#but I already said one could use me as her invitee so she could go to hang out with her other friends

[thesebright-lights]

I actually have so many friends at school that its crazy? For most of my life I never really had more than one or two at a time, but now I have more than I think I can even count. It’s crazy what happens when your anxiety disorder is being efficiently treated.

So why is it that I when I have more friends than ever before I can’t find a group to go to prom with. I originally had a platonic date and wasnt going to worry about it, but it turns out she doesn’t have the money for a ticket. Problem: I already bought a dress. And had it fitted. Paid too much for that bitch to not go now. I have four groups I could potentially tag along with.

One consists of people that I only hang out with when someone hosts a party or when we go to homecoming. Downside: they pre-gamed homecoming this year, which was funny but also kind of not because they spent half the time vomiting in the bathroom. So prom will probably be the same.

The second has two (possibly three) of my friends in it, but I think most of the people there have dates, and I don’t really know the rest of them outside of the three.

The third consists of a friend I hang out with often enough and a family friend that’s embarrassed to talk to me at school, and at least one girl thats friends with my sibling. She’s nice, but that might make it awkward. I think a lot of them have dates, too, but not all of them.

The fourth is the one I think I’ll end up going with, seeing as someone in that group actually invited me. It consists of a pretty good friend of mine, her partner, and some other people I probably at least kind of know. I know they’ll all be nice people- this person’s friends always are. The downside is there’s someone in that group I’ve kind of had beef with in middle school. I’ve been avoiding them because of that, but after explaining it to the friend I have in this group, I’ve started to realize how ridiculous it all is. It’s a 50/50 on whether or not their even coming- they might hate me because I’ve been avoiding them, but I guess this is as good a time as any to apologize. I guess hanging with this group is going to make me less popular with some of the more prissy people I know, but at this point I don’t think I need to worry about it anyways. I know that sounds shitty, but there was a point in time where I was just trying not to be bullied by my “friends” anymore than I already was. I’m not locked in there anymore.

Does Tumblr care about my high school drama? Probably not. Oh well. I love people. I didn’t know that until I started taking meds for my anxiety. Now I need to tell the world apparently.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Millie still didn’t know why she’d accepted the invitation to meet strangers. Perhaps it was her curiosity, perhaps it was the fact she needed something to do after everything had been quiet for too long. She knew that Elliott probably would have put it down to her own recklessness, and despite her desire to refute the unspoken point, she couldn’t quite fault the logic she was attributing to him.

Jonny, it turned out, had been no threat whatsoever. He was a police officer, apparently, and he was eager to find out who had been sending the letters, and why. Millicent had let him speak, let the silence settle between them occasionally before he dove off into the next thing he thought might help them figure out the whole point in everything that was happening. All the while, her thoughts had been spinning. It felt like one of those moments that was too good to be true. Somebody was trying to get people with nightmares in their pasts to talk it through with strangers.

But what did the invitee get out of all of this? That was the question that she kept coming back to. It wasn’t some power trip, and as far as she knew they weren’t hearing the stories that were shared. In fact, they had to know a little about them all to deem them worthy of the meetings themselves.

‘Bookshops are an awkward meeting place,’ somebody said, causing Millicent to slowly turn her attention towards the man standing a short distance away from her. If he’d hoped to startle her, he would be sorely disappointed. She’d seen him hovering near the end of the stacks of books a few minutes earlier, a  look of confusion on his face. ‘One never knows who might be listening in.’

‘Could be said for anywhere that’s out in the open,’ Millie countered easily, shifting a little so that she was facing him. The man, who she could only assume was Caldor because of his amber eyes, seemed to radiate a danger that she hadn’t gotten from Jonny. It put her on edge, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

‘Quite so, Millicent,’ he purred, taking a step closer to her. His hands hung by his sides, fingers curling and uncurling as if he wanted to reach for something that wasn’t there.

‘But, also means witnesses, Caldor,’ she reminded him simply. ‘So maybe don’t go picking a fight in a public area.’

‘Who said anything about a fight?’

‘Not one to get your own hands dirty?’

A wry smirk pulled at his lips, and finally his hands fell still. ‘As there was no welcoming committee, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that you didn’t send me the note. That you’re as clueless about the whole affair as I am.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ she said, earning a slight narrowing of his eyes. ‘If you’ve got the same letter I did, you would’ve got two. I’ve already had my first meeting.’

‘With Ella?’

‘Ella?’ asked Millie, frowning ever so slightly.

‘Ah,’ Caldor said softly, an irritatingly knowing glint behind his eyes. ‘So not exactly the same people then. Interesting.’

‘Why is that interesting?’ Millicent’s voice was little more than an irritable growl. Perhaps she should have asked Elliott to come with her, or even Jack.

‘Because it connects us with more people who might know something we don’t.’ Caldor carefully clasped his hands in front of himself. ‘Do you want to discuss this over coffee, or would you prefer to stand here not knowing who might be behind the nearest bookshelf?’ Millie’s eyes narrowed, but she stalked off towards the coffee shop at the back of the bookshop. She just hoped that she might get somewhere with Caldor, somewhere that she might be able to work on alone if she had to.

[writingsfromhome]

Endgame II

A/N: Okay, the storyline in this fic has been a lot of fun to write. And this one’s going to leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger but the final will come soon. Thanks for reading thus far 🥰

Note: Mentions of a toxic relationship

Part 1 / 2 / 3

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

“Look! Isn’t he so handsome?” Rowan asks.

It’s Saturday night and we’re holding drinks and pizza like it’s a freshman rush after-party. I didn’t realize this get-together at Jared and Dru’s was also an excuse to host tonight’s football match, but as long as socializing wasn’t at the centre of this gathering, I could handle it.

“He’s…okay.” Jared had the same brown/blonde hair as his brother but he was more angular where Dru was less so. Jared wore his hair outgrown while Dru’s evolved into a slicked-back style. “What does he do again?”

“He’s working at a nonprofit,” Rowan is basically fangirling. “Isn’t that so sweet?”

“Does he get paid?” I ask, finding it hard to imagine him at nonprofit let alone them hiring someone like him.

“I dunno,” she shrugs. “He’s pretty passionate about it.”

I realize on my way here that Rowan needed to make out with Jared in order to get over him. So it was my mission to make sure that happened tonight, of course I was relying on the fact that he was a bad kisser. Or had horrible breath. But she needed to get him out of her system, I needed my best friend to move on from this mediocre white man.

I move my gaze off of Jared and onto the wall that projects the game. It’s the final 6 minutes and everyone in the group was tense.

“So this is fun for us…” I say drily.

“Just get drunk,” a voice from beside me shoots back. “If I remember, that’s when you’re most fun.”

I crush my teeth together, Dru.

“Piss off,” I don’t even spare him a glance. Rowan glances between us like she was about to leave us alone to battle it out, but I eye her to stay.

“Always so mean to me,” he steps out in front of me so that I’m forced to look at him. He pretends to look sad before breaking into a bright grin like the psychopath he was. “The game’s pretty close hey?”

“Looks like we might actually win!” Rowan entertains his bullshite for the sake of being polite. She catches his attention.

“Rowan, nice seeing you here. How have you been?”

“I’m good!” She smiles. “Nice to see everyone again, it’s been so long.”

“I know,” he glances back to me, his eyes trailing the length of me. “Feels like Y/N avoids me, she hasn’t come to our last two reunions.”

I ignore him, staring at the game instead. This only makes him laugh.

“My brother invited you right?” He continues talking to Rowan. “Have you said hi yet? He’s buried somewhere in that pile over there.”

She was already ogling him the moment she walked in but Rowan nods, “Oh yeah, there he is!”

“Jared!” Dru shouts, his voice carrying across the whole room. Several heads turn. “Be a good host to your invitees!” He motions to Rowan who’s turning redder than a raspberry.

“Oh no,” she says faintly. “Let the game finish, we can talk later…if you want. Whatever! Just…” she trails off in embarrassment so I decide it’s time I step in.

“Dru, how about you go watch the game like you said. Don’t pretend to be a matchmaker here.” This is what I hated, he humiliated people just because he could.

“Yes mummy,” he grins before walking back to his seat. As the space he occupied empties, I see a familiar face I’m not expecting turned towards us. It’s Harry, sitting two people down from Jared, in his football jersey, here.

His expression is hard to read but my shock must be written all over my face because Rowan looks over to what I’m looking at.

“Oh wow, is that--it’s Harry! He’s looking fit huh? I haven’t seen him at one of these in a while.”

“Wh-what?” I sputter. “You know Harry?”

“Yeah?” She laughs. “You know him too you weirdo?”

“Yeah from work but-“

“Oh shite, that’s work-Harry?”

“Yes!” I glance at Harry again but he’s turned away again. “He went to school with us?”

“Y/N seriously? He was like, so tight with Dru and Jared in first and second year. They kinda drifted because he went into a different program I think but like, we saw him at parties all the time-oh! He had long hair back then, wore those ridiculous rings for a semester…you really don’t remember?”

“Oh my god no,” things suddenly start to make sense. No wonder he hated me the second he laid eyes on me at the office—he knew me in uni! And obviously I didn’t pay him any mind but he was friends with Dru, so his mind must be filled with the shite Dru spread about me. Clingy, bitchy, crazy. I blink back tears. “That’s such a small world.”

“I know! Did you know, he actually helped Jared get his job? He knew some people there since he did some design work for them for free! You know he was living in Manchester after graduation? I think but he moved back to London recently...which I guess you know because...”

I can barely listen to Rowan. I was freaking out, trying to place any memory of him in my mind but I was drawing a blank. Even in any reunions of the last three years I hadn’t noticed him.

“I’ve just got to...” I pat Rowan and walk away from the packed room.

“You alright?” she asks, grabbing my arm.

“Yeah yeah, I’ve just got to step away for a second. Use the toilet.”

She lets me go and I move down the hall to sit on the staircase with my drink.

Everything was starting to make sense with Harry. But what a complete dick for believing Dru’s words! God, this is why I couldn’t “let go” like Rowan wanted me to. Because I still ran into him every so often, everything he did, and all the shite he spread about me, made it kind of impossible to let it go. Because it still affected me now and it still coloured the way some people saw me. He fucked me up, my ability to get into another long term relationship, and apparently my relationships in the workplace now too.

I stumble up the stairs and find the toilet on the first go, gagging but nothing comes out. I drink the tap water and settle on top of the toilet seat with a wet tissue pressed to my forehead but it doesn’t work against the familiar pressure building in my chest.

I hear cheering from downstairs, the match must have ended. But the noise begins to sound like it’s coming from a tunnel. I had to get out of here, I needed fresh air, or just to be anywhere that wasn’t-

I lurch for the door handle, but it slips in my wet grasp. I try to focus on the panic, and it works momentarily as I get the door open but I face my next obstacle: the staircase. I just needed to collect myself. I turn in a circle and see another flight of stairs tucked away—they must lead to the attic. Maybe if I just sit at the bottom, hidden from view, I could catch my breath.

But the issue was I could barely get in a breath. What a total nightmare. It had been a couple years since I had a full blown anxiety attack, and of course it happens at my ex’s house with a bunch of friends I barely saw gathered downstairs.

My attention snags on my name: “yeah she might be in there, can you make sure she’s alright? I’ve just got to…”

That was Rowan. I wait for the other voice, praying it wasn’t Dru she was talking to. From my vantage point on the staircase, I see the light from the bathroom light up the opposite wall and then go out as the door closes. A few minutes go by, I feel marginally better but my breath is still only coming out in short bursts and my hands tremble. The fact that it could be Dru in the bathroom, and he could find me in this vulnerable position scares the shit out of me.

I drag myself up but I must get up too fast, forgetting I wasn’t sat on the bottom step, because I pitch forward over the step I missed.

I nearly faceplant, but two thirds of the way down strong arms catch me, a knee is inches from my face as it braces their body and mine against falling to the floor.

“Y/N,” a god-awful voice says. Of course; if it wasn’t Dru, it had to be Harry.

“I’m fine,” I breath. I try to push him away but his grip is strong and he pushes me gently back onto the step I came from.

“Hey, look at me,” Harry crouches in front of me. How humiliating, I think, for a man who already thinks I’m weak and flighty to see me like this. “Y/N, you’re okay can you focus on me?”

“I have to-“ I take a shaky breath. “I’m-I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Harry says, and when I shoot him a look he corrects himself. “You will be, but you’re not fine right now. I’m going to sit here.”

He sits on the last step below me, his hand grips my shoulder and he gently pushes me down towards my knees. Of course, I’d forgotten this in my racing thoughts. I rest my head in between my knees and he lets go as soon as I get there. I tell myself I shouldn’t give a fuck he was here, he’d made up his mind about me based on rumours anyway, so who cares if he saw me like this?

I sense him shifting to the step I’m on, our bodies are pressed against each other in the narrow space. A moment goes by, and his hand lands on my back. He rubs in a rhythmic motion that’s soothing and unsettling at the same time.

“Is this alright?” He asks. And the feel of his hand, the question in the midst of my attack must zap the synapses in my brain because suddenly I do remember Harry from uni.

I jerk my head up to face him, miscalculating how far he was. My head bashes his face and he flings backwards, a hand to his face.

“Fuuck,” he groans.

“Oh shit,” I press a hand to my chest. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry I-“ I cut off and take a deep breath, as deep as I could right now. “Is it bleeding let me see, is it-“

“I’m fine!” He waves my hand away from his face. “It’s-it’s not bleeding.” He confirms as he drags his hand off his face and inspects his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” I inspect his nose but he cups it gingerly again. “Seriously I’m-“

“It’s alright,” he says again, gentler but still pushing me away. “At least it’s not broken.”

“Shame. Might have been an improvement to your face,” I say before I can think. I slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide in apology.

For a moment, I think he’s going to swear at me and walk away. But it passes, instead he chuckles. A laugh. “So you’re just trying to shape my face into what you’d like it to look?”

That makes me laugh, I bring a fist down on my knee. “The plan’s foiled, damnit.”

We smile at each other, it was weird. In this dim staircase on the musty carpet Harry and I share a moment. And i remember again, it wasn’t our first moment together. Although it was our first moment I could see his face.

“It was you,” I whisper.

He looks puzzled, and I open my mouth to explain but we’re interrupted.

“I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.”

“You and me both,” I recognize the voice as Rowan. That must mean it was Jared. At least I hoped it was.

They move towards us and we freeze. I clutch Harry’s arm accepting that we were going to be noticed, and I notice instead how toned he was, something the long sleeves on his button-ups at work ailed to showcase--I wonder if he worked out and what the rest of him might look like...

“This is it,” Jared stops nearly in front of us, but they’re so busy staring into each other’s eyes they don’t see us. He opens his door and they disappear, the sound of a lock, a giggle, and a slam against the door.

I let out a breath and hear Harry beside me doing the same.

“That was close. Can you imagine if they saw us? We must look so creepy in the dark…” I trail off when I look at Harry. It must be the wrong thing to say because his jaw tightens.

“I should go back down,” he stands up and I’m ashamed to say I seriously considered asking him to stay. Instead I make a joke of it.

“And here I thought I would have your company a little longer.”

I look up, and then further up to look at his face. He stares for a second before checking, “are you feeling better?”

“Oh,” I remember suddenly why he was here in the first place. “Yeah, I am. Thanks Harry.”

His gaze darkens, “Don’t…”

“Don’t?” I ask when he leaves his sentence unfinished.

“Uhm, don’t…don’t,” he stalls. “Don’t forget to lay off the alcohol, it won’t mix well with…anxiety.”

“Oh right,” for a second I thought he was going to say something a little more life changing. But this was Harry, and right on cue the unspoken rules of our relationship comes crashing down on us like a noose.

“I’ll see you around,” he finishes with both hands stuffed in his pocket. With a lingering look, I hear him rushing down the main staircase. Not soon after, I hear unsavoury noises from the bedroom so I follow his footsteps back down.

I find a water bottle in the fridge and take it with me, walking outside until I reach my car parked down the street. I sit inside, text Rowan where I was, and then pull the lever to flatten out my seat. I was exhausted and I couldn’t face the room of people in that house. Especially not Dru, and especially not Harry with the oddly charged conversation we just had. Something shifted for a moment between us and I think it might be from my end. I realized he was Twenty One from my first day of uni.

I had looked for him a couple weeks after that encounter once I was thoroughly over the embarrassment from that day. I searched the field for the whole week any time a game was on. It was only on the Friday that I spotted 21. I’d approached him, thanked him, and he’d looked at me like I was on drugs.

“Wrong person,” he’d said with a concerned face. “I don’t think we’ve never met.”

And we hadn’t, his voice was higher and more boyish than my twenty-one.

“I’m sorry,” mortified, again. “Sorry. Let’s just…pretend this never happened!”

“Sure,” he’d shrugged.

Six years later, I’d found him in the figurative sense because apparently he’d been there all along. He knew me before Dru and I happened, yet he’d stayed away from ever approaching me and even then, believing Dru’s lies. It was difficult for me to map what was true about Harry and what I had romanticized about him before I knew it was him.

But at the end of it, all I can really conclude was this: he was kind when he didn’t need to be. And when he found me in the same state today, despite our history at work, he showed the same kindness. Maybe he wasn’t good, but he was decent.

I really just wanted to know, who was the real Harry and what had made him this way with me?

Harry:

I’m sitting here amongst friends, some of these people I’m seeing for the first time in years. But my mind is somewhere else.

I can’t get her eyes out of my face; the cautious hope, the curiosity they held when she’d said And here I thought I would have your company a little longer. She looked at me like she did all those years ago. And with those eyes, my name sounded sin from her lips, Thanks Harry. The fact that I found her on the staircase leading up to my room, I could have helped her upstairs and...

Fuck, I couldn’t go down this road. It was wrong in so many ways, not to mention she was the kind of woman who could break my heart without a second thought. So I have to do what I’ve done with the two other moments I hold dear with us. I condense it, shrink it all the way down so I can bury it deep in my heart and forget about it. For now.

When I was alone and weak, I obsessed over these moments. I would think of what could have been. But for the me right now, they disappear as if they never mattered.

The thought hardens me into what I needed to be, to guard my heart. She’d stomped on it once before, and I couldn’t let her do it again.

But in the moment it takes for me to finish my drink, I make myself relive that moment to remind me why I could never grow soft towards her. I remember how dangerous she was for me:

“You’re not out of her league!” Ben claps me on the back. “You’ve been fucking drooling all over her since last year. Just make your move!”

“Yeah,” says our other friend. “You’ll never know if you can have her unless you grow the balls to test it out.”

“What do you think?” I ask Dru, the only one who was unusually quiet. We were assigned dorm mates in our first year. I never thought I’d find a best friend in him, but he was like a brother to me. The day I met Y/N he told me my constant grinning to myself was creeping him out. I’d told him about her, the girl behind the shed. Of course, I didn’t know her name then. But Dru had asked around for me, his brother had gotten the name somehow.

“I don’t really see her as your type--I’m sorry for saying the truth!” He defends himself when our other friends start booing him. “Look at her: scowl on her face, alone at a party—she wants attention and she’s upset she’s not getting any. You really want a high maintenance girl?”

He’d called her high maintenance once before. I’d gotten her name, and we had finally spotted her at a party a couple weeks later. She had been clinging onto her friend Rowan the whole party, obviously socially anxious. Dru had pointed out that anxious girls were too high maintenance, I was in my prime years and having a clingy girlfriend was going to kill my vibe. “You’re 18, you don’t want endgame at 18.” He’s said; he helped me give her space when she needed it.

“He doesn’t have to marry her,” Ben says. “Hook up, and then tell her no strings.”

She wasn’t just a hook up though, I knew that. Since that day on the field, my crush on her only grew any time I saw her. It was amazing, every time I saw her she looked a bit more like herself and it only intensified my feelings. Of course, she always looked past me so I never got to know if she thought anything of me. Except for one night at a party last year when I bumped into her when she was really drunk, but even after that she never looked my way. Maybe today was my chance.

“I just don’t want you to get crushed. Trust me,” Dru says to me. “I’ve been with tons of girls like her. They just want a guy to make out with and make them feel special. I bet if I go up to her she’ll come on to me.”

“Really?” Our friends ask hesitantly, which makes me feel a bit sick-imagining her making out with Dru.

“D’you wanna bet?” Dru faces us, gleeful in the face of a challenge. “Alright, alright how about this? I’ll go up and tell her you want her number. But watch, she’ll decide she likes the attention she already has from me and--mate, do you think I’m joking?”

“No I just…” I didn’t want Dru to do that. Because Dru was usually right about these kinds of things and I didn’t want him to be right this time. I know I wasn’t making her up in my head, but I’ve also never talked to her.

“Get this on camera so I don’t have to say I told you so,” Dru goes on like he didn’t hear me. “I’m sorry Styles, I’m about to prove this to you.”

He goes up to her, the scowl stays on her face until she puts a hand on her hip. Then she looks back at us and my heart hammers in my chest, I feel like I’m going to have a fucking heart attack. She says something to him, I try to read her lips but she’s too far away. She looks back at us and smiles, waving her hand at us. I think, this is it, she was going to remember me and give Dru my number. But times takes a slothful pace as she turns her gaze back to Dru. It’s her ring that catches the light, and I’m confused because it’s on the back of Dru’s head. Her ring is-

“Ohh fuck,” Ben swears, lowering his phone. "He was right.”

It’s a disaster I can’t look away from, my brain barely processes how she tugs him closer to her, it’s only when her back hits the wall and they part that the implication of this moment hits me. I feel sucker-punched. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t Y/N. It couldn’t be.

Dru looks back at me, he looks apologetic, even mouths sorry. I sense her looking too but I can’t stop staring at Dru, she kissed him. She kissed him and I will never have her, this person I’ve slowly fell for she’s never going to happen to me.

But what comes shocking is when she goes to kiss him again, he stops her and for a split second I think he’s going to step away and come back to us. But they leave, they leave the fucking room.

“Did he just...”

“If Dru can get it, why not? Sorry Harry, guess she was just like the rest of them.”

“Is he...?” I can’t even ask the question, and my friends can’t answer because we all know how fucked up it was that Dru had taken this chance to prove something to me, and stepped over the line.

“She’s just a girl, there’s plenty of them at this party mate. Forget about her.” they try to comfort me but I’m not easily fixed. Something just cracked inside of me, and I didn’t have the tools to fix it.

Dru finds me the next day, I’m packing my room for the summer. I was going to spend it in London but I decided I needed a break, I was going back to Manchester for a few weeks before meeting my mates in Spain.

He tells me he was sorry, she was just that kind of girl and he did me a favour. He saved me from a broken heart. He asks me if I ever really knew her, that I fantasized about her so much I made her something she wasn’t. And the more he talks, the more I come to see his point. But a small part of me still stings, because the connection we had that day in the field, and the stolen moment at last year’s party, they were real. So when he asks whether I was still staying in London, I stand stronger in taking a break. I needed to clear my head, and piece my heart back together again. Something in me knew then, things weren’t going to be the same.

“Harry,” the sound of glass hitting glass breaks me out of my memory. Dru stands in front of me with one brow raised. “Mate, I’ve been calling your name.”

“Yeah,” I look around, no one seemed to notice my mental absence.

“You alright?” he holds up his beer and clanks it against mine again. “I was asking if you want a refill? Yours’ empty.”

“I think I’m done for the night,” I admit.

“It’s only 10!” Dru shouts. “Somebody get this man an earl grey, he’s retiring for bed!”

A couple of our friends laugh but most people are interested in their own conversations so they don’t notice. I needed out of this room, I walk out to the kitchen in the back of the house. Dru follows of course.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks as he pulls two new drinks out from the fridge. He stands rigid before turning back to look at me with a smirk. “Oh...I know. You saw Y/N right? Don’t tell me you’re still letting her get in your head.”

I stare at him for a moment, blank faced. I realize, I don’t think I’ve actually told him I worked in the same company as her. It wasn’t conscious, I was pretty sure I’d told Jared but I guess Jared hadn’t told him either. Dru had no idea I saw Y/N at least 3 days a week. And apparently, in the 6 months we were under the same roof, I hadn’t told him...at all.

“No,” I spot the bottle opener beside the sink and open our bottles. I guess I would have one more. “It’s just been a long week, I haven’t seen half these people in a couple years I’m just...”

“Getting old,” Dru slaps me on the back. “You’ve been gone too long mate. Not to worry though, I’ll fix you right up, let’s get back to the party.”

I let him drag me back out physically, but in every other aspect I wasn’t really here. My mind was stuck in the past, reliving my uni days. Nothing was making sense again.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- The Arrival

Here we finally have it.  All of the governments meet for the first time.  If you want to see more of one particular person or group, or just have any cool ideas to throw in, ask away!  Enjoy the story!

Mass Effect Galaxy

The Citadel

It had been rather the hectic week (and month) for the entire universe.  Everyone had scrambled for information; the fight to find out exactly what to expect from their sudden new neighbors.  Agents had been sent out, intelligence had been collected, reports had been made, and, out of the blue, one government, the Citadel Council, had invited most of the major players from the various galaxies to the negotiations table.  Reactions had… varied.  Greatly.  But, in the end, all of the invitees had arrived on schedule.  

Commander Shepard was quite glad the Council had taken his suggestion to beef up the Citadel Fleet seriously.  The different governments had each arrived with their own starship or, in many cases, starships.  The starships were as varied as the governments themselves.  The Galactic Assembly had arrived in several plain metal, box-like starships, led by Adam Vir’s Omen.  Respectable.  Nothing the Fleet couldn’t handle.  

The government from Quill’s home galaxy had shown in one rather small ship.  He still didn’t know the government’s name.  Curious.  He quietly vowed to find out.

The United Federation of Planets had, too, arrived in a small fleet of their strange, saucer-strapped-to-engines starships led by James Kirk’s Enterprise.  Once more, sensible.  Respectable.  Easily handled.  

So too did both the Frontier Militia and Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation arrive.  They had been directed to opposite docking bays, considering their history.  A wise move.  Someone had their head firmly on their shoulders.  

Thomas Drake had led a small collection of luxury ships, his clients, into their docking bays.  No problem.  No military threat.  

The UNSC had arrived in two ships.  Blocky and boxy, they too were directed to their places without incident.  

The New Republic arrived in a motley collection of ships in various shapes and sizes.  One minor bureaucratic hassle later, they were docked.  

It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, the last two that were a problem.  Three massive, kilometer long Star Destroyers had heralded the arrival of the Galactic Empire.  The largest ship in Shepard’s galaxy was the Destiny Ascension, also a kilometer long.  It was the long held belief that no one could match it, as the requirements for building something bigger would be astounding.  Now, the Empire had three such ships, each more powerful, with larger guns, internal fighter hangars, and enough troops inside to pacify a planet.  

The next arrival had blown everyone else out of the water.  The Imperium of Man had shown up in a six-and-a-half kilometer floating cathedral.  Shepard had seen nothing like it, and didn’t quite understand why anyone would build a starship like that.  It was as if someone had taken a gothic basilica, made it starship-sized, then slapped on an unholy amount of guns.  Shepard didn’t know what was on board, either.  Matter of fact, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what was on board.  

What’s more is, due to their large size and masters’ temperament, the Imperial ships would not and could not dock.  So now they hung threateningly over the Citadel, turbo-lasers and lance batteries pointing menacingly into space.  Shepard did not at all envy Matriarch Lidanya, captain of the Destiny Ascension, or, for that matter, any of the other fleet captains of the different governments.  Tangling with the Chimaera or the Watch Eternal, the flagship of the Empire and the Imperium’s dreadnought respectively, was a daunting prospect.   

So far as yet, no one had killed each other, a situation that Shepard fervently hoped would remain in place.  Currently, he was standing outside the security gates, lounging next to various members of his crew and a very amused Adam Vir.  Security was another hassle.  The Council, quite reasonably, wanted the members of each delegation to surrender their weapons at the customs area.  The delegates, also quite reasonably, did not want to go unarmed into unknown territory.  Things had come to a head after the Imperium of Man had shown up with a cadre of heavily armed and heavily armored troopers who looked positively excited at the prospect of going full rock-and-roll mode against everything moving.  Citadel Security had tried to disarm them, the Tempestus Scion bodyguards had almost shot the Turian security officer, Cain had calmed things down, C-Sec had once more tried to disarm them, the Galactic Empire had pointed out that their black-armored Death Trooper bodyguards would also not be surrendering their weapons, C-Sec had called for Spectre backup, both Shepard and Cain had convinced everyone else to let the bodyguards keep their weapons, abielt under the watchful eyes of armed C-Sec agents, and Peter Quill and Adam Vir had a massive laugh at the commotion.  

Currently, Thomas Drake and his employers (the Merchant’s Guild, remembered Shepard) were going through security with little hassle.  The generally old and quite calculating-looking members of the Guild had no weapons, and Drake and his armsmen were being remarkably compliant.  They went through quickly, and Drake slid up to Shepard and Vir.  

“So… how many weapons did you manage to smuggle in?” asked Shepard conversationally.  Drake sniffed.

“Enough to kill, oh, at least everyone within sight,” replied Drake as if he were talking about the weather.  Shepard grunted, then turned towards the security checkpoint to watch the New Republic diplomats enter.

“You mind telling me how?” he asked.  Drake gave one of his devious grins.

“A good magician never reveals their secrets!”  Vir rolled his eyes in response.  Security was, unfortunately, or, depending on your point of view, fortunately, not quite perfect.  Vir had been allowed to take his Iron Eye suit through, Cooper any other Pilots coming through were still wearing their Pilot Suits, Master Chief was in full combat gear (so, his normal clothing), Drake had god-only-knew-what on him, and almost everyone was allowed to retain their sidearms.  

That wasn’t even including the super powered people now walking around the flowing streets of the Citadel.  Shepard had known of super soldiers (indeed, several of the Scoundrels themselves could be considered as such), but people with what could be considered superpowers were a little more unnerving.  There were biotics where he came from: individuals who could create and manipulate mass effect fields using their bodies.  They had super powers, in a sense.  But some of the people here…  Along with the New Republic came an unassuming man wearing a simple black tunic and knee length black boots.  Shepard knew, with information from Solo, that this was Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi, someone who could move things with their mind and do all sorts of other ridiculous things.  With the delegation from Quill’s galaxy came a blond haired woman wearing a blue and red jumpsuit; a superhero, if he’d ever seen one, an ebony-skinned, dark-haired diplomat who, despite his laid back attitude, simply screamed ‘deadly!’, and Thor, the literal Norse god of thunder.  How, precisely, was one supposed to fight something like that?  Just go up and politely ask a lighting god to stop?  Unlikely.  

He was snapped out of his reverie by a nudge from Vir.

“Hey.  They’re starting the tour,” he said, and pointed to a Council diplomat leading the delegates through the Citadel, narrating like a tour guide as she did.  Shepard almost laughed aloud at the sight of the various groups walking together, from stark uniforms to over-elaborate dress robes.  He gave a nod to his crew members, and they hefted their weapons and slowly followed the tour.  Vir talked as they walked.

“You know, this is great,” he started with an excited grin.  “This place, all these species working together, talking together, living together…  it’s, well, great.  I said that already, didn’t I?”  He barely paused for breath, then continued.  “The GA has a space station for diplomacy, a… neutral ground, for lack of a better word, but nothing like… this.”  He gestured at the false sky, the massive open areas, and the breathtaking architecture.  “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”  Garrus Valkarian chuckled behind them and Shepard gave a rueful shake of his head.  

“Adam Vir.  Never change,” he said as he straightened out to follow the tour.  They walked slowly, following the delegates at a safe distance.  Vir dropped back as Sunny slid up to him.  

“What do you think?” he murmured.  She glazed, amused, at some of the diplomats and bodyguards giving her wary looks.  The Drev were by far the biggest and tallest race here, something she was endlessly entertained by.  

“They seem nice enough.  The Citadel Council shouldn’t be a problem.  Most of the more diplomatic ones should be fine as well.”  She gave a low chortle.  “I’m not even afraid of the Imperium.  Cain ought to put in a good word for us.”  Vir smiled back.

“True.  But, just in case, have Kanon stand by.”  Sunny nodded.  

“Don’t worry.  The Drev clan will be ready to go.”  And with full weapons, too.  No one thought spears were a significant enough problem to warrant disarmament.  More fool them, then.   

The members of the Merchant’s Guild were barely listening to the guide; their looks instead shrewdly appraising everything in sight.  Martin Crossgrow turned to Drake, lips pursed in calm consideration.  

“How much do you think it would cost to build this place?”  Drake didn’t hesitate with an answer.

“Fifty to seventy-five quadrillion Federal credits to build a station exactly like this.  Thirty billion to build a warhead powerful enough to blow it all up.”  Crossgrow gave a low, humorless laugh in response, and turned to one of his immaculately tailored colleagues.  

“You see, this is why I hire Drake.  He knows what he’s talking about.”

Outwardly, Commissar Ciaphas Cain was an epitome of calm.  Inwardly, he was roiling.  There were just so.  Many.  Xenos.  Everywhere.  Walking openly in the streets as if they didn’t have acare in the world, eating, shopping, even mingling with humans.  Even the supposedly pro-human Galactic Empire was being led by a tall, blue-skinned humanoid alien wearing a neatly pressed Admiral’s uniform.  The Imperial delegation, of which he was security chief, was being escorted by even more xenos.  Of course, since he was security chief, if anything went wrong, he would have to deal with it.  Wonderful.  

“Hello, Ciaphas.”  The voice broke his thoughts, and he turned to face one of the robed diplomats he was assigned to protect.  A rush of emotions and memories was brought to the surface: an undercover cabernet singer with a beautiful voice, stinking tunnels filled with genestealers and untrustworthy criminals, a figure in golden power armor massacring her way through hordes of enemies. 

“Amberley?” he asked, flabbergasted.  The diplomat threw back her hood, revealing a familiar face, framed by blond neat blond hair.  Amberley Vail, Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos, smiled up at him.  

“Surprised to see me here?” she asked.  

“Uh… yes, actually,” replied Cain.  Vail laughed.  

“Did you really think diplomats would be sent to a meeting this important without… oversight?”  Cain’s stomach turned to ice.  HIs palms started to tingle, a sure sign that something was wrong.  

“What do you mean by that?” he inquired tentatively.  Vail subtly nodded to another robed diplomat.

“You remember Rasmus, don’t you?”  The robed man turned, face hidden beneath the robe and a neat black beard, and nodded once.  Of course Cain remembered; how could he forget that horrible business?  More memories flashed through his head.  An insane governor, selling his soul into eternal damnation for the promise of pleasure, hacking his way through living shrubbery, Jurgen and Amberely hot on his heels, and, of course, Inquisitor Rasmus Vekkman fighting an unholy abomination with strange, archaic weapons.  Vail nodded once more and gestured to another delegate.

“And of course, we need to complete the triumvirate of Ordos Majoris.  You’ve never met her, but that’s Inquisitor Melflic Aetius of Hereticus,” finished Vail.  Cain was fairly certain his blood had frozen in his veins.  One Inquisitor was a problem.  Three though… That was three individuals with unlimited authority and the full backing of the Imperium of Man.  Three Inquisitors on the same mission was completely unheard of.  Apparently, his thoughts did not register on his face, for Amberley continued.  

“On the Watch Eternal we also have a regiment of Tempestus Scions.”  Cain was only saved from stopping short, jaw hanging out, by his long-learned masterful control over his emotions.  Scions, also known as Tempestus Stormtroopers, were the deadliest and highest-trained normal human soldiers within the Imperium.  Now there was an entire regiment of them aboard the starship hanging in orbit above the Citadel.  He stopped short for a moment at Vail’s next words.  “And a full Deathwatch Kill-team,” she stated nonchalantly.  The Deathwatch was something else entirely.  Made up of Space Marines, eight foot tall genetically engineered, power armor-wearing transhuman super soldiers, the Deathwatch was the Inquisition’s specialized anti-alien group.  Cain could understand Scions.  Perhaps an Inquisitor, and a small group of Space Marines.  But now there were three Inquisitors, a full regiment of Scions, and, by what he inferred, a very beefed up and probably quite veteran Kill-team.  Oh dear Emperor, this is going to end badly.  

“Anything else I should know about?” he all but hissed at Amberley.  She pursed her lips, considering.  

“I suppose.  You are our chief of security, after all,” she replied, her eyes full of mischief.  And what a terrible idea it was to take that job, Cain fumed.  “There’s also an Assassinorum Execution Force.”  Is it even possible to be any more surprised?  ‘Cause if it is, I’m about to win an award.  Cain knew little about the mysterious and highly lethal Officio Assassinorum; hell, most citizens didn’t even know it existed.  What he did know, however, was that it trained some of the most potent killers in the galaxy.  That’s all he ever wanted to know, for people who went polking into the workings of such organizations rarely returned alive.  

“Do you mind telling me exactly why there are so many deadly groups here?” he muttered, conscious of drawing too much attention.  Vail smiled again, but this time there was nothing in her eyes save the coldest ice.  

“Of course, my dear Ciaphas.  It’s simple.  All of these xenos better be honest and on the level.  Or else.” 

And there it is.  Sort of a cold war situation going on; every faction is trying to be as diplomatic as possible and present the best face possible, but if something goes wrong, their all dropping in their most elite soldiers.  Next story we’ll go over more reactions and explore some of the people and groups I didn’t cover here.  If you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, questions, or requests, feel free to ask!  

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Of Freckles and War | Fred Weasley

✦ pairing — Fred Weasley x Mexican American Plus Size Reader (she/her)

✦ word count — 4k

✦ summary — you were only supposed to provide security for Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of war, some violence, fluff

✦ a/n — this was requested by a lovely reader who showed me a receipt of her donation (based off this post). Thank you so much, @5pantherpride, first of all for donating and of course for trusting me with this.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Weddings — you were neutral to them. You even were glad for people who fulfilled their goal to marry, but you found the timing of Bill’s and Fleur’s less than ideal.

The Order had a lot of things to worry about. Short on members and with the infiltration in The Ministry at its peak, you surely wished you could help in better ways.

Security duty wasn’t new to you, but it was the first time you were to fulfill it without Moody. His death was another reason why you wished you could be somewhere else. He had been the closest thing you had to a mentor.

At least the dress fit you nicely, way better than you had imagined it would. Finding one in such times hadn’t been the easiest task, much less with your schedule.

Offering to help with the guests so you could watch them closely, you introduced yourself to Bill’s twin brothers.

You had seen them before from afar, but that was it. Mrs. Weasley constantly said they were too young to be part of The Order so you assumed staying away to avoid problems would be better.

Smiling at the first arriving guests, you consulted the seating plan and guided them to their seats.

“Shut your mouth,” George snickered, pushing Fred’s chin so his mouth would clamp closed.

Fred shook his head, realizing he hadn’t stopped staring at the spot you had been standing in.

The marquee filled with voices and laughs rather soon. Your nerves increased as people continued arriving, unable to shake the bad feeling simmering in your stomach.

The more you thought about it, the more sense having a wedding in such unprecedented times made. Bill and Fleur just as their families, could very well be captured or killed at any moment. A gathering like this, though, was beyond your logical understanding.

He was sure you liked his brother, although he didn’t understand why when he had always been slightly more handsome, but that didn’t stop Fred from approaching you.

“Would you like to dance?”

You turned around to acknowledge him. “I would.”

He offered his hand staring intently at you as you placed your palm on top of his. He took a shaky breath in and guided you to the dancing area.

“I’m Fred, by the way,” he felt the need to let you know.

“I am aware.”

Tilting his head, he halted his steps on a spot away from his mom.

You explained, “You have a scar on your left eyebrow.”

Impressed, Fred placed a hand on your waist to lead you. In answer you rested your other hand on his shoulder, looking just past it.

Harry seemed to be annoyed by something —or someone— which made you believe he had seen or heard something suspicious.

“Is there someone you would rather be dancing with behind me?”

You shook your head, dragging your eyes back to Fred. “Of course not. I’m just being— oh, Merlin, what’s that word? Worried? No, no. Cuidadosa... cautelosa podría ser... Madre de Dios, ¿cómo se dice en inglés?”

[Careful... it could be cautious... Mother of God, how do you say it in English?]

The couple closest to you stared in confusion as you kept going. “¿Meticulosa? No, eso no tiene sentido... cuidadosa, sí. Lo cual es lo mismo que cautelosa pero cómo se dice...”

[Meticulous? No, that doesn’t make sense. Careful, yes. Which is the same as cautious but how do you say it...]

Fred pursed his lips at your language switch. Your accents were different in each one which caught his attention. He wanted to know why, if you had learned them both at the same time, or which one was your native language.

Entertaining the sad idea that you might have been trying to ditch him, he suddenly frowned. “You’re looking for an excuse to leave?”

“No, no!” You whined, sure you had said the word in the past few days. “How is it called when someone is being careful because they are worried? It starts with a W.”

“...wary?”

You could’ve kissed him. “Yes, that one!”

With a lingering laugh in his voice, he tried to reason with you, “Well, Bill and Fleur didn’t invite many people.”

“No, but polyjuice exists. I could be a Death Eater disguised as me and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“That accent wouldn’t be easy to mimic, don’t worry.”

“It’s easier to understand than some I’ve heard around here,” you defended yourself, not offended at all by his comment.

A light irrupted into the marquee and you immediately knew whose Patronus it was.

Kingsley’s message proved you right and triggered panic as mayhem all over the place ensued. You pulled your wand out, looking around to see how many people were left.

Leaving would have been a good idea, but too many invitees had fled already and it would bring more trouble to The Weasley Family.

Not unfamiliar with their scare tactics, you did your best to remain calm as the Death Eaters questioned the family.

You admired how unfazed they tried to appear as their house was inspected. They must’ve been expecting the visit for days now.

“I’ll prepare tea,” Mrs. Weasley shakily said.

“Let me do it,” you mumbled, waving your wand as Bill helped his mother to sit down.

Mr. Weasley leaned over, reminding you to drop a splash of firewhiskey in his wife’s tea through a whisper. Nodding, you did as you were told and carried the cup toward the living room.

“You are staying, right, (Y/N)?” Mr. Weasley asked as you waved your wand to pour a cup of tea for Fleur’s mom.

“I don’t want to impose,” you assured them, “I can manage on my own — it would be safer for everyone.”

“I would feel better if you stayed,” Mr. Weasley sighed, “Everyone here would.”

“Kingsley said—“

“I’ll talk to him,” he interrupted.

You turned to look at everyone else, but no one added any other comment.

You couldn’t sleep. The room wasn’t the problem, nor the accommodations The Weasleys had given you — everything else was. People were disappearing at a worryingly exponential rate, and you couldn’t shake off the guilt of not being out there helping in some way.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

The Weasleys would surely be watched carefully and suddenly leaving The Burrow in the middle of the night would put a bigger target on them.

You leaned onto the doorframe, watching the rain as it slowly fell down the garden. Grown used to the unruly weather such times had brought, you were trying to find pleasant parts in it like its smell and soothing sound.

“Can’t sleep either?”

You craned your neck to look at Fred. He rubbed his eye with his right hand as he held a glass of water in his left.

“The weather is nice.”

Humming, he chugged the water down. Instead of going back to sleep, he pulled a chair out and then another. Fred sat down on the second one, waiting for you to take the other.

You did so, thanking him in a nod. The kitchen, only illuminated by the fading light the lamps outside gave, felt bigger than it was.

“Is Ginny giving you trouble?”

“No,” you answered immediately. His sister was lovely, she kept mostly to herself which you understood but on occasions, she would ask about which other jobs you had done for The Order.

You learned she wanted to join The Order more than anything. She would also talk highly of her siblings, even teasing you when you asked more about Fred.

Your dance had been cut off, so had the conversation. You had enjoyed yourself for once, of course you would want to know more about him.

After watching him from afar for an entire summer, you had imagined that not stuttering around him was progress. But you were at war, and war didn’t give time for getting to know people you’ve been crushing on for a while.

He took you out of your self-absorption, “You said it would be safer if you didn’t stay here. Why?”

Ah, that. “I have history with... them.”

You didn’t explain yourself further on and Fred sensed he shouldn’t press on it for now.

He opened his mouth to make a joke and lighten up the mood, but you spoke first, “Do you think muggles will have enough help?”

No, he didn’t think so. However, Fred didn’t have the heart to tell you that. “There are a handful of good witches and wizards out there still.”

You nodded. Good witches and wizards' existence wouldn’t make a difference if they didn’t act on it, but for some reason, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

He would surely be able to take it, he probably knew it already — but you didn’t want to say it out loud either way.

Fred placed a hand on top of yours, squeezing it. You must’ve looked like you needed comfort. Lifting your fingers so his own would fit between them, you gripped his.

The Kitchen started appearing clearer as the blue light of the early morning entered through the door and windows.

Under the blue tones, Fred’s eyebrow scar looked clearer. You could’ve counted his freckles if you had enough time. But you couldn’t, Mrs. Weasley would need help around the house at any minute.

Deciding it was better to go get ready for the day, you begrudgingly withdrew your hand. Fred’s eyes danced over your face, trying to assess what you would do next.

“Thank you for the company,” you whispered, not taking your eyes off his face either.

His eyes dropped to your lips only to go back to your eyes. Clearing his throat, he nodded, “No problem.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

More people were reported as disappeared as the weeks progressed. Your worries only increased as news from members of The Order got more sporadic — it was safer that way, and detrimental to your mental wellbeing.

You had the bedroom for yourself now. Ginny had taken The Hogwarts’ Express a couple of weeks ago. She had been upset, but not more than her family with the number of changes the school seemingly had made.

You wondered how Ilvermorny was doing.

Although you were living with four people, you didn’t talk much to them. Mr. Weasley was overwhelmed with work constantly, Mrs. Weasley tried to keep herself busy around the house, Fred and George had a shop to attend and sporadically helped their friend Lee with Potterwatch.

As for yourself, you were able to help The Order here and there. Nothing too extreme so you wouldn’t gain unnecessary attention and put The Weasleys in more danger. That was why you hadn’t wanted to stay there.

“I would use Ginny’s bed if I were you,” Fred said from the doorway, surprised to see you hadn’t locked yourself that afternoon.

You put the clothes you had been folding to the side and looked up at him. “That would be invasive.”

“And funny. May I?”

You nodded. It was his house after all.

Fred did sit on Ginny’s bed, amused by what he was seeing. You supposed he wasn’t granted entrance that often.

He and George had an unspoken pact with their little sister, she didn’t try to sneak into their room and they wouldn’t threaten her privacy. It was great, but Fred had always been curious.

More curious he was as to what was going on with you. Mrs. Weasley had sent George to ask you if you needed anything and not him, probably because everyone considered his brother as the sensitive one.

“Mum’s worried.”

“I’m fine.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “When did I say she was worried about you?”

“Why else would you tell me?”

“To chat.”

You tilted your head. He was funny, but not a very good liar.

“You look really sad.”

“I feel useless,” you confessed, smoothing the sleeves of an old t-shirt. “I was supposed to become an Auror this year.” Sighing, you shook your head, “God, I sound entitled...”

“Aurors aren’t particularly safe at the moment.”

“Much less if there isn’t enough of them.”

Fred leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Why do you want to be one? It sounds like too much work.”

You shrugged, not sure anymore. You liked the idea of doing the right thing, being able to ensure people were safe and evil was kept in check... but doing it for a ministry didn’t sound like something you could do.

“It’s different in America,” you explained, pulling a pair of socks from the freshly done laundry. “Not better, I’ll admit that, just different. MACUSA didn’t stop taking on aurors, for example.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

The socks in your grasp fell to your lap. “I wanted to be ready for the moment when I had to fight them again.”

Silence fell between you. Fred’s eyes were on you like they seemed to always be since you arrived. There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding.

“I believe you’re still ready.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Fred smirked, “I’m always right.” He made a pause, slanting his head to the side. “Almost always.”

You chuckled. “Who said that?”

“I did.”

You had expected him to answer just that and yet you were still amused by the comment. Oh, you were falling quite fast.

And he knew it. There was no doubt in Fred’s mind that you actually liked him and not George. You didn’t stare at George as much as you stared at him nor smiled so brightly when you greeted his brother — you were nice to everyone but you were more comfortable with him and Fred really liked that.

He took your hands, making you stand up as he did the same. You liked the difference in size and how his hands didn’t feel soft like most people expected their crushes’ hands to be but warmer than any other hand you had taken.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. George stuck his head into the room. “Dinner.”

Fred nodded, “We’ll be there in a minute.”

George pursed his lips, lifting both eyebrows. He still left you alone, reminding both of you to not take too long.

This was his best chance. Fred leaned over, capturing your lips in a short kiss. You slid one of your hands off his grasp to place it on the back of his head, pulling him into another kiss. His free hand rested on your hip as you tilted your head to kiss him more comfortably.

“I can’t take you out right now...” he sighed, lips still brushing yours as your eyes barely fluttered open, “but maybe we could have a picnic when everybody is asleep?”

You smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

George shook you and Ginny awake. “Get up, we don’t have much time!”

You were up in a second. “What’s wrong? Where’s Fred?”

“Packing.” George pointed his wand at Ginny’s trunk.

“Where are we going?” Ginny asked, rubbing her eyes as you made George turn around so you could get changed.

“Somewhere safer. Death Eaters know we’ve been helping Harry.”

“I can’t go with y—“

“Just shut up and hurry,” George interrupted you, voice softer than one would expect those words to come out of anyone’s mouth.

Ginny and you would be the first ones to be gotten out of The Burrow. The others could take hours to join you or days, whichever was safer.

“We’ll need you and your training more than ever, (Y/N),” Mr. Weasley reminded you.

You cast a glance towards Ginny who was blinking furiously while bouncing her leg.

You nodded at Fred, silently assuring him you would protect his sister. He nodded back, not doubting it for a second.

Aunt Muriel was a weird woman. Clearly not a bad person, but perhaps an entitled one. Ginny had already told you to not take anything she said personally, but you hadn’t understood the warning until she made a comment about the color of your pajamas.

It didn’t take many days for the family to be as complete as it could. From what you knew, Charlie was still in Romania and no one had news of Percy. You had never met the latter but Fred had lengthily complained about him.

Speaking about Fred, he and George had packed more than Ginny and you for some reason. There were five trunks in their provisional room instead of two.

You asked for permission to enter which Fred granted with an enthusiastic nod. Closing the door behind you as he sat down on the bed, you then approached him.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, eyes not meeting yours. “Can you... talk to me in Spanish or something?” Seeing your confusion, he abashedly explained, “It calms me.”

In the five months you had been together, Fred had never really reacted to your babbling in Spanish. You had assumed he was just unfazed, but his explanation made more sense.

You sat down next to him, placing a hand on his upper back. “Do you want a story?”

He nodded, “Anything.”

Fred laid down, curled up as his head rested on your lap. He listened attentively, wishing he could understand everything you were saying.

Maybe when the war was over you could teach him Spanish.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Oh fuck. Turns out wounds not only hurt but stung — you had forgotten the last time you had been injured, probably that time Moody made you sneak into that shop in Knockturn Alley to look for an artifact.

“What were you thinking?!” Fred screeched, pushing Percy, who had been the one to move you to a safer spot, to the side to kneel beside you.

You looked at Mrs. Weasley who was battling Yaxley a few meters away from you, visibly desperate to approach her sons. “No mother should lose her child. My family is already dea—“

He shushed you, “Don’t.”

You tried to move, uncomfortable by the rubble digging into your back. Palming the ground in search of your wand, you whined.

“Do you need a bandage?”

You gritted your teeth. The pain in your lower stomach was unbearable and Ferula wouldn’t fix it.

“Can you cast healing spells?”

Fred shook his head, applying pressure to your wound.

“You would be a shit Auror.”

He knew you were making light of it, but he didn’t find it in him to laugh. “Tell me what to do.”

“Poke it and—“ you groaned. The hand he had on your stomach was shaking, making the pressure waver.

Your skin was losing color. He looked at Percy, desperate — his know-it-all brother had always been good at every class. He had to know.

Percy approached you, looking at you with sadness before looking at Fred. He was about to say he didn’t know what to do when Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived to make sure all of you were safe on their way to The Shrieking Shack.

Harry only saw the blood on Fred’s hand and the desperation in his eyes. He had seen the same desperation in yours when you cast a spell that sent Fred flying out.

“I’ve seen Snape doing some type of magic... it puts the blood back in...”

You grunted, trying to nod.

“Is that the one?” Fred asked you.

You could only hum.

Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley was the one who did the spell. As amazing as Harry was, the part of his face you could still see looked terrified. He had enough on his plate already.

She slid her wand under your back, making the rock hurting you disappear. Closing your eyes, you gifted yourself a moment to breathe in and out.

“How come you didn’t know how to do it, Perce?”

You answered instead of Percy, “It’s not part of any school’s curriculum. It should, clearly, but it isn’t.”

“You would know that if you had finished school,” Mrs. Weasley said. You could’ve sworn she did so teasingly.

Innocently, you had thought saving Fred would be enough. As if loss would’ve disappeared from the world because he was safe. It was a nice concept, one you wished could be real for multiple reasons.

People you had considered the closest you had to a family like Nymphadora and Remus being the casualties of the war hadn’t crossed your mind.

It was over. At a high cost like every other war in history, yet you couldn’t believe it.

Fred, who was sat between you and George in The Great Hall, gave you a sideways glance.

He had properly known you for less than a year and you had already made him fear in ways he hadn’t only felt two times before — when Ginny was taken by Riddle to The Chamber of Secrets in his fifth year and when his dad had been attacked in his seventh year.

Dropping his hand on top of yours, he asked, “Do you want to take a walk?”

George turned to surprisedly look at his brother at the same time that you lifted your eyebrows. Your eyes crossed George’s who snickered before going back to his conversation with Lee.

“Sure,” you agreed, standing up.

Fred took your hand, walking aimlessly through the semi-destroyed halls. You could tell it affected him to watch his former school in such estate.

“You scared me.”

“I really didn’t want your mother to go through the loss of a child.”

He stopped the stroll quite abruptly. “So you wanted me to go through the loss of my girlfriend?”

“Fred...”

He shook his head, sliding his hand off yours to pass it through his hair. You didn’t know how it felt like, you hadn’t been the one watching their loved one bleed out in the middle of a battle.

He would’ve lost everything he had always wanted to have in a partner. Never had he imagined you would be so supportive of him, yet you had put up with his and George’s stupid plan of sending products by mail while the family had to hide at aunt Muriel’s and even helped them to package everything.

Everyone in the family liked you. He wouldn’t have cared if they didn’t, but it was nice to know that his partner was appreciated by the other people he loved so dearly.

Seeing a familiar frown on his brow, you warned him, “I’m not apologizing for doing it.”

Fred exploded. “What would have I done if something had happened to you?!” He yelled, using his hands to make emphasis.

You stood straighter, yelling back at him. “And what would have I done if that wall had collapsed on you?! Did you want me to stand there and watch?!”

Fred stayed silent which prompted you to add, in a softer tone, “It’s done, and it turned out okay.”

“It almost didn’t.”

“But it did,” you insisted.

His shoulders dropped. You were right, and bruised — but safe. The worst part was over already, he should have been focusing on that.

“You need to work on your anger issues,” you pointed out.

“And you need to stop throwing yourself into danger.”

You held your hands out for him to take. Fred opted for pulling you into a tight hug. The dust on his top itched your nose, but you didn’t have it in you to complain and instead hugged him back.

“I don’t want to live without you.”

”You’re everything I have left,” you mumbled on his chest, grimacing at the flavor of the dust clinging to your lips. “I mean, that includes your family and The Order, but you get what I mean.”

Humming, Fred rested his chin on the top of your head.

“My family really likes you. I think I’ll get disowned if I don’t marry you.”

“Is this your way of proposing?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Your answer, honestly. Don’t wanna look like a moron.”

Pushing him off to both look at him and have a break from the dust and grime on his clothes, you held him by the waist. Fred was serious, there was no mischief in his eyes as he waited for your answer.

“Well... I don’t want you to get disowned,” you joked, more nervous than you should have been. It was just him!

“And how else would I outdo Bill if it isn’t by marrying you?” he joked back.

Caressing his cheek, you nodded in agreement as a smile crept into your face. You were sure you would beam the same way Fleur had.

[alitaimagines]

“kyoya has been my hyperfixation lately so here you go! I have an hour lecture to listen too and I haven’t and by me writing this, I know I’m going to be rushing last minute to hear it.” 

character: kyoya ootori 

fandom: ouran high school host club 

song recommendation: in your eyes - the weeknd. 

being considered a commoner at Ouran was hard, being friends with rich people was even harder. having to live up to the standards that everyone who attended Ouran was something you learned the hard way. it was until you met Haruhi that you felt any shame of being a commoner drift away. 

“Haruhi!” you screamed for her. she turned around and gave you a smile realizing it was you, “are we still on for tonight? I know you have arrangements with your club so I didn’t know if we were still going to have the sleepover,” you asked. 

Haruhi nodded, “yeah, you can come over around six. I usually leave once Tamaki’s clinginess falters or Kyoya distracts him,” she mentioned. you nodded as you followed her to her class. 

“awesome. remember I’m bring the snacks!” you said waving her off. Haruhi couldn’t help but laugh at your loudness, “and I’m buying dinner!” she screamed back before entering her class. 

-

once the evening came and Haruhi was home, being the two of you were next door neighbors, you gave her a few minute to decompress before going next door. 

“hey, I already ordered our dinner, what did you bring for snacks?” Haruhi asked as you hauled the medium sized bag onto her coffee table, “anything under the son,” you joked as you dumped it onto the table .

Haruhi gave you a look before noticing how many things you actually brought, “Jesus Christ, you realize it’s only the two of us right?” she asked, “yeah? and? Ouran has been stressing me out so much that I feel like I’m going to go into cardiac arrest,” Haruhi laughed as the two of you reached for the snacks on the table. 

Friday sleepovers was a usual for the both of you. being that you didn’t have a lot of friends at Ouran and Haruhi tried to escape the host club at least for the weekend, the two of you found solace in each other. 

“I stole my brothers Wii so I can finally kick your ass at Mario Kart again,” you told Haruhi as she laughed, “yeah right. I beat you several times last time. give it up already!” 

you gave her the middle finger as you stood up, “I’m going to make our shakes. be useful and set it up,” you jokingly said as she threw the nearest pillow at you.

you made your way to the kitchen and started making the Friday night shakes as you liked to call them. Haruhi always preferred vanilla and you always went with strawberry. the two of you usually traded shakes halfway through so you wouldn’t get grossed out. 

just as you finished putting the syrup on your, you made your way to the living, dancing to the music Haruhi had playing as she set up the Wii. 

“hey, you ran out of milk so unless-,” you realized that Haruhi wasn’t paying attention you as she had a tall boy in her living room. 

“oh hey, this is ( your name ),” she told the boy as you gave him a nervous smile, “I know who she is,” he said as you gave him a bewildered look, “this is ( your name ). you’re a second year in the class next door next to mine. you also live next door to Haruhi and have these sleepovers every night.” 

you couldn’t help but look at Haruhi like he was crazy. she put her hand up in the air, “how would you know that?” Kyoya chuckled, “I know every thing about our members so I know every thing about their personal life as well.” 

Haruhi gave you a nervous smile as you stared down at the ground in panic and a bit freaked out, “don’t worry, I won’t intrude any longer. I just need you to sign these papers for the club and I’ll leave you guys alone,” Haruhi nodded as she looked down at the papers and quickly signed them. 

you on the other hand stayed quiet, not knowing what to say or do. you couldn’t fail to realize the looks Kyoya was giving you ever so often. you were a cute girl, he couldn’t deny that but he knew he probably made you uncomfortable when he told you all those fact. 

“would you like a shake? there’s probably enough left for one more,” you asked Kyoya. he stayed silent for a moment before silently shaking his head yes, “no problem! It shouldn’t take long,” you said before running back into the kitchen. 

“any preference of choice? vanilla, chocolate, banana, or strawberry?” you asked popping your head back out, “chocolate should be sufficient,” Kyoya said before you gave him a smile and going back into the kitchen. 

“but senpai, I thought you didn’t like sweats?” Haruhi asked. Kyoya chuckled again, “I don’t,” was all he said before going back to papers he brought for Haruhi. 

Haruhi wasn’t stupid. undeniably, she was one of the smartest in the Host Club so it didn’t take her too long to realize that he was, in someway, interested in you, “senpai, you know how we’re hosting the charity event tomorrow?” Kyoya nodded, “is it okay if she comes? she might not have the money to pay for the ticket but she could be my plus one since they’re allowed in for free?” 

Kyoya knew what Haruhi was doing but he decided to play along with it, “sure. make sure she’s dressed appropriately,” before he could say anything else, you walked back out from the kitchen, “here you go! I hope it isn’t too milky or too chocolatey!” you exclaimed as you put the to go lid on the cup, “I didn’t know what else to give you the shake in so I hope you don’t mind that it isn’t in my tumblr.” 

Kyoya waved off your concern as he stood up, “we’ll see you both tomorrow,” Kyoya said as you gave him a look, “tomorrow? why would I see the both of you tomorrow?” you asked Haruhi. 

she gave you a sheepish smile, “well you know that charity event that’s going on at Ouran tomorrow? I kinda said you were my plus one.” you growled as you slumped into her couch, “do you realize I have nothing to wear tomorrow? how fancy is the damn event anyway?” you asked or more like yelled. 

“don’t worry, anything business casual should be fine,” Kyoya mentioned before waving the two of you off. as soon as he left, you couldn’t help but chuck the pillow she threw at you back at her, “since when were you going to tell me this?” you asked as she avoided your eye. 

“I was going to tell you later tonight, why are you so nervous about it?” Haruhi asked, “I’m not nervous! I would just like to know about events you’re forcing me to attend a few days in advance!” you muttered. 

Haruhi shook her head realizing that it was the nervousness from seeing Kyoya that made you scream at her.

the rest of the night involved you asking questions about tomorrows event. every now and again, you would ask about Kyoya. was he single? did he seem interested in any of the girls in his class? did he want to marry a rich person? Haruhi wanted to ask you why were you invested in Kyoya’s personal life all of a sudden but didn’t bother too. 

-

you got up the next morning earlier than Haruhi. after leaving a few of the snacks on her table, you went back to your house to tell your mother the news. she couldn’t help but laugh knowing the host club usually put Haruhi into antics she didn’t want to be involved in and it was only time before you got involved. 

she let you borrow a dress that she had saved for you for an occasion like this. it was a cute white dress with a black blazer over it. it wasn’t exactly your type of style but you realized that you didn’t have another option. 

“hey Haruhi!” you screamed as you banged on her door. she slowly walked to the door and laughed at how you were dressed, “don’t tell me that’s how you plan on going?” you gave her a look before telling her that you were only partially dressed, “how long is the event? I need to know if I need to wear heels or not.” 

Haruhi ran to her book bag before taking a paper out, “it’s on a beach so I suggest heels or sandals if I were dressed like you,” she suggested as you screamed a thank you at her before returning to your own house. 

it didn’t much longer for you to get dressed and being that you were technically going with one of the members hosting the event, you had to be dressed and ready before anyone else. 

after grabbing your purse and filling it with a few left over snacks, you made your way back to Haruhi’s apartment. you didn’t know how rich people ate and you were afraid that you would in some capacity regret eating their food so you brought some in case. 

“ready to go? we’re taking the bus all the way the beach so we don’t want to miss it.” 

“or we could just tell my mom to drop us off. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” 

-

after your mom dropped the both of you off at the extremely nice beach, the two of you walked up to where the host club was. you felt a bit intimidated introducing yourself to everyone but it wasn’t long before all the invitee’s started to arrive. 

thankfully they had pulled a separate table for the host club to sit at. once they brought the food out and handed everyone their plates, you realized how wrong you were. the food looked edible enough and you were kind of excited to eat such high standard food. 

“hey, the host club has to do a few things, do you mind sitting with Kyoya while we get them done?” Haruhi asked. you shrugged as you took your phone out form your pocket and figured you might as well entertain yourself with that while she was gone. 

for a while, the table with just you and Kyoya remained silent. it wasn’t until you set your phone done, not wanting to drain its battery when Kyoya finally spoke up. 

“how long have you known Haruhi?” he asked as he set his pen down. you thought for a moment, “well, we didn’t go to the same middle school but when I realized that she was one of the only commoners at Ouran, we just kind of became friends. so maybe just two or two and a half years?” you said. 

he nodded, “how did you get into Ouran? the same way Haruhi did?” you nodded, “my marks were high enough in middle school that they gave me a scholarship to attend it. the only thing they couldn’t pay for was uniform so I had to pay on that on my own.” 

“how come I’ve never seen you around the host club? you’re rather close with Haruhi,” Kyoya asked again. you couldn’t help but sigh, you felt like you were playing twenty questions, “uhm, no one has really invited me and I don’t want to pay for things I don’t have the money for so I rather save myself the trouble of getting myself into the situation that Haruhi did.” 

Kyoya laughed as he noticed how busy the event suddenly got, “guests don’t pay for anything,” he mentioned. you jokingly rolled your eyes, “I’ve heard stories from Haruhi. in the end, I’ll somehow be paying for something.” 

“would you like to take a walk on the beach? I can tell you’re as uncomfortable as I am here,” you silently thanked him as you grabbed a few of your things and followed him through the crowd. 

the two of you managed to sneak away from the party and made it to the more calmer part of the beach, “it’s a wonderful evening, isn’t it?” you asked as you couldn’t help but laugh at the funny feeling of having your feet on the sand. 

“it is. I don’t do this often,” Kyoya mentioned as you gave him a sympathetic look, “I know but you should. walking on the beach or just walking anywhere really relaxes me at times,” you admitted. 

Kyoya nodded, “I know you rich people don’t really like to indulge in such commoner habits but taking a walk on the beach really eases a persons head,” Kyoya laughed at your little side comment. 

“I get the feeling that you think that ‘rich’ people come from another planet or something,” Kyoya said as you shrugged, “basically. my life in comparisons to yours isn’t exactly the same. not to bash on rich folks or anything but you guys wouldn’t know the half of it,” you explained. 

Kyoya shook his head understandingly, “well how about a deal?” you gave him a confused look, “we go on these walks once a week and you can come visit me once a week at the host club,” he offered. 

you knew that this was Kyoya’s version of asking you out. although he was a rather blunt person, he would never openly admit his feelings for someone. 

“deal,”

you shook hands with him as a warm feeling crossed your face and a small blush crossed his. the two of you realized that if you didn’t head back to the party, everyone would start getting suspicious and you would rather keep your future relationship as private as possible. or at least until Kyoya’s best friend, Tamaki, found out. 

ALITA 

[kazuzuha]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ part three

part one ; part two ; part four ; ...

this work is protected by copyright. copyright © kazuzuha ™ 2021

It took me another two years to find a new goal and remember my past one - the latter being that of me exploring the world, meeting new people, seeing the archons, eating new foods, feeling the wind of the highest mountains in Teyvat...

Interestingly, this goal that I had forgotten coincided with the one I had now; running away.

That was all I had in mind in the time gone by, all that truly kept me breathing in that suffocating place. My own mindset was an opposition to my mother’s, her traditional perfectionism trying to mold me into someone flawless, yet, not better than her. My own set of unbearably high standards wore me down, then were further pushed by her hand which ignored the fact that our pressures came from the same place. But I knew. I knew. 

It was at fifteen that I fully understood that knowing you are in an unhealthy situation does not call upon the Archons to help. 

Father was not around, busy with climbing ranks and taming the snowstorms. If he knew of my ambition, he would have agreed to that marriage proposal I had been given years ago, suspiciously immediately after the Tsaritsa’s interest in me was expressed. It was not that my father did not love or care for me; the opposite stood true. However, he was unaware of how deeply the mental scars inflicted by my mother ran. She was a good wife, a great wife for a Snezhnayan especially. But she was not a good mother. All I had tried to explain, he had already known of, but from a completely different perspective; words convoluted, actions exaggerated - after years of hearing second-hand stories about his child, his image of me became exactly what my mother intended. Therefore, hoping and begging for his help would be redundant. I had to get away on my own two feet.

That being said, I still needed outside help and financial freedom. I made acquaintances amongst my peers, though being taken into a circle of Snezhnayan kids was a difficult task; due to my family’s high standing and my mother’s foreignity, I was either avoided or sneered at. No one dared say much, but those that did were not speaking in welcome. The odds would be stately against my success, if it were not for my observance. Most children were homeschooled and the only way to meet others my age was at a very occasional party or in organised training. There were certain aspects that I saw were well accepted in their eyes; strength, resilience, beauty and charm. I trained in strength, my mind forced resilience, the beauty and charm part could be subsistuted by wealth and social standing. It should have worked. Unfortunately, I did not consider my gender.

After beating a boy twice my size in combat, I was not revered as I had previously expected. I was not suddenly accepted into a friend group, was not offered the bitter alcohol they hid under their shirts. I was a foreign girl they could not touch, could not win against. And that pissed them off. The spreading of rumours seemed like a simple childish act at first, but the way people began to view me was set in stone before they even met me, painting me as unattainable, arrogant. A sense of déjà vu made me realise that I was once again losing an exit out of this place. But I was a quick learner.

Instead of my peers at the training grounds, I looked elsewhere. Tagging along with my father under the pretense of learning his strategies, donning my most modest dresses and tint on my lips, I met the younglings of aristocracy. They recognised my situation as their own, shunned for being better than everyone else. The mindset of superiority deeply ingrained in their small heads made it laughably easy to appease them and get piles of information that I made sure to memorize. My graceful actions, soft-spoken words and dainty visuals… all crafted to fit the perfect standard of a young girl beloved by the Tsaritsa. 

Manipulation was effortless to replicate and after shedding a false tear over an acquaintance’s loss of a parent, the apprehension of the lack of my care about using others sent shudders down my spine. I hated it. I hated being forced to do the same I had been an object of. Most of all, I was horrified by how good I was at it. A secret account provided by a lovesick fool who turned out to be the son of the main manager of our biggest bank. Five sources of income through illegal trade business from Fontaine. A shy girl who wished for one good friend, the daughter of the biggest weaponry corporation, owning over fifty industrial factories in Snezhnaya alone. In less than two years, I was the biggest shareholder of two major companies. 

All I needed was a good public reason to leave and never come back - if I had run away in the middle of the night, the powerful people around me would send hundreds behind me without a second thought. The only ones who can facilely leave are the Fatui - Tsaritsa’s dogs - and, of course, her Harbingers. I have seen my fair share of Fatui, especially when I was still dealing with the mess that was the illegal trading with Fontaine’s machinery. They were soldiers, but they were also people; until you gave them enough power to be drunk on. As for the Harbingers, two of them I had met on multiple occasions; the man I had momentarily seen at Tsaritsa’s side on that balcony was presented as Dottore, or Doctor, though his unhinged expressions pointed to him being a rabid predator, not a healer. He was a shadow; never seen, but always… there. The second Harbinger was my father’s old acquaintance known by the title La Signora, or more favourably, The Fair Lady. As a visionless female aristocrat, I was expected to marry quickly and provide many future soldiers to the armies of Snezhnaya. When I was younger I did not understand the disgust and abhorrence I felt at the thought of my set future. Without dreams, I only wandered. It was not surprising that I began to look up to the notoriously powerful Signora, especially since the silver shade in our eyes was of the same empty shine. Fascinated by her bold disobedience of our land’s customs, I caught myself imitating her walk; young and impressionable, sure, but I also knew that without a Vision, I would never be able to stride as freely as she could. 

That is why I spent so much energy and time on getting Mora. In complete honesty, I could have left Snezhnaya a year into my socialisation. In only a few months, I had enough financial security to start a business in the faraway Liyue which flourished past my expectations. Despite resigning myself to using others, the human mind sometimes cannot help but create bonds of affection to others and so, after the first time hearing “comrade” or the late-night conversations with a painfully vulnerable and lonely teenager, I could not help but want to stay longer, although merely subconsciously. I began finding reasons to stay; perhaps visiting Liyue to oversee my business after a scandal was not a good enough plan to leave, perhaps I should save just a bit more before I go on a long journey, what if the branch deal suddenly fails, I need to manage this project myself… The excuses piled up, my very few friendships strengthened and then, I thought; living here for the rest of my life would not be the worst. This idea was proven wrong time and time again, the glares like daggers in my back, enviness of others putting poison in my cups, the bloody display of the rare bunny I was gifted by a prominent and popular merchant, my mother’s slap at the word “Liyue” leaving my mouth.

I was woken up by news of the forgotten childhood marriage proposal being reconsidered.

“My clever girl is all grown up now!” my father spoke loudly, his fork sounding on the golden plate as the guests around him followed his proud tone with interest. Turning to his closest comrade, another one of Tsaritsa’s most trusted, he spoke as if confiding a secret though all invitees could hear him clearly: “Nobody is ever going to be good enough for my dove, but I’m considering accepting that proposal. They’d make a good match, both of their heads full of coins.”

Booming laughter ensued as my smile froze on my lips. He had never discussed this with me beforehand, so why now?

As if he had read my thoughts, Father’s eyes found mine, his bright and naive, sure that I would simply go with it as I had with everything until now. I decided to keep the illusion intact and made myself smile wider. 

“Girlie that plays with coins, hah! If that’s what he needs to tie him down, I’d get on my knees myself,” the other man spoke, raising his glass towards me and eliciting another round of hollers. 

Not one to stay quiet in rage, I spoke with a light, pretty tone: “Sorry to say this old man, but I’d prefer for the man to kneel down for my hand himself. Your legs might just give out from how long you’d have to be begging on the ground for him.”

The hidden jab of my not even knowing who the man proposing was went past their ears.

“As expected!” the man yelled over the ear-wrenching laughter, slapping my grinning father on the back, while another man, whom I recognised as my only female friend’s absentee parent, spoke up; “She’s really your kid, through and through. Shame you didn’t make a boy, too, with that spunk he’d be one of Tsaritsa’s best warriors by now.”

“No kid of mine would be any good as a soldier,” Father countered, the alcohol in his glass disappearing. “Us Silvers use our heads.”

After he playfully headbutts his comrade, the conversation moves elsewhere and I take my leave. Again, I find myself on the balcony, heaving deep breaths, desperately trying to calm my racing pulse. Vaguely, I think about my wild expression and how others would react if they chanced upon me at this moment, but my unbearable fear does not allow for a stoic attitude. 

Ah, right, I wanted to run away.

It is needless to say that I got my plans in order just that night.

I only let my closest friends know of the finality of my departure, sent a personal letter to the Tsaritsa and prepared an entourage of people who wanted to permanently leave Snezhnaya as well.

Tsaritsa’s reply was swift and curt; a permit to leave for business. There was not any mention of a permit to return, but that was exactly what I had been looking for.

I mentioned my journey East to my parents at a rare shared dinner, as if passing news. My mother would have dragged me by my hair if we had been alone; having my father present was imperative. With my mother’s forced silence, I explained that, due to the scandal - which I had painstakingly created myself - I wanted to take charge of the business in Liyue Harbour for three months until I found a capable enough manager to take over the decision-making.

“It is unsavory for women to make the main decisions in a business,” I sighed, massaging the side of my head as if troubled by this gravely. My father nodded, sympathetically, while my mother coldly glared at my theatrics. It was not her that I needed to convince, anyway; she would follow whatever her husband decided. Holding Father’s hand, a physical contact of seldom, I continued: “I want to get this over with quickly, that is why I am going myself. After all, the marriage should not be put off for too long, should it? You told me a few days ago that you wanted a grandson, after all.”

I left three days after that.

The tearful farewells were done in secret, only polite nods were given in the public eye. More people have come to bid me a good journey than I would have expected, my ties reaching further than those of the usual Snezhnayan. I decided to speed up my leave before anyone else could notice.

White mountains and the creaking of snow beneath the heavy feet slowly turned into browns and greens and sloshes of mud. We stayed the night at a guesthouse in Fontaine, the waterfalls washing away the prints of our path. I wished I could have run away immediately, but arriving at the Liyue headquarters was a necessary evil to maintain our facade; if we did not send word, it would have been no different from an escape without planning. 

The warm water felt wonderful against my cold skin, accustomed to the harsh weather of the land of Cryo. It was a few hours after sunset and only the sounds of nocturnal butterflies were present. The unchanging moon shone down, reflecting its light into the lake, its shape sometimes a copy, sometimes a caricature. 

TBA

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 66 - The Christmas Party

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 2,920

Summary: A vision reveals a disturbing secret

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Yato kept an eye on Hiyori in the week following the cursed necklace, more so whenever she had separate classes from Yukine. He took note of Hiyori’s timetable and, whilst escorting her to every class would come off as weird and stalker-y, he made sure Nora wasn’t following her when they parted.

Only in their final Potions classes on Friday did Yato feel somewhat at ease; Hiyori and Yukine right beside him, and Nora nowhere in sight. Nora, it seemed, had lost all interest in him and his friends again, but this Yato was loath to believe she wasn’t planning something.

Yato stirred honeysuckle into his cauldron mix but his thoughts were occupied as he watched Madame Kofuku glide around the tables at the front of the class. The sight of her brought guilty thoughts of not searching for the horcruxes all week, too preoccupied and brimming with worry and anger to try and subject himself to the Sorcerer’s mind games.

Yato made a silent promise to start again tonight as the final bell rang out and they left the class.

Thought Yato expected Madame Kofuku – or even Professor Tenjin – to pull him up on a lack of horcrux-finding at the end of the day, he nor Yukine or Hiyori expected three invitations to arrive in the post the following morning.

You are cordially invited to a Christmas party hosted by Madame Kofuku. December the 20th at 8PM. The party will be held in M. Kofuku’s office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

“That’s today!” Yukine grumbled. He flipped the navy envelope over in his hand and sighed. “Couldn’t she have given us more notice? We’re meant to be going home tomorrow.”

Yato shrugged, unfazed. It wouldn’t be a big event, no need to get dressed up, but it seemed from Yukine’s and Hiyori’s looks that weren’t the case.

It seemed that, when Yato saw Bishamon and Kazuma holding identical invites, it would be an intimate affair of Madame Kofuku’s favourite students, all of which were members of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Madame Kofuku did this a few years ago,” Kazuma explained. He and the other invitees had taken up residency in the library, tucked away in the back away from the few students who used their weekends to hole up in the library to study. “She thought it would be a good idea until someone spiked the punch and they’d all made a mess of the infirmary.”

Yukine snorted at the idea, propped in his usual window seat, hand resting his chin. Chilled winter sunlight broke through the lattice window behind him. “Sounds like a job for me and Yato.”

Yato, leaning on the wall beside Yukine with his arms folded, shared a conspirator’s smile with Yukine and a glint in his eye that hinted at trouble.

“Absolutely not,” Bishamon cut in before Yato could join the plot. “Madame Kofuku has invited us, so we will be perfect guests, lest Professor Tenjin bans parties altogether.”

Yato rolled his eyes with a tut before his gaze landed on Hiyori, the only person on the table facing him. He winked with an impish grin, unexpected and making her heart flip. She hoped no one noticed her cheeks warm as he looked away, and it seemed they hadn’t as Bishamon’s attention was on Kazuma.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been to a party,” Bishamon said.

Kazuma nodded in mute agreement. “The Yule Ball.”

There was a beat of silence as they recalled the winter night, nearly two years ago now yet feeling like a lifetime had passed.

“Do you think it’s a black-tie event?” Yato asked nobody.

Bishamon snorted as if he’d asked who’d won that year's Quidditch World Cup. To be honest, Yato probably didn’t know the answer to that either. “Just don’t show up in that.”

Yato looked down at himself, offended. He was wearing the jacket and trousers Sakura had given him, with one of his older, greyer white shirts. He glanced back up at her and spread his arms out. “You mean I can’t wear a three-day-old tracksuit to a party?”

Bishamon made a face of disgust and rose to her feet, her chair scraping behind her. “That explains the smell. Just wear something nice. See you at the party.”

Hiyori gave Bishamon and Kazuma a small wave as they meandered through the bookcases and out of sight, hand in hand, and sighed.

“I should get going too,” Hiyori said. She pushed her chair out more quietly than Bishamon did. “I promised Aimi and Yama that we would do homework together before we go home.”

“It’s Christmas, we don’t have homework,” Yato protested.

“Yes, we do, we just don’t ignore it as you do,” Hiyori quipped back, with Yukine agreeing from behind Yato.

“I’ll see you later…” Hiyori paused and eyed Yato’s jacket and the faded white shirt that had mysterious stains down its front. “… and please, wash that tracksuit.”

Yato pouted as Hiyori turned a corner around a bookcase and disappeared from sight. He turned to Yukine. “Good thing I still have my robes here, else I would be wearing this to the party.”

Yukine grumbled in return, his arms folded over his chest and a leg dangling from his window perch. “I hope you plan on asking her out.”

The blank look on his face told Yukine that, no, Yato was not planning on asking her out. He sighed.

“It’s a party. And we’ve just been talking about the Yule Ball. Don’t you think you should at least ask to walk her there?” Yukine spelt out.

Yato scrunched his face and ignored the quickening heat rising in his chest. Was Hiyori expecting an invitation from him? Was this turning out to be a double date featuring Yukine? No, this was a party among friends.

“What do you mean, ‘ask her out’? The three of us are going together,” Yato replied. The feigned ignorance of Yukine’s implication was equally ignored.

Yukine shrugged, unfolded his arms and swung his other leg down so he could stand. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, maybe I just won’t go, or maybe I’ll be fashionably late to the party, or maybe I’ll get there early and see what I can do about the punch.”

Yato gave Yukine a warning look that went unheeded as Yukine smirked and swaggered out of the library before Yato warn – beseech – Yukine not to put him in a situation akin to his attempts at asking Hiyori to the Yule Ball.

It seemed that whatever the case, it would be Yato and Hiyori going to the party together.

~

Yukine was nowhere in sight at the allocated meeting point at the bottom of the grand staircase, and Yato cursed him for it.

He had butterflies in his stomach and felt like a fool to be waiting in his best eveningwear waiting for Hiyori to emerge on top of the staircase the same way she did at the Yule Ball. It was made worse by the curious looks of passing students, wondering why he was dressed up and why he was trying to hide by the Great Hall’s doors.

Yukine was probably already with Madame Kofuku, despite the bell tower in the courtyard signalling it was only quarter to eight and that he had another agonising fifteen minutes to wait until he could escape the gawks and whispers of younger students.

Yato made a mental note to sabotage Yukine’s next potion for standing him and Hiyori up like this, but any embarrassment Yato felt immediately melted away when a flash of colour on the stairs told him his date, no, Hiyori, had arrived…

Looking far, far more ridiculous than he felt.

Frills and a shocking shade of pink that edged on purple quickly blurred towards him, and through Yato’s wheezed laugh he heard Hiyori say something that he couldn’t quite catch.

“Hey look, it’s the sugar plum fairy,” Yato wheezed as Hiyori stomped up to him with a pout that could put Yukine to shame. He wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye and took in Hiyori’s outfit. Not even the bow on the back of the dress could save her from looking like a questionable, trussed up dessert.

“I. Look. Ridiculous!” Hiyori seethed. She pulled Yato closer to the Great Hall’s door alcove in a bid to hide between him and the door.

Hiyori knew she should’ve packed her own suitcase, or even added a simple dress herself, but her mother’s insistence on ‘how pretty’ the dress was had worn her down. The harmless thought she had was that she wouldn’t have a reason to wear it was proving to be a fatal mistake. She didn’t even have the chance to find a new one in Hogsmeade after a laborious afternoon of Christmas homework.

Yato tried to fight his growing grin and looked at the floor, noticing Hiyori’s pumps which, unfortunately, matched her dress. A flash of a gold bracelet on her wrist snagged his attention when he looked up again, and in a heartbeat, he knew it was the same one he had given her at the Yule Ball.

“It’s not that bad,” Yato lied once he’d composed himself enough to stop himself from doubling over again.

The look Hiyori gave him was enough to silence any more complements or jibes, instead, provoking him to offer a solution to her problem. “Want me to fix it?”

“How?!” Hiyori voice was nearly a wail, the prospect of having to walk through the castle and into the party wearing a monstrosity so bad that she was ready to turn heel and go back to her room.

“Just stay still.”

Yato pulled his wand from the folds of his pocket and aimed at Hiyori, chanting a spell she didn’t recognise yet enveloped her in a shimmer of white that transcended to her dress. The frills flattened into the skirt and the colour faded into a muted pink that was akin to her Yule Ball dress.

Hiyori stared down at herself, mesmerised, whilst Yato concealed his wand once more and offered her his arm, fighting the blush that crept onto his cheeks at the fact Hiyori was gaping at him.

“Shall we?” Yato asked, and Hiyori’s mouth snapped shut. She looked down the corridor that led to the Hufflepuff dorms.

“No Yukine?”

“I think he’s abandoned us for canapes.”

“Smart move.”

“You should know something though, Cinderella.”

Hiyori looked at Hiyori in confusion, her arm in his and her hand placed atop, waiting to be taken to the ball. “What?”

Yato grinned. “The magic wears off at midnight.”

~

Hiyori was in bed way before midnight, but Yato lay awake staring into the darkness as the bell outside announced that he’d been laying in bed for two hours.

Perhaps his mind was replaying the night's events too frequently for him to fall into a dreamless sleep, but he invited the new memories as they flittered across his eyelids; Yukine’s shit-eating grin when Yato and Hiyori arrived together, closely followed by Bishamon and Kazuma. The suspicious look Bishamon gave Yukine as Madame Kofuku served watery punch with their late dinner. Walking Hiyori back to her dorm and bidding her goodnight as he did two years ago. Yukine’s wink as he watched them go.

Yato’s mind flicked back to the brief conversation about horcruxes, which has made him nearly choke on his food in a panic. Madame Kofuku had only informed Kazuma and Bishamon that that Professor Tenjin was now working with them, and what Yato’s role was now that he may be able to find the horcruxes himself. Bishamon looked wary, but there was a hint of recognition for what he was putting himself through. Even Kazuma raised a glass in thanks, making for a hasty toast to his success.

Yato rolled onto his front with a sigh, as he remembered the rest of the night again. Yukine’s insinuating wink, his insistence that he ask Hiyori to the party, and the fact he planned for the two to arrive and leave together. Yukine’s matchmaking wasn’t a distraction he wanted when he felt fool enough around Hiyori; not when those feelings may not be reciprocated.

Thankfully, he didn’t get a disappointed look when he told Madame Kofuku that he hadn’t found anything yet, omitting the fact that he hadn’t even been looking. But the flicker of Madame Kofuku’s eyes between him and Hiyori and the slightest of smiles told him that she knew the truth.

Yato sighed and buried his face his pillow. He needed to find answers.

He willed his mind to stop replaying every moment of the night until blackness rolled across his eyelids, not realising he’d fallen into a listless doze that dragged him deeper with every breath.

~

Yato found himself in Professor Tenjin’s office, but the headmaster was not in his usual place in his seat. His senses dulled to the crackle of a lit fireplace beside the large sunlit window and to the musty smell of decaying books that covered the walls in an array of faded fabric coverings. Fawkes, too, seemed to be missing.

The line between dream and vision was thin, but the fact that Yato was in his own body and was within Hogwarts, it seemed that he erred into dreams rather than reality.

Yato stepped towards the table, and though a niggling at the back of his head told him he shouldn’t, he looked over the rolls of parchment spread across the table. Yato frowned as he read through the scrolls, loopy black ink blurring and not entirely making sense, yet he could tell that these scrolls were restricted with knowledge of the Dark Arts.

His eyes danced across each scroll, to the inkpot and the large, ornate phoenix feather quill tucked inside of it. A glitter of silver caught his eye beside the inkpot, nearly tucked out of sight underneath a scroll aside from the tell-tale chain which beckoned him to pick it up.

Yato pinched the chain and gently pulled, trying to be quiet despite no one being there to hear him. He felt a heavy weight at the end of the chain dragging against the oaken table, rustling the parchment out of the way until it was free and dangling at the end of his fingertips. A polished black stone reflected his confusion back at him, inset in silver and begging him to open the clasp and reveal its secret.

The secret contained in Sakura’s locket.

~

“How would Sakura’s locket be in Professor Tenjin’s office?”

Yukine’s question hung over them as Yato slammed the compartment door shut behind him. They were cocooned in the Hogwarts Express with the sound of whizzbangs and screams outside as they set off back home for the Christmas break. He shut the blinds so they had some semblance of privacy.

“I don’t know. I don’t know when that vision was – if it was recent or a long time ago – but it was the same locket that I saw in Grimmuald Place,” Yato replied. He flopped onto the worn cushioned bench beside Hiyori and stretched his legs out until they kicked the opposite bench.

“Maybe he gave it to her years ago,” Hiyori suggested. “She was his student. Or it could’ve been her parents from when they were in the Order.”

“Or they’re just pieces of jewellery,” Yukine added.

Yato shook his head. “No. It’s like, its calling to me, and…” He knew that he’d seen the locket before. In Hogwarts. “I think I saw the locket in Professor Tenjin’s office, the day when Hiyori got cursed.”

Yukine and Hiyori exchanged a look at each other and then at Yato. So it was recent.

“How can he have it if it’s locked up in Grimmauld Place?” Yukine probed.

“I don’t know.” Yato pushed a hand through his hair. The phrase was driving him mad. ‘I don’t know’. He should know. He should have asked Sakura the first time he found it; asked what it was, asked why the clasp was stuck.

“I told Madame Kofuku as soon as I had the vision,” Yato continued. “She thinks it might be a horcrux, but why would Professor Tenjin hide it from us?”

“Maybe it’s not a horcrux,” Yukine supplied.

“It must be,” Yato shook his head again. “That’s what the vision showed me, and somehow Professor Tenjin knew about the locket and took it.”

It was impossible, what with all the charms and protections on Grimmauld Place, but the headmaster had used it himself as a headquarters in the First Wizarding War. He probably knew the house like the back of his hand.

“If it is, then we don’t really know what Professor Tenjin is doing with it…” Hiyori trailed off.

The insinuation hung over them. They were no strangers to teachers being Deatheaters, but the headmaster? After being hunted by the Ministry and other Deatheaters?

No. It was an impossibility. There would be a reason for why a horcrux had ended up in the headmaster’s hands.

Yato shook his head silently and looked out the window as the train rumbled to life and began to pull out of Hogsmeade’s snow-covered hills, lost in thought.

He refused to believe that Professor Tenjin – a kindly old man who kept him straight in his unruly years, who believed him when the Sorcerer returned, who took the blame for him when the Order of the Phoenix was discovered – was a Deatheater.

[i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle]

Chapter 18: The Royal Ball, Part 6 - Sweetie Belle’s Performance

While their much older friends and/or family are having their fun, the Cutie Mark Crusaders have had a table for themselves where they’ve been playing together and enjoying the performances that have shown up thus far themselves. Clapping for Trixie’s show, getting some good laughs from Autumn’s Puppet Show, and Sweetie Belle in particular enjoying Coloratura singing The Magic Inside again. 

They continue to have some banter between them, until they’re joined by a family member of Apple Bloom and former fellow cutie mark crusader, Babs Seed. Who eventually found her talent in being a barber in Manehattan and is currently under the tutelage under of one of the most famous hair stylists in Manehattan. While she was here, she thought she’d visit her cousin and her friends for a little bit

Babs Seed: Hey there, Apple Bloom! How’s my cuz, doin’?

Apple Bloom: Oh hey Babs! Nice t’ see ya! Ya’ll still having ah nice time at that barber shop ya work fo’?

Babs: Yeah! I get chosen whenever somepony wants a cool haircut, such as mohawks or the different kinds of punk-style haircuts

Scootaloo: Niicceeee! Maybe I should get one of your hairstyles sometime, Babs!

Babs: Haha, I’d love to have a hoof at styling your hair in cool ways some day, Scoots.

Sweetie: I may need your services sometime too, Babs. I’ve gotten into singing metal, could be useful for such performances.

Babs: Awww yeah! That would be pretty nice too, Sweetie. I have been wondering how you’ve all been. Been up to anything lately? Maybe tell me how you all were invited here?

Apple Bloom: Sure thing! Ah was mah sister’s first invite when she got t’ the farm, then ah would go t’ get inviting Zecora here as mah sister invited others in our family, as well as Rara and Autumn.

Babs: Yeah, thanks to ya sister we got some pretty awesome, and funny in the case of Autumn Blaze, performances tonight! Though I also kind of got to thank her for inviting Rara for another reason, as in turn she’d bring me. I was taking care of Photo Finish’s mane at the time Applejack was there in Manehattan so I couldn’t quite come across her. Anything else happen though, Apple Bloom?

Apple Bloom: Well.. all that’s left is sort o’ sad, Ah must warn ya. But what ah did next was try t’ see if Grand Pear was available t’ go, he didn’t end up goin’ but we’d find him visiting the graves o’ mah late parents…

Babs: Oh… yea… visiting the graves of dead beloved relatives is always a bummer… I hope this ball is making ya feel better though.

Apple Bloom: It is, yeah.

Babs: How about you, Scoots? Whatcha been up to?

Scootaloo: Hm, it has been a while since we last saw eachother hasn’t it?

Babs: Well, I was at the party ya held that ya girls held to try to convince ya parents to let you stay in Ponyville. But I suppose I haven’t been made too aware of what ya’ve done in a little more then 2 years.

Scootaloo: Is that so? Then I guess you’re not quite very are of… this!

Scootaloo shifts her body from the waist down into her seapony tail in front of Babs, and bends it in a way that would be impossible to bend hooves in to prove it’s a real fish-like tail. Scootaloo now sitting with her sea pony tail dangling down from the side of her chair.

Babs: WHOA! Ya can turn half-fish?! Just like the hippogriffs with their necklaces, but ya don’t have a necklace! How are ya doing it?

Scootaloo: A wish from Twilight, really. But there’s more to this then just that, I’ve been training myself to use this form and get even better at swimming. And just two weeks ago? I was able to convince Spitfire and the Wonderbolts to make a new branch called the Waterbolts! I can’t join yet despite helping start it, but they got decent number of good swimmers from Mount Aeris/Seaquestria to get it started. Along with some of the best fliers there too who will try to become proper Wonderbolts in the near future.

Babs: That’s awesome! Dang Scoots, ya’ve made history!

Scootaloo: Just wait till’ I’m all grown up and I’m the fastest swimmer on the planet! That will be the real kind of history I want to make!

Babs: Yeah! That’ll be a sight to see one day, ya could even do a show in the Manehattan Bay! See how fast it takes for ya to do 20 laps around The Statue of Friendship!

Scootaloo: Yeah! Exactly! It’s gonna be awesome!

Scootaloo transforms back to her pony form

Babs: Now how about you, Sweetie. You mentioned you found out you’re a bit of a metal singer. Mind explaining that?

Sweetie: Of course! After being invited by my sister, we would eventually get to Vinyl Scratch and Octavia’s house to invite them. I decided I’d stay with them a little bit as Rarity got her invitees. I decided to give their karaoke machine a try, and picked a few songs I wanted to sing for them. All of the ones I chose were some level of Metal/Hard Rock. And I guess I did great, as I left them impressed to the point that they actually want me to sing another song here at the ball just to show my voice.

Babs: No way, you’re going to be performing?! When?

Sweetie: Well either me or Cheese Sandwich is next. As soon as Octavia and Vinyl Scratch are called, I’m going to need to head over to see them to get ready.

Babs: So ya plan on rocking the palace in a little bit?

Sweetie: Weellllll the song I chose for the ball isn’t going to be a super intense song, it’s still made by a band that generally does metal, but it’ll be one of their softer ones. I decided I would try to make my first ever solo appearance in front of an audience with something intent on evoking emotions rather then a bang your head kind of tune.

Babs: Yeah, that’s probably respectable. What’s the song?

Sweetie: Mother’s Soul from Stalliondust

Babs: Oooooh, that is a good one. Can’t wait to hear your singing voice, Sweetie. Ya obviously have a talent in music going by your cutie mark, so this will be great to see!

Apple Bloom: Ooo! Ah think ah see the palace staffer walking t’ the stage t’ announce the next performance!

Indeed, as Apple Bloom noticed the palace staffer once again goes up to the stage as the audience once again quiets down to let him speak.

Palace Staffer: Thank you, thank you. Our next performance includes backing instruments from Octavia and Vinyl Scratch. Who will joined by a young rookie singer by the name of Sweetie Belle, showing off her singing talent for the first time solo in front of a big crowd!

This intrigued many in the audience who were aware of Vinyl Scratch and Octavia but have never met Sweetie. Though for those who do know Sweetie, loud cheers could be heard. Especially from her sister and her parents.

Sweetie: Oh my gosh! I’m next!. Seeya soon Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Babs! I need to get ready!

Scootaloo: Good luck, Sweetie!

Apple Bloom: Ya’ll do great! We know ya will!

((Story continues after the break))

Sweetie Belle quickly hops off her chair and rushes to wherever she can find Vinyl Scratch and Octavia. Eventually, she just manages to get to them before they were starting to walk behind the curtains on stage.

Sweetie: Hey! Vinyl! Octavia! I’m here!

Octavia: Hello, Sweetie Belle. Are you ready to debut your singing talent for the world to know?

Sweetie: Yes… I’m no longer shy about my singing. It’s time I finally put my front hoof forward.

Vinyl Scratch nods, and gives Sweetie an approving grin.

Octavia: That’s good to hear. By the way, you picked a great song. I know it’s not quite as intense as some of the ones you sang for us, but it may be a song that’s soft enough to endear your voice. And even if they’re surprised that you end up doing mostly more intense songs that aren’t to everypony’s taste, they can respect the range of your voice.

Sweetie: Thanks, Octavia

With that the 2 musicians, and the little aspiring singer all head backstage to take their places. Vinyl provides the machine that will play an instrumental of the song Sweetie sings, and Octavia provides a little extra symphonic metal elements into Sweetie’s choice of song. And of course, Sweetie on her own in the middle of the stage with a microphone. Soon, the curtain starts raising and the audience can see the three on stage. Claps are heard for the performance’s start.

Rarity: Good luck, Sweetie darling!

Sweetie smiles hearing the voice of her sister and takes a few heavy breaths. Before the song begins to play. Octavia already playing her instrument.

Mother’s Soul by Stalliondust ((To the tune of Angel’s Son by Sevendust))

Sweetie: Life is changing… annnnd…

I can’t… goooo on… withouuuut you…

Rearranging, annnnd… I will be strong!

I’ll stand byyyyyy you…

You were fighting… everyday…

Soooo hard to hide the pain…

I know you never said goodbye…

I had so much left to saaaaay…

(Sweetie puts her mouth closer to the mic to sing the first use of the chorus more quietly)

One last sooooong…

Given to a mother’s soooul…

As soon as you were gooone…

As soon as you were gooooone…

(Sweetie puts her mouth back from the mic, and starts to pick up the intensity as the song itself does)

I have a new life now…

I live through you!

What can I do?!

I feel so alone now…

I pray for you!

We still looove yooou!

You were fighting… everyday…

So hard to hide the pain…

I know you never said goodbye…

I had so much left to saaaaaaay…!

(The song picks up to it’s highest intensity)

One last soooong!

Given to a mother’s sooooooul!

As soon as you were goooone!

As soon as you were goooooone! Ooooh!

One last soooong! Ooooh!

I can’t believe, you’re gone!

Given to a mother’s sooooooul!

Iiiiii can’t beliiiieve!

As soon as you were gooone!

As soon as you were… gooone a ohhh a ohhh a

The song finishes, many of the audience’s mouth agape from Sweetie’s cover of the song. Soon claps are heard and they start spreading across the crowd until the entire crowd claps and starts cheering for the young singer. Not all were necessarily clapping, but that’s because instead they were emotionally moved by the lyrics for one reason or another. Many of the members of the M.I.L.F. club among them, being this is a song dedicated to a deceased mother, anyone in the audience who has a deceased parent, especially Applejack who took the lyrics to heart and is already wiping tears from her eyes. Starlight was still next to her, and is patting her on the back.

Applejack: *sniff* Such a-ah  b-b-beautiful s-so-song… *sob* W-w-well done, S-s-sweetie B-belle… *sniff*

Starlight herself also tears up a bit from the song since while it’s known this is for a deceased mother. The lyrics could still somewhat apply to a missing one, and she still can’t rule out the possibility that her mother is dead anyway.

Sweetie Belle walks off the stage and is immediately approached by her sister and her fellow crusaders.

Rarity: That was amazing, Sweetie! You really gave the crowd a show!

Apple Bloom: We knew ya’ll would ace this!

Scootaloo: Yeaaaah! You rocked it!

Suddenly, another pony comes to approach Sweetie Belle. It’s Coloratura herself quite impressed with Sweetie’s talent.

Rara: That was a top-notch performance, Sweetie. you have a voice that I think the whole world will want to hear. In fact, if you ever feel like you’re ready to start making record deal. My place can be open to you some day, and I’ll be your sort of manager.

Sweetie: Wait.. you… as my manager?!

Rara: Not immediately of course, I think you still have a little bit of your childhood to have before you do. But say when you think you’re ready to start selling records in your teenage years or older.

Scootaloo: Kinda like just how it will still be a few years until I’m ready to become a trainee for the Waterbolts!

Sweetie: My gosh, Coloratura… this is such an honor… even if this is still some years away… you have no idea how happy I am that you recognize my talent… Even if we’re kinda getting into different genres. You’re mainly a pop singer right?

Rara: That’s true, but because I’m a pop singer doesn’t mean I can’t manage other types of singers. I started self-managing ever since I kicked Sven Gallop out, and I felt as I got comfortable I’d eventually get to helping other singers find a footing. And I’ll be a nicer manager then Sven ever will be.

Sweetie: Well then, yes! Of course I’d love you to be my manager when I’m ready to start my music career in full!

Rara: On a side note, I know the stallion who wrote the song you sang. He unfortunately lost his mother to an illness, and that song was dedicated to her. And he would of loved to hear your cover of the song. Perhaps some day, you’ll get to perform your cover again while he’s in the audience.

Sweetie: Yeah… I figured the song was about a deceased mother. But nice of you to tell me the real story behind the song’s making. And that would be cool to have the actual band’s writer and lead singer listen to my cover! But if it’s ok, I think I’d like to return to my table with my friends, I still very much appreciate reserving a spot for me at your studios. So thank you, Coloratura.

Rara: No problem, Sweetie. I can’t wait to see what comes next for your music career.

Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo return to the table they were sitting. Many tables they’re passing by with strangers waving to the young Sweetie, as it seems she’s made a decent amount of fans already. Babs Seed is still at the table and sees the group approach.

Babs: Great singing, Sweetie Belle! Ya did great up there.

Sweetie: Thank you very much, Babs!

Once they’re seated, they don’t get much time before another pony approaches. Though it’s a pony the Crusaders are very fond of: Cheerilee, their school teacher.

Cheerilee: Hello, Cutie Mark Crusaders!

Apple Bloom: Miss Cheerilee!

Scootaloo; Hiya!

Sweetie: I’m so happy to see you’re here!

Cheerilee: I’ve been having a pretty good time here, thanks for thinking of inviting me Sweetie. And also… you did a great job out there on stage. I’m very proud of you, Sweetie. I know one day you will make it big in the music industry.

Sweetie: Thank you!

Cheerilee: Also, I want to talk to Scootaloo a little bit

Scootaloo: Oh no.. am I in trouble for something?

Cheerilee: No, not at all. I just want to congratulate you on starting up the Waterbolts!

Scootaloo: Huh? How’d you find out about that? I don’t think I told you yet.

Cheerilee: Me and Spitfire are actually good friends! While talking to her, she told me all about what you did in Mount Aeris/Seaquestria

Scootaloo: Oh nice! I can’t join it myself yet, but you bet I’m going to continue to swim as much as I can until then!

Cheerilee: I’ve seen you swim sometimes in Saddle Lake, the School of Friendship’s moat, and the rivers in town! You are really fast in the water! You’ll no doubt be a star, once you’re old enough to get in the Waterbolts.

Scootaloo: Thank you, Miss Cheerilee!

Cheerilee: And now Apple Bloom, mind if I ask if you have any idea where your big brother is?

Apple Bloom: Big Mac? Ah think he’s on a table with his wife, Sugar Belle.

Cheerilee: Ah, of course. They are certainly a cute couple.

Sweetie: You’re not going to fight with Sugar Belle... Are you?

Cheerilee: What? Why would I fig- Oooooooh, do you still think I have romantic interest in Big Mac? We were just friends, granted, we were only acquaintances until your love potion shenanigans.

Sweetie: Well… you did still say one of the names you called him while under the effects of the potion, after you were cured.

Cheerilee: Oh hahahaha, me and Big Mac just decided to prank you girls at that moment.

Apple Bloom: Ah think only Sweetie really thought ya had feelings for him. Ah’d know if ya’ll were together after that Love Potion incident.

Scootaloo: Yeah, you fooled me with that prank at first, but over time it probably would of been more clear if you really did become special someponies for real at some point.

Cheerilee: Then I guess Sweetie Belle must be slightly holding on to a ship she once had for me. I remember when you were upset that I didn’t kiss Big Mac, and you popped out of the bush yelling “OH COME ON” *giggles*

Sweetie: Nuh uh… I tried to help Big Mac get with Sugar Belle too! Though… it is still a shame that you still don’t have a special somepony.

Cheerilee: Well, what if I told you why you never did that Hearts and Hooves Day so long ago? Besides the fact that love potions override everything in a pony’s mind order to hypnotize ponies into loving eachother and won’t necessarily make it likelier that the two ponies become special someponies after being cured.

Cheerilee moves on closer in order to whisper, and the 3 hold up their ears to hear.

Cheerilee: I’m not into stallions at all, I’m into mares. You had the wrong orientation the whole time!

Scootaloo: Oh! Oh! Oh! Just like my Aunts!

Apple Bloom: Lyra & Bon Bon too!

Sweetie: Oooooooooh, I see. Well… I’ll guess I’ll have to rearrange some things at home later then. Hehehehe…

Scootaloo: *rolls her eyes* Great, now she’s going to spend a whole night shuffling her shipping chart…

Cheerilee giggles

Cheerilee: Anyhow, I guess I won’t bother Big Mac just yet, if he’s on a little bit of a honeymoon with Sugar Belle. I can always see him later.

Apple Bloom: What did ya even want t’ see him fo’?

Cheerilee: Nothing all that special, just if I can ask him if he can reserve some Sweet Apple Acres apples sometime when we get back.

Apple Bloom: Ya’ll could o’ asked me that

Cheerilee: Yeah but I wanted a lot of apples, enough that it’d be hard for you to carry all by yourself

Scootaloo: Whatcha going to do with all those apples?

Cheerilee: Just stock back up many, many jars of applesauce back home. And maybe save some for slices and/or eating them normally.

Apple Bloom: Well, even if ya don’t get Big Mac at some point later. Me and Applejack can probably get ya what ya want.

Cheerilee: True, I suppose. I guess I’ll just get back to the table I was sitting at for now, who knows when that final performance is going to start after all.

Sweetie: All that’s left is Cheese Sandwich before the night finishes with some dancing. So yeah! What ever is left of the ball should be quite fun, though it almost certainly means this ball is nearly over.

Scootaloo: It’s been a pretty fun night! All parties come to an end eventually, but they saved some cool stuff for last with one of the best party ponies around, and then we’ll all get to dance!

Apple Bloom: Ah guess seeya, Miss Cheerilee! Thank ya’ll for being such ah great teacher fo’ us. Mind if we get ah hug from ya before ya go?

Cheerilee: Oh of course I will, anything for 3 of my favorite students!

Cheerilee lowers herself to the ground by sitting on the floor and hugs around the 3 fillies. And then head back to her table.

Meanwhile, back at the table of the M.I.L.F. club, Twilight’s had enough fun talking with the other mothers and getting Trixie’s mom to be a member too (Stellar Flare was chosen to make Dandy Lion recite the club’s oath)

Twilight: Well this was a lot of fun, all of you. But I think I’m going to head elsewhere now, if I don’t see any of you the rest of the night. Hope you had a wonderful time here

Windy: We absolutely have! And no problem, Princess!

Velvet: Of course, dear. You have a fantastic rest of the night!

Twilight walks off waving to all the other mothers and once Twilight’s far enough, they continue their family gossiping. Twilight herself ponders where to go next, and realizes she still hasn’t seen Celestia and Luna here. And she figured it was going to be important to inform Celestia of her plan with Spike and Malakhar to visit the spot where Spike’s birth mother died. She eventually finds the two Alicorn sisters on their own table and heads on over to where they’re sitting. Celestia sees Twilight approach and smiles.

Celestia: Hello, Princess Twilight. Thank you for inviting us, it’s been a fantastic time. And a decent amount of great performances.

Luna: I never knew Sweetie Belle had such a beautiful singing voice. That was wonderful to hear

Twilight: You’re welcome both of you, and yeah, Sweetie’s going to be a fantastic musician one day. Thee’s no doubt about that, after that performance. But I actually went to see you because I have something important to ask of you for tomorrow morning, Princess Celestia

Celestia: Oh? Do tell what it is.

Twilight: Remember when you told me the story about where you got Spike’s egg and where his birth mother died? I told the story to Spike 2 weeks ago, and he said at one point he wants to visit that cave the day after the ball. And I thought I’d ask you to be there since you could likely help show where it was. I guess it turns out Malakhar was also there at the time, and I may have him accompany us as well to give directions, but I still wanted to ask if you could still help us if we went to you in the morning to go see it.

Celestia: I’d be happy to lead you to the cave, and oh? Malakhar was there too? Interesting, he must of been the teenage colt that handed me the egg back then. He did look familiar when I saw him, but he’s certainly a lot bigger then he was then. Does Spike perhaps wish to have a moment of silence to mourn his birth mother?

Twilight: Well, probably not quite on the same level as others. But he does want to pay his respects, especially if everything in your dream came true, she’s very much responsible for the path our lives took. Even if we can’t speak to her, it’d at least feel respectful in that way

Celestia: Completely understandable, I along with Malakhar will take you and Spike to the cave in the morning. But first, how has your night gone? Any interesting things happen for you?

Twilight: Besides enjoying the performances, I guess the night started with me and my friends telling each other what happened in our individual inviting trips. Including myself telling most of what you told me about Spike’s egg and Sunset Shimmer to my friends. But after that, I met up with my Canterlot friends. And sometime during all that, the Prince of Saddle Arabia, Theandri the 2nd surprised Moondancer as we were talking. And absolutely swept her off her hooves, kinda literally. They’re currently still on their first date as of this very moment.

Celestia: Awwwww, that’s so adorable!

Twilight: Though that’s not even the only thing about this, at some point… Moondancer called me to head on over where they were… and weirdly enough in a plan the Prince told Moondancer to do… Moondancer confessed… that she had a crush on me as far back as when we were teens.

I didn’t even know she was Bisexual, I guess that was because she still mostly preferred looking for stallions. But I guess I became an exception, it somewhat makes me feel even more bad for not even saying goodbye before you sent me to Ponyville. I think Moondancer understands that saving the world, and freeing your sister was in the grand scheme of things more important then her party, but it nonetheless hurt her pretty bad since she had planned of finally gathering the courage to tell me. I likely only would of said I don’t feel the same way, but because I didn’t go at all. A part of her never really got an answer, so she had to know what I would of said, so she could completely move on.

Celestia: Wow… If only I had known that long ago, even if the result would have been the same… that you don’t have the same feelings for her… Moondancer was still one of the students at my school, I would of gladly personally given her the chance when there was time after Luna was freed. No pony’s heart should be left with an unanswered heart for a decade

Twilight: But at least she now has the Prince. I can already tell they’ll be a close couple, Theandri II risked giving up Moondancer if hypothetically I wanted a relationship with her now, and Moondancer felt like she preferred to satisfy her long-lasting feelings towards me. An act of kindness that no doubt Moondancer will never forget.

Celestia: Certainly something that’s somehow heartwarming, but also a little heartbreaking at the same time. Good to see both the Moondancer and the Prince happy. I’m sure the Sultan and the Sultana are also pleased they may possibly know who becomes Sultana when they step down.

Twilight: Haha, believe me I saw them celebrating from their balcony when their son and Moondancer’s date started.

Celestia giggles

Celestia: Good for them, but now… anything else Twilight?

Twilight: Well all that’s else that happened is I met and joined a club of other mothers of Equestria that was co-founded by my own mom, and includes many of my own friend’s mothers

Celestia: Ah… that does sound quite cute, thanks for sharing how your night’s been.

Twilight: It’s pretty close to the end isn’t it? Only one more performance, then a moment to dance and then either anyone here is brought back home or they stay in the palace rooms for the wedding in 3 days.

Celestia: Indeed, but everyone’s certainly got their slice of fun here.

Twilight: It was good to talk to you once again, Princess. I think I’m going to head back to the table I was at originally to be with my friends and Spike again for the rest of the night. But I’ll see you again soon tomorrow morning to go to that cave.

Celestia: Have yourself a good rest of the night, Twilight. And yes, I shall see you in the morning.

Twilight heads out to the table she started at during the night, as the royal ball etches closer to the end.

UP NEXT: Chapter 19: The Royal Ball, Part 7 - The Taste Of Fresh Dough On The Tray

[hellowkatey]

What are Men to Rocks and Mountains? Chapter 3

Rating: T | No warning apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze

Summary: Quinlan Vos has a good Obi-Wan bullshit-meter. Satine continues her pattern of not having fun at balls. Obi-Wan is trying his best.

Read it on AO3 Here

Chapter 3: Care to Dance?

Obi-Wan sits on the bench of the training room, pouring the cool contents of his canteen down his throat. Sweat is pouring down his back from nearly twenty minutes of sustained saber practice. Somehow Quinlan Vos, his sparring partner, is still swinging his lightsaber around in various loose katas. Obi-Wan is pretty sure his energy is endless.

"You could at least act like you are tired," Obi-Wan huffs, setting down the canteen.

"Against the Jedi Code, lying is," Quin mocks Master Yoda in a surprisingly accurate voice. Obi-Wan chuckles, standing and spinning his saber around with a loose wrist to prepare to re-engage.

"What form are you practicing?" Quin asks, knowingly eyeing the opening stance of Ataru. "Or should I say, supposed to be practicing?"

"I didn't realize I was sparring with Qui-Gon."

Quin snorts. "C'mon Obi, I'll do Makashi."

"You suck at form two," Obi-Wan deadpans.

"Exactly, maybe you'll have a chance."

Begrugedly, he shifts his stance to Soresu. The stance feels unnatural after practicing Ataru so vigorously-- mostly because Qui-Gon has just begun training him in more advanced forms. He is set on mastering Ataru to catch up to his peers like Quinlan who are already experimenting with other forms. His Kiffar friend has practically mastered Ataru himself but has been working on his Djem So the last couple of weeks.

Quin tips his saber down in the Makashi opening salute. It looks out of place, a formal duel beginning done by the unconventional and infamously roguish Jedi. Quinlan immediately steps forward with less grace than is supposed to be employed with this form, but it holds power all the same. Obi-Wan accepts his defensive position and catches the saber on his own, satisfied with the ease it blocks the blade.

Quinlan is, of course, unrelenting. He twirls, quickly performing a counter move that unblocks his saber and goes for another calculated hit. The movements remind Obi-Wan of the sparring session he witnessed while with Lady Satine, and a smile appears unwillingly on his face.

"What's that stupid look on your face?" Quin prods when they lock their blades once more. The green and blue blades light up either side of his friend's face, making his eyebrow wiggle more menacing than he meant it to be.

"Not sure what you're referring to." Obi-Wan decides to throw in some acrobatics, using the Force to launch him to the other side of Quin as he is going into a backswing. It adequately catches him off guard, making him go on the defense for a moment while Obi-Wan integrates a few more aggressive attacks.

They get into a stalemate, stalking one another from a few meters apart. "Either my chest is sending you into a conniption-- which, understandable, I have been working out." Obi-Wan glances down at his friend's bare chest, rolling his eyes. Or... it's something up there," he gestures his lightsaber at Obi-Wan's head.

"The first, obviously." Quin has always been known for being difficult to clothe. Obi-Wan can still remember the way their creché master's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she walked into him cutting the sleeves off his tunic-- unsuccessfully, as he stole a practice saber from the training room to do the job and failed to realize it was in training mode. It had the cutting ability of a flashlight. Quin claims he feels restricted in clothing and prefers to wear as little as possible. Obi-Wan has gotten used to it at this point, so Quin's half-clothed state didn't even register in his mind.

"I knew it."

They fall back into step. Quin's Makashi is beginning to look suspiciously like Ataru with every passing second, and Obi-Wan is aching to return to it as well. Remaining on defense isn't nearly as fun as getting to attack. The moment he gains the upper hand, he switches back to the more aggressive form, managing to draw a rare yield from Quin. Now he looks tired.

"I'll get you next time, Obi," Quin says as Obi-Wan extends his hand to help up his friend. Quinlan walks across the training room and unties his locks from the bun he had them strapped in. They fall in neat heaps to his shoulders. "Though I still am curious, what're you thinking about?"

"It was really nothing. Your horrible Magashi form just reminded me of something amusing."

Obi-Wan ties his tunic and slips on his outer robe. Quin has already thrown on a shirt and haphazardly secured his own robes when he appears at his side.

"What kind of amusing something?"

"Is it any of your business?"

"Things that make you look like a youngling with a crush are always my business, Obi my boy."

"Youngling with a-- you're crazy, Quin." Obi-Wan throws his bag over his shoulder but Quin trails closely behind him.

"I'll ask Bant."

"Go ahead," Obi-Wan says. He hasn't really told anyone about his current mission... he isn't sure why he is keeping it fairly guarded. He has a... feeling. Obi-Wan isn't sure if it's a good or bad feeling, but the Force is different as of late and he is still trying to figure out why.

"Interesting," Quin makes a point of rubbing his chin as though he has facial hair to stroke. "You didn't even tell Bant, then? Must be not a something, but a someone."

Obi-Wan makes the horrible mistake of stopping in the middle of the hall. Quin's eyes grow wide, making his yellow facial tattoo upturn like a giant smile. He is fairly sure the hyper Kiffar may start throwing a party.

"Obi, you dirty dewback."

"Quin, please--"

"You sneaky bastard. Who?"

He sighs. He hasn't even had the chance to figure out for himself what the hell is going on with him, but what Obi-Wan does know is that he left Lady Satine's home with a fluttering in his stomach. Why? He has no idea. The entire afternoon was practically a nightmare. He was stuck in a room with three Mandalorian teenagers who made making him as uncomfortable as possible a game. The only words Lady Satine and him exchanged were laced with sarcasm and a bit of underlying displeasure with one another, so why he found himself captivated is well beyond him.

"It's-- Well I have-- There's..."

Obi-Wan's sputtering just makes Quin laugh, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll keep the secret that you have the hots for someone unspecified so long as you promise to tell me about it when you figure out how to speak again."

"It's not the hots... Blast it, nevermind," he throws his hands up in defeat and they continue back toward their respective rooms. He can feel his cheeks flush red and he just hopes any passerby assumes from Quin's disheveled appearance it's from a recent saber training encounter. 

He steps into the shared apartment of him and Qui-Gon, finding his Master sitting in the living room, strolling lazily through a datapad. Qui-Gon glances up. "Obi-Wan. How was sparring?"

Obi-Wan drops his bag and goes straight to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. "Good, Master. I beat Padawan Vos."

A hum of approval makes Obi-Wan relax, a wave of happiness blossoming through him. He drops tea bags into two mugs and carries one to Qui-Gon.

"Thank you, padawan."

Obi-Wan takes a seat across from Master Jinn, watching as the water slowly darkens with every passing moment. "Any word from Lady Satine today?" This time, Qui-Gon puts down his datapad and looks up with a look that Obi-Wan often equates with trouble. "Master, you know I hate that look."

"What look are you referring to?"

"You know the one."

"I have no idea what you could be talking about." He reaches down and picks up his mug, taking a sip despite it definitely not being done steeping. Dramatic bastard, Obi-Wan thinks, shaking his head. "I did hear from her this morning, actually."

A pause. For dramatic effect, it seems. Obi-Wan has a very strong feeling he is not going to like this. "It appears there is a fundraiser tonight that Lady Satine is to attend. We agreed it would draw too much attention for me to attend, as the invitees of the party are young politicians and leaders and I am not as young as I once was... But you--"

"Master don't tell me I have to go to another party."

"But you won't stand out among your peer group."

Obi-Wan sighs.

"Oh, and one more thing," Qui-Gon says, a sly smile crossing his lips. Okay, Obi-Wan has a really bad feeling now.

_____

The only thing that Satine can think about is how strange it all is. Strange that she is sitting here with her sister, cousin, and a Vizla boy waiting to leave for a fundraiser. Strange to see the accents on Nel's formalwear matching her gown.

They'd been spending a lot of time together the last few days. Nel is not as quiet as she initially thought him to be, and has really grown to be a pleasant companion.

He was showing her holos from Mandalore before the war. They were reveling in the good old days when suddenly Nel's eyes caught hers, and Satine realized they were sitting quite close. Close enough that his leg pressed against hers and one of his arms had found its way across the couch behind her.

Her heart raced, and she ever so slightly shifted her leg away to reduce the tension. And then his hand slid from the couch to her shoulder and she was sure she stopped breathing.

"The fundraiser," Nel said, his eyes watching her carefully. "Could I have the honor of being your date?"

She didn't think. How could she think with a man as attractive as Nel sitting so close? She just nodded, and he cocked his head to the side. He's waiting for a real answer, she realizes, and she clears her throat. "Yes, yes that would be lovely, Nel."

Then Bo-Katan came in, and though Nel didn't seem concerned with their position, Satine sprang back, severing any contact between them.

And now she sits next to Nel, his arm across the back of the couch behind her, and his accents the same blue-green color as her gown.

Bo sits across from them, outfitted in one of Satine's old dresses. It's an emerald green dress, structured through the torso and with a lightweight skirt and long billowing sleeves. She knew Bo would like it because it was a birthday gift from her father-- meaning the structured top is really a beskar chest plate, not battle-grade but enough to provide adequate protection. Leave it to Mandalore to figure out how to make elegant dresses with beskar. Satine's own gown is a newer model, instead of a chest plate the material is woven with beskar fibers. Much more flexible and can still stop a blaster shot. It's has a similar silhouette to Bo's A-line dress, but her sleeves are cinched at the wrists rather than hanging open.

Kira walks in, dressed up in her own beskar plated dress of a more simple design. "I believe the Jedi is on his way up," she says, causing Bo to roll her eyes.

"I don't understand why he has to come."

"The Chancellor was specific. I go anywhere public, I must bring a Jedi."

"I didn't realize the throne of Mandalore bowed to the Chancellor of the Republic," Bo says spitefully.

Satine lets out a frustrated huff. It's been like this all week. Things between them are fine and then suddenly she is reminded of Bo's short circuit. Anything involving the Republic, political tasks, and the Jedi seem to set her off. Satine feels like she's been walking on eggshells ever since she came.

"It's called diplomacy, sister. I meet the requests of the Chancellor and a good relationship is achieved that may be helpful one day. You must trust me. I know more about this than you."

The door opens and in walks Obi-Wan. Satine sees him and nearly double takes in surprise.

Gone are his ratty Jedi robes. Instead, he wears a dark blue formal tunic with a long dark gray outer piece that hangs down to his knees. His blue pants tuck into a pair of shined black boots. Even his hair seems to have been contained. His messy spikes now look soft and neat. The only indication that a Jedi still stands before her is the tiny braid that peeks out from behind his ear, though it is tucked away, that horrible ponytail, and the glimpse of his lightsaber strapped to a black leather belt, complete with silver accents. It's simple, modest, yet it flatters him.

Obi-Wan bows. "Good evening, Lady Satine of House Kryze, Lady Bo-Katan of House Kryze, Nel Raiko of House Vizla, and Kira Kryze of Clan Kryze," he says fluidly. Satine suspects he rehearsed it, though it rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

"Padawan Kenobi," she replies, bowing.

"Great, now we can leave," Bo says, standing and pushing past Obi-Wan. Satine shoots him an apologetic look, and Nel comes to her side.

"Ready?" he says, extending his arm out. Satine slips her arm in the crook of his elbow. When she looks up at the Jedi she realizes he looks quite uncomfortable, his eyes trained on her arm in Nel's. The realization dawns on her. He thought we were going together? She thinks back on her conversation with Obi-Wan's master. Yes, she did word it as him accompanying her...

"Padawan Kenobi, I thought you could be Kira's date for tonight. So you two could collaborate."

She glances at Kira who nods and walks next to the Jedi.

"Yes, Lady Satine, I think that is a splendid plan." He turns, mirroring Nel and holding out his arm for Kira. Satine holds back a laugh as Kira looks surprised by this gesture, but takes it nonetheless. Coincidentally, Kira's gray dress goes well with Obi-Wan's own attire.

"This should be interesting," Nel whispers as they head toward the lift.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

They arrive at the fundraiser in higher spirits than they left. To Satine's surprise, Obi-Wan was quite attentive to her cousin Kira. The entire ride he chatted with her, not about their duty as she would have expected, but just asking questions and getting to know her. From overhearing their conversation, Satine learned that Obi-Wan is also eighteen years old (but nearly nineteen), he is from Stewjon originally but considers Coruscant and the Jedi temple his home, and he and Master Jinn have been partners for five years now. How could this be the same standoffish boy she's encountered many times in the last few weeks?

With Nel and Bo engaged in their own conversation about who-knows-what, Satine began to stew. She isn't quite sure why her mood changed, but something about being treated rudely by the Jedi when he obviously is more than capable of being civil-- even pleasant!-- doesn't sit right with her.

Nel seems to notice the shift, pressing a hand into the center of her back. "You alright?"

"Of course," she says, not bothering to lessen the sharpness in her tone. Nel's arm drops. Immediate regret fills her. She reaches up and gingerly places her fingers near the crook of his elbow. He wings it out so she can slip her arm through. "Apologies. The last time I was at a large event my life was endangered."

Nel nods. She told finally him about the occurrence the day earlier. "Not to worry. I'm sure your shadows won't allow anything to happen to you," he says, glancing back at Obi-Wan and Kira. Nel leans in, his lips slightly grazing her ear. "Nor will I."

A shiver runs down her spine, followed by a blush she hopes her makeup covers.

The fundraiser is much smaller than the Senator Ball, though still as grandiose. It is a special event that Satine has genuinely enjoyed the last few years because it only invites young politicians. They raise funds for causes that affect younger generations and give the spotlight to up and coming movements. It is quite progressive and makes Satine feel at home with like-minded individuals. The banquet hall is beautiful decorated with lights and holos advertising the various causes that are being supported. One end contains gambling games where all the proceeds go to the winner's choice. The other end is a giant dance floor that is already occupied with dozens of occupants. The border is lined with various information booths with gifts and incentives to donate. She already has a few causes she is eager to learn more about.

"I think I will visit the booths first," Satine says. Nel looks down at her, his handsome face cool and neutral.

"I told Bo I would go with her to play a few rounds of sabacc. I am considered the best player among my friends."

Disappointment fills Satine. "But how will you know what cause you want to donate to if you do not learn about them?"

Nel shrugs. "Well, whoever you want to donate to, I will oblige."

She sighs. She has half a mind to directly ask him to stay with her, but she meets the eyes of Bo, who approaches them.

"I found a table where the players are quite inexperienced," Bo says with a grin. Nel detaches himself from Satine, stopping to give her a smile. His hand reaches up and grazes her cheek.

"Only for a little bit. I very much would like to have a dance with you once we get the fundraiser portion of the night out of the way."

Her chest flutters with excitement... or nervousness? dread? She isn't sure.

"Yes, I look forward to that."

He disappears into the crowd.

Satine sighs, turning to find Obi-Wan and Kira watching. She swears she sees the Jedi raise an eyebrow in the direction of Nel. Kira leaves Obi-Wan's side and joins her. "Shall we, cousin?"

They walk from booth to booth, hearing the pitches of the representatives. Once again, Obi-Wan surprises her. He follows closely behind, seemingly interested in the causes and asking a few questions between the sessions. His interest is genuine, she can tell, but his knowledge of politics seems to be lacking. She watches the way his face seems to fall when she starts talking about political procedures. He seems more interested in the idea of change rather than the process, which disappoints her. Ideas are great, but there is much that needs to be done to insight true action.

By the end of their circuit, they are spit out near the casino area. Satine looks over to see Nel and Bo still huddled around a sabacc table, piles of chips in front of them. She stares at him, hoping to catch his attention, but he doesn't look up.

"Lady Satine," she turns to see Obi-Wan with his hand out. "Would you care to dance?"

"I would," she says without hesitation. Her eyes go wide and Obi-Wan bows and turns to find a space on the dance floor. Satine leans back so she is close to Kira.

"Did I just agree to dance with Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Kira chuckles. "I daresay you find him amiable, Satine."

"Which would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity."

Kira places a hand on the back of Satine's back and gives her a gentle push forward. She sighs, catching up with Obi-Wan.

The music shifts and Satine recognizes the characteristic chords of the Sarabande, an Alderaanian partner dance. For a moment she panics that Obi-Wan is not knowledgable of this, but he lines up across from her, his stance correct for the dance.

The chords pick up, indicating the first step. Obi-Wan steps toward her, holding his hands out for her to take. She grabs them softly, and he pulls her gently toward him before they separate in half-steps.

"You know this dance," she says with a hint of surprise peeking through.

"Of course, I wouldn't have asked you to dance if I was to make a fool of myself."

She holds back a smile. They meet once again, his hand taking hers and they stand parallel to one another.

"Your clothes are... different than what I was expecting."

He glances down, suddenly seeming a little insecure. "Well, I told Master Jinn it wouldn't be appropriate to wear my robes... even my good ones as it would make me stand out. I borrowed these from another StewJoni padawan."

"So they are traditional of your home planet?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"They are nice."

He smiles, his youth suddenly returning to him. Satine hadn't realized until this moment, but what was striking her as different about Obi-Wan was how much larger he looked in these clothes. Broader. Like a young man rather than a boy in oversized robes. The attention that she usually gave to his raggedy clothes was suddenly focused on the bright blue of his eyes and the dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. I daresay you find him amiable, Satine.  Satine pushes back that comment, forcing it to not echo in her mind as it has been since they began this dance.

She glances toward the cards table and sees Nel still not paying any attention. Her mood dips. Obi-Wan spins her, allowing the quiet to fall over them.

"It is your turn to say something, Padawan Kenobi. I commented on your dancing. Now you ought to remark on the party, or the number of couples who obviously have no idea what they are doing." she says, her eyes watching two Mid-rim senators struggling to keep in step.

"Do you talk as a rule while dancing?"' His tone is light, but it jabs at her efforts to attempt to be civil with the Jedi. As he had been with Kira all night.

"No, no. I prefer to be distant and taciturn. It makes it all the more enjoyable, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan is quiet for a moment. She feels his grip on her hand slightly stiffen. The air around them suddenly changes. She can feel the tension build, causing her cheeks to feel warm.

"Then I shall oblige, Lady Satine. I must say, I am curious. Nel Raiko is your date, is he not?"

They reach the part of the dance where she turns, so her back is to Obi-Wan, relieving her of his sudden question. She swallows hard, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as they meet again.

"He is a childhood friend and has been quite supportive and lovely as of late. So yes, he is my date this evening."

"I see he is being especially supportive tonight."

They turn so they are parallel once again and Satine is relieved he can't see the tightness in her lips. It is a low blow. A valid observation, but not one that he has any right to comment on.

"To use one's skill in sabacc to support a good cause is an excellent way of support, I would think. Not that you would know, but charity comes in many forms."

"Not that I would-- why would you say such a thing?" he says, his calm demeanor giving way to an emotion that Satine cannot identify.

"I am just making out your character, Padawan Kenobi."

"And what have you discovered?"

"Very little." They fall silent. His face is hardened and his jaw set in a way that makes him look much older than he is. Much more imposing. They are standing, staring at one another while the music progresses, trailing toward the end of the song. Thankfully the final cord is played. Both of them bow to one another. "I have observed such different sides of you in such a short time. It puzzles me as to how you can genuinely be all of them."

The rising and falling of his chest slow as she sees in real-time him calming his emotions. He looks at her with apathy, which is more jarring than any anger he could have displayed. "I hope to give you more clarity in the future then."

He turns, leaving Satine alone in the middle of the dance floor.

A tap on her shoulder. She turns to see Nel, his eyes trained on Obi-Wan pushing through the crowd.

"Are you okay?" he asks, finally looking down at her. "It looked pretty... tense over here."

She lets out a breath, hiding her shaking hands behind her back. So he had been watching. She can see his deep frown as he tracks the Jedi with his eyes, even still. Is he... jealous? The thought nearly makes her laugh. Nothing in the world could make her want Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has nothing to be jealous of.

"Everything is perfect, now that you are here to dance with me," she says, holding out her hand. Nel's frown becomes a small smile and he takes her hand in his.

_____

Who would Obi-Wan run into as soon as he returned to the Jedi Temple than Quin? Of course. Even worse, his other friends Bant Eerin and Garen Muln sit in the windowsill with him. As soon as Quin sees him, he jumps up, his eyes wide. Right. I'm still dressed like a blasted politician.

"Obi, where the hell did you just come from? Out seeing a certain someone?" Quin says. This is exactly the attention Obi-Wan is not in the mood for at this moment.

"Nowhere and no one," he says coldly, just wanting to go hide in his room and meditate. He tries to push past Quin, but he grabs Obi-Wan by the bicep, his playful demeanor suddenly shifted to seriousness. Even Bant and Garen have gotten to their feet, staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He sighs, pulling his arm out of Quin's grasp. "I need... I need to meditate, Quinlan." He can't bring himself to look at Bant or Garen.

The use of his full name seems to catch him off guard enough that he releases him. Obi-Wan makes a mental note to apologize to him and the others later, but for now, he has two things on his mind: getting these damned clothes off and sinking into meditation so deep it rivals Master Yoda.

He takes off down the hall, leaving Quin, Bant, and Garen speechless and standing in the middle of the passage.

As soon as he gets in his apartment, Obi-Wan starts pulling off pieces of his outfit. How long did he spend tracking down that senior padawan to borrow these clothes? To look nice? To make his impact less obvious for Lady Satine's sake? He marches into his room, throwing them in the direction of his hamper. Now standing in just a plain shirt and his undergarments, he takes a deep breath, letting the Force surround him. He summons good feelings, using them to help push out the bad ones.

"Obi-Wan?" he distantly hears his name, but he ignores it for now as he sinks into a meditative pose on the floor.

It is not the Jedi way to be angry. To be affected in such a way. I release these negative sentiments to the Force.

It is not the Jedi way to be frustrated. To let the words of others, especially of those I have sworn to protect, to make me bitter. I release these negative sentiments to the Force.

The weight on his shoulders lessens and he relaxes.

It is not the Jedi way to take my emotions out on my friends. I shall explain my poor mood to them and apologize. I release these negative sentiments to the Force.

Maybe he will go see them tonight. They are likely still sitting out there discussing his strange behavior.

It is not the Jedi way... he swallows hard. It is not the Jedi way to... you know. I release these sentiments to the Force.

[unfortunate-arrow]

Birthday, Part 2: Party Planning

[Check out part 1, gift shopping.]

[Carewyn @carewyncromwell , Spencer and Becca @hphmbetty , Malcolm @cursebreakerelmswood and Artemis @no-moon-nor-stars ]

The kitchen table at the Burrow was overflowing. There were twelve occupants at the table, and they had a lot of different lists. They had about a week to get everything together, as the O’Donnell quads turned 16 on the 18th and it was the 12th. Aside from it being August, the quads’ birthday also happened to be a Friday, which made it a lot easier to throw the surprise party on their actual birthday. 

“So, where do we want to start? Food, music, decor?” Rowan Khanna asked, gesturing to the mess on the table in front of her. 

“Well, we’ve already sent the invitations and know that the O’Donnells aren’t doing anything that night, so maybe music?” Ash Khanna suggested. 

“Sure.” 

“I have a lot of records I could bring!” Carewyn suggested. 

“Okay.” Rowan reached onto the table and grabbed a piece of paper. She wrote the word “music” in big letters at the top. “So, which groups do we want?” 

“We need The Who for Conor. Ryan really likes The Beatles as well as The Rolling Stones. Cara likes the Stones as well. Sara’s good with more poppy stuff like Duran Duran,” Malcolm said. 

“Okay. Anything else?” 

“The Weird Sisters!” Carewyn exclaimed. 

“Okay! Spencer, Becca, Artemis any suggestions?” 

“Uh, I think I’ve heard Conor talk about U2 and R.E.M.,” Becca said. 

“Oh! How about Elton John or David Bowie?” Carewyn asked. 

“Sure. We could probably use one or two more groups after that,” Rowan said, continuing to jot down what the suggestions were. 

“How about Bruce Springsteen and the Clash?” Malcolm asked. 

“Okay. I think that’s good for music.”

“Shouldn’t we have some more wizarding music?” Charlie asked. 

“I haven’t heard them talk too much about wizarding music,” Bill said. “Usually, it’s muggle music.” 

“We should move on. Food or decor?” Rowan said, taking charge once again. 

She placed the paper with music down onto the table, and reached for another empty piece of parchment. 

“How about decor?” Artemis asked. 

“Sure,” Rowan said, writing the word “decor” in big letters at the top. “So, what kind of decorations do we want?” 

“The Bats!” Malcolm exclaimed. He got a few odd looks. He sighed. “The Ballycastle Bats, you know, the quidditch team. Let’s just have a couple Bats logos, maybe a Kenmare Kestrels logo as well.” 

“Well, three out of the four do like quidditch,” Penny commented. 

“Yeah. It doesn’t need to be a lot. Just a couple.” 

“Alright, you’ll be completely in charge of that, Malcolm,” Rowan said, jotting down “Bats” and “Malcolm.” 

“I think we should have red, green, blue, and yellow streamers and stuff,” Carewyn said. 

“I agree. That way each O’Donnell gets some individual recognition,” Artemis said. 

“Yeah. Maybe we put out like different tables and decorate each corner of the yard differently. Like a Ryan corner and Sara corner and Cara corner and Conor corner. Guests can put the individual gifts in each corner and then one in the middle or somewhere for the all four gifts.” 

“That’s a pretty good idea,” Rowan said, jotting down Carewyn’s idea. 

“Oh, Gracie and Tessa Chiva volunteered to bring some string lights for us to hang up,” Spencer said. 

“Ok. Does anyone else have any more decor ideas?” 

“Maybe we hang the Irish flag!” Tonks offered, smirking slightly. 

Rowan shook her head. “I‘ll put it down, but I don’t know if we’ll use it,” she said. 

“That’s fine.”

Rowan placed the decorations list onto the table and took another sheet of parchment. She wrote the word “food” in big letters at the top of the paper. 

“So, what’s on the menu?” Rowan asked. 

“Well, Mum volunteered to make the bulk of the actual like dinner,” Charlie said. 

“Okay. So what do we want for dinner, since the party starts at 6:30?” 

“It’s not dinner, exactly, but I can try and make soda bread. It’s a fairly traditional Irish bread,” Malcolm offered. 

“Sure. What should we add for dinner, though?” Rowan said, not looking up from the parchment as she jotted down Malcolm’s offer. 

“How's spaghetti? It’s simple and easy and I know the O’Donnells all like it. We could have a couple side dishes as well,” Penny suggested. 

Rowan watched as the majority of the group nodded. “Okay, so we need a few sides then. What do we think would work?” 

“Meatballs!” “Chips!” “Mashed potatoes!” “Garlic bread!” “Let’s add ham as a main dish!” Rowan jotted down the different suggestions. They didn’t seem too overwhelming. 

“How about we let Mrs. Weasley figure out what’s too much?” Rowan asked. 

“Mum’ll be fine doing whatever. She’ll enlist me and Charlie and our other siblings to help,” Bill said. 

“Okay, if you’re sure. We can move on to snacks and dessert, then.” 

“I’m positive.” 

Rowan sighed. “So who wants to bring what desserts or snacks?”

“I’ll bake chocolate chip cookies!” Spencer exclaimed, smiling. 

“I’m going to make red velvet brownies,” Carewyn said. 

“The Chiva twins said they’ll bring monkey bread,” Barnaby added. 

“Okay. Ash and I can bring cupcakes,” Rowan said, jotting down everything that had just been said. “Now, snacks. What do we need?” 

“Goldfish crackers. Conor’s addicted to them,” Artemis said. “They’re a muggle snack.” 

“Okay. Anything else?” 

“How about crisps of some type? The brand Tayto is big in Ireland,” Malcolm said. 

“Sure. Maybe we do a couple brands of crisps,” Rowan said. 

The group continued to add and debate things for a good fifteen more minutes. Then, before they adjourned for the night, they went through and assigned people jobs for the decorating. They agreed to meet on the 18th at 4:30 in order to start decorating, and made the agreement to send out reminders to all the invitees telling them to arrive between 6 and 6:30. They also double checked that they had actually agreed to invite the quads, because if they hadn’t it wouldn’t have been a great thing. 

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (17)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: It’s New Years Eve, which means it’s time for Bucky to suffer through a Tony Stark party.

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

“You could try a little, that’s all I’m saying” she shouts through the bathroom door.

He makes a face in the mirror, rolls his eyes at his full-length reflection. A monkey suit, that’s what they used to call it. Do they still call it that? “I am trying,” he replies harshly, pulling at his cuffs. Stark had a tailor come in and fit all of the guys for tuxes, but somehow this still just doesn’t seem right. The shirt cuffs are too tight around his wrists. The silky fabric feels weird on his metal arm. The pants are too tight. The tailor said they were perfect, they’re supposed to fit like that. But he feels like he can’t move. And these damn shiny shoes are pinching his toes so bad he wants to scream. But he can’t. He can’t scream. Because his collar is buttoned all the way up and there’s a freaking bowtie around his neck and it’s strangling the life out of him.

“Stop it,” she says from behind. He has two fingers deep in his collar, tugging, desperately trying to get some air. “Stop. It.”

He looks up and catches her reflection in the mirror. Her face is stern, but beautiful. It’s always beautiful, but… “Wow,” he breathes out. She normally has her hair back in a messy bun or a haphazard ponytail. Her makeup, typically, consists of cherry Chapstick, maybe a little eyeliner if she’s going out. When she ‘suits up’ for a business meeting or a conference she’ll throw on some heels, add a bit of mascara, and straighten her hair. The last Stark party they went to was the most dressed up he’s ever seen her, and even that was nothing compared to this.

Her hair is collected to one side, loose curls cascading over her shoulder. The dark, blood-red lipstick is striking against her pale skin and dark hair. And the thick, smoky shadow and eyeliner make her green eyes stand out like emeralds in a coal mine.

“You look amazing,” he says, eyes glued to her reflection, fingers still in his collar.

“And you,” she says, moving to his side, “didn’t even shave.” She grabs his fingers and tugs them away from his collar, straightens his bowtie as he clears his throat.

“I haven’t shaved in 70 years. I’m not gonna start again for Stark.” He drops his forehead to hers, slowly slips his metal arm around her lower back, hand falling to her hip. He pulls her closer as he whispers into her hair, “I don’t deserve you.”

She smiles crookedly. “No. You don’t.” He leans in to kiss her and she pulls away, twisting out of his grip.

“Hey,” he whines, grabbing at her as the lightweight fabric of her dress slips through his fingers.

“No,” she says simply, moving to the side of the bed to put on her shoes. “I just got all of this right. I’m not risking it.”

“I told you how amazing you look, right?” he asks with an impish grin.

She shrugs. “If I opened my legs every time you gave me a compliment, I’d never get anything done.”

“I just wanted a kiss,” he says coyly, moving closer to her. “You’ve got a dirty mind,” he mutters into her neck as he nuzzles close. He wraps his arms around her, his hands parting the open fabric at the back of her dress. She jerks involuntarily as his cold metal fingertips begin tracing along her spine. He breathes into her ear, “Not that I’d say no to something more,” and he kisses her neck, again and again, slowly moving down to her naked shoulder.

She’s frozen for a long moment, balancing on one heel, her other shoeless foot dangling, toes skimming the carpet. But… “Nope,” she says finally, once his lips reach her collar bone. She pushes back and turns around, bending down at the waist to help her other shoe on. She presses her hip against his thigh as she does so. She looks back at him, all doe eyed and innocent. “Zip me up?” she asks as she slowly straightens, sliding her hand along the inside of his leg as she goes.

He lets out a strained laugh. “You’re evil,” he says as he works to find the zipper. He pulls it up slowly, teasingly, and lays a final kiss on her shoulder. “But I love it.”

“I know,” she says simply, striding out of the room.

He watches her go. The gold silk of her dress drapes loosely over her left shoulder, but it clings tightly to her waist, her hips. He watches as the shimmering fabric glides along her calves with every step, showing only hints of her left leg through the thigh-high slit. “You sure you don’t just want to stay in?” he almost whines, trailing behind her. “Think about it. You could ring in the new year with a bunch of stuffy billionaires – ”

“And my closest friends,” she interjects.

“Eating caviar and shrimp and champagne –”

“Three of my favorite things.”

“In a dress that looks really uncomfortable.”

“This fits like a glove.” She faces him, kicks her leg out from the slit in a mock-model pose, and runs her hands down her body slowly to prove her point.

He raises his eyebrows as he smiles. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Were you about to give me an alternative?” she questions snarkily.

He clears his throat, redirects his gaze from her thigh to her eyes. “Or,” he intones, “You could spend the night with me. Here. At home.” He’s in front of her in two strides. “Naked.”

“How ‘bout this,” she begins, draping her arms around his neck. “You come with me to the party, which I have to go to because Tony would be heartbroken if I didn’t show –”

“Oh no. We wouldn’t want that.”

“And then, if you behave, I’ll come back here with you. And get naked.”

“How long do we have to stay?”

“’Til the ball drops.”

“Is that code for something?”

“No,” she replies deadpan.

She drops her arms from around his neck and turns to leave. It’s already after eight and this makeup won’t last all night.

“What does behave mean?” he asks, tugging at the fabric of his pants. Why were they so tight around his thighs?

“If you have to ask,” she throws over her shoulder, “then you’re probably not doing it.”

He lets out a resigned sigh, slumps his shoulders, and follows her out the door.

---

They’ve been at the party for a little over two hours – though it feels like a full eight – when he decides that he just can’t take it anymore. He’s pulling at his collar again, still actually. He’s been doing it all night, even after she loosened his bowtie, rolling her eyes dramatically and telling Steve to look after the wittle baby. “This is just…” he shakes his head, struggling to find the words.

“Lame?” Sam offers.

Bucky shoots him a glare, but nods in agreement. He takes another swig of his beer. “I can’t even get drunk.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve laments.

The three men have been clustered together for the better part of an hour now, close enough to the bar to ensure easy access to drinks, but as far as they can get from the throngs of people weaving in and out of the reception hall.

It’s pretty impressive actually. Tony – really Pepper – had managed to turn the wide open space that was at first designed to be a second training facility into a ballroom-like hall. It was also a bit ridiculous. Stark had decided to throw this New Year’s party as a sort of coming out for the new Avengers’ compound. Obviously people wouldn’t be allowed into certain areas on the campus. But the ones that did make the tour were practically given a complete makeover for the party. Nothing the men had passed outside of the living quarters was even recognizable to them.

The invitees were mostly politicians who supported the Avengers Initiative, big-wig contributors who had helped fund the new digs, and, of course, the press.

By now, Steve’s lost count of how many people have come over to him to shake his hand. Sam’s lost count of how many times he’s rolled his eyes when these same people ask him how he knows Captain America. And Bucky’s lost count of how many beers he’s gulped down, desperately hoping that if he has enough, he’ll feel at least a little bit tipsy.

“Tessa looks nice,” Steve says, looking out across the room at his friend. She’s mingling as part of the Avengers and Stark Industries, trying to raise funds for her research, get donations for additional equipment for the team, and, as Tony put it, boost the public image of the organizations by dazzling rich fools with her beautiful smile and brilliant intellect. Bucky thought it sounded like she was being used. Tessa thought it sounded like an opportunity to dress up and have fun talking about her work, promoting the deeds of her family, and also fleecing stuck-up politicians and millionaires out of tens of thousands of dollars… all for a good cause, of course.

“Nice,” Sam repeats, his eyes honing in on her. “She looks unbelievable.”

Bucky inhales deeply and almost growls at the man to his right, which elicits an actual giggle from the Falcon. Because unlike the two super soldiers, Sam can get drunk. And apparently it only takes four beers to get him there.

Bucky follows Steve’s eyes out into the crowd and he sees his girl. Her dress is a deep, luminous gold that shines in the low light of the hall. Her head is thrown back in an over-the-top sort of laugh. It’s not her normal laugh, no, but it still somehow seems genuine and completely true to her. There are multiple people gathered around her, including Tony and Bruce, all listening to her speak. He knew that Tony wanted her to talk about the medical wing on campus and all of the fancy tech in it. And he wanted her to talk up the wonderful staff, all of whom were being trained in emergency response so that Avengers would be able to “take care of the people whose lives they affected.”

But right now she just seems to be schmoozing, and doing a hell of a job at it. He can’t help but think, watching her shine at the center of all of these people, that she looks like the sun at the center of her own universe.

“I hate this,” he says for the hundredth time, as he downs the rest of his beer and turns towards the bar to grab another.

Steve sighs and follows him, places a hand on his forearm when he rests it on the bar, waiting for the bartender to stop flirting with the debutante at the far end and come serve him. “You know,” he says in that Captain America knows best way, “you could try to have fun.”

He whips around a little too fast, pulling his arm out of his friend’s grasp. “I am trying,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Try harder,” they hear Natasha voice from behind the bar.

“What are you doing back there?” Steve asks, brow furrowed.

Clint sidles up next to them – truly a stealthy agent as they hadn’t even realized he’d been in the building – and reaches out to accept the bottle of bourbon Nat just nicked. “This guy’s been playing favorites all night,” he says, gesturing wildly towards the bartender at the far end. “It’s like he doesn’t know who we are.”

Natasha pokes around beneath the bar for another moment and comes back with her hands full of bottles of beer. “For the all-Americans,” she says, setting them down in front of Bucky and Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve says, picking up a bottle and inspecting the label. “This isn’t American beer, though.” Fucking Stella Artois. Leave it to Stark to only offer expensive crap beer. Bucky takes a long pull from his bottle and continues to stew in silence.

Clint grabs a beer for good measure and leans on the bar in front of them. “So,” he says, looking at Bucky, “How was your Christmas?”

The soldier glances up and sees that Barton’s got a teasing glint in his eye and a shit-eating grin covering his face. He narrows his eyes at him, but says nothing.

“Tessa told him what she was doing,” Natasha mutters. He spins around to find the redhead suddenly at his shoulder. Freaking ninjas, he thinks, shaking his head.

“What was she doing?” Steve pipes up, clearly confused.

“Nothing,” Bucky responds.

“She gave him a homemade gift,” Clint tells the captain with a wink.

Before Steve can inquire further, Nat jumps in with, “Did she tell you what Barnes got her?”

He shakes his head. “I just got in. Haven’t talked to her yet.”

Natasha raises a single brow. “He bought her a Ducati. V4. 214 Horsepower.”

Clint’s mouth falls open. “No shit?” Bucky grins a bit and nods his head. “I got Laura a new washing machine,” he says absently.

“Thing’s a deathtrap,” Steve grouses. “A really nice deathtrap, but a deathtrap.”

“Really, Cap,” he says, sipping at the bourbon in his right hand while his left continues to hold tight to his beer, “if we only did the things you approved of, no one would ever have any fun around here.”

“Thank you.” Bucky takes another drink himself and gives Steve a side-eye glare. He really needs to stop talking about how dangerous the bike is. If he doesn’t, they might have more than just words.

“I’m just saying –”

“Stop saying and just drink your damn beer.”

“Drink my,” Steve breathes out. “Buck,” he starts, stopping suddenly and shaking his head. “I don’t know what your deal is tonight.”

“My deal is that I don’t want to be here, wearing this… thing. Drinking this beer…”

“Hanging out with these people,” Natasha quips.

“I like these people,” Clint says with a pout. He points at Bucky. “This one here, he’s half of my new favorite couple.”

“And that’s really the problem, right?” Steve asks with a quirked brow, a teasing note to his voice. “You just want Tessa all to yourself.”

“That’s very selfish,” Nat mumbles.

“Unless,” Steve starts, the glint in his eye growing, “you wanted to have her all to yourself because you wanted to propose tonight?”

“Propose what?” Clint asks flippantly as his eyes dance around the room.

Bucky gives his friend a derisive stare. “I just bought her a deathtrap,” he replies, no emotion in his voice. “I can’t afford a ring too.”

Steve glances over at Tessa and sees her talking rather intently with Bruce. But when she catches his eye, she smiles and waves. He waves back. “Well, you better ask for a raise then, because you cannot let her get away.”

“She’s not a wild animal caught in a snare, Steve,” Natasha chides.

“I’m just saying, you honestly can’t do any better.”

Clint and Nat both snigger under their breath as they silently slip away with their bourbon.

Bucky shoots Steve a sideways glare. “Aren’t you supposed to say something like, she’s a lucky gal? Or, even just I hope you two are happy together? You’re my friend. You’re not supposed to tell me I can’t do better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you think that you can do better?” he asks with mock sincerity.

“No. But that’s not the point.”

“I’m her friend too. I knew her and loved her before you did.”

“Careful.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, well, I’m your oldest friend, your best friend.”

“Are you jealous of my relationship with your fiancée right now?”

“I’m just a little hurt that you think she’s so much better than me,” he says. “And she’s not my fiancée. Stop pushing.”

Steve sees Tessa and Bruce split apart, watches her politely shake hands with an older man before skirting past him, moving toward the bar. “Well,” he says, turning back to Bucky, “she’s an accomplished physician and geneticist. Even Tony thinks she’s brilliant, and in case he’s never mentioned it to you, he’s a genius. She’s obviously incredibly patient because… you. She’s funny, beautiful, and genuinely one of the most caring people I know. And she has superpowers.”

“Powers, maybe. But superpowers? Just relax there, pal.”

“And,” Steve adds, grabbing a beer for Sam along with his own and pushing off of the bar. “She will be your fiancée just as soon as you man-up and ask her.” He glances up and sees that she’s just a few strides away, so he nearly whispers the rest. “And she’ll be the luckiest gal in the world.” He pats his friend on the shoulder and nods a hello to Tessa as she approaches.

“Where are you off to?” she asks, noticing that he’s turning to leave.

He holds up the two beers in his hand. “Sam’s waiting,” he says simply, goofy smile on his face.

She looks questioningly at him as he walks away, noting the I know something look he had about him. “What were you two talking about?” she asks Bucky.

“Nothing,” he replies with a shrug. He pivots to face her. “You’ve been making the rounds,” he notes.

“Ah, yes. Boozin’ and schmoozin’,” she says, downing the rest of her wine and setting the empty glass on the bar. “How ‘bout you? Are you behaving?” she asks mockingly.

“Always,” he says with an all too fake smile.

Tessa laughs. It’s the laugh he knows, big and bright and breathy, not the laugh that he saw her doing for others earlier. She grabs him by the hand suddenly and pulls. “C’mon,” she says.

He finishes his beer and moves to quickly to set the bottle down, almost missing the bar as she drags him off. He has a sudden, terrible thought and says, “Do not force me into meeting people.” It comes out harsher than he intends, stern.

“You think I’d do that to you?” she asks, stopping short. He almost rams right into her, she halts so fast, and he grabs her around the middle to steady both of them. “Ye of little faith,” she says with a smile.

He looks down at her and notices the glassiness to her eyes, the crooked smile “How much have you had to drink?” he asks with a smile of his own.

“How much have you had?” she shoots back.

“A lot. But I can handle it.”

She snorts indignantly, an odd sound coming from such an elegant looking woman. And he can’t help but laugh. “I can handle it,” she assures him, turning and continuing to pull him through the crowd.

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t ask me to hold your hair back later when you’re puking up red wine everywhere.”

“I won’t,” she says, dragging him into the center of the giant room. They don’t stop until they reach the very middle of the dance floor. She turns to face him, wraps her arms around his neck, and says, “Dance with me.”

He moves closer to her, a little put off by all the people surrounding them. But his arms are draped around her waist and she’s already swaying to the music, and he can’t help but enjoy the feel of that. This he can do. He may hate being surrounded by all these people, most of whom he swears are staring daggers into his back. But having a dance with his girl is something he’d never disagree to. “Are you having a good time?” he asks her softly.

“Yeah,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I am now.”

“Good,” he says, placing a kiss on her head.

The music changes pace slightly, but their slow rocking motion remains the same. She looks up at him, locks onto his brilliant blue eyes. “Thanks for trying,” she says with a small smile. And if that doesn’t just make him feel like crap.

He starts to say that he’s sorry, that he should’ve acted like a grown up and not some dumb, disappointed kid. He starts to say, again, that he doesn’t deserve her and that she’s the best and he’s the worst and dammit, he’ll try harder. Hell, he’ll just try, period. But he doesn’t get the chance to say any of it. Just as his mouth begins to move, he’s elbowed sharply in the side. He whirls around to see Stark looming with an playful grin on his face.

“Hey, Tin Man,” Tony says, giving him another little shove. “Move it or lose it.”

“Excuse me?” he asks, voice carrying just the slightest hint of an actual threat.

“I want to dance with my favorite team doctor.”

“Aw,” Tessa declares. “That’s so sweet.”

Bucky turns on her. “No it’s not. He’s interrupting.”

Tony just shrugs. “Fine. I guess you don’t want your Christmas present slash holiday bonus then.”

“Do I have to dance with you to get it?” she asks, suspiciously. “Do we have an HR department yet? Because I feel like that’s something that I could report you for.”

“Adorable,” he spits out. Then, whipping an envelope out of his jacket, “Here.”

She takes the envelope and gives it a little shake. “Doesn’t sound like anything breakable.”

He rolls his eyes and faces Bucky. “Really, how do you put up with her?”

“Is it cash monies?” she asks with an impish smile.

“Just open it,” he says exhaustedly.

She does, and her brow furrows as she pulls out a small packet. “It’s a plane ticket,” she says, confusion lacing her words.

“Two, actually. Round trip.”

“To the Maldives,” she says, still unable to make sense of it.

“Yep. I have a house there. Right on the beach. I don’t let just anyone stay there, you know.” He turns to Bucky. “And I will notice if anything goes missing.”

“I don’t understand,” she tells him. “You’re sending me to the Maldives? Why?”

Tony takes in a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “My God,” he utters. “She doesn’t even know what a vacation is.”

“You’re sending me on a vacation?”

“Yes,” he nearly shouts. “How hard is that to decipher? Two tickets to a romantic, tropical paradise…”

Her eyes widen. “You’re sending us on a vacation?”

He leans forward and grasps her shoulders. “Look, kid, you’ve been putting up with a lot lately. I know I’ve been asking for a lot. But you do it… you do it everything I ask. Tonight… have you heard what people are saying about the plans for the med team? That might just be the biggest take away of this whole evening. And it’s all because of you.”

She shakes her head slowly. “The med team was your idea.”

“Yeah, fine, you’re right. I’m a genius.” He drops his hands down from her shoulders and takes hold of her hands, gives them each a small squeeze as he says, “But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A bright smile slowly blooms across her face, the joy and appreciation radiating from her so intense that Bucky feels his chest tighten just watching her. “Thanks, Tony,” she says simply, a bit shyly.

“You’re welcome.” He drops her hands and spins around, patting Bucky roughly on the shoulder as he goes. “You leave tomorrow afternoon,” he throws over his shoulder.

“But – ” she starts.

She’s cut off by Tony’s shout of, “And I will get that dance,” just before he gets sucked back into the crowd.

[mistrose23]

Part 1

DISCLAIMER: This is just an idea for a friend of mine, she wanted a Tony x reader x John smut. I know that Tony and John are not in the same universe, so this is just a fantasy.

SUMMARY: Y/N works with the Avengers when she gets an assignment to find an artifact for them. While searching for the item, she meets John Wick. She is in a friend with benefits relationship with Tony Stark, but what happens when she gets close with John?

WARNINGS: Smut, age gap, language, dom/sub, rough sex, sex toys, BDSM, choking, etc. 18+ ONLY

WORD COUNT: 5554

Part 1 | part 2 |

It was a rainy Tuesday evening when Y/N was working in her lab on her latest project. A cup of tea waited for her on her left, while light piano music could be heard in the background. For a couple of months, she was tracking an artefact for the Avengers. Before she got this project, she was already working with the Avengers. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark wanted her on this job, because Y/N was specialized in mystical objects and artefacts. What they didn’t know, was that Y/N wanted to lead this specific project badly and that she had planted that idea in their heads. Why? The artefact in question is a long-lost family heirloom of hers.  

Long before Y/N was born, the heirloom was stolen from their family by the Russian mob. Many family members have tried to get the object back again, but all had failed. It became some sort of a family business to search and find the family heirloom. Y/N heard many stories while growing up from her family about the family piece, so it wasn’t a surprise when Y/N started to get obsessed with it too. That’s why her parents trained her and send her to special classes. Just like any other teenager she went to high school and university. After she graduated and when she started doing field research about the heirloom, an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. came in contact with her. Y/N found an item by accident that S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for. They were impressed by her skills and they offered her a training program at S.H.I.E.L.D. At first, Y/N was hesitant about joining forces with the organization, but they told her that when she will complete the training program, that she can lead projects with the best people and with all the resources that she needs. With her family heirloom in her mind, she agreed. 

They taught her everything she needed to know. Fighting, weaponry, languages and decoding. She passed every exam without question. In the beginning, she got little tasks within S.H.I.E.L.D. and she managed teams. That was until she got assigned to help the Avengers. Her first assignment with them was to locate Loki’s Scepter. Ever since that mission, the Avengers were fond of her and they wanted Y/N in their team. She became part of the team and not only as someone who searched for mystical objects, but also as a spy like Natasha and Clint.  

It has been three years since S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited her and it has been a year since she started working with the Avengers. Tony gave her, her own lab in the Avengers Tower, because especially he was fond of the young woman. Y/N felt the same way and eventually the pair started a friends with benefits relationship.  

A soft knock brought Y/N back from her thoughts. She turned her head and she saw Bruce Banner standing next to the door.  

‘Hey, Bruce,’ Y/N greeted him with a soft smile.  

‘Y/N,’ Bruce said, and he stepped inside. ‘Are you still working?’ 

The young woman nodded. ‘Yeah, I think I’m close to a breakthrough with the ring.’ 

‘Really?’ he asked interested and he took a seat next to her.  

She nodded again and pointed to one of the screens in front of her. ‘When I started this project, I always thought that the object would be in Russia, because the Russian mob stole it. But recently I saw it pop-up on multiple collectors’ websites. So, I think that it will at an exhibition soon.’ 

Bruce watched me intensely. ‘How do you know so much about it?’ 

Y/N shrugged. ‘I tried to track it in the past, but without success. It always intrigued me. I was really happy when Tony came to me with this project. Because in the past it was all me, but now I have a team and resources that can help me.’ 

Bruce smiles softly. ‘It’s nice seeing you talking so passionate about your job.’ 

‘You do the same,’ Y/N told him with a smirk. ‘By the way, do you know why you guys want this artifact so badly?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Bruce chuckled. ‘Apparently the value of it is really high. And the ring contains something within... an elixir.’ 

‘What kind of an elixir?’ Y/N asked, even though she knew what the ring contained.  

‘We are not sure,’ Bruce admitted. ‘We heard rumors that it contains an Elixir of Life. Others say it’s an elixir similar to the super soldier serum.’ 

‘So, either it’s similar to Steve’s serum or it’s like a potion for immortality?’ Y/N asked.   

Bruce nodded. ‘That’s why we need it and lock it up. The elixir can be catastrophic in the wrong hands.’ 

Oh, if they only knew. That’s not why her family wanted it back so badly. ‘Yeah, I understand. I’m still running a view tests, but I really think I’m close.’ 

The scientist smiled. ‘I’m glad, Y/N. I’m really happy that you’re helping us, you’re a great asset to our team.’ 

Y/N blushed. ‘Thank you, Bruce.’ 

He stood up and walked towards the door. ‘If you need anything, please ask us.’ 

‘I will, thanks,’ Y/N nodded.  

Bruce left the room and she was alone again. The ring didn’t contain an elixir or a serum. That was just a fairytale an enemy of the family made up. The ring actually contains a cure for a disease... a disease that kills all the females from the Y/L/N bloodline. It was genetic. Y/N her grandmother and aunts died from this disease, just like her other female predecessors. Now, her mother was sick, and she needed this cure. It was common that when the women in the Y/L/N family reached the age of 35, that the disease would be triggered. The women could mostly live with the disease for five years. Y/N her mother discovered that she was sick two years ago, so she really needed that cure. Y/N made it her life mission and that’s why she wanted the cure.

She sighed and watched the screen in anticipation, but nothing happened. The only think she could see was that her computer was running tests. She sighed and drunk her tea. Y/N kept looking at the screen, but eventually she drifted off.  

 The next morning, she woke up because of a beeping sound. Slowly Y/N opened her eyes and the first thing that she noticed was that someone had put a blanket around her body. The second thing that she noticed was that her screens lit up with an exclamation mark. The sound was also coming from there. Y/N threw the blanket away and she pressed the space bar. An article from an exhibition popped up, together with some websites. Her eyes immediately searched for a date and a location. She knew this was it. This was her family ring and it would be displayed at the exhibition. Within a couple of minutes Y/N discovered the details. She picked up her tablet and ran to the living quarters of the Tower. The Avengers had to know about this.  

‘F.R.I.D.AY., are they awake yet?’ Y/N asked the AI.  

‘Yes, miss Y/N,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered. ‘Currently, they are in the kitchen.’ 

Y/N rushed to the elevator and she hit the button to go to the top floor of the Tower, where the living quarters were. Impatiently, she stood in the elevator. She was so excited to share the news with them, she finally had a break through. When the door opened, she ran out of the elevator. 

‘Guys!’ Y/N shrieked. ‘I have news!’ 

All heads turned to her. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff were sitting at the dining table and they were still eating breakfast. Natasha Romanoff sat on the kitchen counter while drinking some coffee. Clint Barton was rummaging through the fridge and Bruce was making his breakfast.  

‘Good morning, Y/N,’ Tony greeted her with a smirk. ‘I’m great, thanks for asking. How are you?’ 

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she grinned softly. ‘Yeah, yeah, good morning. I have news about the ring!’ 

Steve lowered his cup and looked at the girl. ‘You have?’ 

‘Yes!’ Y/N said full excitement and she eyed Bruce. ‘I was right yesterday. The artifact is going to be displayed during an exhibition.’ 

She opened the tablet and she pressed a couple of buttons, so that the tablet could project everything that she could see in the air. Y/N showed them the article and the websites.  

Tony took a step closer and read everything carefully. Bruce, Steve and Natasha did the same.  

‘Great work, Y/N,’ Steve complimented Y/N and she nodded at him thankfully.  

‘Did you see that the exhibition is tonight?’ Wanda commented.  

‘Yeah, but that’s okay,’ Y/N said, and she shrugged. ‘We can go there, it’s in New York.’ 

‘Erm, Y/N,’ Bruce said. ‘It’s a private exhibition. Only invitees can go.’ 

‘What?’ Y/N stammered, and she re-read the article. Bruce was right, it was written in the last paragraph.  

‘It’s not a problem,’ Natasha scoffed. ‘We can crash it.’ 

‘Nat, no,’ Steve mumbled. ‘We can not just do that.’ 

‘Yes, we can,’ Clint said, and he and Natasha started to argue with Steve. 

Y/N wasn’t paying attention, she was watching Tony. He was very quiet, and he kept eying his phone.  

‘Tony, you’re unusually quiet,’ Y/N said. ‘What do you think?’ 

He looked at her and smirked. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got us covered.’ 

Everyone looked at him confused. What was he talking about? 

‘Tony, what do you mean?’ Bruce asked.  

Tony eyed Y/N. ‘We are going to the exhibition tonight, sweetie.’ 

‘How?’ Y/N asked him. 

‘Hello,’ Tony laughed. ‘Are you forgetting that I own Stark Industries? People want me there and you’re my plus one.’ 

‘Do you need back-up?’ Wanda asked.  

‘They can handle it,’ Steve said with a nod. ‘But Clint and Natasha will go to the venue to keep an eye out for them.’ 

Both assassins nodded.  

Wanda gave Y/N a cup of coffee and Y/N sat down at the table, next to Tony.  

‘What is the plan?’ Bruce asked. ‘Are they going to steal it immediately or are they just going to observe?’ 

‘Observe,’ Steve said, while Y/N said: ‘Steal it.’ 

They watched each other.  

‘We don’t know what we’re dealing with, Y/N,’ Steve mumbled. ‘We have to be careful.’ 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ‘I have been looking for this ring for three years already, Steve. Tony and I can do this.’ 

‘Y/N,’ Tony muttered. ‘Steve is right, we don’t know anything. We have to observe first.’ 

Y/N looked at Natasha questionably, but Natasha shook her head as a warning. ‘Fine. We will observe first.’ 

 After dinner, Y/N started to get herself ready. She put on some make-up and she styled her hair in a propriate way, because the exhibition would be a chic gathering. It was when she opened her wardrobe, that she came to the conclusion that she didn’t have a fancy dress. She scolded at herself and called F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she asked it she could connect her with Tony. Of course, F.R.I.D.A.Y. complied.  

‘Yes, sweetheart?’ she heard Tony’s voice in her room. 

‘Tony, I just concluded that I don’t have a dress for tonight,’ Y/N confessed. ‘I feel so stupid.’ 

‘Don’t,’ Tony said. ‘Make yourself ready and I will be at yours in five minutes.’ 

He ended the connection and Y/N huffed. But Tony kept his word. He stood inside her room within five minutes and he was holding a beautiful emerald green dress in his hands.  

‘Try this,’ he said, and he gave it to her. He took a seat on her bed and he watched her change. 

The dress was knee length and it fitted her perfectly. When she looked at Tony, she could see in his eyes that he agreed.  

‘How do I look?’ Y/N asked, just to get a reaction from him. 

‘Breathtaking,’ Tony whispered. ‘Let’s go, I can’t wait any longer.’ 

 After a fifteen-minute drive, Tony and Y/N arrived at the venue. Both got escorted inside and they were provided with champagne. It was already crowded, but the pair didn’t care. The whole hall was filled with showcases with jewelry and other precious items.  

‘Maybe we should split up,’ Y/N suggested. ‘There are so many objects.’ 

Tony squinted his eyes but nodded. ‘All right, but we will meet again in half an hour at the bathroom.’ 

Y/N agreed, and she left Tony. He took one side of the hall and she took the other side. Most of the showcases were filled with coins or antique tableware. That was until her eyes fell on a showcase in a corner of the hall. The light was bad, and nobody was there, except for one guard and one other man. Slowly she made her way to the corner. The guard kept his eyes on the man and her, while the man was eyeing the ring. Y/N bumped into the man on purpose, but she played it off like it was an accident.  

‘Oh, sir, I’m so sorry,’ Y/N apologized quickly. ��I stumbled, stupid heels. Are you okay?’ 

The man chuckled. He had long black hair, a beard and dark eyes. ‘It’s fine, miss. I was just admiring this ring.’ 

Y/N took a step closer and she studied the ring. Yes, this was the ring she was looking for. ‘It’s really beautiful. A shame that will be locked up in this museum.’ 

‘I agree,’ the man confirmed. ‘The history of the ring is also interesting.’ 

‘Really?’ Y/N asked fake-interested. ‘Do you want to share that information?’ 

The man laughed. ‘Sure. Rumor has is that the ring contains an elixir inside. Some say it’s an elixir for immortality.’ 

‘The Elixir of Life,’ Y/N hummed.  

The man looked at her. ‘You are familiar with it.’ 

Y/N winked. ‘Maybe I am. Are you a collector?’ 

The man chuckled and he held out his hand. ‘No, not even close. My name is John Wick by the way.’ 

Y/N accepted his hand. ‘Y/N Y/L/N. Are you here with someone?’  

John shook his head and he chuckled again. ‘You ask a lot of questions, darling. No, I’m on my own here. And you?’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said and laughed. ‘Yeah, I’m the plus one of Tony Stark.’  

John raised his eyebrows. ‘Tony Stark, huh? Are you a couple?’ 

Y/N smirked. ‘And you said that I asked a lot of questions. No, I’m single. I’m here for business with Tony.’ 

He looked relieved and nodded. ‘I’m also here for business. Meeting new people and maintaining relationships. And pleasing the boss of course.’ 

From behind John, Y/N could see Tony watching her from across the hall. She grinned and she decided to play a game with him. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt, right?  

Y/N placed her hand on John his bicep and squeezed it a bit. ‘As fun it was talking to you, I have to please my boss now. I hope that we can stay in contact.’  

‘I agree with you, darling,’ John said with a smile and he reached for something inside his jacket. ‘Maybe we can go for a drink soon.’  

‘I would love that,’ Y/N smiled, and she took the business card that John was holding out to her. ‘I will text you.’ After she said that, she kissed the man his cheek while making eye contact with Tony.  

She let go of him and walked away without stealing another glance at the mystery man. John was looking after her with hungry eyes and he groaned when she swayed her hips. Tony on the other hand was seething. How dared Y/N flirting with another man while he was present in the same room as her. The disrespect.  

Y/N reached Tony and she put her hand on his chest. ‘I found it, Tony. How do you want to do it?’ 

He didn’t say anything to her, he only watched her sternly. Tony grabbed her arm and he dragged her towards the nearest hallway. 

‘Tony, what are you doing?’ Y/N asked with a laugh.  

He still didn’t respond. The hallway he dragged her in was empty and private. At the end of it was a part where it was secluded. He took her there and he pushed her against the wall forcefully. 

Y/N let out a huff and she gave him a funny look. ‘All right, what is going on?’ 

Tony placed his hands on the wall, next to her head and his eyes darted over her face. ‘You flirted with that man.’ 

She laughed. ‘What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ 

‘Don’t lie to me, sweetheart,’ Tony hissed. ‘I saw you, you saw me. You held his bicep and you kissed his cheek. And when you walked away, you swayed your hips.’ 

‘Okay, maybe I did,’ Y/N admitted. ‘But why does it matter? We are not exclusive, Tony.’ 

Tony pressed his nose against her jaw, and he bit her softly. ‘Don’t say that, Y/N. You know that you’re for my eyes only. You know that those tricks you pulled off there only work on me.’ 

She moaned softly. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, sugar.’ 

Tony smirked and he kissed her. He stepped closer to her, so that their hips were touching. His hand released the wall and he held with one hand her ass and with the other her cheek.  

‘You look so fucking sexy in that dress,’ he said between kisses.  

‘Thanks,’ she breathed heavily. ‘My boss gave it to me.’ 

‘What a generous boss you have,’ Tony smirked.  

‘Yes, and he is also very handsome,’ Y/N complimented him. ‘But he is a bit old.’ 

The look in Tony’s eyes changed and without saying another word, he turned Y/N around, pushed her against the wall and he rutted his hips against her ass. His left hand made his way to her core. With his other hand, he disabled both their comms.  

 ‘Such a big mouth for a little girl,’ Tony whispered in her ear.  

‘Tony!’ Y/N said shocked. ‘What if we get caught? Natasha and Clint -’ 

‘No-one knows that we are here in this hallway,’ he said. ‘And I turned off the comms. Let me make you feel good.’ 

 He made his way under her dress and he moved her panties to the side. Slowly he touched her core and that made Y/N let out a moan. She put her hands against the wall for support  

‘Yeah, moan for me, you little slut,’ Tony muttered. ‘I bet he won’t please you the way I do.’ 

‘N-no,’ Y/N gasped. ‘Only you, Tony.’ 

He circled with his pointer finger over her clit. Y/N began to pant, and she felt herself getting wet, when she felt Tony’s hard dick poking at her backside. Tony kissed her jaw, behind her ear and he made a way down to her shoulder, where he bit her. Y/N panted and because of the right amount of pressure that Tony was putting on her clit, a knot was formed in her stomach.  

‘Keep going, Tony, please,’ she begged him. ‘You make me feel so good.’ 

‘Do I?’ he smirked. He let go off her clit and instead he pushed two fingers inside of her. ‘My sweet little slut. Thinking you can flirt with another men.’ 

Y/N was so close. If Tony could just rub her clit again. She turned her head so that she could kiss Tony. He willingly kissed her back while still pumping his fingers in and out of her.  

‘I’m so close, Tony,’ Y/N moaned. ‘Please, don’t stop.’ 

‘Of course, sweetheart,’ Tony smiled, and he pressed a kiss against her shoulder. At the same time, he started to rub her clit again. 

‘T-tony,’ Y/N cried when she felt his thumb over her clit. ‘I think I’m going to cum. Can I please cum? Please?’ 

She heard Tony chuckle and when her pussy clenched around his fingers, he slipped them out of her. He denied her orgasm.  

‘I’m sorry sweetheart,’ Tony said with a grin and he let go over her entirely. ‘Sluts are not allowed to cum.’ 

Y/N looked at him in shock and out of breath and Tony only smirked. He watched her intensely while he put his fingers in his mouth and he licked them clean. After that, he walked away, leaving Y/N dumfounded  

 A couple of minutes later, Y/N arrived yet again in the hall. Her cheeks were reddened, and her pupils were blown. She nervously straightened her dress, raised her head and strutted through the hall looking for Tony. When she saw him, she stopped immediately. Tony was standing next to an improvised bar and he was talking to John. Y/N knew that he was doing this to mess with her. She had to pull herself together, so she did that. Slowly, but confidently, she made her way to the two men.  

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ Tony greeted her with a grin, and he put his arm around her middle. ‘I was just talking to Mr. Wick.’ 

‘Tony,’ Y/N said with a forced smile. ‘I see. I already met John.’ 

‘Hey, Y/N,’ John said with a smirk. ‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’ 

Tony’s grip around Y/N tightened. Cleary he started to get jealous.  

‘So, what were you two talking about?’ Y/N asked curious.  

‘You actually,’ Tony answered, and he moved his hand more to her ass.  

Y/N looked at both men with a funny face. ‘Me? What about me?’ 

‘I told your boss that you’re a very smart and intelligent young woman,’ John replied. ‘And I told him that he should keep an eye on you. It would be a shame if someone else tries and steal you away.’ 

What were these men talking about? Stealing her away?  

Y/N laughed, and she patted Tony his chest. ‘I don’t think that Tony needs to worry about that. I enjoy my job at his company.’  

‘I was not talking about your job, darling,’ John chuckled, and he downed his drink. ‘I have to go, but it was nice meeting you two. Y/N, I’m looking forward to that drink.’ Before he left, he winked at her.  

Y/N her mouth fell open and Tony was seeing red. His fists were clenched, and his face was tense. She gulped and watched him in suspense.  

He turned to look at her. ‘He is looking forward to which drink?’ 

‘Tony,’ Y/N mumbled, she was trying to defend herself. ‘It’s nothing. He asked me for a drink sometime. I was just being friendly.’ 

Tony laughed darkly. ‘Just being friendly. Sure, Y/N. Do what you have to do, and I will see you at the exit in ten.’ 

‘Tony,’ she said, a little bit disappointed. Was he jealous?  

But Tony wasn’t having it. With a drink in his hand, he walked away from the young woman. She sighed and from the corners of her eyes, she saw John Wick leaving the exhibition. Y/N observed him, and she noticed that he was slightly nervously covering his right hand. She didn’t think much of it and shrugged it off. Also, with a drink in her hand, she walked away from the improvised bar and she decided to take a look at the ring again. Casually she made her way to the corner in the back and she walked straight towards the showcase. But when she came there, the guard was gone, and a perfect hole could be seen in the showcase. And the ring? The ring was missing. Her hand flew to her earpiece to activate it again.  

‘Tony, the ring is gone, and the guard is missing,’ she whispered.  

It took a couple of seconds before she could hear Tony his voice. ‘What?’ 

‘Come to the back,’ Y/N told him.  

She saw him walking through the crowd and she waved at him. He saw her as well and he sped up his pace. Tony inspected the showcase and he came to the same conclusion as Y/N, it was stolen.  

‘Who could have done it?’ Tony said out loud. ‘Did you see anything suspicious?’ 

‘No, because no-one was here,’ Y/N said and her eyed her surroundings. ‘I only saw John her and the guard... I don’t what happened when we were in the hallway... No-one was there, because it is not close to the other objects, the lights are bad here...’ 

Tony looked around him and then grabbed Y/N’s arm. ‘We should go. We will discuss this with Natasha and Clint.’ 

Y/N nodded, and she followed Tony.  

 When the couple arrived at the van, Clint opened the door for them.  

‘And?’ he asked, as soon as they got in.  

‘Well, the ring was there,’ Y/N answered with a sigh.  

‘Was?’ Natasha said with raised eyebrows.  

‘It has been stolen,’ Tony said, and he took a seat. ‘Did you guys see people leave early or act suspicious?’ 

They both shook their head, but then Natasha looked up again. 

‘There was someone who left early, I thin he left just a couple of minutes before you guys,’ she said and she rolled her chair to the desk with a laptop. She hit some buttons and within seconds security footage popped up on the screen.  

The four of them watched the screen and they waited for something to happen. At first, nothing exciting happened. There were people arriving late, people who were dropped of with an taxi and people who came outside to smoke a cigarette. Y/N twirled her hair around her pointer finger and watched intensely. She felt some eyes on her body and when she turned around, she saw that Tony was keeping an eye on her. Quickly he paid attention to the laptop again.  

‘Wait, did you see that?’ Clint mentioned, but no-one had seem to notice. ‘Nat, can you rewind it a bit?’ 

She nodded and did what Clint asked. Clint stopped her and all of them paid close attention.  

‘Pause it!’ Clint said and Natasha hit the spacebar.  

Y/N gasped and Tony raised his eyebrows. Oh no. On the footage, they saw John Wick. He was watching his back and the screen was frozen at the moment that he cracked his knuckles.  

‘Natasha,’ Y/N said with a small voice. ‘Can you zoom in on his right hand?’ 

Natasha zoomed in and Y/N sighed. A ring was visible on his pointer finger.  

‘Fuck,’ Y/N cursed. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ 

Natasha gave her a funny look. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘I spoke to him twice,’ she said and she put her hand against her forehead. ‘Tony also spoke to him. How didn’t we see it?’ 

‘Maybe it was in the time that we -’ Tony started, but he stopped talking when he realized that he couldn’t say what happened in the hallway.  

Natasha and Clint raised their eyebrows, but Tony shook his head.  

‘It also could have been the time that we split apart for the second time,’ Y/N tried to save them. 

‘Okay, but do you know who this man is?’ Clint asked warily.  

‘John Wick,’ both Y/N and Tony said. Y/N shrugged and Tony seemed to get a little bit jealous again.  

‘Yeah, but do you know who he is?’ Clint asked again. ‘Do you know what kind of man he is?’ 

‘It seems like you,’ Tony sassed. ‘Do you know the man, Romanoff?’ 

‘Nope,’ Natasha commented, and she looked at Clint. 

‘How can you not know this man?’ the archer exclaimed. ‘John Wick is one of the most famous hitmen in New York. He works for an organization that is involved with literally everything. They control the police and they have ties with every mob. And he is their hitman. He tried to stop a couple of years again, but he had to return. He is very lethal, and they say that he killed two men in a bar with only a pencil. A pencil!’ 

Natasha was impressed, while Y/N was a little bit shocked. That man that she met was a hitman?  

‘We have to discuss this with the others,’ Tony sighed, he too was surprised.  

Clint took his seat behind the wheel and he started the van. ‘Steve, Sam and Bruce left for a mission of their own, but they will be back tomorrow afternoon. We can schedule a meeting then.’ 

‘What?’ Y/N said. ‘No! This can’t wait until tomorrow. We have to do something now. Can’t we track his phone?’ 

‘Yes, we could, but we don’t have his phone number and we need to discuss this with the other Avengers,’ Tony told her, and he gave her a stern look.  

‘I have his number,’ Y/N challenged him. ‘He gave me his business card.’ 

All the heads turned to Y/N. The young woman raised her eyebrows and she fished the card from her purse. Natasha tried to snatch it from her hand, but Y/N withdrew her hand.  

Tony sighed. ‘I get it. But we can not just do something. We have to be rational.’ 

Y/N pursed her lips together and she made a ball of her fists. ‘Fine.’ 

The young woman took the seat next to Clint. She turned the volume of the radio higher and she looked out of the window, while she twirled the card in her hand.  

 A couple of minutes later, they arrived at the Tower. They unloaded the van and they made their way to the top floor of the building. Natasha and Clint were casually talking to each other and Y/N tried to talk to Tony, but he gave her short answers, or he even ignored her.  

With a sigh she dumped her stuff in the meeting room. ‘Good night, everyone. I will see you tomorrow.’ 

‘Y/N,’ Natasha said, but Y/N already left the room.  

She slammed the door shut and stomped away. Clint and Natasha were surprised, so they glanced at Tony. Something must have happened between the two of them.  

‘What happened?’ Clint asked Tony.  

‘What do you mean?’ Tony said, while dodging their looks.  

‘You turned your comms off at one point,’ Natasha stated, and she leant against the door. ‘What happened between you and Y/N?’ 

‘Nothing,’ he said, and he sat down.  

‘Really?’ Natasha said unamused and she folded her arms. ‘That doesn’t sound like nothing and Y/N storming away doesn’t look like nothing.’ 

‘Just forget it,’ Tony muttered, and he buried his head in his hands.  

‘You got jealous again,’ Clint guessed, observant as always. ‘All three of us know that there is something going on between the two of you. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But I bet you got jealous.’ 

‘She got feelings for you, you know,’ Natasha told him before she left him alone.  

Clint patted Tony’s shoulder and he too left.  

 The next morning, Y/N stayed in bed longer then normally. Wanda brought her breakfast and they ate it together. After a while, the redhead left, and Y/N was alone again. She couldn’t focus on anything, except for tracing John Wick. His business card was laying on her desk and she kept looking at it. Y/N couldn’t believe that she had to wait until this afternoon before they could take action. She already knew that Steve wanted to do this the “right” way.  

Y/N stepped out of bed and took her laptop. She couldn’t wait. And besides that, how hard would it be to track John’s phone? So that’s what she did. She typed away on her laptop and then she waited. A system on her laptop was doing tests and all she could do was wait.   In the meantime, she went to the gym to train a bit and to empty her head. She was a bit upset about her and Tony. They never made it exclusive and yet he was treating her like they are a couple. So why was he so mad about her flirting with John? Why was he so mad that John asked her to go out for a drink? Why – and then a new idea hit her. She punched the punching ball with one final hit and then she ran back to her room.  

John his business card was still on her desk and her phone was charging. She picked both up and she dialed his number. It rang a couple of times, before she heard his voice. 

‘Hello?’ she heard him say.  

‘John?’ Y/N asked. ‘Hi, it’s Y/N... from the exhibition yesterday?’ 

John laughed. ‘Y/N, of course, I remember you. I was afraid that you wouldn’t call. How are you?’ 

‘I’m good,’ she replied. ‘Just working. How are you?’ 

‘I’m also good,’ John said. ‘I just scheduled a meeting with my boss.’ 

‘Oh...’ Y/N muttered. Shit, there goes her plan. ‘For today?’ 

‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘For tomorrow. Why?’ 

She laughed softly. ‘Well, I was wondering... maybe we could go for that drink tonight?’ 

‘Yeah, that’s sounds great,’ John told her. ‘But I don’t feel like going out. Would you mind if we did it at my place? The drinks?’ 

Y/N wanted to do a victory dance. This conversation went exactly as planned, maybe even better. ‘No, that’s is fine! Really.’ 

‘Great,’ John answered. ‘I will text you my address. Be here around 10?’ 

‘I will,’ Y/N promised and she smiled. ‘Bye, John.’ 

‘See you tonight, Y/N,’ he said and then he hung up.  

Y/N squealed and she clapped in her hands.  

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

In the Company of Anne Sexton

PART THREE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: plentiful pop culture references, mentions of violence, a slow burn at its core

Word Count: 3K

Summary: After a fist-fight, Jess invites himself on a carriage ride with Ella during the Bracebridge Dinner.

Thumbing through one of her most beloved copies of Virginia Woolf, Ella sat on the steps of Stars Hollow High waiting anxiously for Lane to emerge. They walked out most every day, with Lane on her way home and Ella on her way to the diner, but Lane had informed her during lunch she would have to stop by the cheerleading coach’s room for some secret business. Ella didn’t bother asking any questions, having seen the rabid excitement in Lane’s eyes. She had a feeling she would get let in on whatever was going on soon enough. Maybe even that evening, as she, Rory, Lane, and Lorelai had their annual viewing of It’s A Wonderful Life planned. Then, possibly, Die Hard. Usually, though, they just ended up talking through Bruce Willis’ quest. Snow blanketed the ground, but had grayed in the two days since it had fallen. There had been no melt, and street sweepers had cast it off in large, rocky clumps. Ella wondered at how magical snow looked falling, and what a nuisance it became in its aftermath. Like the happiness of a new marriage and the pain of a divorce. She was just getting to one of her favorite passages in To the Lighthouse when she heard the roar of a crowd growing on the lawn before her.

Looking up with curious hazel eyes, she found a group circling two boys in the midst of a fist fight. She only needed a moment longer to identify Jess as the aggressor in the center of the swarm of teens, though the other boy was holding his own perfectly well. Without thinking, she shoved her book in her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and running over, careful not to slip on the icy patches in her black Doc Martens.

“Jess!” she called, pushing her way through the hoard of pubescent teens. Obviously, she got no response, but that wasn’t exactly the intent of the exclamation in the first place. Her feet carried her farther into the brawl before her mind could stop them, and soon enough she had Jess by the shoulders, pulling him away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

He squirmed in her grasp, wondering who’d had the nerve to touch him. Eventually she took him around the waist and pried him away from his opponent, who was panting and bleeding from one lip. The crowd began to dissipate almost instantly, victims of a short attention span, though a few stragglers remained. Ella’s heart pounded in her chest and she felt a little sick to her stomach at the sight of the violence. Her veins buzzed with adrenaline, though she had only been involved in a small fraction of the action.

“Get off me!” Jess yelled, still not entirely sure who had grabbed him, but able to deduce it was a girl from the height and the feminine quality of the voice. When he fought though, the rest of the world usually became nothing more than a blur but the person in front of him.

When they were far enough away from the other guy and she felt mostly confident the incident was over, she finally released him, though he was larger than her and she had been hanging on by a thread anyway.

“Jesus, Jess!” she shouted when he finally turned around to look at her.

“Eleanor?” he asked, shocked to find her there.

A startling anger raged in his eyes. What concerned her more, though, was the bruise already blooming on the apple of his cheek and his bloodied knuckles. The dichotomy before her had her stomach doing flips. She’d heard plenty about this side of Jess, but had never had the misfortune of seeing it before. His hair was mussed up, and his lips were pressed in a thin line. The smirk she always found was gone, as was the joking air in his voice.

She went against her better judgement and took a step forward, eyes on his injuries.

“Back off!” Jess snapped immediately, beginning to leave. She recoiled at his volume.

But, her voice followed him up the road as he made his way for Luke’s. He hoped to sneak past his uncle without having to endure an interrogation. “I’m trying to help you, jackass! What the hell was that?!”

“Peter Smith’s an asshole, that’s what that was! Now, I suggest you run along!”

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, Jess, you don’t get to walk away from me! Rory just reamed you for that stunt you pulled at Doose’s! I thought you were gonna get it together for Luke!”

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint!” Jess roared, winded but maintaining his fury.

As she swallowed down her irritation, the redness began to drain from her face. She knew it was no use to argue with him when he was in such a fiery state. For a minute, she debated leaving, going back to find Lane as she planned. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and spoke again in a calm, resigned tone.

“Jess, stop.”

He whipped around to face her again, pulling his arm back from her grasp, hiding a wince at the throbbing pain in his raw knuckles. “Don’t touch me right now!”

Ella held her hands up in surrender instantly, though she stood firm. “Okay. I’m sorry. But you’re not gonna get past Luke like this, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re gonna need to at least cool off a little first.”

Sighing through his nose, he stayed silent. At that moment, it was as good as a verbal concession or agreement. He was just beginning to catch his breath, his pulse thumping loudly in his ears.

“You wanna go get some ice? I’m sure the nurse has some,” she offered, and Jess felt his confusion growing at her kindness.

He shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets despite the pain. “No.”

“Alright. Look, I’ll go clock in. I’ll tell Luke you had some test to make up or something. Go fix yourself up somewhere and you might be able to fool him,” she suggested, working out the kinks inside her head. Luke was a good guy, but he wasn’t the most observant person she knew. She suspected if Jess could get the bleeding to stop he might get by unscathed. Though she was more doubtful about the bruise on his cheek, she decided it was better for Jess to be placated before he returned to work anyway.

Jess nodded as Ella turned back to go find Lane. She felt slightly better, but still a little anxious about the possibility of a fight between Jess and Luke which still remained. It was one thing to work with them when they were at their usual level of bickering. She didn’t know if she could handle an entire shift of them screaming at each other.

“Thank you,” Jess muttered when she turned on her heel, only just loud enough for her to hear.

She sighed a little in relief, tossing a glance at him over her shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

.   .   .

Ella licked the last bit of melted marshmallow from her thumb, having eaten more than a few of the s’mores they had prepared with skewers over the stove burner. Instead of Die Hard, they had elected for the 1950s version of A Christmas Carol. They were watching as the ghost of Christmas future showed Scrooge his own grave. Lorelai sat above her on the couch, french-braiding her hair, while Lane and Rory shared a bag of chips on the floor next to her. Ella loved the Gilmore house, with its homey decor and welcoming atmosphere. Many times, she envied Rory for the kind of mother she had. All times, Ella felt more love in the Gilmore house than in the Stevens house.

“What do you want written or your gravestone?” Lane asked, her eyes trained on the screen, the picture reflecting back on her glasses.

Humming thoughtfully, Ella went with the first idea that popped in her head: “Here lies Ella Stevens, soon to become the world’s best ghost.”

“An award-winning haunter,” Lorelai quipped.

“My biggest, most long-term ambition,” Ella agreed. Soon, her hair was done and Lorelai tied it off with a proud smile.

“Okay, Rapunzel, my work here is complete,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Well, now that that’s over with, let’s hear it,” Lane demanded, turning at a ninety degree angle to face Ella expectantly.

Ella furrowed her brows. “What?”

“What happened with Jess? You yelled at each other in the courtyard today, right?” Rory asked.

“Nothing happened,” she assured them. “I simply suggested he could wait for his knuckles to clot before he tried to fly under Luke’s radar. Unfortunately, it was an uphill battle. Once he saw his purple cheek, Luke dragged him up to the apartment by his collar. But, he was back down in one piece fifteen minutes later. Wasn’t too catastrophic.”

“That kid is bad news,” Lorelai groaned, shaking her head. “He’s got Sid Vicious written all over him.”

Scoffing, flopped down on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. “Really? I see him more as a Richard Hell type.”

“Well, that makes me feel better,” Lorelai mocked. “I’m serious, Ella, that is a screwed-up, angry kid. The vandalism, the fighting. He touches a hair on your head, and I will personally organize a whole torches and pitchforks event.”

“We can make it like a parade,” Rory suggested cheerfully. “And then Dean can punch him as a big finale. They can’t stand each other.”

“You guys have gotta calm down. We work together, that’s all,” she reasoned. “I only helped him out to avoid a major migraine. The grunting I’ve gotten used to, but man when Luke gets going…”

“Tell me about it,” Lorelai grumbled. “Just promise me you won’t be wooed by that unwashed miscreant.”

Rolling her eyes at the dramatics, raising her right hand and holding down her pinky with her thumb. “Scout’s honor.”

.   .   .

Twirling her key ring around her finger once for good luck, Ella made her way up the path to the Independence Inn, Doc Martens crunching through the packed white snow. The storm had come and gone, but the damage was done all over New England. The fancy invitees for the annual Bracebridge Dinner were snowed in, so Ella had the pleasure of being invited in their place. She was almost excited, having the opportunity to dress up and her old junker out, since she usually walked everywhere. Opening the giant french doors, she was enveloped in the Inn’s warmth, and she could smell the extravagant dinner cooking already. It made her stomach growl. Her cheeks pinked up pleasantly, and she shed her peacoat almost immediately. She smoothed down the front of her simple black dress, stealthily looking at her patterned tights to make sure they hadn’t sustained any runs or rips since she’d donned them an hour earlier. So far, she’d been successful.

“Ella!” Rory greeted her cheerfully, her voice like a bell chiming in the busy noises around them.

“Ah, it’s been so long!” Ella joked, rushing up to Rory and Lorelai, giving them hugs.

“So, no plus ones I take it?” Lorelai asked, looking at the girl who stood with only the shoulder bag she used to carry school books and her jacket in one of her hands.

Ella smiled thinly, shaking her head. A bashful lilt came into her voice. “No, I invited them. My little brother actually was gonna come and then this afternoon...”

“Well, that just means no one will be hogging you tonight!” Lorelai cut in, sunshine in her voice. It made Ella’s smile grow wider and into one more genuine.

.   .   .

Descending the stairs after unpacking in her room, she caught sight of most everyone else arriving. She had the habit of being early to everything. Equipped with only her jacket in her arms, which included a volume of Anne Sexton poetry in one of the pockets, she felt a wave of anxiety. It wasn’t exactly shyness, only uneasiness. It seemed everyone in the room had a partner, but she’d come alone. There were two beds in her room, and one would remain entirely untouched. Not that bringing Adam along was the ideal situation anyway, her little brother had actually become kinda funny after entering middle school. He wouldn’t have been the worst possible company. In a crowd full of friends and family, she felt so utterly alone.

Lane arrived eventually, along with her mother. Mrs. Kim was not the biggest fan of Ella, what with her dark makeup and clothing, her unsavory homelife. Over the years, however, she’d earned a bit more credit with Lane’s mother due to her grades and time working at the diner. Ella marveled at the beautiful floral arrangements and mahogany adornments, wandering around mostly silent while Rory and Lorelai rushed around, finalizing things and greeting people. Her eyes roamed over the crowd, and she spotted Luke and Jess arriving at the door. Jess’s big brown eyes caught her own. He offered her a teasing wave, and she smirked in response, nodding a little. After a moment under his gaze, she let her eyes fall as her cheeks warmed, and she felt at the chain around her neck as a reflex.

.   .   .

Sniffing slightly in the frigid air, Ella bit her lip as she ran her eyes over the familiar words of Sexton’s poetry, waiting as the many carriages of horses peeled away. Watching Rory squish into a carriage with Dean and his little sister had been entertaining, but she had felt some shameful envy nonetheless. The seat next to her just looked so empty. But she only sighed, turning back to her reading after marveling at the beauty of the sparkly, frozen nature around her. In all honesty, she had no interest in going on a pathetic carriage ride alone, but Rory and Lorelai had gone to so much trouble, who was she to deny the opportunity? She barely noticed when the horses began trotting along, the winter wonderland of Stars Hollow passing her slowly.

“Eleanor!” she heard, jumping slightly but rolling her eyes. There was pretty much only one person in Stars Hollow who called her by her full name. Before she could even look to see his face, Jess hopped in the carriage from the side, nearly stumbling but ending up impossibly smooth.

“What the hell, Jess?!” she exclaimed, marking her place in her book with an old receipt from Doose’s.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?” he drawled, cracking his usual crooked smirk.

Sighing, Ella mirrored his smile in spite of herself, running a nervous hand through the ends of her hair. “No, actually, I don’t think that’s a requirement.”

“Exactly. It’s one of many perks of associating with me.” Jess put on thick gray gloves as they spoke.

She scoffed. “Yes, I’m so honored, Mariano.”

“You should be.”

Ella chuckled breathily, clearing her throat as a pause stood between the two of them. Her eyes lingered on the bruise on his cheek, nearly invisible, having yellowed over the three days since he’d sustained it.

“Pretty, aren’t I?” he asked.

She blushed, looking away as her face dropped. “Sorry.”

Jess furrowed his brows, losing his teasing air. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Nodding, she sat up straighter and trained her view on the scenery.

“Look, I didn’t mean to scare you the other day,” he said, tilting his head to try to catch her eyes again.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t...you don’t scare me,” she assured him, forcing her tone to remain light. She felt as though they might be dancing around a forbidden subject, she just didn’t know what it was.

“Okay. Didn’t mean to be presumptuous,” he said, leaning back in the cushioned seat of the carriage. The clomping of the horses hooves offered a rhythmic undercurrent to their conversation, soft but constant.

Raising her eyebrows, she finally turned back to him. “Well, you didn’t mean to be presumptuous but you were still being presumptuous.”

“Alright, sorry,” he said, slightly huffy, eyes wide and gloved hands raised in surrender.

“Apology accepted.”

“I’m happy we sorted that out, then.” His tone was dejected but she didn’t let it rile her.

“Me too,” she breathed slowly, watching a white cloud form in the air with her words.

Regarding her as she turned away again, Jess tasted the crisp frost of the wind.  One side of her hair was pinned back, the rest cascading down her shoulder. She wore dark eye makeup and something shiny on her lips. But still, she was bundled in her old black peacoat. It reminded him of the beatniks. All she needed were big square glasses. He noticed how thin her stockings were, how she lacked gloves or a scarf or a hat. Just looking at her made him unconsciously.

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked. “Anne Sexton keeping you company?”

“I am. And she is. Did Luke drag you along?”

Jess shrugged. “Sort of. It’s better than a night of scraping greasy plates at the diner.”

“What high standards you have,” she said. “Are you scraping plates over winter break or are you going back to New York?”

“My mom didn’t want me up there,” he said nonchalantly.

“She said that to you?” she asked, eyebrows raised angrily.

They were passing the town square, decorated with snowmans for the town competition. At night, to Ella, they looked like the blue ghosts in a Charles Dickens story.

“Luke told me it was his idea that I should stay. It wasn’t his idea.”

Humming in irritated acknowledgement, she crossed her arms tighter around herself. Her ears were going numb in the icy winter breeze. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be at work everyday the next two weeks, silently protesting everyone else’s holiday cheer. You’re welcome to join.”

Jess smiled. “Will there be complaints of all the noise, noise, noise?”

“Every year.” She nodded in commiseration, a sardonic twinkle in her eye.

“Looking forward to it.”

[florcnces]

HEY HENS ! my name’s nat & today i present to you the one, the only ... ms florence ! under the cut you’ll find a few bits & pieces i’ve come up w/ so far just so ... u kno ... we can plot or whateva 😏😏😏so if u want me to shower you w/ love, feel free to drop a big, fat LIKE or im me 😏😏😏also ... if u read this thru u will notice that ... i gave up somewhere in the middle of it ...

new york’s very own 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐃 was spotted on broadway street in 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐀'𝐒  𝐁𝐁𝐒 . your resemblance to 𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘  𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐘 is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 , but also 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 . i guess being a 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋  𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 ,  𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐄 - 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒  &  𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 - 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒  𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄 . ( i seduced the director to get my first big movie role. )  &  ( cis-gendered female & she / her  ) 

𝐢. 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐬 

name : florence noel brassard

dob / age : may 22nd, 1996 / twenty - two

hometown : paris , france

occupation : actress

aesthetics : pearl necklaces , femme-fatale movies , half-used bottles of perfume , lavender bouquets & satin sheets

positive traits : nurturing , logical , self-motivated , thoughtful 

negative traits : vengeful , scornful , two-faced , devious 

likes :  morning runs , feeling accomplished , freckles , seltzer water , blueberry yogurt , random picnics

dislikes : not getting attention , impulsive decisions , being late , not taking care of herself , mess all over the place , loud voices

𝐢𝐢. 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 

baby florence was born & raised in new york city and was immediately thrown into the world of luxury - there literally was no other outcome when your parents appeared to be, like, one of the most powerful couple in the fashion industry, owning a huge chunk of loewe, lv, berluti and etc (so basically think like antoine arnault & natalia vodianova as her parents ... thnx xxxx)

with everything being handed to the girl on a silver platter, flo’s childhood was as boring as it could be. ‘ want to attend ballet classes? we’ll arrange private ones for you with the nycb principals.’ / ‘ can’t find a dress for the event we’re throwing? here’s five custom gowns to choose from, honey. ’ / ‘ there’s a scratch on your shoes; here’s a credit card, go buy yourself three new pairs. ’ / so, basically, tl;dr, they spoiled her ROTTEN

not gonna like, flo had a phase of being a bratty, greedy & ungrateful bih at the age of 13-15 because of the people she surrounded herself with & in order to fit in, she had to have like the best of the best. tho it wasn’t like she hadn’t had any of those things already - she just started taking advantage of her parents’ generosity. it took cutting her allowance down to the minimum for a few months and a few serious conversations to get a confession out of florence and to get her to understand that people should consider your their friends for your personality and not your bank account. so basICALLY she loves her parents v v v much & treasures the relationship they built over the years.

by the time she finished high school, she was v much set on the idea of creating a name for herself. starting a business wasn’t an option bc of how influential her parents were; sports weren’t an option either bc she didn’t have any exceptional talents (fun fact: she tried out for the cheerleading team for 3 yrs in a row only to not make the cut every single time which led to her crying at lunch ... ): #poorbby). being an influencer didn’t sound right to her either, so she went with the option that probably fit her the most - the julliard ! 

it was quite hard getting in there, mostly due to the fact that people there didn’t exactly understand why florence wanted to get into acting. it wasn’t like she needed any additional buzz to her name or more a-list events to be in attendance of, so she did have to prove that she was noth talented & sincerely interested in pursuing the career. however, it wasn’t the hardest thing she had to do to actually become the person she is today.

studying at the julliard wasn’t enough bc it didn’t make it any easier for flo to get a role. she tried her absolute damndest, used every connection she had -- yet, nothing was working. & since going to her papa for her was in no way, shape or form an option, she resorted to the worst.

bc she knew her mother was always in charge of organizing charity galas and whatnot, florence made sure to check out a list of invitees and, much to her sheer luck, she found a few familiar names of actresses and directors who rsvp’d to the event already. the night of the gala was spent with florence circling the room, looking and acting as gorgeous and charming as ever, but nothing seemed to be working bc everyone were either uninterested or just wanted her to get their name to her parents (& that wasn’t an option). however, at the end of the night she found the one. the one who lit up her star.

she didn’t go into it without thinking all of her options. she spent weeks flitring w/ the guy, going on dates and accepting gifts - everything to make it seem as if she was truly interested in him as a person. she laughed at his jokes, enjoyed his embraces - at some point, she even felt as if she could actually end up loving him. however, the moment he offered her the role of her life (plS one day i’ll actually properly headcanon that ish ... but not rn i proMISE!), whatever feelings (or whatever resembled them ...) immediately vanished.

so ! currently bby florence is basking in the newfound limelight and making sure to move further in her career... without having to resort to seducing middle-aged dudes... :-)

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 

florence, like i said, isn’t exactly a multi-talented skinny legend. yea, she’s decent at skating, somewhat good at singing, is quite beautiful - nothing out of the ordinary, hence why she sometimes struggles with her confidence. and by sometimes i mean A LOT of times. but if u think she’d ever show it U R SO WRONG BABE. usually whenever she falls into her self-called pit of uncertainty and lack of confidence, florence resorts to dressing up as nicely as she can and going to the first bar that comes to her head to get a drink and attract as much attention as she can. 

she also finds comfort in cooking. sure, with her daddy’s money she could eat out for breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between,  but there’s something incredibly comforting in taking the time to cook something for herself. besides, she is very fond of the memories of her mother teaching her how to cook. and the times they’ve accidentally burned the food bc they were too busy talking abt random things :’) like bby can actually make a MEAN kedgeree !!!

since her father is french and her mother is american, florence is bilingual. she prefers speaking french over english purely bc of the beauty of the language, so sometimes she might just switch languages mid-sentence.

florence is also ambidextrous due to the fact that she broke her arm when she was 7 and had to wear a cast for a longer period of time since the bones couldn’t heal properly :-)

also ... v much a dog person. like, cats? EW, don’t talk to her. don’t even think of calling her KITTEN bc u will ... get ur ass handed to u

always and i mean ALWAYS !!!! wears a pearl necklace on her neck that her father gave her for her 18th birthday. and just hella obsessed w/ pearls and flowers. iDK why she just is ...

𝐢𝐯. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

obv !!! a best friend ? like, that typical ride-or-die situation where they wouldn’t hesitate to catch the bullet for the other person

maybe a friend / some friends from high school ? either they were the ones pressuring flo to take advantage of finer things and daddy’s money or ... flo could have left them for those ppl

a rival ... who had their eyes on the role florence landed ... and now there’s just a ton of anger and distaste towards each other

exes / one night stands / flirtations ... :-)

[i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle]

Chapter 10: Dragon Love

Spike’s first stop when he went out of the castle was to the post office, where he goes to meet up with a new friend, Gabby the griffon. Perhaps one of the few overexcitable griffons ever. Their friendship managed to make Rarity a bit jealous of Gabby, but in the end they learned to share their time with Spike.

Spike: Hi Gabby!

Gabby: Oh hi Spike! How’s my favorite little scarred, but still adorable dragon doing?

Spike: Pretty good! I actually came over if you were interested in going with me, my mother, and all our friends friends to Saddle Arabia to see a Royal Ball. There will be plenty of entertainment, food, and friends both new and old to mingle with.

Gabby: Sure thing, Spike! Sounds like a good time!

The steps of hooves are heard from behind the desk. It’s the town mailmare, Derpy Hooves.

Derpy: Both of you going to the ball, too? Awesome!

Spike: Oh hey Derpy! Did you want an invite too?

Derpy: Oh, I actually happened to come across Rainbow Dash before I went into work today! So I’ve already been invited. But I still appreciate it, Spike!

Spike: Very nice! It’ll be great seeing both of you there! I need to head off to find a few more friends I want to invite, but I’ll catch both of you later!

Gabby: Alright, Spike! Seeya!

Spike leaves the post office while waving back to Gabby and Derpy.

Spike: Alright next stop, Thorax’s changeling hive…

Spike gets out his own pack of portal gum to travel to see his friend Thorax. Once just a normal changeling that was discovered in the Crystal Empire by Spike who defected from Chrysalis’ rule and would later help Starlight, Trixie, and Discord defeat Chrysalis. And then showed many others in the Changeling army another way for them to live instead of dependent on invasions to feed on love. The Changelings quickly became a sovereign kingdom of their own.

Spike walks near the hive, Changeling guards recognize him and acknowledge him as a friend of Thorax’s and allow Spik to pass to see him. Eventually he reaches Thorax’s throne.

Spike: Hey there, Thorax!

Thorax: Hello Spike! It’s been a while since we talked just the two of us, what brings you to the hive?

Spike: I just came over to invite you and any of the other changelings here craving some real love, cause in Saddle Arabia there will be a Royal Ball that precedes a Wedding for two of me and Twilight’s friends who live there! Both events are sure to have plenty of love to go around whether it’s friends with friends, family with family, and relationships old and new coming together! And that’s before the actual wedding!

Thorax’s mouth just starts drooling

Thorax: Oh wow… two events full of scrumptious love we can get our fill just by sitting around all the love that will be in the air?! You bet that I’ll go! Is it ok if I bring along some of our hungrier citizens that could use a boost?

Spike: Of course! I definitely wouldn’t want to deprive any of your subjects, if they really want a piece of the love that is sure to be everywhere!

Spike and Thorax go around the hive inviting any changelings that want to come to, as obviously this event is going to have enough love to perhaps fill these changelings for maybe a week or even more. If they decline, they likely know they’ll have their fill for one reason or another anytime close to the time the ball might start, Thorax’s brother Pharyanx among them. Otherwise, they could usually tell who wants to go for if they drooled or flicked their tongues just imagining all the love they could get.

Ocellus: Oh my gosh, I absolutely must go! I have been quite starving as of late…

Spike: Don’t forget Ocellus, your friends from School should be there as well. In fact, I plan to get Smoulder too, when I head on over to the Dragonlands. I think my pony friends will get the rest.

Ocellus: Oh yes, absolutely will be nice to see my friends there too! So much love and friendship to go around! I can’t wait!

In a few short moments, they’ve gone though the whole hive and determined who wanted to go and who didn’t.

Thorax: Thank you for telling us about this, Spike! You will help a lot of our citizens, plus we should have a great time aside from our love feast we’re sure to get!

Spike: No problem, Thorax! It’ll be great to see you there. For now though, I’m heading off to the Dragonlands for my final stop, before settling down for whenever my mom says it’s time.

Thorax: Ok Spike, tell Ember and Smoulder I said hi!

Spike: I will! Bye!

((Story continues after the break))

Spike waves off to Thorax before creating another gum portal, this time to the Dragonlands. He’s still become too accustomed to Equestria, but the Dragonlands is still his species’ home. So Spike always gets to have a dose of his heritage every time he comes over. Spike doesn’t plan on leaving Equestria, even when he’s a super huge adult (And he and Twilight have already discussed how that will go, probably will take a little bit of Genie magic to make it work but that is a very, very, very long time from now, so it’s not exactly a subject that comes up often between the two). But as perhaps the first dragon to grow up in Equestria he’s very much an ambassador to Dragons who may themselves want to move into Equestria, though mainly the smaller ones since if too many big ones come in, there will be problems like when a red dragon sleeping made smoke that was polluting Ponyville, and it took him learning what Fluttershy’s stare could do in order to get him to leave. Not to mention the large size of the big dragons tend to cause a panic in fear-stricken populaces.

Spike flies around the skies of the Dragonlands until he finally catches a glimpse of Smoulder. Which then he swoops down to catch up to.

Spike: Hey Smoulder!

Smoulder: Heeeeeeyyyyyy! Sup’ Spike! Come here to toughen yourself a bit, in the Dragonlands?

Smoulder gives Spike an affectionate punch in the shoulder

Spike: Ouch!

Smoulder: Oops, sorry

Spike: It’s alright, I know that’s your way of saying hi, sometimes. But anyway, I came to invite you somewhere. Your other friends in school will be there as well, I just got done with a visit to the Changeling hive and Ocellus will be going. My pony friends will probably be getting the rest.

Smoulder: Where are all of you going?

Spike: Saddle Arabia, a Royal Ball is being held as well a wedding between two friends of me and my Mom’s who live there.

Smoulder: Hahahaha, no wonder Ocellus is going. She’s going to get the biggest love feast she’s had in a little while!

Spike: Yeah, probably ha. But do you think YOU will go.

Smoulder: Eh, kinda sounds a little too lovey-dovey. But maybe I should go for a chance to hang out with my school friends at least.

Spike: There should be plenty of food as well as entertainment as well. So even if you’re not exactly into any of the love stuff happening, it’s still mainly just a party.

Smoulder: True, I could probably enjoy just going anticipating a big party... So sure, I’ll go!

Spike: Great! Now I only need one more invitee, and I think I’ll see if Ember’s able to go. You have any idea where she is?

Smoulder: I think Lord Ember is meeting with her father, former Lord Torch in their volcano home.

Spike: Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen their volcano home. Can you take me there?

Smoulder: Sure! Just follow me!

Smoulder jumps up in the air to start flying, Spike following as well through the air., until they finally get to a humongous volcano that definitely looks like Torch, and probably Ember too once she’s as big as her father many thousands of years from now could fit in. Spike and Smoulder approaching a cave near the bottom of the volcano.

Spike: Is this an active volcano?

Smoulder: You bet it is! But when it erupts, that only means it’s shower time for ol’ Torch

Spike: This place definitely isn’t a place anyone other then Dragons want to approach then, that’s for certain.

Smoulder: I guess if any ponies wanted to try visiting they’d probably need some sort of heat shield spell or wish from your genie mother. Otherwise yeah, this is a pretty dragons-only spot. But only for the safety of non-dragons, we swear.

Spike and Smoulder head into the cave, the cave is actually pretty hot. It’d probably be unbearable for any ponies without some sort of magic heat suppressor around them to just walk in this place, even besides the fact it’s a volcano that could spew out deadly lava and suffocating ash at any moment. But for dragons like Torch, it’s an atmosphere they revel in. Dragons after all treat lava simply like a hot sauna, and the smoke just brings the lovely smell (At least, in a typical dragon’s opinion) of ash and sulfur.

Eventually they get to the center of the volcano where they can see the towering Torch and his daughter Ember. The current and the former Dragon Lords.

Spike: Hey… er… Ember and Torch!

The two look over to see they have visitors in the small dragon that was born and still chooses to live in Equestria, and another who happens to be the representative in the Friendship school.

Ember: Ahhhh! Hello both of you! Spike, this is the first time I’ve seen you go as far to see us at our home! You’ve sure came a long way from Equestria. What’s the occasion?

Spike: I simply went on over to ask if you and Smoulder would like to attend a Royal Ball and wedding between two of my mom and me’s friends. Smoulder already agreed but thought while I’m here I thought I’d extend an invitation. Oh, and Thorax says hi to both you and Smoulder.

Ember: Haha, of course Thorax says hi. If you invited him he was probably drooling for all that love that will be at that event you’re going to. But perhaps for the sake of peaceful diplomacy, I should go. If a Princess like Twilight is going, along with Thorax, I have a feeling others like the Yaks aren’t too far behind.

Spike: I’d ask your father too but er… his size would probably be a problem unless he agrees to being magically shrunk.

Torch: BA HA HA HA HA, it’s ok little Spike. I don’t think I was going to go, anyway. After all, I’m retired now. But I hope you, Lord Ember, and Smoulder have a good time in Saddle Arabia. Show the ponies how dragons can really light up a party!

Spike: Uh, I hope you aren’t telling us to light the palace on fire.

Torch: Nah, I promise it was just the expression.

Spike: *phew* I guess while I’m here, anything going on lately here? Equestria will always be my home, but as a dragon I guess I should still keep up with anything going on here. You’re the current and former Dragon Lord’s. I imagine you two talk about this nation a lot.

Ember: Heh, maybe a little. But this is our home, usually we just jokingly rib at each other between just us as father and daughter. We sometimes talk about our politics, but things are usually stable when you have one leader promised in power for tens of thousands of years and a general populace that generally remains for themselves with their own stash of treasures.

Torch: Yeah, in fact after I’ve retired I’ve simply been just reflecting about my long reign and the many, many, many, many mates I’ve had over my era.

Spike: Wait… did you say many mates?

Ember: Oh shoot, that’s right. Spike grew up in Equestria, he doesn’t exactly know how… “relationships” for lack of a better word work in the Dragonlands

Spike: What are you talking about?

Torch: In the Dragonlands, there is no such thing as marriage. Only several mates over our long, long lives.

Spike goes wide-eyed

Spike: SAY WHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!

Ember: Yeaaaaaah… I imagine that must be surprising to anyone who’s mainly experienced life in Equestria. But if you just think about it, most Ponies’ average lifespan is just over 100 years and their regular definition of love is. once they find somepony they love they’ll spend time with them for the rest of their life, barring something happening resulting in divorce, or an unfortunate early death of half of the couple. However, dragons live so long that even if there was a mate a dragon really loved. It might of been perceivably boring at least in our views, to had been with only one. 

Thus, it’s actually pretty normal for both male and female dragons to just move on to a different mate at some point. Sometimes, more then one at one point of time! That’s not even seen as wrong here whether you kept it a secret from your mate(/s) or not. And if for any reason a dragon misses a past mate, absolutely nothing wrong with going to see them again to become mates again, if both consent of course.

Spike just stands there trying to process this information that dragons have a very vastly different outlook on love from the one he was raised to know by ponies.

Ember: We’re just starting to at least have some aspects of Friendship. Is it any surprise that love is a lot different too? We can still love and can get infatuated, such as your crush on that white unicorn. But we never settle down with just one mate throughout our lives. Though forgive me for being grim, but you might actually be kind of thankful that this is normal for dragons. Because even if you get into a relationship with the white unicorn at some point she… won’t exactly be around very long in relative to your long lifetime…

Spike breaking out a bit of his trance of being told how Dragon love works, to look to the side solemnly.

Spike: Yeah, I’m well aware of that… I don’t exactly like talking about it however…

Ember: Well uh… it’s still a little while until then. I don’t mean to get you down, but we’re just teaching you a few things about us that most ponies don’t put in any books about us, since until they actually bring brave enough researchers. Any information they have about us are pretty incomplete or even inaccurate information. It’s possible that pony researchers thought we had lifelong mates if they had noticed a couple once or twice but never actually asked if the couple had ever been married or anything. 

I think at the very least Celestia knew enough about us, but since she sort of kept her policy towards the Dragonlands as leaving us alone. Informing Equestria about how we live never came up as a priority.

But thanks to your pony mother who’ll soon be ruling solo in Canterlot, we’re entering a new era of prosperity between Dragons and Ponies and other species. I’m pretty sure soon we’ll have some updated books about us in the coming years that will make this common knowledge there. You were raised by ponies, but you’re still a dragon. So thought it’d be useful information for you to know

Spike: I gotcha, but still. Can’t help but feel wowed, and almost a little scary of how many I might end up meeting over my life when I’m old enough to start mating.

Ember: Hehehe, you’ll still have that scar of yours, eye scars happen to be a very attractive trait in older dragons cause it’s perceived strength. You’re sure to have a lot of female dragons after you in your older years. Maybe even me and Smoulder at some point

Ember jokingly winks, Smoulder being the rebelllious teenage dragon just gives a “blegh”.

Spike: …Aren’t you and Smoulder both a decent bit of years apart from me?

Ember: I’m mostly joking, but in actuality once both dragons in a couple are about hundreds of years old it’s not considered wrong to go with any dragons whether they’re 100 years older or younger. Again, just think of the difference between Pony and Dragon concepts of time passed. Yes, it’d be wrong right now, but that’s mainly because relative to dragon aging you’re still just about a hatchling. But say in about maybe a decade or two when you’ve grown to early teenage size you may just be young enough to still be ok for Smoulder to be with, if she so wished.

Smoulder: You better not be shipping me with him, or else I don’t care if you’re Dragon Lord. I’ll kick you in the shins!

Ember just laughs.

Spike: I guess I understand, but boy this feels like a lot of odd conversations will come across from all this…

Ember: From a pony perspective, yeah. Dragon’s approach to love is really weird, but some day it’ll be normal to you at some point, I assure you.

Torch suddenly looks a little away from the conversation and thinking a little solemnly. Ember noticing that’s kind of odd for him to do so.

Ember: Huh? Father? What’s up?

Torch: Nothing too big, Ember. Just reflecting on the conversation you just had with Spike and on my own history. Even though yes, I’ve had many, many, many, many mates over my long life. I… admit there may have been one dragon that I was with for only a few years, that if the pony concept of Marriage for a lifetime did exist in the dragonlands. I would of certainly tried to propose at the very least… though I doubt she would of ever accepted it…

Ember: Who was this, Father?

Torch: Her name was Jennesis, though I liked to affectionately call her Jenny. She was a beautiful pink dragon with green back spines. And she was absolutely the most beautiful and kind dragon I ever had the pleasure to live with.

Spike: Is she still around?

Torch: I don’t know, this was a few thousand years ago. And also unfortunately, she probably wouldn’t say the same about me. As I admit unfortunately, I wasn’t exactly as good a mate to her as she was to me. Which is why we were only together for a few years.

Ember: Which in relative lifeline comparison between dragon and ponies, is like a pony relationship ending in at most less then a week...

Spike: Oof

Torch: Yeah… I admit it’s one of the few regrets I otherwise have, of what I otherwise feel was a glorious reign as Dragon Lord. I had many mates before and after Jenny, but none have ever quite matched up to her.

Ember: Dang, not even my mother?

Torch: Your mother was a lovely mate as well Ember. But Jenny was just on a whole ‘nother level.

Spike: Well, this has certainly been an interesting conversation. But if it’s ok, I’m going to start heading back to Equestria. I have everyone I wanted to invite now. But I suppose thanks for teaching me a few more things about being a dragon. I’m sure it’ll be useful information to know in the far future.

Ember: You’re welcome Spike! I’ll see you in Saddle Arabia!

Spike: Bye Ember! Bye Smoulder! Bye Torch!

Spike waves off to all three before using another gum portal to get back to Equestria, where he walks back to Twilight’s castle. All that information Ember and Torch gave him still kind of bouncing in his head as some of it was still a lot to take in. But nonetheless he gets set to just relax until Twilight likely gets back from finishing her own list of invitees.

UP NEXT: Chapter 11 - Celestia’s Secrets, Part 1