical abilities, she’d been blessed with, Delphin squeaked, and took off running. Azure and Odessa watched the ‘heroine’ scamper off, the Sirens slithering after her.

“Oh yes, what a legendary warrior - zu…”

“Hey! She’ll get the hang of it! I hope…”

The Sirens continued to chase Delphin, and soon she was surrounded. They inched closer, growling and gnashing their teeth. Adrenaline and fear overtook her, and in a desperate attempt to evade harm, she leapt into the air, just as the Sirens lunged for her.

While she was in the sky, Delphin blathered on, pulling at her hair. “This is crazy, this is totally crazy! What am I DOING?! How can I fight those… those THINGS when I can’t even control my - AH!”

Delphin shrieked as she plummeted to the ground, but in some twisted manner, managed to land upright. A plume of sand billowed from her landing, the dust clouding the beach. Delphin stumbled out of the cloud, shaking her head.

“Delphin!” Odessa shouted, rubbing the sand from her eyes. “Precure aren’t just strong! They have special powers too! If you want to beat the Sirens, you’ve gotta use those powers!”

“Even if you tell me that...” After clearing the sand from their vision, a horde of Sirens dove at her. Panicked, she flailed her arms, water bubbling from her hands as she did so. Just before they could touch her, the water rippling near her palms turned into a rushing wave. “Oh. So, that’s what you mean by powers,” she added, watching the wave crash onto the Sirens.

Brimming with self-confidence, Delphin engaged the marine monsters. Jumping to elude their talons, she dug her shimmery heel into one's head. Using that as a platform, she leapt off and rammed her fist into the sand. The force of her punch created another tidal wave, protecting her and sending the Sirens back with the swell. Delphin beamed, this was amazing! She’d never felt so powerful, it was so different from her usually spineless self. She felt confident! She felt strong!

She felt one of the Sirens whip her with its tail, sending her tumbling into the sand. Stinging discomfort shook her body, and she nearly heaved from the pain. 

“Okay Delphin, don’t get cocky now…There are too many to keep up this fight. I need to get rid of them all at once. But how?” 

As she peeled herself off the ground, her eyes fell onto the water before her. Despite the battle, the waves had continued their ebb and flow.

“Ocean...move…that’s it!”

“I hope this works…” Clasping her hands to her heart, she envisioned her powers like water: powerful like a tsunami, yet gentle as a babbling brook. Her mind was clear, and in a bold voice she called out...

“Precure...!”

Her Lapis Locket began to glow, dousing the sea in a roseate light. As she stretched out her arms, a pod of dolphins -- composed entirely of water-- swam next to her. Frolicking in a pink wave, the dolphins rushed past. One dolphin swam underneath, bumping into her and she tumbled onto its back. Now leading the fray, she pointed towards her target.

“Delphin Migration!”

With that declaration, the pod and wave engulfed the Sirens. Delphin cheered as her target was drenched, an endearing smile on her face. The creatures collapsed, impotent yet blissful. 

Delphin joined them, crumbling into the sand. A wave of seafoam washed over her, and she was Kyoko Koizumi once more. She touched the pink shell hanging from her neck, tracing her finger over its glossy surface. “This locket...I should probably hold onto it.”

Nerida, however, gaped at her Sirens in shock, appalled by their weakened state. Whatever that... Precure (oh, how she loathed saying that) did had rendered her minions powerless! What was she supposed to tell her mistress? Nerida snarled at the human girl, smirking as the Terra Dweller flinched. “This isn’t over, little human. I’ll be back for you and the princess.” Brandishing a set of coral keys  -- similar to Odessa’s, save for their inky black colour -- she snapped her fingers. The weary Sirens followed their superior, dragging themselves back to the sea. As they sank below the surface, Kyoko knew their return was inevitable; The fact alone made her tremble. What if today was just a fluke? Would she be able to do this again? What if-

Something damp touched her back, and she let out an unearthly shriek. She scrambled away, frantic but relaxed upon realization. It was only Odessa, her tail must’ve brushed against her back. Limpid tears dotted Odessa’s eyes, and a warbled smile was etched on her face. “Odessa? Are you alright-OH!” The mermaid leapt onto her, squeezing her tightly. 

“Kyoko, that was AMAZING! You were incredible! You were like...BAM...and SPLASH...and then WHOOSH!”

Azure followed suit, “I’ve never seen anything like that before -zu! Now Azora has a chance!” 

“Yeah! Everything’s going to be okay, thanks to Kyoko!”

Kyoko watched as Odessa and Azure cheered, admiring their innocent delight. Maybe she was a bit innocent too, thinking that she could do something like this. But, they believed in her.

Maybe that’s all she needed.

“I think....things will be alright. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”  

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Tidal Song Precure! Chapter Two Preview

As Odessa gets to know her saviour, her admiration for her grows, and she yearns to become a precure too. In order to prove herself, she decides to venture on land...alone. What adventures await her on the sandy streets of Yumeshima?

Next time on "Tidal Song Precure!": Azora's boon! The voice of the sea, Cure Lagoon!

[i-dentities]

Inside the penthouse (apartment? staging room? fancy business suite? Ada couldn’t care less), she sat in a barber’s chair and listened carefully to the operation debrief. Freshly showered, changed into active leggings and an olive colored tank top, the black dye lifted from her hair and replaced with a perfect bleach treatment, and a breakfast sandwich in her hand, she was feeling better than ever. Regardless of the pain that spread throughout her body with every breath. Maybe that was just the endorphin rush of success, but she didn’t mind. 

One of the hairstylists hovering around her tilted her head to the side for better access to the part where they were hand-weaving long blonde extensions into her hair. Ada set her sandwich down to open a compact mirror and check out the semi permanent tattoo developing on her shoulder, and she smiled softly. She’d had all the time in the world to come to terms with this situation at the DSO. This was her morning to enjoy a plan perfectly executed, and of course, her own freedom.

“Ms. Wong?” said one of the suits leading the debrief, drawing her attention back.

“Just Ada for now,” she replied amicably. “It is my retirement party, after all.”

“Of course, Ada. The Family wants to express our utmost gratitude. Your work was as flawless as ever, and we are aware and thankful of the levels of personal sacrifice you’ve made. We apologize again for the harm our… misallocated resources have caused you, and in return for all this and your discretion it’s our pleasure to orchestrate and protect your retirement.”

Ada nodded incrementally, just enough to make the hairstylists accidentally tug at her scalp. “This is a great opportunity. I’d have done it just for the money, but this relocation is above and beyond.”

“If you think it’s time,” said another operative, Fisher, who she’d worked with before, “let’s get you into character.”

A vanity was brought before her so that her extensions wouldn’t be fouled by moving, and Fisher and another operative stationed themselves at her side. “I’d do your face for you,” said the second guest, who introduced herself only as Lena, “but the Family needs to know you’ll be able to recreate it.” She set a bag full of makeup on the table. “You have a sense of where you’re going, let’s see it.”

It wasn’t a difficult look for Ada, although the concealer and foundation step took several minutes. A dusting of highlighter, dark contour, a deep, natural eyeshadow, soft eyebrows and fluffy eyelashes. Nearly-nude lips that she reshaped with liner to cover her cupid’s bow, a pinch of special effects putty to fill in the curve of her nose. As she worked, her hair was installed, cut, and styled.

“Aaand… done!” She announced at last, and pulled back to take in her reflection. Looking back at her through perfect curls and heavy lashes was, well. Certainly not Ada Wong-- a sight which brought a smile to her new face. 

“Looks beautiful.” Fisher declared. “This is going to be perfect for you.”

“You’re gorgeous,” the lead hairdresser agreed, fluffing her model’s hair proudly.

“What’s your name?” Lena asked.

She studied herself confidently in the mirror, taking a deep breath. “Delilah Kim.”

“And where are you from?”

“LA, duh. I moved away when I got married, but that was a waste of time so now I’m back with my divorce settlement. Ohio could never be the place for me, anyways. Beverly Hills or bust, right?”

Fisher and Lena shared a knowing smile and a nod, then Fisher gestured to two agents by the door. “We have someone you’ve been missing, Delilah.” One of the agents brought a rolling crate over to her chair as she got up, and she clapped her hands excitedly as she recognized the proud black cat inside, as well as her new collar tag.

“Visha!” she exclaimed. “Oh, baby girl, I did miss you. We’re gonna have a great time.”

“Don’t forget your ride,” said Lena, tossing her a set of keys. The civilian formerly known as Ada Wong grinned as she saw the Mercedes-Benz logo. “We’ll send your payment in installments over the next few weeks, marked as alimony.” Agent Spencer would help her get set up in the new convertible, pulling the top down for her so she wouldn’t reinjure herself, and she’d give him a friendly punch in the shoulder as she got in. Fisher passed her a pair of round designer sunglasses over the driver’s door, and she put them on before turning on the ignition.

As Delilah pulled onto Santa Monica Boulevard with nothing but an address and the cat carrier in her passenger seat, she tuned her radio to the first local station she could find, an upbeat 00’s pop-rock anthem blasting through the speakers, and shook her hair out of her face. Though her exhaustion was written across her face, her smile was exhilarated, and a hot desert breeze whipped across her skin. Tall palm trees rolled past on either side of the boulevard, quickly left in her dust. God, it was good to be alive. Speeding, sure, but not on the run. This certainly felt like freedom.

She eased off the gas, head bobbing to the music, just long enough to tap through her dashboard display to find the text message dictation screen. 

“Hey, pumpkin. Looks like you owe me a date.”

[caspian-skye]

The Apoptosis Project, Chapter 1: Darkness Returns.

IT’S HERE! I’m not releasing it on fanfiction until New Years Day, but I thought I’d do a little trial run on here first. I’ve put it under the read more because it’s long and I’d rather not clog your feed. Anyway, I’ve been drafting this since the Summer of 2016 and I’m SUPER passionate about it, so let me know what you think! Likes/Reblogs are much appreciated.

(Cover art of characters is by Stygmatus on here)

Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays!

On a clear night, sailors off Vale’s coast swore they could see the lights of Port Cyrreine from fifty miles away. A myriad of glimmering spires rose into the night sky. The rainbow of hues, from thousands of windows and holographic ads within the maze of skyscrapers, reflected in countless ripples upon the placid black waters off the city’s Southern shore. In front of the wall of light, a lively boardwalk; the vendors stands, restaurants, and crowds of people barely visible in the shadow of a ferris wheel lit bright blue for the night. From a distance, a muffled chorus of sirens could be heard.

Two airships jetted toward the city, the air in their wake tearing the water’s surface.

“Reports on the ground indicate an attack by the creatures of grimm,” a man’s voice scratched through the radio. “I repeat, eyewitnesses are reporting an attack by the creatures of grimm!”

“Grimm?!” Another voice repeated. “No way in hell, those things have been gone for, what? Thirty years now? You sure it’s not Sentinel’s animatronics?”

“We’ve established contact with Headmaster Skye of Sentinel. He was at the academy’s practice grounds when the incident began, and has confirmed all animatronics are in place,” a woman reported. 

“What do we know about the incident so far, then?”

“Just under a hundred port workers were laid off, and replaced with a couple dozen of Frontline’s organic androids. A peaceful protest turned violent when the Red Claw showed up. Right after that is when reports of grimm started coming in,” the woman replied.

“Griswold Baine has sent his son and a team of organds to help sort things out on the ground over there. ETA: less than five minutes,” the man on the radio concluded.

The two airships landed on a flat slab of concrete near the docks, lit by the shipyard cranes above. The door to one lifted to reveal a golden-haired warrior. His armor, fixed over a jet black bodysuit, was dozens of silvery white plates covering chest, shoulders, waist, hips, and legs; the edge of each plate gilded with a shining trim. His eyes were obscured by a knight-like visor, with a single light blue band to ensure vision. Behind him, a score of armored huntsmen.

“There have been reports of deaths in the area,” the man assessed. “All of you. Secure the entrances to each building. Search for survivors, and ensure their safety!”

“Yes, sir!” the huntsmen shouted in unison. They began to pour out onto the streets, save three.

“Desmond, Lavender, Nikole! You three are with me!”

“Yes, sir!” a broad-shouldered man, and two women confirmed.

The street before the huntsmen was a hellscape, far from the peaceful mundanity typical of the city’s port district. To each side of the street, flames leapt from shattered windows, dumpsters, and the hollowed-out remains of cars and shipping equipment. Smoke poured into the alleyways, shading the entire area an eerie shade of orange. 

The golden-haired warrior held his wrist out in front of him, projecting a holographic screen from his Holoband, a watch-like strap around his wrist. With two fingers, he zoomed in on a map of the area. A yellow marker indicated his position on the water’s edge. Several blocks away, a zone was highlighted a bright red. 

“Looks like the Red Claw’s taken control of a warehouse two blocks Northwest. Our mission is to clear them out, and secure the area. Move out!” 

“Midas! Look!” One of the huntsman’s allies interjected, pointing ahead.

He raised his head. Through the smoke, he could make out several black forms. Though on all fours, they stood nearly his height. Their claws scratched viciously at the pavement as they charged forward, their hungry snarls audible above the breaking of glass and crackling of flame.

“Beowolves.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Midas charged forward with Desmond, Lavender, and Nikole in tow. From his back he pulled a beautiful halberd, taller than he and crafted from the same steel as his armor. He plunged the tip of his weapon into the open jaws of the first beast, and flipped through the air. He flung the unfortunate grimm backward into a shield bash from Desmond, and brought the axe’s head down on the next beast as he landed. A pair of swift spins despatched two more grimm before he ducked, deflecting the swipe of another across the shaft of his weapon. Lavender, his teammate in purple, pounced with a pair of bladed tonfas.

The four continued on, clearing out a handful more grimm on the way to the warehouse. As Midas approached a corner, he held an arm out, indicating his teammates to stop. “The Red Claw’s stronghold is just ahead. Post up here, and defend my flank from grimm. I’ll be fine alone.”

The three filled into the street; Desmond in front, posted with his shield. Nikole and Lavender to his sides. Midas stepped forward. The smoke and uncanny glow of the main street grew more intense as he pressed on. From the fog came the scratching of countless feet, their claws impaling concrete with each heavy step.

A stark white pincer, as big as Midas himself, burst from the smoke. He held his weapon up to block the attack, but was forced backward by the power behind the strike. Another pincer attack was met with his weapon’s axehead, and forced into the ground. Two lines of beady red eyes glowed behind the pair of claws, and the creature scuttled into view. Its body was the length of a school bus, low to the ground and clad in bony spines for armor. The scorpion’s tail curled over its body, ending in a malicious golden stinger.

The deathstalker screamed with rage. Midas spun with the momentum of another blocked claw swipe, and thrust the tip of his halberd into the stinger as it bore down on him. He gripped his weapon’s handle as the beast hoisted him into the air.

He cracked a grin as the tip of his halberd unfolded, freeing him from the monster. His weapon’s shaft folded backward, until it had transformed into a bow. Still in mid-air, he pulled back on the string of hard-light dust. The vibrant arcs of electricity crackling around his body became one with the bolt of focused energy forming at his weapon, and he let fly. 

The deathstalker halted in sudden stiffness as the bolt shattered the armor at the back of its head, a shockwave rippling through the smoke. The beast’s tail uncurled and slammed to the ground next to the huntsman as he landed. It began to dissolve into the night.

The huntsman paused, eyes fixed ahead. He had only taken two labored breaths before two men leapt into view, blades prepared to kill. He swore, and electricity coarsed its way through his halberd just before he raised it to block a vicious overhead axe swing. Static worked its way down his enemy’s weapon. The faunus seized up, and Midas freed his weapon. Aura crackled around the assailant’s gut as the tip of Midas’s spear was thrust forward. Midas set his feet, once again transforming his weapon back into a bow. He let fly on his second enemy with a point-blank jolt of dust.  

The smoke began to clear. 

Two dozen feet ahead, a truck had been tipped onto its side, blocking most of the lane. On the edge of the trailer sat a bald-headed woman, clad in leather robes of black and white. As her eyes met his visor, a broad, serpentine tail pulled up from behind her, and settled in her lap.

“Red Claw commander!” Midas called. “Who are you working for? He’s here, isn’t he?!”

“And why would I tell you, prettyboy?” the commander mocked, her tail lashing once. “Although, by the way you asked that, you already know the answer.”

–

“C…. w..ke ..p,” a young woman’s voice faded in and out.

The morning light pouring in the window was far too bright. The plush bedcovers weighed the boy’s body down, sinking him deeper into his mattress. He groaned, and rolled over.

“Come on, get up. My breakfast is getting cold.”

“Go away, Lazula,” the boy mumbled, feebly shooing her away. He gathered his pillow in front of his eyes. 

“Lilly’s gonna be there…” the young woman teased, her voice softening. “Sleep much longer, and you won’t be able to shower.”

Lilly. Lilliane Corvis-Braun. The very image of beauty, kindness, and feminine grace, in the boy’s eyes. Sure, they had been friends for the longest time. She probably wouldn’t judge him for one morning of disheveled hair. But still. He couldn’t stand the thought of questionable hygiene on a day he would see her. He worked his way upright, shivering as the blankets fell to his waist. He turned to look at his sister with an exaggerated look of bitterness.

Though the two were twins, the young man and Lazula bore little resemblance. Lazula had inherited her father’s strong chin; dark, full brows; and long, straight nose. Her eye color was difficult to discern. Though mostly a green-heavy hazel, transient flecks of nearly every color seemed to come and go, by lighting and by the minute. Her hair, a vivid electric blue, was swept to one side in front, tied into a messy low bun in back. Caspian guessed she had snuck in some early-morning training. 

Between the young man’s soft, kind-looking face, large round eyes of a vivid blue, and button nose, he was quite obviously his mother’s child. His hair was coarse yet voluminous, falling in fluffy layers to eyebrow level in front, and chin level in back. His deep blue roots were visible at the crown of his head, but faded to silver further away.

“Good morning, Caspian. You slept for seven hours and thirty-seven minutes,” the automated voice of a woman reported from the headboard. “Would you like to see this morning’s top news stories?”

“Yes,” Lazula cut in. She nudged her brother as he began to doze off again.

A holographic screen flashed up across the foot of the bed, displaying an aerial view of a street near the docks. Between the stacks of shipping containers and open flames, three beowolves and a hulking, ursine form ran. “Darkness returns: eight are confirmed dead and fourteen have been wounded in a Port Cyrreine grimm attack overnight. Authorities confirm this is the first grimm attack in twenty-five years,” the voice stated. “Vytal Tournament champion Midas Baine was dispatched to the scene with his team and several organic androids, but was ultimately unsuccessful in apprehending the woman believed to be behind the attack.”

“Geez… Looks like Ichigo was right,” Caspian said, putting on the round lens, wire-framed glasses that rested against his bedside lamp. “He told me grimm were sighted, and I… well, was I supposed to just believe it?”

Lazula sighed. “Looks like this huntsman education will do us some good after all.” She stood, and walked to the door of Caspian’s room. She rested one hand on the doorknob and turned around. “We have to pass the entrance exam first. You should start getting ready.”

“Of course you’ll pass…” Caspian muttered, watching Lazula leave. He switched off the holographic screen, which had changed stories to show a bald, bearded man in a tailored suit giving a speech. After grabbing a bite to eat, throwing a few last-minute items into his suitcase, and grabbing  his pre-planned outfit of a blue knit sweater and khakis, he made his way to the shower.

The water scalded his back, but he paid no mind as it drained between his feet. “Today is the day,” he thought. He took a deep breath. The final entrance examination. His written scores, apparently, had been on par with the top percentage of Sentinel applicants. He scraped by the physical tests, but today… 

Every time he thought about it, it made him feel a little sick.

Caspian turned off the water. One typical morning routine later, and he opened the door, giving himself one last look in the mirror. Yet as he turned to the doorway, he started. 

His eyes locked with a colorless stare. Not silver, not even a light blue. Her irises  were entirely devoid of color. Her matching hair was styled neatly, bangs sweeping across her forehead and tucking under the locks that framed her doll-like face. Her hair in back tapered to a single point at the nape of her neck.

“Oh! Snow. Thank you, for the jumpscare,” Caspian said, grinning with embarrassment and holding a hand over his chest. 

Though Caspian’s heart was one beat from leaping out of his throat, the girl was entirely unperturbed. Her gaze followed him. “Your mother told me to tell you she would like to leave in twenty  minutes.” Her eyes cast downward, looking to the holoscreen she projected from the band at her wrist. “This was two minutes ago. Will you be ready in eighteen minutes?”

“Eighteen?” Caspian repeated. He pursed his lips, and grabbed several items from the bathroom counter. “I guess I’ll have to be. Oh, if you’re here, is Uncle Doug around?” he guessed.

“He’s working this morning. He said he will try to attend the Final Examination,” Snow said. Her voice was soft, hardly ever carrying much more strength than a whisper. Words followed each other in disengaged monotony. 

She turned, beginning to walk down the hall. Caspian admired her combat outfit, which she had already changed into. A snow white vest made of neoprene met her skirt at belt level, on which she holstered the handle of her weapon. The skirt was patterned into the interweaving fractal arms of a snowflake, layers underneath, visible in the gaps between the snowflake’s arms, a shade of light blue. She wore a collared shirt of the same shade beneath her vest, the tight sleeves coming down to her wrists. Black socks were the only hint of darkness to her outfit, starting at her knee and feeding into her glossy white boots.

The hum of the airship’s engines was all Caspian heard. It was the perfect background noise for his thoughts, all blending together into one monotonous drone. Snow sat beside him, her vacant gaze matching Caspian’s out the window. Lazula sat a few rows behind the pair, watching a video from her last tournament, playing and replaying to study each of her moves meticulously.

The city of Port Cyrreine was founded on two peninsulas, jutting out into the ocean like a massive pair of jaws. The Southern peninsula, further from the airship window, held the city’s downtown. Closer to the mainland, the skyscrapers tapered off into a maze of dingy mid-rise buildings, and area of town Caspian intended to avoid.

Toward the peninsula’s tip, a magnificent structure of glass and steel. The apexes of two black towers, one just half the height of the taller, skewered the sky. A golden ring circled the neck of the giant, holding an airship platform nearly a thousand feet above the ground below. A shell of smooth, silvery-white encased the Northern side of the structure, which loomed above the mouth of the bay. It was the Headquarters of Frontline Biomedical Technologies.

Snow’s eyes seemed intent on the building.

The Northern peninsula; the tract of land the airship carrying Caspian, Lazula, and Snow, descended over; was almost entirely residential. Frontline’s main hospital sat on the tip, directly North of corporate headquarters. 

“Perks of being the Headmaster’s kids,” Caspian noted, sticking a finger to the window and peering down. “We don’t have to sit in that.” 

Lazula appeared, leaning over Caspian’s seat and looking to the city below. Seacrest Bridge, the lone road between the two halves of Port Cyrreine, was packed bumper to bumper. 

“Lilly’s there, she said she’s with Rowan and Ichigo,” Lazula said. “Laurel’s on her way, but the traffic doesn’t look bad from the North. Still, I don’t envy whoever’s stuck in that mess.”

A few minutes passed, and Caspian looked away from the window and into his lap as the airship slowed to a stall. He felt it begin to descend upon a mile-wide cape that stuck into the bay from the city’s Northern half.

The campus of Sentinel Academy.

[sickandtideeeee]

By Bast - Chapter 12 (Erik x Reader)

A/N: the nice side effect of graduating is that I’m bored and can crank out a chapter in a day and a half apparently when before it took me like literal months to craft a few pages

Anyway, please talk to me i love interaction. Otherwise I’m just screaming into the abyss lmao

“How do you not have a dress picked out?!” Asha nearly shrieked, running her hands through your wardrobe.

You shot her a dirty look as if to ask ‘Really?’ She scrunched up her face in retort.

“Just two weeks ago the whole country taught King T’Challa was dead, so is it really shocking that maybe it slipped my mind that his birthday feast would still happen?”

“I mean you live in the inner palace. You would have had to have known!” She insisted, shooting a glance at Amina, who leaned against the wall of your bedroom, picking her fingernails. Amina continued to look disinterested, denying Asha the support she was looking for.

“I have a lot on my mind.” A truth.

“More important than the King?”

Amina’s sharp look at you screamed ‘Don’t answer that.’ You artfully dodged the question, by turning your attention to one of the many dresses your friend had laid on the bed for you.

“What do you think about this one?” The dress you smoothed across your front now was a flowing maxi dress in purple, red and orange-toned ankara print. The sweetheart neckline left your arms and shoulders bare, but they would be covered by draping a soft matching scarf. Suitable enough for a priestess.

“That’s the first one I grabbed.” Asha said, a little suspicious but delighted once you tried it on completely and twirled around once. Amina’s eyes lit up and you beamed back at her. You did feel pretty. All that was left would be to tame your coils. You decided on a goddess halo braid for the soiree. You had a few hours until the dinner party would begin.

For someone as poised as T’Challa, he had a knack for extravagance when he felt like it. Opulence was only one of the words that described the theme of the venue that night. Stepping into the birthday feast hall felt like trespassing the grounds of heaven itself. Warm lights shone from above, illuminating gold and marble fixtures as well as floral arrangements of lilies and orchids that were the size of a middle school child.

Rows and rows of lavishly decorated tables filled a room the size of a football field, piled high with cured meats, spiced stews, seasoned starchy side dishes, and enough fruit and desserts to land someone in an instant diabetic coma. Accoutrements were as loud and jovial as the people themselves, with your own floor-length dress paling in comparison to many of the tribe princesses’ dresses. Nakia herself sported a shimmering forest-green mermaid dress with golden highlights and a plunging neckline that warranted a second look from most, if not all, men in attendance. She stayed close to T’Challa who wore a classic brown tunic but of a material fine enough that you could almost smell the royalty from a distance. They sat at the table of honor, flanked by Queen Ramonda whose regal smile was almost oppressive in its sincerity, and Shuri who appeared frankly nauseated by the amount of boo loving she’d have to watch close up.

Idly stuffing your face with meat pies, you sat at the first table from theirs on the right side, pretending to be fascinated by one of the stone centerpieces. Live drum music played as a vibrant backdrop to the evening.

You had just fulfilled your one and only duty in leading the ceremonial prayer for longevity and blessing before everyone could partake in the meal. Now, it was best to keep a low profile. After T’Challa called you out personally just yesterday, you did not want to invite any unwanted conversation or attention. You found yourself scanning the sea of guests for N’Jadaka as if it were not obvious why he wasn’t present. Even more unsettling was the fact that during T’Challa’s speech, he was reduced to one of the many “challenges” that he had gone through in the past year.

Once all guests had been served their fill of food and fun, Nakia led an exquisite performance of a war dance. Thereafter, the rest of the guests were invited to dance. At this time, T’Challa was now surrounded by a circle of his elder advisors, who praised him on another year of age and a successful reign so far. Since you had declined joining the dance floor, you couldn’t help but quietly listen in while you attacked a scoop of imported cardamom ice cream.

“When do you plan to execute the traitor?”

Your spoon clattered as it dropped, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the crowd. The cold dessert slid down your throat unimpeded, causing you to choke softly.

So Erik wasn’t just talking…

You could see T’Challa answering, his expression betraying discomfort, but you had trouble reading his lips from your vantage point. Only bits and pieces of conversation came through as you tried to tune out the rest of the event.

“The longer he sits in that cell, the more likely you will have a change of heart.”

“Of course he cannot be changed, why would you even suggest something of the sort?”

“He has disgraced the royal family, has he not?”

“There is already intel leaving the palace suggesting that you have kept him prisoner because you are afraid to kill him.”

“Who cares if he is part of the royal family? He lost.”

The elders now began to talk over each other, rendering the rest of the conversation unintelligible.

It did not help that a stranger now blocked your view, introducing himself as head counsel to the merchant elder. You politely introduced yourself, smiling weakly. The young man, not getting the hint, began to chat you up. Trying to keep focus on T’Challa and his advisors, you circumvented questions like who did you come with, how were you liking the party, and were you interested in dancing?

In the meantime, the elders eventually dispersed, leaving T’Challa seated back at his head table alone with a grave look on his face. T’Challa’s expressions were as difficult to read as usual. How you wanted to question him on whatever decision he had just made, but on what pretext could you do it safelyl? As it was, you had already crossed a line with him.

No longer could you find any happiness in all this noise. It was past time for you to retreat in your quarter. The young man who had invited himself into the seat next to you finally realized that you had stopped listening.

“Are you mad? Do you not hear me talking?”

“I’m very sorry but I think I must leave now.” You replied, rising abruptly to your feet. You attempted to leave, but either your quick movement or your new male friend’s spite had resulted in the fabric of your long dress getting caught out. A large rippp sounded in the air, quickly smothered by music and voices, right before you tripped and toppled to the ground.

The man behind you made an audible ‘tch’ sound as you hit the floor hard on your face. Gathering the rest of your dress in your arms, you ignored the throbbing pain in your cheek. Yup, you had definitely enough of this party.

Before you could rise and give this stranger the tongue-lashing of his life, T’Challa was already by your side to help you up by the arm.

“Disappear.” You heard him say to your slighted suitor. “Are you alright?” T’Challa’s voice lost its edge as he turned his attention to you.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, embarrassed. Touching the pain on your cheek made you wince, it was sure to swell. You pulled your arm away harsher than you intended, and made your way out of the feast hall. To your dismay, the king followed suit.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” T’Challa said, louder now that you were out of the public view. In one of the corridors, you gave him a confused look. You could tell he was not just asking about your face.

“Yes…?” You insisted. Knowing he would not leave you alone until he heard a more satisfying answer, you added: “I was just a bit clumsier than usual.” You smiled widely, albeit a bit insincerely.

“I hope your party is to your liking! I know you had a hard year so it must be nice to relax and enjoy for once, is it not?” Maybe you were laying it on a little bit too thick. T’Challa raised an eyebrow and then let out an exasperated sigh.

“When will this stop?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said.

He sighed again loudly, then waved you away. “The good thing is that this will be over soon.” This last part was flippant. “Thank you for attending. I will see you around later.”

This will be over soon.

Is that how casually he was going to talk about ending a life?

“Kunkani.”

This time you were stopping him in his tracks. He turned his head to give you a curious look, taken aback by the sudden steel in your voice.

“What have you decided?” You queried.

He knew what you were talking about, and this angered him. It was his birthday, for goodness’ sake.

“I don’t need to discuss that with you.” He dismissed.

“What. Have. You. Decided?” You repeated again slowly. Your shoulders squared, and your chin lifted. You were trying so hard to portray strength. It would be almost laughable to someone like him, if not so infuriating.

This time T’Challa was visibly upset. He walked to you until he was mere inches away, and you could feel yourself wanting to shrink but decided to stand your ground.

Stand mighty. Hold your king accountable.

“You’re serious?” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening.

Yes, you are serious.

“I have to know. As someone who is tasked to guide you spiritually in the future. As the daughter of Zuri.”

He gave a laugh that was somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“When did you become so bold?” He asked, patting your head lightly. “From a girl so timid she could be bullied by a child half her age to challenging your king?”

When you’d been presented to the former King, Queen and son you had been about eleven years old, with no recollection of your life before then. T’Challa had looked at you curiously from afar in that time, and he continued to look at you that way even now. You were an amnesiac that his father had asked him to be gentle with. You later became his sister’s quiet peer mentor and companion. You were the high priest’s daughter. You were a girl whose brown skin reddened at his very smile, every time without fail. You were calm and serene. You were ever present but also blended in every room. You were somehow clumsy and elegant at once.

You never were this confrontational, this demanding. This was new.

T’Challa lowered his hand when your gaze remained fixed and unchanged. The patronizing gesture would not pacify you.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“My council has decided that he can’t be allowed to stay in prison.”

“So you will release him?”

No answer.

“You will exile him?”

No answer.

“You cannot kill him.” You warned. This interdiction apparently struck a nerve.

“I can do anything I want.” T’Challa quipped. “You seem to have trouble acknowledging who I am these days.”

“I know you can do anything you want to as the king of this nation. However, you are also tasked by Bast to be fair.” The muffled sound of distant music seemed to grow as loud as the distance between you at this moment. You had acknowledged this distance your whole life, a distance that T’Challa had rarely seemed to respect. However, today, for the first time it felt impassable, even for T’Challa.

“You are losing sight of your position in the palace. Perhaps I’ve been too kind to you.” T’Challa finally said, smoothing some imaginary wrinkles on his shirt. It was almost as if he were trying to smooth out his own behavior.

“Why would you save him if you planned to execute him anyway?”

T’Challa gave you an incredulous look. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“I’m going to leave now and we will pretend we never had this conversation.”

“There you are! What conversation?”

Nakia had suddenly arrived, her smile radiant but with eyes that betrayed concern. She linked an arm with T’Challa and nudged him slightly.

“I was wondering where you were,” she murmured, looking between him and then you. You bowed to her in greeting.

“I was just leaving,” you said, in a low voice. “Happy birthday, King T’Challa,” you said once more with a curtsy, before you parted ways. You could feel the stares burn holes in your backside as you walked away.

Tagging:  @syndrlla97 @iwantsomethingeternal @1killmonger @chasingsunlight @hoopshoney @destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @lalasparkles @pessimisfit @youreadthatright @stark-red19 @ruruly20 @bossyboyd03 @autumn242 @heybriheyyy @thelovelyliterary @muse-of-mbaku @bidibidibombaclaat @supersizemeplz @romanceoftheeveryday@chaneajoyyy@lildashofmelanin

[zombiejette]

RadioDust HCs:

ok kids. bc i have no chill yet no desire to clean these ramblings up into an actual fic, have some of my extremely self-indulgent hcs for this ship. this is gonna get long-winded and wild, so strap tf in.

General HCs:

Alastor is gray or demisexual. Meaning he is generally sex-repulsed until he becomes incredibly close to someone. This is pretty much my standard HC across the board for him, especially when I’m trying to ship him with Angel cuz lord knows there needs to be a middle ground between their sexual natures somewhere lol

Even after falling for someone, he still is fairly indifferent to sex, but he does enjoy eliciting reactions, especially from someone he knows well. And in the rare event that he cares for another, he does genuinely want to bring them pleasure. Therefore he sees sex more as an extension of this and is willing to participate to make his partner happy/is interested in creating their reactions

Likes to know he’s the only one to rile them up as well, part of his power kink

Alastor also has no idea what these identity terms mean either: is a clueless murderous old man

Angel is a tad more Woke™, especially after being in Hell for a while

Having younger generations of demon friends helps with this: Cherri or Vaggie being the ones to usually clue him in to more modern concepts

Drives Angel up a gd wall when he attempts to explain a modern invention/slang/pop culture reference to Alastor, who only digs his heels in with Not Understanding it just to piss him off more

Alastor not only does understand, but saves this fact for the times when he really wants to impress/screw with Angel, or when the knowledge comes in handy

He’ll never forget the look on Angel’s face when he casually informed him that the deer selfie filter is actually super offensive to him and would you please be a ‘deer’ and cease using it on insta thank you now there’s a love

Angel is now super paranoid that Alastor will see all his social media interactions somehow, despite him NOT having any accounts anywhere

Does not stop him from posting nsfw selfies and tagging them with #alastor/radiodemon in the least

Anemia HCs:

ok so i read somewhere that angel was anemic on the hazbin wiki info, or something?? i don’t know if that was real or not but uh... i took it and ran with it, so now it’s my hc, and this whooooole thing turned itself into a multi-part mini fic, which is all under the cut. if you’re dying of radiodust thirst like me, pls enjoy this mess.

Part One:

Angel is indeed anemic, and the first time Alastor finds out is when he literally passes out into his arms like a bad ‘Gone with the Wind’ parody

At first Alastor was disgusted, thinking this was yet another stupid ploy to hit on him... until he realized Angel wasn’t speaking anymore

Something that never happens

He wasn’t expecting to care, let alone lift the spider the rest of the way into his arms, carrying him to Charlie so she can figure this out

One second, Angel was fainting on him, the next, Alastor found himself sitting by his bed, placing a cool cloth over his brow and waiting for Charlie to get back with supplies

Almost like something out of those novels Mother used to think she had so cleverly hidden away

Hmm

Somehow, that thought alone was not enough to make him leave, so there he dutifully remained

Even as Angel woke up, groggy, yet giving him maybe the smallest, softest smile he’d ever seen the demon make

”Al... you stayed...”

Well that was certainly something. The way it made his pulse race quicker and palms sweat under his gloves was definitely new. And apparently enough to keep him sticking around through Charlie’s fussing and prodding and Angel’s consequent refusal of said mothering

Until Alastor remembered that anemic means lack of iron

iron like from meat

meat like from animals

and animal meat was his specialty!

Without another word, he left for the kitchen, only to return with a giant steak dinner (clearly bullied out of the staff in a rush), complete with mashed potatoes and vegetables and a large glass of orange juice

Literally everything Angel never eats

He refused to leave until it was all eaten, sitting back in his chair and bribing Angel with the offer to tell him a story as he finished it

And so he does, weaving a vivid tale just like back in his radio star days, complete with voices and hand gestures

Never before had Angel and Charlie ever seen Alastor quite this engaged in something that wasn’t murder or chaos; instead spinning a yarn about a boy and his magical pig who helps him to find his lost twin sister

Angel is quite enraptured, naturally, having to be prompted to keep eating a couple times, and Charlie hangs back by the doorway, absolutely beside herself internally at what’s unfolding before her

Vaggie would no doubt try to convince her otherwise later, and she may just be a princess of hell, but she knows love when she sees it dammit!

Eventually, she can sense the story’s end coming near, and as much as she wants to hear it, she wants their story to begin more, so she quietly slips away and leaves them alone

The tale indeed ends and Angel swallows the last of the drink, both quiet a moment, looking at each other

“…. Where’d ya hear that one Al?”

“Hear it?”

“Ya know, where’d you get it from? Some old fairy tale book? A movie? It’s real good and I know Molly would love that it’s basically just like us, so if ya tell me where to find it I can-“

“Nowhere. I made it up.”

“You made that up!!? Just now!?”

a small chuckle “Yes, that is what storytellers do…”

“… For me?”

Alastor pauses at that, regarding him again

“I suppose… Yes, yes that one was just for you. About you, really… with some… embellishments,” he twirls a hand nonchalantly in the air before returning it to the other in his lap “Either way I’ve never told it to anyone before, if that’s what you’re after.”

And there’s that smile again, the one that Angel never wore before today, and the one that Alastor would find himself chasing every day since, whether he realizes it or not

Part Two:

The only downside to this is now Alastor will not leave Angel alone about his iron intake

Constantly asking him if he’s had anything substantial today, pushing juices and vitamins and most of all meat onto him, sometimes holding him hostage to watch him eat it

Angel would be flattered if it didn’t interfere with his drug and alcohol habit so much

“Al, geez let up wouldya!? I’m already in Hell, why do I gotta be HELLthy too huh??” a smirk accompanied that, despite himself

the radio demon sighs “As much as I appreciate a well-timed pun, I must insist” he taps where Angel’s nose would be on a normal face “I’m already well aware that you’ll never be ‘healthy’, but I’d take conscious as a consolation prize.”

“Really?? YOU prefer me conscious??”

“Don’t flatter yourself-” he scoffed faintly “I have a hotel to endorse, and you are it’s prized resident, my opinions on the matter non-withstanding. I can’t very well have the famed Angel Dust dropping like a fly at a moment’s notice over such a small thing as malnutrition. What kind of operation would this look like if we couldn’t at least keep on top of something as simple as anemia, hmm?”

For once, Angel had nothing to return fire with, since the last time someone gave him such a convincing speech about his well-being was his sister right before his death, and he really didn’t feel like putting anyone through that agony again

Not even Alastor

After that, Angel takes whatever food Al gives him in annoyed silence, but he still takes it

Though it’s getting harder and harder to remain annoyed when what Alastor gives him starts increasing in quality

At first it’s swiped energy bars or simply juice, but then progresses to sandwiches and fruit and deviled eggs and little spinach quiches and tortes and assortments of cheeses that can’t be easy to procure down here, even with Alastor’s influence

If you cornered him, Angel would never admit it, but he actually forgot how much he missed real food after being inebriated constantly, and Al’s little treats become the new highlight of his day

He’ll even stop using some of the harder drugs so he can better taste them

Charlie would never tell them for fear of the whole thing stopping on an embarrassed dime, but she’s so so proud of them both for this little secret transaction

Angel does start looking and acting better as a result, even though he still abuses alcohol and softer drugs and def keeps his sexual nature intact

But he’s less irritable and prone to lashing out, and his coloring is brighter and his hair sleeker

He also isn’t as tired as often and hasn’t fainted at all since the first time, just feeling overall stronger and more lucid

Which he can’t really complain about even though he wants to

Part Three:

The hotel even benefits from this, some small press circulating about Angel’s newfound constitution and attributing it to their work

In celebration, one night Alastor invites him to a proper dinner at one of Hell’s most famous fancy restaurants

One where the press could easily find them if they wanted

Angel knows this is just to show off his progress but doesn’t shy away from it- for once excited to eat out somewhere and not “eat out” if ya know what I mean

Besides, Alastor doesn’t seem that perturbed to be seen in public with him either, a rare development and not one to scoff at

They both dress up nicer than normal for it, making a big show as the hotel’s representatives, even walking in arm-in-arm

Angel is not immune to the certain type of looks they get as they arrive, and wonders if he should tell Al

Seeing the man with one of his more casual and less murderous smiles on as they take their seats convinces him not to

It would be a shame to get their outfits all bloody anyway

Especially since Angel decided to return to his drag look for the evening, complete with a new skintight velvet dress, feeling far fancier all dolled up than in any of his menswear

The glances Al gives him from time to time don’t hurt either, eyes noticeably lingering on his exaggerated chest fluff each time

Something Angel has no problem with, leaning forward and accentuating it more, resting his chin on a hand lightly to prop his figure up

Alastor orders for the both of them since he knows the place better, raving about their veal and venison dishes on the way over

Earlier in the year, this might have unnerved Angel more, knowing the demon’s penchant for savagery and carnage when it came to “hunting”, but now? He found it almost charming, that Al was so invested in the meat selection of Hell’s dining establishments that he even made his own ranking system for the best places to get each type of animal, who better prepared it according to cuisine, and how each cut measured up in quality

Angel took the liberty of perusing their liquor selection to create his own ranking system, just to be fair

Would be impolite to let Al do all the work on this date after all

….. wait…..

Date???

The fork clattering to the floor jarred Angel back to his senses, realizing his elbow had slipped abruptly from its perch at the very thought, almost in an allergic reaction to the word

Al only raised a controlled eyebrow at the flustered way Angel ducked down to retrieve it under the table skirt

Which is of course the very moment the paparazzi decided to start snapping their pictures

Alastor quickly spun around at the flashing lights, smiling dangerously at them and stopping some of the more cowardly photographers, but not quite enough

Angel, oblivious, continued rooting around for the fork, all the while inching closer and closer towards Alastor’s seat

“Angel!” Al hissed, finally reaching under and putting a hand on Angel’s hair to still him. Of course not making this look any better. “Sit up. Now.”

“Wait, but I almost got it Al-ahh!”

He was roughly pulled up by the back of his dress and sat up, hair mussed and face flushed incriminatingly, only making Alastor groan in defeat at some more camera snaps

It took half a second, but Angel suddenly understood, face blank in momentary shock

Alastor fully expected him to turn it into another lewd joke, brush it off and dig the hole deeper, most certainly at the expense of his own comfort

He quickly steeled himself for the impending barrage of innuendos and unwanted touching

What he wasn’t prepared for was Angel to suddenly leave the table, storming right up to the cameramen with the angriest look he’d ever seen on the spider’s face

“Ey ya parasites!! Let me see those!” he holds a couple of impatient hands out for their cameras, still fuming

Some actually comply out of complete shock, not at all used to Angel Dust getting mad about being photographed ever, especially over anything sexual

Angel proceeds to delete the photos off the first camera… then gets more and more frustrated when the pictures just wouldn’t stop coming. After a while, he just smashes the camera on the ground in a huff

“Fuck this it’ll take too long!” he points to the remaining paparazzi with intact cameras, still shocked and clutching them “Y’all are gonna delete every SINGLE photo you took of that little misunderstanding just now, alright?? Or else I’m gonna keep smashing cameras! Got it??”

They all nod and start deleting hurriedly

“And if ANY a ya think about gettin’ wise and leaking some anyway… well… let’s just say I had a much more deadly occupation than porn star when I was alive…” his face darkens at that, putting on his best godfathers voice to hit it home “And I ain’t afraid a comin’ out of retirement temporarily… Capisce?”

They capisce

He returns to the table with a resigned sigh and combs through his wig to tame it again, taking out a compact to fix his face

Completely ignoring the stunned absence of a smile on Alastor’s

Eventually Angel dares to glance at it and gives him an involuntary cringe

“Ah... Sorry Al…” he starts slowly, stowing the compact away again in his bosom and looking down chagrined “I know I went and made a scene in your favorite place and… and yer probably real mad and all an’… oh damn, Charlie’s gonna kill me if you don’t firs-“

“-Thank you.”

“W.. wait what??”

“Thank you…” Alastor repeated, if only to assure himself he was really saying it “I… it was… I never expected you to get mad…”

“Al?”

“I thought you’d let them… run with it” he waves a hand, explaining himself, somewhat awkwardly “Especially since it… it would help you. Your reputation. To be caught with the radio demon like… like that.”

The way his voice became so small on the last two words worried Angel much more than he’ll ever admit. The way you could hear the mortification behind his smile. He always knew Al was adverse to the act but never had he seen him actually terrified by it. Paralyzed by the stark realization of how close he came to becoming its subject… even if only as a rumor

It simply emboldened Angel’s resolve

the spider scoffed lightly “Well yeah… maybe if that’s what we had been doin’… or if you were into that stuff at all…”

“What?”

“I mean we weren’t even actually tryin’! I was just lookin’ fer a dumb fork for cryin’ out loud-!“

“No… no what about… me being into it?”

a pause, and then a one-shouldered shrug “Well it’s not the same thing as a payin customer is it?… Like you don’ even LIKE sex and stuff and… it’s different when it’s just us flirtin’ and bullshittin’ around at the hotel… I know you hate that too but at least there no one ain’t tryin’ ya capitalize on yer pain. Word never gets out. No one knows just how much I get under yer skin, so it’s almost like it never happened. But these pictures…” he waved both of his right hands in unison, motioning for emphasis “They’re permanent.. and they’d only be helpin’ my reputation while hurtin’ yours…”

Alastor just continues to stare

“A-and the hotel’s… of course…”

Finally a smile returns to his face, but with no hint of anything except appreciation behind it

“Of course…”

Part Four:

The rest of dinner went smoothly

Al had indeed picked well, and the dishes were some of the best Angel had ever tasted, other than his Momma’s cooking of course

When Al made a small chuckle at even that joke, Angel knew he must’ve done something right to land this far in the radio demon’s good graces

Though it could very well be the booze’s doing

Angel had insisted on ordering their drinks to compensate for the fiasco earlier, and had created specialty cocktails for each of them, based on what they ate

He was relieved when Alastor gave a small hum of approval mid-sip, downing a generous amount with an easy smile

And then finishing off three more with dinner

Both were quite full and loose by the time they finished, even getting a small tray of beignets for desert

They found they hadn’t even argued once, save for small asides and joking prods. But really arguing? Hadn’t even crossed their minds. Instead they bonded over jazz artists they both liked, reminisced about the 30′s while filling each other in on the decades they missed, talked a bit about their hometowns, and threw some mutual shade about residents of the hotel they couldn’t stand

Turns out they had quite a lot in common…

They paid on the hotel’s tab and finally headed out to the limo, only swaying slightly and linking arms again to subtly stabilize each other

This time the paparazzi was nowhere in sight, probably long scared off by now

Which is good since Alastor had suddenly removed his arm from Angel’s to pull him in around the waist, keeping the demon from tripping over a nearby curb by pressing him further into his side. Out of reflex, entirely.

After all, it’s not like he’d ever willingly choose to close their proximity. Just like he’d never willingly choose to notice the way Angel’s chest bounced softly against his, or how four hands grasping onto him felt oddly right, or how tempting the velvet hugging the curve of Angel’s lower back became under his fingertips

He’d only occasionally felt this way about accidental invasions of personal space before, and that fact did nothing to reassure him or his nerves

Nor did the pounding of his undead heart in his ears

Angel was also feeling the tension, but for a whole ‘nother reason

Drinks always made him more forward, and having a full belly for once numbed that urge into more of a simmering lust, cozy and comfortable and heavy

Getting tangled up in Alastor’s arms suddenly only made him want one thing

One thing he was telling himself desperately not to do

Which was real hard with Al’s face so so close to his, looking back at him with his own flush dusting along his cheeks and that smile still there, but slightly parted, waiting, hesitant of what it wanted to become but open to suggestions

Suggestions that Angel had plenty of

“You… you were about to trip… my dear…” Alastor finally explained in a hush, dipping a finger into the still water between them and rippling it quietly, grip on him still firm

“…. Ah…” slowly Angel righted himself, not moving away from him, but leaning on him less “That…. that sounds like me…” he offered a lopsided grin at his own joke, daring to look Alastor in the eyes again

Looking for what exactly, he wasn’t sure

And guessed he would never find out, seeing the moment vanish underfoot with the crunch of the limo’s tires, pulling up beside them

Alastor still offered him his hand though, helping guide Angel inside first, then sliding in after

Sitting at least one person apart, the drive begins in unsteady silence, neither exactly looking away but definitely not trying to confront anything either

That is until Alastor starts to fidget with his bow tie, inexplicably feeling very warm

Deciding to simply undo it entirely and redo it looser, he starts it out like usual, but his fingers can’t seem to find their footing and keeps losing track of the last few steps

On the third try, Angel sighs dramatically beside him

“Honestly Al…”

And just like that, the spider is making use of his extra arms and tugging the whole mess loose again, faces mere inches apart as he concentrates and deftly reties it in a perfect bow, which gently hugs the base of Al’s throat as his adam’s apple bobs with a nervous kind of grace

It ends far too quickly and now there is nothing left to keep them in this close… nothing Alastor can invent to explain away how Angel’s fingers linger on the edges of the fabric, or how he wants to undo more of his clothing just for those hands to fix him up again

So he does the only logical thing he can think of

The kiss hits Angel with a sort of intensity he wasn’t expecting, feeling himself pulled in by two gloved hands on his bare shoulders, touch light but not unsure, desperate but without any urgency, simply grounding them together in this moment

Their lips moved against each other’s slowly, mounting in a gentle exploration with Angel deferring to Alastor’s lead, his lower set of hands lightly resting along Al’s hips, asking permission at first until a soft moan granted him it

Eyes fluttering closed, the kiss deepened until it became a series of many, some opened-mouthed, tongues hinting at entering but never actually doing so, and all of them amidst small noises and panting breaths, desire simmering just under the surface of it all

Angel had never kissed like this… never thought to kiss like this… the boiling heat of lust kept at bay by a promise to just make out, to just keep it at another’s pace. All the while flushing his body with a white hot pulsing want that could only wait for someone else to grant it release?? Oh he could die all over again from this torture and would only beg for more. Never getting it being it’s own bittersweet reward

Alastor grappling meanwhile with why he suddenly wanted so very much as well, why, as he clung to Angel’s soft fur-lined skin and let their mouths dance relentlessly, he never once wanted to pull away. Never wanted to run and hide in the solace and safety of the self, was all too happy to let Angel’s hands cup and hold his hips and reward him with moaning sounds he rarely ever makes

His head was swimming in it, and he was oddly eager to let himself drown

Eventually they parted, breathless and slow but mutual, eyes opening again and glossily gazing at the other, searching for silent signs of yes, no, more?, sorry?, good?

“A-Al… I..”

Fingertips graced the speaking lips to silence them again, a small shake of the head a confirmation of no apology needed. “… That was… I liked that…” He offered, smiling small and gentle for once, an acknowledgement of how very rare this had really been. How nothing about this was usual, but not necessarily unwanted

Angel was now convinced he’d died twice

“You… yeah?” he smiled back, just as hopeful

Another nod, Alastor chewing words behind his closed mouth, clearly processing something

“… I don’t… I don’t want you to get… too excited but…”

Angel surprised him with his patience

“… I have kissed before. I… actually more than that as well but...” he shakes his head to keep himself on track before he loses his nerve “It’s not often. And it’s definitely not for fun… not for just… anyone.”

Angel hopes to heaven his smile isn’t too excited

a small exhale before continuing “What I’m trying to say is…. I can’t guarantee anything. I cant... predict how I’ll feel about more… or about everything. But I can tell you that I liked this. And… I’d like to do this sometimes… with you. If you don’t push me for more…”

Two hands held Alastor’s close to his chest, squeezing them once with an earnest smile

“I promise Al. I promise I won’t push… at least I’ll really really try. I know I’m shitty at self-restraint and I won’t lie, I’m fuckin’ pent up as shit right now…” his small chuckle was met with a slightly sarcastic eyebrow, feigning momentary annoyance “But… but I really liked that too. I ain’t never… I ain’t never felt this good after just makin’ out! I didn’t know I could…”

Alastor hums a bit in amusement, hands traveling from Angel’s grip to slide gently down the sides of the velvet dress he’s poured into “Well… seems tonight was a good one for a lot of firsts…” he watched Angel’s small shiver with some glee “Though I might just blame it all on this devilish dress…”

a breathless chuckle “Oh yeah, Al? You like it that much?”

“Yes…” no hesitation as he strokes small circles into the fabric with his thumbs, just over the start of Angel’s hipbones “I’ve always been partial to velvet…. and pretty creatures wearing it…”

Their second kiss lasted all the way home

[emospritelet]

TLG 45: "Why does it look like it snowed in here?"

This prompt was sent before this was a fic and before it had a title XD

Anyway, chapter 7 is up, in which Belle gets her first look at the library, and Alice is hiding something.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

AO3 link

By the time they got back to the house, the clouds had covered the sun, and the first flakes of snow were beginning to fall.  Mrs Wolfe remarked over the weather as she took his coat, and Ogilvy could see Belle shiver a little as she took off her boots.

“There’s a fire lit in the library, sir,” said Mrs Wolfe.  “Shall I have some tea brought through?”

“Thank you.  Where’s Alice?”

She hesitated before answering.

“I believe she’s in the kitchen, sir.”

“In the kitchen?” he said, bewildered.  “What, did she decide to learn to cook?”

“I don’t believe so, sir.”

She didn’t elaborate, and he shook his head.

“Well, I wanted a word with Mrs Potts, anyway,” he said.  “Don’t worry about the tea, I can tell her myself.”

He nodded to Belle, who had taken off her hat and was patting her hair back into place, and headed to the kitchen, whereupon he stopped, frowning.  White powder covered the table and most of the floor, and Alice looked as though she had been buried in it up to her elbows. She was gazing at him with a stricken look on her face and a white smudge on her nose, her curls held back off her face with one of the kitchen maids’ caps.  There was a sharp scent of vinegar in the air, which Mrs Potts often used to clean things, and Ogilvy shook his head at the devastation.

“Why does it look like it snowed in here?” he asked.

“Oh!”  Alice looked vexed, dusting powder from her hands as she hurried over.  “You weren’t supposed to come in here! I’m helping the children to make sweets.  Which you don’t know about.”

“And the children are where, exactly?”

Alice hesitated.  There was a loud, protracted yowl from the scullery, and Ogilvy frowned.

“What on earth was that?”

“That was Ivy,” said Alice, after a pause.  “She burned her arm on an iron. Mrs Potts is tending to it.”

“Sounded like a cat.”

“Yeah, we keep telling her that,” said Alice, unconcerned.

“Bloody fleas!”

Mrs Potts’ aggrieved tone floated out from the scullery, and Ogilvy frowned as Alice sent him a disarming smile.

“Papa, wouldn’t you like some tea?” she asked sweetly.  “Why don’t you go and sit in the library and I’ll get Ivy to bring some out?”

“Well, as long as her arm’s alright,” he said, deciding that whatever secrets she was keeping, he didn’t especially want to know.  “Yes to the tea. I think Miss Marchland might join me. Where’s Doc?”

“Lying down in his room, I think,” she said.  “He said he had one of his headaches.”

There was another plaintive yowl from the scullery, and Alice’s eyes grew wide with feigned innocence.

“Right.”  Ogilvy shook his head.  “Please tell Mrs Potts that she can serve supper at seven this evening.  And remind her that we’re not expecting anything extravagant, just an informal meal.  She has enough to cope with preparing tomorrow’s dinner, and I’m sure they all want to go to church in the morning.”

“Can I go?” asked Alice.  “I thought I’d take the children.”

“You may go if you wish.”

“I’ll ask Miss Marchland if she wants to go.”  Alice hesitated. “Papa, do you think I might call her Belle?  I hate that we have to be so formal all the time.”

He hesitated.

“I think that would be up to her,” he said.  “She may not be comfortable with it, especially at this early stage.”

“I suppose.”  She looked disgruntled.  “She’s agreed to teach me etiquette.  I promise to try to learn all these silly rules, I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your fancy friends and acquaintances.”

“You could never do that,” he assured her.

“That sounds like a challenge,” she said pertly, and he grinned.

“The tea, then,” he said.  “And then you should all get cleaned up and see about getting that tree.  The snow’s coming down again and I don’t want poor Hatter to be dragging the thing back through drifts.”

“Alright.”

Ogilvy nodded, giving her one last, suspicious look before heading to the library.  Belle was already in there, gazing up at one of the shelves, a finger running along the spines of the novels that he kept there, and he stopped in the doorway, smiling as he watched her.  Light coming from the tall window highlighted her form, the curves of her figure in its neat blouse and skirt and the pale smoothness of her skin. Dust motes danced in the air, drifting like tiny sparks as her fingers bounced from one book to the next, her eyes scanning the titles on the spines.  She selected a book, pulling it from the shelf with the tip of a finger, and opened it up, gazing avidly at the pages. That lone strand of chestnut hair was still curled by her ear, and he wanted to walk up behind her and place a kiss there, to press his lips to the soft skin of her neck and breathe her in.  He pushed the feeling away, fearful that it would show in his face, in his eyes. Impossible as it was to completely hide his feelings, the last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.

Shaking his head, he pushed away from the doorway and made his entrance.  The fire was sending out a pleasant heat, almost too hot for the three-piece suit he was wearing, and Belle looked around with a smile as he approached her.  She slid the book back onto the shelf, turning to face him and folding her hands at her waist.

“I see you’ve found the novels,” he said.  “I swear there is some logic to the way in which the library is arranged, but sometimes it feels as though I’ve forgotten what that is.”

She giggled a little, a wry lift of one brow suggesting that she agreed with him.

“Then perhaps you ought to be my guide,” she suggested.

“With pleasure.”  He gestured to the shelves in front of her.  “As you’ve seen, the majority of novels can be found here.  There are children’s books in the little alcove next to us.”  He walked on, hearing her follow him with a rustle of skirts. “The two stacks here mainly contain volumes on history and politics.”

“I noticed the encyclopedias on the bottom shelves.”

“Yes, the set should be full.  Alice has a tendency to take one from time to time, and doesn’t always return them, so if one’s missing, just ask her.”  He walked on. “Classics are here. Atlases and natural history here. And over here we have the shelves devoted to scientific works.  I’ve tried to group them into subjects as much as I can but there’s some overlap, as you might expect. The astronomy texts are on the right hand side.”

Belle had stepped forward, bending at the knees to look them over.

“I shall have to study a map of the heavens before I use the telescope again,” she said.  “Perhaps you can test my recollection the next time the skies clear enough for us to look at the stars.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm.

“I’ve no doubt you’re an excellent scholar, Miss Marchland.”

“We shall see,” she said, straightening up.  “What’s through here?”

She had walked on ahead, around the corner that led to his study, and as he followed her she stopped in the doorway, making him step back before he could bump into her.

“That’s my study,” he explained.  “I really only use it for my business papers, or to think; the light in the main library is better so I tend to sit in there if reading anything substantial.”

“There’s a - a spinning wheel here,” she observed, sounding confused, and he smiled.

“Yes, it’s mine.”

Belle turned on her toes to face him, looking puzzled.

“Yours?” she said.  “You can spin?”

“Yes.”  He moved past her, rounding the spinning wheel and reaching up to trace the sweeping curve of it with the tips of his fingers.  “A - a hobby only.”

“A most unusual one,” she observed, and he smiled, eyes meeting hers.

“It’s not exactly something I share with those outside the family,” he said.  “They already think me somewhat eccentric.”

“Well, I must confess that when you said you had an interest in textiles, this wasn’t my first thought,” she remarked, and he smiled again.

“Something I learned as a child north of the border,” he said.  “I suppose it kept me out of mischief in those early years.”

“A useful skill, though,” she said.  “I had to learn piano. At least this has some practical application.”

“The pursuit of beauty is never time wasted,” he said, and Belle pursed her lips, looking amused.

“You haven’t heard me play,” she said teasingly, eyes gleaming.

“No, but perhaps you’d favour us with your talents this evening,” he said, and she smiled.

“I’d be delighted, but I warn you, I have no true talent.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It takes a great deal of practice and self-discipline,” she said.  “Unfortunately I always much preferred to be reading.”

She took a step closer, reaching out to touch the spinning wheel, her hand a fraction of an inch from his.  Fingertips traced delicately over the smooth wood, and her eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, clear blue pools ringed with dark lashes.

“Why do you spin?” she asked.

Her voice had lowered a little, its tone almost hushed, as though they were speaking of something secret.  Ogilvy traced the edge of the wheel with his fingertip, flashes of his past rippling through his mind, love and loss, joy and anguish.

“I like to watch the wheel,” he said quietly.  “Helps me remember.”

“Remember what?” she asked curiously, and he sighed.

“The things I need to be thankful for,” he said.  “And that no matter how dark life may seem, there is always the certainty of light returning, of a new dawn.”

“That seems a fine thing to remember,” she said softly, and he smiled a little.

“There’s a comfort in the repetitive motion, in the rhythmic turning of the wheel,” he said.  “I suppose it’s almost a meditative state.”

“I can understand that, I think.”

“I use it when I’m being particularly melancholy and irritating,” he added, and Belle giggled.

“Then if I ever see you using it, I’ll know not to disturb you.”

“No, please do,” he said quickly.  “Sometimes I let myself dwell on things I have no control over.  It’s annoyingly self-indulgent and I wholeheartedly give you permission to interrupt.”

Belle opened her mouth, but the sound of china clinking made them look back towards the fire.

“Ah, that sounds as though our tea is here,” he said, gesturing.  “Shall we?”

She smiled, ducking her head, and he followed her out to the library, where Ivy was setting a tray of tea things on the little table near the fire.

“Thank you, Ivy,” he said.  “I see Mrs Potts has made some of her excellent almond tarts.  Delicious.”

“Yes, sir.”  She set the dish of tarts next to the teapot and straightened up.  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“How is your arm?” he asked, and she frowned.

“My arm, sir?”

“Miss Alice said you burned yourself,” he prompted.

Ivy opened and closed her mouth, looking confused.

“Yes, sir.  I’m well, sir, thank you.”

“Good.”  Ogilvy decided not to bother thinking about what Alice was really up to.  “Well, thank you, Ivy. That’ll be all.”

“Yes, sir.”

She hurried off, and Belle took a seat, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

“Is the Professor joining us?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Alice said that he was complaining of a headache and has gone to lie down.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“He has a tendency to suffer from them, every now and then,” said Ogilvy, reaching out to pour the tea.  “He’ll be well by this evening, I’m sure of it.” And he may have some information.  That would be a relief.

He handed her a cup, and she nodded her thanks and added milk, accepting an almond tart from him.  Ogilvy poured his own tea and sat back in his chair.

“You mentioned that you wanted to take a trip into town,” he said.  “I need to go myself, so I thought we might take a cab, if you’ve no objection.”

Belle took a sip of her tea, setting the cup back in its saucer.

“Thank you, that would save me a walk.”

He took a bite of the tart, rich, buttery pastry and soft, chewy ground almond filling above Mrs Potts’ homemade raspberry jam.  Belle was tasting her own, and nodded approval. He dashed crumbs from his fingertips, picking up his cup.

“I have a few business matters to attend to in town,” he said.  “If you have an idea of how long you might be, we could arrange to meet to travel back.”

“Well, there’s a haberdasher’s I wish to visit, and a few other places,” she said.  “I should think a little over two hours in total.”

He nodded.

“Very well.  I’ll get Hatter to hail a cab once we’re ready.”

x

The trip into town took a little longer than she had expected, as the streets were crowded with hansom cabs and omnibuses, their occupants purchasing Christmas gifts, food and wine.  There were even motor cars on the streets, more than she could remember seeing, and it all made for something of a slow procession. Eventually the cab let them down outside the cathedral, and Ogilvy helped her out with a firm grip on her gloved hand.  Belle shook out her skirts, brushing them off, and thanked him. The air was bitingly cold, the wind whistling down the street and making her shiver, and Ogilvy gestured ahead of them.

“If you need me to accompany you, I’m more than willing,” he offered.

“Oh no,” she said quickly.  “You’re very kind, but it’s not necessary.  I don’t have far to go, and you have your own business to attend to.”

“Indeed.”  He glanced around.  “Well, shall we meet back here at three-thirty? That should get us back to the house in time for tea.”

She agreed readily, and he touched his hat to her, giving her a tiny bow before making his way across the street.  Belle went in the opposite direction, away from the more affluent part of town and into one that was still respectable, if somewhat more suited to her pocket.  She found the shop she was looking for easily; she had bought pre-worn items from the shopkeeper in the past, and Miss Darling always had excellent suggestions on how an item might be adjusted in the easiest or most flattering way.

Lady Ella had given her a generous severance payment, and as she had found work so quickly, and therefore had no need to live off the money, she saw no harm in spending some of it.  She purchased three dresses, along with some cheaper blouses and skirts for day wear, and arranged to have them sent to the house. She then went to the haberdashers for the purchase of ribbons, lace trimming and buttons, tucking the packages into her bag.  Christmas gifts were next on her list. It wasn’t proper to buy anything for her employers, as much as she might want to, and so she limited herself to buying something for each of the children, and small gifts of sweets, soap and handkerchiefs for the servants.

The snow was falling faster as she made her way back to the cathedral, and to her relief Ogilvy was already waiting for her, a tiny smile making his mouth quirk when he saw her moving through the crowd.  He stepped forward, reaching out to take the packages tucked under her arm.

“Excellent timing,” he said.  “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so,” she said.  “Just in time, too, from the look of the weather.”

“Indeed.”

He stepped forward to hail a passing cab, taking her gloved hand to help her inside before giving the driver directions and climbing in after her.  She took her packages from him, setting them on the seat beside her, and the cab set off with a jolt. Belle shivered a little, rearranging her skirts and smoothing them over her knees, pleased to be out of the cold wind.  Ogilvy sat opposite, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his handkerchief before putting them back on. He glanced across at her as the cab moved slowly along.

“Town was busy today.”

“Yes,” she agreed.  “It seems to get busier every year.”

“Did you spend much time here when you were in Lady Ella’s household?”

“Only during the season, really,” she said.  “And really only in the last year or two, before Lady Aurora came out.  She enjoys the parties, but gets a little fatigued by the end of July. We always headed back to Furton Grange before the grouse shoot.”

“Having attended many of those society gatherings I can understand her desire to leave,” he remarked, and she tilted her head a little, curious.

“Well, I never attended myself, of course,” she said.  “I’d hear all about it the next day. I - I wouldn’t have thought it was the sort of thing you would enjoy, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.”

He looked amused, his eyes glinting.

“Indeed not, but they serve their purpose,” he said.  “Allows one to see and be seen in the right places, as it were.  A tedious, but necessary inconvenience. Champagne helps.”

Belle giggled.

“That can be true of many things, I’m told.”

“When things are really dire I recommend whisky,” he said, and she bit her lip, amused.

The cab rattled on, the traffic easing somewhat as they cleared the main streets, and Belle shifted on the seat a little.  The cushions could use more padding, and she was thankful they didn’t have far to travel.

“I suspect Lady Ella misses her daughter,” said Ogilvy.  “Lord Deville spent most of his time in Italy, as I understand it, and Lady Aurora always was a comfort to her mother.”

“Her Ladyship has a new companion, a Miss Ursula Waters,” said Belle. “They seem to get along very well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

The cab jounced from side to side a little as it turned a corner, and Belle squeaked, grabbing for one of her packages as it tumbled from the seat. Ogilvy caught it first with an outstretched hand, and she almost fell into his lap as she overbalanced.  She found herself gazing into his eyes, the concern in them making her breath catch and her heart thump.

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry!” she gasped, putting a hand on his knee to push herself upright, and flinching back as though she had been burned.  “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s quite alright,” he assured her, taking her hand to give her some support as she sat back.  “These roads get worse every year. Are you well?”

Belle nodded, blushing a little as she took the package from him, and he glanced out of the window, giving her time to compose herself.  She felt her blush fade as she studied him. The silver hairs at his temples shone in the light, and the fine lines around his eyes gave him an expression of weary resignation.  She wondered what it was that had made him unhappy in life. Ivy had said he looked as though he had lost someone, and she thought she could see it now. Not a wife, though, for he had told her he had never married.  She found herself curious to know more about him, to know everything about this strange little family.

Ogilvy glanced around, smiling as he caught her eye, and his expression changed entirely to that of a man who couldn’t quite believe his luck.  It was strange indeed, and she was curious as to what it might mean. He sat back in his chair, nodding towards the window.

“We’re here,” he said.  “Time to see if Hatter let the children bully him into getting a twelve-foot monster or whether he stood firm.”

Belle returned his smile, and the cab drew to a halt.  Ogilvy got out first, reaching up to help her down as Hatter trotted down the front steps.  He paid the driver, giving him a curt nod, and the cab pulled away, Ogilvy offering his arm to Belle for support as they mounted the steps.  Hatter followed them into the house, closing the door behind them, and Belle set down her parcels and took off her hat, coat and boots, sighing in relief as the warmth of the house seeped into her.  Hatter had Ogilvy’s coat, and was handed his hat, gloves and scarf in turn

“How went the tree-purchasing expedition?” asked Ogilvy, and Hatter let out a grumbling breath.

“I managed to restrain the excitement of my young charges, sir,” he said gravely.  “The tree will fit in the living room with a little room to spare.”

“Excellent.”  Ogilvy showed his teeth.  “And the greenery?”

“It’s all awaiting your attention, sir,” he said.  “Miss Alice has distracted Miss Ava and Master Nicholas with a book, but I think they’re desperate to start hanging ornaments.”

“We’ll have tea first, I think,” he said, running a hand through his hair.  “When it’s dark we can decorate the tree and light the candles.”

“I’ll inform Mrs Potts that you’re ready, sir.”

“Good.  Miss Marchland?”  He turned back to her with a warm smile.  “Welcome to what I hope will be the first of many celebrations with this family.”

She returned his smile, following as he led her through to the living room.  I hope so, too.

[no6secretsanta]

Morning Light

For @asterrat.

It was times like this that Nezumi wondered how he ever left at all. Sure, he had to go in order to experience the world and learn about who he was without the all-consuming hatred for No. 6, but everything he learned seemed insignificant when he woke up face to face with Shion.

            Or maybe I appreciate it more because we were separated…

            Shion was fast asleep on Nezumi’s outstretched arm, and even though the tips of his fingers had transitioned from pins and needles to full on numbness, Nezumi did not attempt to move Shion’s head. Instead, he spent a full five minutes studying Shion’s eyelashes, which, although not remarkably long, were white, and honestly he had never quite gotten over Shion’s overnight makeover all those years ago.

His lashes overlaid the scar on his cheek like a fine dusting of frost. The sun peeking through the not-quite-closed slats in the blinds painted a pattern over his face, one bar falling to highlight Shion’s eyes so that his lashes seemed lighter and finer than ever.

Shion was beautiful. Nezumi wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore, even though he didn’t say it out loud as often as he thought it. He was working on it. It had only been five months since he had returned to No. 6, and only four since he worked up the courage to try being in Shion’s life again. Being close to someone, in any capacity, used to make him agitated, but for the first time in a long time, he felt peaceful.

Nezumi wanted to reach out and smooth Shion’s hair. He could feel its softness brushing up against his arm where Shion had found comfort in the crook of his elbow. He wanted to feel the gossamer strands between his fingers, to marvel at the texture and color against his weatherworn hands. But Nezumi was still new to this, and still a little embarrassed of the impulses that seized upon him when Shion was close.

Baby steps, Nezumi reminded himself, feeling a little pathetic for it. But this… This might be okay.

Nezumi gently extricated his free arm from the blankets, so as to not disturb Shion’s slumber, and ghosted his fingers over the side of Shion’s head. It felt taboo to touch something that soft. Nezumi didn’t have a lot of softness in his life, and he was trying his damnedest not to mess up the one chance offered to him.

Shion sighed through his nose, the puff of air tickling a bit and sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering through Nezumi’s stomach. Nezumi stifled a groan.

No doubt about it. I’m pathetic.

Shion stirred. Nezumi kept himself still as Shion’s eyes cracked open and gradually focused on him.

“Mm. Morning,” he murmured with a sleepy smile on his face.

“Good morning.”

Nezumi’s hand still rested on Shion’s hair, and at this point stealth was useless, so he gave up and ran his fingers fully through the strands. Shion hummed appreciatively and pulled the blanket up over his mouth.

“Have you been up long?” he asked through the fabric.

“Not really,” Nezumi lied, and took the opportunity to flex his fingers on the arm Shion was using as a pillow. His fingers were unresponsive, but the attempt was enough to clue Shion in. He lifted his head long enough to allow Nezumi to pull his arm in and try to massage some feeling back into it.

Shion’s brow creased in concern. “You should’ve woken me.”

“It’s fine. It’s only a little asleep.”

Shion’s eyes looked unconvinced.

“What are you doing anyway?” Nezumi asked. “Why is your face covered? You afraid I’m going to give you a good morning kiss?”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Nezumi forgot about his arm and frowned at Shion.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Shion said. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you, but I just woke up, and… you know…” He pulled the blanket farther up until it covered his nose and mumbled, “I have morning breath.”

“What? You do not. And even if you did, I’d already be over it—you’ve been breathing in my face for the last god knows how long.” Nezumi jerked the blanket away from Shion’s face and confiscated it under his reanimated arm.

Shion pouted at him. “I’m cold now.”

“Too bad. Your foolishness has lost you your blanket privileges.”

“You’re mean.”

“I’m always mean. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you so.”

“You’re not always mean…”

Shion squirmed his way across the space between them and buried his face in Nezumi’s chest. Nezumi tried to slow his heart rate by pretending it hadn’t sped up at all. Shion laid nestled up against him for a few seconds and then turned his head to peek up at him.

“Aren’t you going to give me that kiss?”

Nezumi’s heart had an inopportune seizure, which cost him the precious seconds needed to come up with a witty retort.

Shion smirked. Nezumi’s brain struggled to process.

Has Shion always been this forward? Nezumi didn’t hate it.

Of course all the extra processing once again robbed him of the opportunity to act in a timely manner, and Shion had sighed and turned his head back into Nezumi’s chest before Nezumi could make good on the kiss.

He scowled at himself and moved to at least put his arms around Shion, but Shion shot up in a sudden panic.

“What time is it?” he demanded and cast a horrified glance at the bedside clock. “It’s so late! Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

Shion scrambled to get out of bed, but Nezumi leaned forward and tugged him back down. Shion’s initial gasp of surprise quickly changed to irritability when Nezumi wrapped his arms around his torso and hugged him to his chest. He hooked his legs over Shion’s for good measure. Shion struggled ineffectively against his hold.

“Nezumi, stop. Let go. I have a meeting today, I’m going to be late.”

“Yes, you are. In fact, you’re not going. I turned your alarm off for a reason.”

Shion went still. He craned his neck and Nezumi gave him enough leeway to twist around. “You turned off my alarm?”

The look of betrayal on his face almost made Nezumi second-guess himself, but he found his resolve and forged on. “Yes, I did. It’s Sunday, Shion. You shouldn’t have meetings on Sundays—no one should.”

Shion groaned. “This is important, Nezumi. The year’s almost over—if we don’t finalize the initiatives now, we’ll be starting the New Year behind the curve.”

“There are twenty-three other people on the Committee; I’m sure they can figure it out even if you’re not there. You’ve already pulled overtime every day this week, you don’t need work eating up your weekend too.”

“Nezumi…”

Shion wriggled again in his grasp, but his attempt was less insistent than before. Nezumi was thankful for that, because if Shion had continued to be irritated, he wasn’t sure he would have the courage to get this next part out.

“I miss you,” he muttered against Shion’s shoulder.

Shion stopped trying to escape. Nezumi pulled him tighter to his chest, half to impress upon him the magnitude of the words, and half to feel in control of something, because he certainly wasn’t in control of his feelings.

Nezumi could feel Shion’s gaze like a burn on the side if his face, but he wasn’t able to meet his eyes. He felt physically ill after admitting that one stupid thing—how did Shion manage to say the things he did and not turn into a self-conscious mess? He had to talk himself down from playing it off as a joke every second that passed between them and Shion just stared and didn’t say anything.

Why isn’t he responding? A bead of sweat slipped down his back. Great. This is really attractive. I hate myself.

“Nezumi?”

Nezumi’s stomach clenched, but the softness in Shion’s voice helped him remember how to move. He looked up and averted his gaze immediately; Shion’s dark eyes were too blinding to bear at the moment.

“Let me get my phone. Okay?”

Nezumi let him go. If his admission hadn’t convinced Shion to stay home then there was no point in holding on.

Shion crawled across the bed and pulled his phone from the bedside table. “Torey?” he said into the phone. “Yes, hello. About the meeting today…”

He paused and Nezumi hazarded a look at him from where he had fortified himself in the blankets. Shion caught his look and smiled.

“I’m not coming,” Shion finished.

He paused as Torey responded. The other man was quite concerned if the frantic buzz on the other end of the line was any indicator.

“No, I’m fine,” Shion said. “I’m just not coming today. Please tell everyone that I’ll review the proposals tomorrow, first thing in the morning. And do me favor? Don’t let Anzu bully everyone into choosing her plans. It’s a committee, not a monopoly.”

Shion listened for another few seconds, thanked Torey, and hung up. Nezumi felt warm and excited when Shion crawled back across the bed and sat at his side.

“I’m sorry, Nezumi,” Shion said. “I haven’t been around much, have I?”

Nezumi shrugged a shoulder. “I’m partly to blame. I did tell you to do the job. I just didn’t think you would become the job.” He narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness.

Shion grinned. “I’ll be more careful in the future. I forgot how much attention you need.”

Nezumi scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shion chuckled and ran his fingers through Nezumi’s hair. Just like that. No hesitation, no silly flip flopping about whether it was appropriate or embarrassing. Nezumi was used to being the most confident person in the room, but he was okay with losing to Shion in this one area.

Shion played with his hair for several long, luxurious minutes. That was one thing they had in common: neither one ever grew tired of marveling at the other’s hair. Nezumi had grown his down to his shoulders during his travels, and he had fully planned to cut it off once he had gotten back to No. 6, but Shion had been so amazed by it he never followed through.

Nezumi sighed through his nose and closed his eyes.

“I love you.”

Nezumi opened his eyes, all drowsiness wiped from his mind. Shion stopped running his fingers through his hair, and stared back at him without a hint of shyness.

Nezumi sat up. He tried to parse the warm, fuzzy feelings he was experiencing from the years of bitterness and isolation. He swallowed. “I…”

Shion smiled at him. The look was gentle and affectionate and Nezumi felt even more confused.

“You don’t have to say it back right now. It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Shion’s smile didn’t waver. “You can take all the time you need.”

Nezumi huffed. “…I’m working on it.”

“Mm.” Shion leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

The film of uncertainty in Nezumi’s mind cleared. This he knew how to do. This didn’t require words. Nezumi shifted closer to Shion and pulled him into a kiss.