#anyway i may edit this later sorry if there are glaring errors!!

[caspersickfanfics]

Written for @monthofsick Day 13: Professionalism Failure

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, implied scat/diarrhea off screen

Anon asked:

Hey! I was wondering if I could request the professionalism failure for sick Cyno Tighnari caretaker? Maybe cyno has gotten food poisoning from a work event and has to somehow keep it together until tighnari can rescue him? Or maybe he can’t and has to deal with the embarrassment of it all. I just can imagine Tighnari being really protective over him if the other academy members give him a hard time~

A/N:

I don’t think this really makes sense in the canonical progression of things, but as I wrote this I imagined it taking place before Nahida had time to select actual good sages to replace the old ones. So the sages here are like the default ones who were next in line after Azar and that group. Essentially, they’re connected to Azar still but weren't directly convicted of any crimes and they have a lot less power. Idk, thinking about politics too much even in fiction makes me mad so I’m just gonna do a bit of a hand wave here.

This meeting has been a thorn in Tighnari’s side since the sages demanded to arrange it weeks ago. Despite his best efforts to wriggle his way out of it, the thorn had stuck. They’d backed him into a corner of sorts; the Akademiya demanded his presence specifically to even consider allocating funding to assist in the healing and maintenance of the Avidya Forest. Somehow, now that he’s in attendance, it’s even worse than he’d expected.

He scowls at the itinerary in front of him. It’s weighted so that anything anyone’s interested in will happen at the very end. No chance of leaving early. He probably shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

The one saving grace is that Cyno is here as well. While the matras’ financials are essentially secured as a matter of tradition, the specific way in which the money gets distributed is up in the air. Depending on the outcome, Cyno’s internal sense of justice may be placed in alignment with or in opposition to their mandates. This meeting may be even more important for him than for the forest rangers.

Which is why Tighnari is alarmed when, about 45 minutes into the 5 hour meeting, Cyno’s head is pillowed in his arms, resting upon the ridiculously long conference table. Although Tighnari is seated a distance away, he thinks he can see sweat matting the matra’s hair down. With any luck, he’s just being paranoid, though that seems unlikely. Even more so when Cyno raises his head and suddenly stands. His typically warm skin tone has paled to an ashy brown. He’s hunched over, too. His posture is altered so slightly that Tighnari doubts anyone else has noticed, despite all eyes turning his way at the scrape of his chair, but it’s glaringly obvious to him. Not to mention - this is Cyno’s second time interrupting the meeting. For the second time, too, he quietly excuses himself for the bathroom.

It’s fortunate that Alhaitham is still Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari had been somewhat grumpy towards his friend for the fact that he hadn’t been able to exempt him from the meeting, but the fiery grudge is doused when the ex-scribe’s glare silences annoyed complaints from the other sages about the General Mahamatra’s exit. If Alhaitham’s lingering frown is anything to go by, he’s noticed something off about Cyno as well.

The meeting continues on, and its participants are forced to split into breakout groups. They’re meant to be discussing the continued importance of knowledge to Sumeru, though no one seems to care enough to stay on topic. Instead, the people around Tighnari begin trash-talking Cyno.

“That’s enough gossip, I think,” Tighnari asserts dryly. He recognizes a handful of the nuisances around him as Bimarstan employees and smirks as they pale before him. “Sorry, who was it you were saying is unprofessional? I, for one, wonder about the ethical repercussions medical personnel might face if they were, say, reported for rudely speculating on a past patient’s personal life.” He resists the urge to make specific jabs at a particularly loud doctor whom he has quite damning intelligence on, but keeps the option available for future use as needed.

Fortunately, his colleagues are just barely smart enough to catch his threat. They carry their discussion to the topic at hand, and then onto some other irrelevant gossip that Tighnari doesn’t care enough to comment on. Instead, he’s distracted by tracking the time that Cyno’s been gone. Ten minutes, then 15. When the door finally creaks open, conversation lulls. Heads turn.

“I apologize for the disruption,” Cyno says upon entering. He looks… marginally better than he had when he’d left. The sages accept his apology with minor grumbling that is cut surprisingly short - again, likely thanks to the Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari will thank him, later. He tries to let his concern fade away, but is unable to resist clearing his throat.

“I’d like for the General to join our group, if that’s alright? I believe his insight would be rather beneficial to our current discussion.” A discussion to which Tighnari has been paying no attention. He is grateful once again for Alhaitham, who nods and silently leaves no room for disagreement.

Up close, Cyno looks exhausted. Tighnari was right to be worried. Cyno runs hot, but doesn’t tend to sweat; definitely not this profusely. He’s quiet by nature, but has never hesitated to voice his opinions. Now he says nothing even when their colleagues unapologetically speak with microaggressions and horribly biased misconceptions about the Eremites. His eyes are unfocused; Tighnari wonders if he’s hearing the conversation at all. As time passes, Cyno’s condition only worsens and he drifts closer to Tighnari’s side. Eventually, the matra’s stomach makes an angry noise and his cheeks flush. Tighnari pulls him aside.

“Do you need to leave?” He asks gently. Tighnari silently dares anyone else to comment with a quick glare at the rest of the group. They continue to chatter amongst themselves, shuffling out of earshot. Perhaps out of respect, an effort to grant some privacy; perhaps simply to gossip more. Tighnari simply does not care - not right now, at least. He’ll deal with it later if he needs to.

“I’m sorry,” Cyno says, voice weak. “I’m okay. My–” He sucks in a sharp breath and winces, his hand shaking as it drifts to his midsection. A moment passes; the pain intensifies and then relents. When he speaks again, Cyno’s voice is dulled. “My stomach is just disagreeing with something I ate.”

Clearly. If his partner were feeling better Tighnari would argue that this is a severe understatement. “You’ve been feeling bad this whole time?” Tighnari asks instead. The General shrugs.

“It’s manageable.”

Very deliberate phrasing, Tighnari notes. Outwardly, he nods. “Let me know if that changes, Cyno.”

The meeting carries on. It’s boring and obnoxious. The loud doctor continues to be vocal about his nonsense. Tighnari rebukes him occasionally for the sake of a bit of entertainment, but the other man is easily cowed. He defers quickly to Tighnari’s judgement each time. Uninteresting, but probably for the best; there’s no point in getting worked up over someone who will likely lose his position for malpractice in the next few months.

For his part, Cyno remains unspeaking in the presence of the rest of the group. He sits off to the side and fidgets, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, which Tighnari suspects is due to both a fever and humiliation. When the side of his face comes to rest against the table, Tighnari resists the urge to remove his heavy headdress only because he knows that doing so would embarrass Cyno further.

Next on the itinerary is free discussion, meaning that everyone at the meeting is supposed to get up, walk around, talk to people… Tighnari does not care for this sort of connection making. He doesn’t bother moving, and responds politely but vaguely to anyone who approaches him. More importantly, he responds the same way when anyone tries to approach his partner - perhaps with a touch of extra heat. Of course, Cyno could fend for himself, even in his current state, but Tighnari has no doubt that at least some of their colleagues have picked up on the General's vulnerability and are deliberately targeting it. He’s just sent someone away perhaps a bit too forcefully to be called diplomatic, when a cool, clammy hand wraps around his arm. Cyno is looking up at him.

“Tighnari. I feel sick.” A queasy burp escapes him. Tighnari frowns.

“You’re nauseous? Cyno,” he chides. “You need to rest at home.”

Fortunately, Cyno nods in agreement. “I’ll let the sages know that I’m leaving. You should stay,” he says, waving away Tighnari's skepticism. “I can handle this and - hic! - there’s no need for the forest to suffer for my failings.”

Tighnari nearly rolls his eyes. He’s sure that neither the forest nor the matra need to face consequences as a result of an illness entirely out of Cyno’s control; though he can acknowledge there is some benefit in his presence here, if the other man is able to hold out on his own. If he stays, Tighnari could at least ensure nothing disastrous happens regarding either of their positions.

Still. He would easily sacrifice that for the sake of Cyno’s wellbeing.

He watches the sick man approach the sages, who sit in large, looming chairs, making Cyno look tiny. Alhaitham stands, as if to stretch his legs, and moves close. Frustratingly, with all of the chatter and the distance between then, Tighnari can’t hear a thing without imposing on the conversation directly. He can see Cyno speak, and then Alhaitham nods. The elder sages frown and one says something, before two more join in. Cyno's head bobs, then shakes, and then he muffles what looks to be another burp into his fist. He’s still for a moment, aside from his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. 

Even without knowing the exact words exchanged, it’s more than evident that the sages are unwilling to respect Cyno’s needs. Tighnari is about to interfere when Alhaitham’s voice jumps up a notch - likely deliberately at a volume just loud enough for Tighnari to hear.

“So,” he’s saying to the other sages, “you’re saying that a doctor whose medical skills are acknowledged by the Akademiya must verify that he’s ill?”

Tighnari tenses. He immediately glances around the large room, eyes searching. Alhaitham is still speaking.

“For example,” he continues. “A Bimarstan doctor?”

There’s no use checking whether the sages agree - Alhaitham has them cornered. Now Tighnari just needs to— Ah. There.

He barely resists grabbing the doctor by the ear and latches onto his wrist instead. Under his breath, he speaks with venom, “Cyno is sick, clearly, don’t you agree?”

The man is silent, probably stunned, and Tighnari continues. “Or would denying the obvious truth be worth risking—”

“Oh no, yes, you are correct, Master Tighnari,” the doctor rambles nervously. Tighnari pushes him before the sages. They glance at one another. Cyno looks up, as well, but stays quiet, taking measured breaths.

“Well?” Tighnari asks. “He’s a Bimarstan doctor.”

With the glares of both Tighnari and Alhaitham pinned on him, the eldest sage slowly nods. Tighnari turns his gaze to the doctor and taps his foot. “Go on, then.”

“Oh! Um, yes, I believe that the General Mahamatra is experiencing some, uh, gastrointestinal distress. He should rest at home for the quickest recovery.”

“And,” Tighnari jumps in before he gets a chance to scurry away. “Would you recommend that someone assist in his care during this time, perhaps due to the strain of having been forced to stay on his feet for so long?”

“Ah, yes. Master Tighnari is correct, it would be wise for him to accompany the General. Should– should you all agree–” His backtracking cuts off with a wheeze as Tighnari stomps on his foot.

The eldest sage doesn’t look pleased, but he sighs, unsmiling as he spits out begrudging words. “I will allow it. But the forest watcher must agree to reapply for his funding and return to the city in a few weeks' time... Should he still be interested in the Akademiya’s support, that is.”

Tighnari grits his teeth. These geezers always need to get the last word in. “Fine,” he snaps, foregoing any pretense of politeness. He all but drags Cyno out of the conference room - gently of course, though he’s sure they’re equally eager to be elsewhere.

As soon as they’re through the door, Cyno stops.

“Tighnari. The bathroom— urp!” He lurches forward with an empty heave, then scrambles away. Tighnari is quick on his heels, and finds Cyno in an unlocked stall, trembling with his head hanging over the toilet. He hasn’t been sick yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Hey,” Tighnari speaks quietly. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Cyno glances at him briefly, then nods and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Tighnari scoffs.

“For saving me from that meeting? Cyno, please.”

The matra shakes his head. “It was important. And now you’ll have to come back. Not to mention– ugh,” a queasy shudder runs through him before Cyno is able to speak again. “Not to mention having to do the paperwork a second time.”

It’s an annoyance, but the paperwork isn't a big issue. Tighnari tells Cyno as much. “Just focus on getting better.”

The sick man has lost a great deal of the color in his face, and sweat glistens on his temples. His whole body is tense. Tighnari brushes his hair back, hoping to protect it from any mess and provide some comfort at the same time. “Try to relax,” he says.

“Guh,” Cyno moans. “I feel so… gross.”

Tighnari aches in sympathy. For as ill as Cyno looks, he’s sure he feels even worse. Minutes pass slowly. Cyno’s stomach makes angry noises and he’s periodically wracked by hiccups and burps. Eventually, Tighnari coaxes him into leaning back against his chest. His hands card through Cyno’s hair as the sick man turns, pressing his face into Tighnari's neck.

“You’re okay,” Tighnari murmurs. There are warm little puffs of air against his neck and it tickles, but he remains still.

He’s just beginning to sweat from his partner’s body heat when Cyno lurches away from him, hunched forward over an empty but gut-wrenching belch. His entire body heaves three times until he’s burping up a flood of vomit. It pours out of him with alarming urgency. Tighnari keeps his hair out of the way, but he can do little else but watch as Cyno violently empties himself. Each time he thinks it may be over, Cyno’s stomach contracts again. He sways; Tighnari steadies him just in time for another jet of puke to splash into the toilet water.

Disgusted shudders run through Cyno while he tries desperately to catch his breath. When he gets close, he is overtaken by coughs that bring up more bile. He groans.

Fortunately, there’s only so much in his stomach. When Cyno’s retching fails to bring anything else up for a handful of minutes, Tighnari half-drags him out of the stall, away from the sour smell. It seems to help. Cyno wipes his face and swallows thickly.

“How are you feeling?” Tighnari asks.

Cyno shrugs. “Bit better. For now.”

Tighnari hums; it’s to be expected. He suspects a bout of food poisoning or the stomach bug, so the next 24 hours or so will likely be challenging.  It’s a humbling thing, being able to do so little in the way of comfort at such a time. Still, he does what he can, massaging the back of Cyno’s neck, feeling him relax in time with his ministrations. He only stops when the matra begins drifting off.

Tighnari pokes his cheek. Cyno cracks an annoyed eye open, and Tighnari raises a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to sleep here? In this bathroom? Where our colleagues will eventually find us?”

Cyno nods. Cheeky bastard. His words are slurred when he speaks, as if his mouth has relaxed along with his body. “As long ’s you keep doin’ that…”

With a snort, Tighnari pulls them both to their feet. “Let’s go, you big lummox. I’d much rather give you a massage on your couch than on these gross tile floors.”

“Mhm,” Cyno mumbles, leaning heavily against his partner as they walk. “Nari… thank you.”

Chest warm, Tighnari ruffles the other man’s hair lightly and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Any time.”

———

Fanart for this fic!!!

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If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! I would super appreciate it <3 Thank you so much for reading!!

[dolliedarlin]

Hi I’m one of the anons who’s obsessing over the P.A series!!!!! For some reason my brain has been full w diff things that could happen IDKKK! Hope u don’t mind if I dump a few....

TW: this is A bunch of rambling and some grammar errors LMAO sorry

Idk y I c y/n having a stalker💀 this prob sounds rlly weird but hear me out. (To add drama, also I Lowkey wanna c Mina,Sero and kiri get mad idk y-)

Since we all know y/n is the baddest most sophisticated b*tch (sorry idk if I’m allowed to cuss or not LMAO) her Ex lover is still obsessed w her and thinks that they are soulmate even tho they obv aren’t. I feel like y/n knows he stalks her but she ignores it until it gets worst. Like he found out where she lives. (He finds out where she lives while she’s sick which is now loll)

Anyways I feel like Mina would be over at y/ns place and since she’s getting better they are In her living room talking abt who knows what and y/n gets a knock on her door she goes to open it and admittedly closes it looking shocked. Mina being a pro hero is  supposed to be able to read body language. Mina ask her if everything is Alr and y/n OFC (stupid a**) says yes. Mina didn’t want to keep pressing the issue so she dropped it until it became a reoccurring thing with y/n and it’s not just her that noticed. She (y/n) is extremely hesitant to open the door and when she does she opens it a little bit. (And then idk her EX does crazy like breaks into her apt and scares the sh** outa y/n) THIS IS WHERE MY BIG IDEA STOPS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 that was a lotta rambling my apologies

Have a great day dollie!

oh no! please don’t feel bad, it’s always fun for me seeing what you dolls would want to happen next

although i don’t plan on bringing any psycho exes into ‘the p.a’ series, as a writer and an avid daydreamer, i can’t help but play around with this idea 

warning: there are brief mentions of violence ; this is not a part of ‘the p.a’ series but is just a little thought that i just couldn’t help but try my own hand at also ; i didn’t edit this either 😂 so kindly forgive any grammatical/spelling mistakes 

continuing on from your idea...

⏤mina, having the sneaking suspicion that something bad might happen to you that night, notifies the rest of the group later on that day

⏤usually, bakugou was in charge of you during the night and always sat in a chair beside your bed on high alert, ready to serve your every need...

⏤BUT!

⏤now that mina told them about your suspicious behaviour, all of them were put on high alert. 

⏤they all agreed to keep you unaware of their intentions by having bakugou take care of you like usual but they made sure that when on the night patrol, they were close by with their radios on and constantly being hyper aware of the shortest route to your residence from wherever they were situated - just in case of an emergency 

⏤naturally, they trusted bakugou with keeping you safe but that didn’t mean that they had no worries for you at all 

⏤seeing as you usually feel asleep before bakugou switched with the sero, who took care of you in the late evening, you were under the impression that you were alone at home 

⏤your current condition disallowed you from comfortably staying awake so you were constantly tossing and turning in bed, brows furrowed and sweating more than usual

⏤”what is she dreaming about?” bakugou utters in frustration as he continues to wipe away the vastly accumulating sweat rom your wrinkled brows

⏤he wasn’t frustrated at you no no, he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t make you comfortable no matter how many wet towels he uses to cook your forehead or wipe your sweat clean off your skin 

⏤as the night progresses, you eventually fall into a dreamless sleep, far too exhausted to continue stressing over your ex with the added burden of your fever on your body

⏤nevertheless, bakugou continues being on high alert at all times except for when he momentarily leaves to room so as to go to the toilet 

⏤this was the perfect opportunity for your crazy ex to sneak into your room via the window bakugou left ajar so as to help cool you down better 

⏤your ex was a creepy and disgusting man - someone that you had grown to dislike the more you got to know him and naturally left as quickly as you were able to 

⏤what followed was harassment to the highest degree, thankfully you were able to protect yourself due to your self defence training and quirk, however, it didn’t take away the shuddering feeling of being watched constantly

⏤you grew paranoid and extremely fidgety over time and eventually filled for a restraining order. unfortunately, that didn’t work and left you to deal with the situation yourself

⏤you were naive enough to think that you had shaken him after a particularly horrible beating he took from you in self defence. he had come at you with a knife but you were able to disarm him and send him limping home with a dislocated arm, a black eye and a bruised ribcage 

⏤over time, you got busy with work and slowly forgot about him, it wasn’t until today that you were reminded of his crazy obsession with you and were thrown into a panic 

⏤believing that you were alone at night and in your most vulnerable state, you didn’t feel safe and sought to deal with the situation however you could, even in your dreams

⏤all attempts were in vain, however

⏤bakugou, returning from his momentary break to the toilet came back just in time to see your creepy ex hovering over your sleeping figure. as if you sensed the unpleasant existence stalking you, your body stiffened under the blankets and you began to breathe uncomfortably, beginning to sweat bucket-fulls once more

⏤not wanting to disturb your sleep as rest was the top priority for you, bakugou crept up from behind the unknown figure and instantly went for his neck, choking him into silence as he dragged his thrashing figure outside, far away from you all the while sending a emergency signal to the rest of the squad 

⏤in no time at all, the rest of the squad arrived and had your crazy ex cornered. at this time he had already been tied up by bakugou and was ready for a quick chat 

⏤”what the hell were you doing with our yn?” kirishima began, sharp teeth grinding together as he clenched his jaw 

⏤silence 

⏤”speak up, we can’t fucking hear you,” bakugou spat as the others glared on from beside him, their eyes piercing through the moonlight and darkness of the night 

⏤”y-yn isn’t yours - that’s the first thing,” your ex finally cracked, giggling creepily in between 

⏤”you’re right,” sero began, “yn doesn’t belong to anyone so why were did you break into her house,” it took everything in sero not to lash out but they needed answers

⏤”wrong again!” your ex sang, “she doesn’t belong to you, she belongs to me! i’m her boyfriend!”

⏤”yn doesn’t have a boyfriend,” kaminari spoke up

⏤”that’s right! and if she did, we would have known,” mina agreed

⏤“that’s because she doesn’t know it yet, we broke up but we’ll get back together again soon” the tied up man giggled to himself, “it’s only a matter of time before she realises her mistake and she comes back to me,” 

⏤the team of heroes didn’t know what to say, they were so shocked and appalled at what they were seeing and hearing that they couldn’t bring themselves to utter a single word of response, they only listened further

⏤”i hoped she’d come back soon, anyway...but i was getting impatient so i had to try and convince her a little more. she’s been ignoring my love for her all this time, she can’t continue rejecting me for long...” he laughs, “i bet she misses it”

⏤“miss what...?” bakugou didn’t want to know but it had to be said

⏤”i bet she misses being with me. she’s so beautiful and so soft to the touch, she always smells good too and she has such a lovely voice - i want her all to myself, she doesn’t deserve to be anybody else’s”

⏤it was then that the team of heroes just about lost their minds. the creep before them didn’t say anything explicit but the madness in his eyes and the harrowing smile he was displaying was off putting. they dread to imagine what a lowlife nasty sob like him put you through but they saw flashes of unforgivable scenes that sent all of them into insanity 

⏤someone so precious to them didn’t deserve any such treatment. you may not have disclosed anything to them strict on being professional but if this man was willing to break into your house...they were fearful to think about what else he was capable of

⏤he deserved a beating from that act alone, actually, and a beating he got

⏤they could’ve killed the guy - they were more than tempted to and it would have been so easy...but he deserved to suffer in jail for his crimes against you so they held back no matter how painful that was for them 

⏤the very next day, under their authority and recommendation, the man was locked up for as many years as they could tally up and seeing as they were heroes, they were able to look into his past documentations and found you had filed a restraining order for him under harassment, assault and a number of other things they grew all the more furious at the more the read

⏤they would prefer it if you didn’t realise what they did that night but the media couldn’t let the story of 5 high class pro heroes sending a singular, beaten man to jail for life

⏤your creepy ex’s battered photos were all over the news and you were so incredibly grateful  

[crimsonrae]

Oh, I am excited then! May I please request a Captain Syverson or Clark Kent/Femme! Reader oneshot where it's the reader's birthday, but she doesn't tell Sy/Clark because she doesn't celebrate/forgets and they find out and do something for her? Maybe a surprise dinner or something? Thank you so much, darling!!

Hey Nonnie,

As requested a birthday fic with Mr. Kent. Fluff fic - I hope you like it.

Clark KentxReader

Falling, Flying

Happy Birthday!

You sighed wearily as you eyed the balloon decorated card from the florist. A beautifully arranged bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums rested on your desk. Admittedly, the amber and wine tones were striking and brought a brightness to your office that was usually lacking, but it was also like having a bright neon sign to remind you of a day that you usually wanted to ignore.

This was the problem with having with life-long friends... they liked to torture you.

You chucked the card into your trash and moved the flowers to the window. You’d text Maria later to call her an asshole and thank her for the little gift.  

“Hey, nice flowers.”

Your butt had barely touched your desk chair. Biting back another sigh, you glanced up to see Lombard loitering in your doorway, “Thanks... Did you have that election article for me?”

“Y/N, it’s all work and no play with you.” Lombard complained loftily as he leaned against the threshold.

You shook your head, ignoring him as you logged into your computer. Your fingers clacked hard at the keyboard when he didn’t disappear nor answer your question. He stood like a creepy grotesque and it only took another minute of stunted silence before you broke.

“Lombard, what do you want?” He grinned victoriously while you threw a mocking scowl at him, “Article?”

He sauntered forward and dropped into the chair before your desk, “So, what are the flowers for? Did Smallville screw up? Apology flowers? Or an anniversary? Don’t let Lois see if it’s the second, cuzzz I don’t think it’s been quite a year since they’ve broken up.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath about reporters. Never mind that you used to work as one, editing was more in your comfort zone anyway. You and Clark had only managed to date for two weeks before the office found out.  

Bloodhounds – every single one of them.  

Including your boy.

“You should work for a gossip rag, Steve. You’d really shine there.” You stated dryly, focusing back on the screen as a few new articles showed in your inbox. It was going to be a busy day of fact-checking and proofreading.

“Oh, don’t be mean. I’m just taking a healthy interest in my colleague’s life.” A smugly amused smirk crossed his lips before a pen came flying at his face, “Hey!”

Unapologetic, you pointed at the door “Get out of my office and get your article done.”  

He moved to protest or retort, you weren’t sure, as a new voice interrupted.

“Harassing my girl again, Lombard.”

A feeling of déjà vu fell over you as you and Lombard looked to your door to see Clark leaning in the threshold. You smiled faintly at him becoming amused as Lombard actually shifted to stand. As nice as Clark was, Lombard was well aware that his arms were the size of his head. He felt it better for his ego if he never stood to close to the other reporter...or pissed him off.

And yet...

“Nice choice of flowers, Smallville. So, what did you do?” The smaller man queried jovially.

You threw another pen at him as Clark zeroed in on your present and frowned. He tilted his head curiously and came over to have a better look, allowing Lombard a direct escape if he wanted, “Those aren’t from me.”

You could practically feel a whole new level of intrigue pour from Lombard at Clark’s words. You sent the nosy reported a pointed glare and lifted a pen threateningly. He finally took the hint and left as you spun your chair to face your boyfriend.

You couldn’t stop a cheeky smile as he arched a brow at you, “Yeah...I’ve been meaning to tell you – I've been seeing other guys. You’re gonna need to step up your game, farm boy.”

Clark snorted and slanted a mockingly stern gaze at you through his glasses. You still couldn’t decide if you liked him better with or without the frames, but the meandering thought flew from your head as he nudged your legs apart with his knee and leaned into you. You spared a quick glance towards your open door before meeting him halfway for a kiss.

A soft warmth enveloped you as he nipped your lip and gently coaxed your mouth to open. He stole your breath as he delved deeper and you tasted each other thoroughly. Somehow, you always forgot how good a kisser he was.... it was almost unfair. Especially when he pulled away with that knowing glint in his eye that made you want to smack him and climb him like a tree all at once.  

He smirked, “Somehow, I’m not worried.”

“You don’t play fair.” You grumbled though an affectionate smile pulled at the edges of your lips.

“Says the woman who’s receiving flowers from someone other than her boyfriend.” Clark drawled pointedly as he leaned against your desk.

Unwillingly, you glance at your flowery neon sign. You had no desire to share the real reason for the bouquet. Your birthday had never been a particularly good day for you and the only good ones that you had celebrated had been when you were alone.  

A cup of tea and a good book to read as you let the day pass you by and ignored the fact that you were another year older... that was your perfection.

You sighed and shrugged, “They’re from Maria, so no need to be jealous.”

His brow furrowed. He had only met Maria a few times and was still trying to wrap his head around the friendship you two shared. Insults, practical jokes, and a fair bit of clothes thievery made up the majority of your relationship.

“You guys aren’t in a prank war again, are you?” Clark asked leerily.

He had been the unintended victim of a couple of your pranks the last month and you couldn’t help, but smirk at the memory.  

You shook your head, a lie spilling from your lips before you could stop it, “No. I think I need to check my closet for those new Jimmy Choo's I bought. They’re probably gone now.”

Clark rolled his eyes, “I really don’t understand you two.”

“You don’t need to.” You replied calmly but made the mental note to check your closet anyway. You never knew with Maria.  

“Y/N! Stop canoodling your boyfriend! You’ve got papers on the printer.”

A low groan left your lips as a faint heat filled your cheeks at Lombard’s voice, but you moved to get up anyway. You had no desire to have him hover in your office again.  

Clark moved to follow before a colorful glint caught his eye. A quick check showed him that you were already out of the office as he reached down to pull the florist’s card from the trash. A deep frown marred his features as he took in the festive balloons and quickly scrawled birthday wish.

Why wouldn’t you tell him it was your birthday?

He quickly nabbed Maria’s number from your phone and disappeared from your office.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Your eyes had begun to sting as you stared at your computer screen. A small headache forming at the base of your neck, as you continued to work. You hadn’t been wrong when you assessed that today was going to be busy.

Five more articles had appeared on your desk before lunch and about a dozen phone calls placed and taken before and after that – notes were scribbled into margins and glaring errors corrected. So far, you had only been able to toss back a couple pieces and it was well after six already. Tiredly, you rubbed at the bridge of your nose, more than ready to go home and collapse into bed...but there was still so much you needed to do.

“Hey, you about ready to go?”  

You started at the sound of Clark’s voice, nearly sending your keyboard skittering to the floor, “Christ! I swear you need a damn bell.”

He chuckled lowly, watching as you clutched at your chest and glared mildly at him. He came to stand next to your desk, noting that you hadn’t even begun to shut down for the night while his shoulder bag was already tucked under his arm, ready to call it quits, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Grab your stuff, I’m taking you to dinner.”

A rueful smile quirked at your lips as you wave him off, “Raincheck, babe. I need to get this done or Perry’s gonna have a fit.”

He frowned glancing over the mess of papers on your desk. He hadn’t planned for you to still be working and almost wondered if you had taken on extra articles on purpose, “How much more do you have to do?”

“Don’t know. Maybe another hour – two tops.” You shrugged and smiled softly at him, “You’re free to roam the skies, Captain.

Clark raised an incredulous brow. Not because you had alluded to his alter-ego, you had known for a few months now and had slowly been coming to terms with the fact that your boyfriend was a superhero. It was a road that had not been easily traveled by any means. No, his disbelief came from now being certain that you had taken on extra articles.  

You didn’t often seek solitude, but when you did it was by diving into your work... he had learned that particular quirk relatively quickly and almost painfully. But not tonight – tonight you and he had plans and he wasn’t about to let you break them.

He reached over your shoulder and hit a couple buttons on your keyboard to send your computer into hibernation. You stared in shock at his gall, “Clark!”

He was already grabbing your coat, “Dinner, let’s go.”

Your gaze swiveled from the computer to him, your headache becoming full-blown as your expression creased into annoyance, “I told you, I have work. I’m sorry if that ruins your plans, but we’ll just -”

“You didn’t have lunch.” He cut you off and crossed his arms with a mild glare of his own, “You’ve been mainlining coffee like there’s about to be a tariff placed on it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that all you ate today was a bagel from Guillermo’s. And I know for a fact that no one has a deadline that needs to be met today or tomorrow. Dinner. Now. Don’t think I won’t drag you out of here.”

You glare at each other in a silent standoff. It wasn’t until he stepped toward you that you gave in with a heavy scowl, “What are you? My mother?”  

“A concerned boyfriend.” He retorted as he held out your coat.

You accepted it grudgingly and grabbed your purse before stepping out of the office. Clark followed behind you, not wanting to give you a chance to close the door on him. You had done it before.  

He watched you from the corner of his cerulean eyes. Your annoyance didn’t last long, but a deep weariness seemed to fall over you as the two of you left the Planet. He slid a warm comforting hand across the small of your back to grip lightly at your hip. Relief flowing through him as you leaned into his side. You weren’t too annoyed with him, then.

You made it down an entire block before you realized you didn’t know where you were heading. Both of your apartments were in the other direction and any decent restaurant required calling for a cab to get to...

You blinked in confusion, “Clark...where?”

He smiled wondering when you would ask. Glancing around discreetly, he pulled you into an alley and firmly against his body. Your brow rose, a questioned poised on the tip of your tongue that turned into a startled scream as you suddenly found yourself in the air.

Your arms wrapped around his neck like a lock as you buried your face into his shoulder. Muffled curses and small whimpers spilled from your throat as the two of you flew. Even when he slowed, now safely away from prying eyes and telescopes, you refused to look up.  

“You can relax. I won’t drop you.” He murmured into your ear, feeling mildly guilty for scaring you. He could feel you trembling and knew it wasn’t from the cold air.

A muffled curse was his only response as you gripped tighter. You did not like this.

Luckily, you were soon on the ground again, though it took you a few minutes to remember how to unlock your frozen limbs. Your heart pounded in your chest as you swallowed against a noxious turn of your stomach. You couldn’t stop shaking...

Clark rubbed soothingly at your arms as you tried to find some semblance of control over your body. Your eyes slowly opened into a dark glare, your hand already moving to smack him in the chest. It was infuriating to know that it wouldn’t hurt him, “Don’t ever do that again, you jackass.”  

His eyes widen in a way that reminded you of a scolded puppy, but you refused to bend and stumbled back a step. You turned intending to see where exactly he had dropped you and figure out how to get home but froze at the sight you found.

Twinkle lights shimmered in the burgeoning night sky as they danced about the branches of an old willow tree. A small wooden table set for two was guarded by the fluttering leaves while being showcased by the light. It was startlingly quaint and romantic all in one.

Martha smiled as she placed a covered dish in the center of the table and waved at the two of you. You were on the farm...  

“Happy Birthday,” Clark murmured behind you.

Your mouth moved silently before you turned confused eyes on him, “...How?”

“I saw the card in your trash can. Called Maria... then I called mom.” Clark explained casually as if he were talking about the weather.

Stunned all you could do was blink, even as Martha came up to greet the two of you.  

She wrapped you in a quick hug, “Happy Birthday, dear.”

Then turned to place a kiss to her son’s cheek before shooing you towards the table, “Go, eat before it gets cold. I need to finish your cake.”

Cake. The word jolted you back to reality, “Oh Martha - you didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”

“Nonsense.” She called back, already halfway back to the house.  

Distracted, Clark slipped his hand into yours and gently tugged you towards the table. Smells of garlic and tomato and cheese wafted toward you and your mouth began to water. Sheer wonder filled you as Clark pulled your chair out for you and then moved to uncover the dish Martha had left. Steam rose into the air as he revealed a freshly baked lasagna. Salad and garlic bread next to it.

Your throat constricted as you took in the care that had gone into this... A home cook meal shouldn’t bring you to tears, but you felt the sting at the corners of your eyes.  

“Y/N?” Clark called quietly. Worried that he may have overstepped his bounds with this surprise.

Your heart felt too big for your chest as you met his gaze. It was with tremulous movements that you left your seat to place a grateful kiss to his lips, “Thank you...I didn’t...You didn’t need...”

You couldn’t find the words to express just how overwhelmed you were feeling as you fell back to your seat, but not letting go of his hand.

Clark watched you with a soft smile, “I think it's my right to spoil my girlfriend on her birthday, though it would help if I had known sooner.”  

A stray tear spilled down your cheek as you shook your head, knowing that you would have to explain your distaste for this day...but you also didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts, “I didn’t expect you to...Clark -”

He squeezed your hand as if he already knew, “Tell me later, I have more spoiling to do.”

You huffed a laugh and shyly smiled, “You know Clark Kent, you really know how to make a girl fall.”

He grinned widely, “And to think you hate flying.”

“You’re still not fully forgiven for that... but I think I’ll get over it.” You murmured, joy burning your veins as his expression turned relieved.

He pressed a kiss to your joined hands.

It was the first birthday you could say that you truly enjoyed. Over a plate of hot lasagna in the late summer night as crickets chirped and frogs sang and with a man... a man who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. That was the only present you ever needed.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

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[msjr0119]

Hey everyone! Sorry for another long hiatus, I’m still alive- even if I look like a zombie every morning 🙈😂. I have really bad baby brain at the moment so if there’s some grammatical errors, please ignore them. They will be rectified before posting.

⚠️Please do not read if you are under 18⚠️

A/N1: Whilst I’ve been on hiatus I have been editing a few things of mine, so have decided to do a Sneak Peek/ WIP. There will be warnings for each specific series.

A/N2: @callmeellabella / @plumeriavibes sent me a few requests to do over a year ago- they are completed and I hope to post this week. Technically here in the UK we are still in lockdown - so they will still be apt, Ella 😂

Tags- As always I tag my combined tag list for these things⬇️

@drakexwillow @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desiree-pow @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @rafasgirl23415 @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @shanzay44 @choices97 @gardeningourmet @lovablegranny @mom2000aggie @gkittylove99 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @rubiwalker

Cordonian Wags

⚠️ Warnings - Possible adultery? 🤷‍♀️

“Miss Brooks, please.” Standing up slowly, her legs felt like jelly. Following the sonographer into the room, she laid on the bed before slowly raising her top which revealed a small neat bump. The image that all the paparazzi had been so desperate to capture.

“Before we begin, are there any questions that you’d like to ask?” The woman calmly asked as she prepared to begin the scan.

“Every baby is a miracle, right?”

“Yes, of course they are. There’s no need to be worried. Everything will be fine.” Obviously the health of the baby was a priority- but in her situation there were other queries that were lingering throughout her mind.

“Your baby is going to be either a footballer or a gymnast. Look at its legs, it’s such a wriggle bum.” For the first time since entering the room, she slowly turned her head and viewed her baby for the first time. “The baby’s heartbeat is fine... you have a very active and healthy baby. I have no concerns. How many copies of the photo would you like?” Answering one, she ran her finger over the black and white shot. Just you and I, little one.

“Can I ask one question?”

“Of course!”

“With these scans... I may sound stupid, which I have been recently in the last few months. My question... it’s ridiculous. I already deep down know the answer but can you tell certain things such as the baby’s race? Grandparents DNA?” The medical professional sat down close to her, holding her hand that was shaking as she spoke those words.

“Unfortunately not.... is there....”

“Let me rephrase my question... is there anyway that you can tell who the father is?”

****

A Proposal

There are two WIP for this series. A one shot based on Bertrand as well as a sneak peek for the upcoming chapter. If you don’t read the series, the one shot can be read as a stand alone.

⚠️Warnings: Swearing, nudity, possible ‘affair’.

One shot

Regretting his idiotic split second decision, Bertrand was now locked out of his room. Wearing a skimpy towel that barely just covered up his manhood. Due to the alcohol consumption- his brain was barely functioning as he began to ‘walk’ along the corridor. Rounding the corner, he spotted two familiar faces- then stumbled knocking down a painting off of the wall.

“Your highness! Ri Ri... good evening.” Both sets of eyes widened, mainly for two reasons. The first one being, witnessing Bertrand in this state. The second reason- would the Duke remember seeing them together. Alone. Did he see Liam lock his lips onto Riley’s? They would sure find out in the morning, once the group reformed.

“I wonder where everybody else is? Where’s the staff in this place?” Bertrand muttered to himself as he entered the elevator. Reaching the ground floor, the drunk duke strolled out not having a care in the world.

“Sir? You cannot walk around like that. Please return to your room immediately!”

“I’m locked out!” Wafting his arms in the air- the towel soon disappeared. Creating jaws in the reception to drop to the floor in sync. “What? Have you never seen a naked man before?”

“Sir... please....” The young receptionist pleaded.

“If I hear you say ‘Sir’ one more time, I will get the prince to lock you up in his dungeon.... I AM A FUCKING DUKE YOU IMBECILE!” To avoid more of a commotion, the receptionist handed Bertrand a sign to hold against his private parts. Out of order. To cover his buttocks up- she handed him another sign; No exit.

Chapter 2

Riley headed down to the hotel lobby, mainly needing to grab some breakfast to sober up. Still feeling slightly drunk, she had debated whether or not to eat or do the hair of the dog.

“Blossom! There you are!” Jumping out of her skin to begin with- she was relieved when Maxwell was on his own.

“Here I am...” Where should I have been? Did I miss a memo?

“I was so worried about you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. We’ve lost Liam. Then I came to find you and couldn’t see you anywhere. Bertrand- well I found him naked on the bathroom floor. With two... forget about Bertrand. Where have you been? You smell manly. Have you ran out of that black opium already?”

“Well I was in my room all night. The jet lag must have knocked me unconscious...” Lying, she didn’t want to admit that she had a blissful night with the prince. “What do you mean I smell manly?” Having a discreet sniff of herself, she couldn’t smell anything.

“You smell of aftershave. It’s similar to what Drake and Liam wear. Are you sure that you was alone?” Shit.

“Erm, I fell over on the way down here. A man who works here helped me. He must have been wearing the same aftershave. There’s not only people in Cordonia who wear it Max! Although I did bump into Daniel at some point. It could have been him? I was on my own, all night. Believe me.” Please believe me.

****

The American Adventure

Warnings: Swearing

“Riley?” The line cut off.

It wasn’t her, that’s why she hung up. How useless is Glen? We are looking for Leo. Unless Leo has a secret that he’s keeping from us all.

“Hey, Li. Wrong number. Fuck it, forget about Leo. If we can’t track him down we will just go to New York without him. As Bastien said, you need to have a bachelor party before the shit show of a social season begins.” Liam didn’t require Drake to remind him of what his future held for him. The lack of freedom and choices he could have made him wish at times that he wasn’t now the next in line.

“Glen was sure that was the correct number.” Liam glared at his head guard, who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Unless Leo’s turned into some obnoxious Yankee bitch- then no it’s the wrong number. I’ll just go and pack a bag and come back with you. Give me five minutes.” Waiting for Drake to be out of view, Glen gulped before defending himself to his monarch.

“That was the number that you provided me with your highness- and I confirmed it. Somebody else must have that number now. Not, Riley.”

“Glen, once we get back to the palace- do another thorougher search on Lindsey and Riley Brooks.” Liam whispered.

“But, your highness... you’ve been trying to do this for over a decade now. Myself and Bastien - we tried....”

“Glen, don’t question my actions. Please. I am pleading with you to do this one more time. Bastien always avoided doing this for myself. For Drake. I don’t know why? But it seemed like he knew something but kept it from the both of us. If we can’t find them, then I’ll accept defeat.”

“Yes Sir, what about Prince Leo?”

“Leave Leo to me, I already know where he is. He’s closer to us than you all think.”

***

The Unexpected Roommate

Just a short sneak peek for this one. Don’t want to give too much away.

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Leo x Olivia, Liam x ?

⚠️Warnings: Swearing, pranks, alcohol mention, end of a relationship.

Once she had packed all of her belongings, she looked around the apartment- feeling slightly sentimental. Leaving the keys on the table, she didn’t want to keep them. Instead, she wanted to close this chapter of her life- being Drake Walker’s roommate.

“Shit! The cupcakes!” Racing over to the oven- she had completely forgotten about her goodbye gesture that was now impersonating a charcoaled sausage. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Emptying the cupboards, food items were now scattered everywhere until she stumbled across a basic Victoria sponge cake. That’ll do.

~ ~ ~

Drake and Leo returned to the apartment- slightly later than the two of them had anticipated. Whilst they sat in the bar, Drake thought back to Riley’s words. Regretting denying that she could be correct, he had hoped that she would have reconsidered about staying with Olivia. He needed to apologise, talk openly to her- before he lost her for good.

“It’s ‘oh so quiet’... awww she’s made us a cake with a message on it, Drake.”

Au reviour, Dickheads...Ri xo

“She’s a fucking scruff! Have you seen all of the burnt cupcakes? The washing up pile? Food everywhere! She’s fucked off and not cleaned up after herself!”

“Drake, calm down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. How the two of you lived together and not killed each other is beyond me. Let’s tuck in.” Drake shook his head as he watched Leo dive in like a starved caveman. Staring vacantly at the scene surrounding them, he had no idea where to begin to clean up after Riley.

“This is disgusting! It tastes weird... just try a bit, buddy. I think my taste buds are playing tricks with me.” Taking one glance at the cake, Drake rolled his eyes back after inhaling the aroma of the sponge cake.

“It tastes weird because it’s not what you’d usually top a cake or dessert with. How stupid could you be eating something before smelling it?”

“It looked soooo scrumptious. When you’ve been drinking, you’re starving. What is it then Mr Clever clogs?” Leo sarcastically said.

“You use it with a razor!”

****

Unnamed one shot

I decided to do a one shot based on my labour of my little girl. It was short in comparison to most labours- but so much happened. Looking back now, I find it slightly hilarious.

⚠️Warnings: Alcohol mention, labour.

Ten minutes later- Savannah knocked on the door. Wearing her pajamas, Ugg boots and a parka coat- Riley knew it was cold outside, it was December after all. But she believed that Savannah would have come fully dressed as she had taken a long time to arrive when she lives on the next road. As she entered the house- she witnessed her brother pouring whiskey into his cup of tea. Shaking. Panicking. Wondering how the labour was going to go. Would he be a good birth partner again? Would it all go to plan?

“Great minds, bro.” As she said this, a can of Strongbow magically appeared from her coat pocket. Bitches I’m the one in labour, why are you both drinking alcohol?

“Can you one of you just get me some pain relief please? It’s in the top drawer...” Savannah looked at Drake with a perplexed expression, wondering what Riley meant with her words. Lucky Drake knew what his girlfriend was referring to. He didn’t agree with her choice. But also wouldn’t want her to turn into ‘she hulk’ if he refused to give her it.

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday, Morning Edition

Since a good portion of my vacation was dedicated to doll customization, there will be a second one of these later, after I’ve snapped some in-progress pictures. For now, though, for my usual Downton audience, a longer-than-usual chunk from one of my novels-in-progress.

I thoroughly blame @alex51324 for writing the wonderful “Jeeves and the Inferior Valet” and thus introducing me to Wodehouse. While this isn’t in anyway related to that fic, other than the obvious subject matter, I feel that is absolutely credit that should be given. I’ve been working on this piece, off and on, for a couple of years now. If we all live to be 90, you may get to read it complete! As it is, I’m trying to nudge it along right now, so here, have the opening:

It seems to me that one must never be too glad to be alive. That is to say, whenever one is feeling his best, his most topping self, Fate seems to take it as a personal affront and sets about correcting things. On the morning of which I speak, I woke perfectly refreshed. I felt so all together zippy that if someone had barged into my bedroom and insisted on a conversation before I’d downed a single cup of tea, I might well have nearly managed. The weather was clement and with the help of a horse named Dark Secret who had managed a rather impressive win the day before, so was my bank account. Of course, a Wooster never has much to worry about when it comes to affording life’s niceties, but it is always nice to come out on the proper side of these things. Yes, it was with this sunny outlook on life that I applied myself to breakfast and was tucking into the eggs and b. when Jeeves appeared with two clouds to shadow my good cheer.

“Mrs. Travers called earlier, sir,” he informed me.

“Aunt Dahlia?” The news was somewhat surprising, I admit, but no cause for alarm. After all, Aunt Dahlia is my good aunt. That is to say, my better aunt. That is to say the aunt who isn’t Aunt Agatha who could turn a gorgon to stone with her glare and is forever trying to shackle me with a job or a wife, preferably both. “What does she want?”

“As the owner and editor of Milady's Boudoir, she has been invited to spend the weekend in Yorkshire at the estate of the Earl of Grantham,” Jeeves reported dutifully. “The Earl’s younger daughter, the Marchioness of Hexham, runs the Sketch and has apparently organized a small gathering of women in the profession.”

“Hexham?” The Woosters might be gentlemen, but none of us can boast of hobnobbing with the upper echelons of the peerage. Once you get past the honorable misses and misters, we find ourselves a bit outclassed, no matter how noble our hearts. Still, one hears of people, in the right circles, and nothing I’d heard about the Marquess of Hexham had lead me to believe he’d be married before the age of sixty, and then under great protest. “When did the Marquess of Hexham find time to get married? Isn’t he the one who’s always off in Tangiers?”

“That was the previous Lord Hexham,” Jeeves corrected my error. “If you’ll recall sir, he died last year. Malaria, I believe.”

“Oh, that’s right. Dashed sorry to hear that.” Admittedly, I never actually met the man in my life, but there are some things you simply feel sorry about. Forgetting someone has died is one of them.

“He was quite well liked in certain circles and will be missed. His cousin, the current Marquess, was married this past December.”

Clearly I was on the right page now, but something still seemed a bit rummy about it. “But isn’t the family home in Northumberland? Why wouldn’t the Marchioness have it there?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

The only thing I could think of was that the size of the building was more accommodating to the cause. “I can’t imaging an Earl having a grander house than a Marquess.”

“It would seem odd, sir.”

“Still, I suppose if you’re a Marchioness who wants to have a to-do at her father’s house, and he’s only an Earl, you can jolly well do as you please and not much he can do about it, what?”

“I would imagine so, yes sir. Whatever the lady’s reasoning for the location, Mr. Travers has been taken ill, and so Mrs. Travers would like you to come with her to help make up the numbers at dinner.”

“That is straight out,” I replied, with a fair amount of relief. I like Aunt Dahlia well enough, but spending more time with her than it takes to enjoy a dinner from her French chef Anatole is generally courting disaster. A fellow could easily find himself in chokey for the theft of a cow creamer, for instance. “I have a very important dinner at the Drone’s club tomorrow night and it is imperative I don’t miss it.”

“Very good, sir. Mrs. Gregson also called.”

“Aunt Agatha?” I nearly choked on a piece of bacon. The day suddenly seemed less sunny. That is to say, while the first cloud didn’t look so alarming, this one promised rain, thunder, and possibly a lightening strike or two. “And the purpose of her call?” I asked, once I’d cleared the old palate.

“She wishes you to have dinner with her tonight,” Jeeves replied, making it seem like a remarkably mundane event. Meals with Aunt Agatha are never mundane, and not because she has an extraordinary French chef. Her chef is of the perfectly ordinary, English variety.  “Apparently there is a young lady by the name of the right Honorable Miss Proops she believes you should meet.”

If there is any announcement perfectly calculated to make the Wooster blood run cold, it’s hearing that Aunt Agatha wants me to meet a young lady. The woman is determined to see me married off and churning out offspring like crumpets from a bakery. I hardly see why since she makes no attempt to disguise the fact she doesn’t like me. I��d think she’d prefer me to die a childless bachelor, rather than populating the world with little Bertrams. What’s worse, she seems to think I should be attached to an ‘improving’ sort of woman, the sort that keeps up on Freud and the other philosophers and carries on the sort of academic conversation one avoided at Oxford. “Grim business, Jeeves. Very grim.”

“I can not imagine it would be a pleasant evening for you, sir.”

“No, not pleasing in the least. Especially since there is only one reason that Aunt Agatha ever wants me to meet a Miss anyone. If I’m not careful, I’ll be engaged by the dessert course. ” I prodded at my e., suddenly devoid of appetite. “Still, I daren’t not attend, not without jolly good reason. What do you suggest?” I gave him my most imploring look. If ever I was in need of that amazing brain of his, it was now.

“I would suggest you go to Yorkshire with Mrs. Travers, sir,” Jeeves replied with a promptness that bespoke forethought. I began to suspect he’d presented the phone calls to me in the order he did for a purpose, and I was soon to be proven correct. “Since you learned of her offer first, Mrs. Gregson can, with a reasonable amount of truthfulness, be told it was a previous engagement. It has the further advantage of being well away from London and, according to an acquaintance of mine who happens to live in the very village we will be visiting, has lovely weather this time of year.”

“The old Metrop. does get a bit oppressive around this season,” I agreed, quickly warming to the idea. There was still only one point of hesitation. “This Earl, though. He doesn’t happen to collect antique silver, does he?”

“No sir. Lord Grantham is known for collecting snuff boxes, which none of your family is interested in, and favors Labradors over terriers for canine companionship. Also, his two living daughters are both safely married.”

I needed no further convincing. “Right-ho, Jeeves! Call Aunt Dahlia and let her know we’d be delighted to accompany her. Then pack my cases for the country. This will be a perfect chance to wear my new tie!”

“Not the Macclesfield, sir, surely.”

I did not like the tone in which he said that. Largely, I have come to accept Jeeves’s view on the contents of my wardrobe, hidebound as it is, but there are days it seems he’s going absolutely backwards. “And what’s wrong with it?”

“While it is a fine tie in many regards, it does not suite your complexion-.”

“Hang my complexion, Jeeves,” I countered gamely, before he could add his customary ‘sir’. “Every once in awhile a man’s complexion needs something new, something zippy to shake it up.” He looked ready to protest, so I fixed him with my steeliest gaze. Absolutely unbendable. “I will wear it, Jeeves!”

“Very good, sir.”

As he was turning to leave, a thought occurred to me. “By the way, you said Lord Grantham’s two living daughters were married. Has he any others?”

“His Lordship’s youngest daughter, Mrs. Sybil Branson nee Crawley, died in childbirth back in 1920. Her husband, Mr. Branson, lives at Downton with his in-laws.”

“Ah. Good to know.” Storing that information away in my head as something not to bring up over dinner, I turned my attention to finishing my breakfast.

So there you go! The suitably improbable intro! At least, I feel it’s pretty durn unlikely, even before the movie, that Edith would hold a writer’s conference at Downton, or if she did that she’d invite Aunt Dahlia, etc. But this isn’t about realism, it’s about having an excuse to write Bertie being an idiot and Thomas being a snark face in the same story. Who says you can’t have everything?

In other news, I fully understand why Wodehouse spent so much time writing Jeeves and Wooster stories. Bertie’s a blast!

[cordoniantrash]

Once Upon Another Time: Chapter Nine

AU: In another time where the brothers Beaumont did not reach Cassandra in time, the waitress turned lady went back to New York to rebuild her old life. After finding an unexpected souvenir, she set off and joined her long lost family. Four years later, a newly divorced King of Cordonia arrives in New York in hopes of reuniting with his beloved. Instead of Cassandra, all he found was a postcard with the word Edgewater written on the back

Catch up here: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Plus a masterlist if you guys are interested. Also in AO3.

Hello and welcome to my longest chapter to date! Also the opening of the “second act”. Chapters from this one onward are gonna be pretty long, so... brace yourselves I guess? Huge thanks to @thequeennefertipi for being my beta and for sticking with this story. 

Segue: If you guys like the Miraculous Ladybug, she’s written an amazing fanfic about Chloé Bourgeois, which can be found in her writing blog and in her AO3!

Anyways, feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Spelling and grammatical errors are mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, Pixleberry has that privilege. Title for both the series and the chapter titles, plus the epigraphs are from Sara Bareilles’ discography.  

Pairings: Liam x MC

Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of violence, long post

Words: 9994

Chapter Nine: Wicked Love

Wait until you see

How mighty the truth can be

Like an ocean of light

It's a sky filled with fireflies

 Liam could still catch snippets of the revelry inside even though he had closed the double doors that lead to the balcony. Placing both hands on the railing, he allowed his composure to bleed away from him. That did not ease his heavy heart. Liam heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes. 

“You know, I thought you’d have a few more years before you’d try to escape anniversaries.”

Liam tensed. Taking care to mask his emotions, he turned and met his father’s eyes. 

“You should be resting, father.”

Constantine’s small smile vanished. A part of Liam, the little boy that still yearned for his papá, for just a moment, just a little more time, for just a scrap — mourned its loss. He mentally shrugged off the heartache, a part of him surprised at how easily he could do it. Must be all the practice he’s been getting.

“Liam—“

“The festivities can survive without me for a few more moments, father. Besides, Madeleine can handle it.” 

“I know that. We both know that. But that is not why I sought you out.”

“Father—“

“No, Liam. King or no king, a son must still listen to his father.”

Liam’s hands curled into fists. A multitude of words seemed to have stuck inside his throat, all of them yearning to be let out. To let his father know how hard this year had been. How much it hurt. He wanted to scream and lash out. Let the world know how he felt. Why should I listen to you when you blocked me at every turn? Why should I even look at you when you’ve hurt her and driven her away? When you made a mockery of our choices?

“If this is about having an heir again—“

Constantine shook his head. “You’ve made your stance clear enough. I’ll give you the time you asked for. But that does not mean the people would as well. You can’t play the newlywed card forever,” his father took a few steps in his direction. “Liam, it may not look like it, but this truly is what’s best for you. For our kingdom.” He placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Fairy tales are all well and good, but you must think of what’s best for Cordonia.”

He gestured towards the ballroom. Towards Madeleine. 

“Remember, you are Cordonia. And your future is here.”

His father let go of Liam’s shoulder. With long strides, he reached the doors and opened them. With a glance over his shoulder, Constantine imparted a parting blow.

“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

-

Liam woke up with his left arm asleep. Eyebrows furrowed and vision still foggy from sleep, it took him a moment to see what caused his arm to go numb. What he first thought to be a dark mass turned out to be Cassandra’s head. Liam glanced down and saw a smaller body cradled between them. Somehow during the night, his arm had served as a pillow for both Lucas and Cassandra. Liam smiled, all thought of his discomfort gone. Slowly and with a gentleness he vaguely remembered from his mother, he wrapped his free arm around his family, holding them close. He thought of the memory that came back as a dream. Of his father’s words. He looked at Cassie and Lucas again.

It can work out. I’ll do my hardest to make this work. 

I won’t lose my family again.

----

“Does Lucas like castles?”

“Hmm?” Cassie looked up from the article she was editing. And stared. Liam, still looking through his phone, took a seat next to her. That wasn’t what caused all thoughts to flee from her mind. The father of her child and the love of her life, the King of Cordonia was wearing glasses. Cassandra’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. 

Liam with glasses. No, Liam wearing glasses. Full rimmed glasses that showed off his eyes. And framed his face. Good god, was he more handsome than he was this morning? 

Why is it suddenly warm in here?

“Cassie?” 

Cassandra blinked. Her brain scrambled to remember what was happening. Liam’s face seemed closer than before. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Concern was shining through his eyes.

His eyes, warm and brown and showcased through his glasses. Beautiful.

Focus!

“Are you all right?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh yeah. I’m–I’m fine,” her eyes darted around the room, finally settling on the old grandfather clock against the wall. “Oh, look at the time! It’s almost lunch! I’ll go alert the staff.”

Cassie quickly closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table before moving to stand. Liam laid a hand on her arm. 

“Are you sure, you’re all right?”

“Uh yeah. Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she paused long enough to see Liam hesitate. 

Oh.

She sat back down, took his hand in hers and smiled, “I’m not getting second thoughts, Liam. I just got, uh, a bit distracted, that’s all.”

Liam let out a breath. And smiled. It took all of Cassie’s willpower not to jump him right then and there. She moved to stand up again, this time dragging Liam with her.

“How about we talk about destinations over Sunday roast?”

-

Aunt Clara had the staff set up chairs and tables in the solarium. Far more personal and intimate than the rooms they’ve previously eaten in. As she and Liam stepped aside for one of the staff members, Cassie was suddenly hit with the thought that this might be her Auntie’s own little way of fully welcoming Liam in. Cassie smiled. 

“So… what were you say—“

“Mommy!” a little blur ran into the room and crashed into her legs. Surprised, Cassie stumbled back. Liam’s hands were suddenly there to support her. 

“Careful,” Liam said over her shoulder.

“Sorry Mommy!” their little terror said before zooming out again. The staff, all too used to Lucas’ hijinks, calmly stepped aside, indulgent smiles on their faces. 

“Okay, who gave him sugar this time?” Cassie demanded once she straightened up. Briar who had followed into the room shrugged and smiled, looking over her shoulder.

“Who indeed?”

Eyes wide with realisation, Cassie whirled around and glared at Liam. 

“You!” she gasped, jabbing a finger at him. Liam quickly stepped back and raised his hands, a placating gesture that she barely noticed. And to think she was swooning earlier! 

“I just gave him one cookie — “he quickly closed his mouth when she scowled. Cassie ignored the small burst of satisfaction at the sight. 

“You deal with him when he crashes from his sugar high.” She said as she crossed her arms.

Liam nodded quickly, his eyes wide. “Of course. Anything you need.”

Cassie’s heart melted. No! I’m annoyed! I should be annoyed!  She opened her mouth, ready to launch into a speech when her aunt’s voice stopped her.

“Am I interrupting?”

Cassie turned her head towards the doorway. From the corner of her eye, she saw Liam do the same. 

“Auntie!”

“Not at all, my lady, “Liam answered smoothly. A glance told her he had quickly regained some composure. Shit! I must look like a mess, came her flustered thought. 

“Well, if you say so…” her aunt trailed off. She shook her head. “Actually dear, can we pop into the study for a bit? I need to talk to you about something.”

At Cassie’s frown, she smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“I’ll go take care of Lucas,” Liam piped up beside her. He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze and took his leave with a smile to her and her aunt. 

Cassie spared a moment to watch him walk away. 

“He’s not going anywhere, you know,” her aunt’s words snapped Cassie out of her trance. Clara was wearing a teasing smirk when Cassandra looked at her aunt’s direction.

“I know that,” she mumbled as she turned and walked to her aunt’s side. “Did something happen?”

“In a manner of speaking,” her aunt replied as they walked towards the stairs. She smiled, the reassurance familiar as it was welcome. “I meant it when I said it’s nothing bad.” 

Her aunt walked into her study, making a beeline towards one of the display cases near the far wall. Cassie followed, confusion turning into apprehension. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Small, hesitant steps brought her a little closer. 

Aunt Clara now stood in front of a familiar set of jewellery. The Edgewater Jewels, one of her family’s sources of pride, glittered in the midmorning sunlight that streamed into the study. Whoever holds the jewels holds the very essence of Edgewater, her aunt used to joke. But Cassie knew that it was a saying that had been passed down from generation to generation. There was a reason most of the jewellery Gran left her were coloured gold and blue. It was part of their heritage. And it was usually entrusted to the heir of the estate. Which also meant heir to the title and all the holdings and responsibilities that come along with the honour. 

Cassie felt her eyes widen as she turned to her aunt. 

“Tell me that’s not what I think it means.”

Aunt Clara’s smile was small and sad. Like Gran’s all those years ago. But unlike her grandmother, who tucked her head and hidden away during a confrontation, Aunt Clara held her chin high and looked Cassie in the eye. Apprehension caused butterflies to flutter in Cassie’s stomach. Her gaze fell to the jewels, still glinting after centuries of use. 

“Can I at least tell you why?”

“Auntie—“ 

“I know you said you’d think about it. And I respect that, love. And I would have given you all the time that you need, but circumstances rarely go the way we want them to, you know that,” her aunt took a step towards her. Cassie felt rooted on the spot. “Please understand that I am not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do. What I want – what I’ve always wanted, is to protect you and Lucas. And short of prohibiting you to go, this is the best way I can think of.”

Aunt Clara was now standing in front of her. She gently took Cassandra’s hands. “Even if it’s just by name, I’d like you to be the heir to Edgewater.”

----

 The Duchy of Krona

“My lady, the media have been sending emails asking for an update on our monarch’s location,” Justin told her as she stepped out of the car. Suppressing the urge to sigh in exasperation, Kiara quickly composed herself and turned to her secretary. 

Be careful around that one, Olivia had told her. Since then, she had felt like she was walking on eggshells around her own secretary. It was an inconvenience, but better safe than sorry, as the old saying goes. Keeping her face blank, she took care in choosing her next words.

“Justin, I already told you to take care of that.”

He bobbed his head, making a great show of being contrite. “Yes, my lady. But they’ve been calling and asking nonstop—“

“Then tell them again. The King is currently engaged in an important diplomatic summit in Europe. And this time, remind them that due to the sensitive nature of such events, we can’t broadcast the specifics until His Majesty’s return.”

There was a flash of frustration in Justin’s face before he schooled his features. Frustration and something darker. Beneath her calm façade, Kiara felt cold. Olivia told her she and her network are working on discovering what’s really going on. But their investigation had yielded nothing substantial just yet. At least, not on that front. 

It couldn’t come soon enough.

Kiara swallowed her sudden fear and turned away, towards the main estate of House Amaranth. But it gave us an edge over Madeleine. 

She set a brisk pace, quickly reaching the entrance and the line of staff members that await her. Justin at her heels. Is that even your real name?

Kiara took another deep breath. No use in engaging in multiple fronts, as Olivia would say. If he is a player, he will soon make his move. But right now, it’s my turn.

-

Adelaide was the first one to greet her in the sitting room. The usual sparkle that the older woman used to exhibit had dimmed. Like a paper doll, she thought with a pang of pity. Kiara felt for the Duchess. We are not the only ones that Madeleine’s schemes had hurt. A pity it must end this way. 

Kiara stood up and offered a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

Adelaide offered her a smile that echoed her old one. “My lady. Despite current circumstances, I must say, I’m glad you came calling. Tea?”

Kiara smiled and nodded. This is my element. I can do this. And I will do this well.

“Yes, please.”

-

If the duchess seemed off when Kiara arrived, she was downright ashen when they finished their tea. A paper doll that’s about to be set alight. Oh, how I hate that it came to this!

Adelaide’s teacup rattled slightly as she set it on the table. She seemed to sag into her chair. Kiara kept her hands clasped together on her lap. She did not want to know if it trembled.

 Silence reigned between them. Kiara could hear the faint ticking of a clock. Unbidden, her gaze went to the window. Summer finally came. But why do I still feel cold? God, I wish Hana’s here.

“If — “Adelaide’s voice cut through the chasm between them. Kiara turned to face the duchess once more. “If what you say is true, my house will be in ruins,” she barked out a laugh. Kiara stared. Its cynical edge was so different from what she had previously known from the older woman. “More than it already is.”

Despite her training, Kiara longed to comfort the older woman. She’s always been kind to me, even before all this happened. Instead of the comforting hand that she wanted to extend, Kiara reached into her purse and pulled out a sealed envelope. Still keeping her silence, she slid it towards Adelaide’s direction. 

“I’m afraid that years of evidence proves its validity, Adelaide.”

The Duchess of Krona stared at the envelope in front of her. 

“Has the king been told?”

“… not yet.”

“But are you going to tell him?”

Kiara hesitated. “He has to know.”

“I suppose you want me to stop Madeleine’s campaign in exchange for his majesty’s continued ignorance?”

Kiara kept her face carefully blank. It may be diplomacy’s last tool, but I’ve never truly liked blackmail. And it was blackmail, no matter how much they’d like to sugar-coat it. 

“Nothing so drastic, Adelaide. I simply ask for a private audience with your daughter.”

“But you’re still going to tell Liam.” Defeat was written on the duchess’ shoulders.

Kiara softened her tone. “He has the right to know, my lady. And this would worsen if he found out that this had been hidden from him,” Kiara hesitated before going off the script that Olivia and Hana helped her write. “Liam is not his father.”

Adelaide looked up and met Kiara’s eyes, hesitation and cautious hope in her gaze. “He’ll see that you and your house have been unwitting accomplices. The fault lies with Godfrey.”

Adelaide hesitated. “And my daughter?”

Kiara sighed; her face the very picture of uncertainty, despite the satisfaction growing in her chest.

“That would depend on whether we meet and talk, Adelaide.”

The duchess straightened in her seat.  

“Very well. You’ll have your meeting.” She moved to stand up. “I do hope you succeed. For all our sakes.” 

----

The Royal Palace

Hana quickly tossed aside the papers she had been reviewing when she saw her phone light up. Ignoring the quizzical looks that Olivia and Leo sent her, she quickly seized her phone and opened it.

“It’s Kiara!” Her two companions paused in their respective tasks. “She’s in!” Hana announced into the room. 

“Good,” Olivia said, a smirk blooming on her face. “And the secretary?”

Hana scanned the message, “she sent him off on another task. She and Madeleine would be alone.”

“What happens now?” Leo asked as he began to pace the room. “Was the bastard there?” he spat out.

“She didn’t say…” Hana trailed off. 

“That would mean he’s still in his estates in the UK,” Olivia quickly cut in. Yesterday’s revelation had shaken them to the core, Leo most of all. Despite being her stepson, Leo had spent more time with Eleanor than Liam. She had practically raised him even before she had married Constantine. She was the woman he recognised as his mother. And to find that her killer had walked free for years… Katie and Olivia had barely stopped him from going after Godfrey. To say the last twenty-four hours had been fraught would be an understatement.

The older Rys grunted in acknowledgement before starting another round of agitated pacing. Like a lion in a cage, she thought before turning her attention back to Olivia. 

“Should we tell Liam now?” she asked softly.

“We should have told him as soon as we confirmed it,” Leo grumbled before Olivia answered her.

“And we will tell him. Preferably in person,” Olivia retorted. Hana opened her mouth to agree with the duchess when her phone rang again. She stared at the screen, apprehension filling her. 

“It’s Liam,” she announced. Olivia and Leo froze. 

“Answer it, Hana,” Leo said urgently. The unanswered question hung in the air. Does he know?

“Put it on speaker,” Olivia quickly added.

With fingers that trembled slightly, she answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hana!” Liam’s voice seemed to cement them in place. Faintly, they could hear a child’s laughter in the background. The three of them looked at each other, wide-eyed and on the verge of panic. Her heart was beating so fast, she was half afraid it would burst out of her chest. For one brief moment, Hana scrambled for a scrap of composure.

She managed a soft “Your Majesty” before another voice snapped her out of the stupor she was falling into. 

“… Lucas!”

Hana straightened. “Was that—?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! That was Cassie. Would you like to say hi?”

“Oh! Oh, um—“she cast another wide-eyed look around the room, their conversation before weighing on them. Olivia hesitated, but Leo took a step forward. Before either of them managed a word, Liam’s voice unknowingly interrupted them. 

“Lucas, don’t—“Hana and the others could just make out the sound of a splash. A scuffling sound followed. 

“Liam?” Confusion mixed with the apprehension inside her.

There was a pause. The three of them barely breathed. 

“Hana, are you still there?” Liam’s voice sounded harried this time. “I’m so sorry, but I have to cut this short. Cassie’s got Lucas inside. Maybe you two can talk some other time? Maybe later?”

“Oh! That’s fine. What happened? If I might ask.”

Liam’s voice was tinged with amusement when he answered, “He crashed his bike into the lake.”

Hana smiled. 

“That’s not why I called though,” Hana suddenly felt cold. All too aware of the vacant seat that Kiara used to occupy. Does he know? The anxious thought circled her mind once more. And judging by the way Olivia and Leo hung on Liam’s next words, she wasn’t the only one. 

How do you tell one of your closest friends that you’ve uncovered the culprit behind his mother’s death?

“Can you book a flight to London tomorrow? Cassie and I need your expertise on something.”

-

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Olivia insisted. Hana completely agrees with her. Across the table, with arms crossed and agitated, Leo glared at the both of them. 

“He’s my brother,” Leo insisted. “What we found here should come from me, Olivia. You know that.”

“For the last time, I’m not saying you can’t tell Liam, I’m saying you can’t go!” Olivia snapped as she stood up. Hana could feel a headache forming around her temples. 

“Besides, we don’t know what Liam and Cassandra need me for,” Hana added before her companion’s agreement turned into a shouting match. 

“That’s obvious, he’s planning on bringing her and my nephew back here.”

“You don’t know that,” Hana countered, taking care to soften her tone. The last thing she needs is for this to escalate.

Olivia shook her head, “He’s got a point.” Leo opened his mouth, intent on driving his point home and getting his way. Olivia fixed him with a glare and added, “Which is why Hana has to go.”

“Olivia—“

“No.”

“But—“

“We need you here,” Olivia went on. “Abdicated or not, you’re the last adult Rys in the palace. You lend some legitimacy over our orders, so unless you want to tell your brother how you’ve disregarded his instructions, you will stay here.”

Leo scowled. He glanced at Hana, silently asking for support. Hana pursed her lips and shook her head. He slumped in his seat. 

“Besides, Rashad’s also going on a business trip. People won’t think it’s strange that I boarded a plane with him.”

Leo scowled as he looked out the window. 

Hana and Olivia shared a glance, a question between them. A moment passed, and Olivia shrugged. My move then. She glanced at Leo’s still sullen form. Compromise it is.

“I won’t tell Liam until you could, Leo. I promise.”

----

Leo kept looking through the window even after Hana and Olivia had left. Yesterday’s events played on a loop in his mind. It’s been decades, I thought I’d gotten over this. 

But Leo could still remember the sinking feeling of watching the woman he’d known as his mother gasp for breath. Could still recall the frantic rush to her side, the way her hands had gone limp, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the cold sterile hospital. He could still remember, with frightening clarity, how Liam, still a little kid really, looked so lost when the doctors announced that there was nothing they could do. The way his little brother curled up in his arms, shaking and sobbing when it finally sunk in. The funeral and the empty years; years that Eleanor Rys should have lived if not for some heartless bastard and an innocent little goblet.

And to find that the bastard who did this to her was under their noses this whole time? That he had been one of Constantine’s cronies? Rage could hardly describe what Leo had felt. He wanted to get out there and catch him. Make him pay for what he did. 

Katie had been nearly reduced to tears before he had agreed to stay and wait. Leo had agreed reluctantly, remembering his past sins. But his urge to do something, anything at all, remains bubbling under the surface, just waiting for the smallest push. Liam’s phone call had been the prime opportunity. But Olivia’s threat and his past regrets kept him again. Liam missed four years of his son’s life while he had gallivanted around the world. The least he can do is stay in Cordonia and do what Liam wanted them to do. 

This doesn’t mean I still can’t make Godfrey pay. I’ll –

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Before he could stand up and open it, Bertrand Beaumont had stepped inside the room, head held high and nose in the air. Leo resisted the urge to correct his posture. 

“Your—“

“Bertrand, please. Don’t call me that.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The older man nodded and adjusted his cuff. Posture perfect and correct. Leave it to Bertrand to disguise awkwardness with a dignified response. 

“I came here as fast as I could,” Bertrand said as he stepped into the room. Remembering the discreet conversation he had with Liam about the Beaumont’s finances, Leo kept silent. Bertrand dislikes showing weakness, especially among his peers.

“You’d want to see Maxwell then?”

At Bertrand’s nod, Leo stood up and walked towards one of his oldest friends. He clasped Bertrand’s shoulder and tried to give him a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to work. Leo tried not to take it personally. 

“Let’s go then,” Leo paused just beyond the threshold. “Although, word of advice? Go easy on him.”

Leo wants nothing more than to find Godfrey and make him pay, but he’ll be damned if he lets Liam down again.

-

“Let me get this straight, you knew where Lady Savannah was this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” Standing with his back against the wall, Leo heaved a sigh. What part of go easy did you not understand Bertie?

Maxwell opened his mouth once more to answer his brother and winced as he did so. Leo saw him rub his bruised jaw. Bertrand, still pacing and getting red in the face, did not stop his tirade to listen. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? Of all the—”

Leo thinks he saw the moment Maxwell snapped. The younger man stood, squared his shoulders, and whirled around to face his brother.

“I had to help her, Bertrand! She was pregnant with my nephew!”

Leo suppressed the urge to whistle. I really shouldn’t be part of this conversation. He glanced at the closed door behind Bertrand. But I can’t walk out without disturbing these two. 

“I—your what?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bertie so speechless! Maxwell, emboldened by his brother’s response, continued.

“Savannah was pregnant with your child when she ran away. She said you rejected her!”

“I — “Bertrand seemed to have completely lost his composure. He reached out and clutched the back of the chaise lounge. His knuckles were white. 

I really shouldn’t be here…

Leo looked away from the brothers. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated the courtyard below. He felt a smile creep onto his face. The twins were out and about. Sabrina, his eldest by a whole ten minutes, was busy drawing the various blossoms in the flower beds. Mother loved those flowers too…

Leo shook his head, half hoping the physical act would also shake off his thoughts. He immediately sought his youngest, a reflex he had developed as soon as they started toddling around. Samantha was bending over the fountain, no doubt looking at the pennies on the bottom. He wanted to name them after Eleanor, but he knew that Liam deserved that honour. Besides, they are named after her, in a way. Middle names are the same thing, right?

A sudden noise interrupted his thoughts. He turned to look at the Brothers Beaumont again. Bertrand was sitting in the lounge. Maxwell looked uncertain. 

Leo opened his mouth to suggest drinks, but a knock interrupted him. All three of them turned toward the sound. 

Leo stepped forward. 

“Come in.”

The door opened and a woman wearing a nondescript suit poked her head in. It took a moment for Leo to put a name to the face. 

“Agent Mara, what is it?”

“Sir, someone’s looking for you at the gates. She said you were expecting her.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Leo stepped forward. At the corner of his eye, he could see Bertrand and Maxwell carefully turn around, giving him as much privacy as the room could afford. Gratitude for the brothers bubbled in his chest.

“Who is it?”

Mara hesitated. 

“Well?”

“She-she told us her name was Cordelia, sir. Cordelia Foredale.”

----

East Wing, the Royal Palace

“How’re your knuckles?”

Drake grunted as Savannah, who did not wait for his answer, grabbed his right hand and inspected his yellowing bruise. 

“Are you talking to me now?” he said, immediately regretting his words. Savannah had all but ignored him after he punched Maxwell. A glare was the answer he received. Drake sighed.

He can’t help but feel like everyone was blaming him for one thing or another. Bastien was ignoring his calls, a sure sign that the older man was annoyed at him, while Olivia was pissed at him (nothing new but this one was on him, he’ll readily admit that). He knew he abandoned his assigned duties, so their reaction was a bitter pill that he had to swallow.

Hana and Kiara were keeping their distance, but he knew that they sided with Maxwell, and Leo’s accusing stare was directed at him and Maxwell both. So he can live with that. What stings the most was that Savannah was mad at him and his nephew (he has a nephew!) was wary around him. 

And Liam’s out of the country, probably getting cosy with Angeles…

The pain in his knuckles snapped him from his thoughts. Drake was almost glad for it. 

There’s a very big chance that Cassandra will come back into their lives. Drake doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the very thought of her sent tingles down his spine (he ignored them as he had four years ago), and on the other, she’s probably coming back with Liam. Try as he might, that old, buried and suppressed pangs of jealousy had reared its ugly head once more. 

There was a mention of a little boy too. Their boy, if he got that right. Drake refused to acknowledge the knot of emotions he felt at the thought.

I could really use a drink right now.

“Done.” In a flash, Savannah had stood up and walked away from him. Drake could make out Bartie’s head as it poked out of an open doorway.

He inspected the bandage on his hand.

“Thanks, sis,” he said into the empty room. 

----

Meanwhile, in Fydelia

To an outsider’s perspective, it did not look like a stand-off. Just two ladies having tea on a balcony. Sophistication at its finest. From a young age, they have been taught how to disguise negotiations as pleasant small talk. How silence can answer a question as well as any given answer. They had been taught how to be graceful swans on the outside, never letting slip the machinations that lurked underneath their perfect façade. 

A pale delicate hand calmly picked up her teacup, raised it to her scarlet stained lips and took a dainty sip. Kiara’s well-trained eyes observed the movement and catalogued it in her mind. It seemed like her hostess would insist on some juvenile power play right off the bat. Kiara took in Madeleine’s demeanour; shoulders back and chin lifted. Smug despite her courtly mask. 

She thinks, because I came to her first, that she has the upper hand, Kiara thought, amused at the thought. Whatever pity she might have felt for the mother, unfortunately, did not extend to the daughter. Adelaide might have been an unwitting victim in this scenario, but we all knew that Madeleine’s actions are her own. She knew what she was doing from the start. And for whatever reason, she made herself believe that she can win in this hopeless endeavour. Kiara took another moment to study the Countess by taking a sip of her own tea. Let Madeleine think she has me on the ropes. What exactly were you hoping to accomplish from all of this?

 “I do hope the tea is to your liking, Lady Kiara. I seem to recall you favour the more traditional favours?”

“The tea and the service is, as always, perfectly adequate, my lady,” Kiara demurred, taking silent satisfaction with the way Madeleine’s lips twisted at the insult. Ever the perfectionist.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I find myself tired of courtly games lately,” Madeleine said, annoyance clear in her eyes. Whatever happened to patience Madeleine? Kiara’s quite certain that amusement was clear in her eyes. 

“Well?” Madeleine snapped. For a moment, Kiara remembered all those uncertain hours under her thumb. Of all the times the woman before took genuine pleasure at breaking Hana apart at the seams. You’ll never see so much as the shine off the crown if I had anything to say about it.

Kiara raised an eyebrow. Madeleine’s own sculpted eyebrows started to furrow. What? Did you think I came all this way to hand you your imagined victory?

“I came to do you a favour actually,” Kiara answered coolly. 

Madeleine scoffed. “And what favour is that exactly? From where I’m standing, you and yours are the ones who need a favour,” Madeleine barred her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Has the King gotten so desperate that he sent one of his lackeys to grovel at my feet?” She leaned back, comfortably rearranging herself on her chair, the picture of smug satisfaction. “Well, tell him, he has to be the one doing the grovelling. The satisfaction would be sweeter when I personally reject it.” 

Kiara calmly sipped her tea, letting Madeleine have her brief moment of glory. Well, a supposed moment of glory, she amended in her head. 

A moment passed. Uncertainty entered Madeleine’s eyes. 

“Are you done?” Kiara asked calmly. My turn.

Madeleine opened her mouth to retort, but Kiara did not give her a chance. 

“If you want the continued existence of your House and holdings, you will cease this meaningless smear campaign at once.”

Anger flashed across Madeleine’s features. She opened her mouth once more. Kiara forged on, smoothly reaching into her bag and taking the same envelope that she had presented to Adelaide mere hours ago. She laid it on the table with a flourish. 

“And what’s this?” Madeleine asked, her anger temporarily curbed. 

“Why don’t you take a peak?”

“If this is some hare-brained scheme of Liam’s—“

“Just read the contents, Madeleine,” Kiara said, her voice curt. 

The countess snatched the envelope up. Her face paled at what she read. Madeleine’s porcelain hands held a small tremble when she set it down again. 

“You have already hurt your standing in the nobility’s eyes when you started this campaign. And while free speech is a right that is encouraged in this kingdom, I doubt you’ll be thrilled if we use that self-same right to reveal what your father did to Queen Eleanor all those years ago. Treason is a heavier stain on one’s reputation than mere rumours, is it not?”

Madeleine did not answer. Her eyes were still fixed on the envelope’s contents.

Kiara allowed herself a small smile, “luckily the king and his brother are generous enough to give you a warning.” She leaned forward, now on the offence. “But let me make myself clear. Continue in this ridiculous charade and the court, not to mention the entire world, will know just how many skeletons your father hides.”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Madeleine interjected.

“Perhaps,” Kiara allowed. “But with your well-known outbursts and the campaign, do you think the world will care?”

“They will if they know what’s good for them. The media—“

“Has grown tired of you,” Kiara finished. “After all, all you’ve ever given them are rumours. Were you ever planning on following the story through? Or did you just expect the media to fawn and fall at your feet like when you were still on top?”

“I—“

Now for my gambit.

“Face it, Madeleine. You’ve lost your crown. Do you really want the whole world to see you lose your dignity and your House?”

Green eyes set in a paper pale face stared at her. And for the first time since meeting her, Kiara had the genuine pleasure of seeing Madeleine speechless.

“And we don’t want that, do we? After all, this would mean the total collapse of House Amaranth. All those centuries of prestige reduced to mere rubble by you.”

“Now see here—“

“I really don’t think you have any bargaining chip left, my lady,” Kiara directed a smile at Madeleine’s direction. 

“W-what do you want from me?” Madeleine asked, voice cracking. Her whole body was shaking. A stone statue crumbling before Kiara’s eyes.

“I tire of this courtly game,” Kiara countered. Madeleine flinched. “I think you know exactly what we want, Madeleine. Redact your statements, issue a formal apology and stop your hopeless campaign once and for all.”

“My reputation—“

“Is already in shambles. Imagine what would happen if this got out.”

Kiara stood up, smoothly plucking the folder from Madeleine’s hands.

“My people will be in touch,” she said as she walked out. She paused at the entrance of the balcony. “See? I am doing you a favour.”

 She spared a moment to glance at her fallen opponent. Madeleine barely moved, except for a tiny nod. Her head barely moved, but it was enough. She had accepted the deal. Defeat seemed to be settling on the Countess’ shoulders. Kiara whirled around, a smile tugging at her face.

Checkmate.

----

The Royal Palace

Leo strode through one of the palace’s corridors, Agent Mara a step behind. Questions without answers whirled round and round in his head. Why here? Why now? What now? What does she want?

Leo scowled as he entered the lower levels of the palace. Old stone, centuries-old and cool to the touch, replaced the gilt and glamour of the upper levels. Leo repressed a shiver. It was always cool down here, and it will get colder the farther they descend. Harsh fluorescent lights replaced the torches used centuries ago, but they remain along the walls, a reminder of the Palace’s real age. It was older than it looked. 

Generations of constant rebuilding had changed the façade of the one above ground. It is only when you get down to the lower levels, to the underbelly, that you remember that the Palace stands where an old medieval keep once stood. There had even been stories, mere fancy really, that Kenna Rys, their mythical ancestor, had once used the old keep as a base during one war or another. Liam’s always the one who paid attention to those.

At the thought of his brother, Leo’s mood turned sombre, more contemplative. 

First, we discover Constantine’s secrets, then Liam finds out he has a long-lost son, then this whole business between Drake and Maxwell, I find out fucking Godfrey’s behind Mother’s death and now this? It’s barely been a month!

Another agent greeted them when they reached the end of a corridor. Leo knew from growing up in the palace that they had her inside an interrogation room. Leo could feel his heart beating hard. He rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants before taking a deep breath and nodding to one of the agents. 

They opened the door.

Leo gulped. 

He took a tentative step. And then another. 

He was standing at the threshold.

Taking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

-

Leo had been told from a young age that he looked like his mother. That the only thing he had inherited from his father was his blue eyes. 

Beyond hazy recollections that were carelessly dismissed in favour of more fond memories of Eleanor and baby Liam, Leo had next to no memory of what his birth mother looked like. When he met her again after twenty-odd years, her hair was more grey than blonde, her hazel eyes were surrounded by crows feet that made him wonder if she had been happier during the years she kept away compared to the years she had spent with him and his father. She had constantly looked down when he met her again, all those years ago. Had barely raised neither eyes nor voice when he had proclaimed a dead woman to be the mother he preferred. She had just nodded and asked in a small voice to see the occasional picture of him and the twins. Aside from lukewarm emails and the occasional promised picture, she had stayed away, as she had for most of his life. Leo preferred it that way, if he was being honest with himself.

After meeting with Clara Harper, Leo could see some faint echo, the barest hint of resemblance on their features. Unlike his, no – their — distant cousin, Cordelia held none of the iron spine that defined his—their – relative. If Clara was grace, poise and eloquence, able to command a room, her distant family member was the silent one. 

But, Leo conceded, she had been high spirited once. During their father’s social season. She had enough charm and energy once. At least enough to secure her place as Constantine’s bride.

Looking at the woman sitting opposite him, Leo couldn’t help but wonder if Constantine was the reason Cordelia retreated into herself. He won’t be surprised if that was the case. 

His birth mother rose from her seat when she saw him enter the room. She was a short woman. The few pictures he saw growing up featured a delicate, petite woman, more doll than human. A perfect accessory for this father to dangle on his arms. Now, she seemed to fold into herself, as if trying to make herself smaller. 

“Leo,” she breathed. “You came.” A tentative smile bloomed on her face. There was a touch of relief in the curve of her lips. 

“I did,” Leo stepped further into the room. “I wasn’t expecting you’d come here.” Wasn’t expecting you’d want to come back.

“Yes – well, the email you sent me— “she abruptly stopped. Her eyes darted around the room. Wary and watchful. Fearful too, Leo saw with a pang. Damn you, old man. 

“It’s fine,” Leo assured her. “We’re safe here.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that,” she muttered. “Can we talk somewhere more open? I don’t do so well underground.”

“I— “Leo furrowed his eyebrows. Cordelia had no problems underground, nor was she claustrophobic. “All right.”

-

They ended up on the banks of the little lake, just past the gardens that Eleanor so loved. It somehow felt wrong to take her to the place that Leo had always associated with Eleanor. 

The late afternoon sun was on its way to twilight, but there was still enough light that the path lights hadn’t been lit yet. 

He glanced at his birth mother. Silence mixed with awkwardness hung in the air between them. He cleared his throat. 

“You aren’t really claustrophobic are you?”

She shook her head.

“So… why exactly—“

“I thought it would be safer this way,” she answered in a rush, her voice coming out stronger than it had before. 

Suspicion rose within Leo. 

“Why?”

“You never know who’s listening,” she said lightly, expression turning pleasant. “Will you walk with me? Just around the lake.”

“Who would want to listen?” Leo asked even as he walked along with her. “We’re at the heart of the palace. That was the safest we can be.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“I — “Leo thought of Kiara’s secretary. 

Cordelia nodded, interpreting his expression.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though.”

“I thought it would be safer to talk in person. Emails and phone calls can be easily traced.”

“Right,” Leo mumbled. He glanced at Cordelia again. “We –uh – found Edgewater on our own…” he trailed off. 

Cordelia smiled, “I know.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed.

“I saw the pictures from the state dinner. It’s been years but I still know how Cousin Clara looked like.”

“Oh.”

“I hope she’s well?”

“Last I saw her, yeah,” Leo looked around. The shadows were getting longer. “She found your diary, by the way.”

Cordelia startled, “She did?”

Leo nodded then added, “Liam and I read it.”

“So… you know.”

“Is that why you came here?”

She hesitated, but she nodded.

“Is that why you left?”

“Among other things.”

“Right.”

“How did he manage it, by the way?”

“Manage what?”

Leo shrugged, “all of it? How did people not know what was happening?”

“Simple,” Cordelia said as she looked up. “Panem et circenses. The people were placated because he provided them with bread and entertainment. Constantine spearheaded casinos, increased the economy, and kept all the bloodstains behind closed doors. That was his greatest genius, really.”

“And no one noticed?”

“He was quick to silence those who did.”

A moment passed. They have reached the other end of the lake now. Cordelia had stopped walking. Leo turned to face her. The afternoon had finally fallen into twilight.

 “Speaking of, did you come across the Severus clan when you read it?”

“Is that the one where he ordered a whole line killed?”

“… yes.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“There’s a group that formed right after you were born. They called themselves The Sons of Earth. Have you heard of them?” At the shake of Leo’s head, she continued. “I’m not surprised. They were just starting out when I left.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Cordelia turned and looked Leo in the eye, “because I fear that Constantine’s actions have caught up with us all.”

----

Edgewater the next day

A three-hour flight and an uneasy night spent in London, Hana was finally afforded her first glimpse of Edgewater. Her research into the Countess’ family revealed that the estate had been in their family for almost as long as their line had existed. A part of her relished the chance to visit a historical site with such deep and tangible roots (their collection of art and other artefacts alone would be enormous! Hana felt giddy just thinking about it). Another part was almost jumping up and down in excitement at the thought of seeing her first true friend once more. It was almost enough to drown the small part of her that wonders whether Liam already knew the truth. The presence of Bastien at the entrance did not help soothe her nerves. 

The car slowed to a stop. Bastien walked over and opened the car door, offering a hand as he did so. Hana hesitated for a moment, doubts swirling around her mind, before taking Bastien’s hand and stepping out of the car. 

One of the staff members must have been waiting on the other side of the doors as it swung open when she had finally righted herself. She could make out a line of staff through the doorway. Her promise to Leo rang in her mind once more.

With one final glance around the lush grounds and the impressive estate (Georgian, she noted with interest), Hana took a deep breath and stepped forward, through the threshold and into Edgewater.

Hana would be the first to admit that she had always viewed Cassandra through rose-tinted lenses. She was Hana’s first true friend, the woman who helped her stand up for herself. Cassie was the adventurous sister she had always wanted. And for a few short months, they had been sisters in all but blood.

Now, four years and a whole other set of separate experiences later, Hana once again meets Cassandra. Her hair’s shorter, Hana thought absently. The face that stared back at her was slightly more mature than the one she remembered. Hana only had the chance to observe those things as Cassandra, who spotted her as soon as she entered, broke into a smile and all but bounded over to give Hana a big hug. Hana hugged her tightly back, a smile blooming on her own face. It was the reunion that she had envisioned all these years.

“Hana! I missed you so much!”

“Oh, Cassie! I missed you too!”

-

Lucas may look like the spitting image of his father, but Hana can’t help but see the Cassie in him. He was an inquisitive child, bursting with questions and with enough energy to drive Hana dizzy after a time. 

He had been a little hesitant when they had finally been introduced. He had been head peeking behind Liam’s legs when Cassie and Hana had reunited (At last! After four long years!) but he had warmed up to her when Cassie introduced her as a dear friend.

“Do you like cookies?” the little boy (the little prince!) asked Hana during a rare moment of silence. He stared at her with Liam’s eyes and with Cassie’s smile. The perfect little blend of her two dearest friends. She thought of the discoveries done in Cordonia, both before and after he arrived in their lives. Her heart went out to this little boy. Your grandfather’s actions have hurt so many. He unknowingly hurt you too…

“I – yes, I like cookies.”

He beamed at her, and Hana returned it with a smile of her own. How could she not?

“Me too!” he held out a chocolate chip cookie with a noticeable bite at its side. “D’you want one?”

Despite the apprehension that took root inside her, Hana let out a laugh.

“I’d like that very much.”

-

“So you’re telling me—“

Hana nodded. Cassie clapped both hands to her mouth as she gasped.

“Hana!” she squealed.

Hana blushed and quickly hushed Cassandra while she looked around the empty garden.

“But this is huge!” Cassie protested.

“It’s not a big deal,” Hana said softly, almost mumbling.

“But you and Kiara!”

Hana smiled despite herself.

“Oh, you got it bad,” Cassie teased.

Hana suppressed a snort. “Like you’re one to talk.”

Cassie laughed, loud and whole-bodied. Hana’s restraint lasted for one second before she gave in and joined the laughter.

A throat clearing behind them put a stop to their revelry. They both whirled around to see Liam smiling at them both.

“Is he down?” Cassie asked.

“After putting up a good fight, yes.”

Cassie raised her eyebrows, her smile quickly turning into a smirk. “You didn’t bribe him, did you?”

Liam scoffed, his smile turning bigger, “I’ve been schooled in diplomacy since birth, Cassie. I don’t need to resort to bribery just to get my son to take a nap.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, “uh-huh…”

Now this feels familiar, Hana thought, amused.

“… fine. He will definitely ask to sleep in my room later. I might have promised to build a pillow fort with him.”

Cassie laughed, and Hana couldn’t help but join in. The day was devoid of the heavy clouds one usually associates with London. There was a pleasant breeze, bringing with it the perfume of the blossoms scattered about the garden. Halcyon days, Hana thought with a heavy feeling in her stomach. So rare and so brief. And I might have brought disaster with me…

----

Edgewater, night time

Aunt Clara’s office was bathed in shadows. The moon, barely visible over the top of the trees, did not offer much in the way of illumination. Not tonight, anyway. The fireplace was cold and empty, and only a couple of lamps kept total darkness at bay. Despite the hindrances that the dark might have presented, Cassandra was able to navigate her way through the room. 

A few portraits of their ancestors were displayed on the walls; Auntie always liked landscapes better. Cassandra could almost feel the weight of their stares. It made the humid air feel heavier than it should be. 

Her eyes landed on the jewels. It had been taken out of the display box for its cleaning. Now they were placed on the desk, in a bed of soft cloth, under the watchful eyes of one Clara Mills-Sinclaire. Her portrait looked nothing like her Aunt Clara, of course, but the way they lifted their chin and stared defiantly at the world echoed each other. Nestled on her ancestor’s head was the same tiara on the desk before her.

Cassie looked down at the jewels once more. Such a small thing, to carry so much history. Cassandra looked up at the portrait again. You didn’t run when the responsibility fell on you. She thought of her son, asleep and snug in his father’s arms. Cassandra wants more nights like that. Her family together. She eyed the jewels again, resolve building itself inside her. I don’t want to run anymore.

With trembling hands, she hesitantly reached for the tiara. Carefully, feeling the weight of her ancestors on her, she lifted the tiara and slowly, delicately placed it on her head. It was lighter than she had expected. Moments passed, and she chanced a look at a nearby mirror. Cassie stared. The tiara had fit her perfectly. 

----

Cordonia the next day

Still flush from her victory over Madeleine, Kiara strode through the corridors that led to her office. That’s one obstacle out of the way. Although, I suspect Liam would want a chat with Adelaide…

A glance towards her secretary’s desk told her that Justin, or whatever his name actually is, hasn’t arrived yet. The morning sunlight made the room glow. Outside, the sky was clear, and she had removed a thorn on their side. Things are looking up and Hana’s set to come back with Liam and Lady Cassandra in the evening. Perhaps they will bring their son with them…

With a smile, Kiara opened the door to the office.

She froze.

Leaning over her desk, papers and other state documents in hand, was her secretary. He looked up as she entered, face twisted in a snarl. 

For a moment they stood still, surprise making them freeze in place. 

Kiara stood still, rooted on the spot, heart thundering in her chest. Justin held her gaze, something dark and sinister in his eyes.

Then time seemed to move once more, faster than it usually is.

Kiara tried to step backwards, perhaps hoping to gain more ground before the predator pounced. 

But Justin was faster.

In a flash, he had leapt across the table, scattering papers and other knick-knacks as he did so. Kiara faintly heard a glass scatter on the floor.

Before she could do more than stumble back, Justin was on her.

Something flashed silver before pain erupted on her side. Something heavy collided with her head. 

The world seemed to blur. Sound seemed to fade.

The last thing she saw before her face met the floor was a pair of angry dark eyes, and a smile that resembled a snarl.

----

Gatwick Airport, England

The walls were too white. The room was too bright. Liam resisted the urge to pace. A hand on his back made him tense. A whiff of jasmine caught his attention.

Tension bled out of his body. Her arms wrap around him. He could feel her warmth on his back. Her head barely reached his shoulders.

“Breathe, Liam.”

He did as she asked. He’ll always do as she asked.

He gently turned around and wrapped his own arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. For a moment the world seemed to quiet down.

“Better?”

Liam leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cassandra’s lips.

“Much.”

They both looked up as the PA announced their flight was ready. Reluctantly, they untangled themselves from each other. Liam scooped up his son’s sleepy form from one of the lounge chairs. His movement caused Hana to wake up from the nap Cassie suggested. He glanced around the private lounge. All their bags were already on the royal jet.

His eyes landed on Cassandra. He saw her spare one last look through the lounge’s window, a faraway look in her eyes. She pocketed her phone, grasped her trusty messenger bag (the one she had since before they met) and took a deep breath.

Liam crossed the distance between them and reached for her hand. She took it and laced their fingers together.

With one hand holding the love of his life and the other supporting his sleeping son, Liam walked towards the boarding gates.

----

The Dowager Queen

The setting sun caused shadows to stretch across the tarmac. Inside the tinted limousine, the Queen Mother heaved a sigh. The day had been taken a turn that none of them had expected. At least Liam’s finally coming back.

To be honest, Regina was a bit hurt that Liam had not deigned to inform her he was travelling out of the country or the reason behind it. Even an informal email would have done. Or any form of message really, however impersonal it may have looked.  She was probably the last person to find out he had gone. I can’t say I can fault him for that. Not after years of passive non-action from my end.

But still…

Regina firmly reigned her thoughts in. She will take what she can salvage from their relationship. After all, she got along with Liam better than she did with Leo. She already made the mistake of being cold towards Katie when they first met and that resulted in her not meeting her grandchildren when they were born. She won’t make the same mistake this time.

But then again, it helps that Liam chose a more competent lady than Leo, circumstances aside. Lady Cassandra could have done well in court, had she stayed all those years ago. Had Constantine not let his paranoia rule him.

No matter. I’ll gladly welcome Liam’s long-lost son and his lady love. It’s the least she can do, really. Besides, Regina liked the idea of more grandchildren. Thank goodness Leo was more flexible in that matter. She had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with his twin daughters.

Regina smiled. Such precocious children! She had already made plans to introduce darling Sabrina to Joelle. Such talent should be encouraged and fostered. And from what she and her staff had gathered from the English Ambassador, Liam’s son – Lucas — was also a bright boy. Regina looks forward to meeting him in person this time.

The shadows lengthened as the sun sunk lower. The royal jet should be near now. Shadows and the twilight had always reminded her of her late husband. Shadows especially.

Oh Connie, so much has been lost because you were afraid. We could have seen our grandchildren grow up together. Your son would have had more time with his own son.

Four years ago

Constantine had been more stubborn than usual. It was so unlike him to get worked up on courtly intrigue, since he usually left such things under her purview.

“But the media’s focused on the engagement right now. I don’t see any harm in letting her come back. It was a misunderstanding at most. I’ll even take her under my wing—“

“No.”

“But Liam—“

“Would be better off if he focused on his own engagement tour. Bringing her back would only distract him.”

She looked at her husband in astonishment, “have you seen how he is right now? Constantine, your son is falling apart! Bringing Lady Cassandra back would do him good. It’s not as if they can change the engagement now—“

Constantine slammed his fist on the desk. Regina jumped, then froze. His eyes were cold with a fury that she had only heard of years ago. Fear churned inside her.

“I said no, Regina! And that is final!”

She had not tried to change his mind since. Not even when she saw how Liam struggled with juggling the crown and his own heartache. And while a part of her felt reassured that Madeleine was chosen as queen once more, it is becoming quickly overshadowed by concern as she watched cracks appear on Liam’s mask. She had tried to offer whatever comfort Liam would accept from her. It helped salvage her relationship with her stepson.

It did not help her relationship with her husband on the other hand.

But she dared not oppose Constantine too much. She knew the fate of his previous wives all too well. And she won’t be any help to Liam or to anybody if she joined that exclusive club. She knew what she married, after all. Or at least some part of it. She dared not look further, dared not put a toe out of line. Scared to peer into the shadow and see what lurked within.

The approaching jet snapped Regina from her musing. She smiled. As the jet landed, and the doors opened and she stepped out of the car, Regina resolves that she’ll do better this time. After all, this is a chance she dared not waste.

#

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[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 2

A/N: Here is Chapter 2 everyone! Thanks to those of you who have so kindly read and supported the first chapter. I want to apologize in advance if the formatting might be a little wonky. This is my first time publishing a chapter on my iPad, so hopefully it’s not too bad. I tried editing as best as I could, but please spare me if there are errors. I came to Brazil for vacation and I’m trying to write/edit in my spare time. Currently it’s 1AM in Brazil and I just felt like I needed to finish this chapter and publish it. Anyway, enough rambling, here is Chapter 2. Also, real quick, this might feel like a filler chapter/not important, but there are key elements here that will come into play later on. Okay? Cool. Happy reading!

WARNINGS: None

When the idea came to you to you, the result you got was not at all what you expected.

You managed to sneak a peak at Chanyeol´s door code the last time you came over to his place for a night of passionate sex. You didn’t plan on coming here often or anything weird like that. But you knew Chanyeol had been having long and tiring days at work and practice, so you just wanted to do something nice for him.

You had dressed up and made some food for him to have at his apartment. You don’t know how he had such a nice body when all he ́d do is eat out and eat ramen at home. You went over to his apartment when you knew he ́d be at band practice. You cleaned up a bit and put some of the food away in the fridge while the rest you started to reheat so it´d be ready by the time he got home.

“You scared me!” You piped as you grabbed a cloth towel and wiped up the bit of mess you made when you dropped the spoon.

“How did you get in my apartment?” His tone had not relaxed and you noticed how upset he looked, which made your stomach drop.

“I saw you punch in your code once and I remembered it. I know you’ve been busy and tired lately, so I wanted to surprise you.” You watched his face as his eyes scanned what was visible of his apartment from where you two were standing.

“I may be tired but I don’t need you to come here and cook or clean for me.” He brushed past you as he made his way to his bathroom, getting ready for a shower.

“You don’t want to eat? The soup is warm.” You said softly, trying to ease his mood.

“I ate already.” Was his only reply as he slammed the door of his bathroom shut.

You stood there for a moment, to see if he would come out of the bathroom and say he was joking. But once you heard the water turn on and his Bluetooth speaker started blaring some heavy metal song, your initial embarrassment turned into anger.

Taking off the apron around your waist, you huffed in annoyance at his attitude. He could’ve at least been a bit grateful! Sure coming to his house unannounced was your bad, you recognized that. But he didn’t need to act like such an asshole. You picked up the rest of your belongings and made your way out of is apartment, slamming the door behind you. You knew he wasn’t going to hear it, but it made you feel better anyway.

Chanyeol and you have a very interesting relationship. You’re not formally dating, because Chanyeol made it clear he doesn’t do relationships. You were each other’s go-to fuck buddy. You liked to think it was more than that though. There were times when he would be very sweet and attentive and other times he would be cold, distant and give you the silent treatment for days, if not weeks, before he’d message you as if nothing happened. It was extremely confusing and frustrating at times because you really felt like you were developing feelings for him, you just didn’t know how he felt.

His attitude tonight was completely unexpected and you wish he’d tell you what made him so upset. It’s not like you were strangers. Six months had passed since the night you two went home together after the club. He had been over at your place countless times. You had only been to his place a handful of times, but it didn’t happen often. You feel it had something to do with the fact that he never stayed the night with you. After you’d finish having sex, he would normally stay for a few minutes to cuddle with you, but then he’d get dressed and leave. You figured he didn’t like to go to his place because he didn’t want to kick you out. You were intuitive enough though, and so the few times you’d be over at his place, you’d leave almost immediately after. He would offer to drive you home so you didn’t have to take an Uber or a taxi, but he never asked you to stay.

Once you’re back inside your apartment, yo decide to apologize to Chanyeol. You want to put this whole thing behind you as if it never happened.

Hey, I just want to say I’m sorry. It was out of line of me to barge in like that. Don’t worry, it’s not going to happen again.

You plugged your phone into its charger and went to the bathroom to take a shower, You put the unseen sexy lingerie in the hamper and sighed, it was a shame it was not ripped off your body tonight.

Once you were out of the shower, you checked your phone to see if he had replied, and to your complete disappointment, he had not. Maybe he was more angry about it than what you thought.

“And he never replied?” Mina asked in shock, her eyes bugging out in a comedic way.

“Nope. It’s been three days since. He’s giving me the silent treatment again.” You roll your eyes as you sip from your coffee.

“Look, babe, I say this because you’re my best friend and I love you. But why are you with him? He’s not worth your time! He’s such a douchebag.” Mina says, getting angrier as she thinks about it.

“He’s not that bad. He just has mood swings.” You shrug.

“Bullshit. Dude, do you not see what's going on here? He manipulates you! And you just keep going back to him time and time again! You deserve so much better than that! You’re much better than all of this!” Mina slams her coffee cup on the table, giving you a glare you’ve never received from her before.

“Mina, I know you’re looking out for me, but you need to calm down. Not all of us are as lucky as you and have a boyfriend that literally bends over backwards to give you everything you want.” You spit back at her.

“Are you freaking stupid? That’s exactly how your boyfriend is supposed to treat you! But, oh, right! Chanyeol isn’t your boyfriend. He’s just a guy that calls you when he feels like he needs something to fuck.”

You were stunned to silence. Never before had Mina ever spoken to you like. Her words had venom and you felt yourself get angry but also wanting to cry at the same time.

“Wow. Okay then.” You say, grabbing your coffee cup and your purse as you get up. “I’ll see you back at the office. My lunch break is over.” You walk away without giving her the chance to say anything else.

Mina is glued to her seat, shocked at herself for the things she said to you. She regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth. She wanted you to see that Chanyeol was only using and manipulating you, he didn’t really care about you and it hurt her to see you let yourself be used that way. You were such a strong willed person that it felt completely out of character seeing you let yourself be treated this way.

Once you got to your cubicle, you let a few tears stream down your face before you wiped them away angrily. You didn’t want anyone to see you cry at work.

Hey, want to come over tonight?

Your nerves were on end the second you pressed the send button. You just wanted to prove to yourself that Mina is all wrong about Chanyeol.

You put your phone face down so you could concentrate on your work and not glance at it every two seconds to see if he replied. You opened up your email and saw you had many of them you had to answer, making you sigh in annoyance.

“Seriously? Did everyone decide to message me when i was out to lunch?” You grumbled to yourself, opening up the first email and resuming your work.

By the time you answered your last email, three hours had passed and it was time to leave work. You glanced at your phone, remembering that you had messaged Chanyeol. You checked to see if he had replied, just to see he left you on read. You shoved your phone into your purse, annoyed at yourself for messaging him.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you noticed a little boy sitting across from you on the bus; he was staring at you and making a wiping motion. You wiped at your face, surprised to see that it was wet. You sniffled quietly and got off at your stop, stopping by the convenience store to buy some ramen and a lot of junk food. You don’t know why you were craving it so much, but you felt like you needed it.

Once the ramen was ready you turned on the TV to watch a drama and pig out on junk food. The drama that was on air was a very sappy romantic drama that had you crying when the lead male character confessed his love to the female lead.

“Love isn’t real!” You screamed at the tv, throwing the remote control across the room and wiping at your tears. You emptied the bag of honey butter chips into your mouth and laid on the couch, watching the drama until you fell asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night from a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. Clutching your stomach , you made your way to the bathroom to see what was wrong with you. Pulling down your pants and sitting on the toilet, you saw the dark red spot on your panties.

“Ugh, screw you Mother Nature.” You grumbled as you stripped your clothes off and made your way to the shower. That explained the sudden need to eat half the junk food your local convenience store had to offer. It also explained why you were crying like a little bitch last night, momma didn’t reside no weakling.

After your shower, you saw that it was past 4am. Grabbing a heating pad, you took a couple of Advil and hoped that it would help alleviate the pain. You went back to sleep before you knew it.

The blaring alarm woke you up and the second you moved to turn it off, you felt a sharp pain once again in your lower abdomen. Moaning in pain you realized that you were not going to be able to function at work today, not when your uterus was literally ripping itself to shreds inside your body.

You texted your manager to let him know you were not going to work that day. Thankfully your company was very lenient with sick leave, so you weren’t too worried about it.

You felt like crap and decided to order some delicious kimchi stew to help settle the pain, it was better than eating ramen and junk food, that’s for sure.

When Mina showed up for work, she made her way to your office with a coffee in hand, ready to apologize for her behavior the day before. She was totally out of line and she didn’t like it when you two were mad at each other. Rounding the corner, she was confused when she realized your cubicle was empty. It was very unlike you to miss work, but at the same time, lately you had been doing a lot of things that were unlike you. Still, she felt terribly bad about yesterday and she decided to shoot you a text, maybe you were sick and that worried her.

Hey… I know you’re probably still mad at me, but I want to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t see you at work today. Is everything alright?

You woke from your nap when you felt your phone vibrate next to your head. Your heart skipped a beat with the possible Chanyeol messaging you back. But seeing that it was Mina instead also made your heart race, remembering everything that happened the day before. Reading her message, you smiled softly and rolled your eyes. She worried so much about you and you felt bad for walking out on her yesterday. Her words hurt you, but you know she was just looking out for you.

Hey, I’m fine. Aunt Ruby decided to pay me a painful visit.

Oh no babe! As soon as I’m done with my morning meeting, I’ll leave work early and make my way to your house with some delicious food and goodies~

Aww you don’t have to, I know you’re busy.

Nonsense. I’ll be there in 2hrs

I love you and don’t deserve you

;)

Taking a look around your living room, you realized that your apartment was a little messy. You tidied up and washed the few dishes that were in your sink. You put a load of laundry in the washer and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower so you felt a little better.

Once you were out of the shower, you put your laundry to hang as the doorbell rang. Looking at the security camera screen, you saw Mina standing there holding bags of food.

“Hey! I brought you a little survival kit.” Mina said as she took her shoes off and made her way to your kitchen.

“I have some heating pads, chocolate, some ramen and tofu stew. Oh and kimchi from that banchan store down the block. That old lady makes the best kimchi.” She put all the bags on top of your counter as she sorted the items out.

“You’re so good to me, I don’t deserve you.” You said as you walked up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist.

Mina shrugged herself out of your arms and whirled around to face you, you were stunned at her sudden movement.

“No, don’t say that. I’m horrible, okay? I was so out of line with you. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.” Mia looked near tears as she embraced you in a tight hug.

“I know you’re looking out for me.” You said as you both pulled away. You sat on a stool as Mina took the stew out and placed it in front of you with some rice and kimchi.

“I went full mamma bear on you. I didn’t mind when you and Chanyeol were just sleeping around. But I know you and I don’t want to see you get hurt. Chanyeol doesn’t deserve you and you should not be accepting his treatment.” She said, feeling angry but sad at the same time.

“I know, but-“ You were interrupted by Mina’s phone going off. She took her phone out and answered.

“What? I am out of the office.” She said into the phone. She was quiet for a second and cursed under her breath. “Okay okay okay. I get it. I’ll be there shortly.” She hung up and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. Some people are just so incompetent they can’t do their job even though it’s so simple. I’ll check back later, okay?” She said, grabbing at her purse.

“Of course, don’t worry. You did so much already. Thank you.”

“Eat your soup!” Mina said as she made her way out of your apartment.

You ate your soup in silence and threw the trash out once you were done with the soup. Grabbing a bag of honey chips, bless you Mina, you plopped down on your couch and pulled up Netflix. You got lost on the drama you were watching you didn't hear your phone vibrate until the second time. You reached for it absentmindedly and didn't pay attention to who messaged you until you unlock your phone.

Hey babe

Can I come over? I need you

You stared at Chanyeol’s message for a couple of minutes before you responded. You were dumbfounded as to why he was messaging you now, after ignoring you for a few days.

You can come over if you want. But I’m on my period and I’m not going to sleep with you.

You sent the message with a hint of annoyance. You were hoping he’d want to come over anyway, to prove to you that this whole thing was not just about sex.

I’ll come over in 2 days

His response left you feeling cold. Two days. As in when your period is over. Your heart sank to your stomach and you felt a little nauseous. You were really hoping that this was something else, but it seems like time and time again, Chanyeol was proving you otherwise. You wiped at the tears angrily, both at Chanyeol and yourself. You couldn’t believe what an asshole he was. You had enough of his bullshit.

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[ebelwrites]

could you write the soulmates fic where both make a mistake? and then them fixing it?

Look who’s finally back to writing! Sorry for the big gap. You know how you try to write something and it’s just not coming but you keep trying to force yourself to write it anyway? That’s what I was doing; until I finally decided to give up and write something else, which got finished in two days. So, to the anon who asked ages ago for some Bad Sans Poly, I’m sorry, but that ask has been pushed back yet again. I think the idea I was trying to write was more suited for headcanons, so I’ll try again later with a new idea.

I’ll edit this later to link to the first two stories, I don’t have the time right now, sorry. But I will do it once I get home from work. In the meantime, I hope you guys enjoy this.

{EDIT}Here are the links: Reviving Something Dead and An Old Promise And A New Future

Nightmare’s fist collided with the punching bag hard enough to make his knuckles sting. Without pausing, Nightmare swung his other hand around to hit the bag just as hard. He barely noticed the twinges of pain, his mind lost deep in thought. Last night hadn’t been kind to him; he’d tossed and turned for hours, trapped in memories of more painful times. A time when the glow of his soulmate’s wings meant pain instead of comfort. Every time he closed his eyes to try and get some rest, he’d see Dream’s face looking at him in disgust. The attacks, the tests, the pain; all of it had played over and over to him.

He’d abandoned his attempts at sleep in the early hours of the morning, long before Error or Cross had been awake. He’d downed a few cups of coffee before heading off to find something to take his emotions out on. The castle’s gym was proving to be a very effective recipient to the anger he needed to unleash. The place was deserted; too early for the earliest of risers to be there, yet too late for the insomniacs and late-workers. The solitude suited him just fine.

A brief shout escaped his throat as his mind drifted back to his dreams, his memories, and he kicked the bag in frustration. He quickly moved back as the bag jerked erratically on its chain, before turning away entirely with a disgusted noise. He felt both frustrated and ashamed to be so affected by this; Dream had apologised, he’d been making amends, they’d been working through this, they had been doing great together. So why did some freaking nightmares have to make him feel like there were bugs crawling under his skin?

“Nightmare?” Oh, great, exactly who he didn’t want to see right now. Dream stood in the doorway of the gym, looking rather confused. “What are you doing here?”

“What? Am I not allowed to be here?” Anger burned like a fire inside him, sarcasm heavy in his snap at Dream. He saw the other straighten in response to his tone, his expression only growing more confused. Understandable, since Nightmare had gone from affectionate in their last encounter to snappish and angry now. But his continued presence only fueled Nightmare’s anger.

“Is something wrong, Nightmare?” Dream stepped inside the doorway, and Nightmare felt like someone had taken an electric jumper cable to him. “What is going on?”

“No. Shoo. Go away.” Nightmare couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hide away from Dream in the corner or go marching up to Dream to scream in his face. Rationally, he knew neither would end well, but reason had very little say in his mind right now. “I don’t want to see you today. Leave.” But Dream wasn’t listening to Nightmare’s words right now, it seemed. He stepped closer to Nightmare, and Nightmare could feel himself growing more and more ready for a fight with every step Dream took.

“Did I do something wrong, Nightmare?” Dream’s voice remained soothing and calm, not that it was having much effect on Nightmare at this moment. “I can’t do anything until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Oh, only everything.” Nightmare spat back. “And, unless you’ve got a time machine stashed away, your chance to make things better has long gone.” Now Dream’s face held more understanding, and his expression saddened.

“Ah, that.” Dream paused before walking closer to Nightmare. “I deeply regret the past, you know I do. And I’m going to spend an eternity making it up to you. But I can’t change it, I can only try to do better. Nightmare, I love you so much. I always have. Can we talk it out, moment to moment? Perhaps it will give you some closure.”

“Love me, huh? Always loved me, huh? Loved me so much, it took almost no time at all to replace me!” He spat the last two words, taking a step towards Dream. He wasn’t going to be scared into a corner.

“What are you-” Dream seemed even more confused and rather worried. Nightmare didn’t even let him finish speaking.

“I know about Ani.” The room fell silent as Dream put the pieces together. Even then, it looked like he still didn’t really understand what Nightmare was talking about. Well, Nightmare wasn’t going to let him guess any longer.

“Sure didn’t take you long to find someone better, did it?” Nightmare could feel tears starting to creep into the corners of his eyes, and he angrily shook them off. “Someone kinder, someone sweeter, someone who had more of a hero worship for you; I’m sure it didn’t take long for you to forget all about me. Not when there was someone more perfect to take my place.”

“Nightmare, that is not true.” Dream sounded more frantic now, and part of Nightmare relished in the fact that Dream was upset. “I never replaced you, and I never forgot about you! Whatever made you think I wanted to replace you?”

“Because you are ashamed of me.” Dream looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

“I am not asham-”

“Yes, you are! You always have been!” Nightmare was screaming now; he wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were from anger or from sadness anymore. “Why else would you never have told any of the villagers you were my soulmate? Why else wouldn’t you have told anyone now?”

“Shame was not the reason I never told them, Nightmare!” Now Dream was angry, and the few feet between them felt like inches.

“Says the one who lied about me for decades to the entire multiverse! You’re always happy to twist the truth when it makes you look better! What did you tell Ani when they asked about your soulmate? How quickly did you skip over me to look better to them?”

“Do not bring Ani into this!”

“If you won’t talk about them or admit the truth, then we’re done here!” With that, NIghtmare stalked off towards the exit, only to be stopped by a hand around his wrist.

“Do not walk away-”

“Get your hands off me!” The sound of Nightmare slapping off Dream’s hand echoed loudly in the room, startling both of them. Nightmare looked at their hands, separated by only a few inches of air, Dream’s fingers starting to turn red from his slap, and felt the grief he’d been desperately trying to hold back rise up within him.

“Leave.” Nightmare’s voice was quiet and shaky, but it was the loudest sound in the room. “And don’t come back.” There were a few moments where Dream stood frozen, quiet, before he turned and walked out the door. Once Dream was gone, Nightmare dropped to his knees on the cold floor. He felt grief and sorrow whirl within him, and the sense that he’d just lost something precious to him. And then he cried.

“Go away.” Nightmare mumbled into his pillow, too exhausted and spent to even lift his head at the knocking on his door. His blankets cocooned him and his pillow was wet from tears. He didn’t know how long he’d been hiding in his room. The knocker paused, before opening the door and walking over to the bed. Nightmare groaned and turned his head to glare with one eye at the intruder.

“I told you not to come in.”

“Yeah, you did. But someone needed to talk to you.” Cross seemed entirely unrepentant at the intrusion and sat on the bed next to Nightmare’s feet. “So, Ink told us what happened.” Nightmare let out another groan and turned his face back into the pillow.

“How did he even know?”

“Security cameras.” Nightmare felt Cross’ hand on his ankle. “He saw it, then told me and Error. Wasn’t pretty.” Nightmare made a sad noise and sunk further into his mattress.

“So, what got you all riled up before the fight? I know it wasn’t feather bastard, since you last saw him before you went to bed and you were pretty happy then. But then, even before you met him in the gym, you were spoiling for a fight. What happened?” Nightmare made a pitiful sound into his pillow.

“Bad dream?” Another sad noise, and he heard Cross sigh. The hand on his ankle began rubbing his leg and Nightmare felt himself purr a little at the touch. “So, you had some bad dreams, I’m guessing they were actually bad memories, and you decided the best way to deal with it was to take it out on wingboy.” Nightmare grumbled and turned his face out of the pillow again.

“You make it sound like this was over nothing. I did have some pretty big issues with some things he’s done.”

“Yes, you did. But you didn’t go in there wanting answers and resolutions, you went in there wanting to punch his face in. There’s a big difference in those two approaches.” Nightmare let out another grumble.

“What are you trying to tell me?” There was a long pause, and Nightmare could see the internal struggle on Cross’ face, before he finally spoke again.

“I’m saying… I think you should hear him out.” Nightmare gave him an incredulous look and Cross rolled his eyes a bit in response. “I’m not saying pretend nothing happened and continue on your merry way. But, you would never be content without closure. Arguments happen, and so do misunderstandings. You would never be okay without knowing for sure. Hear out his reasons, and then decide if he was a jerk.”

“If this was a misunderstanding, why hasn’t he come to talk it over?”

“Because you told him to leave, and to not come back. So he did.” Nightmare growled, but he had to admit that Cross had a point.

“Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because, I may not like Dream, I may still have my own issues with him, but,” he pauses, looking somewhat disgruntled, “since you got back with him, you’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I don’t want you to throw that away over a mistake.” Nightmare couldn’t speak; that Cross thought that way, it was rather touching.

“However, if this was him being a prick, I’ll kick his ass for you, okay?” A laugh escaped Nightmare at that and he gave a nod.

“Okay, I’ll go see him.” Cross gave him a grin and a pat.

“Good. But first, you might want to clean your face up. You look like you cried a biblical flood.” Nightmare guffawed and gave Cross a mock punch.

“You jerk!”

Nightmare knocked hesitantly on the door to Dream’s office. He got permission to come in, and he opened the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to go beyond the doorway. He let out a cough and Dream’s eyes snapped over to him. There were bags beneath the other’s eyes and he looked a bit rough. Dream opened his mouth, then closed it again before looking down. Silence hung in the room; Nightmare shuffled his feet before he managed to gather the courage to speak.

“Dream,” the other’s eyes lifted to him again at the sound of his name, “can we talk?”

“Of course, come in.” Dream stood from his chair, seemed to think twice about approaching Nightmare, then sat again. Nightmare sighed, took the chair on the other side of the desk, and brought it next to Dream. They both shuffled in their seats for a moment before realising that it wasn’t going to get any more comfortable.

“So,” Nightmare held Dream’s gaze as he spoke, “we have a lot to talk about. And I am ready to talk about it this time. Properly. I need answers.” Dream gave him a nod in return..

“Whatever you need; I’ll do my best.” Nightmare felt the edges of his lips drift upwards at that, feeling somewhat braver.

“You said that shame wasn’t the reason you didn’t tell people about us; what is the reason?”

“I was never ashamed of being your soulmate, Nightmare. Never.” Dream’s eyes never strayed from Nightmare’s face as he spoke. “I was worried about how they would react if they knew. It might have made them more accepting of you, but more likely-”

“More likely, it would only have made things worse.” Nightmare finished for him. Dream nodded solemnly.

“I was afraid that they would hurt you if they found out.” Nightmare looked down, feeling rather ashamed at the wrong conclusion that he’d first jumped to and then argued as truth. Hearing the actual truth was bittersweet.

“I do have something to admit,” Nightmare looked up again as Dream continued to talk. “Our argument has made me realise that I am now hiding our relationship out of shame; not of you, never of you, but of myself.” He took a breath then continued. “There are many people here who would be, rightfully, furious with me if they found out I was your soulmate. Without thinking about it, I became worried about the backlash of such an announcement, so I kept our relationship hidden. That was wrong of me, and it wasn’t fair to you.”

“If it is alright with you, regardless as to whether we continue on being together after this, I would like to announce that you are my soulmate.” Nightmare thought for a while, taking in everything he’d heard. He turned over everything in his mind, then reached out and rested a hand on top of Dream’s hand.

“I’m okay with you making that announcement. And,” he gave Dream’s hand a small squeeze and gave the other man a small smile, “I would like for us to keep going on together. I don’t want to let something like this break us; I won’t let something like this break us.” Dream blinked, then a smile lit up his face. His other hand came around to cover Nightmare’s.

“I would like for us to continue being together as well. Thank you.” Nightmare gave a nod, his smile growing wider and wider. The corners of his eyes stung once more, but this time, at least, he knew they were happy tears. They sat in comfortable silence, hand in hand, enjoying the moment.

“I am sorry, Nightmare,” Dream said, giving him a glance, “for pushing you to talk when you didn’t want to. And for grabbing you.” Nightmare gave a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry for picking a fight when you were only trying to help. And for taking my bad mood out on you.”

“Nightmare,” his hand was clasped between Dream’s, the weight grounding him to reality, “if you have concerns, or questions that need answers, please let me know. If you ask, I will answer.”

“Okay; if you’ll do the same. I don’t want another fight like before.”

“More communication about things that are bothering us,” Dream’s thumb was rubbing gentle circles into the back of his hand, and Nightmare felt himself becoming more at peace, “rather than staying quiet about them and hoping they’ll go away. I would rather a hundred little discussions and arguments than another big fight.”

“So would I.” Nightmare’s gaze wandered to the window; the sky was a bright blue and there were almost no clouds. It was a beautiful day. “Do you want me to give an interview or something after the reveal? Have me explain that things are cool now between us?” He could see Dream shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

“No; this, all of this, has been my mistake. I will deal with it on my own. It is what is right.” Nightmare wondered if that should really be how it is, but chose not to disturb the peace for now. He could discuss it further with Dream later and see what agreement they come to. Nightmare leaned back in his chair with a sigh, drawing Dream’s gaze back to him. Nightmare turned to him with a hesitant smile.

“So, as good as all this has been, I do want to talk about another thing.” Dream gave him a nod to go on. “I would like to talk about Ani.” He felt Dream stiffen, then relax. There was a moment where they both prepared themselves for the conversation, then Dream spoke.

“What do you want to know?”

“Did you love them?” Nightmare swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yes, I did. I still do.” Dream gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “But I was not lying when I said that I always loved you. I love you both so dearly. You were never in competition with each other. My love for one of you did not diminish my love for the other. I felt terrible, guilty, that I still loved you when I was with Ani; and now I feel the same for still loving Ani while I’m with you. I am sorry if this is hard for you to hear. Ani might not have been my soulmate, but they were very special to me; you both are special to me. I don’t think I could give up loving either of you.” There was silence as Nightmare processed all that Dream had told him, and he could see the other growing more and more concerned the longer the silence went on. The hands holding his own began to tremble.

“Tell me about them,” he said, at last, eyes locked to their hands. “What were they like?”

“Compassionate. And generous. Always thinking of others.” A tiny hint of a smile had begun to return to Dream’s face. “They smiled so brightly, even when they were in so much pain. They also reminded me a lot of you. So smart, and quick-witted. They might have been quiet, but they refused to take anyone’s nonsense.” Dream gave a small chuckle, his eyes growing sad. “They would have been… horribly disappointed in me, if they had ever found out about you. I imagine they would have had some rather choice words for me regarding my treatment of you.”

“They sound wonderful,” Nightmare said, wetting his lips. Dream’s eyes closed, joy and sadness mixing together on his face.

“They were. I wish you two could have met. I think they would have liked you, and I think you would have liked them too.”

“…Did you ever confess to them?”

“No. I only knew them for seven months. I fell for them, but I thought I would have time later to say everything. I did not know they were in such bad health.” Nightmare nodded, not that Dream could see it, and thought.

“You love us both, equally?”

“Yes.”

“And loving one does not take away from the other?”

“It does not.” Nightmare took a deep breath.

“Then,” he turned to Dream, closing the distance between them, “then I think I’m okay with them holding a piece of your heart.” He pressed against Dream’s side, leaning into the other’s body. Dream’s arms wrapped loosely around him, the touch warm and comforting. “Will you take me to their grave later? I want to say hello.”

“Of course.” Dream gave him a sweet look full of love. “Thank you, Nightmare, for understanding.”

“Yeah; thanks for being honest.” Nightmare yawned and snuggled further into Dream. “We going to keep going forward together? And do things better this time?”

“Yes; less silence, and more talking. We are going to do this right.” Nightmare gave a happy nod, feeling himself start to fall asleep in his soulmate’s arms. He had his answers, and he had his peace. The world felt right once more, and he was certain there would be no nightmares tonight.

No matter how well people get along, there were always going to be problems, stumbles, pitfalls, and arguments. No one is perfect; therefore no relationship was going to be perfect. But the ones that last, are when the people are always willing to make things right again afterwards.

[starwriter22]

Fearful of Love // pt. 2

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Romance/Angst

Part 1

“Every new friend is a new adventure, the start of more memories>” – Patrick Lindsay

~

November 6th

“You look like you’re about to murder everyone.”

I frowned, lifting my eyes from the essay I was reading over before class to meet Jungkook’s gaze.

“I feel like I want to murder everyone.” I said, moving my eyes back to where I stopped and continuing to read, checking for spelling errors, punctuation errors, etc. It was printed and I couldn’t edit it since there was only a little bit of time until class so rereading it was pretty much useless, but I still wanted to make sure.

“Everyone except me right? Because you love me?” He asked, framing his face in a terrible attempt to be adorable. But I didn’t look up, trying to stifle my laughter as I saw his expression turn to one of disappointment.

“Anyways, when do you get off of work today? It’s Friday which means movie night in the lounge room of the dorm building. They’re playing the nightmare before Christmas and you know that’s one of my favorite movies.”

I finished reading the last sentence, smiling as I saw no errors and placing my essay down. “I get off at 7 today, when does the movie start?”

“It starts at 8. Please tell me you’re going to come. We can bring junk food and a bunch of blankets and pillows. I want to hang out with my only friend on campus.” He whined, practically bouncing in his seat.

I couldn’t keep down the laugh that escaped me, “Yeah I think I can make it.” I said, standing to my feet as I checked the time. But nearly fell over as Jungkook practically tackle me in a back hug.

“Okay! I’ll see you later then, right?”

I wiggled through his embrace, eventually ending up on the floor as I slipped out of his arms. “Yes you will see me later as long as you never do that again.” I said, brushing myself off and rolling my eyes at the big grin he had on his face as he ran to class.

“I can’t promise that, bye!”

-

Taehyung was walking down the hall with Jimin when he felt an arm loosely drape across his shoulders, a bright smile on the owner of the arm’s lips, “Hey Tae, have my history homework?”

With a nod Taehyung took his backpack off and fished the printed homework out, handing it to the boy, Jake maybe, and smiling back, feeling the glare that Jimin was giving from behind on his back.

“Ah thanks! Do you have everybody else’s homework too? I’m going to see them before our classes so I can give it to them.” Jake said, waiting patiently as Taehyung fished out the rest of the assignments.

“Hey there’s a movie night happening in the dorm lounge, would you guys want to hang out and watch it? I’ll bring sna-” Taehyung didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was cut off.

“Sorry we can’t, we’re going to a party tonight, but hey thanks seriously you’re awesome. Talk to you later yeah?”

Taehyung nodded, letting out a sigh as he watched Jake walk the opposite way down the hall, anger slowly boiling into him as he began walking again.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to say ‘I told you so’ or ‘this always happens’ or anything really that would prove the point Jimin was trying to make yesterday. But one thing that Taehyung loved about his best friend was that he never said anything of the sorts. Instead he comforted him each and every time, which was something Taehyung would be forever thankful for.

Jimin wrapped an arm around Taehyung and pulled him closer, looking at his best friend and noticing the familiar look of frustration and betrayal on his face. Because Jimin knew that he hoped that maybe this would end different, he knew that Taehyung wished that he hadn’t (even though he tried desperately not to) said yes.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot…” Jimin said, rubbing his back. “You’re just used to the routine. You have to break out of it.”

Sooner than either of them expected they arrived in front of Taehyung’s classroom for musical theory.

“I’ll see you later? We can both bring snacks for the movie night tonight!” Jimin said, giving a bright smile that lifted Taehyung’s mood immediately.

“Yeah I’ll see you.”

(*~~*)

After work I made my way to a corner store not too far from my job to pick up snacks. I made sure to grab some that Jungkook would like (because I knew he would try and sneak some of mine). I began walking to the checkout counter and groaned as my phone buzzed in my pocket, having a strong feeling that it was Jungkook bugging me about hurrying even though we still had an hour to kill, but to my surprise it wasn’t.

Jin: Hey! How did the math homework go? – Received 7:15pm

Ahh it went so well! I got a 98 can you believe it?! Thank you Jin! – Sent 7:16pm

Jin: Well of course you did! If you didn’t I would think I was a bad teacher haha – Received 7:18pm

Well hey are you coming to the movie ni-

I didn’t even realize I had walked into line, or that someone was in front of me, until I headed face first into their back. Dropping my phone and all the snacks I had been skillfully holding in my arms in the process.

“Sorry sorry! Are you alright?”

I crouched down, beginning to pick up my things until I processed what had been said to me, realizing the voice was somewhat familiar. I looked up from the ground, watching as the man with a head of brown hair began to help pick up the items on the floor.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I said, a small smile on my lips as I met his gaze as he looked up. Soon a smile stretched across his lips as well.

“I’m glad…we really have to stop bumping into each other like this.” He said, standing up and placing the items on the conveyor belt before offering a hand to help me up, which I gladly took.

“You’re telling me, I don’t think my phone can take another fall.” I said, inspecting the phone for cracks once I placed the rest of the items on the belt. Glad that the case protected it.

His laughter filled the air between us, “Well since we seem to keep bumping into each other, may I ask your name?” He asked, greeting the cashier and getting the correct amount needed out of his wallet once all of his items were scanned.

“My name is (y/n).” I said, moving up once he finished paying and greeting the cashier as well before getting the money needed out of my bag, “May I ask your name?”

“Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you (y/n).” He said, grabbing my bags as I took the receipt from the cashier and thanked her. He handed me the bags once I finished putting my wallet back into my bag.

“It’s nice to meet you as well; do you mind me asking why you have a bag full of junk food?” I asked as we walked out the store.

“I’m going to a movie night at the college not too far from here.” He said, turning his head to send a smile my way, “Can I ask why you have junk food?”

“Same reason,” I said, the both of us laughing, “I didn’t know you were a student, have I seen you in the halls before?”

“Probably not since I haven’t seen you in the halls either, what’s your major? Maybe that’s the reason our paths haven’t crossed.”

“Oh I’m taking liberal arts. You know, the useless degree, but I told myself I would go to college and this major fits me the most. What about you?”

“I’m majoring in music. I want to become a singer someday or just have a job in music. It’s something I really love and have loved since I was little.”

“Wow, I wish I had something I was that passionate about.” I said, letting out a small laugh and swinging my bags. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what I would want to do for the rest of my life.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out your passion, you just haven’t found it yet.” He said, opening the door to the dorm building once we made it.

I quickly walked inside, thanking him, just before my phone began to ring at the same time as Taehyung’s.

“Hello?” We said in unison and I stifled my laughter.

“Are you almost here? The movie’s going to start soon!” Jungkook practically yelled through the phone, trying to talk over the loud chatter that was happening in the room.

“Yes I just walked inside the building, kookie, I’m going to change into some PJ’s and come down. It’ll only take a sec.” I said, smiling as his tone of voice changed at the sound of the nickname.

“Okay see you.”

I hung up the phone, looking at Taehyung who was still talking.

“Yes Jimin I got Cola and popcorn don’t worry. I’ll see you in a minute.” He said before hanging up, “Sorry my best friend Jimin called to see where I was.”

I smiled, lifting up my phone, “My friend Jungkook called to see where I was.”

“Well would you want to sit together? I’ll save a spot for you and your friend since I know everybody will be there.”

“Yeah that would be great! I’m going to change into my Pj’s and then I’ll be right down.”

~

“Took you long enough.” Jungkook said, throwing a pillow at me once I finally made it downstairs.

“Rude kids don’t get snacks.” I noted, managing to catch the pillow.

He rolled his eyes before letting out a laugh, “We’re the same age you can’t call me a kid!”

“I just did!” I said, breaking away from our conversation enough to notice Taehyung saying my name and waving us over to the other side of the room.

Jungkook followed my gaze, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked at him. “Who’s that?”

“Taehyung, the guy I bumped into at the restaurant the other day, remember?” I asked, taking his hand and tugging it so he could get up. “He offered to save us seats and I agreed. You don’t mind right?”

“As long as I can watch the movie I don’t care where we sit.” He said, letting me guide him across the room.

A lot of awkward and careful stepping and apologies and we were finally next to Taehyung and a guy with red hair who looked up at us curiously. “Hi, this is Jungkook.” I said, and Taehyung grinned at Jungkook, who couldn’t help but return a shy smile and wave.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Taehyung , this is Jimin the best friend I was talking about. Jimin this is Y/N.”

“You were talking about me?” Jimin asked suddenly, eyeing Taehyung before looking back at us with the prettiest smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jungkook and I both sat down, getting settled in our new seats before bringing our snacks out. But a gasp from Taehyung made the both of us stop and Jimin roll his eyes at his friend.

“Sorry he gets excited over little things.” Jimin said, laughing as Taehyung smacked his shoulder.

“I have gummy bears, I’ll share with you if you share your Doritos with me.” Taehyung said, leaning over to bump my shoulder and making me laugh in the process.

“Only if you share your Cola with us.” Jungkook said over my shoulder.

“Let us have some of your mini kitkats and you have a deal.” Jimin said and we nodded in agreement.

Jungkook gave half the package of mini chocolates to Taehyung and Jimin and somehow managed to tear the Doritos bag in half so we didn’t have to get napkins, and Jimin gave us two cans of Cola while Taehyung opened the bag of gummy worms and shared.

By the time the trading was finished the movie started, all loud chatter quickly silencing at that point and Jungkook’s attention completely absorbed in the projector screen put up for the movie.

I began to get into the movie myself, humming along to the song beginning to play, until I felt a small poke on my right side. I turned my head to see Taehyung watching the movie along with Jimin who was eating chocolate.

“I’ve seen this movie about a million times. I watch it every time the Christmas season comes around.” He whispered, his head tilting so he was close enough to whisper to me.

“I personally like watching Harry Potter…on any holiday really. But especially in the fall and winter.”

“Harry Potter is great. But you know another great movie? The Avengers.”

A grin broke out on my face, “Who is your favorite character? Mine is Iron Man.”

“Thor…or the hulk…or iron man I don’t know.” He said, turning his head to look at me. “Favorite superhero of all time?”

“Ah I don’t know…I like Batman though he’s really cool. I’m secretly batman actually if you couldn’t tell.” I said, stifling my laughter as his eyes widened and he stared at me in confusion.

“That’s a shame….”

“A shame? Why is that?”

“How can a villain befriend his enemy?” Taehyung said, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. “If you couldn’t tell I’m the joker.”

I gasped dramatically, causing the both of us to go into a fit of quiet laughter.

“How much do you think we’re annoying them on a scale of one to ten?” I asked, motioning to both Jimin and Jungkook.

“Fifty?” He asked, looking over at Jimin who was still fully engrossed in the movie. “Actually I don’t know…they’re so into the movie I would think they couldn’t even hear us.”

The rest of the movie went just like that, Taehyung and I talking in hushed voices and randomly going into fits of laughter. Even though the conversations weren’t anything special they were still entertaining.

What I got from talking to him was that he was extremely goofy and funny, similar to myself and I liked that about him.

When the movie ended we said our goodbyes, packing up our snacks and heading back to our dorms.

As I got into bed though, literally on the brink of sleep, I got a text. As I read it my eyes rolled in annoyance, but my cheeks burned in embarrassment, and I decided against texting back.

Jungkook: You and Taehyung got along well…are you interested in him?

(*~November 8th~*)

“Do you like her?”

Taehyung frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he looked over at his friend. Who was he referring to…?

“Y/N, the girl you were talking to during the whole movie, do you like her?”

His lips pressed into a tight line, fighting off the smile that threatened to appear on his lips.

“I don’t know I just met her.” Taehyung said with a shrug, trying but failing to convince Jimin, instead gaining a shove from his friend and laughter.

“You so like her! You’re fighting off a smile just thinking about her!”

“Shut up!” Taehyung said, shoving Jimin back before they walked into the coffee shop not too far from campus. This was only their second time coming. They completely forgot about the place to be honest. But with the chilly late morning weather it was a perfect time to come to the warm shop and get something hot to drink.

Taehyung took a seat near the window at the front of the store, watching as Jimin snickered quietly as he sat down. “Tae just admit it. She seems nice and you two were getting along pretty well. Not to mention you both managed to bump into each other twice in the span of a couple days. That’s fate trying to tell you-”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, reaching over the table and covering his friend’s mouth so he couldn’t speak any more. “Shh, it’s too early in the morning for you to be this annoying.” He chuckled as he saw the glare that Jimin threw his way and hissed as he bit his palm.

“Anyways, how’s Yoongi and Namjoon’s song going?” Jimin asked, his glare eventually fading as he began to play with the sugar packets on the table they were sat at.

“Pretty good, I envy both of their producing and writing skills. I hope I can gain some over the next few years, or else I’ll feel like this scholarship went to waste.” Taehyung said, rubbing his now sore palm. “How is the dance routine you and Hoseok are working on?”

“It’s going well!” Jimin said, he always perked up at the talk of dance. “You should come to the practice room and see it. The song that Hoseok picked out is awesome and the choreography that goes along with it is even better. I can’t wait till we finish it.”

“Neither can I, you’re making me anxious to see it.” Taehyung said, before he heard someone clear their throat above them.

“Hi welcome, what can I get you?”

Taehyung frowned as he saw Jimin look at the waitress and begin to laugh, soon realizing why he was laughing and feeling his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment. He was going to kill Jimin one of these days, he swore.

“Hey.”

[ghosthunthq]

Questioning | Part 1

To: @vzyfny

From: @samantha-girlscout

Hello! I had quite a bit of fun writing this. Originally I had planned for this to be about a Mairu trip in the fall… But then the story went in a completely different direction. It’s not often that I let my muse wander this much, but I hope that you’ll enjoy the path that it has led me on.

“Hi, Boss,” Yasuhara said as he walked into the office, a bright smile on his face as he waved at Mai. “How are things going today?”

“Oh, busy as always,” Mai said with a roll of her eyes as she gestured to the pile of paperwork on her desk that was carefully organized to hide her homework. “What are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

“Can’t I come in just to say hello to my favorite people?”

“Last I heard your days off were ‘treasures that you wouldn’t squander if your life depended on it’. Unless you decided to give up your partying ways…”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m a great college student. I only go to parties once in a while and every other moment I have is devoted to homework.”

Mai hummed. “And I’m sure your latest post about, what was it, the wonders of Shots Sat—”

Yasuhara promptly covered Mai’s mouth as he looked around the office to see if anyone had heard her. As per usual, neither Lin nor Naru were anywhere to be seen in the main area, but there was no telling who was listening in.

“Now, now, now. No need to talk about that kind of stuff while we’re at the office. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea that I’m anything but a hard worker.”

Mai pried his hand off of her mouth. “You do realize that everyone follows you right? Like Naru probably doesn’t really pay much attention, but I’m pretty sure that everyone has seen what you do on the weekends.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no reason to spur anyone stalking more than they already do.” Yasuhara shook his head. “Besides, don’t act like I’m the only one who will be posting loads of pictures this weekend.”

Mai squeaked at the wink Yasuhara sent her way.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m just pretty sure that I remember you talking about how your class trip is this weekend.”

“And?”

“And, as your elder, I remember how raucous my own class trip was! It seems just like yesterday that I and the other young lads snuck off to go find—”

“You say that like you didn’t go on your class trip just last year! And, b-besides! I’d never do anything as scandalous as what you’re pretending that you did.”

“Pretending? I’ll have you know that my compatriots and I barely returned to the onsen that we were staying at unscathed. If we had returned a moment later, then surely I would not be standing here today.”

“Yeah, sure, sure.” Mai looked up at the wall clock and gasped. “Oh no! I promised Naru and Lin I’d make tea nearly half an hour ago!”

Before Yasuhara could say another word, Mai rushed to the office’s kitchenette. It was a wonder she didn’t knock something over in her rush, there were certainly enough knick knacks on the table that she bumped into on the way, but somehow everything miraculously stayed on the table. Yasuhara laughed to himself as he followed his friend at a much more relaxed pace.

“Do you want any, Yasu?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Boss.”

Mai stuck out her tongue. “You know I’m not your boss.”

“Perhaps, but you still out-rank me at work.”

A blush sent Mai scouring the cupboards for various tea bags.

“I thought we talked about not worrying about that. Besides we’re equal in the office, so don’t start with me.”

“I personally don’t think that you give yourself credit, but whatever you say Boss.”

Mai sent him a glare as the tea kettle started whistling. She went about the process of brewing the tea and, in the meantime a comfortable silence settled over them. Yasuhara watched, contentedly, as his friend went about brewing the tea in the way that each of them liked. Earl Grey for Naru, black with two sugars for Yasuhara, oolong for Lin, and green with a touch of honey for herself.

“I can take Big Boss’s to him,” he offered. “I have to talk to him about a few scheduling things anyways.”

“Okay.” Mai placed the two tea cups on a tray and passed it to him. “Be careful. He’s in a pretty bad mood today.”

“Any reason why?”

“I think he had a bad phone call? I don’t quite know. He hasn’t really left his office today.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure not to poke the bear too much. Thanks for the tea, Mai.”

“Any time,” she laughed as she made her way to the equipment room.

Yasuhara watched her walk away for a short time, lost in thought. He knew that Mai was a pretty private person, but he silently hoped that she would post quite a bit this weekend in order to keep himself occupied. Sure he could do homework or watch a show, but it always entertained him when they did.

“Is there a reason you’re just standing there with my tea?”

Yasuhara shook his head to clear it before plastering an overly wide smile on his face before addressing his superior who was standing in the doorway of his office.

“Hello, Big Boss! You have perfect timing. I was just about to bring you a cup of tea!”

Naru cocked an eyebrow. “You do realize that you don’t work today, correct?”

“Yes, but I needed to come in and talk to you about something really quick so I thought I’d save Boss the trip to your office.”

“I see.” Naru turned around and re-entered his office. Yasuhara followed suit soon after and carefully closed the door behind himself. He offered the tray and Naru took his cup and made his way to his desk. He gestured to the chair across from himself and Yasuhara was quick to sit as well.

“I’m not sure exactly how much I can work anymore.” Yasuhara took a sip of tea and found it as wonderful as always. It helped to calm some of the nerves he had been feeling while on his way over.

“Is there any particular reason?”

“As I mentioned a while ago, my grandmother’s health has been waning these past few years. She had been doing a little better lately, but then she fell this past week. She was living alone, but it sounds like my parents are going to insist that she move in with us. While my mom has been staying at home most of the time, she wants to work a part-time job to help save up for a larger house. Most of the jobs that she has found are in the afternoon and since my father works days most of the time it seems that there would be a window of time where there would be no one at home to assist my grandmother. That is unless I take a break from working here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think that you would be unable to join us for cases as well?”

“Probably for the first few months, yes. After she’s healed some and is more settled I imagine that I could join on cases again. It would just depend on my parent’s schedules and if they feel comfortable leaving her alone with my younger sister.”

Naru took a sip of tea. “Will you be looking for another part-time job to cover your academic expenses?”

Yasuhara winced. He’d been avoiding the subject ever since he had realized how impossible the task would be now that he was without any income. He would probably be able to cover tuition for the next few months, but his meager savings account wouldn’t be able to last forever. And with his parents now having to take on his grandmother, there was no way that they would be able to afford to help him outside of what they were already doing.

“Probably, though I’m not sure I’ll find one that would have the right schedule.”

“I see.”

They sat in silence for a while before Naru set down his teacup, stood from his desk, and went to one of his bookcases. He ran a hand over the books, lost in thought. After a few moments he turned around purposefully and pulled out a large stack of heavily marked up papers from his briefcase and set them on the desk.

“How good is your written English?”

“Pretty good. It probably isn’t as good as someone like yours, but I did excel in it during secondary school, and I am currently minoring in it.”

Naru nodded as he parted the stack of papers to an unmarked page. “The final draft of my next article is due to the publisher in about three months. I’ve found it difficult to devote my time to editing it. If you are interested, you could edit what is left in the next two months.”

Yasuhara gaped at Naru.

“Of course, I would pay you for your trouble. All I would need is for you to document the time that you spend on it just as you would while researching for a case.” He picked up the page and offered it to Yasuhara. “Do you think that you would be able to edit this?”

Yasuhara took the page and carefully read it. It was somewhat confusing since it was in the middle of a passage, but he was able to read it rather well. It wasn’t much more difficult than Naru’s previous book, and there weren’t too many grammatical errors that he could see, but there were a few technical words that took him a moment to understand.

“I believe so. It make take me a bit of time, but I imagine that it wouldn’t be too difficult.”

Naru took the paper back and replaced it on the top of the stack. He then carefully put the rest of the stack back on top and then replaced it in his briefcase. “I imagine that there will be quite a bit of information that will be somewhat foreign to you, but most of my research is in this briefcase. I can make copies of all the relevant information should you need to refer back to it.”

“Thank you.”

Naru paused. “You’re welcome. Though I believe that I should thank you instead. I can now focus on upcoming cases instead of wasting my time trivializing over adverbs and epithets.

“I cannot send it with you right now, but I have your address and will be able to drop it off sometime in the next few days. Is there a particular time that you would be available?”

“I should be free around this time every day.”

“Great. I will stop by tomorrow.” With a short nod Naru stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Without any further comment Naru left the office, briefcase in hand. Yasuhara watched after him as he left the room. He wasn’t sure exactly what had spurred his boss’ sudden act of kindness, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it too much.

[carbynn]

RoyEd Gift Exchange 2017

@automailsucker I hope this is fluffy, hurt/comforty, and recovery/sickficy enough! Happy Holidays to you and yours :)

(Please forgive any editing errors, I did my best but I’ve been staring at this for days so I’m sure I missed some glaring ones)

In My Head

Rating: M

Tags: Post 03′/CoS-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Graphic Nightmares, Explicit Content, Ed-Typical Cursing, Fluff

Summary:

The bastard’s remaining eye finally cracked open a fraction and a low, pained hiss escaped his lips, mirroring Ed’s relieved exhale of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Fullmetal.” His voice was low and rough and Ed had to crouch down just to hear him. “Get out.”

Story under the cut!

The mission had been an absolute hell (lately, all of his missions had been hell,) and Ed wanted nothing more than to collapse into his narrow bunk in the military barracks and sleep for an eternity. He’d collected a couple of new cuts that were sure to evolve into more fucking scars, and more than a couple of bruises in some very uncomfortable spots and each halting step up to the check-in point at the entrance of Central Command pulled on every single one of them.

“Good evening, Sir. May I please see your identification?” The bushy-tailed private in the security booth was eyeing him a little warily and Ed was sure he deserved it. He’d ditched the uniform before he’d hopped on the train(he’d grudgingly started wearing it when it became clear to him that some of the behaviors he’d skated by with as a kid weren’t nearly so endearing as an adult,) and was dressed in a rather unimpressive collection of well-worn travel clothes, a few darkening bruises peeking out from under the collar of his shirt with purple smudges under his eyes to match. 

He rifled through the pocket of his overcoat and yanked out his watch, dangling it out for the private to inspect. “This good enough? Otherwise I’m gonna have to dig through this suitcase and we could be here awhile.”

The private’s eyes widened as he took in the glint of the watch and the glint of Ed’s metal hand. “Oh! Major Elric, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you out of uniform!” He shot Ed a frantic salute.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Ed said, waving his flesh hand as he stuffed the watch back in his pocket. “Did the mission go well, Sir?” 

Great, a talker. Usually, Ed didn’t mind engaging the new recruits in friendly conversation but he was dead on his feet and hanging on to his fragile sanity by a very, very thin thread. “Went okay,” he grunted. “I gotta be up bright and early to give the Brigadier General my report, actually, and I don’t mean to be rude but…”

“Oh, no, of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you, Sir. Although, if I may say, Sir, Brigadier General Mustang hasn’t left yet. You may be able to catch him before he goes.”

That gave Ed a bit of pause. It’d definitely be easier to drag his ass up to Mustang’s office, give him an incredibly brief verbal report, and sleep in and he was actually pretty grateful to the private for cluing him into that possibility. Still, it was almost midnight and he’d never known the lazy bastard to stay any later than absolutely necessary. Even Hawkeye and the business end of her pistol never kept him past ten. 

“That’s a good idea, thanks uh…” Ed squinted through the low light to catch a glimpse of the man’s nametag. “Levy. Take care, okay?”

“You too, Sir, thank you.”

Ed gave him a quick nod and started off for the front doors.

Mustang’s office was dark when Ed pushed his way in and the desk was unoccupied. A lump draped over the sofa caught his attention and a quick inspection revealed the lump to be Mustang himself. He rolled his eyes, the little bubble of concern that had settled in his stomach dissipating when he realized what must’ve happened. 

“Hey asshole, wake up,” Ed said loudly, stomping over to the sofa. “You slept past quitting time, you lazy shit.”

He expected a groan or a curse or at least some kind of movement, but Mustang didn’t even shift. 

“Hey, Mustang!” Ed called again, nudging at the sofa cushion with the toe of his boot. “C’mon, time to go.”

Again, Ed’s interference sparked no reaction and Mustang remained stone-still on the sofa, and in the dark of the room, Ed couldn’t even see the rise and fall of his chest. Something almost like terror spiked through him and his exhaustion all but disappeared, a sharp alertness replacing it as he dropped his suitcase and scrambled to seize one of Mustang’s shoulders and give it a vicious shake.

“Mustang. Mustang! Roy!” 

At that, the bastard’s remaining eye finally cracked open a fraction and a low, pained hiss escaped his lips, mirroring Ed’s relieved exhale of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Fullmetal.” His voice was low and rough and Ed had to crouch down just to hear him. “Get out.”

“Not a chance. What’s your problem?”

“Just go.” Mustang’s voice had somehow gotten even quieter and rougher.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong, you stupid asshole,” Ed snapped. “You obviously need some kind of help. Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? D’you need me to get someone from the medical corps?”

Mustang, much to Ed’s eternal shock, let out a quiet whimper. “Nothing like that.” Every word sounded like agony and Ed winced in sympathy. “Just a migraine. I get them, sometimes, since…” he trailed off in favor of another miserable groan, but Ed could fill in the rest on his own. Fucking Archer and that fucking headshot. Wasn’t it bad enough the vain bastard’d lost an eye? 

Ed blew out a long breath and stood up with a wince as the movement bore uncomfortably on a few of his fresher injuries. “Okay, well, you’re not gonna like this, but you need to get home.”

“What I need—“

“We’ll go slow,” Ed promised, and leveraged an arm under Mustang’s shoulders and hoisted him up, ignoring his weak protests as he continued to manhandle him until he was up on his feet. “You’ll be better off in bed than on this lumpy fuckin’ sofa.” He looped his flesh arm around Mustang’s waist and took most of his weight with a grunt as he leaned heavily against him. 

Mustang didn’t say anything else as Ed struggled with him out of the office and down the hall. His body was on fire and protested every single step. It felt like an eternity before they emerged outside. The cobblestones in the yard, nicked and uneven, proved a difficult challenge without the benefit of light and with the added burden of Mustang, who groaned quietly at every little misstep until they finally, finally made it to the motor pool which, mercifully, still appeared to be in service with at least one car to spare. 

“Hey, hi,” he said, approaching the woman who seemed to be in charge of the remaining cars. “The Brigadier General isn’t feeling well. Any chance we can get a car to take him home?”

The woman coordinating the pool gave them an unimpressed once-over and made it clear that she both thought he was lying and didn’t care to hear anymore about it all at the same time. Without a word, she waved over the nearest driver and shoved a clipboard into Ed’s face. He scrawled a signature on the line and she yanked it back, looking over it and, presumably, was satisfied enough with Ed’s chicken-scratch to go stash the form in a overloaded book at the other end of her booth. 

Ed hefted Mustang over to the car and yanked the door open, unloading him into the back seat as carefully as he could manage. He slid in after him and closed the door just a little bit too hard, which pulled another groan from Mustang, and exhaled heavily as he sank against the seat and letting his eyes fall shut.

“Where to, Sir?” The driver’s question snapped Ed’s eyes back open.

“Oh, uh…” Shit. He didn’t actually know where Mustang lived. He nudged him gently in the ribs. “Hey, bastard, what’s your address?” Mustang rattled off a series of numbers and a street name without even raising his head. “Did you get that?”

The driver look scandalized by Ed’s disrespectful address of a senior officer but he nodded and quickly put the car in gear. 

Ed might have nodded off during the drive but the gentle motion of the car coming to a halt jerked him back into awareness. He scrabbled for the door handle and wrenched it open before attempting to maneuver Mustang, who had pretty much devolved into dead weight by that point, out of the car. 

“C’mon asshole, work with me here,” he muttered, looping one of Mustang’s arms over his shoulder and curling his own arm around Mustang’s waist and wrenching him out of the car as gently as he could manage.

“Do you need help with that, Sir?” the driver asked, just as Ed got Mustang back on his feet.

“Think we got it from here, thanks,” he grunted. “You’re good to go.” He pushed the car door closed softly, recalling Mustang’s pained reaction to the earlier slam, and started off up the walk as the car pulled away.

Mustang’s house wasn’t quite what Ed had expected. He’d imagined it’d be something over-large and flashy with perfectly manicured hedges and maybe some a marble sculpture or two thrown in for a bit of flair. Instead, Mustang lived in a cozy little red-brick townhouse with a few sloppy bushes and a tiny lawn that looked like it could’ve used a good mow. 

He managed to get his palms together and alchemized the lock, careful not to let the door slam behind them as he hauled Mustang into his dark entryway. Ed was infinitely curious about the rest of the house, but there’d be time to snoop later.

“Bedroom?”

“Upstairs,” Mustang mumbled into his shoulder and Ed muffled his groaning response to the prospect of lugging him up the stairs but started off towards them anyway.

Ed had climbed mountains more forgiving than Mustang’s fucking stairs but he managed, thanks mostly to the iron grip of his metal hand on the railing (he’d alchemize the dents out of it later,) and to Mustang’s own attempts at careening them forward between miserable little whimpers and outright-moans that he unsuccessfully tried to muffle in the bend of Ed’s neck (and he had not fucking shivered, it was just his ungrateful nerves reacting to the strain, thank you very much,) to haul Mustang up them and into his bedroom which was, thankfully, just across from the top of the staircase. 

He dragged his armful over to the bed and steadied Mustang on his feet with one hand while he stripped off his jacket and waist cape with the other before very, very carefully helping him ease down into the mattress. His back and the automail port on his shoulder were screaming by the time he let him go and he straightened with a grimace. 

“Be right back,” he said after catching his breath through the wave of pain, and worked his way back downstairs and into the kitchen they’d passed on their way up. 

A few minutes of rifling through cabinets produced a glass that he filled from the sink before setting off back upstairs. He tried a few doors before he found the bathroom and a bit more rifling rewarded him with a bottle of painkillers. He distributed a dose for himself and swallowed them dry before tapping out a few more for Mustang, and headed back into the bedroom. 

“I have water and painkillers,” he said, setting the glass and the pills on the nightstand. “C’mon, sit up for a sec.”

“They won’t work,” came Mustang’s quiet response through the density of the pillow his face was currently buried in. “I don’t want them.”

“Like I give a fuck. Come on, they’ll at least help a little.” He steeled himself for another round of violent protestation from his back and reached down, pushing his arm under Mustang’s shoulders and pulling him up. “I may have carried your sorry ass up here but I’m not gonna shove these pills in your mouth and hold it closed like you’re one of Al’s fuckin’ cats so just take the damn things.” He pushed the glass into Mustang’s hand.

Reluctantly, and more slowly than it seemed possible, Mustang groped for the pills on the nightstand and threw them back with a sip of the water before collapsing back into the pillows with another groan.

“Was that so hard?” Ed set the water back on the nightstand and looked over Mustang’s prone form, finally allowing a bit of the worry he’d been suppressing to seep into him now that his work was done. He’d never seen Mustang so helpless, so fragile and miserable and ill. He’d always been something like a pillar in Ed’s life, an unshakable, stoic pillar and, yeah, he was a fucking nerd and wasn’t anything like half the masks he put on for different people, but he'd never seen this.

He pulled the blanket up over Mustang and tucked it around his shoulders, letting his flesh fingers linger for a moment on the dip of his throat to reassure himself that the pulse there was regular and strong.

“Get some rest, bastard,” he murmured, drawing away. “I’ll stick around until you’re a little less useless.” 

Mustang’s only response was a muffled whine.  

Everything was burning. There was heat on Roy’s face, ash in his mouth, and a pounding, hot orange-red that curled around his limbs and tore through his body and then he was screaming. At first, the only screams he could hear were his own but a chorus of screaming soon overwhelmed him, and with the screaming came the familiar smell of burnt flesh. 

He scrabbled to escape the burning, boots kicking and sliding in the grainy sand beneath his feet, and then there were hands attached to screaming bodies drawing him back into the fire. He fought them, struggling against the pull as the flames began to lick at his heels again, but the fingers were razor-sharp and they dug into him where they grabbed and he couldn’t escape them. 

He was pressed into the ground, then, half-buried in sand that was blurring his eyes and clogging his throat and only then did the screaming stop.

There was only silence, then, punctuated here and then by the crackling of flame and the howling whip of wind kicking the sand up around him, at first pale brown and then gray. Everything was gray, and the sand had turned to ash, cut with shards of the black, ragged bone that the heat of the fires hadn’t been able to burn away from the hands that had been holding him down. He tried to cry out but his throat was still plugged with sand and he could barely even breathe through it.

Don’t you like it, Flame?  It was Maes, his voice higher and more mocking than Roy had ever heard it before, cruelty cutting through every word. 

He was standing, then, facing down Maes and the barrel of a gun.

You should have had the decency to die in the North.

Pain exploded out from his left eye when the bullet struck it. A thick stream of blood cut down his face, caressing his cheek and smoothing over his throat before staining the collar of his shirt. Another stream followed, and then another, and then suddenly there were hands on his face, one flesh, one metal, stroking soothing lines down his cheek.

Maes was gone. The wind had died down, the ash had disappeared, and all Roy could see was gold. At first, it was the gold of desert sand stretched out for miles and miles around him, the gold haze of fire burning hot in the distance clogging up the blue of the sky, but the sand soon turned liquid and melted away to form the molten gold of Edward’s eyes, the gold of his hair, the warm, golden glow of his skin. 

The sand in his throat was gone and he could breathe again. The air was cool like the metal hand against his face and tinted with the taste and scent of machine oil. He was buried again, but this time instead of sand, he was covered by his own comforter in his own bed. 

He blinked to clear his eye and turned towards the warmth at his side only to find Ed propped against his headboard balancing one of Roy’s books in his hands, framed by a halo of pale golden light coming from the lamp on the nightstand that had been covered with a sheet to cut the brightness. Though the sharp, stabbing pains in Roy’s head and calmed considerably, dulled to a miserable throb, he was still in agony and he appreciated the gesture.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Ed said sheepishly. “Sorry for, uh, being here. You were… you kept, um, I think you were having nightmares and I didn’t want to go too far.”

Roy wondered just how much of those hands on him had been a dream. “That’s quite all right, Fullmetal,” he said, and his throat was raw as if it had actually been stuffed with sand, as if he’d actually been screaming. The thought made him grimace, and Ed must have interpreted that as his marching orders. He was shifting over to the side of the bed, preparing to slip out of it while he mumbled another apology. Roy’s hand moved of its own accord, reaching out and just managing to grab Ed’s metal wrist. “It’s all right,” he said again. “Stay.”

Ed stared down at him for long enough that Roy was sure he would refuse, but after a moment he relented and settled back against the headboard once more, stretching out his legs flush against Roy’s side.

It had been a long time since Roy had lain so close to someone else, and that was surely the explanation for the way his chest tightened in response to the warm press of Ed’s side against his own. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ed said, still a little uncertain. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Not completely recovered, but better. My head is still—“ He reached up to press his fingers lightly to his left eye but found only flesh where the patch, likely lost in his fitful sleep, should have been. Panic, cold and clear sank into him and he immediately moved to cover the left side of his face with his hand. Mortification and nausea warred for dominance, both eventually giving way to abject misery and a trembling that he couldn’t quite stop. He had spent years carefully rebuilding himself around his injury, recultivating his image, hiding his failures behind the patch and, as long as no one saw, as long as no one had an inkling of the wasteland that lay beneath it, then Roy was safe. Safe from judgment and safe from himself. 

He wrenched himself away from Ed’s side and turned his back to him, grinding his teeth through the new sparks of cutting pain that tore through his head at the movement. He very nearly whimpered again from the force of it, but then there was a careful, hesitant hand on his back pressing lightly between his shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Ed said softly. “It’s all right, you know. It’s not that bad.”

“It’s a reminder of everything I have ever done wrong,” Roy whispered. He was too tired and too miserable for this, in far too much pain for this. His defenses were shredded enough already. That he was so exposed was almost too much to bear. 

“Yeah, I get that, believe me.” Ed’s hand, warm and solid, still hadn’t strayed from his back and it served as a grounding point for Roy, something that saddled him in reality as images began to bloom behind his eyelids. “I figure everybody loses something eventually, no matter what the goal is. Sometimes it’s body parts, sometimes it’s something you can’t see, but after it’s all said and done, you’re still you.”

“I’m not. I’m not the same.”

“Just because you’re not the same doesn’t mean you’re not you,” Ed pointed out. “Everyone dies once. Some of us die a whole lot more than that. What survives isn’t always nice or neat or soft, but it’s you.”

Who knew that better than Ed? The logic was there, and it should have spoken to him, would have spoken to him if he’d been just a little bit more in control of himself and the wave of self-loathing he usually kept tight behind a floodwall. “I should have died in the North,” Roy whispered. They were words he’d never said out loud. He didn’t delude himself into thinking that no one knew his motives for his self-imposed exile, but saying it gave it power. Made it true. “I wanted to. It would have been fitting, in a way, for the Flame Alchemist to freeze to death. I hoped the cold and the isolation would do what Archer’s bullet didn’t do. I was too much of a coward to do it myself.”

Ed’s hand slipped over his back and curled around his shoulder and yanked. He found himself quite suddenly on his back again, staring up into Ed’s amber eyes through a hazy wave of the pain that shot through him. “People woulda missed you, idiot. I woulda missed you. I didn’t know if you’d lived or died when I got pulled through the Gate and I spent two years wondering if you pulled through ‘cause even though I wasn’t here, I couldn’t imagine this world without you in it. I know we had our differences or whatever but you stuck your neck out a hell of a lot for me n’ Al when we were kids and… I mean, we owe you a lot, y’know? And you had shit to do. You still have shit to do. Good shit. You’re s’posed to change the world, or at least this stupid fuckin’ country. You’re important. And I know me saying that probably doesn’t mean shit to you, but I’m not the only one who thinks so.” 

The spike of pain his rather sudden movement pulled forward had caused most of Ed’s words to be swallowed up in it but he understood enough. He couldn’t deny that seeing Ed again after his absence, older and sharper and wilder, had pushed him to abandon his post in the North and retake his rank and position in Central, that his absence had been a blight on Roy and just another thing he’d managed to get wrong, that he spent nights half afraid that he was, as the military presumed, actually dead even if he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. Ed was a constant weight on his mind, but he hadn’t expected to even register as a blip on his radar in those years he’d been away, wherever it was that he’d gone, and he certainly never expected an open acknowledgment of the hand he’d extended to Ed when he was a child. There was something in his eyes, sometimes, and something in his tone that spoke to his understanding of their history and that had been more than enough for Roy. It was enough to know that Alphonse was whole, body and memory restored, and that he and Ed were safe and well. 

A hand on his forehead startled him out of his thoughts. “You all right?” Ed brushed the sweat-sticky hair that had fallen into Roy’s eye. “I figured I had a few more hours at least ‘till you were with it enough to regret spillin’ your guts like that. Not that I’m gonna use it against you or anything, but I know how much you like to act like nothing bothers you.”

Edward had grown far too perceptive by half. “Forgive me for being so macabre. You’re right in saying that I’m not quite myself. I’m tired, and I’m in pain, and I shouldn’t burden you this way.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ed’s fingers brushed his forehead again and Roy thought he could feel the hesitation there just before he pushed them into his hair and began carding through it. “Don’t even know why you’re awake at all, you stupid bastard. You should be resting.”

It was difficult to argue when Ed’s hand, surprisingly gentle, was brushing through his hair and soothing him down through the hurt and into a relaxed and quiet calm that soon faded into sleep and, for once, there were no terrors waiting for him on the other side of it.  

Ed waited until Mustang was deep asleep, and then waited just a little bit longer after that just to be sure no more nightmares would follow, before slipping out of the bed and padding down to Mustang’s kitchen, his shoulder and the new bruises twinging as he moved. He didn’t think he’d sleep as long as he had the first time, and if all he was gonna do was sit around and wait for him to wake then he might as well do something helpful.

He poked around for a few minutes and came up with a pitcher which he then filled with water and set aside in favor of scrounging up something to take back upstairs for Mustang to eat when he woke up again. He’d been out for most of the night and a good portion of the morning so he was sure to be half-starved when he finally came to.It was nice to feel useful again. The missions were fine and provided Ed with at least a temporary goal to focus on, but he’d never quite managed to find purpose in the years since his return from the other side of the Gate. He’d spent most of his life chasing lofty goals; bringing mom back, getting Al’s body back, getting home. Now, he wasn’t pushing for anything. Al was completely recovered and had taken up a research grant in Xing, strong and capable and finally living the life they’d fought so hard to win back for him, but Ed had stayed behind. The military, at least, gave him purpose, even if only for a little while. Even if the missions got worse and worse every time because he was an adult and he was capable, and Mustang couldn’t shield him from the worst anymore. There was always another asshole piecing together chimeras. There was always another asshole trying to alchemize an army. There was always another asshole cutting up kids or blowing up passenger trains or murdering families, and he would always be there to take them down, because he couldn’t do anything else. He didn’t know how to do anything but fight.

Coming home was always a different kind of fight. He was useless again from the moment he stepped on the train. The days, sometimes the weeks, in between assignments stretched out into an uninterrupted haze of endless repetition interposed now and then with a beacon in the form of a letter from Al or a call from Winry. At least now, helping Mustang served as a worthy distraction from the inevitable downward slide. 

Ed managed to find a can of chicken soup buried deep in the back of Roy’s pantry and retrieved it somewhat triumphantly. The subsequent struggle between his metal fingers and the slippery fucking knob on the can opener resulted in the thing being pitched across the room and the can being alchemized open somewhat more furiously than necessary.

He dumped the soup into a bowl and swiped a piece of chalk off of the little chalk board that hung next to the door (and filed away the information that Roy Mustang made grocery lists on chalkboards in his kitchen, honestly,) and sketched out a heating array on the wooden tray he’d found tucked away in a cabinet. The bowl of soup went on the array and the pitcher of water went on the opposite corner of the tray for balance and Ed crept upstairs with it as quietly as he could manage. 

Mustang was still sleeping peacefully when Ed edged into the bedroom. He set the tray down carefully on the nightstand and, for a moment, just stood and watched. It wasn’t fair that the bastard managed to be fucking attractive even with sick-sweaty, messy hair plastered to his face and those deep, dark circles under his eyes. It had taken Ed a long time after his trip back through the Gate to reconcile the fact that he found Roy Fucking Mustang attractive. On those rare occasions he was completely honest with himself, he had found the bastard attractive a long time before that and maybe his fixation on him during his years on Earth had been less about concern and more about actual pining. Not that it mattered. Not that he ever intended to act on what was probably just a hang-over from a stupid teenage crush. Mustang was still his CO, still a fucking bastard, and even if laying next to him and feeling the warmth of his skin radiating through his clothes did weird shit to his chest, even if his heart had nearly leapt out of his throat when Mustang’s fingers locked around his metal wrist and he’d asked him to stay, it didn’t matter.

He retrieved the book he’d been reading from the opposite side of the bed and settled back in, resting his flesh leg against Mustang’s side as he propped himself back up against the headboard and willed away yet another wave of the exhaustion he’d been fighting since he’d gotten off the train. 

Mustang stirred again a few hours later. Ed set the book aside just as he was cracking his eye open and peering up at him. “You’re still here.”

As if he’d be anywhere else. “Yeah, well, had to make sure you weren’t gonna kick off. Takes too long to break in a new CO and I just don’t have the time. How’re you feeling?”

Mustang took a moment and seemed to assess himself before nodding once. “Much better. I think the worst of it has passed. How long was I asleep?”

“Not counting the little intermission, you’ve been out for about sixteen hours.” Ed gestured to the steaming soup on the nightstand. “I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”

Mustang was still a little shaky as he hauled himself up into a sitting position. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. “For the soup, and for bringing me back here.”

“’S no problem.” Ed’s shrug sent a ripple through his body and, in turn, through Mustang’s. “I figure you’d’ve done the same for me. Besides, I’ve slept on that sofa before. It’s not the best place to recuperate.”

“Is that an admission of dereliction of duty, Fullmetal?”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Jeez, even half-dead you can still find time to hound me. They ought to promote you.”

“Can I have that in writing?” 

“Why, so you can bitch about my handwriting?”

“So that I can take great exception to your handwriting with the magisterial grace befitting my rank, thank you. ”

Ed rolled his eyes again. “You’re such a fuckin’ nerd. You must be feeling better if you’re throwing around that kind of vocabulary.”

“I am,” Roy agreed, reaching for the tray and carefully balancing it on his lap. He scooted the bowl aside and took a moment to study the array before speaking again. “The rest did me quite a bit of good. It looks to me like you could benefit from a bit of rest yourself, Fullmetal. When was the last time you slept?”

“’M fine.” Ed had stayed up longer for worse causes. “Got a few hours before I finished up my assignment and then hopped on the first train back.”

Mustang looked like he was doing some serious mental math as he tried to figure out exactly how long Ed had gone without sleeping and the answer seemed to horrify him. “Why don’t you go home? You’ve done more than enough for me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay. I had to carry you up here, do you remember that? You’re not just magically fine after bein’ so sick you gotta be carried up a flight of steps.” The idea of going back to the barracks, even for the sleep he so desperately needed, was furiously off-putting. He’d be alone again, purposeless again, and he had to see for himself that Mustang was better. “I can do more good here than I can do in the dorms, at least until you’re back at one hundred percent.”

“I assure you, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.” He swallowed down a few spoonfuls of soup as if to make his point.

“Is that why you were gonna ride out your migraine on the sofa in your office?” Ed snorted inelegantly. “Yeah, seems like you’re real capable.”

“You look like you’re going to collapse.”

“You look like you’re gonna end up with a face full of soup if you don’t stop tryin’ to argue me back to my bunk.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Why not? You need a shower anyway after all that fevered sweating you’ve been doing. Y’know, because you’re fuckin’ sick?” 

Mustang stared at him for a hard second before finishing off the last of the soup and setting the tray and the empty bowl back on the night stand. “I’m not sick anymore, and now you’ve got nothing to throw.”

Bastard. “Yeah, well, you still need a shower,” Ed huffed.

“If I can manage a shower on my own, will you concede that I am recovered enough to be left alone and get some rest?”

Mustang just wasn’t going to leave this alone, was he? 

“I’ll think about it.”Mustang heaved a sigh and began to work himself out of bed. He was very obviously unsteady on his feet and Ed almost snapped himself up to help steady him, but he managed to regain his composure and walked easily to the dresser and then into the adjoining bathroom, casting Ed one final hard look before shutting the door firmly.

Ed scowled at it and reached for the book again.

Most of Roy’s unsteadiness had come from laying down for so long, and he managed the shower without much trouble. He dallied in the bathroom for a little bit longer than was strictly necessary in the hopes that when he emerged, Ed would have fallen asleep.

Of course, Ed was still very much awake when Roy emerged from the bathroom. He’d thrown the sheet off of the lamp and the curtains were open, and in the new light Roy could see just how run down he looked. His hair was loose and flying everywhere, either fallen from the braid or freed from it by Ed’s own hand, and there were dark purple smears under each of his eyes, so severe that for a moment, Roy wondered if he was actually just nursing two black eyes in the aftermath of his assignment. He looked pale and drawn, and Roy thought he could detect a slight tremor in his flesh hand when he moved to turn the page of the book he was still reading. By his calculations, Ed had been awake for a little over two days. By all rights, he should’ve succumbed to the pull of sleep by now and that he hadn’t was troubling.

It was troubling, too, that despite his haggard appearance, Edward was still the most beautiful thing Roy had ever seen. It wasn’t news to him that the years had been kind to Ed; he still had one good, working eye after all, and a very vivid imagination. That imagination had plagued his sleep, mercifully free of nightmares the second time, with unending flashes of gold and silver and the echoes of soft caresses against his face that he was certain he hadn’t dreamed up the first time around. He’d seen those flashes in his dreams in the north, too, except in those dreams Edward had been dying over and over again and Roy could only scream and reach out for him as he fell.

“Are you satisfied that I’m no longer in danger of kicking off?”

Ed’s head jerked up from the book as if he had only just then realized that Roy was there. He gave him an appraising once-over and shrugged. “I dunno, I’m not a fucking doctor.”

“And thank heavens for that. Your bedside manner could use quite a bit of work.” Roy moved the tray from its precarious perch on the nightstand to the dresser before settling on the edge of the bed, angling himself towards Ed. “You need to get some rest, Edward.”

Ed let his head fall back against the headboard with an audible thud, sending a cascade of gold over his shoulders. “Fuckin’ told you, I’m fine and I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re gonna be okay.”

“Then rest here, I don’t care, just as long as you do. You look terrible. You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends just because you’re worried for me. I’m much better now, you don’t need to keep vigil.”

“You seem fine now but what happens if the migraine comes back?”

“Then I will deal with it the way that I always deal with it. This is hardly a new hell for me. I’ve been dealing with these headaches for years. The doctors assure me they are harmless, that they’re just an unfortunate side-effect of being shot in the head.” His eye caught the strap of the eye patch poking through a tangle of sheets and he reached out for it. “One of the side-effects, anyway. I appreciate your concern, and I am eternally grateful for everything you’ve done to help me, but I’m not in any danger and wouldn’t be even if the headache were to recur.” He went to slip the patch back over his head but Ed leaned over and his hand shot out lightning fast, faster than he had any business being after being awake for so long, and stopped him.

“You don’t have to do that. This is your house, for fuck’s sake. You shouldn’t have to wear that thing here. Is it even comfortable?” He reached with his free hand, the automail, and plucked the patch out of Roy’s fingers. “Besides, it’s not like you’re not fuckin’ gorgeous, even without the damn thing.”Ed’s mouth snapped shut and his face flushed a deep and fetching shade of red as soon as he realized what he’d said. “I… I mean—“

“Edward,” Roy murmured through the shock, twisting his wrist under Ed’s hand and catching it to lace their fingers together. “If either of us is worthy of the word, it would certainly be you.”

Roy wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but suddenly they were kissing, Ed’s mouth hot against his own. The angle was terrible, with Roy’s hips twisted sideways and Ed stretched halfway across the mattress, but it was transcendent. 

Roy reached out and caught Ed around the waist, hauling him closer and finally, finally maneuvering him into a position that allowed him to curl a hand around the back of Ed’s head, fingers buried in soft gold, and tilt him down to fit their mouths together more completely. Ed hummed in approval and scraped his teeth across Roy’s bottom lip and soothed it with his tongue, and Roy was lost. He nipped at Ed’s lip in return and licked his way into his mouth, tasting and learning every little dip and the curve of his teeth and the shape of his jaw. It was perfect, bombastic, electric, everything that he’d never dared to dream of or think of wanting in fear of what denial would cost him. 

He let go of Ed’s hand and drew him even closer until Ed was nearly on his lap. Just the weight of him, heavier than he looked because of the automail but warm and solid and Ed, was enough to work Roy into a frenzy. He trailed his hand down the curve of Ed’s spine and brushed the pads of his fingers lightly against the skin of his lower back just under the hem of his shirt. Ed gasped and broke out of the kiss, panting, and Roy took the opportunity to trail kisses down the length of his throat, tasting his skin.

“Fuck,” Ed hissed, letting his head fall back as Roy laved his tongue over the place where Ed’s neck and shoulder met. “Shit. I knew you’d be like this. Knew you would.”

“Like what?” Roy murmured, ghosting warm breath over the damp spots he’d left on Ed’s throat. 

“Good. Intense.”

“You’ve been thinking about this.” Roy scraped his teeth lightly over Ed’s pulse and soothed it with his tongue before he straightened to meet Ed’s golden eyes.

“Yeah,” Ed breathed, flushing red again. “For… for a long time.”

“So have I,” Roy confessed. He leaned in and kissed him softly, still hardly daring to believe he would be allowed.

“You never said anything, you bastard,” Ed complained against his lips.

Roy trailed kisses up Ed’s cheek before pressing his lips lightly to each of the dark circles under Ed’s eyes in turn. “You’re my subordinate. You’re young. You’re whole.” That drew an inelegant snort from Ed but Roy barreled on. “I never had any right to ask this of you.”

Ed’s fingers curled in his shirt and hauled him down until Ed was flat on his back and Roy was pressing down on top of him. “Ask me now. Anything you want.”

Roy seized his chance, slotting his legs on either side of Ed’s hips and rocking against the hardness he found there. He swallowed down Ed’s gasp with another warm kiss. “I want you, Edward.”

“Fuckin’ have me, then.”

Roy didn’t need further invitation. He captured Ed’s lips again, kissing him deeply as he allowed his hands to roam over the expanse of Ed’s chest and sides. His fingers quickly found the hem of Ed’s shirt and, without bothering with the buttons, he broke the kiss to lift it off over his head. Ed’s tan chest was marked with a combination of old scars and nicks, and fresh cuts and bruises, no doubt from his latest assignment, and the automail port was ringed with thick, jagged tissue but he was nothing but beautiful in Roy’s eyes. He inhaled sharply and bent to press kisses against the place where Ed’s automail joined his arm, memorizing the topography of the scars under his lips. 

Ed’s resulting mewl almost sent Roy over the edge then and there and it took everything he had to regain his composure. “Ed,” he breathed, mouthing gently over a new bruise. “You are radiance personified. After all I have ever done in my miserable life, I’ve never done anything nearly good enough to deserve this.”

“Shut the fuck up, you sap,” Ed said, curling his flesh fingers in Roy’s hair and tugging on it gently. “Take your shirt off.”

Roy laughed at Ed’s forwardness but, honestly, expected nothing less. He kissed Ed’s chest again before rising up off of him to quickly shrug off his shirt. He leaned back down, hissing quietly when flesh made contact with flesh. The edge of the automail was cold where it touched him, but it was nothing compared to the heated flush of his skin. 

He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses over the curve of Ed’s throat as he began to work at the fly of his trousers, sucking gently over his pulse as he flicked the button open and began pushing the offending garment and the underwear beneath them out of his way. Ed whimpered and shifted his hips beneath Roy’s hands, complicating the removal of his trousers and nearly landing a kick with the automail foot against the side of Roy’s head in the process.

“Mustang, Roy, shit,” Ed hissed when Roy’s fingers finally made contact with his heated erection. He could feel him trembling under his hand and, if he was even half as keyed up as Roy was, this was sure to be brief. 

Roy quickly shed the rest of his own clothing and didn’t bother muffling his moans when he pressed his cock against Ed’s and wrapped his fingers around them both. “Is this all right?” It was messy and inelegant and Roy could do so much better but he was cognizant of both Ed’s state of exhaustion and his own state of urgent need and he couldn’t begin to entertain the idea of anything more involved. 

He allowed himself, for just a brief moment, to entertain the idea that he would be allowed to do this again, and properly.

Ed’s only answer was a furious roll of his hips that sent both of them crying out in incoherency, and Roy took that as a resounding ‘yes.’ He leaned up to catch Ed’s lips again, swallowing down all of Ed’s soft little whimpers and cries as they settled into a breathless rhythm. 

The heated slide of Ed’s flesh against his own was better than he’d ever allowed himself to dream of, and it didn’t take long at all for him to reach his peak. Ed seemed to be in a similar state, if his desperate gasps and the way his head thrashed back and forth on the sheets, sending splays of golden strands shifting over the linen, was anything to go by. 

With his free hand, Roy grabbed Ed’s chin and stilled him. “Edward,” he gasped. “Ed, look at me.”

Ed seemed to struggle with the request but finally managed to pry his eyes open. They were blown wide, black pupils just barely ringed by gold. His face was red, his hair in complete disarray, and he looked completely and utterly debauched. 

Roy tipped over the edge with a cry, the cadence of his hips losing their rhythm, and vaguely he heard Ed’s muffled swear as he followed close behind. He collapsed just off to Ed’s side, breathing hard, and as soon as the white cleared from his vision he looked over to Ed, who was a vision on his own. His flesh arm was thrown over his eyes, lengthening and tightening his body into a collection of fine and elegant lines, and just a hint of the flush on his cheeks was visible from the cover his arm provided. He was breathing hard, little breaths catching in his throat as he struggled to regain the air. He was absolutely beautiful, and Roy couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Ed shifted his arm and cracked an eye open. “Fuck,” he said emphatically.

“Quite,” Roy agreed, smiling. He brushed another kiss to the corner of Ed’s mouth before willing his watery muscles into submission and rolling to retrieve his shirt where it had been tossed on the bed. He cleaned Ed’s stomach gently before turning his attention to himself, and then threw the shirt in the vague direction of the laundry hamper. 

“Thanks,” Ed murmured, letting his arm fall off of his face and turning to regard Roy with something like uncertainty. “So, um, d’you still want me to… go?”

Roy reached out and curled his arms around Ed, dragging him close and burying his face in his mussed hair. “I didn’t want you to go. I wanted you to sleep.”

Ed pressed his face into the curve of Roy’s neck and he swore he could feel his heart stopping. “”Mh gonna sleep, don’t worry. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Edward,” Roy murmured, stroking a light hand down Ed’s spine. “How could I be anything but, with you in my arms?”

“F’kin sap,” Ed mumbled, nuzzling closer. “Makes me sick.”

“If you’re sick, then I suppose it’s my turn to take care of you.”

“Mmh, you can try, bastard.” 

Roy smiled into Ed’s hair, tightening his arms around him and pulling him impossibly closer. “Go to sleep, Ed. If I need you, you’ll be right here.”

“You always need me.” Ed nosed at Roy’s neck and blew out a long breath, and, god, if it wasn’t absolutely true. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.”

Ed muttered a vague response and Roy drew the blanket up over them. Within a few minutes, Ed was out like a light, breathing evenly against Roy’s shoulder. 

It was, he supposed, the best migraine he’d ever had in his life.

[meltiverse]

08-A MelXHubert Support Conversations

Note: Of course, I had to make fan-made supports for this Mel and at least her possible love interests. I might also made them for her friends and a few other characters if I get the inspiration for them. Also, I know only Byleth usually have S-Rank Supports, but I wanted to make some clearly romantic supports in addition the usual implied romantic ones, and I miss all the S-Supports from Awakening and Fates, so… 

Edit: I added a ending in the style of the ones in the game, because why not?

08 Mel’s Profile

C-Rank

*In the Dining Hall*

Mel: Ah, Hubert! May I have a word with you?

Hubert: What do you want?

Mel: I’ve heard that you are quite the talented Chess player, is that true?

Hubert: Indeed, but why do you care?

Mel: I’m looking for someone new to play with. The few ones I play with are too easy to read, and as such, it is easy for me to guess their moves and win. I need a new challenge, I’m sure you can understand.

Hubert: I guess one game wouldn’t hurt… I am a bit busy right now, but we can schedule some time for it later. I’ll let you know when I can.

Mel: Good! And when we’ll play, I’ll bring some snacks and tea… Oh, and some coffee for you, of course… And I guess I should favor savory, spicy or bitter snacks, right?

Hubert: *surprised face* Do you… know that much about everyone’s taste, or…

Mel: Oh no, of course not! That would be ridiculous! I have a good memory, yes, but not -that- good. I only remember that stuff about the people I find somewhat interesting.

Hubert: And in which ways do you find me interesting, pray tell?

Mel: Well, I guess I could tell you… But didn’t you say you were busy right now? Maybe I’ll tell you when we will play. See you later!

*Mel leaves*

Hubert: Wait! *sigh* I guess I will have to play Chess with her to know the answer…

 ---------------------------------

C+-Rank

*Mel and Hubert are sitting at one of the tables in the gardens*

Hubert: …

Mel: …

Hubert: Well… I do not remember the last time I ended up a Chess game with a tie…

Mel: Neither do I…

Hubert: I guess this mean we will have to play again sometime, to settle this. Meanwhile… Weren’t you supposed to tell me how you find me interesting?

Mel: *smirking* Pretty sure I said “maybe”…

Hubert: *glaring* I am sure you are aware that I know plenty of ways to make people talk…

Mel: *laugh* Fine, fine. I like to watch you do your creepy act…

Hubert: *surprised, blushing face* Creepy… act?

Mel: Yes, like you were doing right now, when you act all creepy on purpose to see people’s reactions.

Hubert: I… Hm. No wonder why you are so good at Chess. You are truly gifted at reading people, aren’t you? *muttering* What a useful ability…

Mel: I guess it’s something like that, yes. Anyways, thank you for playing with me. Let’s play again soon! Sorry, but I need to go back to work. See you later!

 -----------------------------------------

B-Rank

*In the Dining Hall*

Mel: Hello Hubert! What bring you here at this hour?

Hubert: *pained face* I am afraid I might have forgotten to eat so far today… As such, I am rather hungry, as much as I hate to admit it…

Mel: Hubert! No! Forgetting to eat for so long is very bad for you! How are you supposed to use your full capacities to serve Lady Edelgard if you don’t eat properly! Seriously, you’re smarter than that!

Hubert: *still with pained face* I know, I know… Just a lapse of judgement. It won’t happen again…

Mel: Well… At least you acknowledge your error. Sit down, I’ll bring you something to eat and cup of coffee in a few minutes, ok?

Hubert: …Thank you, Melanie.

Mel: Please, call me Mel.

*time-skip to a few minutes later*

Hubert: I don’t usually care much for food, but I have to admit that I am quite fond of this particular dish…

Mel: Yes, I know…

Hubert: … Of course, you know… I was wondering, where did you learned to cook like that?

Mel: My adoptive father taught me. He was a chef in a restaurant of the Kingdom that he owned with his brother, Ashe’s father. They both died of a disease some years ago.

Hubert: Ah, yes. I recall having heard about that. Do you know any of your blood relatives?

Mel: No… I was adopted when I was barely a few months old. My dad found me in a basket, on the side of the road. I was wrapped in a blanket and there was a letter with me asking to take care of me and mentioning my name, but not where I came from, nor why I was abandoned.

Hubert: I see… How interesting… I am afraid I must take my leave now, but let’s talk again soon. Thank you again for the meal.

Mel: You’re welcome! See you later!

 ------------------------------------------------

A-Rank (After Byleth’s return)

*In the gardens*

Hubert: Ah, Mel! Perfect timing. I have an offer to make you.

Mel: Ah? And what might this offer be?

Hubert: I would like to employ you as Lady Edelgard’s official chef, after the war, of course.

Mel: *surprised face* That’s… I’m flattered, but… I was planning on opening my own restaurant after the war…

Hubert: Maybe if I explain my reasoning? I know, for a fact, that Lady Edelgard adore your cooking. She absolutely devours anything you make with the biggest and most genuine smile on her face. And I have to admit that I am quite fond of your cooking myself. I don’t know if either of us would be able to go back to something of lower quality.

Mel: *blushing* Aw, come on, you’re exaggerating! I know I’m a good cook, but I’m not that special, really. There are plenty of other chefs as good as me or better…

Hubert: On the contrary. I never was one for flatteries. This is only true facts. Not to mention that your ability to read people would be extremely useful to make sure that all the staff are people that would stay loyal to the Emperor.

Mel: I see… Listen, I will think about it, but I can’t make a decision right now.

Hubert: Very well. Your answer is not needed until the end of this war anyways. But I do hope that you will accept… *blush* I would greatly miss our regular conversations and Chess games if you decline…

Mel: *blush* Duly noted! I’m sorry, but I have to go back to work now.

*Mel leave*

Hubert: Hm… How can I ensure that she will accept…? I guess I could… Yes, I guess this could be a decent solution…

 -------------------------------------------

S-Rank

*Mel is sitting at one of the tables in the gardens, Hubert arrive and sit at the table too*

Mel: Ah! Hubert! Ready for our game?

Hubert: Yes, I am. But before we start… Perhaps we could… “spice up” the game a bit?

Mel: What do you mean?

Hubert: How about the winner get to ask any questions to the loser, and the loser have to answer honestly? We both know when someone is lying, so neither of us could get away with it…

Mel: What if we get a tie?

Hubert: Then, the same will apply for a future game.

Mel: All right. Deal.

*Timeskip to the end of the game*

Hubert: Checkmate.

Mel: What? How?... Oh! Good game. I admit defeat. You can ask your question…

Hubert: Perfect… First, have you given thought to my offer to become Lady Edelgard’s Chef?

Mel: I have… And I decided to accept. To be honest, I would miss you… *blush* our conversations and games too…

Hubert: That’s wonderful news! Next question. If I were to ask for your hand in marriage, would you accept?

Mel: *blushing even more* Whaaaa? What kind of question is that?

Hubert: *blush* In other words, do you love me as I love you?

Mel: You… love me?

Hubert: *smirking* Are you not supposed to be good at reading people? Surely you know the answer by now…

Mel: YES! Yes, I would gladly accept to marry you! I love you too!

Hubert: Perfect. *muttering* All according to plan. *in regular voice* I have one last question.

Mel: Uh?

Hubert: May I kiss you?

Mel: *whispering*… yes…

------------------------------------------------------------------

Ending

After the war, the fight against “Those who slither in the dark” started. Hubert and Mel fought them side by side, with the help of the Emperor and their old Professor and classmates. It is only afterward that they finally got married, spending the rest of their lives serving the Emperor. It is said that they never had children of their own blood but took care of many who lost their parents during the war.

[2dap-blog]

“The Mask”

EDIT, 3/31/17: i noticed a few errors / typos and fixed it

TW: Death mention. I think that’s it?

Word count: 2,691

so i had this assignment in class to write a narrative about anything and... well i might’ve taken it a lil too far.

the title has some form of significance but now?? it’s slightly less relevant. u know what im sayin? but yea i hope yall like this read.

When I was little, my older brother used to scare me all the time with a mask he made. Well, it wasn’t really a mask— it was a cardboard box with a face on it. He usually chased me around the house, right on my heels. I remember how much it had shaken me up, especially when he tackled me. He used to laugh about it all the time behind my back.

I had nightmares about it. The mask always was on the face of a man— someone I didn’t know. He carried a huge weapon—often a scythe— that seemed weightless in his hands. The only noise he made was from the chains rattling around him. He used to chase me down a hallway, with an end that I couldn’t see. The sequence always ended in my brother’s laughter. These nightmares occurred often, and I’m glad they stopped.

Time moved on. We grew older, our interests changed, and my brother didn’t find the “joke” very funny anymore. He handed the cardboard box over to me and told me to do something with it. He didn’t want it, and neither did I. I threw it somewhere and never looked back.

Before my brothers and I even realized it, our 18th birthday came around. Our mother told us to pack up and move out in a week. I remember being really stressed and trying to find anything that could hold what we might need— this was completely new. My younger brother found a few containers scattered around the house to start us off.

“Golly, Joey,” my older brother joked as he watched him lug everything around, “Mom said that we’ll have to move out in a week, not a day.”

“Shut up and help me,” Joey grumbled, who was busy packing whatever he could fit into the boxes. He threw one at my brother’s face, which he looked at and grinned. He put it on and slowly turned towards me. It was the smiling cardboard box.

I didn’t see it for very long, though, since Joey walked over and yanked it off his head. “Take things seriously,” I remember him saying, giving him a death glare. My brother just laughed and nodded.

The box began to pop up more often. In the shower, in my room... anywhere that my brother thought I’d go, he put it there. It shocked me when I first saw it, but it didn’t bother me all too much after a while. This lasted for about half a year until spring cleaning came by.

I saw my older brother carrying out a heaping pile of materials in the smiling box. I stopped him in his tracks and asked him if he was throwing the container away too, in which he replied, “Yeah.” He was making his way through the door when he added, “Thing takes too much space and doesn’t do anything. Joey wants it out, anyways.”

Joey’s word was surprisingly final, despite me and my brother being the older triplets, but I tried to make a deal with him anyway. We settled on cutting out the side where the face was drawn on. I took the piece and cut out the face to fit mine before attaching a string on it to make a mask. The rest was thrown out with the other stuff.

The mask surprisingly came in handy later on. Reality came fast, and my brothers and I had to find jobs. I decided to work as a truck driver, but the pay wasn’t enough. I couldn’t find a part-time job with a schedule that I could work with except...

I became an executioner. In the beginning, the whole ordeal didn’t sit with me very well. I kept having second thoughts and was wondering about how the felons’ families would feel after they died. Now, I just tell myself to swing the axe— no deeper thought required. But I still feel guilty for doing it.

That’s why I wear the mask. I can somewhat see the person’s face, but they can’t see mine at all. I don’t want to watch their faces twist with horror as I decapitate them. But why do I care? Those people deserved it— they’re proven killers. They deserved to die...

I never expected to become an executioner, but we live in a pretty rough part of town. Plenty of crimes going about— theft, arson, and murders— so the state found it necessary to find one. But lately, there’s been less and less. The police has been cracking down on the criminals and has been throwing them in jail. There had been a serial killer on the loose, but the department hasn’t found him yet.

Well, not until a few months ago.

It was on a warm Tuesday afternoon. Joey was working overtime, so I was alone with my older brother. I remember him making dinner while I was sitting at the table cutting coupons out of the paper. The windows were wide open— the kitchen was always hot whenever he cooked. I heard a car pull up into the driveway.

“Is that Joey?” my brother asked, looking at me. “He said he’d come in... two hours. He’s early.” I shrug and lean back in my chair, putting my feet on the table. “We’re eating on that, J.”

“Sorry—”

When we heard a knock at the door, we both knew it wasn’t him. I put my feet down and walked over to the door and looked through the peephole.

There was a policeman standing at the doorstep. I felt a nervous jolt go through me. Why were they here? I reluctantly opened the door. “Hello, Officer,” I said, trying to be polite as possible.

“Hello. Do you know this man?” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it, showing me a picture.

I felt sick to my stomach. “Yes, he’s my brother.” I saw the officer’s expression change ever so slightly.

“We have to take him into custody. Where is he?”

And speak of the devil. My brother had walked over and was standing by me. “Here, Officer.”

He was smiling. It didn’t look grim, it didn’t look snide, it just looked... happy. I still don’t understand why he was smiling. Didn’t he regret anything?

The policeman took him away, and my older brother flashed me a grin as he was escorted to the back of the car. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t I say anything? I had so many questions then, and they’re still unanswered.

The next few weeks after came as a blur. Court, hiring lawyers, the trial— I don’t remember much at all. I don’t remember what he said to the judge, what I did those days... I sometimes wish that I did, but at the same time, I’m glad I didn’t.

What I do recall is that Joey had been even quieter than usual. Still is. He didn’t speak to me for a long time after I broke the news to him, except for one single sentence: I don’t believe you. I wouldn’t have believed me either. After all, for what reason would our brother be arrested?

Even though this was answered about a couple of days after, it just didn’t make sense to either of us. Why did he do it? What was his reason? Joey didn’t know, and nor did I.

Joey is working harder now that our brother’s gone. He’s beginning to stay at the warehouse into the late hours of the night. I worry for him. He’s going to kill himself that way. I don’t know what to tell him, though, because he doesn’t listen to me, only our older brother.

It’s been two months now. Today, I was called down to the office. It was early in the morning, but I was alone in my house. Joey had already left for work.

I sleepily went through my morning routine, with a coffee brewing in the meantime. When I was done, the coffee was piping hot. I grabbed the pitcher and poured it into a thermos, then headed outside to the car.

Another execution. What a shame, I think to myself blandly, trying to blink the tiredness away as I sipped on my coffee, it’s such a fine day, too. Sunny. I don’t feel like listening to music, so drive’s going to be a long, silent one.

I arrive at the building. It’s tall and a little intimidating, with the worn-down brick. I park off somewhere and walk inside.

The sudden cold’s like a slap to the face. It isn’t usually this cold in the place, but I guess it’s a little reasonable, considering the temperature outside.

I head down to the office and see the chief sitting there, leaning back with her arms folded. “Jason Dixon, how are you doing this morning?” she asks me, a smile on her face.

“Fine, thank you,” I tell her, avoiding her gaze. I always feel a slight sense of unease whenever I look at her; I don’t know why.

“That’s fine and dandy. Now, we have another prisoner on death row. We’re expecting you to execute them today.” She’s still wearing that smile. I feel a chill come down my spine— maybe the building is a little too cold. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” I say. I lied. I never want to do this job again, never want to see another dead body again, but I have to support my family somehow.

“Good! I wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyways.”

“May I ask who I’m executing?”

“Sorry, sonny, law forbids it. You know the drill.”

“Of course. I apologize.”

“It’s no problem. You’re still young.” She points me over to the outside. “A prison officer’s going to go drive you to the jailhouse. He’ll be here in a moment. Sit down and wait.” I nod and sit down in the chair in front of her desk, a little awkward.

A few awkward minutes later, her phone rings. She picks it up and listens for a bit before nodding at me. “He’s here.”

“Thank you,” I say quickly, heading out the office.

The officer’s sitting on a bench outside, looking occasionally from left to right. He’s smoking a cigarette. I open the glass doors and go back into the humid outside world, clearing my throat.

The man turns to look at me and gets up from his seat, putting the cig out in an ashtray beside him. He doesn’t say a word to me as he walks over to his car and unlocks the door.

I make my way over and slide into the shotgun seat. The whole car smells of cigs, and I struggle to not cough as he starts the drive.

It’s been an excruciatingly long time— I can’t stand it anymore. I quickly ask him if I can roll down the window. “Yes,” he says simply, never tearing his eyes off the road. When the window was down and fresh air rushed in, I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to feel wind in my face in my whole entire life.

After long trip of silence, we arrive at the jailhouse. It’s big and pretty bland-looking— a huge building of tannish concrete. The officer gets out of the car and motions for me to follow.

The place is just as boring on the inside as it is outside— white floor, ceiling, and walls— and as cold as the department building. This was nothing new to me, of course, but I shiver anyways. I hear a woman laugh scornfully, probably at me. The man shouts at her to shut her mouth, and I try to keep staring ahead.

After a long walk, he turns to me and tells me to go to set up. As I walk past him, he stops at a cell and barks, “Wake up, you’re getting out of here!”

I was about finished with sharpening my axe when another officer walks in. “Prisoner’s ready for you.” I nod and tell her that I’ll be done in a few minutes. She says okay and leaves.

I put on the mask that I brought from home and head out once I finished. I walk down the white halls and head into the execution room. Inside laid the prisoner.

I walk over to him and see his expression change from crazed to shock.

“It can’t be,” I hear him whisper, his voice familiar. His eyes are wide. “It can’t.” I don’t know what to say; everyone else I’ve executed never reacted like this when they saw me.

The prisoner’s looking at me from head to toe, his eyes darting up and down. I hold my axe tighter in my hands as I do the same. He looks disgustingly unkempt— hair everywhere, emaciated, bags under his eyes... like all the others.

He has dark brown hair— or black, I didn’t know— with brown eyes. It reminds me of Joey, but Joey isn’t in jail.

“Jason?”

My eyes widen. He says my name again, and I feel something in my throat. It’s him. He looks so different now.

Why him? I can remember what happened two months ago now, after his arrest. He was found guilty of first degree murder and petty theft. He was sentenced to death. It felt so long ago, but now the day is here...

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” he asks quietly, stopping my thoughts. I see the pain and confusion in his eyes. “Take that mask off...”

But I don’t want to.

“Why?” I manage to choke out. “Why did you do it?” My brother doesn’t reply. I drop my axe to my sides. “Please, just answer me,” I beg, struggling to keep calm, “why did you do it?”

“I had to,” he says to me. I could see him look away.

I stare at him. “You didn’t have to kill anyone!” I nearly scream, my face hot, “Why do you think that— that killing and stealing was the right thing to do?” I feel my body shaking from anger.

“... It was for money.”

“Money, money, money!” I blurt. “Is that all you think of? What about us? What did you think we’ll do once we found out that you’re a criminal?” My vision blurs. “Why are you so— why are— w-why are you so damn selfish?”

“It was for the both of you— not just me.” He looks back at me, tears in his eyes. “Now you got me crying, huh, Jason?” He grins at me. “I— I didn’t expect this to affect you both this much. I’m still as stupid as ever. Guess some things don’t change.”

“You aren’t stupid,” I say to him, “you— you just don’t think things through. You don’t think about the future enough.” I don’t think I worded it well. I take a deep breath and try to settle my nerves. “God, please don’t call yourself stupid...”

“Well,” my brother begins after a moment of silence, “I know what to expect right now. Come on, J.”

“Come on, what?” I ask him, trying to avoid the topic.

“Hey, now you’re being stupid,” he jokes. “You’re stalling. Aren’t I supposed to do that?” His eyes move down to the axe.

I sigh. He’s right. I have been stalling. “It’s only because I— I don’t want to kill you,” I mutter, looking down.

“But you have to. Or someone else will.”

He’s serious. I hold back a sob, then nod. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll do it.”

I try to gain my composure again, tightening my grip around the axe’s handle. “Any last requests?” I ask him.

“I want to see your face again.” I hesitate before I take off my mask. He smiles at me again, and I feel myself smile back. “Ah, there’s the Jason I know.” He then grins, this time without scorn. “I’ll miss you two when my ass is in Hell.”

I snort, then lightly hit him. “Don’t make this funny,” I say to him.

“Alright.”

And that was the last word Steve said to me.

[induratis]

okay so this doesn’t really follow the meme exactly but screw protocol. sorry not sorry for what’s about to happen. (also, ignore any grammar errors, i’m too lazy and sick to edit)

When he wakes, he’s lying on his bed in Alpha station. It only takes him a moment of groggy confusion before he REMEMBERS and he sits up, gasping for air. Because the place where Clarke had stuck the needle into his skin still burns, but not so much from the medicine itself and more from the betrayal. Eyes shift immediately to the small window and she’s there, sitting with her legs crossed, gaze watching him intently. The window is placed high on the wall but, when the station crashed from space, it has embedded itself in the ground just enough so Clarke is level with him. He scrambles to his feet and rushes to the window and she smiles sadly, touching the glass like a gentle caress.

AND HE KNOWS.

–

He screams at Raven to OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR until his throat is raw, but it’s Octavia’s hand that pulls him away. He knows they can’t open the door. Not for five years. Not when it’s sealed. If they let Clarke in or let him out, then he’ll be killing them all. It terrifies him that, for a moment, he thinks it might be worth it.

–

Abby’s eyes meet his in understanding the day after the doors close and Bellamy knows that she gets it, but he glares at her anyway because the medication in the syringe that put him to sleep had come from her med-bay. If Clarke took it, then Abby would’ve known what she was planning. And she let her daughter do it. Abby let Clarke keep his name on the list, while allowing her to break the promise he’d made to her. If I’m on that list, you’re on that list.

WHAT A LOAD OF BULLSHIT.

–

He pushes his desk to sit directly under the window and stays in the chair, watching her. She’s still alive, though he can see from his position inside that the sores are already beginning to form. The people not on the list who chose to stay in Arkadia to die start to suffer around her, but she continues to sit next to his window. She’s got a pencil and two sheets of paper from a sketchpad. And she draws. His eyes never leave her fingers, watching as she shades in his hair, darkening his freckles, his scars.

He didn’t even know she could draw. And it brings the horrible realization that there are so many things he doesn’t know about her — things he’ll never be able to find out now.

–

It’s two days before he finally falls asleep, sitting up in the chair, head tucked against his shoulder. And when his eyes open hours later, it only feels like minutes, and she’s gone. Panic rises in his chest and he pushes himself up so he’s kneeling on his desk, bangs on the glass. If he hits hard enough, maybe it’ll crack. Maybe it’ll crack and he can let her in. But, of course, it doesn’t break. The ship is made for space, after all. He hits and hits until someone complains about the noise and Monty comes in, talking him off the ledge.

All he can think as he stares at his friend is that’s Clarke’s job you’re doing.

But then Monty’s voice breaks as he tells her Clarke is still alive, they saw her on the other side of the ship just minutes before, and Bellamy remembers Jasper. He remembers that Monty has someone out there he loves, too.

–

He sits at his desk and thinks that maybe he could write a note for Clarke to see, since she can’t hear him through the glass. And the words come easier than expected. He even rips it from the notebook, prepare to push it against the window, a final goodbye. But, when he looks up, Clarke is sleeping, the blood oozing from her skin, her eyes crying red. He crumples the paper and stuffs it in his pocket.

May we meet again, he mumbles to himself instead. Hoping she’ll hear his words somewhere in her heart before she dies.

–

She survives for weeks and Bellamy has been forced by DUTY to get back to work. So he helps ration and keeps the guard schedule and even eats dinner most days. Clarke withers away against his window and none of their people outside stop and ask her to SAVE THEM. Maybe she’s finally gotten the break she deserves. It’s ironic, in a way, that it had to happen this way.

His eyes linger down her form, trying to memorize every part of who she is because he knows her breathing has grown more shallow. She spends more time these day asleep than awake and the picture she drew lays unfinished next to her. His finger shake on the pen he’s holding and it reminds him he needs to focus on these reports from Raven. They’ve changed the ration plan and, apparently, he’s important enough that it needs his approval in writing. Eyes glance down at the rise and fall of Clarke’s chest — slow, but still there. And he risks looking down at the paper, writing the swift signature at the bottom.

It’s been less than a minute before he looks back up against, but he can tell right away that something’s changed. Her lashes don’t flutter, wind whips her hair into her face. And her hand has moved closer to the window, as if reaching out for him.

Fist bangs against his desk in anger, over and over again, until his knuckle split open and blood smears the metal. It’s not until it splatters across the paper that he stops and looks back at Clarke one more time. He lets his heart break and wills her to open her eyes. Allows himself a brief moment to compose him, taking a deep breath. And walking out of the room.

–

He finds Raven first, tells her the news as he shoves the paper at her. If she sees the blood, she ignores it, but maybe that’s simply because of the tears in her eyes. He doesn’t try to comfort her before moving to med-bay, to Abby.

–

Abby needs a GOODBYE with her daughter and Bellamy’s okay with that. He doesn’t want to go back to his room anyway. So he finds himself in the doorway of the only person he really wants to see right now. Octavia’s tattoos are Lincoln’s and, when she says his name, he crumples. Head bent, shoulders shaking, standing in the doorway.

They have their faults — their differences — their mistakes, but Octavia gently pulls him into the room, closes the door behind them, and sits him on the couch. Her arms are around him and she nods against his shoulder and whispers I know. And she does. She knows better than anyone. He wonders for the first time if she had to be drugged to get on the ship, too. This place is like chains to her.

The note is his pocket feels heavy.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he thinks maybe this was their fate all along. Maybe the Blakes were only meant to have each other.

–

There’s a sheet hanging from the window when he gets back to his room — Abby’s doing, he assumes — and he rips it down with a SUDDEN RAGE, throwing it against the wall, where it falls softly. Roughly, he pulls the wrinkled paper from his pocket, smoothing it on the table with a gentleness uncharacteristic from moments before.

And he holds it against the window for a moment.

Clarke’s dead body will only be whole for a few more days before the storm hits and tears away her skin, turning it to ashes, carrying her across the world. But he needs her SOLID for these words Short, simple, just three of them — something he should’ve said out loud to her so many times.

But she won’t ever see them and maybe that’s why he feels dead, too.