#artie eats my fingers whenever i try holding him

[mariswxt]

Hey, Zep! Loved this as always. First things first:

That’s my summary of this whole shebang. In more ways than one, if ykyk ;)

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

Could not be more real with this line! I’ve had to quite literally label my salt and sugar boxes in bright letters.

How hard could a pie really be?

Girl, when you’re baking for Dean Winchester, the pie’s gotta be perfect.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

That could be any second now, y’know that, right? Dude loves his food.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

Love this! Dean would definitely believe in the five second rule.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

No, you are not. You are definitely not.

Also, was absolutely obsessed with the Dr House M.D reference, love that show!

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

DAMN-

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

Oh, sweetie, a lot more.

Great piece of work, Zep, as always!

Arty :)

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[whump-town]

Beth

I feel like I never see any Hotch/Beth stories so here is my contribution. Beth got done so dirty by the writers and I’ll never forgive them for that. She could have made Hotch happy...

It doesn’t take long for Beth to realize that her perfect man-- come on, how often do they come tall, handsome, sweet, athletic, and as good fathers?-- isn’t all that perfect. He’s strange and it’s just as enchanting as his goofy laugh but there are just elements to him that she can’t understand. She finds herself itching to pick him apart but something tells her she’s messing with Pandora’s box. Is breaking him worth understanding him?

He freezes. 

It’s like a glitch in his hardware. There’s this spot where the kitchen meets the living room of his apartment and it’s the only place the glitch occurs. She’d noticed it about a month into dating him and the first time she’d laughed a little, surprised by the look on his face. It was a shock factor kind of laugh, inappropriate, and wrong enough to make her cheeks flush. He hadn’t noticed. His eyes were glued to the carpet. 

His face was pinched in concentration. Dark brows furrowed and shoulders tightly pulled back. It’s complete unease and tension like she’s never seen before. For a moment, it kind of scares her. He’s got this lost look in his eyes. Wherever he is when he’s looking at that spot in the carpet, he’s not here. He’s not anywhere she can reach him. 

The thing is, no matter how many times she looks at that spot… she can’t see what he sees. There’s a bit of a disturbance in the fibers that form an edge. It looks like someone might have replaced a section of the carpet but it’s nearly impossible to tell or even be certain. 

As curious as she is, she also can’t find the courage to ask. Something… Something tells her she doesn’t want to know.

Still, she can’t help but turn a curious eye to this perfect man. He’s got flaws, like anyone. It’s hard to get past his defenses and it’s a slowly learned lesson forming an understanding of his love. When they argue, he gets desperate. Voice hoarse but he never raises it, not even when she wants to shout. It’s hard to place her importance to him but whenever she starts to doubt his love he swoops back in. It’s a tiring thing, being pushed and pulled away.

He catches her smiling at him and his heart leaps to his throat. It’s hard being Hotch here, with her. So hard to keep the emotions at bay or within his control. “Wh-What?” he asks. His cheeks flush, unsure of what to do under her attention and not used to anyone really looking at him. Not with the love, he thinks he sees in her dark eyes-- but maybe he’s just imagining that. 

She kisses him. Smiling when he works a hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer. 

Another thing she’s noticed… he never takes his shirt off. The sex is amazing. No matter how “rusty” he’d claimed to be. He also never initiates sex. It’s not a subject to talk about or even one they really dwell on. Unless she starts putting on the “moves” nothing happens. She really can’t complain. Men can be pushy and demanding, a huge turnoff and red flag. Not Aaron. 

She smiles into their kiss and playfully runs the back of her finger across the little bit of stomach his shirt has risen up to expose. He reacts as she expects, shirking away with a choked laugh. It’s positive reinforcement. Deepening their kiss, she sneaks her hand the rest of the way under his shirt. Gently, waiting and feeling every bit of his nervous inhale, she places her hand against his fluttering stomach. 

“Okay?” she asks.

He nods. 

She’s not sure what she’s expecting to find. 

“They--They,” his chest keeps it’s panicked rise and fall. Not quite full breathes. “It’s just-- they’re just… I can’t--”

George Foyet. He won’t ever tell her much more than what she has to know. That he hurt Aaron and killed Jack’s mother Haley. She’s seen glimpses of the scars. He’s very good at hiding them. She’s very aware of his medicine cabinet, even if she’s not aware of the scars. 

Clomipramine. She’s aware of the panic attacks and compulsivity he can fall into. The way that he checks the locks four times every night before he can fall asleep. Some nights venturing back out two more times to make sure. Hypervigilance but also if he doesn’t do this, he knows he’ll wake up and they’ll all be gone. Beth. Jack. Dead. She’s seen the nightmares. 

Xanax. A medication that’s supposed to bring relief in 30 minutes but she’s sat on the bathroom floor while he’s sobbed. Choking on the air his lungs struggle to bring in. 30 minutes is a very long time to watch someone you love panic in pain. Convinced of something that you can’t even understand and they can’t explain. The AS NEEDED label had once convinced her it was of less importance. She’s certain that over the course of the last few years she’s nursed him through taking the medication more times than she ever has anything else. 

He’d taken Lexapro for two years. It’d stopped working and that had been an awful thing to watch. She’d sat with him through the detox, trying to convince him to eat and shower when his brain slowly tried to kill him. 

That’s not even the beginning. There’s an entire cocktail of anticoagulants and common over the counter things that he has to take. Some for old wounds and others for his forever skewed blood pressure and damaged vessels and arties. She just knows-- five in the morning with his coffee, three at night before bed. 

But he’s… better. 

He’ll make little jokes about her profiling abilities. The way she’ll steady his hands in her own and softly encourage him to go take a Xanax. Often just pulling him to her chest, stilling his anxious movement until his breathing has slowed and he never gets the chance to panic. 

That’s why she stops. Hands drawing away from his chest, she cups his cheeks. “Aaron,” she whispers holding him close. Keeping calm while his hands move over her back. A motion she understands. He’s trying to reassure himself that she’s real. She’s here. She won’t let him forget that. “I love you,” she whispers.

He pulls back to look at her. Eyes darting between hers so really place what he’s seeing. To pick up on the little cues she exhibits when lying. 

“I love you,” she says again, conviction strong and palm warm against his cheek. 

He averts his eyes but turns his head to her palm. “You sure?” he asks teasingly, tear streaking down his cheek. 

She brushes it away. “Most of the time.”

[butterflies-dragons]

Hey! There was a giant lemon cake with phallic image in alayne chapter. Do you think it some coincidence or it means something? Especially it's presented by petyr. Also Sansa and her enemies giving her lemoncakes give same vibes as Hansel&gretel story.

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

Petyr Baelish is grooming Sansa, that’s the awful truth. And he has studied Sansa, he knows what she likes/wants and he will use that knowledge in his favor.

He knows she had a distant relationship with Ned, so he becomes Alayne’s father.

He knows that Ned neglected her and that she always craved for her father’s validation, so he gives her that, he praised her wits for example, and called her clever and smart. 

If Sansa says something like “I can’t” or “I don’t know”, he is there to encourage and support and tell her “you can do it” & “you know it”.  

He knows she loves knights and tourneys, so he allows her to organize a tournament, whose winners will belong to a kind of “Kingsguard” for Sweetrobin, based on the child’s favorite hero of the legends: The Winged Knight, Ser Artys Arryn.

He knows she loves lemon cakes, so he gives her a giant lemon cake.    

The Tyrells has used the same strategy:

"Sansa," Lady Alerie broke in, "you must be very hungry. Shall we have a bite of boar together, and some lemon cakes?"

"Lemon cakes are my favorite," Sansa admitted.

"So we have been told," declared Lady Olenna, who obviously had no intention of being hushed. "That Varys creature seemed to think we should be grateful for the information. I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems to me they're only men with the useful bits cut off. Alerie, will you have them bring the food, or do you mean to starve me to death? Here, Sansa, sit here next to me, I'm much less boring than these others. I hope that you're fond of fools."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

We all know how much Sansa loves her lemon cakes, but the Tyrells and Littlefinger really treat her as if she were a child like Sweetrobin:

"Will they be lemon cakes?" Lord Robert loved lemon cakes, perhaps because Alayne did.

"Lemony lemony lemon cakes," she assured him, "and you can have as many as you like."

"A hundred?" he wanted to know. "Could I have a hundred?"

"If it please you." She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair. Lady Lysa had brushed it herself every night, and cut it when it wanted cutting. After she had fallen Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so Petyr had commanded that his hair be allowed to grow. Alayne wound a lock around her finger, and said, "Now, will you get out of bed and let us dress you?"

"I want a hundred lemon cakes and five tales!"

I'd like to give you a hundred spankings and five slaps. You would not dare behave like this if Petyr were here. The little lord had a good healthy fear of his stepfather. Alayne forced a smile. "As my lord desires. But nothing till you're washed and dressed and on your way. Come, before the morning's gone." She took him firmly by the hand, and drew him out of bed.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance

The Giant's Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon within the Vale of Arryn, extending three and a half miles above the the valley below.

The great-grandfather of Petyr Baelish was a Braavosi sellsword that came into the Vale of Arryn at the service of Lord Corbray. His line was continued by his son, who became a hedge knight and took the head of the Titan of Braavos as his sigil.

As I mentioned in this post, a sword, Ice in particular, works as a phallic symbol in Sansa’s chapters. 

So, we can also make this association:

The Titan of Braavos = A Giant

The Giant’s Lance = Tallest Peak

Lance & Peak = phallic symbols 

Lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance = I don’t want to write it 

We can also say that Petyr Baelish is “compensating” his “shortfalls”, after all he is a short man called Littlefinger.  

Yes, I think this giant lemon cake could be seen as a phallic symbol and it makes sense with Littlefinger grooming her... yikes

¡¡¡SOMEONE SAVE HER PLEASE!!!   

My friend @lostlittlesatellites has already wrote about these subjects, giant lemon cake as phallic symbol and Hansel and Gretel story: 

I argued that lemon cakes in Sansa’s arc actually spell people trying to exploit Sansa’s weakness in an almost Hansel & Gretel way and a betrayal that follows.

“Interestingly Sansa’s first chapter in AGOT poses questions that will drive majority of her arc. Her desire for a courtly life in the South will not only prove to be hollow but worse a dream that turns into nightmare. Sansa asks two questions: “What could you want to see? It’s just fields and farms and holdfasts” and “Why would you want to ride a smelly old horse and get all sore and sweaty when you could recline on feather pillows and eat cakes with the queen?”

The world is larger than Sansa has been taught to believe, reclining more inward into her dreams with the strict regime that she taught to look away from the window. She doesn’t think she is prepared enough and that she needs more training. Yes, she doesn’t know enough but neither does Arya or Bran or Jon. Having Sansa finally leave her cage after completing her tutelage under Littlefinger is continuing that student-teacher dynamic she has had since Septa Mordane. People come to love the security of the cage they live in too long. This is why it takes so long to take out the fear of the outside from Sansa because the fact that she has barely any experience keeps her thinking she needs someone to rely on.

[…]

The “Feather pillows and cakes with the queen” part represents the glamour that attracts little boys and girls like Sansa. However, it is hollow as Sansa comes to realise about many things. In fact, people offering Sansa lemon cakes in Sansa’s storyline often forebodes a betrayal from the person offering it. Cersei offers her lemon cakes and a few chapters later she has Lady executed and even later, she has Ned arrested. Olenna offers Sansa lemon cakes, which Varys offers as valuable information to bring her guard down in order to lure her into her trap of marrying her to Wilas and getting hold of Winterfell and the North. They have her wear the murder weapon, which could implicate her for Joffrey’s murder even if their target is Tyrion. Littlefinger is offering her a 12 foot phallic shaped lemon cake in Sansa’s TWOW chapter. Given how happy Sansa is in this chapter that she is almost forgetting that she isn’t Alayne, the food is way too lavish when Winter is coming and along with this trend with lemon cakes, the clock is going to strike 12 and the illusion is going to break very soon. Soon Sansa will prefer riding those “smelly horses” and getting sweaty and sore in order to escape over those lemon cakes and feather beds offered by untrustworthy people. For Sansa’s arc to be fulfilling she has to experience the lives of small folk up close before she helps them. As a character whose view range is often myopic, she has to be put in the middle of the lives of the small folk to truly understand them.”

I highly recommend you to check @lostlittlesatellites blog, she’s a great ASOIAF meta writer, you can read more about these subjects here and here. She covered a lot of themes and symbolisms around Sansa in the Vale, some of them very disturbing regarding Littlefinger’s present and future actions against Sansa...   

But despite all that, since GRRM is a writer that likes to give different meanings to a same thing, there are also some very interesting details that are worthy to mention about the real Giant’s Lance:

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well. 

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King.  

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

I can see strong dragon imagery here... 

I already wrote about how Sansa wishing falcon wings could be foreshadowing of her getting dragon wings.  

Here I also listed all the similarities between Jon and Sweetrobin.

But the most interesting detail is that the real Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow. 

Sansa’s Vale arc has a lot of connections with Jon Snow, like this parallel that I called “Children of the Mountains”.

There is also the names of the waycastles Stone (Alayne) and Snow (Jon).

And one of my favorite Jon Snow reference in Sansa’s chapters, the ghost wolf, big as mountains:

All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

So, 

The Giant’s Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon.

The Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow.

Sansa compared those mountains with a giant Ghost Wolf.  

I’m sorry Littlefinger, you can’t touch this girl!

Thanks for your message.

[anonniemousefics]

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Twenty

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Dear Inej,

Thank you for always being so nice to me even if I didn’t do much to deserve it. Thank you especially for the nice, warm clothes and the good soup. My Aunt Millie makes good soup, too, but it’s not as good as yours. But that’s okay. I think I’m going to like Leflin anyway.  

Thank you for all you’ve done for kids like me. I think there are lots of us who would try harder to do the right thing if there were more people like you.

I hope Mr. Brekker feels better soon.

Love,

Artie  

---------------------------------------------------------------------

(Marked at the top: “Jesper: Please read to Wylan”)

Dear Wylan,

I’ve had some time to think and look back on the events of the last month or so, and I began to feel like something was strangely out of balance. It took awhile to recognize what it was – perhaps someone a little kinder might have realized it sooner. It was this: you have not been given enough credit.  

Don’t let Jesper not read this bit to you. His ego can handle a few minutes on the sidelines. Wylan, I think it might have actually been you who saved my life.  

I’ve heard every angle, and I’ve pieced together the whole scenario. I’ve well-aware that it was a collaborative effort to haul me out of Ketterdam for treatment. But it was you who was stuck with the perhaps insurmountable task of keeping me sane.

(And Ambroos, too. Let’s be honest: he did most of the work.)

So, I thought you should know that I saw it and I won’t forget it. I won’t forget that when I was half-awake and confused and disoriented, it was you who kept reminding me where we were. I won’t forget that when none of my limbs were working quite right, you were the one assuming the unfortunate responsibility of helping me drink. You were the one walking the ward with me. You were the one playing along with endless card tricks. You were the one trying to get me to laugh when the aggravation and the frustration started to swallow me whole.  

You’re a good man, Wylan Van Eck, and an even better friend. One of the best. You have been fearless and determined and self-sacrificing, and for all that and more, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.  

Sincerely,

K. Brekker

(an addition at the bottom)

No. Still too sentimental. DISCARD.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------

(in the folder marked: “Nina”)

Dear Nina,  

I’m writing you today from outside a little café in Shriftport, and I’m realizing I had the opportunity to give you all of my letters and I FORGOT. Honestly, how are we so bad at this? Of course, we were all a little preoccupied, what with the jailbreak and the escape and the chaos of locating Artie while outrunning Stadwatch, and then gorging ourselves on inordinate amounts of award-winning cake. BUT STILL. I hate to think you might be thinking that I’m not writing you. I am writing you everything.

Now that we are in Shriftport, I’ve paid to have The Wraith dry-docked for maintenance for the next couple of months, and the crew has been given pay and leave to explore Novyi Zem to their hearts’ content. Kaz and I are about to embark on the same; although, we’ve been saying this for about three days now and haven’t made it out of the city limits. There’s just a lot of sleeping and eating to be done first. I think all the excitement finally caught up to us, and, Nina, I am exhausted. And because of that, there’s not been much of a plan formed, but for once, I think that’s okay. And I think Kaz agrees. We know it may be a couple months until all the buzz dies down in Ketterdam and it’s safe to dock again. Not much to do until then.

Right now, we are taking each day as it comes. He is alive and recovering, and that is all that I need for now. We’ve been staying in a little room at an inn that overlooks the port. Whenever I fall asleep, it’s to the sound of the gentle tides and far off seagulls. And Kaz’s heartbeat. I haven’t quite shaken what it was like to count them in the dark and worry that each one could be the last. I suppose, as with all things, that fear will pass with time. (And, if I’ve I started to get too worried, at least he still grinds his teeth.)

So, for now, I’m going to eat my weight in sweet rolls. We’re going to take some long, slow walks through town. I’m going to hold his hand, and I’m going to imagine we have all the time in the world. I’m going to make the most of what we do have.  

As I will with you, darling Nina, when you’re back in Ketterdam again.

All my love,

Inej  

---------------------------------------------------------------

My darling Kaz, treasure of my heart,

Will you still write me letters sometimes? I’m starting to miss them.

Love,

Inej  

-------------------------------------------------------------

My dearest, weirdest Inej,  

I am literally two feet next to you.

- Kaz  

----------------------------------------------------------------

My dearest and nearest Kaz,

But I miss them. You have a way with words on paper that I hold very dear. At least write to me what you’re thinking right now.

Love,

Inej  

-------------------------------------------------------------------

My captain, my queen, my Saint,

Whatever you require. I am yours to command.

I am thinking of Ambroos, and how I wish I could write him a letter. I’m also thinking we ought to find a shadier spot on this beach, unless you’d like to see me fry.  

Signed,

The very pale fellow on your left  

--------------------------------------------------------------------

My dearest pale fellow,

How about now? Are you still thinking of Ambroos now?  

Yours,

Inej

(in Kaz’s handwriting)

No.

(in Inej’s handwriting)

Tell me what you are thinking now.

No. Write it down.

Write it down so I can read it again when this is over.

My dearest Inej,  

So, you require a bit of prose for posterity. You want to remember this day, this moment, and I can’t fault you for that. It’s a nearly perfect one. For you, I will attempt to make it memorable.

What am I thinking right now, you’ve asked? Surprisingly, not much. It’s a welcome reprieve, believe me. At present, I am taken by the sea breeze in your hair. I’m mad for how it spreads out around you when you’re in the sand. I’m thinking about wrapping my fingers in it, maybe tugging it while I kiss you, but I’m also thinking there are quite a few people around, and maybe you wouldn’t like that so much. Maybe later.

I am thinking about what you’ve written here – about wanting something to read when this is over, and I think I haven’t made myself clear. I intend to make this a habit, Inej, as long as you will. Facing down death always does have a way of clarifying things. I know you have the same sense of duty to the sea as I feel toward Ketterdam, but that hardly means this is something we should only do once. Don’t you agree? Isn’t that what you what you wrote to me of, that long night in the warehouse district – a chance to try to rethink the life we’re each leading?

I don’t really know what I’m proposing, if I’m being honest. More, I suppose? That sounds about right. That sounds like me. More of you. More of us. Whatever that looks like. More of me at sea? More of you in Ketterdam? Some complicated combination of both? Logistical nightmares don’t scare me; you should know that by now. If there is a deal to strike here, then I’m open for negotiation.  

Though if we’re really shedding the armor, Inej, I’ll put all my cards on the table. This is all I’ve ever wanted. Just you. Just this.  

So, name your terms. My heart is already yours. It has always been yours.

Kaz  

(in Inej’s handwriting)

Prepare yourself. I’m about to kiss you in front of all these people.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

(accompanying a small bouquet of dried geraniums)

Good morning, Mrs. Brekker,  

I stepped out to hunt down an acceptable breakfast. Don’t get up. I’ll be back with sweet rolls in 10 minutes.

And, for gods' sake, don't get dressed.

Yours,

Kaz

THE END

[atomicstrawbrys]

Sometimes Devils Aren’t That Bad

Warnings: Some cursing, brief mentions of death and alcohol abuse.

Summary: Arthur’s job as an angel is to help his human live a selfless life. Alfred’s job as a devil is to let his human be selfish. Though Arthur may be hesitant to admit it, sometimes being a little bit selfish is okay. 

Author’s Note: i wrote this a long time ago and never posted it lmao, but I’ve had a couple people request some angel/demon stuff and that reminded me that this fic exists. enjoy! let me know if you liked it! //

Morals. Standards. Conscience. A general sense of right and wrong. Every human being on earth has one- a code by which they live their lives, a line in the sand which they won’t cross. Whether they admit it or not, a person’s life is entirely based on how okay they are with stepping on others to get what they want. Some listen to that tiny angel on their shoulder and stay on that path of righteousness no matter what temptation comes their way. Some can justify looking out for themselves more than others, and indulge in the earthly pleasures whispered in their ear by their little devil.

Arthur’s job was to be that path of righteousness. Though he didn’t sit directly on his charge’s shoulder -that tidbit of information was misinformed at best- it was his job to help steer his mentee to do the right, honorable thing. He would try his best to put them in situations where they would be encouraged to do good and to collaborate with other angels to bring them into contact with holier, wiser influencers on earth. 

His...colleague...Alfred’s job was to do the opposite. Alfred, for all his charm, was a devil, one who thrived on encouraging nasty habits and trying to get their human involved with a bad crowd. Alfred was the perpetual thorn in Arthur’s side, made only worse by the fact that they spent nearly every moment together. If he was on one side of their human, Alfred was on the other, trying to get them to do the opposite of whatever Arthur encouraged. And the worst of it all was the fact that Alfred seemed to think it was so funny to get him worked up. Alfred never suggested the human do anything too bad, not really, but it was the little things that drove Arthur absolutely mad. 

This was one of those little things. Their charge, Matthew, was sitting on his bed, phone in his hands. He was a teenage boy, just sixteen, and thankfully had not had to make any of the tough moral decisions in life yet. He was a kind, gentle and soft-spoken boy who believed in being a good person, and for that Arthur was grateful. However...he was also a teenager, and teenagers were notorious for pushing their boundaries and sometimes putting a toe across that line in the sand, just to see what would happen. Arthur was not very grateful for that. 

“Come onnn!” Alfred whined, lying on his back on Matthew’s bedroom floor. “What’s the worst that could happen! Just text him back and say you’ll go!” Matthew, of course, could not see nor hear Alfred directly- instead, the essence of his words swirled in the back of his mind, nagging at him. Ultimately it was Matthew’s decision, but both his guardians had a gentle pull. Arthur sat in the chair at Matthew’s desk, turned to face the two of them. He lightly kicked Alfred’s side.

“Matthew has a history test tomorrow, and history is his worst subject! He needs to stay home and study, so he can get a good grade and have a future!” 

Alfred snorted, looking up at him with blue eyes that always gleamed with mischief. “So what? His life isn’t gonna be determined by one little test. Besides, he really likes Gilbert, why not jump at the chance to go out with him?”

Arthur rubbed his temples with a frustrated groan. “Because Gilbert is a bad influence. He skips school, he disrespects his teachers, he drinks and has parties every weekend, and he’s definitely not going to go to college…” He shook his head. “No. No, I won’t let him influence Matthew into throwing away his future.”

The devil only shrugged and shifted his gaze from the angel over to his charge. He grinned, a little. “Sorry, Babe. Looks like Matthew’s going out.” 

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me- wait, what?!” Arthur sat up quickly, feathers on his wings ruffling.

“Yep! Text has been sent, Gil’s probably already on his way,” Alfred teased lightly, sticking out his tongue. “Suck it, Artie. Matt’s having fun.” The smile on his lips was good-natured, but, Arthur wasn’t amused. He simply huffed, crossing his arms and glowering. 

“If you think for one second I am going to just stand by and let this happen!” He got up, pacing back and forth across the room. “Do you enjoy it? Destroying someone’s life before they even get a chance to live it? He’ll start drinking and partying like Gilbert and soon his grades will slip and he’ll drop out of school and he’ll work a dead-end job for the rest of his life until he tries to rob a bank and dies in the shootout!” Arthur’s chest heaved, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He retched, and the shit-eating grin on Alfred’s lips fell away into concern. 

“Woah. Woah- do you really think that’s what’s gonna happen?” Alfred stood, walking to him and placing a hand on his arm. “Arthur, relax. We’ll go with them, okay? We won’t interfere, we’ll just..keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid. I promise I won’t egg him on.” 

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping. “...Promise?” When Alfred nodded, he seemed to relax. Just a little. “Fine. But I’m doing all I can to get him out of there if things go wrong.” Alfred conceded to that.

Arthur did have to admit that, when Gilbert showed up to the door with flowers, it was...a sweet gesture. One that Matthew seemed to like quite a bit. And, well...Gilbert’s plans for the date seemed innocent enough, too. A trip to the park, a bite to eat, and home before nine. Though Arthur wasn’t sure Gilbert would stick to his ‘plan’ -it could all be a lure to get Matthew into the car- it did sound nice. 

As the group of four headed out to the car, Alfred plucked a rose from Matthew’s bouquet. Neither Matthew nor Gilbert noticed- the bouquet hadn’t changed, not for them. Alfred had simply conjured up a replica. He held it out to Arthur, and Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“A rose for my rose,” The demon cooed, tucking the flower behind Arthur’s ear. Arthur made all the appropriate protests and indignant squawks, but ultimately he didn’t take it out. He supposed he could humor Alfred, just for a bit. He liked flowers, after all. 

The two of them didn’t ride in the car with Matthew and Gilbert, but they did fly overhead. Gilbert was true to his word and drove them straight to the local park. It was a beautiful evening- The lights strung in the trees were on, the fountain was bubbling, and the afternoon crowd was gone. A few people walked up and down the paths and enjoyed the park's amenities, and Arthur found the atmosphere overall quite cozy. 

“See? The world isn’t falling apart yet.” Alfred teased lightly, as they watched Matthew and Gilbert embark on one of the nature trails. “They’re just kids, let them live a little.” 

Sighing, Arthur watched as Matthew disappeared into the park’s adjoining forest. He...he wouldn’t go. He’d let Matthew have some privacy -the walks only took ten or fifteen minutes anyway, they weren’t long- he’d be back soon. He’d be back soon. Arthur took a deep breath, and he sat down on one of the benches, head in his hands.

“Arthur, you’ve gotta learn to relax.” Alfred sighed as he sat down next to him, rubbing the angel’s shoulders. “We’re not his parents- we just give him a little nudge.” He shot Arthur a crooked smile. “We’re like his really, really distant uncles. I’m the cool one with the motorcycle, and you’re the lame, strict one who went to Yale.” 

Arthur peeked at Alfred through his fingers, and couldn’t help but give a little laugh. “Well. At least I went to Yale.” 

“Yeah! And you know, you could have, if we were human. You’re definitely smart enough.” Alfred playfully elbowed his side, reaching over and gently prying Arthur’s hands away from his face. Arthur was smiling underneath them, and Alfred’s breath caught. His cheeks flushed red, just the slightest bit, but before he could say anything more, the chime of a bell seemed to catch his attention. 

Alfred turned, and Arthur looked over his shoulder to see what it was. An ice cream cart rolled along the path, and Alfred grinned, letting go of Arthur’s hands. “Oho! It’s our lucky day, Art. What flavor do you like?” He asked, already halfway to the little stand. Arthur didn’t even get the chance to think of what he wanted before Alfred came back with two chocolate scoops on cones, the ice cream man none the wiser. Though Arthur supposed he should probably scold Alfred for leaving in the middle of conversations or for conjuring things whenever he wanted, he couldn’t find it in him. It wasn’t hurting anyone, and, hell, chocolate was his favorite. 

They sat together, talking and joking around until Gilbert and Matthew appeared at the other end of the nature walk, holding hands and laughing. Arthur jumped to his feet, throwing the rest of his ice cream in the trash. “They’re back!” He said with glee, turning back to the demon. Alfred nodded. 

“They’re back.” He replied, seeming oddly disappointed. “On to the next stop, I guess.” 

Though Alfred’s reaction confused him, Arthur didn’t have the time to worry about it. He fluttered back to his charge and breathed a sigh of relief when Matthew seemed happy and unharmed. 

“He’s okay!” Arthur called as Alfred flew over. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

Arthur just rolled his eyes, falling in step behind the humans on the way back to Gilbert’s car. He noticed that Alfred wasn’t really following as closely, and, to his great surprise, that...upset him. He turned to face him and waved him over. The attention seemed to cheer him up, at least a little. 

Gilbert did not take Matthew anywhere fancy for dinner. It wasn’t fast food at least- instead, it was a cheap diner that specialized in an all-day breakfast. It was...a good choice. Gilbert and Matthew settled down in a booth, as did Alfred and Arthur, though they settled down on the other side so that the others would have space. 

Alfred sat down in front of Arthur and slid him a stack of pancakes over the table, having nicked a copy from another booth. He smiled, lopsided. “Well? Have you changed your mind? They seem happy.”

Arthur cut into his stack, looking over the restaurant at his charge. “I..suppose they haven’t dropped out of school and gotten matching face tattoos. Perhaps Gilbert...wasn’t as bad as I thought he was.”

Alfred smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course he wasn’t. I wouldn’t let Matthew go out with him if he was. And..you know, Arthur..I’m not so bad, either. I know I’m a devil and all that, but I’m not trying to like, turn Matthew into a murderer or anything. I like the kid- I want what’s best for him. I just want him to have fun every once in a while, too. I want him to be able to loosen up.” Alfred gave Arthur a long look. “And he’s not the only one.”

Arthur paused, staring down at his food. His brow creased as he thought, his wings drooping. “Matthew...isn’t my first charge, you know. I’ve had other humans, before..the last one, she was a disaster.” He mumbled, glancing up at Alfred, who had leaned in to listen to him. 

“No matter what I did, she was cruel and mean-spirited. She was a bully and a cheat. She was manipulative and aggressive and...I still wanted what was best for her. I tried so, so hard.” His voice trailed off, softening into a whisper. Slowly, Alfred reached over the table and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Arthur didn’t pull away. 

“She died young. It was her own fault, really- she would often drink and drive, it’s just a relief she didn’t hurt anyone else when it finally caught up to her. But...I was a failure, Alfred. She was entrusted to me, I was supposed to make her into a good person, but I failed. She died alone, drunk and hated and it was my fault.” Tears dripped onto the cheap, yellowy wood of the tables, and only then Arthur realized he’d begun to cry. Alfred took a moment, to let the information sink in before he responded. 

“You know it isn’t your fault.” he sighed. “Deep down, I think you know. Sometimes people are just..like that. All we can do is try our best to help, but sometimes we get people who aren’t ever going to listen. You did everything you could, I know you did because you do now.” Smiling again, softer this time, Alfred laced their fingers together. “Seriously. You’re like a super-angel. I’ve never had to work this hard.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “She might have been determined not to accept help. She might have been awful, but Matthew isn’t. Look at him. He’s a good kid. You don’t have to worry about him.” 

Arthur gave a long sigh, looking over the restaurant at Matthew. He really was a good kid. Being kind was just in his nature- he wouldn’t fall down the moment Arthur removed his training wheels. He could..he could manage on his own, now.

“I...suppose you’re right. But..what do I do now, then? If I don’t have to watch him?”

Alfred leaned in a little more. “Let’s...back off.” He suggested, his thumb rubbing over Arthur’s knuckles. “We could kick back, watch Matthew grow up, get married, maybe have kids...our job is easy from here on out. Let’s just relax and let him be the good person he’s gonna be. And then, maybe we could start applying to jobs as a team instead of separately if you want to work together again. We could even hang out more, just us. More days like this, if you want. I’d..I’d really like that, personally.” Arthur met his eyes. Was Alfred blushing? 

“You had fun today,” His demon continued. “I know you did. We could have fun again.” 

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, words escaping him. He wiped his eyes, then finally nodded. “Okay.”

Alfred beamed. 

When they left the diner and headed back to Gilbert’s car, Gilbert announced that he had a surprise third destination for Matthew. He probably wouldn’t be home until ten or eleven if he agreed to go, but Gilbert insisted that he’d have fun and that it wasn’t anything weird. Matthew eventually agreed, and hopped into the passenger side, pressing a little kiss to his date’s cheek.

Arthur stood in the parking lot as the car pulled out, Alfred standing beside him and holding on to his hand. 

“You’re sure you don’t wanna go? You don’t want to know what the surprise is?”

Arthur smiled, a bit sadly, and shook his head. “I’m okay. He’s smart, he’ll manage on his own.” 

Alfred stepped closer then and wrapped an arm around his angel’s waist. He pressed a kiss to his hair. “He will. You ready to go home?

Nodding, Arthur turned and walked with Alfred, the tail lights of Gilbert’s car fading away behind them. 

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 08 || Share Our Talents

The two of them had been at each other’s necks all day, a little more than usual. On the one hand, Max generally seemed to be playing around with Henry or at the very least, unaware of how much he was bothering him. But, he definitely had to be purposely upsetting him today. Charlotte… didn’t want to get involved. In general, she was a peacemaker, and specifically, she was their peacemaker. But… This was supposed to be a fun weekend!

She had been having a blast with Oyster, who wanted her to try to do his hair like hers. “Your hair isn’t the right texture for this style.”

“Can you do it to Angus?” He wondered. Angus’ afro was 3c, maybe 4a, so close enough to her curl pattern where she might.

“What makes you think that Angus wants this hairstyle, Oyster?” Charlotte asked.

“I’ll take it,” Angus said, laughing. Charlotte then proceeded to make rows of braids on the sides of Angus’ head, pulling up into a fro hawk, as he played videogames.

On the other side of the room, Henry glared at Max and Ray came up with a plan, “Look at that! Look at that!” He said.

“What?” Henry and Jasper wondered.

“Charlotte and the puffy haired kid. They’re hitting it off, right?” He asked. “What if… he asked her out on a date?”

“She’d say no,” Henry said, at the same time Jasper said, “He’d get embarrassed in front of his friends.”

Ray rolled his eyes and said, “You kids no nothing. I’ve gotten rid of a TON of women by just pushing them off on somebody else and I’m sure that I can get Charlotte off of that kid you hate, the same way.”

“Charlotte’s NOTHING like anybody that you’d date,” Henry tried to point out to him.

Meanwhile Jasper said, “You can’t outsmart Charlotte, Dude.”

But Ray was on his way. He flopped down next to the two and made Charlotte mess up her current braid. She scoffed and looked at him. “So… This is cute,” he said and pointed between the two. Angus glanced at him, confused. “You two look… mighty cute together. Anything in common?”

“Max,” Angus said. This was Max’s girlfriend, as far as he could tell.

“Oh, that guy, yeah. I don’t see how either of you are friends with him, if I’m being honest, but you’re JUST friends, right Charlotte?” Ray asked. She laughed nervously while Angus got distracted from the game to look up at her reaction, messing up the same braid again.

“Yeah, yeah, we are,” She said, then told Angus, “Eyes front, Bro. I’m almost done.”Angus returned to the game, but Max had just won the match. He groaned, but this wasn’t Max’s girlfriend? That was… interesting… But, she definitely wouldn’t be interested in him though. She seemed really smart and stuff. He was some artsy dude who embarrassingly had once referred to himself as a living Drake song.

“Well, I think that you would be adorable together,” Ray said.

“You don’t know anything about this guy,” Charlotte told him.

“I know that he’s beautiful. His voice is very soothing. His hair is nice and full. He’s great at video games. He has fashion sense, I think… for your generation, I guess. You like fashion and video games, too.”

“I’m a musician!” Angus said, more to Charlotte than Ray.

“Charlotte LOVES music!” Ray said, giving him a playful punch in the arm. Charlotte squinted her eyes at Ray. What was he up to? “You know, she was in a band once?”

“I was too, with Max,” Angus said. “Now, I have my own. I make tracks, they’re kinda rock, kinda rap, but not like that metal rap stuff from your day. Good, honest rap and good honest rock. It’s a vibe, really.”

“My day?”Ray repeated. “I’m not that old…”

“So, there’s like an age gap between you and your partner?” Angus wondered.

“My partner?”

“He thinks you and Schwoz are together,” Charlotte presumed and clarified.

“WHAT?” Ray said and now, he was done speaking to this guy. He returned to Henry and Jasper and told them, “Not gonna work. Kid’s a complete moron.”

“You sure about that Mr. Schwartz?” Henry asked, laughing. But, they heard Angus ask Charlotte, “So… You’re… really single?”

She laughed and looked at him, “I don’t know how anybody finds the time not to be, to be honest. I’m single by choice. I have no idea why he’s trying to play matchmaker. He’s not good at it. He’s not good at most things…”

Angus got eliminated and sighed. Two losses for him, then. “Well, yeah… I can’t imagine what somebody like you would see in me,” he said.

She furrowed her eyebrows and said, “All done! We oughtta take selfies.”

Max was watching the whole time. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he felt territorial, nonetheless. Technically, he knew that he probably shouldn’t be. Charlotte was very independent and wasn’t officially his, and even if she was, she was the type to value her freedom and love someone who could trust her to be around anybody else. But, not everybody else knew her like he did. He had paid a lot of attention and learned a lot of information. While Angus might be hitting it off with her or was happening right now, he had no idea that their little whatever was happening right now, he had no idea that their little superficial brief connection was cutting into Charlotte’s lunch time.

Soon, her blood sugar would be low, she’d be cranky and ready to snap at people, then be mad that she had to fix something  to eat/that she had let herself get hangry.

Max left them to their laughter and such and went to fix her a sandwich, some fries, put a few cookies on the plate, and make some tea. He set everything down and went outside to grab some flowers, just to accent the tray. Whenever he got back inside, she was getting up from the couch with her grouchy face on…"Char!“ He called.

She looked up, and he could tell that she was about to brush him off because she needed to get something to eat, so he spoke quickly as he handed her the tray, “Made you lunch. I know that you’re approaching hangry hours.” She stared at the tray for a moment as he announced, “Grilled gouda BLT with arugula and spinach and honey mustard, fries, lemon white chocolate cookies and a chai latte… Your… brunch order, right? Whenever you call The Deli Royale? I just… hacked into their system for the recipe so I could make it for you at home for a fraction of the price… free to you!”

She looked up at him, and he could see in her eyes that he had won. She stepped closer and smiled, picking up a fry. “Wanna share?” she asked.

“Not really hungry, but might grab a few fries.” They sat at the island and chatted while she ate and touched him casually, numerous times. They were sitting close, knees touching and he leaned in to tell her stuff the entire lunch.

“So… Are you on truce with Henry right now?” She asked. “You two sure seemed out for blood earlier.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “He was out for my blood. I basically was just plucking him in the forehead. You know that if I ever actually wanted to come up against Henry, he’d be destroyed.”

“I appreciate you holding back for him,” she said with a little smile.

“I don’t do it for him.”

“You know, you’ve said that before to me, but you never expound. You do it, why? For the sake of being a hero? Because you’re bigger than that or something?” She wondered as she took a sip of her drink.

“I do it for you,” he said, as plainly as one might say ‘hello.’ She choked on her latte and he winced. She laughed at herself by the time she stopped choking and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he said, blushing. “You all set to destroy these guys?” He asked.

“Yep!” She was about to take her dishes away, but he grabbed the tray from her, kissed her on the temple of her head, which she leaned deeper into, and he smiled against her skin and went to put the dishes away. Charlotte slowly slid off of the stool to go back to the others, unable to stop smiling about what had just happened. That was… not platonic, right? That was definitely not her imagination. Max had made her lunch, told her that she mattered and kissed her on the face. Sure, friends did stuff like that, but… This didn’t feel like that.

“Where’d you vanish to?” Oyster wondered when she showed up again.

“I was right there, at the island, having lunch,” she said and pointed to it. Max laughed from the kitchen… which was open to the living room. “Or, are you messing with me, Oyster. Because, I honestly can never tell if you’re actually confused or pulling my chain.”

“I actually have never joked about anything, ever in my life. I’m a very serious person,” he said. Charlotte sat down in between Oyster and Angus as Angus played against Henry. Max came to the couch and Oyster and Charlotte slid over so that he could be in between her and Angus.

.

Whenever Henry and Max played against each other, they were bickering again. Charlotte laughingly watched them, but the more that they played against each other, the uglier it got. “I mean, maybe I won’t beat you in this game, but I definitely think that there’s something that I have to be able to beat you at.”

“Whenever you think you’ve figured out what that is, let me know and I’ll be happy to prove you wrong,” Max retorted and stuck his tongue out.

“Invoking Best Friend Privilege for Charlotte to tell me Max’s weaknesses!” Henry declared, on the verge of losing the match.

Charlotte’s legs were draped across Max’s lap as she listed off on her fingers, “Well, I know for sure that you can’t defeat him in anything academically especially not math or science related, he’s a former tennis champ, master of pranks (Henry scoffed, but he knew that it was probably true. Max was smart. Smart goes a long way with pranks), his Hero Tracks shows that he’s got more hero credentials than you, he’s whupping you in video games…”

“I asked for weaknesses, not to add insult to injury while he decimates me!” Henry fussed at her.

“SORRY! I’m doing the process of elimination out loud!” She fussed right back. “For instance, we know that he can cook AND ALSO bake, he plays guitar, is good with animals and babies… OH! Can you draw?” She wondered. “Henry is pretty artistic. Remember that time you carved that pumpkin to look like Ray?” She asked Henry, excitedly hoping that she was helping, because Max had just beat Henry and Henry had fallen back onto the couch in exhausted defeat.

“I can draw. Remind me to show you some of my gadget designs and portraits,” Max said, coolly, then asked Henry, “Can I get you some ice, Hen?” He smiled as Henry slammed the controller into Schwoz’s hands.

“He’s not good at writing,” Oyster said. “Remember those songs you used to try to write?”

Max narrowed his eyes at him, but just as well, because Charlotte shook her head and said, “Henry sucks at writing. Jasper’s the writer of our group.”

Max’s head turned quickly towards her and he pointed a pinky at Jasper and asked, “That Jasper?”

“He’s the only one I know,” she said, defensively. Jasper lowkey worshiped Max. There was no need for him to start being ugly to him. “He could’ve helped you write a song, Mr. Extra Toe.” Max chuckled and handed off his controller to Wolfgang. Charlotte tilted her head, trying to think. “Oh! He’s good with flowers!” She cheered, excitedly.

“Once brought a plant back from the dead,” Max bragged.

“It became a room sized monster,” Nora reminded him.

“So, I made it EXTRA alive!” Max said. His sister rolled her eyes.

“I need to know that story,” Charlotte said. Max moved his mouth to begin, but she cut him off. “Not now, though. Jasper… I’m invoking Best Friend Privilege for you to remind me of Henry’s strengths as his best friend and soulmate.”

Henry frowned. He couldn’t BELIEVE that it was this hard for Charlotte to tell him something that he could be better than Max at. But, Jasper was READY to be tagged in. He yelled, “Dance Battle!”

Henry’s ears perked up, but when Max smirked, his shoulders sank. “Are you a dance champion too?”

“I mean… not a champion, but if you’ve seen me fight, you should know that I’m very fluid and agile… also I’ve danced for many years.”

“Didn’t you have a dance battle at a school dance one time?” Nora asked.

“Sure did. Dude got served. Then, I swerved on the girl that I battled for.”

Charlotte sat up more erect and asked, “It was for a girl?”

“Mostly for my pride. After she chose me, I realized it was really pitiful that I was willing to put all those moves into getting her to like me.” She nodded, but she looked bothered. “You… okay?” He asked.

“Sure.” She laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then, after Jasper yelling out random things, Charlotte finally said, “Brotherhood!” Max furrowed his eyebrows. “No offense, but whenever we met you, you sold your sister out and while that may have changed by now, your siblings are here way less than Piper is and Henry NEVER would have done anything to ever hurt, harm or shame Piper, all the years of her life, so… I’ll say that. And, it’s gonna have to be enough for Hen, because I have racked my brain.”

“Max has DEFINITELY done a lot of crappy things as a brother,” Nora said, nodding her head. She and Billy began to list off some stuff while Henry gave Charlotte a high five.

Max smiled and said, “Well, at least there’s that, Henry Hart.” Then, he began a slow applause that made Henry feel less excited about the small victory.

Charlotte placed a hand on Max’s and stopped him, giving him a look and mouthed the words, “For me?” Her eyes did the questioning. Would he stop bothering Henry right now , for her? He immediately stopped taunting Henry and intertwined his fingers with Charlotte’s.

“Anything,” he whispered.

[arthurflecksgirl]

Arthur Fleck fanfic REFLECTIONS Part 4 and 5

https://arthurflecksgirl.tumblr.com/post/611240473049333760/arthur-fleck-fanfiction-reflections-part-1-3

LINK TO PART 1,2 and 3 above

Some sweet, romantic Arthur fanfiction about taking care of him and giving him the love he deserves.

Involves some romantic sex.

Part 4 "Oh,Kitten. I don`t know what to say" Arthur got a big smile on his face as he roles off of me and takes me in his arms. "I got lost in you. It was like everything else in the world disappeared. I never felt so close to anyone. This is what true happiness must feel like". My head is lying upon his chest, which is lifting up and down from still trying to catch his breath. I can`t belive what he just said. He felt true happiness. And I am the reason? I feel my eyes watering and take a deep breath of his skin. "I know. I felt the same with you. " I whisper in his ear "I felt compleate with you inside of me. Like you should have been there all the time." I lean in to kiss him. I can feel the taste of his lips with my whole body. My fingertips are caressing his cheekbones while I can feel his hot breath in my mouth. With his breath I breathe in his whole being. His whole beauty. I imagin his breath is making its way down my throath. I`m sucking all the sorrow and loneliness out of him. Make it my own. Become one with this sad eyed man which is my only desire in this life. "Keep on breathing into me" I moan between the kisses "Breathe life into me". He holds me so close to his chest its almost hurting. He might seem fragile but his arms still can be strong. "I feel like I cannot get you close enough" his arms tighten up. "Kitten, what if its never close enough?" I feel like I´m a little short of breath but at the same time I dont want him to loosen up his embrace. I kiss the red stained corner of his mouth. Softly. "I know what you mean, Arthur. But we can be this close now whenever we want." "We can?" "Sure" "You mean you really want me?" "I do, Arthur. I want everything of you. For the rest of my life. I will never taste or smell or touch anything else again. Or love" He loosens up his tight embrace to get down to kiss my chest now "Or love" he repeats. So many little kisses covering my skin. leaving stains of his face paint all over my chest. Little, red proofs that he  touched me. Kissed me. His lips are wandering down my belly as I hold his head between my hands, my fingers get lost in his soft curls. I push his head closer against my trembling body. His nose is touching my navel. It tickles. I have to laugh. He looks up to me "Do you like it?" "Oh yeah. I like it a lot, Artie" For a second I thought he will make his way down on me but suddenly he is making his shy face. "Finally" he says "Finally someone sees me"

"You know what?" I play with his hair "Today we`re going to make a picnic in the park. " "I never had a picnic before." "So today its gonna be your first" He gets up, looking very excited "I feel like thereare going to be a lot of first times for me from now on, Kitten".  He gets to the bathroom dancing to music only he can hear in his head. But I can tell its one of his favorite songs.

"Hey Artie, I will be back in like half an hour.  I jus wann go buy some food" "Okay, just take the money  in the pocket of my pants". He says while taking off the rest of his make up in the bathroom. I reach for his pants, search for the money and find some more meds in his pockets. Temazepam, Perphenazine,... He comes out of the bathroom before I can read what the other ones are. His face free from make up. "Did you find the money?" "Yeah I did" the almost empty bottle of meds still in my hands. "And my meds" he looks ashamed. "Oh, well, I`m sorry about that... I just..." "You must think I`m ..." a cough is crawling up his throath. His hands covering his mouth. "Hahahahahahahah" loud, almost agressive laughter is coming out of his mouth. "You hahahhaah must think I`m a crazy.... hahahahhahaha" "Nooooo " I run the few stept up to him "Arthur, no. I dont think you`re crazy. Look, if you need the medication to feel better, just take them okay? I will not judge you or anything" "No, Kitten hahahahah I`m metally.... hahahahahaahahha....ill....." Tears are running down his face, pain in his eyes. I wipe his tears away and give him a hug.  He is shaking so hard my whole body is shaking with him. "You haha you deserve better... Kitten, you deserve....so much...." I take his hands which try to cover his mouth from shaking and kiss his lips. He is slowly calming down "You might have some problems, Arthur. Thats okay. We can figure them out together. I will not leave you ever again. Do you hear me?" He whipes a tear from his eyes "Okay. Yes... I...I do belive you" "C`mon get yourself ready. We go buy the stuff for the picnic together" There it is. He`s smiling again, getting in his clothes. A white shirt under his brown jacket and blue pants. I button up his shirt as he looks at me like he still can belive I`m really here. "Kitten... does you memory come back in any way?" "Nahh... nothing." I smile "Anyway... dont worry about that. I don`t.  I feel like this had to happen, otherwise we wouldnt have met." "Yeah... I`m still worried, you know?" "Dont be, Artie" I get my own cothes. All black. We`re heading out the door, he lights a cigarette and we go buy some fruits and sweets before we arrive at the park. Its not a perfect summer day but its still warm enough to enjoy the weather. The park doesnt give you the same feeling as the streets do. Its not as dirty as the rest of Gotham. "How do you know the way to the park?" he asks "I thought you dont know this city" He`s got a good point there "Oh my god. I just knew. That means I must have been here before, right?" "I guess so, Kitten" We`re holding hands as we walk through the gates. "Close your eyes, Arthur" He chuckles "Why?" "Just do it" "Okay" I pick some flowes and put them into his hair. He opes his eyes "Kit.....what did you just do?" His fingers go through his hair, he is laughing from happiness as he realizes I put flowers in his hair. His puppy eyes as green as the nature around us. I have to laugh,too. He takes a flower out of his curl and puts it on my head "They look much more beautiful on you". "No they don`t" He kisses me on the forehead, humming a melody I`ve never heard before. "C´mon" I say "See this big, old tree right over there? This looks like the perfect spot to relax. Its far from the crowds" He sqeezes my hand,still humming songs, looking so happy as we walk over to place the blanket we brought with us. He lays down on his back, looking up to the sky as I unpack the food. "So....what are your fave fruits? I also got some cake and cookies and..." He looks at all the stuff beside him "Um... I dont even know... I`m never rally hungry". "Well, Artie, today you are" I smile "You gotta eat something. I can`t watch you staving yourself any longer". I know that all the meds he takes must stop his appetite but I still hope he is trying some of the food I picked for him. "Thats sweet" he says "But I´ll only eat something when you`re going to feed it to me" he smirks. "I see.... so... lets start with this" I take grape between my fingers and put it on his lips. He is eating it like he never tasted one before "It tastes good. Got more?" I feed him berries and chocoloate cookies he really seems to enjoy. He takes a rasberry by himself and puts it between his lips " Want one?" he smirks. I steal the berry from his mouth and taste his sweet lips. We kiss. He takes some bites from the cake. I´m glad he is finally eating something. "Strawberry?" I pick the one with the richest color. "Oh Kitten. I`m not used to a meal anymore. I guess I`m already full". He is rubbing his belly. I put the strawberry in my own mouth. "But it was very thoughtful of you, thank you" I put the rest of the food back in the bag and lie down beside him. Breathing in the fresh air, watching the clouds passing us by.

Part 5 The next few days went by like a dream. All was well. The world I have known wasnt important anymore, who I was before him wasnt important anymore. All I know now is that Arthur an I love each other. He didnt had one single of his hurtful laughter going on, it feels like he can relax by my side. At night we slip under the blankets together, so close to each other that sometimes I´m not sure where my body ends and his body begins. His insomnia keeps getting better. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and takes his meds. But he always gets back to bed and falls asleep again with a smile on his face and his head on my chest, so I can feel his hot breath against my skin. So I know he`s there. Right beside me. We haven`t slept together since he lost his virginity but I know he wants it. He just needs some time to belive that I´m real, since he was hallucinating a lot in the past. Today he is still asleep as I wake up. I carefully slip out of bed so he won`t wake and grab a diary I bought myself yesterday. I already filled it with some thoughts I had while watching him sleep. Mostly desires and sexual fantasies. I was hiding it under the sheets because I had the feeling he would be overwhelmed by reading it. Or even think he isnt enough. Oh he is enough. Arthur is all I want. All I need to feel satisfied. The connection we had was so much more than sex. Sometimes it feels like we are one spirit. I like to think that I am a thought in his mind. His daydream. His fantasy. He told me about the daydreams with a woman he had before and I felt like he really loved her, even though in reality she was some kind of a stranger to him. His feeling for her still feeled real. And I really hope I`m a fantasy in his head,too. He definitaly is mine. Thats why I started creating this diary, so I can express all of my desires for him. I take a look beside me. He is stretching, about to wake up. I kiss his cheek "Good morning, my love". He is touching his forehead. I once again notice the frakles on the back of his hands.I am obsessed wit details. Especially when it comes to him. I wanna find every detail he has to offer. Body and soul. The more I see of him, the more beautiful he becomes. "Morning, Kitten" he says in a tired tone. "I had the most amazing dream". "You did?" "Yeah" "Tell me about it" He smirks His smirk always makes me all fuzzy inside. "Arthur" I playfully slap his arm "Tell me" He stands up and gets a shirt. He was sleepingin his underwear, I can see his cute, little buttcheesks peeking out. "Nahh.. I...I cant tell you that" he turns his face away from me but I can tell he is blushing. "Arthur, you`re blushing" I cant help but smile from cheek to cheek. He gets into his shirt and walks up to me. Sits down at the bed. "Thats because I dreamed that you handcuffed me and I was begging you to get on top of me, touching me. And I was like.... going crazy because I couldnt touch you but it felt so good and..." I`m watching his lips, saying these words and can`t belive what I just heard. He just described one of the fantasies I wrote in my diary. Did he read it when I was asleep? Did he find it? "Arthur?" "Huh?" "Did you... did you just read my diary?" "What diary?" I can tell by his face that he dont know about my book. "The book I filled with some of my fantasies about you" "You got a book with fantasies about me?" I guess I am the one blushing now. "I do... I mean I just bought it yesterday but... yeah." "Can I...can I read it?" his eyes lighten up. "Sure" I grab the diary and hand it to him with excitement as he starts reading the first page. He looks very serious and concetrated. But his eyes  are filled with joy. He reads all the filled pages. All the words I wrote about him. He reads it without saying a word. Then he puts the diary aside. "Kitten, you really wanna do all this stuff to me, huh?" I can feel myself getting nerveaus. "Oh god yeah, I really want to, Arthur" He leans towards me. I can feel his curls on my cheeks as he whispers in my ear "Do it then!"

My heart is racing as I heard his sweet voice saying this. "But where do we get the handcuffs from?" I chuckle Arthur leaves the room and comes back with.... a pair of... "Where did you get those from?" my eyes must be as big as his now. "Did you try it...." Arthur played with the cuffs  "No, no, no its not like that... I... " He hands me the handcuffs  "I stole them from Arkham hospital a year ago... don`t ask" . I`m nodding. I didnt knew he was in a mental hospital before. For a moment I realize there mustbe many things I dont know about him yet. I missed 35 years of his lfe, which makes me sad. I wish we could have met sooner. I stand up and let the handcuffs swing in front of his face "So... Mr. Fleck...you are arrested for being extremly attractive" we both have to laugh for a moment but it feels kinda serious as he gets in bed and spreads his arms, so I can tie him up.  I fix his hands and watch him getting excited. "Get out off your underwear" I take his underwear off and threw it  over my shoulders. He is lying on the bed. Trying to get into a nice position for me to top him. "What are you gonna do with me now?" he is almost whispering, his voice soft like a breath. "Let me show you" "Oh yeah, Kitten. Show me" "I`m gonna love every inch of your body. There wouldnt be a spot I´m leaving out. I want it all. And you can`t do nothing about it" Arthur is shaking a little, but just a little. Enough for me to notice it though. Cuz it feels like a soft vibration against my lips, which are discovering his tiney ankles. So thin and fragile. Like a porcelain doll. I put my hands around them to feel how tiney they are. I kiss his little toe, making my way up to his legs. I kiss every inch, every frackle, every spot and taste the different parts of his now trembling body. Soft moaning from his mouth. "I`m all yours, Kitten. i´m all yours. " I kiss the insides of his thighs. He is breathing heavier now. "Turn around" "What?" "Turn around Arthur. I want to see your butt" He turns around, his hands tied behind his back. My hands caress his cute, peachy butt. Grabbing his cheeks as he moans. I cover his butcheeks with kisses, let my hand wonder between his legs. Forward. He`s getting hard now. " "I see you enjoy it, Arthur?" He pushes his face against the pillow as my fingers play with his most sensitive parts. "I do...oh my god, Kitten. Please don`t stop! Keep on touching me like that!" I`m grabbing him and turn him around so he is on his back again. Kissing him where he is getting harder any second. My hands are all over his chest, his arms. My lips wondering all over his body. "This feels so good. I cannot take it anymore" "You have to" I press my lips against his neck and start to suck it. I can smell his hair. My left hand is in his curls, my right hand is reaching for his cock. I`m biting his neck. His breath is getting more and moreintense, his eyes are closed. Those eyelashes. I cannot take my eyes off of his eyelashes. Details. More details. I take a close look on his face while ´there is nothing but excitement. His face expression turns me on in a way I cant even describe it.  I try to contain the taste of his neck as I suck his skin till it turns blue. "You like that?" "Don`t stop. I am begging you.. " I let my tongue slide over the scar upon his lip. Its my fave part of his body. All his details deserve so much love. I can feel his lip twitching while my tongue is playing with it. I can feel my body screaming out for him to  fill me up. I change my position, he is opening his eyes, looking right into mine. "Fuck me, Kitten! Oh I need you hands to love me. I need your lips to kiss me like that. I want you so bad. Don`t you ever stop loving me like that" I get on top of him and take him all in. All the way inside. "I wish I could touch you" he moans. Waves of excitement all through his body I take the key and uncuff his hands while he is still inside of me. As soon as he is free his hands are pressing me against him, so hard I can barely move anymore. But it feels just right. He is pushing himself inside of me, his tongue in my mouth. The taste of cigarettes and passion. He is kissing my earlobes now, sucking them. I never felt more happiness in my lfe. Feeling his gentle movements inside of me. I swear I can hear him humming a song between his whispered moaning. "You feel me?" he says "Yeah" "You`re really here with me arent you, Kitten?" "I am" "Thisis not a dream. we`re one" "We are, Arthur." And as I know he feels the same. That we are one soul. One body. I explode with excitement. Just like him.

[eagesoldartblog]

Pay It Forward Chapter Two: Coming Home

Lewis’s foot taps slowly, glowering at a scalding hot chocolate decorated with the most tacky orange color he’s probably ever seen.

His name is Arthur Kingsmen.

Counting down from ten, he calculates each breath. Each puff giving away more of the bubbling anger threatening to explode.

He’s a mechanic, the head mechanics nephew.

Thick, sweet smells muse around him. Hands tightly laced together, shaking lightly.

A generous person, he paid off your car with the blink of an eye. Grinding his teeth, the tap tap taping quickens faster and faster, relentless and angry.

And I don’t have the cash or ability to pay him back. Chewing on his cheek, he finally lets out a strained sigh.

“Are you going to keep pouting, or what?” Vivi’s voice snaps Lewis from his trance, dampening his anger at once, “Or are you still pissy mcpisserton?”

Lewis blushes, shoulders sinking, “Is it that obvious..?”

Vivi slides the tray across the table and tears into her own croissant, shrugging, “Yeah, you’re brooding again.”  

Lewis glares at her, rolling his eyes and sipping from his hot chocolate, “A bit on the nose, don’t ya think?”

“On the nose is my middle name,” Vivi smirks, gulping back her own coffee, “But legit, what’s with the sour attitude? Arthurs chill, he would have done it anyway.”

He shoots her a look, scoffing, “He would have? Are you kidding me-?”

“Wow,” Vivi interrupts him, grinning, “Didn’t take you for a financial advisor, Lewis. Or better yet, you lookin’ for a sugar daddy to help pay off your loans?” Lewis- mid sip- chokes on his hot chocolates, face burning and eyes wide.

“No. That’s no-”

“Either way you’re out of luck, he owed me a favor,” Vivi smirks, “But its cute that you think that~”

Lewis huffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Keeping it up for... who knows how long, Vivi wasn’t counting and wasn’t about to. She leans forward, a smirk twisting across her face.

“You’re blushing, Lew Lew~”

He was. The darkened warmth across his face made it entirely noticeable that he either drank too much of his drink too quickly, or was fixated on a certain someone. Vivi was willing to bet at this point.

“I’m- I- it’s cold outside.” He tries.

“It’s actually a Mild-day.”

“There was a draft breeze.”

“And we’re no where near a window, so that was probably you~” Vivi teases, wholly expecting the less than rough warning tap against her shin.

“I mean, if it is about Artie, who can blame ya? The guys a golden ticket in disguise of a man. Plus, he’s hot-“

Lewis could blows steam from his ears with how heated his face was, “Vivi, please. It’s not a crush, I wouldn’t have a crush on someone after one meeting.” He hisses, pointing his finger at her gruffly.

Vivi could only laugh, kicking her feet onto Lewis’s lap, “You did before.”

“That was different!” Lewis snaps back desperately, “Besides, Xavier was a one time thing. I know it was funny when I fancied them-”

That guy-! Vivi burst out laughing, “Oh man, I wonder how he’s going to feel when he catches wind of you falling for a different tradesmen~”

Lewis halts, frozen in place before slapping his palms against his face. ”I’ve had enough, let’s stop talking.”

“You should fill me in on why you’re still mad.”

Lewis pops up, frowning and glaring at her, “I am still aggravated, for a few reasons. But I’m still annoyed about Arthur if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Because-?”

”Because he paid all of it.”

“Well-?” Vivi shrugs, clearly confused as she takes an obnoxious bite from her hash brown, “At least you don’t have to worry about it. That was a blessing, and then…” she trials off, shrugging, “you can probably work and pay him back if you want? Hell i'm sure Uncle Lance will hire you if you want.”

Lewis blinks, confusion consuming his features as he stares at her, “I- I’m sorry? Lance?” He says, momentarily released from his out of emotional crisis.

Vivi nearly flicks her straw- just to watch his expression turn sour when he gets hit- but decides against it, “The boss? Short mechanic, Arthur's uncle, he was under the hood while we were there-“

“Okay, yes, but- why are you calling him uncle?”

Vivi crosses her arms and stares at him.

Clattering of other people eating fills Lewis’s ears uncomfortably, and he stares at Vivi quietly.

Sweat soon beads down his face from their staring contest.

Sighing, Vivi takes a long sip of her coffee, “I’m still astounded how you managed to know no one in this town despite living here.”

Lewis thumbs his fingertip harshly, considering her words carefully, “I lived on the other side of town. Besides, my mother homeschooled me and my sisters for a little while and I started working not too long after.”

“Didn’t you also join a few sports and clubs?”

Lewis nodded weakly, realizing he completely lied, “I- yes, I did. Mostly in the summer! Or... whenever I found time.”

That's right, they bonded over their affinity for going above and beyond in every field.

No wonder she remembers what information you’ve shared. His thoughts hiss and bite, giving him the faint throb of a headache. “Now it's your turn, you didn’t answer my question.”

Vivi waves him off, “Don’t get snippy it’s bad for your skin, I was getting there.” Back to a calmer state of mind, Vivi relaxes and continues, “I’ve known Arthur a good portion of my life, and he was the smart kid in high-school, so I obviously leeched off him for support.”

she takes a long sip, somehow emitting more steam than previously. As she pulls it from her lips, the haze drifts around her face like smoke, framing it well. “We hung out most days after school and I got into Lance's good graces, he’ll warm up to you after a bit.”

Interesting, they’re friends.... maybe that’s why he paid it all off? He may fancies her- but wait, didn’t she say he owed her?

“Will he take kindly to the fact that his nephew paid off the damages?”

Vivi shrugs, “I dunno, explain it to him. He might give you the bill, or not, who knows.” She says curtly, stretching her shoulders.

Lewis nods, taking more than a moment to consider the information. But he very quickly makes his judgement on his actions over the course of the coffee date. That was wildly inappropriate! Apologize this instant.

He shouldn’t ever let his emotions run wild like that, never let them take control when control wasn’t needed.

He needed to calm down.

Taking the cup, Lewis takes a sip of the remaining hot chocolate, and swallows it slowly. Focusing on the warm nutty base and the cream of the milk, how it all accentuate one another. The lingering smooth liquid soothes the burn in his throat and Lewis releases a heavy sigh, “Thank you Vivi, I appreciate it immensely.”

And yet, his mind is stuck in the meticulous fingers combing through, followed by the stench of car oil and caked in dirt.

Stop thinking of him.

A hand falls on his bicep, and Lewis jumps up in response, eyeing her suspiciously, “Don’t worry, Lew. Just let this go, because I promise you... you won’t ever be able to pay him back.” She smiles, an edge of sadism lacing her voice and Lewis can see the tempting claws trying to ensnare him.

Don’t take the bait! His mind warns, recognizing this challenging tone that always had him off and doing the strangest of things. And yet his curiosity fights against his and demands to know every secret she has hidden behind those pink glasses. You sure are getting a kick out of this, aren’t you Vivi? “I’m sorry?”

Vivi holds her hands in surrender, but her eyes speak legions if snakes, “Arthur's really difficult to pay back, I’ll have you know. So be careful with what you do for it.”

“I don’t see how this is necessary-“ he saw where she was going and he didn’t want to be the target of her tricks.

“It’s because of your thing,” she says, referring to it like it was something forbidden from speaking aloud but all so tempting, “I know how you feel about it, but it’s really a losing battle. I would suggest you just pay it forward to someone else.”

That... was not something he is capable of doing. Lewis wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that it would rip into his skull for days if he didn’t clear his debt the instant if had been set. This man would be the death of him. Lewis figures, mentally ringing his palms to release the stress.

Lewis, noticeably more agitated and determined, looks up at her starkly, “How?”

“How what?”

“How can I get back at him?” Lewis asks, owning every amount of bitterness laced in his voice. Quirking an eyebrow, Vivi sighs and rests back, “Yeesh...” she sighs, as if it only now just occurred to her that she was friends with someone who will have the best credit score no matter what. She lets out a sigh, relenting, “Okay fine. Maybe like.... invite him over to your house for dinner? That’s the only way I can really see you getting away with it. Arthurs a serious philanthropist.”

“Dinner?” Lewis considers it, going over it in his head about three times before he steels himself with a nod, “Ah! Okay, I can probably do that.”

He could do it, which is what really mattered there. It didn’t cost much and he knows how to cook, surely he can surprise and delight the pesky mechanic.

“Just a warning, though,” Vivi begins, smirking, “Don’t let him see what your making him, or let him know how much it would cost.”

This should be interesting... “Why?”

“Because, I’m ninety percent sure he will simply forward you the dollar amount of the meal.” She shrugs, knowingly however, a story must have been brewing in her stomach, and most likely about him.

Could anyone fault Lewis for thinking that?

“Such as...?”

“To put it simply,” Vivi starts, moving through her purse for her wallet, “I once brought him over and made him this typically really traditional but kinda expensive Japanese meal. He loved it, but he looked up how much it would cost and wound up giving back the cash.” Trailing off, she hums forlorning, “By the way, want me to pay...?”

”No.” Lewis says sternly, glaring almost in his response, switching to a sweet and gentler tone in the next, “I’ll pay for it, this time, okay?”

Vivi nods, standing up and stretching, “Alrighty~ try not to go bankrupt with your tip!” She jokes.

Just because she mentioned it, Lewis made sure the tip was double the amount of the bill. Walking down the street, Lewis kept his gaze glued to the pavement. Drifting from the cracks and weeds in the sidewalk and its progression into a finer and cleaner white concrete. Freshly cut grass tickles his nose, bringing his attention to the stained glass he spent most of his life peering through. 

Finally, Lewis hums, lips pulling into a wide smile as his steps quicken into a jog, and then a run, joyfully bounding down the sidewalk. Instead of rushing in through the front and through the restaurant- something his parents made explicitly clear- he side stepped into the ‘backyard’. The dumpster is a good distance away, and lacking the usual foul smell most other disposal units had. Strange the difference his home had to the inner city restaurants Lewis notes, scanning the area quickly for any active workers, or even employees on their break. No one else was present.

Anxiously excited, Lewis skips up the back porch, taking half a second to admire the freshly blooming flowers of the surrounding gardens. 

“Mama!” Lewis eagerly opens the door, ducking through the door frame and stepping inside, he examines the kitchen. Glancing over the familiar surfaces, decorated and covered with various objects- from the mail divider over the bin to the dishes drying in the rack, to the pictures taped to the fridge with sprawled crayon from Paprika. 

“How cute,” Lewis’s hums, fingertips drifting from surface to surface. Taking note of various new magnets mixed in with the old. Such as a new addition of star magnets- which Lewis can only assume was meant to encourage them. Along the walls was a new collection of scenic imagery, such as snowy lakes and spectacular sunsets. The girls had been showing an interest in painting before he left, hadn’t they? He’s only glad they decided to pursue it.

A bubbling draws his attention to the stove. Ah, someone must be here then, Lewis smiles, lifting the lid and peering into the boiling pot. 

A gasp, “Lewis?”

Papa flies into view, head jutting past the wall, a tired but excited look in his eye. A basket of ripe fruits and veggies is quickly discarded on the table, just before Lewis is pulled into a hug. Hard kisses pressed against his face all over, a squeal rupturing in his ear.

“Lewis! I’m so glad to see you!”

To say he didn’t expect this would have been a bold faced lie. Wrapping both arms around him, Lewis hoists his father up.

“I miss you too,” he says, gaze drifting to the basket of freshly picked veggies and back to the pot, “Is Mama here?”

Papa draws back, lips tight and panic drawing over his face, “She left a moment ago, to go see where you were-!”

Oh no. Its Lewis’s turn to panic, “Ah- is this about the car…?” he tries, wary.

And he was right to be, Papa’s expression shifts, a grimace etched into his face. He steps back, both hands on his hip, and stares at Lewis expectantly, “Not exactly, we were more concerned on why you had taken so long to come back.” Oh, yes that would explain the frequent calls the past few days, only received in remote parts of the area. Lewis stiffens, seeing more just on the brink of his fathers tongue, “But, while we’re on the subject, I would like you to explain yourself.

Lewis sighs, “Vivi and I were taking turns driving, and she fell asleep behind the wheel. We didn’t want to keep you all waiting another night…”

The grimace grows tenfold, “We could understand if you needed to stay the night somewhere, Lewis.” His tone is even more so irate, closer to exasperation. Before Lewis could apologize again, Papa fished his phone from his back pocket, “Give me on sec- Hello darling!”

Lewis watches him trail out of the kitchen, smiling cheerfully and speaking clearly to Mama- “Yes, he just arrived.. yes, it was a sleeping accident.”

Resigning to the night of scolding he will most likely receive, he sighs. Just as a smaller presence creeps up behind him.

“Hi Lewis,” shove, Lewis stumbles a small bit, head whipping back to see a slightly taller version of-

“Belle!” His arms open to scoop her up in a hug- but her arm waved him away.

“Give me a minute.” She hisses under her breath, “Mom’ll be home soon, I gotta make sure this gets done.” Coughing into her arm, she sends Lewis a look, “Uh.. how was school?”

The twinge of awkwardness that seems to completely surround him makes Lewis hesitate. His mouth opens for a short moment, but quickly closes, “It went well. I’ll elaborate more later, would you like some help?”

“No, I’m fine.” He’s shut down faster than he thought he would. Huh, since when did she become so irritable? Perhaps teenage hormones..? He remembered being bad when he was small, … for the most part.

Shifting away, Lewis shuffles out of the kitchen, not wanting to give himself a chance to dwell on the ambiguous and faulty memories he always had, “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then. If you need anything, I’ll be here.” Barely getting a mhm in response, Lewis sighs and slinks off to his room.

His room is clean, completely dusted and the bed made perfectly. Everything was in it’s perfect place - Surely his mother’s doing. Taking it in, Lewis could hardly tell that it was still his, considering the one he had in the dorm rooms- plain white walls with two crosses, while his desk took the brunt of his anxiety and stress.

But here? It seemed as if it was just as carefree as he was before he left. Leaving Lewis with a ball of awkwardness welling inside his stomach. That, or anxiety, considering his Mother will be home soon. With enough scoldings to boot.

Grimacing, Lewis falls against his bed, collapsing against the pillow. He missed them a lot.

In retrospect, driving like that was far from safe, and it would have been much better to stay the night somewhere. He would’ve come home the next day to hugs and kisses and an attempted pat on the head, and then he would be able to focus on what was truly important.

Not… Arthur.

Scowling, Lewis twists himself over and folds the pillow over his head. Squeezing wouldn’t do a thing at all, he knew that! Repeating to himself that he needs to pay more attention to his family, his studies, and not a mechanic who shamelessly paid off his entire car bill an-

Gosh… darnit. Sighing, Lewis shoves the pillow aside, biting his lip and sagging even more. He missed them, dearly even. A pang of guilt hitting him. How on earth did he forget about his parents, his family? He was thinking of them the entire way back and for a majority of the semester, and then they slip his mind from a single encounter with him-

Lewis physically cringes.

Perhaps he should make something, as an apology for them. At the very least his parents. That car was under their name, and yet he went and smashed it.

And yet, for one reason or another, he offered to help. And then did, with no input from him on the matter.

Who was he…?

There’s a tornado of thoughts swarming his brain, each one revolving around him. The one person he didn’t want to think about anymore.

Arthur Kingsmen, a mechanic working under the head- who in turn was his uncle. He has a reputation of extreme charitability and generosity, doing things that astounded others in how much it helped, with little self benefit. An admirable trait, he’d admit. A trait that grew increasingly more infuriating for Lewis. Even if that hardly made sense.

Even more nonsensical- Arthur claimed it was because he came from a good family. What did that mean? Was he well acquainted buddy of his parents that he missed? Someone new who spent a lot of time with them while Lewis was away? A stalke- No. That’s just ridiculous, Lewis. Don’t demonize him for helping you. The angel on Lewis’s shoulder yelled.

He’s just a nice guy.

Laying back, Lewis mindlessly stares at the ceiling. Going back and forth on what was wrong with him right now? He doesn’t normally get so fixated on people, and never really for anything that made him angry! Small crushes, fascinating professors- even Vivi was the apple of his eye when he first met her. So why Arthur? Because he essentially took a huge debt of his shoulders? …. Anyone would be thrilled for this, and yet it detested him. Preposterous!

Just be thankful that you’re home, Lewis. When mom comes home, you and her will have a talk, and then you can spend as much time as you want with your little sisters. Father and Belle must have missed him, and yet he’s holed up in his room.

Sliding off his bed, Lewis creeps closer to the door, hyper aware of the creaks of the floor, and even more aware of the small sounds outside of his bedroom door. You shouldn’t be this nervous. Lewis reminds himself again and again, resisting the urge to press his ear to the door to listen for anything out of the ordinary. Lacing his extraordinarily large fingers around the doorknob, he gently opens it and steps out, padding down the hall to the living room.

Belle is lounging on the couch, engrossed in the documentary on physics she was watching (How interesting!) whilst glancing to the kitchen every few seconds.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Lewis glances up to the clock, and back down at her. A thought bubbling suspiciously, “Belle, what are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Belle flinches at his voice, a similar attribute she kept over the year, and twists around to look at him. Hm, and he thought Cayenne was the only one with an attitude.

She responds bluntly, “I had a fever last week, so they haven’t let me leave the house.” With that, she stands up and stretches dramatically, adding, “I’m only cooking because I’m hungry. I managed to convince Papi to let me buy some ramen~ so I’m going to enjoy trashing my stomach.”

“Huh, and I thought I had a drop in diet quality.”

Belle spins on her heel, the smallest pout in her face as she walks in, “Ya, sure. Makes sense that the good and holy Lew- Lew only made sure to get the HEALTHIEST of food. And Horton hears a bitch-ass liar.” the last of it comes out in a flurry of a whisper.

Gasping, Lewis spins his head around to see if his Papa was standing over their shoulders, just in case. Although for her to be saying that, they had to be in the clear. “I could smack you, Belle.”

”Do it.”

There was no way he could simply go and smack his little sister.

But he can to a brat.

He follows after her, ducking under the archway, and quickly bops her cheek. Not enough to hurt badly, but similar enough time show that he isn’t accepting of those words out of her mouth. Belle, not turning away from her pot of instant garbage noodles, slams her elbow back into him- tries to at least.

“Hey-!”

Lewis smirks back at her, filling a glass with water and sipping lightly, “What? You earned it.”

Face twisted, Belle opens her mouth like she was about to retaliate, but slumps with a huff, “I was hoping college would eradicate your third parent syndrome. That’s suppose to be my thing.”

“The only reason it wasn’t was because I didn’t want you to grow up too quickly,” Lewis admitted, shrugging, “Besides, I still am your older sister.”

“Sometimes,” Belle points out, and it looked like she was ready to point something else out before Lewis patted her head in a completely patronizing way.

“On weekends and some Wednesdays,” Lewis chuckles, “regardless, I have a guilty conscious if I don’t ever help out.”

“Well you took away our jobs around the house.” Belle says, tearing open the packet of powdered broth, “You want bratty sisters, Lewis? That’s how you get em.”

“Well, Mama will be there to ensure that doesn’t happen.” Lewis takes another sip of his drink to hold up the air of “sophistication” as Belle rolls her eyes.

And right on cue, the door opens, familiar footsteps walking in and an air of dread slamming Lewis directly in the stomach. “Mama-!” He rushes past Belle, who he faintly heard mention that he’s in trouble~ as he went in and faced the beast.

The piercing gaze is the only that stops Lewis in his tracks, and any apology he had in his throat, now uncomfortably sitting in his throat.

“Good morning, Lewis,” She hangs up her purse, expression stony, only shifting to a soft smile as she wrapped his arms around him, “I missed you.”

Frozen, Lewis took a moment to adjust to the sweet gesture, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “I missed you too, Mama.”

“Now sit down,” Her expression turns a silvery cold, and Lewis knew in the way she distances herself that he was in trouble. Complete with folded arms and a signature glare.

Any apology he had suddenly felt inadequate.

“Would you like to have this conversation in your room?” His mother asks coldly, and Lewis barely notices that her knuckles were almost bulging from how tense they were.

“Uh-“ he stumbles, more stiff than he has been in his entire life, meekly murmuring, “my room, please.”

“Follow me.”

Lewis could have sworn he was walking to his death bed. The walk was nearly a blur, and he could only imagine what she would say when they finally closed his bedroom door.

“Sit down, let me get a proper look at you.”

… That wasn’t exactly it, but close enough.

Lewis ungracefully plops down on his bed, ruffling the blankets and clenching his knees tightly together. Hands unsurely moving from squeezing the fabric or his own fingers. Eventually he settled for clasping his hands together. Slouched- until Mama gave him a look.

Hands press against his cheek, fingers drifting from his cheekbones to his forehead to his chin in a way that’s both intensive and gentle. One of her palms holds his jaw and face steady, while she scanned every part of him delicately.

He was expecting a stern talking to, not… not this. Surely he earned a punishment for his irresponsibility, and yet she’s looking him over like she looked over Cayenne and Belle whenever they took a tumble in their earlier years. The shock must have been evident when she began prodding his knee. Mama quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, Lewis? Is something the matter?”

Lewis stumbles over his words, “A-.. I just- I didn’t think you..”

The corner of her mouth curls into a smirk, and she pays his hair, “One of my children got into an accident- a severe one at that. I’m only doing what is right,” Her face softens a tad, before taking a seat beside him, “Since you haven’t been escorted to the hospital, I wanted to make sure nothing else was wrong. No pulled nerves? Any sprains? I would like to know now so that way we can ensure you live happily.”

He shouldn’t be as moved (and confused) as he was. Of course. Of course she wanted to make sure he was okay! A twang of regret and guilt for doubting her twitches in his stomach, along with a plethora of unsavory emotions.

Then, with a sigh of what Lewis can only assume is relief, she continues, “Your father informed me what had happened. That you came home sleep deprived to see us faster. Is that correct?”

No matter what he said, the guilt burrowing in his stomach would worsen. He nods, haphazardly, “That’s partially true. Vivi was sleeping a majority of the way and she offered to drive home. But while I was asleep, she had fallen asleep behind the wheel.” The more and more he recounts this, it feels like he was accusing her more and more. With that in mind, he quickly tacks on, “Of course- she did suggest that we stop and sleep, but I figured it would have been easier to drive the final stretch-“

Mama nods solemnly, pressing her fingers against her lip- something she did when she was lost in thought- “I see. If that is the case then I’m glad to know that only that car was damaged and neither of you two.”

Gripping the sheets, he waits for her eventual added answer, there always was one. Something to reaffirm her suspicions or what Lewis could do as “punishment”.

Finally, she stands up, not before turning to him, and he faintly recognizes the glimmer in her eye, “I’d like to hear that this never happens again. And while it is being graciously handled by Arthur, I’d like you to extend your help to him for the remainder of your break.”

”What-?” he says breathlessly, shoving himself up. Wait- how did she-?

Mama quirks the smallest smile, “Well, considering he is going out of his way to ensure you will still have a vehicle before you return to school, I believe it is the least you can do to make it up to him.”

He stands there dumbfounded, hands hovering in front of him like he was about to grab something. Unamusedly, Mama watches him carefully.

“Yes? Is there an issue, Lewis? Offering your assistance for the summer is a suitable enough repayment, even more so now that he is helping you like this.”

“How-? How did you kn-“ she must have spoken to him, of course she would know that he is both paying off his car bill, as well as- “I mean.. you’re- you’re okay with him doing that?” He asks finally, tripping over his words.

“Of course I am,” she said matter of factly, flicking her finger to have him follow her out, “I figured he would have done something like this when he called. He’s always been this way.”

“Yes- but he’s a total str-“

“Speaking of Arthur,” she either didn’t catch what he was about to say, or elected to ignore it, turning to him pointedly, “You have thanked him for his generosity, correct?”

“Well- I-“ Lewis’s head swam with more thought than he could tread through, “Of course I did, but-“

She nods curtly, making her way to the kitchen, “Perhaps you can do so again when he comes over later.”

Coming over when? Lewis freezes, eyebrows knitting anxiously, “What?”

“Yes,” she responds smoothly, brushing a hand over Belles head and going into the kitchen, “I was going to bake him something for him. Have him over tonight. We were all planning for you to be home tomorrow, so nothing is fully prepared yet. However, it would be nice to have a friend over before that.”

A friend? Since when? He wanted to ask, but his words catch in his throat, and she’s already positioned in the kitchen beside the sink, clearing away the dirty dishes that had accumulated.

She glances over at him, nodding to the covers, “Please pull out the flour and eggs for me?”

Lewis did as he was told, blankly as he combs through his thoughts for an excuse- or anything that would soothe the anguish rushing over him in pounding torrents.

“... I’m still concerned on why he did it..” he admits, pulling out a large bowl to pour the necessary materials, “I don’t know why! He just- said he would pay it off..” he bites his lip, unsure if he had the mere right to say this after his mother sung the mans praises, “I’m honestly peeved over it.”

Mama straightens as he said that, pursing her lips, “Why is that?”

“I just.. I don’t know why he did! It was far from necessary.” Arthur wasn’t his friend. The two didn’t know each other. Although it was apparent his parents knew him, all the more startling. Mama didn’t respond, humming.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lewis chews on his lip, knowing fully well that she was aware of his peculiar issues.

“Perhaps prepare him something. Cake.”

“Cake?” Would he even like that..?

“In fact,” his mother continues, maybe having noticed his odd and troubled expression, “I’m sure he would appreciate anything from you, even if it was a rock.”

Lewis frowns, picking through his thoughts, “Then-.. what flavor do you think he’d like?” He asks, only to get a shrug in return- something his mother never did.

“It’s been a long while, so I’m unsure.” She said, turning to him with a faint smile decorating her face, with the smallest hint of mischief, “Would you like to take over preparations?”

Three seconds pass, but Lewis had to take one look at her face to know that she wanted him to make it. Sighing, he nods, “Sure. I can do that. Any idea what time he would arrive..?”

Mama smiles, and steps past him, pulling vanilla extract from the covers, “He gets off work at around six, so I wouldn’t doubt it that he’d arrive anywhere from half after until eight.”

Glancing at the clock, Lewis nods. He had plenty of time. At least he could make up for the damage.. in the little ways he could.

What sort of cake should he make then..? Lewis runs over the various types of cake, humming to himself. Vanilla, chocolate, banana, pumpkin, red velvet, carrot, marble, coffee..

Carrot, popping into his mind like the mechanic himself, Lewis could only frown at how the thought refused to settle. Imagining how well it seemed to match the pesky mechanic.

He better like it. Lewis nearly hisses, Or so help me god.

A laugh pulls Lewis out of his thoughts, drawing him back to his mother leaving the kitchen, “You’re lucky your father hadn’t begun preparing anything with the oven, Lewis. Now while you’re doing that, I’ll be leaving to pick up your sisters.” For barely a minute, he wondered if Vivi would taunt him for his apparent lie of his sisters needing to be picked up from “school.” But before he could think of an ‘excuse’, (more like explanation that his abuela was their teacher)

But with the shut of the front door, Mama was gone. Leaving him with his task.

Taking a deep breath, Lewis set off to work.

[providentially-demonic]

The Devil and the Dead: Chapter Twelve

So, Final Chapter is here at last. This one has fought me and fought me to write. This is the end of the main story of the Demon!Arthur AU, based on @ectoimp‘s absorbing AU sketches (Most of which can be found here!).  It doesn’t mean that this is the end of the story as a whole, there are several more side stories to be written and more adventures to be had.

I’m giving credit and kudos to @arthurtristankingsmen, @phantoms-lair, @answrs and of course, the illustrious @ectoimp for some of the discourse which guided the idea from vague AU to the story that did not want to stop running through my head.

Summary:  At first all he knew was darkness— rage, pain and the ultimate sting of betrayal.  And then Lewis opened his eyes…

Back to Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve: Reconciliation of a Sorts

They made it back to the van without further incident and Vivi held open the back door so Lewis could climb in, still carefully cradling a sleeping Mystery. He hadn’t really thought much about looking at the van when he’d first gotten in it, but now with his locket back and his senses much clearer than before, he noticed that very little had changed. Arthur’s clutter of electronic components were still in their places, if a little dusty. Lewis’s bag was still in its place, also untouched, though Vivi’s showed signs of being used recently. He nodded at the box that held their gear for when they needed to camp out in the back of the van on stakeouts. “Can you grab me a blanket? I want to keep Mystery wrapped up in one, just in case.”

Arthur shivered, his wing membranes rattling like dry leaves, but obeyed, dragging out a thick cotton blanket. Vivi took it from him with a smile and nodded to the driver’s seat, while she came to Lewis and helped him bundle the sleeping dog into it. When Mystery was a dog-burrito, Lewis shifted himself to hold the bundle of dog and blanket comfortably on the seat.

Arthur climbed back into the driver's seat and spent a few minutes arranging himself before starting the van. Lewis relaxed a little when the rumble of the engine didn't wake Mystery. Arthur carefully backed the van until he reached a place where he could turn it around. Once on the actual road, he turned on the headlights and picked up speed, a barely there smile curving his lips. Lewis could almost feel the pleasure Arthur was getting from being behind the wheel of his beloved van again.

Vivi was smiling gently at Arthur, like she too, understood how he was feeling, now that he’d gotten past the initial nervousness of driving again. The silence was comfortable and comforting, reminding them all of the time before the cave. Lewis glanced down at the sleeping dog in his arms, wondering if they would be able to reassure him that Arthur was really Arthur. Maybe they could never be what they had been before, but if they could just find some sort of balance...

Arthur pulled carefully off the road, not too far from where the cabin was, hiding the van carefully in a tangle of undergrowth. Twisting his hands together, he glanced at Vivi. “Sorry we have to walk.”

She smiled and reached over to cup his cheek. “I understand. This place has to remain a refuge... for now, at least.” Her eyes sparkled with determination. “We’re going to find a way for you to come home too, I promise.”

A muddy flush climbed Arthur’s cheeks, but he leaned his head into Vivi’s hand, eyes sliding shut. “Maybe,” he allowed softly, “But for now, this is my home too.” He opened his eyes and glanced back at Lewis. “Lewis made it that way.”

Lewis ducked his head, pleased that Arthur admitted it was a home too. For a long time, Arthur had resisted calling the place home, reluctant to call it anything but a place to stay. “It’s our home too,” he agreed, hefting Mystery carefully.

Arthur slid out of the driver’s seat and hurried to open the door for Lewis. He glanced uncertainly up at him. “Y’know, you can go home for real, right? A pair of sunglasses is all you need for a disguise. That’s not exactly gonna work for me though.” His laughter was soft and self-depreciating.

“Hey!” Vivi’s voice was sharp and she slid out of the van to fix Arthur with a glare. “We’re gonna find a way, so don’t you even start that!”

Arthur wilted under her look.

Lewis sighed. “We’ve been over this, Artie. I might go home for a visit, but until you can go home for real, my place is here with you.” He tilted his chin up as is daring Arthur to say otherwise.

“Darned skippy, buddy boy.” Vivi added, reaching out to tweak the tip of Arthur’s nose. “Mine too. I can commute to work and back.”

“Vivi—!’ Arthur flushed darker. “That’s like like a hundred miles from here, right, Lewis?”

“A little under, but yeah.”

Vivi chuckled. “That means you better keep the van in tip-top shape for me, Artie.”

Arthur shook his head stubbornly. “You— How about just weekends, Vi? Coming out here every day won’t keep this place hidden, right?” he appealed desperately to Lewis.

Vivi planted her hand on her hips, glaring at him mulishly.

“Weekends,” Arthur bartered, “And long weekends and holidays, just not every day. Please. I don’t want you driving this when you get off from work and are tired. Plus,” he added ingeniously, “Think of the money you’d be spending in gas!”

Vivi shook her head stubbornly, but suddenly softened, rushing the last few steps between them to wrap her arms around Arthur’s waist. “Don’t care,” she added with a sniffle. “I just want us all back together again.”

Arthur flapped his bandaged wings to keep his balance, but all the fight went out of him at her mournful tone. He wrapped his arms around her in a desperate embrace. “I want that too, really. But it's for the best if you don’t waste time and gas driving all the way out here daily.”

Lewis desperately wanted to hug both of them, but his arms were full of blanket and sleeping dog. “Vi— you can get a few days off, right? Just— just stay for a little bit right now— a few days. We can figure things out from there. I—” He hesitated, glancing down at Mystery. “I think that we— we should all be together, just for a little while. Maybe it will give us all some peace of mind.”

Vivi sighed, her cheek still pillowed on Arthur’s chest. “Y-yeah. Duet owes me some time off. I’ll call in tomorrow and let them know I won’t be in for a few days... through the weekend at least.”

She reached out and caught Lewis’s sleeve, tugging him close enough to slip her arm around his waist.

Lewis leaned against her a little and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Good.”

Vivi glanced up at him. “I want to stay here. I hate going back to an empty apartment full of echoes when everything I love is out here.”

Lewis sighed. “Let’s go inside. I really need to hug you, and to do that, I need to set Mystery down.” He summoned up more of his wisp lights to illuminate the ground around them.

Sniffling a little, Vivi pulled away from Arthur. “Yeah. Let’s go inside. I need that hug, and I need some answers on what I’ve missed.” She tapped a finger to her temple. “Everything is still a litt— okay, a lot— jumbled in here.”

Lewis ducked his head, abashed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

She reached up and flicked his nose. “I know that. But you still did. And yes, I’m still angry at you for messing up my head, but I understand why you did.”

Hesitantly, like he was afraid Vivi would reject it, Arthur held out his hand. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Lewis can make something to eat and— and we can all sit down and talk.”

Vivi slipped her fingers in his without hesitation. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve missed his cooking. Or at least I think I have. I kept missing something whenever I was eating, and not knowing what.” She started into the trees toward the cabin, her sense of direction unerring. “But the talking, oh, yes. There is so much talking needing to be done.” She glanced back at Mystery. “But getting my fuzzface there to chill out is the first order of business. I’m not having him try and make you miserable, Artie.”

Arthur glanced back at Mystery too and shivered, his wings rustling. His tail lashed once before reaching out and snugging around Vivi’s waist. He flushed a little but didn’t try to pull it away. “I’d like it if he didn’t try to kill me again. I— I can live with him not trusting me. I don’t always trust me.”

“Shoosh your facehole on that.” Vivi scowled. “I trust you. Whatever that thing did to you, you fought it back, and won.” Her free hand came up to brush against his cheek. “If Mystery could see what I see right now, he’d know he was wrong.”

Arthur sighed, leaning his head into her palm. “I hope you’re right...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “On all counts.”

Vivi tweaked his nose. “I said shoosh on that. Don't you doubt me.”

Arthur lapsed into silence, but his hand remained in Vivi’s and his tail curled around her as he carefully led the way back to the cabin.

Lewis desperately wanted to get there so he could set Mystery down and sweep them both up in a healing hug. They all needed to be reassured of each other. Speaking of healing... Lewis eyed the tattered gauze on Arthur’s shoulder and wings. It was more than a little worse for the wear, and he could see dark spots where more of the blisters had broken open.

“When we get back, I need to change your bandages,” Lewis said quietly. “It looks like some of the blisters broke.”

Arthur glanced back with a wry smile. “Feels like it too. I don’t know what that was, but it hurt.”

Lewis, having overheard the conversation with Mystery, kept his mouth shut on just what it was. He knew better than anyone about Arthur’s insecurities about the demon and how much of it remained.

Vivi said nothing, either, though her lips had pressed briefly into a thin line. She wasn’t going to say anything about what Mystery had thrown either. She wiped the expression away when Arthur glanced her way. “I can get more bandages from the van if you need them,” she said only.

Lewis allowed himself a chuckle. “I got it covered.”

“Big guy...” Arthur turned back to him, eyes wide and worried. “Are you sure— after all that, I mean?”

Lewis nodded, his smile widening a little. “I’m fine. I feel... better. Mystery’s freak-out did me that one favor, I guess.”

“You’re sure?”

“Promise.”

Arthur sighed, but nodded. Just then he came upon the ring of mushrooms, pausing to glance at Vivi. “Um...”

Vivi stopped beside him and sketched a quick curtsy, hampered only slightly by her hand in Arthur’s and his tail around her waist. “For the welcome and safe passage, our thanks.”

A brief gust of wind rattled the leaves around them and she smiled before stepping carefully over the line of white-spotted mushrooms. Arthur followed.

Lewis was the one to hesitate this time. He stopped just outside the line, looking worriedly at the bundle in his arms. Maybe his faith wasn’t as sure as Vivi’s seemed to be, but things around here had happened that there was no logical explanation for, and he thought it best to be on the safe side.

“Um, Arthur, can you go get some of the bread I baked this morning, and some of the cheese? Along with the usual milk and honey?” He glanced down at the ring with a significantly raised eyebrow.

Arthur nodded. “Um, Vi, just give me a sec, okay?”

Vivi did not let go of his hand. “I’ll help you.”

Lewis waited outside the ring, his mind on Mystery’s breaking of the peace and comfort that this place had exuded since he had found it after their escape from the cave. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We’ll make him understand.”

Arthur and Vivi came out with their hands full. Vivi had the bread and some of the cookies he’d made last night, as well as the glass bowl he usually put the milk in. Arthur had the cheese and the saucer for the honey as well as the jar of honey. He also had some butter and a small glass full of something that sparkled red in Lewis’s wisp lights.

Vivi helped Arthur set up the offerings on a tree stump. Lewis waited until they had stepped away before ducking his own head and stepping over the line of mushrooms. He glanced down at the glass and raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “My cooking wine?”

Arthur had that muddy color on his cheeks that meant he was blushing again. “Vivi suggested it. Said it was a good way to gain favor. The cookies were her idea too.”

“Vivi does her research,” Vivi chirped, putting her hand on Lewis’s arm. “Baked goods and wine are considered proper offerings. Later we should get some proper wine, though, not cooking wine.”

Lewis just nodded, accepting her knowledge, and let Arthur hold open the door for him. He carefully deposited Mystery on the couch, before nodding to the kitchen door. “C’mon. I want to rebandage those before anything else.”

Arthur nodded. The next sound out of his mouth was an ‘eep’ of surprise when Lewis swept both him and Vivi into the hug he’d been longing to give them. Vivi melted into the hug, tucking one arm around Lewis’s waist and the other around Arthur’s. Arthur stiffened for barely a second before pressing tightly to Lewis and leaning his head into Vivi’s shoulder.

Lewis squeezed them as tightly as he dared, relishing in the feel of them in his arms, the sense of them comforting and warming something deep inside. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Vivi’s head and a second one on Arthur’s temple. He wanted nothing so much as to keep holding them forever, but the soft rustle of one of Arthur’s tattered bandages coming loose brought him back to the moment at hand.

Sighing, he released his hold and waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Bandages first, then food, and then—” he glanced back at the couch. “We’ll talk about what we’re going to do to keep Mystery from trying something stupid again.”

Heaving a tired sigh, Vivi looked back at Mystery. “I know his head is just as messed up as... well, all of ours, but right now I just want to swat him with a newspaper like he he’s a naughty puppy.”

Arthur managed a weak chuckle, picking at the bandages on his shoulder with the tips of his claws. “If that would work, Vivi, I’d be all for it.”

Lewis snorted, pointing Arthur at one of the backless stools at the kitchen island. “I’d suggest a squirt bottle, but filled with that perfume from your grandmother that always makes him have a sneezing fit.”

Arthur’s chuckle was a little more real this time as he seated himself on the stool, adjusting his tail and lowering his wings a little so Lewis could more easily bandage them again. “Only in his little form, though. He might sneeze fire in the bigger one.”

“Good point,” Vivi chuckled. “Maybe the newspaper then and the squirt bottle otherwise.”

Lewis plucked Arthur’s fingers away from his shoulder and began to unwrap the dirty bandages, revealing the weeping blisters and damaged skin. Arthur bit down on his bottom lip and let out only the tiniest of whimpers at the pull of the gauze.

Vivi let out a hiss of dismay and crowded close to look at the damage. “No, a wrapping paper roll. They make a loud sound that spooks him.” She winced in time with one of Arthur’s flinches. “Thought right now I’m thinking uncharitable thoughts about getting my bat.” She reached out and gently brushed her fingers along the savage older scarring on his shoulder below where the blisters were. “Was this—?”

Arthur shuddered and drew in on himself a little. “It’s from when I fell,” he whispered, his eyes darting toward the living room.

Vivi’s gaze followed his and her lips set into a hard, thin line, a dangerous look in her blue eyes. “Did he—?”

Swallowing, Arthur dragged his eyes back to hers. “I don’t remember much, just flashes of Mystery’s big form and teeth and pain and then— then I was falling. The rest—”

Lewis made a shushing noise, smoothing antibiotic cream on with a soft touch. “Don’t. It’s long over. You don’t need to try and remember everything that happened.” Frankly, Lewis would rather not have his own memories of the aftermath of the fall. Even though the rage and mental pain he’d felt then had burned away in the purifying fire, the helplessness remained like a yawning void in the stomach he no longer had.

“The rest—” Arthur continued with a stern look of his own. “Well, I was delirious and sick for most of it, but it was not a fun time for anyone concerned. I don’t think we want to dredge up the memories and I know for a fact you don’t want the details. Trust me.”

Lewis managed a half-hearted scowl but taped the gauze pad down and moved on to one of Arthur’s wings. There the burst blisters looked even worse with the fragile skin of the wing membranes. “I hope these don’t scar. Scar tissue will pull really badly when you spread your wings.”

“Not like I’ll be flying anyways,” Arthur peered at the wounds that he could see and made a face. “Ouch.”

Vivi leaned in. “If we treat any scar tissue with some of that medicated scar cream regularly, the scarring should be minimal and not hamper stretching your wings. I think you would look good flying though. Why not?”

“Heights.” Lewis and Arthur answered at the same time.

Arthur went on. “We both fell, Vi. Don’t ask us to do heights.”

"Also," Lewis added. "What if someone sees him, or worse, films him?"

Vivi snickered. “Tempo would have its very own cryptid. You know everyone and their brother would try to disprove the footage. And most of the ones that would believe it, would be out here in the woods at night, fair prey for anything.”

“I know this place is well hidden. You’re the only one ever to find it without a guide, but I’d still rather not risk Arthur’s safety and our sanctuary.” Lewis said as he carefully treated the broken blisters, before gently rewrapping the wing.

Vivi heaved a theatrical sigh. “Fiiiiiinnne! But how cool would it be for Tempo to have a cryptid?”

Arthur poked her gently with a claw. “Considering I’m said cryptid, not very.” His tone was sour.

Vivi turned to face Arthur and captured his face between her hands. “Hey, you know I would never, ever do something to risk you, right? I’m just joking. Besides, who wants those creeps hunting in my territory?”

Arthur sighed. “I know, Vi.”

Lewis finished his rebandaging job and moved to the sink to wash his hands. “Putting our cryptid status aside, what sounds good to eat?”

“Anything!” Vivi pumped a fist in the air.

“Anything?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oysters are not meant to be on pizza, so anything but that atrocity,” she amended. Then her eyes widened. “Oh man, you’ve been out here for months with no access to it! Do you want me to make an emergency pizza run?!”

Arthur chuckled and caught her hands. “Vi, it’s fine. Lewis makes it even better than the pizza place, anyway.”

“Oh...” She deflated. “And here I was ready to take the pizza place by storm until you got your fish booger pizza.”

“Eww.” Arthur poked her. “You’re a booger.”

Vivi dodged his poking finger and glommed onto his waist in a hug. “Snot on you!”

Arthur squirmed but relented to being hugged with a chuckle.

Lewis, meanwhile, went to the freezer and pulled out a frozen pizza he’d made and put away for later. Not Arthur’s infamous Surf’s Up but just a basic supreme. It would do for now. He turned on the oven while  unwrapping it and setting it on the baking sheet.

Vivi was suddenly at his elbow. “Ooh, did you make that or buy it? It looks yummy.” She poked at the digital numbers on the oven. “Are you hooked up to the city grid for power? Cause they might find you that way.”

Arthur joined them, “No. Lewis... well, he—”

“I create it,” Lewis finished when it seemed Arthur was stuck on what to say. “I can create things through willpower, I guess you could call it. This place...” he chewed on his lip for a moment. “It was a wreck when I found it. I needed it to be a place to rest for Arthur and I, and it was.”

“He did, but doing so much wiped him out,” Arthur cut in, laying a hand on Lewis’s arm. “When— when he has to rest, the power and the water cut out, but it’s never for long. The cabin stays the same, though.”

Lewis looked down at him, eyes wide. “They do?! Why didn’t you say anything?! ¡Dios!”

“Lewis—” Arthur started. “You have to rest. You— you said something bad happens if you get too tired.”

“Translation: ‘You need rest too, dumbass’.” Vivi put in, miming a punch at Arthur’s shoulder. “Just spit it out, Artie.”

Lewis snorted and slid the pizza in the oven. “I’ll rest when I need to and not before.”

“You are not turning into another Arthur on me, ghost-boy.” Vivi poked a finger hard at Lewis's chest. “I cannot cope with two people who think there is some sort of substitute for actual sleep.”

A muffled sound from the living room caught all of their attention. Arthur stiffened, his wings mantling involuntarily and every hair on his tail standing on end. His pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Lewis moved between him and the living room.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Vivi held up a hand. “None of that now. I am not having another impromptu roadtrip in the middle of the night because no one can keep their head. Lewis, if you can keep your cool, you can come with me to talk to more-floof-than-brains. So no more explodey fireballs, clear? Artie, you stay put and watch the pizza, please.”

Startled out of his visceral fear, Arthur lowered his wings and fixed her with a glare. It was half-hearted at best, but miles better than the wild-eyed panic. “I’m only not arguing because I know why you said that.”

Huffing her bangs out of her eyes, Vivi reached out and ruffled his hair. “Because I care, dummy. Just stay put until we can get Mystery to listen.”

Arthur batted her fingers away with a huff of his own, but nodded. “Just— just get him calmed down.”

Vivi clinked a fingernail against the amulet Arthur still wore. “He can’t hurt you. Remember that.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “But he hurt himself because he’s not thinking clearly. Don’t let him do it again.”

“I won’t.”

Lewis followed Vivi’s determined stride into the living room, where Mystery was stirring, one hind leg kicking puppy-like at the blanket wrapped around him. His eyes were still closed and he let out a soft whine when he could not kick free of the blanket.

“Up and attem, ‘Stree.” Vivi flopped down on the chair opposite the sofa.

Lewis stood behind her chair. Like this, Mystery looked harmless, but he wasn’t making that mistake again.

Mystery lifted his head. One of the lenses of his glasses had cracked in the struggle and it was the first thing he focused on when he opened his eyes. Then his gaze slid up to Vivi, and then further up to Lewis. His eyes widened, and the muscles in his shoulders bunched.

“None of that now.” Vivi’s tone was sharp as glass. “Or I will whap you with a newspaper like the overgrown puppy you are.”

Mystery’s ears lowered, canting backwards. “You don’t have a newspaper.”

Lewis manifested a rolled-up newspaper and passed it down to Vivi. “Try again.”

VIvi glanced down at the paper. “Nice party trick.” She brandished it in the direction of Mystery’s nose. “You settle your fudge bunny muffins down, or I will hit you with this.”

A low rumble started in Mystery’s throat. “Vivi...”

“Don’t you ‘Vivi’ me, boyo.” Her teeth were bared in a feral grin. “The time is for me to talk and you to listen or Mr. Newspaper gets his say.”

“Mature, Vivi.” Mystery glared. “You—”

The newspaper was raised threateningly. “I said not-Mystery-talky-time. This is Vivi-talky time, and Mystery-shut-up-and-listen time.” She leaned back in her seat. “Point the first: if you attack Arthur again, I reserve the right to have him,” she cocked a thumb over her shoulder at Lewis. “Flambé your fuzzy ass. This is non-negotiable.”

Lewis gave Mystery his most threatening glower.

Mystery’s shoulders hunched up around his flattened ears and there was a growl underscoring his every breath.

“‘Stree!”

Mystery flinched from the sharp bite of Vivi’s anger.

Heaving a sigh, Vivi leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and hold Mystery’s attention. “Listen to me, Mystery,” she pled. “You're not thinking straight. None of us have been— because none of us got out of that cave entirely undamaged—”

“Vivi—”

“Still talking.” But she didn't raise the newspaper again. “And you should be listening— ah-ahh, that means really listening!” She cut him off when he opened his mouth. “Think about it. You think Arthur is the monster of the cave. And yet you stole the anchor of the creature that could have protected me... weakening him, and running off. Leaving me in the same room as the demon you were so intent on protecting me from. If he were really the demon, I'd be dead now, not threatening you with a newspaper like a puppy that piddled on my shoes.”

Mystery's ears came up all at once and he looked aghast. “I—”

“Are just now realizing what a mistake that would have been— if Arthur were in fact the demon you've been so intent on naming him.” Vivi continued with remorseless honesty. “Look at me, Mystery! Even without all my memories, do you think anything posing as someone I know as well as Arthur could have fooled me enough— to the point where I would have risked using your own hoshi no tama against you?”

A whine building in his throat, Mystery leapt off the couch.

Lewis tensed, but Mystery, belly against the floor, inched over to Vivi. Tentatively, whining softly the entire time, he put his chin up on her knee.

All the breath escaped Vivi in an enormous sigh. “Silly,” she chided, her voice soft. She rested her free hand on the top of his head. She set the newspaper down and gently removed his cracked glasses. “Couldn't even see the truth before these got broken. Maybe you need a new prescription?”

Whimpering, Mystery clambered gracelessly into her lap, butting his head up under her chin.

Cradling him close, Vivi sighed again. “Shh.” She held him close for a few moments, carding her fingers through his fur.

Mystery remained that way for several minutes, cuddled quietly in Vivi's arms.

“Can you trust me to know that, in spite of what he looks like, that is Arthur?” Vivi tilted Mystery's head up to look at her.

“I— I can believe you believe that is Arthur, but, Vivi— holy water would have done Arthur no harm. It's all in the belief. Like a vampire and holy symbols. They only have power if the holder believes they do.” Mystery shook his head. “If—”

“You believed he was a demon,” Lewis cut in, voice hard. “There was the belief.”

“It doesn't work that way!” Mystery retorted, glaring over Vivi's shoulder at Lewis. “Yes, I believed, but that would have had no effect—”

“Unless Arthur believes it too,” Vivi interrupted, eyes wide with sudden understanding. She looked up at Lewis.

He bit back a curse. “He— he fought against the demon, e-even when he was dying. He fell too, Vi, and his injuries were— were as mortal as mine. But that thing in him wouldn't just let him die. It tried to take him over. I—” Lewis shuddered. “I heard it just once. But Arthur fought it, fought so hard. He won, but he said, even though he couldn't hear its voice, the rage, he could still feel that.”

“He has doubts about his own humanity,” Vivi chewed on her lower lip. After a moment her expression firmed. “That just proves that it really is him. The demon wouldn't have those doubts.”

“I can't trust that, Vivi. I have to protect you.” Mystery whined again, obviously torn. “I want to believe that it really is Arthur, but every instinct in me screams that it is not.”

“And every instinct I have and every single thing I know about Arthur tells me it is.” Vivi fixed him with a look that invited no argument. “And until he does something that proves me wrong, you are going to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Mystery chewed the thought over like a bone he could not be sure he liked the taste of. “I will give him that, for you, but you cannot make me trust him, Vivi.”

“That means no scaring him either,” Lewis growled. “He's scared to death of your other form.”

Mystery grumbled. “I will try not to intentionally scare him.”

Vivi wasn't buying it. “No intentionally accidental scares either, bub. Or I will make you regret it.”

The timer dinged in the kitchen. “Um, pizza is done,” Arthur called. “You guys ready to eat?”

“Yes, we are.” Vivi glanced down at Mystery. “Behave,” she warned.

She and Lewis led the way into the kitchen. The pizza pan was on the counter, sending up an enticing scent, and Arthur was huddled on one of the stools, feet drawn up and bristled tail switching nervously as he watched Mystery trot in behind them.

“Artie,” Vivi murmured, stepping close enough to smooth a hand down his arm and take his hand.

His relaxation was minimal but it showed in a tiny sigh and his fingers twining in hers.

Lewis cut the pizza and served out slices while Vivi leaned contentedly against Arthur. Mystery watched from the floor, eyes wary.

It wasn't perfect, or what it had been before, but Lewis would take it. For now, it was enough that they were together again. Fractured but whole

“I hope you two are ready for questions, because I have all of them!” Vivi chirped, startling a nervous laugh out of Arthur. “And being that I'm calling in this weekend, you are at my mercy until they are answered. Every single one of them.”

“There is no escape from the questions, even in death,” Lewis intoned solemnly, a hand across his forehead like a fainting starlet.

The laughter was from all of them and it was faltering, but real. It gave him hope. Hope that someday everything would be all right again.

[noahsfreckles]

The Housekeeper (12)

I decide on a little black dress with crochet sleeves and back cut into a v shape and some black heels. I wear my hair down.

I grab my bag that has extra clothes (aka Noah's clean shirt and some booty shorts, Noah's slides, my bright red bikini and some clothes to change into tomorrow) and my mini black purse with my phone and matte lip stick. I head downstairs to the living room to find Britt alone.

"Where's Justin?" I ask.

"He went home for a little bit, he should be back around nine."

"Oh okay. So thoughts?" I do a little spin in the dress.

"Sexy, Noah won't know what to do when he sees you."

"Thanks." I sit down on the couch next to her.

"What's in the bag?"

"Just clothes."

"Nothing else?"

"Like what?"

"Protection."

"Britt!"

"What you gotta be prepared too girl, don't rely on the man to have some."

"Britt, we um," I look away from her.

"What?"

"We haven't even kissed yet."

"What?! How is that possible?"

"I've kissed his cheek three times. That's as far as we've gone."

"I'm shocked."

"Why?" I look at her curiously.

"One; he's Noah Centineo. Two; You're Tree. Three; you've spent two nights with him alone."

"Yeah and?"

"Have you not wanted to?"

"Of course I have but I don't know I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" She asks.

"Of kissing him and getting completely attached, for him to leave in three weeks and forget about me."

"He could never forget about you, Tree. He likes you too much to just leave and forget about you."

"He's still going to leave me in three weeks." I look at her and pout.

"There's always long distance and you can always visit each other."

"I'm just scared of getting my heart broken the most."

"If he breaks your heart I'll break him," she says and side hugs me. "No one breaks my bestie's heart and gets away with it."

"Thanks," I say and hug her back.

We pull apart and I look at her. "I think tonight I might kiss him and maybe a little more."

"Oh naughty."

I laugh. "Nothing like that though, I kinda want that to be special if it ever happens."

"Oh it will happened."

"No meddling."

"No meddling, I promise, Tree," she says and smiles.

There's a sudden knock on the door making us both jump. I look at the door then at her. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be, it's just Noah Centineo," she teases.

I get up off the couch and go open the door. I open it to find Noah in a black t shirt with a black jacket over it, black jeans and black dress shoes.

"Hi," he simply says and smiles.

"Hi." I say and he looks my up and down.

"You look beautiful."

"Thanks, you look handsome."

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah lemme just grab my stuff. You can come in, Britt's in the living room."

He walks in the apartment and closes the door behind himself. I walk over to the couch and he follows behind me as I grab my stuff.

"Hey Britt."

"Hi Noah."

"Ready." I say and walk over to Noah. "Bye Britt."

"Be safe," she says and smiles at me.

Noah moves to open the door and we walk out to his Tesla. He opens the door for me and shuts it once I'm inside. He goes over to his side and gets in. He starts the car and pulls out of the complex.

He turns on the radio on low and I start laughing.

"What?"

"When are you not listening to this album?"

"Cosmic is a quality album and to be honest it reminds me of you."

"Aww," I say and blush a little. "So where are we headed?"

"Just a little local place you probably know, Arty's."

"Oh um I'm actually allergic to pasta."

Noah pulls up to a stop sign and looks at me, "for real?"

"Yeah sorry."

"Fuck. Um is there somewhere else you wanna go?"

"Noah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm joking, I love Arty's actually."

"What?"

I start giggling.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, Tree."

"Sorry," I say through my giggles.

"You'll pay for that later, missy."

Oh.

"I'm sorry, it was too funny."

"I'll remember that," he says as he starts driving again.

We arrive at Arty's ten minutes later. He turns off the car and gets out. He walks over to my side of the car and opens the door for me, he holds out his hand and helps me up.

He links our fingers together as we start walking towards the door. He opens the door for me and we walk in.

"Hi welcome to Arty's. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes we do, it's under Centineo."

The hostess looks down at her paper and nods. "A booth for two." She waves a waiter over. "Please sit them in booth thirteen." The waiter nods and we follow him to our booth.

"Here's your menus, did you know what you wanted to drink?"

"A white wine please," Noah says.

I open my menu and start looking, like I've never been here before when I've been here so many times in the past.

"Is that okay? The wine?" Noah asks as the waiter walks away.

"Yeah, it's perfectly fine."

Noah opens the menu and starts looking it over, "so what's good here?"

"Everything to be honest."

"Do you know what you're getting?"

"The chicken Alfredo, like always."

"I'm leaning towards the chicken parmigiana."

"That's really good. It's my second favorite thing here."

"What's your first?"

I look at him and smile, "you."

He blushes a little, "really?"

"No, it's really the breadsticks."

He gasps and holds his chest, "I am offended."

I giggle a little, "You're the third actually?

"So I'm beat by some breadsticks and some chicken parmigiana? I see how it is Teresa."

I gasp and hold my chest, "rude."

The waiter comes up just as Noah's about to respond. "What can I get you guys?" We tell him our order and he walks away.

"What were you going to say?"

"Just that I'll remember that later."

"Oh okay."

We sit in silence for a minute until Noah slides his hand on top of mine on my thigh and scoots a little closer to me, "you look amazing tonight."

"Thanks," I say and blush a little.

"How often do you come here?"

"I came here a lot with my ex but I haven't been in about a year."

"Oh, can I ask why you broke up?"

"Yeah we just grew apart, no drama. We both got busy with work and school for him and we decided to just break up instead of dragging the relationship on. I still see him every now and then, no drama here."

"That's good."

"What happened with your last relationship?"

"We were both actors and she got this role where she would be in Australia for six month and we tried to make it work for the first month but the time difference got to us, I would be sleeping when she's up and she would be sleeping when I would be. So we both decided to break up. No drama here either unlike the one before that."

"What happened there?"

"I was away for a role in Toronto and she thought hooking up with one of my best friend's friends was okay. She said I cheated on her when I was in Toronto and I would never call her I would always be out cheating on her and hanging out with my friends from the movie when I would call her and text her all the time, but when she couldn't get ahold of me she said I was cheating when I was filming. My family didn't like her anyways, specially my sister, Tay."

"Did they know each other?"

"Tay, was a couple grades ahead of her and she caught her making out with Tay's best friend's boyfriend. More drama. Tay told me not to date her but I didn't listen."

"I haven't had any drama filled relationships probably cause I don't date that many people. I've only had two boyfriends, well that I truly count, they both lasted a year each."

"Only two? Wow."

The waiter comes over bringing the wine and our food. Once he leaves I ask what he means by 'wow.'

"I just figured you would have more than two, I mean look at you."

"Well you've seen what comes to Marko's so I'm not finding anyone there for sure. Well there was one guy that I wouldn't mind being in a relationship until he left me to get a drink when I was helping my friend," I look at Noah and bite on my breadstick.

"Whoa whoa whoa, I came back and looked for you."

"Who said I was talking about you, Mr. Centineo?"

"You?"

I laugh. "Though he does get quiet a few extra credit points for being my knight in shining armor, so I guess he's relationship material."

He smiles at me and squeezes my hand and I smile at him.

We start eating our dinner and talk here and there.

"Did you wanna try some of my chicken parmigiana since it your favorite thing here?"

"Second favorite," I joke.

"Second favorite thing," he says and rolls his eyes.

"Sure."

Noah cuts a piece for me and holds the fork up to my lips and I take the fork in my mouth, moaning softly around it. He pulls the fork out and looks at me.

"So delicious," I say after I'm done chewing. "Wanna try some of mine?"

"Sure."

I get some pasta and chicken on my fork and hold it up to his lips, he opens them and I slide the fork in. He closes his lips around the fork and moans softly. I slide the fork out and he starts chewing.

"I can see why you always get that. Delicious."

"I'm ready whenever you are, Noah."

He nods and takes another bite of food. "Ready."

He scoots out of the booth and gets out of the booth. I scoot over and he holds his hand out for me and take it, standing up. He links our fingers and we walk out of the building.

He unlocks the car, opens the door, and I get in and he shuts the door. He goes over to his side and gets in, we buckle up and he backs up, and heads to the street.

"Are we going anywhere else?" I ask.

"Um I kinda have to go to Walgreen's for something, is that okay?"

"Yeah, am I allowed to come in?"

"Yeah, I don't care."

He drives the Walgreen's down the street from the hotel. He parks near the doors and we get out, going inside. Noah goes one way and I go the other.

I go over to the fridge section and grab a orange soda and go to look for some candy. I find the candy section and grab a bag of Reese's. I decide to go find Noah.

I start walking down the middle of the store and looking down both aisle of the store at the same time. I check almost every aisle and finally find him by the chapsticks.

"You had to come here to buy chapstick?"

He looks up at me and smiles, "Gotta protect my lips."

"You're a dork, you know that?"

"Yup. And what do you have?"

I hold the orange soda and Reese's bag for him to see and he laughs.

"Typical."

"Yup. Now what flavor did you get?"

"Strawberry."

"I like strawberries."

"I'm glad. Ready to go?"

"Yup."

We head to the front of the store and Noah lets me go first, I purchase my stuff and wait for him.

He places the chapstick on the counter and looks at me, "Will you go grab me a Fuji water, I don't care what size."

"Yeah." I walk towards the fridge section and grab him one and walk back.

"Here ya go."

"Thanks."

I go back to where I was standing and he finishes, he walks over to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. We walk out to the car and get in, heading to the hotel.

A/N I suck at updating now. If anyone has a tumblr, my url is noahcentinahoe.tumblr.com (I only post Noah) and if anyone has an insta mine is noahsfreckles (only posts Noah again) feel free to follow me or whatever. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

[usuknetwork]

USUK Christmas Countdown 2017: December 15 #1

Title: Just a Dash of Magic Day 3: Magic Summary: Arthur would rather mope during Christmas, but Alfred has other plans. Rating: T Warning: Minimal cussing, offscreen minor character death   

(Written by: @soda-rebel and Art by: @jellyfist) 

There’s always a sort of mysterious feeling that settles with the snow. Not in the sense of chills that tingle deep in the bones, no. It’s more how the familiar somehow becomes unfamiliar, how memory-laden paths can easily lose their softness to overwhelming white. On such cold-caked paths of newness, there something stirs. It’s something ethereal, something otherworldly, something...magical. But in due time.

Of course, Arthur had always found snow to be something of a hindrance. Snow. Ice. Heck, even just the beginning of fall was tedious. The herbs he had easily stocked during the spring were always, always, killed by frost. No, there was nothing Arthur liked about the winter. Unfortunately, his cottage had been built from the draftiest parts of a hollowed oak tree. He didn’t like how the frigid fingers of cold would creep under the heavy door of his home. He didn’t like the silence that came with the receded animals; only death should ever be this quiet. He didn’t like that his...lover, would try to change his negative predisposition on the matter. Though it wasn’t the first (and definitely wouldn’t be the last) time Alfred F. Jones tried to ‘domesticize’ him. At least that’s what Arthur liked to call it. Though he supposed Alfred just couldn’t help it. There was a certain wildness to Arthur, a foreignness that intrigued almost as much as it frightened. But it wasn’t the wildness most were familiar with. It wasn’t like a hawk, with its terror dipped talons and see-all gaze. It wasn’t like a horse, with equally endless spirit and fury. What lay in Arthur was an eye grabbing newness. Newness that could break and burn and beat. Of course that made it all the more valuable to have. Time and time again, Alfred would come to him asking for more wildness and more danger. He’d ask Arthur to come with him, saying that Arthur could belong. While his love certainly did belong among the humans, Arthur was what many would call an abomination. In less extreme terms, he had always been an outcast. Maybe even a hermit. Besides, there was nothing he could do to hide what stirred beneath his surface, and he felt no need to change a past that he cared little about.

Ever since his birth, the villagers knew something was off. Little Arthur Kirkland, with eyes green like a snake, but sharp like a raven. Little Arthur Kirkland, face rounded like a doll’s, but skin pallid like a corpse. Little Arthur Kirkland, with the body of a human, but the blood of a witch. Of course, precautious people have a certain knack for labeling and preparing for these sort of things. Before he could even talk, the villagers had stockpiled weapons against him, a toddler no less! They told their children, their children’s children, and any town willing to listen. And then they waited for dear, sweet little Arthur to make a mistake.

Arthur, naive as he was, thought that a war was coming to his home. He knew from what he recalled of his mother-- before she was sent off to sea by the village --that there was something otherworldly about him. Luckily enough, she had left him journals and notes on how to control whatever power he had. Ignoring his father’s warnings, wanting to prove that he could be of use despite his strangeness, Arthur dabbled in spells. He liked how healing spells felt like a swim in warm honey, but hated the way the air seemed to stick to everything afterwards. Hexing was fun, but the after effect always smelled of burning skunk cabbage (a ghastly smell). White magic felt like layers of mint on his skin, an unwelcome burn. And then he tried black magic. Now that was something else. It sizzled and whispered to the stale air. Whenever Arthur called, it would leap from him like a stallion, tearing into the skin of silence, making it bleed the aura and power magic usually held. Power, power, power.

Of course, there were days when black magic would turn on him like the wild beast it was. Sometimes Arthur’s fingers would burn from taming it. He could even remember when his little pink nail-beds darkened from soot and magical essence. At one point, Arthur strained himself so much that his veins were blackened from yanking out the magic time and time again. But he liked it. So he never stopped.

It was foolish of him to think they’d understand his intentions. Arthur had only wanted to show that he could defend the village now, that they never needed to fear anything ever again. All it took was a small explosion of dark flames from his magic to alarm the humans. And that was how he discovered it was never a forest they were preparing to fight. It had always been him. When those he had thought were friends, family almost, surrounded him with pitchforks and fire, Arthur panicked and whispered for the only thing he could trust. He would soon regret not thinking of a precise spell that day; all Arthur had wanted at the time was to fly far away. The magic answered and whisked him away in a flurry of feathers to the empty center of a forest.

Arthur remembered how cold it had been there in the morning snow. He remembered how he sat there for hours, unable to believe what had happened. He remembered how he couldn’t stop shaking in his thin nightshirt (he hadn’t had the time to change). It was not until Arthur glanced at some ice that he noticed something different about himself. Multiple wheat-colored feathers were firmly imbedded into his neck, contrasting the rapidly darkening soft blue of his frostbitten skin. Arthur stilled when he didn’t find any wings attached to his back, but only a little. He tried for hours to rip them out: the frill around his neck, the few feathers around the back of his head, and the small feathers that clung to his shoulders. But when one was gone another just took its place. He felt so helpless, so alone. When Arthur calmed down enough after his panic, he cried, knowing the truth about his mother’s ‘holiday’ to the sea and knowing what would happen to his father. He never cried again.

What had he been thinking about before his nostalgia trip? Yes, yes the snow. The snow was cruel. Arthur hated the snow. Half his clothes were light shirts and the rest were cloaks! Not to mention his hands. Cold weather always made his hands act up. They were tender from years of abuse from his magic, but at least it was manageable in spring. He actually needed gloves in winter. Gloves! The disgrace! That reminded him, he should put on gloves.

Arthur scolded himself out loud for a few minutes on how he wasted so much time on useless memories. He pushed himself out of his bed--though it was more a nest of quilts on a hammock-- to the cold wood floor. Pausing first to fluff the spot where feathers and hair melted together, he set off to look for gloves to stop the aching in his fingers. He checked by the round window, the only window, swearing that he had set it there before. It wasn’t there.

Maybe by the? No. If only his cottage wasn’t so cluttered. It was small, having only a cooking/brewing area, a table to eat at, and a bed that was somewhat tucked into the wall, but he had so much stuff! There were the hanging and hidden jars holding his wilting herbs; Arthur always tripped over those. Miscellaneous pots and cauldrons filled the dining area, a few upturned ones even served as his stools. The kitchen? To put it lightly, it still needed some love after his botched attempt at cooking with magic. But most of all, sparkly, dangly, glittering knick knacks were strewn everywhere. Some hung from the ceiling because they caught the sun just right and worked as a natural morning alarm. A few seemingly endless bracelets tumbled from the small table (with the cauldron chairs) onto the floor. Arthur just honestly liked shiny things, developing a bad habit of finding and pocketing them. He never wore any of it really, he just liked how they looked. Perhaps that too was from the spell. Speaking of pretty things…

“Alfred, I’m not ready to head out yet,” Arthur called. Not that Alfred would wait outside anyway. He bustled inside, stomping off the white from his shoes and leaving them with his heavy winter coat by the door. Then he bolted to the kitchen.

“Artie it’s so cold! Did you go out yet? No, wait, don’t do that. It’s really really cold,” Alfred stammered as he practically collapsed by the fire-lit stove, thankful for its warmth.

Arthur smiled at the exaggerated antics. Feigning a hurt voice he said, “How rude, I haven’t seen you in weeks love, and the first thing you embrace is my stove.” Silence. Draping an arm across his eyes, Arthur moaned, “What a life, for my first and only lover to choose kitchenware over me! What a cruel fate! Woe is me! The end is neigh!” He would have continued if Alfred hadn’t run over to press half frozen kisses onto his face.

“You know” --kiss-- “I love” --kiss-- “you” --kiss-- “but” --kiss, kiss-- “I’m freezing!” Arthur indulged him, pretending to still be deeply wounded by his preference of cast iron as opposed to warm flesh. He wasn’t able to enjoy the moment for long. As quickly as he ran over, Alfred skittered back to, and almost fell face first on top of, the radiating stove. Apparently hints were lost on the clueless. Arthur sighed, already feeling the kisses evaporate from his skin. He made a show of walking and diving under the covers of his bed, feeling his feathers puff up from irritation. Under the blankets, a cold sensation startled him, making the feathers near his neck ruffle excitedly. Arthur was more than disappointed to find the cause to be his missing gloves and not an oven-detached Alfred. Honestly, fuck the snow.

Alfred must have noticed his boyfriend’s pouting, eventually padding over to and snuggling with Arthur in the hammock. Starved for attention, Arthur melted into the embrace, happy for the added heat. Alfred pressed his face into some of Arthur’s soft shoulder fluff and inhaled deeply. It smelled of pine, cinnamon, and a dash of magic. Alfred buried his face deeper until he almost sneezed. Luckily he’d been through enough snuggle sessions to know when to stop. To Arthur’s embarrassment, the feathers that coated his neck puffed up in response. He forced them to lay flat, pushing them down with his hand, but after a few seconds of Alfred’s nuzzling, they just flew back up. Arthur sighed and let the troublesome feathers be.

For a while the only sound was the soft crinkling of burning wood from the stove and twinkling from a few disturbed trinkets. Arthur had to admit, he enjoyed moments like this. Him and Alfred just sitting together, pretending like a world didn’t exist outside their arms. Well, not a world Arthur wanted to take part in anyway. Sadly it didn’t last. Alfred was starting to get fidgety. He would be playing with the blankets for one moment then switch to gently petting Arthur’s feathers the next.   

“Alfred,” Arthur began, “You seem anxious. Is there something you wanted to do?” Alfred practically glowed with excitement.

“Actually, yeah Art. I was wondering if you, ya know, wanted to do anything festive? Maybe build a snowman or somethin’?”

“You mean you want to go outside?” Arthur asked. He stared at Alfred, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Alfred faltered under Arthur’s stare. “Uh yeah…” he mumbled.

“I thought you said it was too cold.”

An urgency seemed to spark from Alfred. “But who doesn’t go outside when it’s Christmas! I know you don’t really celebrate it, but you’ve been cooped”--Arthur’s feathers ruffled irritably-- “er, holed up in here like all forever! Don’t you wanna go outside a little?”

Arthur huffed. “No, no I would rather not.” Crossing his arms, Arthur hoped he made it clear that he wouldn’t be moving an inch for the rest of the evening. In his pouting fit, Arthur felt a lack of warmth, a lack of Alfred. From of the corner of his eye he could see just how dejected Alfred looked. His lip was even quivering the way children did when they were upset. Arthur was a sucker for those. Alfred did walk all the way there just to see him. “Fine,” Arthur relented, the guilt getting to him. “But only one snowman.”

Alfred immediately beamed at him and scrambled to get out of bed, almost throwing them both to the floor. He apologised with a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek and rushed to throw on his coat and boots. Arthur opted for a green cloak that had been laying in a pile on the floor. He really needed to tidy up.

“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough in that Artie?” Alfred asked, worried that his boyfriend would turn into an icicle.

Arthur looked down at his clothes: the usual thin shirt, loose pants, plain boots, and the cloak he picked out. “Besides my gloves,” --he paused to grab them from the blankets-- “I think I’ll be just fine Alfred.”

Alfred shrugged. “If you say so.”

Arthur hesitated for a moment when it came time to nudge open the door. He was about to be assaulted by icy winds he had avoided so well. He heard Alfred ask a question, probably about his choice in clothing, and assured him he was fine. Slowly, slow enough for the hinges to squeal, Arthur let in the cold. He could feel as warmth drained from his skin and fell under the floorboards. His feathers pressed down and against his neck, trying to save what little warmth hadn’t dripped away. The wind felt like an icy whip that danced and lacerated anything that lived. It didn’t seem to bother Alfred though.

Alfred seemed to have bloomed at the sight of snow, the first burst of cold giving his eyes a glorious shine. As Alfred sprinted past him to a clearing a few feet away, Arthur stood and watched from the doorway. He couldn’t help but think that Alfred was made for this weather. Those blue, blue eyes were beautifully preserved slices of winter, intense like the frozen waters but as soft as freshly fallen snow. Yet they always held the warmth of a soft spring day. In a way, it was magical.    

“Artie!” Alfred hollered before flopping backwards on the snow. “Come make a snow angel with me!”

Arthur suppressed a chuckle--well, more like covered his mouth with his hand--as he watched Alfred flap his arms and legs. “You’re going to get colder like that Alfred,” he scolded, but not without a smile.

“But it’s fuuun,” Alfred laughed. “C’mon, don’t be so stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” he asked in an amused voice. Arthur’s eyes glinted with mischief. He ran out from his spot, not caring about the cold for once shouting, “I’ll show you stuffy!” With just a little bit of magic and an abrupt hand gesture, all the snow from the branches above Alfred fell on his face. The action surprised him, but the competitive glimmer on his face told Arthur he hadn’t been hurt. With a face that was flushed from cold and joy, Alfred took a scoop of snow from the ground.

“It’s on bird boy!” he shouted, hurling a snowball at Arthur. It hit him directly in the face. Alfred whooped in victory, which was short lived. All it took was a wave of Arthur’s hand for several dozen perfect snowballs to float in the air around them.  

With a slight smirk he said, “You have two options. You can either surrender or face my magic.” He let the dangling snowballs slowly inch forward. It would have been more threatening if they weren’t, well, snowballs. “What’ll it be love?” Arthur asked in a honey dappled voice. Alfred seemed to be assessing his options: get pelted or give up the snowball fight of a lifetime. Just as it looked like he was about to submit, Alfred grabbed the closest hanging snowball and threw it at Arthur. Hitting him square in the chest, it caught him off guard and gave Alfred the perfect chance to run away. “I choose freedom!” he yelled between bits of laughter. The look of astonishment on Arthur’s face was just too hilarious to not laugh at.

Arthur pursued, letting the snowballs crumble back onto the ground. His cloak created a bit of drag, but not enough to interfere. He caught up to Alfred with ease (probably because of his lighter clothing) and tackled him to the ground. Arthur laid his face on Alfred’s chest, hearing his heart flutter with each breath. “Do you surrender now?” he asked between pants. Geez, he really needed to get out more.

Alfred rolled his eyes. “You win this round Art. But you won’t be so lucky next time.”

“Oh?” he chuckled, looking up a tad from his spot on Alfred.

“I’ve been told I’m a master strategist.”

“By who, your mother?”

Alfred pouted and shoved some snow down Arthur’s shirt. Arthur made an ungodly screech and squirmed off Alfred to get the ice out.  

“Foul play!” Arthur yelled, hopping up and down from the sudden cold. He realised his mistake too late. Alfred exploded into fits of laughter, half from the sound Arthur made and half from Arthur’s wording.

“Get it? ‘Cause you have…” Alfred tried to quiet the remaining giggles. Arthur glared, almost daring him to finish the sentence. “Nevermind,” Alfred said with an annoyingly sweet grin. “Anyways, we have snowmen to build.” Gathering himself and patting off the dustings of white, Alfred starting packing snow.

“Here, let me,” Arthur offered. Before Alfred could object, an invisible force swirled the snow until two perfect snowmen stood side by side. Arthur allowed himself a small smile as he stepped back to admire his work. Alfred seemed a little upset for not taking part in creating the snowmen, but he looked more relieved to not have to deal with the tedious procedure. Making himself useful, Alfred gathered some sticks and a few stones to decorate the snowmen with. He shuffled back to Arthur to appreciate the bare snowmen while carrying a small mound of materials. Inspiration seemed to strike as Alfred quickly broke a few twigs and arranged them on a snowman’s face.

“Look Arthur! He has your eyebrows!” It did indeed, the three rows of twigs mimicking the brows on Arthur’s face.

“Very funny Alfred,” Arthur replied. He had to admit though, it was pretty ingenious. Not that he’d ever tell Alfred that.

Together they added a few more details, such as stones for eyes, mouths, and noses. When it came time to add the finishing touch, Alfred insisted that they arranged the stick arms to look like the snowmen were holding hands.

“They’d be sad!” was Alfred’s justification.

“You’re sad,” was Arthur’s retort as he helped Alfred.  

“I’m never sad when I’m around you Artie.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Let’s get back inside, the cold is making you sappier than you already are.” As Arthur turned to head back, he felt a slight tug from his cloak. Alfred was gripping one of the edges gently, his face looking urgent.

“You know I love you right?” Alfred asked. Arthur felt warmth trickling back up to his face while a few of his feathers fluffed up. He swore that no matter how many times he heard those words, they always made him feel so, so warm. Arthur felt the magic in him sizzle and spark just under the surface, reminding him what separated him from the humans. It was peculiar that Alfred never felt threatened. In fact, their entire relationship seemed to casually gloss over how Arthur was a potential danger. But no matter how many times Arthur used his magic, no matter how strange he was, Alfred only seemed to love him all the more.        

“Y-yes. Of course I know that. I love you too Alfred.”  

Hand in hand, they walked back to Arthur’s cottage to snuggle in the hammock again. As Alfred cooed over how pretty Arthur’s feathers looked against the snow and whispered to him promises of the future, he couldn’t help but like the cold for the first time in a long while. Perhaps he had found a place to belong after all.  

[darkangel0410]

Trying to motivate myself to write, so I thought I’d post some bits and pieces from some of my WIPs. Putting it under a cut so it’s not taking up a huge amount of space on anyone’s dash.

Taylor/Adam, a/b/o werewolf, mpreg warning: “You know I don’t mind you staying here while you’re looking for a place of your own,” Adam tells him two weeks later; they’re in Adam’s living room, half-heartedly watching food network while Taylor goes through the local housing listings on Adam’s laptop. Adam smells like he always does, like cedar and salt water, and it’s discerning to Taylor that it’s still as calming now as it was when he was sixteen. “But Hallsy, I’m worried about you, man, you’re knocked up and I know you’re not mated, you don’t even smell like there’s been an alpha near you in weeks and I’ve never heard of a team trading away a pregnant omega before, what the hell is going on?”

“I helped someone through their rut,” Taylor answers him, choosing his words carefully; Adam’s never been the kind of alpha to get possessive and overprotective of his omega friends and teammates, but Taylor figures better safe than sorry. “Just as friends, it wasn’t serious for either of us. And when I found out about being all,” he waves a hand around and when Adam just raises his eyebrow in confusion he clarifies, “knocked up, he didn’t think he could deal with raising a cub and he didn’t want to try.”

“Was he on the team?” Adam asks and nods when Taylor makes a face but doesn’t say anything. “Alright, so I get why you’re not mated with this guy, and I’m not judging you for anything, but is that why you’re here? Did you ask for the trade?”

It would be easy to tell Adam ‘yes’, to pretend that he’s had any control over this situation since he was sitting in that doctor’s office. But Taylor’s never been a good liar and Adam’s known him for too long to let him pretend otherwise. “I told management and my agent and then Chiarelli called me a few days later to tell me that I got traded to here.”

*

McEichel, d/s au: They roomed together at World Cup and there was once or twice, after bad games, that he kneeled for Connor -only for a little bit, and he only went all the way down once, but. It felt good, knowing that he could do something right, be what someone wanted. And Connor was -nice, he ran his fingers through Jack’s hair, told him what he did right that game, how well he was doing.

That was almost two months ago and Jack doesn’t need to kneel to know how good he is on the ice.

But he feels hollow, sometimes, his chest empty and there are times when someone asks him about Connor and his heart thumps painfully.

He has Connor’s number, he could call or text, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want Connor to think he’s clingy, needing something that wasn’t ever his anyway.

*

The Oilers have a blind auction in November, selling game worn jerseys online for charity.

Jack toys with the idea of buying Connor’s jersey -it’s pathetic, but there are times when he thinks maybe it would help him stop feeling like he lost something after the tournament.

He doesn’t do it, though; Connor wasn’t ever his, they weren’t together. Weren’t even friends, really.

So he just keeps playing, plays hockey the only way he knows how and hopes it’s enough to get rid of the empty feeling in his chest.

*

Seabs/Duncs/Bread/Arty, soulmate au: Brent’s six when he feels a sharp pain in his wrist; it makes him drop the small hockey stick he had been playing with and start crying for his mother. It only takes a few seconds for Keith to join in, scared that his big brother is upset and yelling for help.

She comes in the room in a rush, pulling up short when she sees Brent sitting on the rug and holding his left wrists and crying. “Oh, buddy, another one huh? Let me see, Brent, sweetie.”

Brent sniffs once and holds up his left wrist for her to inspect. She’s not surprised to see Артемий Сергеевич Панарин there, the skin around it looking raw and uncomfortable; Артём Алексеевич Анисимов sits below it, still dark and very much there, not faded over and thin, like it would be if his Soulmate had died. She sneaks a look at Brent’s right wrist, relieved that his first Name, Duncan Keith, is still strong and dark, too.

“Well, baby, it looks like you got another Name,” she tells him, sure to keep her voice happy and warm despite the worry she felt. “How lucky is that, huh.”

Brent sniffles a little, calming down now that the pain is fading; he looks at his left wrist and then his right one, pressing a finger to each name in turn. “How come I have three Names, Mommy? Keith only has one.”

“That’s a good question, sweetie,” she says, standing and picking Keith up when he comes closer; she rubs an affectionate hand through Brent’s hair and then urges him to his feet and starts ushering him towards the kitchen for lunch. “It’s different for everyone, baby, some people have two. Or one, like Keith. Or even none. It doesn’t mean that any one number of Names is more right than another.”

Brent nods easily, already focused on climbing into a chair so he can eat.

It’s a few years before Brent remembers that conversation and it really means anything to him.

*

Mitch/Auston, breathplay: They’re drunk the first time it happens.

Auston loses his balance and falls on top of Mitch, his forearm gets shoved into Mitch’s throat while he tries to right himself; Mitch can’t breathe all of a sudden and it makes everything seem brighter, feel more. Auston feels huge inside of him, his weight pinning Mitch to the bed; Mitch is completely surrounded by Auston and at his mercy and it’s the best thing Mitch has ever felt.

It only lasts a few seconds before Auston gets his bearings and the pressure lets up and he can breathe again.

Mitch doesn’t forget the feeling, though.

*

McEichel, shapeshifter au: “I don’t like it,” Jack admits, a growl just audible in his voice; he’s as curled as close around Connor as he can get while they’re tucked away in a corner of one of the hallways at Rexall before the game.

“Hey, babe, come on, I’m fine,” Connor assures him, squeezing the back of his neck; Jack doesn’t even bother moving his mouth away from Connor’s skin when he snorts and it makes Connor smile a little. “The doctors said it’s going to heal fine, I’ll be back before the end of the season.”

Jack finally presses a kiss to the scar on Connor’s clavicle before he shifts and buries his face against Connor’s neck with a sigh, rubbing against the skin slightly before biting gently. There’s nothing sexual about it, Connor knows, just Jack trying to ground himself after not seeing each other for months, and the injury on top of it that had knocked Jack off kilter.

“You don’t smell like me at all,” Jack complains, rubbing his cheek against Connor’s neck again before he nudges Connor’s jaw with his nose.

“I’m sure you can fix that,” Connor says, amused at his boyfriend’s grumpy words.

*

Strome Bros, shapeshifter au, sibling incest: Dylan wonders sometimes if Matt had been a shifter, too, if it would have made a difference, changed what him and Ryan were to each other. If someone else close to them had gone through the same things they did, would it have affected how they interacted?

They feel too intertwined for that, like no matter where they started at or what they were, they were always going to end up tangled together in bed, pressed as close together as they could get, their hearts beating almost completely in sync.

Dylan’s never tried to explain it to his parents and as far as he knows, Ryan hasn’t, either; he knows what they would think if they knew, what they would say. Mates isn’t something their parents can understand, even if they wanted to.

It’s easier once they get their own place to act normal around their parents, but even then it never feels right: to not touch Ryan whenever he can.

He knows it’s not the same for his parents, that they don’t always feel unsettled when the other isn’t around; that even once you get used to it, it still feels like you’ve left a huge chunk of yourself behind when you have to leave your mate.

It’s different for humans, he knows. Dylan’s never understood how they can survive like that.

[ohallthecrushes]

My sweet little sub-boy

Anon requested:  Hiya! Can u do an Arthur x Reader where reader discovers that Arthur is a total sub? And dominates him? Can you include dirty talk, teasing and light bondage? hope this is okay! *blushes*

@lunvella requested:  Can you do this imagine where (sub) Arthur And The (dom) reader are cuddling and watching the Murray Franklin show and gets intimate with each other

A/N: I have a strong feeling that Arthur is a brat sub. Totally brat. A sweet and loving kind, but still a brat. And he would sometimes disobey and misbehave for attention or just for kicks.

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

Contains: Teasing, light bondage, dirty talk, cuddles, pet names

Word count: 1,732

You kicked off your shoes as you flung yourself onto the bed, into Arthur's arms. You shifted your body to fit perfectly in the space between his arm and his chest. You rested  your hand on his lap, stroking the inside of his thigh while you tilted your head to put a quick kiss on his neck where you could reach his bare skin. He smiled at this and pulled you even closer to him, wrapping his hand around your waist. All the lights were off except for the tv screen that emitted radiant blue light, setting a perfect intimate atmosphere in the bedroom.

Murray Franklin show already had started presenting tonight's guests and you closed your eyes, pressing your ear to your lover's naked chest, listening his heart beating at ease, and inhaling his scent - the mixed of cologne you'd bought him for his birthday, with his natural scent, cigarettes, and a mint toothpaste. You let your senses be captivated by Arthur whole being and you focused on playing with his blue trousers, tapping the rhythm of That's life. You were less interested in tonight's show, especially that this was a rerun you'd already seen. But you didn't mind letting it being played as the background noise, for it was never about watching Murray, it was all about your peaceful, intimate time with the love of your life. It was quite a nice routine for both of you - getting comfortable on the bed, cuddling and laughing your arse off, though Arthur was the one who laughed more, you were just simply smiling from ear to ear listening his genuine laugh and watching his happy face. It was a precious time for both of you and Arthur always glanced at you from time to time with his eyes filled with love and appreciation.

You ran your fingers slowly up and down his leg on repeat while he slid his hand under your shirt, stroking the sensitive skin on your belly. For most of the time, it wasn't anything sexual, you were just cuddling with a little extra affection for each other, but tonight you were in the mood. Oh, you were. You slid your hand playfully a little bit farther down, before your fingers walked their way up to his knee. And back down again. You wondered how many times you'd have to do that till he started fidgeting with anticipation.

Three times and nothing.

His body tensed as always when he felt that you were up to something, but he wasn't sure how you wanted him to react so he waited for you to tell him what you wanted him to do. As a good sub as he was, he didn't want to spoil your fun. He wouldn't do anything unless you told him so.

But sometimes... yes, sometimes when you teased him, he became so impatience very soon, that he couldn't sit still and he started to shift his body towards yours, humming your name under his nose, like a cat demanding more of your attention.

However tonight Arthur decided to bit his tongue and wait for your command. Good.

- Spread your legs - you said using your seductive voice and he did, without any hesitation.

You moved your hand slowly down to his manhood and gently, almost ghostly ran your hand over his already half-hard cock.

- Mmmm, getting ready for me, good boy? Wanted to hide it from me, hm?

- Y-yes... no - he murmured as you looked up at him. He threw his head back, exposing his neck. He gave in to you the second you touched his cock, waiting for more, pleading for more. Of your touch, of your teasing, of your everything... anything that he could receive from you tonight.

Everything would be a reward to him if he tried to deserve it.

- Please, tell me what to do to earn your touch - his voice was low and a bit unsteady, his eyes glanced down at you, but not directly looking into your eyes, too ashamed he was to do that.

You smiled at him and touched his face, your thumb stroked his pinky cheek. 

- Kiss me, Arthur. Take my breath away.

He nodded and leaned forward to fulfill your wish. He tilted his head as his lips brushed yours in an innocent attempt to taste them, before he deepened the kiss into a more passionate and hungry one, pressing his body onto yours, using the second hand to caged you in his arms. His body was warm and his heartbeat increased in speed, his hand on your waist strengthened its grip moving a bit up to your breast and you knew he was asking for permission to touch them. You moaned into his mouth as he tenderly mated his tongue with yours, and you could taste his passion and love for you.

He did take your breath away with this kiss.

After a while you broke the kiss as your hand on his cheek dropped onto his chest and you pushed him down to climb on him, putting your legs on either side of his hips.

- P-please, t-touch me...

His pleading soft voice was like a music to your ears. You chuckled and lowered your hand to the waistband of his trousers, putting your fingers underneath it, and Arthur jerked his hips up to get at least some friction, but you didn't pull the trousers down, not yet. If his pleading voice was like a music, than having him on the edge of begging was like a symphony.

- You want me to stroke your cock, my clown prince? You want me to take care of that bulge in your pants?

He parted his thin lips and nodded.

- Yes, ma'am.

- Then put your hands above your head.

As he did what you'd demanded from him, again without any hesitation or questions, you put your hand under the pillow and searched for something for a while, not breaking the eye contact with him, before your fingers grabbed it by its fabric and you pulled it out for him to see. Arthur's cheeks turned more pink as he knew exactly what you were looking for and that you were going to find it for sure.

They were always there, whenever you slid your hand under his pillow or changed the sheets, they were always there.  Your black and pink thong.

Funny thing, you didn't put them there and Arthur always pretended he didn't know how they'd got there.

Finally you found a way to use his cute little lie against him.

You smirked and his eyebrows slightly raised as you wrapped your thong around his wrists and tied them up. It wasn't tied tight and Arthur could easily free his hands anytime he wanted to, but you knew he wouldn't even try to. Not without your permission.

It was the first time you'd tied him up and by the look on his face, you could see that he liked that idea very much. He was surprised at first, a little bit annoyed that he wouldn't be able to touch you, but he liked it at the final thought. Besides he loved to beg you for anything and having himself completely under your control, except for excitement, gave him also comfort and a chance to show you how much he trusted you.

You could tie him down for real, with a rope or a pair of handcuffs and you wouldn't hear a single complain from his mouth. Not the real one, anyway.

- Mmm, you look so cute right now, so helpless and confused. My sweet little sub-boy.

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his mouth before you moved your lips down his jaw and nibbled onto the skin on his neck. He moaned in response and licked his lips, his chest went up as he took a deep breath, before he spoke.

- I want to be a good boy for you, my princess. I want to give you all the pleasure and orgasms you deserve. Let me prove you that I can please you the way you like it. That I'm... Ohh - he moaned again as you lowered yourself onto the bulge in his pants and rewarded him with a few strokes. You were socking wet through your pants and he was painfully hard. The teasing time was ending now.

You quickly shifted yourself to remove your pants and shirt, aware of his eyes watching your every move, savoring your body, and sat back on him, taking his tied up hands to guide them through your breast and down to your clit. His fingers spread wide as he was trying to cup your boob and play with your nipple, clumsy as he was, unused to having his moves restricted like that. You slid his hands to your other boob and then after a while down your body to your woman parts, letting his thumb play with your clit.

- Mmmm, Artie - you moaned as you looked down at him, his name escaped your mouth more like a moan than call for him as you'd intended to, but he looked up at you anyway, ready for you to give him directions - I'm gonna leave your hands like that and you don't have my permission to stroke yourself, you have to hold yourself back for me, ok?

He bit his lower lip but nodded and you chuckled how swiftly he did that.

You let go off his hands as you moved, swayed his body up the bed and knelt on the pillow with your legs placed on either side of his head, so your wet pussy was hanging directly above his parted mouth. Your next words were kinda obvious, but you said them to him as he listened to them or at least tried to focus on your words instead of your sweet aroma filling his nose and the fact that his dessert was within his reach. He didn't wait for you to finish your next sentence, hoping you'd forgive him for that. He just couldn't help himself and he decided to misbehave a little. Actually if you could think clearly right now and give it a second thought, you'd be surprised he'd even let you finish the first one.

- I want you to eat me out. I want you to use your gifted tongue and your mouth on mmmm-, fuck.