#but I realized today that I actually?? am finished building Thoma??

[sakuramoussy]

Would anyone be interested in me showing my Genshin Impact progress? I’ve made it my goal to build every single character across my two accounts, and I’m hoping to make more progress now that I’m unexpectedly off work for an entire week (housemate has covid, my workplace’s policy is I have to quarantine for 10 days for being exposed even though I’m negative. Dw i’m fine and so is my housemate with covid).

I’d be very interested in showing my builds, I had the realization hit me on just how far I’ve actually gotten with what I have been working on with companionship EXP and character builds so I’m just really excited to share. Nobody would be pissed off if I posted them here right? I know this is an art blog but uh. I have virtually no following on Twitter and I’d like to have tags on these anyways so

[hecatemoon87]

Heart to Heart - A Reggie Kray Story

Until he sees her in another man’s arms, will he realize what he’s lost.

Part II - Mended Hearts

Request by @baneofmyexistencee

Time marches on as they say and things are not improving. It has been ten days since I’ve seen Reggie. He’s given me a few quick phone calls here and there. It’s always the same. He promises me he’ll stop over, spend time with me. Or we’ll go to a movie, the theater or the museum. His whole spiel is becoming old hat and I’m becoming tired of it. It really had been so much better when we had first met. We actually did those things, a movie, the theater. I was starting to think that this man was never going to propose to me. In fact, I was pretty sure he was already married to his job. 

The weekend had approached and for the fourth consecutive time, Reggie was too busy to meet me. I decided to go out with my girlfriends instead. We went to a pub in London that would be considered artsy. Many of the students from the university haunted this pub and it provided some stimulating intellectual discussions. There, at the pub, I met Harry. He was good looking, kind and interesting. His personality was the complete opposite of Reggie’s. Harry was a free thinker. He was anti-war, pro-environment and overall anti-establishment. Harry loved art, poetry and literature and he and I spent several hours chatting away about the philosophy of Thomas Hobbs. I was beginning to notice that Harry was filling an emotional void that Reggie had so callously created. We were making an emotional connection and it felt good. 

Upon returning home that evening a wave of guilt washed over me. I sat down on the couch and wondered if that conversation was the equivalent of cheating on Reggie. It wasn’t like Harry and I were out together alone, my friends were at the same table as we were. But I was feeling attracted toward Harry and I knew that I was walking a dangerous line. That night, I made a firm decision to never see Harry again. That I would make it work with Reggie because I loved him. 

The following day I visited Reggie at the club. It was Sunday in the afternoon. The club was closed and only a few goons loitered inside playing cards and drinking. Reggie was in his back office so I knocked on the door. I heard a gruff voice telling me to come inside. I opened the door and Reggie glanced up. I hoped he would have been happy to see me, but his face wore a frown.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sharply. 

He had several open ledgers in front of him. He looked as if he was in the middle of crunching some numbers. I supposed I had interrupted his concentration. 

“I just wanted to check on you,” I said, coming inside and closing the door. 

He returned his gaze to the books and mumbled something incoherent. I walked over and took a seat across from his desk. I waited a few moments before asking a question.

“Do you want to get lunch?” I asked. 

“Can’t,” he said, not looking up.

“How about supper later?” I offered.

Reggie was writing, but he stopped and slammed his fist down on the desk. He looked up in irritation. 

“No, Y/N! Can’t you see I’m bloody busy?!”

I’m shocked by his outburst. I can now see that his eyes are red-rimmed, he looked so tired. 

“Reggie, you should get some rest. I mean, why don’t you just delegate this work out today?” I said. 

He shook his head and returned to working. 

“Reg, I’m serious, why doesn’t Ronnie…” I begin, but I am hashly cut off before I can finish. 

“Fucking hell! If you mention my brother one more bloody time, Y/N, we are fucking through! Do you get me?” he shouted, pointing a finger at me. 

I bit my lip as tears welled up in my eyes. I don’t understand, I’m trying to, but I just don’t. I got up from the chair and rushed out of the building. My heart hurts and I feel more confused than ever. My mother once told me that love can be beautiful, but it also can be tortuous. I didn’t know what she meant until now. 

-----------

It has been three days since Reggie flew off the handle. At first, I wanted to give him space. But then, the resentment began to grow and I just wanted to make him suffer for hurting me so badly. The day after the incident, my phone was ringing off the hook. I refused to answer it, knowing full well Reggie was calling me. Then I had a feeling he would soon visit me at my flat so I decided to pack my bag and stay with my friend for a few days. I really needed to sort my shit out, what was I doing with this man? Why did I still love him so much even though he was actively pushing me away? And why didn’t he just end it already if he was so unhappy with me?

My friend wanted to take my mind off my troubles, so she invited me to a picnic. It was being held at a nearby park. We packed our things for the day and headed over to the park. A few other people were already there setting up and amongst them was Harry. He saw me and waved merrily at me. I blushed and waved back. 

“You see, there are other fish in the sea,” my friend said, nuding me in the ribs. 

“I know…I’m just not ready,” I said as we approached the group. 

We all spend the rest of the sunny afternoon chatting and drinking. It was a lovely day and for a few hours I forgot all about Reggie. That was until a member of our group suddenly asked, “Oh my god, is that Reggie Kray?”

I was sitting beside Harry, I supposed we were close to each other. I was a little drunk, so my inhibitions allowed me to flirt a little with Harry. I could see Reggie, still dressed fully in his black suit trudging up the grassy hill toward our little group. 

“Oh, no,” I whispered, already feeling terribly embarrassed. 

At the bottom of the hill I can see two other cars, each filled with a few of Reggie’s gangsters. Reggie reached the top of the hill, he’s smoking a cigarette and his eyes immediately lock on Harry and I. 

“Afternoon, sorry to interrupt your little party, but can I have a word with,Y/N?” he said, flicking his cigarette ash on the ground. 

My friend must have told Harry what happened between me and Reggie. I never spoke about the fight to anyone but her, so I’m surprised by what Harry says to Reggie. 

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Harry said, getting up from the blanket we’ve placed on the grass. 

Reggie’s eyes flashed over to Harry and he walked up to face him. 

“That's so, huh? And who the fuck are you, mate?” 

“A friend. Y/N, doesn’t need some gangster mucking about in her life,” Harry said. 

“Yeah…so you know who I am then? You think mouthing off to me like that isn’t gonna have any repercussions?” Reggie retorted. 

“Stop, just stop,” I said, getting up and moving between the two men. 

“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble, Y/N. I’ve been looking for you for a week, I’ve been worried,” Reggie said, softly to me. 

“Seems like you already have,” Harry snapped. 

I cringed, knowing that Reggie didn’t like being disrespected in any manner. 

“Shut your fucking mouth, eh? I’m talking to her, not you,” Reggie said, pointing a finger in Harry’s face. 

“Reggie, let’s just go, okay? I’ll talk to you down there,” I said, pointing to the bottom on the hill. 

Reggie’s eyes continued to burrow through Harry. One thing about Reggie, he can appear as many things. Calm, suave and charming. Or on the other hand, down right intense and intimidating. I think Harry was put off by Reggie’s eyes. The pupil in his eye was larger and the intensity of his glare was unsettling. I carefully place a hand on Reggie’s arm and I pray he can see in my eyes that I’m pleading for him to come with me. I’m relieved when he broke eye contact with Harry and looked down at me. 

“Alright, come on then,” Reggie said, turning to return back down the hill. 

Once we are down the hill and out of the eyesight of the group I let Reggie have it.

“What are you doing?! How could you do this?! I’m so bloody embarrassed!” I shouted. 

“You’ve been missing for a week! I thought maybe you got hurt! Do you know how fucking worried sick I’ve been?!” he shouted back. 

“No! You don’t get to blame me for this!” I said, tears starting to form in my eyes. 

I am so angry with him I can’t hold back my tears for much longer. 

“Yeah? And why the fuck not? You could have picked up a phone and called!”

“Really? So you could just threaten to end our relationship if I step out of line again?!” I retorted. 

Reggie seemed to have forgotten about that last bit, I can tell by his silence that was the case. 

“Listen, Y/N, let’s go back to the club, talk this out,” he said, softly. 

I shook my head adamantly. “No, I am sick of your club!”

“Right, fine then, your flat? Anywhere you want, just let’s talk some place else, yeah?”

I’m trembling and tears are wetting my face. Up on the hill, I’m fairly certain my friends can hear the entire argument. I nod without saying a word and Reggie escorts me to one of the cars. The driver takes us back to my flat. Reggie and I both go up to my flat to continue our discussion. I sat down on the couch and he surprised me by going into the kitchen and starting the kettle. He doesn’t come back out until the water has boiled and the tea has seeped. I went to the bathroom to wash my face as I waited for him. When I come back out, two cups of tea are on the coffee table. Reggie looked up expectantly at me as I emerged from the bathroom. I slowly walked over to the couch and sat down as far away as possible from him. 

He frowned, but didn’t comment on my distance. 

“Fuck me,” he whispered and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, alright? But you scared the living hell out of me. I thought someone hurt you.”

I don’t say a word. I just picked up the cup of tea and stared into the murky brown water. 

“Who the fuck is that guy? You’ve…you’ve been seeing him?” Reggie asked. 

I shook my head, a fresh tear appearing and dropping soundlessly into my tea. I’m refusing to look at him, because if I do I’m worried I will fall in love with him all over again. He is quiet and I supposed he was just watching me at the moment. 

“Come on, say something?” he asked. 

“There’s nothing to say, I think…I think it’s broken,” I whispered. 

“What is? What’s broken?” he inquired. 

“Our relationship,” I managed to say before breaking down.  

Immediately he stood up and removed the cup from my hands and then enveloped me into a bear hug. I burrowed my face into his suit, his familiar smell bringing solace to my senses. I gripped him tightly, sobbing into his expensive suit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stroked my hair and hushed me, rocking me slowly in his arms. 

“Shhhh, it’s gonna be fine, love. I’m here, I’m here,” he assured me. “I was a fucking idiot, right? I’m sorry.”

It took me a few minutes to pull myself together, but when I did I looked up at him. I wanted to know, this would be the question and how he answered it would depend on if I stayed with him or not. 

“I want to know about Ronnie. Why does it upset you so much when I talk about him in regards to the work? And I want to know why you’re different now, since you’ve gotten out of prison you’re just so cold now,” I said. 

I honestly thought he’d let go of me and start shouting again about how I should never speak of Ronnie. But again, he surprised me. He continued to hold me close and I can see his face sadden and he actually gripped me tighter. 

“Because…because he fucked it all up,” he said.

I didn’t say a word, I remained silent but my eyes told him that I was listening. I just wanted to give him time to express himself. 

“When I went away, he made a fucking mess. He went off his medication and almost botched the whole business. When I came back, I had a lot of work to do. I still do. But he’s my brother, I don’t wanna hate him, I love him and I just gotta clean up the mess myself…but…it’s hard sometimes,” he said. 

So that’s what was eating him up. He loved Ronnie, wanted to take care of Ronnie. But he couldn’t depend on his brother. From a mix of conflicted emotions, the stress of running a business and responsibility of maintaining a relationship with me, poor Reggie had reached his limit. I didn’t need to ask why he bottled all this up. Reggie was a man’s man. That meant you didn’t complain, you did the work and you carried on. Talking about his pain would have been inmasculine. 

I stroked the side of his face and nodded that I understood him. I gave him a light kiss on his lips and pressed my forehead against his. 

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I thought that maybe you just didn’t want to be with me anymore,” I said. 

“No, that’s not true. I need you, I do. If you leave…I got nothing to keep me together,” he said. 

Suddenly he got up from the couch and crouched down in front of me. He grasped my hands together and looked me squarely in the eyes. 

“That bloke…you aren’t leaving me for him are you?”

“What? No, no,” I said, removing my hands from his and cupping his face. 

“Good, he looked like a fucking hippie,” Reggie said. 

I couldn’t help but laugh and I am enjoying the fact that he was jealous of Harry. 

“He’s an intellectual, not a hippie,” I corrected him.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking like him,” Reggie said. 

He shook his head as if he was going off topic. 

“Nevermind, look, I don’t have it on me, but, uh, I wanna ask anyway. Not like how I planned, but I don’t want you running back to that wanker. Will you marry me?” Reggie asked, hesitantly. 

I blinked, completely thrown off guard by his question. In fact, I’m not entirely certain I heard him correctly.

“What?” I asked.

“Will you marry me?” he asked again. 

“Yes, yes, why did it take you this long, yes!” I said, excidelty. 

He stood up and I jumped into his arms. I’m so happy, I start crying again. 

“Whoa, you’ve cried enough haven’t ya?” he joked. 

“I guess I have, but at least now I’m happy.”

<end>

[nachohypno]

Nate and Dave - Ch. 15

Dave’s POV

I’m sure you already know how much a single person can change a whole lot of your way to see the world, or have your life take a 180° turn (Had to look this up, angles are weird.) just by standing in a corridor.

Now I was just happy to stare at my phone’s unlocked background. A pic I took of us while cuddling. I was kissing his cheek and staring at the camera, while he just laid below me, his face had a little smile and his eyes were closed.

He loved that pic. I loved it too, it was both cute and wholesome. Never been one to do those things, nor even Leslie managed to get me to change my Dallas’ Cowboys background, and we had a lot more pics together than Nate and I do.

It was a nice distraction. I would sometimes just unlock my phone to see that pic and feel a bit warm inside as I imagined spending more time with my soulmate. I loved him a lot, and I wouldn’t mind sticking around with him for a day, or two, or the rest of my life, just to make sure he has all he needs to be happy like I am when I’m near him.

We sat together at school, yeah. Nobody batted an eye. We hung out during our breaks, still no big catastrophe happened. After school, we usually have a date or spend some time together before heading to our respective houses (As much as I’d like, having daily sleepovers wouldn’t be wise).

According to… everyone in the world who knows that I’m hanging out with Nate (Which may be just 2 or 3 people that I’m aware of), the guy had a really positive impact on my behavior. He’s always encouraging me to help whenever I can and to be… nicer, in general.

I’ve already apologized to one of my favorite targets a few weeks ago, but decided to fully leave them alone. In my house, however, I’ve been trying to honor my soulmate’s wishes doing some house chores to help mom and pops around. I still don't think I'm ready to 'change my public image' that much. Kicking nerd's asses is fun... but mean and unnecessary.

Mowing the lawn, going grocery shopping, cleaning around whenever my parents seemed quite tired to do it, that kind of thing. My room wasn’t a messy place before, but now I could spend less time looking for my stuff!

And now… Nate was at his house. I left him there per his request, he told me we could hang out later today! But first, he had some homework to do.

I looked around and noticed the door was closed. I dropped my shirt and pants, felt the locket’s cold metal against my chest, and dropped on my bed.

I wasn’t intending to take a nap, just close my eyes and think of my soulmate was a nice enough plan for my evening.

As I closed my eyes, images of my first day with him invaded my happy place. Me getting his scent, slowly walking over to his locker, and noticing the guy I never paid attention to, the one that sat a few rows in front of me, and was usually in the middle of the way when I threw paper balls around.

Now that I thought of it, maybe I never noticed him because he always hid? He was hiding right now; it was obvious that he was using his locker as a cover. I stood there, though. Taking in the smell. Feeling myself realizing more and more of that nice thought I had never thought about after my pops told me about that weird phenomenon.

…I had found my soulmate. The love of my life… It wasn’t my girlfriend, but a guy from my class… I frowned both in the real world and in my fantasy.

In the fantasy world, I lifted and kissed him. He didn’t fight back, just returned the love I was giving him by returning my kiss. I didn’t care if anyone watched us. I loved this guy, and I still do now.

I love Nate Hall.

I rubbed my crotch in the real world, as I kept kissing him in my fantasy. That was more than enough. A single kiss, a single thought about my soulmate being happy and in love with me could make me so hard and horny…

“Dave?” A voice said. My soulmate’s? It sounded so different though… I kept kissing him. This was perfect. He was perfect. He was the love of my life, of course he was perfect! “Daaaaave?”

Was there someone invading my fantasy? Oh, wait…

I opened my eyes and saw a familiar face standing there, wide eyed. I had my hand on my hard crotch, rubbing it. This was definitely an uncomfortable position to be found at. I could normally hear when people are walking towards my room, but maybe I was so out of it this time that I didn’t hear him.

“Fuck, sorry— Didn’t wanna—” My cousin said. What the fuck was he doing here, anyway?! In my room! When the fuck did he arrive?!

“Shut the fuck up! And close the door!” I commanded, feeling anger building up on my chest, totally replacing the warm feeling from a few seconds ago.

Brad Walker. My cousin was my height, which was a bit funny given that he was a few years older than me. He was muscled too, but his shoulders seemed wider as his torso formed a sort of upside down triangle. He was a rugby player, maybe it had to do with that.

By looking at his face alone, he could pass as a brother because of the resemblance. He had the Walker’s smile, looking both chilled while also managing to look a bit menacing to keep everyone in their toes.

Doesn’t give him much use, given that he’s a Beta.

Brad closed the door behind him, and laid back on it. “Off to a rocky start, I guess. Let’s try that again… Hey, cuz!”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I could feel the anger diminishing. I thought of my soulmate, how would he react if he saw me like this. He would want me to be nice and polite to my cousin. I wanted that too, I wanted to be nice to him. I’m so hot-headed sometimes…

I smiled at Brad, and took a few steps forward to give him a bro hug. After that, I walked over to my bed and sat on the edge. “Hey man, wat’cha doin’ around here?”

“Uncle hasn’t told you? Pops and him thought about doing a little reunion, so we drove over and… here we are.” Brad left his hands in his pockets as he looked around. I noticed I was still almost naked, but didn’t give it much thought. I did put some shorts on, though. “Just the big guys, though. Mom was tired and decided to stay at home with the young ones, so it’s just pops, Logan and me today. The guys asked me to get you downstairs, so… shall we go?”

I pointed to my almost naked body. “Give me a few minutes, alright?”

-----

Dressed up in some shorts and a grey tank top, I walked downstairs with Brad following me closely.

Pops was there, with his brother and my other cousin. I walked over to Logan and gave him a brohug. I liked my cousins, they were like brothers.

“Hey man,” Logan greeted me after the hug. It was nice seeing him. Well, like, nice and not nice, because he was pretty annoying sometimes. So I hoped he didn’t get very annoying tonight. “Damn, you look buffed. Taking steroids already?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you ask? Need some to stop being so thin, cuz?”

“I swear I still don’t know how he's not broken after kicking that ball. Y’look like a stick, bruh” Brad backed me up. I liked that about Brad, he was pretty loyal.

Logan laughed. He’s not one of those chums who get mad at every tiny insult. He’s pretty easy going in that regard. Would need to learn from him, because I am one of those chums who get mad at every tiny insult. “Don’t pull my dick, assholes” He punched my shoulder, softly.

Even though Logan was a year older than me, he was an ass. And that’s coming from me.

Logan… He was alright, I guess. Not really very muscly like me or Brad, nor our parents for that matter. That’s because he liked soccer, ugh. Not even weightlifting, nah. Just soccer and cardio.

That got him looking well in a soccer uniform with long socks and knee pads, but… I really should reconsider his standing in my pack. Meh, might as well let him in just because he’s family, but I’ll most likely order him to start working out more to be a real wolf bro. (I’ll get into this later.)

“Uh… don’t wanna be rude or anythin’ but… how long are you guys staying? Thought about having a friend coming over and-”

“Ooooh, is it your girlfrieeend?” The soccer cuz said, moving his fingers towards my face. I slapped his hand off me, and he laughed. “Big meanie Daveee has a girlfrieeeend” He was like a little kid when it came to annoying others, and the worst part was that he nailed it.

“Oh, shut it, bro. You’re just jealous- Wait, that’s not what I was going to ask”

“Dad and uncle Adam thought about doing some beefs for tonight, soooo… family dinner, I guess? We don’t really hang out often, so I thought it would be nice. Besides, we all love beef” Brad answered, holding his arms behind his head and stretching for a bit.

“We’re about to leave, actually,” Uncle Thomas said, grabbing his car keys. “Gonna buy some meat and drinks for tonight. Y’guys wanna come? Hey cub, haven’t seen you in months...” 

I greeted my uncle with a firm handshake, before he gave me a little punch on the abs. “Strong as a rock. Not bad, kiddo.” He ruffled my hair, before turning his attention back to my pops.

I was a bit too worried to think about hitting the store. Nate was supposed to come after he finished his homework, so we could spend the night together. I was supposed to pick him up. Fuck, what am I gonna do?

I shook my head and remained silent. Brad followed suit with a “Yeeaaah… No, been in that car for an hour and I’d really like to move my legs.”

“Pussies,” Logan said in a snarky tone. I raised my eyebrow, but decided to take care of him later. “I’ll go, may find some hot chicks in this friggin’ town…” 

My uncle looked similar to my dad, just a few little differences. Dark blond hair, a bit longer. Their sizes were similar, but my dad was bigger. It was weird to think that my uncle was the one who activated the werewolf curse in a bar fight and not my dad.

If you kill someone, whether it was intentional or accidental, you can’t transform into neither your werewolf or full wolf forms without experiencing a lot of pain. Could be avoided by never turning into those forms but…

Transformation is mandatory during the full moon. This whole thing seemed really thought out to punish those who don’t follow the rules, right?

Brad grabbed my arm “Hey, since we’re staying behind apparently, wanna catch up?” He pointed back to the stairs, probably wanting to go to my room.

I nodded, nothing better to do. And it would give me some time to think about what excuse I could give Nate.

Again in my room, Brad closed the door behind me. “So… a friend? I mean, the locket already gave me an idea but I didn’t you were bringin’ her to your place already…”

“It’s nothing, really…” It was something, a lot. I loved wearing this locket, it reminded me of Nate. Thus meaning, it was pure bliss in a single necklace.

“So, what’s the locket for? Always thought you’d end up with that Leslie chick you talked so much about” Oh, I forgot. My cousins never met my ex.

I shook my head, but was kind of hesitant to talk about it. In the end, I eased myself to the idea as I thought more about Nate. “Got a soulmate now, cuz.” Was my answer. I was proud of myself! Not even a half of the average werewolf population gets to meet their soulmate once in their lives!

I was lucky, it was like, one in a whatever-number-of-people-there-are-in-Earth!

“Waitwaitwait, not gettin’ it. So, you and Leslie… or is it another girl?”

“It’s a guy, his name is Nate” I mumbled out quickly. I wasn’t embarrassed, but at the same time, I felt like a chunk of ice just fell through my stomach. 

Silence.

“So… you’re gay now?” Brad said, giving me a thumbs up. “It’s alright, I don’t mind gay people”

I honestly couldn’t get how he got that assumption. “What? What makes you think that?”

“You’re with a guy, like dating and loving him and you even have a locket… I mean, that’s pretty gay. But it’s cool, it’s not that weird. Lots o’ people take some time to discover their sexuality and stuff— Uh… Cuz?”

I stared at him. Not staring, actually. I was glaring at him.

Brad gulped. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” While he did sound afraid, his face displayed a mix of nervousness and worry. I always laughed at him when he asked if he fucked up, like it was a regular thing for him to do but still needed other’s approval about it.

I just glared at him, making sure he knew I wasn’t happy. I walked forward and held my gaze into his, trying out my favorite part of being an alpha.

As I focused on him, his expression slowly started to relax, then vanish, as his pupils dilated.

“On your knees” I commanded, making sure he got it as an order, not a ‘humble request’.

His blank face didn’t move an inch, as he dropped to his knees and looked forward. His eyes, besides the pupils being dilated, looked glazed over as his irises changed from hazel to pure yellow. The beta color!

“Who’s your alpha?” I mocked him, as he blankly stared ahead.

“You are, sir. David Walker is my alpha” Brad droned. I ruffled his hair. He was a good beta. 

“And who do you have to be respectful towards?”

“My alpha, sir. Being respectful towards their alphas is the sign of a good beta, sir” Brad answered, in a matter of fact voice.

…I should probably explain what the heck is going on.

I’m an alpha. I’ve mentioned quite a few times already, but I never mentioned anything about other ranks.

You have omegas, who are wolves without a pack. They’re usually weaker than alphas and betas. Then there are the betas, werewolves already in a pack.

Omegas can survive quite well on their own, it’s not a requirement to have a pack. But if you want to get stronger… Getting an alpha is the best you can do.

That’s one of the reasons Pops is so proud of me. He and mom conceived an alpha in their first try! Nate usually nerds out about me sounding like a “Jerry Stud” whatever the fuck that is.

So, since I’m an alpha, both my older cousins are ‘my pack’ to call it some way. And you just got to see one of my favorite alpha skills.

Much like a soulmate bond, being a beta for an alpha makes them completely loyal to the alpha, which means… I have some degree of control over them. Not as much control as my love has over me, but still… It’s fun!

“So, won’t you apologize for calling me a fag— Uh… gay?” I’m still getting used to not using that word. Everything for my Nate. Can’t be a bully anymore, right?

I didn’t have to ask twice. Brad seemed to struggle a bit against it, but after a few seconds he said “I apologize, sir. I didn’t intend disrespecting you like that…” It was a cold, empty apology. But it did the trick. I’m not a picky guy, he’s my cuz after all.

But that did make me wary. Should I tell Nate to not come after all, at least until these guys leave? Fuck, they were going to ruin my evening with my soulmate.

“Uh… what do you think about my soulmate being a guy?” I walked in front of him, back and forth. I was trying to think what would be the wisest decision here. A second opinion would be useful.

“I personally don’t care, sir. You can love whoever you want, especially if you met your second half.” My cousin answered.

“I mean, yeah. But what would Uncle Thomas and Logan say if they found out about it?” I should uh… ‘wake him up’ or whatever already. But I liked him this way. You can say I’m a dominant guy. Not saying I lust over my cuz, that would be incest, but ordering him around is fun.

“I don’t really know. He’s your soulmate, they shouldn’t say anything. Logan is a fellow beta though, it wouldn’t be wise to fear anything from him. He’s as loyal to you as I am, my alpha.” Not going to lie, I loved hearing that.

Being in control of the situation, having everyone in my surroundings looking forward to being with me, or do as I say out of fear/respect/whatever… That’s why I loved the not-studying-part of school!

As a little reward for his opinion, I did what Nate would have done to me if I did particularly good: Scratch the back of his ear. Brad’s head got some emotion again, as he got closer to my hand and started panting with his tongue out.

“There, there. Good beta cuz” I mumbled, as I machinated a plan in my head. I had an idea, but it would be a bit… not ideal. I stopped scratching the good spot, and his expression blanked out again. I crouched in front of him, and looked straight into his eyes. “I want you to listen very clearly to me, understood? Listen and do as your alpha says…”

If Brad wasn’t in ‘beta mode’ before, then he definitely was now. His irises were still a bright yellow, but his pupils were even smaller now. “I’d do anything for my alpha, sir” placing a hand on his chest. I knew what that symbolized, I used that expression with Nate before. It freaked him out a little.

“Y’know, my soulmate is kinda a big deal for me so… I want you to treat him like a king, alright? No mean or cocky comments, just be nice to him and I’ll be nice to you, got it?” I had to search for the words to say this, it wasn’t really a piece of cake as I expected. “Think of him as an extension of your alpha. Make him feel good and do what he says, and you’ll be good to go.”

He frowned a bit, but his face quickly eased up. “As you command, my alpha. Your soulmate’s wellbeing will be my top priority, sir.”

Yeah, that’s more like it. “Get up now.” I said and just… walked away from him. I wasn’t interested in bossing him around anymore, not for now at least. But actually…

“Lift your shirt.” One last command wouldn’t hurt, and he obeyed without a question, like a good beta. I walked towards him and gave him a little punch on his abs. Didn’t even flinch, he was keeping up with me! Of course, I wanted the best for my pack! “And… Beta out.”

My cousin snapped out of whatever that was, his yellow irises returning to a nice hazel, as his pupils got back to normal. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and smiled. “Huh, 5 minutes. Wonder what you did there” The guy said, smiling at me.

He couldn’t get mad at me. I was his alpha! I mean, he could… but there wasn’t much he could do about it!

“Meh, you don’t really care, do you?” I said, trying to sound uninterested.

Brad shook his head. “Nah, I really don’t. I really trust ya, cuz. Best alpha around!” Couldn’t tell if he was following the ‘you don’t really care’ thing, or if he was being honest, but I didn’t really care.

“That’s a good beta” I mumbled, going closer to him again to scratch the back of his ear. God bless Nate and discovering that hidden pleasure for me. I loved when he did that to me, as I mentioned, and I loved doing it to other wolves, too!

“What are you two ladies doin’ up here- What the hell are you two doing?” Logan entered the room. My other older cousin, although younger than Brad. Rather than being as muscular as we were, he was more chilled. Yeah, he was in good shape, but he didn’t look like a big gym bro like us.

This was probably due to him preferring Soccer rather than football or rugby. Each to their own, but soccer isn’t that fun to begin with? I tried to not give it much thought and respect his hobbies.

“Brad, close the door and put on some music.” I ordered him, walking over to Logan and wrapping an arm around his small soccer player’s shoulders. “You just made my whole evening way easier, lil’ cuz”

I wondered if Nate would like this. I’d have to send him a message telling him that I wouldn’t be able to pick him up… That felt bad, but at least these guys wouldn’t bother him tonight!

-------

Nate’s POV

Dave invited me to his house, but asked me to walk over. He told me we could have a family dinner, which was alright. I liked his family. Mr. Walker was funny and Ms. Walker was really nice to us. We just had one family dinner and Dave spent most of his time zoned out.

And also, there was a full moon, which I didn’t get to see.

Was I glad they considered me ‘family’? It pushed me out of my freaking mind when Dave sent me that text.

I was walking slowly. Not like a snail and doing baby steps, but I felt like I should slow down as much as I could and… be fashionably late? It was a good walk, from my house to his. But I didn’t mind.

The town was quiet, not much stuff happening as I walked out of my house, and on the way to Dave’s neighborhood.

I thought about buying some ice cream or some nice dessert to make a good impression this time, but hey, I don’t really think they’ll care about it that much. They highly prefer meat, as far as I know.

Stopping in the middle of the way, I grabbed my phone and checked my maps app. “Should have arrived 10 minutes ago… fuck, that shortcut would have been really useful…” I mumbled to myself, changing my route and getting back on the way.

I was nervous at fuck, that maybe explained my silliness. And I also never walked to this part of town. It wasn’t… bad, but it was a bit more private than the usual neighborhoods, which fits Dave’s family pretty well due to them being werewolves, and stuff like that.

I still had some time to cancel and be like “Oh, hey. My… hamster pet is sick and I want to look after him?” I kind of sucked at making up excuses, that's why I never wanted to be late on homework due to laziness.

It was late now, just another block and...

I reached Dave’s house. It was weird arriving here on my own. Guess I really got used to my soulmate acting as my personal driver.  

The rooms inside were on, Dave’s car and his dad’s were outside the garage. The closer I got to the front door, the louder I would hear laughter coming from inside. Were they having  visits? It didn’t sound like Dave’s laugh. His laugh was… deep and dumb-sounding.

I stopped now. What if they had visits? What if Dave didn’t tell them I was coming? I was shaking a bit, before taking a deep breath. 

Taking my final steps to be in front of the main door, I knocked and waited for someone. Loud footsteps later, Adam Walker (Dave’s dad) opened the door.

“Hey bud. Didn’t know you were coming, but uh…” He motioned inside with his head. “Come in, the big guy is in his room with his cousins. We’re having a family dinner”

“Thanks, mr. Walker-” But he stopped me as I set a foot on the door. The older man leaned in and started whispering.

“Don’t be afraid. If you don’t want to be picked on tonight, try your best to not sweat as you did the last time. Dave will probably have you covered, though.” He patted my back, and moved aside to let me in. After that, he closed the door behind me. “Dinner will be ready in a bit so… feel free to go mingle with the guys upstairs.”

Uh… that wouldn’t be needed, apparently. Dave and a pair of guys were coming downstairs, and as soon as my puppy boy saw me, he rushed towards me to give me a big tight hug. “Missed you a lot, bruh! Didn’t know there was going to be more family tonight so… I’m really sorry for that. But I’m sure we’ll have a good time!”

The other two guys just stared at me, arms folded. One of them was big, and buffed. He had an absent smile, a bit creepy but also inviting. The other was smaller than him (And Dave, for that matter).

“Uh… since your uncle is here, these are…”

“Cousins, yuh” Dave finished the sentence. I made the connection on my own, but it was good to get some confirmation. “Big one’s Brad, small one’s Logan.”

“Hey, I’m not small!” Logan complained, trying to punch Dave’s arm. He didn't seem to do much damage though.

“Yeah, and I’m a bottom, heh” My werewolf jock replied, obviously mocking his cousin. I noticed Brad chuckling, and I couldn’t help but find that funny though. I always wondered if Dave would like to bottom at least once. I feel like he’d be alright if I asked him for it, due to me having full control and all that...

After the introduction was over, and both guys shook my hand, my focus shifted again to who I wanted to be with: Puppy boy was looking at me too.

“I can’t find the words to tell you how glad I am to see you here, though” Dave said, before pulling me in for a good make out session. In the middle of the living room. He was feeling happy or romantic, I assumed? I was surprised his cousins didn’t react at all, and just looked like they were watching some kind of movie.

“Wait, what the heck?” Oh geez.

A man blasted in the living room, and tried to separate me from Dave. The puppy boy reacted quickly though, and pushed him away. “What the fuck, old man?! This is my soulmate!”

Before the guy could go back at us, Dave’s dad popped in to save the day! “You guys just had to hold on for a bit until dinner was ready!” I felt like the ‘complaint’ was more directed towards who-I-thought-was Dave’s uncle, and Dave himself.

The puppy boy seemed a bit angry, he got in front of me and made sure I was out of view. It was a cute touch. I noticed the other two guys taking a step towards us too, like siding with Dave in this.

“Just, calm down, all of you, and start setting the table. Try to not take your eyes out while you do, alright?!” Mr. Walker surely knew how to take care of these situations. Was this a normal thing?

After a long stare, both guys nodded, and we all scrambled.

-----

I was sitting next to Dave and that other guy, Brad. Across me, Mr. Walker looked around with a calm expression, as he chewed on his meat piece. Thomas, Dave’s uncle, wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to me. His eyes were like daggers, fixated on me as I nervously stared at my plate.

It was amazing, and terrifying. The resemblance and also differences between both werewolves were quite noticeable. Mr. Walker was probably calm because he already knew about my thing with Dave. The cousins seemed to be quite attentive towards my every movement and sound. I felt like their eyes would automatically fixate on me at any little sound I would make, which was killing me inside. (Were they glowing yellow? Maybe it was my head playing tricks…)

Was I doing something wrong or offensive? I should excuse myself from the table.

“So…” Uncle Thomas started, before biting a big chunk of beef and gulping it down quickly. “Uh… soulmates, that’s neat. How did you two meet each other?”

‘First family dinner all over again…’ I thought to myself, as I tried to find the words for my answer.

“School, I was just walkin’ around and smelled him. Knew he was the one so… tried my best, huhuh.” Dave saved my ass, although his story was different this time. We lied during the first dinner. I couldn’t remember the excuse anymore, and that’s what bothers me about lies.

They’re usually hard to remember. That’s also the reason I’m a bad liar, my memory is awful.

“Yeah, that’s how it usually happens. You just walk around and get the smell, all the soulmate stories start exactly like that, ain’t that right?” Dave’s uncle looked at his brother next to him, who gave him a really angry looking frown.

“Go fuck yourself, got’cha?” I understood that reaction, The man lost his soulmate, I guess the memories were still painful? I’m no psychologist to tell.

“Yeah, sorry, shouldn’t have mentioned that… So uh… back to you, kiddo.” Oh, fuck. Dinner was nice, the meat was delicious! But Dave’s uncle didn’t seem to be… really fond of me. I was glad to see (Not really, now I sound like a dick) that he was bothering Mr. Walker too, so it’s nice to see that the consensus was… Dave’s uncle was a loud mouth ass. “You don't seem to have big muscles, but that's pretty much a given when you're a human."

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled, looking up at him. I tried to sound nice and not afraid, like Mr. Walker suggested before but… it was hard. “Not really good at sports and stuff like that, I guess-”

“Can see that. At least you’re a valedictorian, right?” I shook my head. High grades weren't my top priority. I did well at school, but didn’t focus enough for high grades to be a given. “No? That’s too bad.”

“Tom…” His brother tried to calm him. I noticed Dave needed some calm too. The big guy was clenching his fist with a lot of strength, as he held his knife with the other hand. He didn’t seem eager to cut the meat though, so I decided to step in for him.

I grabbed his fist beneath the table, feeling as it relaxed the longer I touched him. At the end, he grabbed my hand too, and I noticed his expression relaxed as well.

“Dad, don’t be such a dick. The guy’s fine, cut it out.” One of Dave’s cousins, big guy, uh… Brad! He seemed to be standing up for me, for some reason. He angrily stared at Dave’s uncle, without an apparent reason.

Uh… I felt like I was missing a big chunk of information here.

The uncle just stared back at his son, a bit surprised by his reaction. But before he could answer, or even react at all, Dave’s dad spoke up. “Well, it’s been fun, a neat reminder of why we never have family reunions, heh.”

“Ow, c’mon. It’s just a big friendly talk between men and…” He looked at me, seemingly ready to strike another insult. I grabbed Dave’s hand tighter.

But Dave’s dad didn’t give him the chance. “Dinner’s over. You guys will be going upstairs.”

“Roger that” I mumbled, leaving my plate with still a good chunk of meat. I didn’t let go of Dave’s hand, but he followed right after me.

“But I wanted a bit more beef...” The other cousin said. Logan, if I remember correctly. He was small, rather than muscled and big. I related to him because of that, glad to see not all male werewolves are big muscular people.

“Take the plate” Brad whispered to him, before following us upstairs.

“Okay, what’s going on-” I started to say, but my boyfriend shushed me.

“I’ll tell you all about it upstairs, just follow me and don’t make loud noises. Remember that they can hear everything in here” Dave interrupted me, as we went to his room. ‘Great, now my werewolf seems to be part of a mafia’.

-----

Locking the door behind us and his cousins, Dave ordered his cousins to stand aside, and they obeyed right away. “I’ll put some music here and…” His phone started playing some loud rock, but not loud enough to make the place feel annoying. “There, we can talk now.”

“Whaaat’s going on? And just tell me already, it feels quite bad to be insulted for no reason.”

“You weren’t really being insulted, bruh. I was.” Dave explained, motioning for me to go closer before leading me to his bed. “Uncle has… a bit of a problem, like pops has. But while pops knows when to shut his mouth, my uncle doesn’t, huh.”

“I don’t really see the insulting part there but continue…” I pointed out, but Dave just chuckled. Which seemed to cause a chain reaction and the werewolves guarding the door in front of us chuckled too.

“Sorry, yeah. Uh, well… My uncle is just bitter because my dad got an alpha son on his first try, me of course” I could figure that out on my own. The ‘I’m an alpha’ part I mean, he says it all the time. “Brad and Logan here are my betas. They were born as omegas, yeah, but I got them in my pack by willing choice because betas are usually stronger than omegas.”

The cousins were on the other side of the room. The small one, Logan, was tasting his meal with delight, while Brad leaned in to… hear our chat? They looked directly at Dave as soon as he mentioned them, before each one of them saying a “Hey” “‘Sup?”

“Why are they so… attentive?” Nosy mode on. I wanted to get answers, mostly because my curiosity was triggered now. ‘Obedient’ would have fitted better than ‘attentive’ though.

“Asked them to take care of you for the night, because I wasn’t sure if It would look good for me to do it. Pops is usually really fond of my uncle, but I think he didn’t like seeing him insulting my soulmate to get to me, bruh” Dave then put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “I can put them back to normal if you want me to, but… they don’t really mind, so why bother?”

Uhm… I risk myself sounding like a dick right now, but I found the idea of the two cousins under Dave’s control quite arousing… I’m not going to say it to him, of course! I didn’t want him to feel bad or anything if he saw his soulmate interested in other guys…

“Where are they going to sleep, by the way? Or are they leaving after a bit?” It was after dinner already so… it wasn’t a bad thing to ask. Like, we had school tomorrow...

“Living room, sofa. One of them, at least. I’ve got a sleeping bag, because they both can’t fit on the sofa, so while the guest room is occupied by my uncle and… yeah, I’ll go get that old thing. Gimme a sec.”

Dave got up from the bed and left the room, leaving me sitting there alone as the two cousins stared at me.

“Hope the meat is still good…” I told Logan, trying to sound nice. I felt a bit bad, Dave made them look after me, and that made them ‘defend’ me against their father. Yeah, I definitely feel bad now. “Sorry for crashing into the dinner.”

“You kiddin’? You seem like a cool guy, dad was just being an ass. It’s okay though, I think he likes you” Brad answered, and I feel like he’s the one “kiddin’” here. “He’s just… We don’t like family dinners, we do them out of courtesy. Nothing personal, dad can be naturally obnoxious sometimes”

I wanted to say sorry again or something like that, but that’s when Dave bursted in with the sleeping bag. “Y’guys play rock paper scissors to decide who’ll sleep with the alpha… Like, beside me, don’t get weird ideas.”

I chuckled, as Dave threw the sleeping bag next to the cousins, and started taking off his shirt as he walked towards me. “You’re sleeping over, right? It’s still early, but I can make up for the bad time by cuddling, if you’d like.”

To be honest, it felt like a good idea to distract me from that… failed family dinner night. Never again I’ll ‘crash’ into a Walker dinner (Even though Dave knew I was coming over). Too many surprises for a lifetime, thank you.

I laid down, rolled over to leave him room. We wouldn’t be sleeping yet, I hoped. The big guy laid down beside me and quickly pulled me in.

“Fuck…” 

“Yeah!” We turned towards the other guys and noticed Brad had won the rock paper scissors game. Logan just seemed defeated, he grabbed his empty plate and looked over at us.

“Well, g’night bros. Gonna be in the living room, I guess.”

“Buh-bye” Dave said, before turning around again and holding me in his arms. “Sorry again for all that before, bruh. Let's get some sleep, a’ight?”

Honestly, I think I didn't feel as offended as I should have. Best to just let things slide off, I guess. I decided to just nod, and doze off while hearing Brad setting up his sleeping bag. 

I didn’t pay him much mind, though. My puppy boy's hug felt nice enough to help me relax quite quickly...

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

Author’s note:

Took me long enough. But chapter 16 went up already, so gotta keep up with the content.

Chapter 16 is available in my Patreon, but it will go up as soon as I publish Chapter 17 there. Shouldn’t be long, I feel very inspired lately! (Hopefully it won’t take as long as this one did 😅).

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it <3.

[edie-k]

Cost Nothing (R/Hr, PG-13)

Title: Cost Nothing

Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual humor)

Pairing: Romione

Summary: "Compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them." Thomas Fuller

When Harry and Ginny point out a shortcoming of Hermione's, she turns to Ron to set the record straight.

Notes: Thanks to accio-broom for the beta work and lovely feedback.

Happy birthday to Ron! To celebrate properly, I called upon the OG of the Ron Weasley Defense Squad, one Harry James Potter.

Link to AO3 or click below

“Hey,” said Ginny, flopping down on the blanket next to Hermione. 

“Oh, are you finished playing?” 

“Just a break. Get this - Percy sent an owl and said he, Charlie and George are coming back at 4 to play.”

“Wow, he’s really trying to make this up to you all,” said Hermione, impressed. She glanced up to see Ron and Harry walk towards her, brooms in hand. She used her bookmark to hold her place.  

Harry dropped his broom to the ground and laid down between the two of them. “Hermione, your cooling charms are just as great as your warming ones.” 

Ron stood in front of them. Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him warmly. He smiled back and stuck his arm into the air above her blanket. “Bloody hell, that feels good.” 

“Come lay down,” said Hermione, patting the blanket next to her. 

“I won’t get up if I do. And I was thinking I should run up to the house and grab some drinks and snacks to bring back here?” 

“Ah, great idea, mate,” said Harry. 

“Cute and brilliant, what more could I ask for?” said Hermione with a smile

Ron flushed and gave her a grin. “I’ll be right back.” He walked up to the house. 

Hermione pulled out her wand to expand the blanket and cooling charm to give them a bit more space. As she was putting her wand to the side, she caught Harry looking at her with a bemused expression. “What?” 

“I am just not used to that yet,” said Harry. “Especially from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“I’ve never heard you compliment him before. Certainly not on his looks,” said Harry. 

“Harry Potter! You know that I think Ron’s wonderful and always have.”

 “I’ve thought Ron was great for almost a decade now. I assumed that you did too. I’ve just never heard you say it.” 

“You’re joking!”

“To be fair to you, you were quite complimentary of his basilisk fangs idea during the battle, but I otherwise stand by my statement.” 

 “Ginny!” Hermione appealed to her friend that had been observing silently. “You’ve heard me compliment Ron before, right?” 

“To his face? Never. To others? Also never.” 

“Well, the two of you aren’t around us all the time,” said Hermione. 

“It’s true. There were dozens of minutes over the last year that I was away from you two,” said Harry.

Ginny laughed. “It’s fine, Hermione. You just don’t hand out compliments easily.”

“That’s not true,” said Harry, shaking his head. “You’ve said loads of nice things about me.”

“Did she?” asked Ginny, quirking an eyebrow. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, I’d recommend not triggering that Weasley jealousy. You’re my best friend, and who else was going to bolster and build you up? It certainly wasn’t based on any personal interest I had. I was just passing along the gossip and giggling I’d hear in the loo.”

“And Ron Weasley, bastion of self-assuredness, was in no need of compliments,” said Ginny drily. “Especially when you’re showering Harry in them.”  

Hermione’s face darkened. “That’s quite rich coming from someone who compared Ron to his best friends just to embarrass him. I fancied him, and you expected me to tell him that Bridget Nichols wanted to quote, ‘climb him like a tree’? Besides, I seem to recall that he wasn’t lacking female attention at the time,” she sniffed. 

Harry sat up, looking nervous. “Uh, look, there’s no need for you and Ron to rehash sixth year.”

“Ron and I have already come to an appropriate understanding on that. What there’s really no need for is the two of you butting into our relationship.”

“You’re right,” said Harry. “We should-”

“It all checks out,” said Ginny, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You complimented Ron constantly, which gave him the confidence to never make a move.” 

“Oh, and what about him? It’s not like he was showering me in praise!”

“Well, he did -” Harry stopped his sentence short. “No. I’m sorry I brought any of this up; it was a careless joke.”

“Finish what you were going to say,” Ginny and Hermione demanded in unison. Hermione looked at Ginny, surprised by the synchronicity before glaring and looking back at Harry, who she could tell desperately regretted the whole conversation. 

Harry looked between the two and sighed. “All I was going to say was that Ron has told you how brilliant you are loads of times over the years.”

“Well, so has Professor Flitwick, but I didn’t think that meant he was trying to get in my knickers.”

“It’s Ron, though. He hardly ever misses an opportunity to put his foot in his mouth, yet I can still think of dozens of times he fawned all over you.” 

“Those aren’t exactly signals a boy gives you to say he’s attracted to you,” said Hermione. 

“No, I suppose not,” said Harry, laying back down. He looked as if he wanted to say more but was holding his tongue. 

“I think that what Harry said originally is true. Neither of you ever explicitly told us you liked the other, but we always knew Ron thought you were amazing. We had to assume that you thought Ron was too,” said Ginny, the edge now gone from her tone.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew they were wrong, but she just didn’t have the proof yet. 

They lay contemplating for a few minutes before Harry broke the tense silence. “Ugh, I’m still trying to decide what’s more disturbing - Flitwick trying to get in your knickers or Ron.”

“Ron doesn’t have to try,” Hermione cheeked. Ginny laughed, and Harry’s face contorted. 

“What don’t I have to try?” asked Ron. He had returned with a basket filled with cold butterbeers, crisps, biscuits, and a couple of apples, which he set next to Hermione as he eased himself down.  While the others stretched around to grab snacks, Hermione cringed as she noticed he looked uncomfortable to have discovered them discussing him. She decided to be straightforward. 

“To get into my knickers,” Hermione responded with a grin. His ears burned, but she saw a light in his eyes when he noticed Harry’s continued cringe. 

“Oh,” he said as he sat down next to her. “Are you actually wearing knickers today? That’s disappointing.”

Harry broke a biscuit and threw half at each of them. 

**********************************

“Hey Hermione?”

“Yes?” It was well after dinner now, and the two of them were taking a walk as dusk began to settle in. The decision to take a walk was met with teasing from all of his brothers that left Hermione rolling her eyes. It was truly only a walk. After years of seeing only the downsides to his status as the youngest brother, he was finally reaping a benefit - his parents were turning a blind eye to the fact they were sharing a bed in a silenced and locked room so an uncomfortable roll in the orchard was unnecessary. 

“Yes?”

“Why were you talking about me getting in your knickers with Harry and Ginny?”

Hermione bit her lip while Ron continued on. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I would be comfortable taking out an ad in The Daily Prophet bragging about shagging you, and I’m sure they knew well before today. But as fun as it was to make him squirm, I thought we’d been trying to not make Harry uncomfortable.”

“He sort of brought it up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. After you walked away, he mentioned it was odd to hear me call you cute.”

“And brilliant,” he said with a rakish grin. 

“Of course.”

“But how did that lead to your knickers?”

“Oh, it was infuriating. The reason he thought it strange was that he couldn’t remember me ever giving you any compliments.”

“Oh.”

“And I was telling him how silly that was.”

“Right.”

“Obviously, now that we’re together... I’ve been attracted to you for as long as I can remember, but it’s certainly easier to tell you now, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure. I mean, previously I worried that telling you how gorgeous and sexy you are would get me slapped, and now I’m just curious which one of us ends up on our back.”

 “Stop,” she giggled. “But before we were together, I always told you how highly I thought of you.”

“Well, I don’t think you hand out unearned praise.”

 “Of course. But I’ve complimented you loads over the years. Right?”

Silence hung between them. 

“I love you?” Ron finally responded. 

“You agree with them?”

“I really love you?” said Ron. 

“You truly don’t think I ever complimented you?”

“You… tried once. When I got the prefect badge in 5th year,” he said. 

“The only reason I didn’t have anything was that I couldn’t think of a way to say it without hurting Harry’s feelings!”

“Really, love, don’t worry about it. You said things about my Quidditch performances as well. At least the good ones.”

“No! We.. we cleared the air on all this. Viktor, Lavender, the locket. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“What would I say? You should have complimented me more? How self-involved would that sound? And now that we’re together, you do compliment me all the time. If I’d said something, maybe I’d question if you were being genuine or not now.”

Hermione was quiet. “I never realized that I wasn’t. It all ran through my head so much, but I guess I never… things would have been so different if I had.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Really?” she said with disbelief. 

“Yes, really. I won’t lie - compliments couldn’t possibly have hurt. But you basically asked me on a date, and my mind still couldn’t process that you wanted to be with me. And at that point in my life, the praise to Harry would have still bothered me, so the locket would have glommed onto that.”

“I would never have said-“

“Hermione! Listen to yourself! You didn’t do anything wrong telling Harry those things. His life was shit, and he’s your best friend. It’s not your fault I was an immature prat.”

“I was really just passing along what the girls were saying about him in the loo.”

Ron looked amused. “Is that how girls talk in the loo about boys?”

Hermione laughed. “I���m not even sure what I told you.”

“At the risk of reinforcing what an insecure git I am, you mentioned how tall and fanciable he was and went into all of the Chosen One and Ministry persecution stuff,” Ron said. “I’m just saying that is not how we talked about girls in our dorm.” 

“Ah, yes, I did clean it up a bit, but they did at least talk about Harry with a bit of reverence and respect as opposed to treating him like a  piece of meat as they did with you. But I’m interested in how the boys discuss girls.”

Ron winced. “Sorry, I never even thought about what she might say that you’d have to hear.” 

“No, that was a whole different set of issues. These were other girls.” 

Ron stopped. “Other girls? What did - nevermind, it uh, doesn’t matter.” 

Hermione was surprised to find that his aborted question hadn’t even bothered her. “I won’t tell you everything, but I did already tell Harry… Bridget Nichols said she wanted to climb you like a tree and -” 

“What?!” 

“Yes,” she laughed. “And you remember Tori Daylon?” 

“She was that short little thing, right?” 

“She thought she was the perfect height to make you very happy.” 

“Merlin, you girls are just as bawdy as us,” Ron laughed. 

“We have hormones too.” 

“You never said anything about me, did you?” he asked. Hermione shook her head. “But what type of review am I going to get in the bathroom this year from you?” 

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed.

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Absolutely.” 

[multiharlot]

real life spencer / matthew gray gubler x reader

summary: in which matthew meets the woman who inspired the man that’s stolen the hearts of america.

masterlist

part two

third person pov

the girl walked timidly through the busy filming set, clutching her hands around the strap of her shoulder bag. she approaches the studio doors, rocking awkwardly on her white low top vans and running her hand through her hair. her yellow midi skirt swayed softly over her legs as the warm los angeles breeze floated through her white button up. the doors open suddenly and she jumps back, nearly tripping over herself. 

“you must be, y/n. i’m jeff davis, thank you for coming in today.” the man smiles, sticking his hand out to the girl. 

her mouth opens and closes before she smiles. 

“hi. sorry umm...germ thing.” she chuckled awkwardly. 

“oh. oh right i’m sorry. come in and meet the cast.” he says, wiping his hands on his pants and opening the door wider.

she stepped into the doors, tucking her hair behind her ears and waiting for jeff to lead the way. 

“we really appreciate you being here and consulting with us. we want to make this show as real as possible.” he explains as he leads her towards the writers room. 

“of course, i’m happy to help. you did decide to base a character off of me, it’s the least i can do.” she nods, the thought in her mind made her feel slightly awkward, but grateful nonetheless. 

“yes, the cast is so excited to meet you by the way. we all were. it’s not everyday you get to meet a real life genius.” he chuckles. 

“technically, passing the IQ test only determines that you have a certain IQ. a large portion of those with higher IQ’s aren’t all that smart. high IQ’s couldn’t determine your true intelligence, never mind a genius.” she shrugs, silently reveling in the fact that yet another person had called her a genius. 

she secretly hated the term genius. as complimenting as it was, the word had hung over her head her entire life. she herself never believe she was a genius, and the word alone made her feel as though she had to meet a certain quota. the idea of being a genius held her to a standard that she felt she couldn’t meet. 

“right...well i mean, you do have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. so...you’re the most genius non-genius i’ve ever met.” jeff shrugged, stopping in front of the white door. 

“yeah...” the girl trails off, stopping beside him. 

“well this is the writer’s room, and this is our cast. everyone, meet agent- sorry, dr. y/n y/l/n. doctor, i give you the criminal minds cast.” jeff smiles as he opens the door, leading the girl into the room. 

she rocked awkwardly on her sneakers, waving timidly. 

“oh you’re so cute!” kirsten squeals, wrapping her arms around the girl, making her jump back. 

“sorry. ah. i’m sorry. i just uhh...germ thing.” she chuckles, making kirsten blush. 

“oh. oh i’m so sorry. i’m just a hugger.”

“that’s okay. you know our tendency to engage in physical touch is often a product of our upbringing. those of us who’s parents weren’t as physically demonstrative tend to disengage from activities like hugging, or even something as simple as a pat on the back.” the girl rambles nervously, making everyone in the room pause. 

“although, some children tend to have the exact opposite effect, leading to a starvation for human physical interaction, which in turn actually turns them into huggers.” matthew smiles widely at the girl. 

she blushes, and a nervous chuckle escapes her lips.

“you must be dr. spencer reid, nice to meet you.” she smiles, nodding her head at the man. 

“my name is matthew. matthew gray gubler. and it’s nice to meet you too, doctor.” he smirks, looking the girl up at down. 

shemar raises his eyebrow at him, an impressed smirk growing onto his face. 

“right, well, y/n here has graciously taken the day off to help assist in our terminology and making this show as realistic as possible. so, let’s get started.” jeff smiles, closing the door behind him. 

the room buzzes with light chatter as everyone begins taking their seats. y/n stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of where she would be going. matthew takes note of this, and smiles softly, standing from his chair and walking over to her. 

“you can come sit next to me.” he smiles. 

“o-okay.” she nods, clutching the strap of her bag tightly and following beside him. 

the cast all exchange knowing looks as they looked from each other to the pair off in their own little world. 

“so, tell me, is working in the fbi as hectic as we’re making it seem?” matthew asks, leaning his head on his hands. 

“yes and no. we’re more of a sub-unit within the national center for the analysis of violent crimes. there are a total of six different behavioral analysis units, each of us working for a different type of crime.” she explains as the writers scribbled across their notepads feverishly. 

“and which one are you on?” thomas asks, and she smiles as she looks at the man. 

“i work in analysis unit 4, which is crimes against adults and we also work hand in hand with the violent criminal apprehension program, also known as ViCap.”

“is it true you graduated high school at twelve? or did jeff just make that up?” kirsten asks, her eyes wide and curious. 

“thirteen. not twelve. and after high school, i attended Stanford, Cal Tech, and then Harvard where i was immediately recruited by the US government. i’m not supposed to tell you this, but it’s true what they say about those who take math 55.”

“how many PhD’s do you have?” aj asks as she leans onto the table.

“two. chemistry and clinical psychology. and i also have a master’s degree in neurobiology.”

“did they wave you through the academy the same way they did pretty boy, here?” shemar asks, ruffling the top of matthew’s head. 

“no they did not. i actually went through the training, same as everyone else. one thing that isn’t accurate about this show, however, is that our agents are actually required to take a certain amount of personal days per month, and there’s a mandatory 12 hours of counseling with our building psychologist that we have to complete every month.” 

“how many personal days?” matthew asks, a flirtatious smile slapped on his face causing the butterflies to go into a frenzy in y/n’s stomach. 

“u-um. i have a quota of three days per month. so i usually take a long weekend at the end of every month.” she smiles, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. 

“do you carry a gun? oh! can we see your credentials?” aj gasps, almost excitedly. 

“i do. but only when i’m on the job. otherwise, i don’t like having them. and uhh..yeah sure.” y/n mumbles, rummaging through her purse and pulling out both her credentials and her identification card. 

y/n hands them to matthew and his fingers graze lightly over hers, causing a blush to form over her cheeks. he passes them along to the rest of the cast and he then looks down at the girl next to him. 

“can i draw you?”

“only if i can draw you.”

matthew chuckles, nodding his head. and the two mindlessly doodled each other as the meeting went on. y/n answered what seemed like an endless amount of questions and matthew simply stared her. her eyes, her nose, her lips. he found her absolutely beautiful, and he couldn’t manage to tear his eyes away from her for longer than 2 minutes at a time. as y/n finished her one line doodle of matthew, she scribbled a quick note at the bottom of the page, and tore it out of her notebook. matthew ripped the page from his, ready to hand it to the girl when jeff interrupted them. 

“alright guys, we’ll see you tomorrow. and thank you, dr. y/l/n, for coming in. i can’t explain how informative you’ve been.”

odd choice of words, she thought. but she nodded, saying you’re welcome nonetheless. 

everyone began to exit the room and matthew called out for the doctor, stopping her in her tracks. she looks up at him only realize just how tall he really was. 

“here.” he smiled, handing over the paper. 

to: the real life spencer reid from: gatthew may bugler

she giggled as she opened the page, seeing the truly abstract drawing of herself. 

“this is actually really good.” she smiled, staring down at the page. 

“thank you. it helped to have such a beautiful model.” he says, biting his lip nervously. 

a blush covered her cheeks and her ears and she giggled nervously. 

“well umm...here.” she says, handing over her page. 

when he folds open the paper, his mouth falls open at the beautiful one-line drawing she had done of him. then, his eyes fall to the bottom of the page, and his mouth runs dry.

“umm..give me a call if you need any...character reference.” she says as she rocks back and forth on her feet. 

“can i call you even if i don’t need any character reference?”

she smiles, nodding her head. 

“would uh...would you maybe want to go grab lunch with me?” he asks, scratching nervously at the back of his neck.

she opens her mouth to say something when her phone rings out. her eyebrows furrow as she pulls her phone out of her bag, her partners name across the top. 

“sorry, this’ll just take a second- i’m on my personal time, fields.” she sighs into the phone. 

“no no i know. so am i. and i also know you’re in los angeles. wanna go check out the bureau offices?”

“sorry, i have plans.” y/n shrugs, staring up at matthew. 

“oh do you? doing what?” fields questions. 

y/n bites her lip, reaching over and grabbing matthew’s hand. 

“someone’s taking me to lunch” she smiles, pulling matthew towards the studio exit and hanging up the phone.

“so, where are we going mr. bugler?” she smiles. 

“i thought you had a germ thing.” he says, raising an eyebrow at their intertwined hands.

“i’ll make an exception for you.” she shrugs, making him smile. 

“well, how does chinese sound?”

“perfect..as long as i don’t have to use those god awful chopsticks.”

“a PhD in engineering yet you can’t use chopsticks?”

“excuse you. dr. reid is the one with the PhD in engineering. i only have PhD’s in chemistry and psychology.”

“oh. yeah. only.”

taglist:

@dreatine​ @slytherinintj13​ @mileven-reddie​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​ @haileymorelikestupid

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and vilains

Virgil Anker: Confrontation

Virgil hates confrontation. That is probably why it took him until now to talk to Janus. And even now it can’t be avoided any longer, he wants to.

When he saw Roman again the next day, he was momentarily speechless.

When he said he’d try out wearing his flag, Virgil hadn’t expected him to do this. The theatre kid entered the classroom with rainbow hair and a rainbow backpack slung over his shoulder, his red varsity jacket open, showing off his matching rainbow shirt. Roman locked eyes with him and strode over to his desk with an excited grin, sitting down on top of it. “You are extremely extra any chance you get aren’t you?” Virgil chuckled. Come to think of it, he really should have expected this. “I am,” Roman agreed, proud of it, as he took off his jacket. Virgil smiled as he saw the writing. Gay Disney Prince indeed. “Well it looks good on you,” he told him honestly. It did. It was like he was glowing. “Why thank you, mi caballero guapo.” Before Virgil could begin to decipher that, their homeroom teacher walked in and Roman took his seat. The second they were handed their schedules, Roman compared them with a growing smile. “We have almost every class together!” he exclaimed, sounding about as happy about it as Virgil felt. This year was looking better and better with every minute. “Aside from our electives that is. Why am I not surprised you’re taking drawing classes? Though you don’t really need the extra help. You are amazing as you are. Which reminds me. Did you think about sending in your designs?” Virgil didn’t really have the chance to react to anything Roman just said, and when he did, he wasn’t capable of it. Roman had been leaning over to read Virgil’s schedule and hadn’t moved away while ranting, and now he looked up and Virgil could feel his breath on his face. Roman quickly sat up with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself there.” Virgil looked away to hide his emberasment. He played with the edges of his hoodie for a moment. He knew he was blushing and that his foundation wasn’t covering it up anymore. Why had he let Picani and the counselors convince him to slowly build off the amount he put on every morning? Sure it was part of letting others in and all that stuff. But he was still nervous about it. Blushes and freckles and heaven forbid any sort of tan hadn’t been seen by anyone other than his dads in ages. Even uncle Thomas hardly saw him without make up on. And J… Well, it’d been a while for him too. Start of last year come to think of it. The last time he’d stayed over at his place for a night. It was a thing that just happened sometimes, when they were too lazy to go home. They both had a bag of stuff in the other’s house for just such occasions. Those days of having so much fun that hanging out just evolved in staying over were something he’d missed a lot. And part of him still hoped they’d come back soon. That Janus had woken up and was back to his old self. “No problem…” he assured Roman, forcing himself not to dwell on those thoughts. Instead he thought about the answer to his question. “Well… I don’t know. You really think he’d want it?” he checked, looking up to read Roman’s face. “Are you kidding?” Roman exclaimed with a look as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “If I were forced in that atrocious ‘crime against fashion’ as you adequately called it, I’d be wishing on every star for a new outfit. And what you have drawn up. It’s not just an answer to his every prayer, it’s the most awesome costume he could ever hope for.” Virgil felt a corner of his mouth lift and looked away again. “Alright… I’ll send it in… But with some adjustments and under an alias,” he insisted. He wasn’t sure how his dad would feel about him restyling the city’s newest hero. “How about Dante?” Roman offered. Virgil did his best not to show how happy that choice made him. He’d gotten the reference. He knew the book. Of course he did. He was a theatre nerd. He was bound to know the classics right? Virgil nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed. When the door opened Virgil had actually been in the process of taking out his sketchbook to show Roman the finished design, but then the teacher spoke and he immediately found every nerve in his body on edge. Not a great reaction to have when hearing your life long best friend’s name. Virgil couldn’t make himself look at Janus. He’d promised himself over and over again that he’d face him head on when the time came. Principal Stokes had warned him that they were in the same homeroom. But once class started he’d foolishly hoped that they managed to move him in another group after all and had just forgotten to tell him. He should’ve realized he was just late.

Before he knew it, Janus was in front of the desk. “Move, that’s my seat,” he said through gritted teeth. What had him so agitated? He’d taken peace with Virgil sitting next to Roman last year right? Why was he back to being a jerk about it? Sure he’d never liked it, but hadn’t he learned his lesson about telling Virgil who he could and couldn’t sit with? “De ninguna manera,” Roman replied, leaning back in his chair with a confident smirk. Virgil wracked his brain. He’d just told Janus, “No way,” if he remembered correctly. Roman had never talked Spanish for no good reason before though. Was this because Virgil asked about it? Some kind of learning by exposition? “You want to sit with the coolest kid in school? Get here on time.” And then he has to go ahead and say that. Roman definitely did not know the power he held over Virgil’s mood. Hearing Roman say that, without a hint of doubt or insincerity, made Virgil a lot more confident about what he had to do today. Roman Castile had his back, and a lot of other people too. People liked him. He had to remember that. “Excuse me?” Virgil’s eyes widened as he saw that Janus raised his fist. He’d never seen him actually hit anyone. He’d threatened to do it a few times. But never in front of a teacher. Had he lost his mind? “Mr. Bullard! Seat! Now!”

Janus’ gaze moved from Roman to Virgil, waiting for him to say something. Too bad for him, Virgil wasn’t going to say what he wanted to hear.

“You heard the teacher Jan. Just go.” After a few moments of disbelieving silence Janus went to sit at the empty desk on Virgil’s other side. Luckily there was a bit of open space between them. “Good,” the teacher sighed as she continued her class. “As I was saying, I hope the rest of the year will go without any more incidents like yesterday. Mr. Anker, Mr. Castile, I speak for the whole school when I say that we are happy to see you two are back and unfazed by yesterday’s incident.” “Thank you Mrs. Foster,” Virgil muttered a little embarrassed by the attention. He just hoped some different type of gossip would grab everyone’s attention soon. And maybe it already had. Roman’s coming out might distract a little from what happened yesterday. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of my radiant presence for another day,” Roman jested, stealing the show effortlessly as usual. Virgil joined his classmates in their laughter, feeling himself relax. The bell rang and Roman and Virgil were among the first to leave the class. Janus, luckily, had to stay back to get his schedule.

Virgil was happy to find that Roman’s locker wasn’t that far from his. “Where are we headed next?” Roman asked while he was collecting his things. “Um…” Virgil muttered as he dug in his backpack. He was pretty sure he knew the schedule by heart already, but they had enough time to make sure. The second Virgil confirmed their destination, the paper was snatched out of his hand. “Hey!” he exclaimed turning around to find Janus studying his schedule. He looked very unhappy.

Virgil was angry enough not to worry about that. His attitude from earlier and now combined made him not feel sorry for the cold shower Janus was going to get once he learned the full truth. “How can we have no classes together? I thought we were going to take sociology?” And he just pissed him off even more. “No!” he snatched the paper back, surprising Janus. When their eyes met he could see surprise shift to hurt confusion. “You were. I tried to tell you that I wanted to do art, and you didn’t listen. Like usual.” And that was all he was going to say about it right now. He was so mad at himself for hoping today would go well after that stupid text. He always got him like that. But this back and forth was hurting him. Hurting others. He couldn’t let it continue. “We’re in building C. Let’s go,” he told Roman, who nodded, collected his last things and starting to follow him to class. Staying out of the argument, like Virgil had asked him last year. “Virge, come on!” Janus was blocking his path, looking at him pleadingly. Looking like the real Janus. No. It’s a trick. Or not a trick maybe. But it wasn’t… He couldn’t back down now. “You are mad, I get it, I’m sorry okay?” Virgil felt his heart clench. It had been a while since he’d said sorry like that. But saying sorry, while a good step, was only a start. He and Picani had made a list of things that needed to happen before Virgil could start letting Janus back into his life. If ever. “Can’t we talk about this? We always work things out,” he pleaded  and Virgil flinched. He wanted to. He really did. Not here and not now though. He had to do this. For both of them. They both needed some space. “My decision is final J. I’m done enabling your behavior. I thought I was helping you out, but I was making it worse. I can’t protect you anymore… You are right. Sometimes we have to do what’s best for us. And for me, that is not being around you anymore.” Please, please let it be now. Virgil wished. He didn’t, he was reaching out, and once more, Virgil found himself looking at Roman’s back. “He’s asking you to back off. Give him some space.” He sounded soothing. He wasn’t trying to taunt Janus. Just to diffuse the situation. Janus didn’t see it that way. With a loud bang, Roman was pushed against the lockers, making Virgil flinch. This wasn’t good. He could feel his self-control slipping. He couldn’t have an attack right now. He hated that he’d taken a pill yesterday. If he hadn’t then he might have allowed himself to take one today. Now he was going to lose it in the middle of the hallway and… “Stay out of it Chapero!” This was followed by another bang. Virgil looked up and was surprised to find Roman was now the one holding Janus against the lockers. He looked livid. “You better not know what you just called me,” he warned. Janus grinned at him, clearly feeling vindicated for some reason. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Payaso.” Virgil had to put a stop to this. He wouldn’t let Janus taunt Roman into getting in trouble. “Roman! What’s going on? Let him go. Let’s just go to class. Please,” he pleaded, wondering if it would help to lay a hand on his shoulder or make things worse. Roman looked back though and once their eyes met he seemed to calm down. “Sorry. You’re right. We’ll be late,” he sighed, letting go and letting Virgil lead him to their class “Get to class Jan!” Virgil called back. “This isn’t over!” Janus promised, but to Virgil’s relief, he didn’t follow them. Virgil waited until they left building A before he looked over to Roman. He looked really upset. After taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he carefully laid a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. “I’ll be fine, just pissed off,” Roman assured him before looking at him concerned. “How about you? He was your friend for a long time right?” Virgil sighed sadly. “He lives in the house next to mine. We basically grew up together I guess.” Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile or cry as he thought back to the countless memories they shared. Janus and his parents had always been a part of his life almost as much as his dad was. “And I tried to protect him from bullies as best I could, you know because of,” he made a gesture to his face. Roman nodded. He understood. “I didn’t realize he isn’t that same kid anymore. I guilted myself into sticking with him. He was my friend, if I didn’t help him who would? He needed me. He stuck with me too. You get the picture,” Virgil shrugged dismissively. Though it was so much more complicated than that. He didn’t want to get into the nuances of his past and his decision now though. There was simply no time. “When he told me to take the same elective as him. I had enough. I told you about the summer camp I went to. What I didn’t mention was that it was a camp where they teach you to stand up for yourself. ‘your needs are important too’ and all that stuff. So when I got home I asked my dad to help me convince the principal to make sure I shared as little classes with him as possible. I felt shitty doing it.” It still felt like a betrayal on his part. “But at camp, I also learned that me tolerating Jan so long isn’t helping him. Mrs. Danvers was on the right path when she separated us last year. We both need to learn be us without the other. And maybe when we’ve figured that out, we can try again.” God he hoped they could try again. He missed his friend. But that might take some time. And the ball was entirely in Janus’ court. Speaking of. How badly had he just messed up with Roman to make him loose his composure like that. “What did he say?” he asked Roman. “Janus likes to brag that he is fluent in Spanish and French. I didn’t know he’d also learned slang.” “He learned slang alright,” Roman scoffed. “I’m pretty sure he was just trying to get a rise out of me, which succeeded.” Roman took a deep breath, calming down considerably. “You sure you want to know?” he asked, much more gentle. “Yes. If it upset you that much, I do,” Virgil said firmly. He wanted to know how mad he had to be with Janus when they inevitably talked later. “Alright. Payaso, means clown,” Roman told him. Clearly he was starting with the less offensive term. Virgil gave him an encouraging nod. “And… Chapero,” Roman’s face when he said the word filled Virgil with dread. It must be really bad. “It means- It refers to my…” Instead of finishing his sentence, he gestured to his coming out shirt. No… “Seriously!?” he growled as he turned, about to tell Janus that he’d have to work twice as hard to make Virgil trust him again now. Because this… This made him want to keep Janus away from his family. What if he’d said something insensitive in front of Logan or Patton? He would not allow it. Suddenly he felt a pull at the back of his hoodie. Stopping him in his tracks. “We can’t be late. Not for him,” Roman reminded Virgil. “You’re right.” There were priorities in his life other than Janus. He could not let him take up a leading role in it any longer if he wanted to heal. Man, he was started to sound like Picani. They arrived in their class and sat themselves at a desk fairly central. Virgil was secretly happy that Roman chose to sit next to him again.

“Well, what do you know? My two favorite boys at one desk. Must be my lucky day!” Virgil looked up. Stacey was sitting on Roman’s desk, subtly respecting Virgil’s personal space while still drawing his attention. He appreciated that. She was good at this flirting thing. “Good morning to you too Stacey.” Roman greeted with a smile. “Hi,” Virgil said casually. “Ro. Guess where we’re going for our date?” Stacey asked excitedly. “No clue,” Roman shrugged as Virgil tried to find a polite way to correct Stacey. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go on a real date with Stacey yet. It wouldn’t be fair to her to let her think he was. And even though Roman clearly wasn’t into him, he wanted him to know that it wasn’t a real date for some reason. “The art studio! We’re going to go nuts on a blank canvas together. Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?” she gushed. Virgil was kind of flattered that she was so enthusiastic. But still… “Well… It’s basically just hanging out,” he corrected her gently. To his relief Stacey seemed unbothered by that. “Yeah. What did you call it? Vibe check?” she verified. “Something like that,” he nodded to which Stacey started rambling again. “Basically we’re going to roll with it as friends and see if we click romantically while we are pouring our souls out on canvas. No click? No hard feelings.” Before anything else could be said the teacher arrived, sending Stacey to her own seat. After History he had art with Stacey. Connor Grant was everything he had imagined he would be. “Virgil Anker… You won the prize at last year’s exhibition. I see here you never took an art elective, did you follow classes somewhere else?” he wondered warmly. They were all sitting on the floor in the studio and getting to know one another. “Um, well I watched some tutorials and stuff online and took some inspiration from that,” he explained. “No formal training? Well such raw talent… It’ll be a privilege to help you find your way Virgil. Such a gift, deserves to be developed with proper guidance.” Virgil grew flustered at the praise and the cheers and claps he received. No one seemed envious. Grant was full of praise for everyone’s unique talents though, so that could have something to do with it.

After class he walked over to him. “Um, Mr. Grant. I kind of have two questions, if that’s okay?” he asked timidly. “Ask away,” the man smiled warmly.

“Thanks. Um… I kind of made a portfolio of sorts. Would you mind looking at it?” he asked shakily as he handed the binder over to him. “It would be my pleasure,” Mr. Grant assured him. Feeling empowered Virgil pressed forward. “Is… Are we allowed to use the studio after hours for private projects?” he wondered.

“Of course. The muse does not work on any arbitrary schedule set by us. You can always ask me for the key,” he said as he locked the room and handed the key over to him. “What… Really just like that?” “I have a spare should I need it. But I’ll need that one back after your date with Miss Stacey.” Virgil blushed and bit back his protest. It didn’t matter. He had the key, he could get on with his day.

He hurried to his locker, hoping to find Roman there so they could walk to Math together. Roman hadn’t arrived yet. Drama must be running late. Virgil packed his things humming to himself when he suddenly felt an hand grab his shoulder and turn him around roughly. “We need to talk, now,” Janus said, clearly in a hurry. Virgil frowned. He was right, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore.

“Are you going to apologize to Roman?” he bit. “What?” Janus asked baffled. “Or any of the people you’ve tormented over the past year, if not years?” he doubled down. “Because the only way, you and I are ever going to be on speaking terms again is if you stop acting like everything I despise in this world. Which, in case you are unaware, is a narrow minded, homophobic, bully.” Janus looked down, ashamed, and that gave Virgil hope he really shouldn’t be feeling now. “I already told you Janus. I’m done. When you start acting like my friend again, I’d like to have him back. I miss the Janus I’d stick by no matter what. But the guy I’ve seen the past year… I don’t know who that is. All I know is I want him nowhere near my family.” Janus looked up. “Listen, I messed up. I got mad and I just said the worst thing I could think of okay? I know that won’t excuse it. What with your dad and his boyfriend situation…”

Virgil stiffened. His protective instincts fully engaged. “What do you mean…” when did he learn about Patton? Why hadn’t his parents told him? “If you said something to upset Patton or Logan, I swear!” “NO! I didn’t… I promise. I just… Need you to hear me out, like now. I need to tell you something important. Let’s just go somewhere quiet for a bit. Okay? I swear I’ll leave you alone after… Just, please Virgil, I need you to know…” There was a part of Virgil that saw Janus’ desperation and wanted to answer. Wanted to lower his guard and follow him. Help him out. He shook his head. “I can’t Jan. I want to. Trust me, I really want to be friends again. But I know that if I go with you now, things will just go back to how they were and that… I was being suffocated by you. I didn’t feel like me with you anymore. Even when we were just us, I couldn’t fully be myself. I’m sorry. But I’ll listen, once you’ve proven you're over this whole,” he gestured to the general space between them. “Thing where you think you can control my life. It’s not good for me.” He was about to head to his class when he was pulled back and slammed against the locker, hard. He didn’t have time to protect himself. The impact hurt. But he kept his composure. “Damn it Virgil! Just stop being dramatic and come with me!” Virgil heard people gasp and shout around them. He just stared Janus down, to make sure he saw that there was no doubt in his mind when he replied. “No!” “Let him go Bullard!” Virgil looked up surprised. Roman had come. He was happy to see him. But he didn’t want their friendship to start off with Roman thinking he couldn’t take care of himself.

“I’ve got this Roman,” he told him. Roman looked at him, his gaze steady and calm. “I know. But you don’t have to do this alone.” Virgil took a moment to process that. Right. Roman knew he was capable of standing his ground. This? was different from when Janus would try to ‘protect him’. Roman was being supportive. Not controlling. He had not once decided in Virgil’s stead. The closest he’d gotten to that was that one time he’d been openly critical of his friendship with Janus, for which he’d been apologetic right away. Two of Roman’s friends flanked him, one, Kelly, whispering something to him. Roman nodded in acknowledgement. He raised his head, squared his shoulders and spoke clear and decisive. “I’ll ask one more time. Leave him alone.” Virgil barely registered Janus stepping away. He would’ve crashed to the floor if he hadn’t stabilized himself a little with his shield. He was glad that that power was a rather intuitive one, because he never seemed to have time to decide to use it. And catching himself was not an application he would have come up with on his own. He rubbed at his chest where Janus’ arm had pressed into him, speeding up the recovery. “Think you can take me Castile?” Virgil looked up at Janus, he was walking towards Roman arms lifted as if daring him to hit him. What was he doing? This was the opposite of helpful if he wanted… Didn’t he want them to be friends again? Roman wasn’t intimidated. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of getting me in trouble,” he replied once Janus came to a stop. “So you’re just talk then huh? Afraid to get your butt kicked in front of everyone? Trying to score easy points with Virgil? Hoping I’ll let you steal him from me that easily?” Was he trying to blame Roman for this? Virgil had worried something like that would happen. Janus clearly thought he had no agency of his own. But still… Had he completely lost his mind? “Trying to repay him in some small way for saving my life yesterday. But none of that is any of your business.” Virgil was in awe of how passionate Roman sounded. “Virgil’s decision to finally break free from you has nothing to do with me, and everything with how you’re treating him. I don’t understand what he saw in you that made him stick around this long. But you took it for granted and now it’s done. Leave him alone.”

Just then, Roman’s other friends, including André, arrived and immediately they all started to tell everyone in the audience to get to their classes. As the crowd disappeared Virgil saw the tension leave most of Janus frame. Though he could see him tap his left hand against his leg, a dead giveaway that he was growing more nervous.

“What’s wrong Castile? Don’t want an audience? I thought you lived for the cheers of a crowd?” Roman didn’t budge. “Or maybe this is an exclusive event? Just for your little fanclub and Virgil? Is he your newest devoted follower?”

Virgil winced at the sting of hurt and betrayal in J’s tone. “You guys should head to class,” was Roman’s response to that. His friends did not like that. “You’ll all get in trouble if you don’t get to class in time. Now go. Tell our teacher that Virgil and I will be there soon. I’m not feeling well and Virgil is looking out for me.” Janus scoffed. “Making your friends lie for you Castile? Some friend you are.” Roman quirked a brow, not impressed. “Or tell them the truth. Apparently Bullard wants detention on the first day.” Virgil could tell Janus realized he had made a mistake. Roman’s friends left and Janus doubled down on the false display of confidence. “Now we’re talking! A private show, just for you Virge,” Janus looked back at him, but Virgil didn’t want to reward his behavior with the slightest bit of attention.

He just kept soothing the imprint on his sternum and looked at Roman making sure he wasn’t in any kind of distress right now. “Virge? You okay?” Roman asked. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered. When he tried to walk past Janus though, he was stopped by a brisk hand gesture. He could’ve ignored it, but he could see Janus was seconds away from snapping. He didn’t want to set him off. Not so close to Roman. And besides that, he didn’t like seeing him in pain. “Just get to class. I can handle myself.” Virgil appreciated the thought, really he did. Roman was doing for him what he’d seen Virgil do for others plenty of times in the past. But Virgil had learned by now that that kind of behavior wasn’t very healthy of him either. “Stop mocking me!” Janus exclaimed. Virgil acted without thinking. He ran up to throw himself in between Janus and Roman and then he felt Janus’ fist connect with his stomach at full force. It hurt a lot, and likely would hurt for a while. He fell to his knees, groaning in pain. Roman was at his side in an instant. “V… I...” Virgil looked up and as he blinked away the tears that threatened to overtake his vision he could see Janus was horrified with what just had happened.

Roman was furious. “Messing with him emotionally and mentally isn’t enough for you? You have to resort to physical violence as well? What kind of friend are you?” Virgil flinched. Roman had really picked up on everything hadn’t he? He wanted to argue that Janus would never intentionally attack him, but the way his chest still ached, even though it was drastically overpowered by the pain in his abdomen, was proof that J could lose his temper with him. Janus didn’t respond. He looked down and walked away. Virgil could swear he’d seen tears in his eyes.

Once he was gone Roman turned his attention back to him. “You okay? Should we go to the nurse?” he suggested worriedly. Virgil felt is heart flutter a little at his concerned tone. Roman was making it really hard to get over his crush. But he knew that the nurse wasn’t an option. Besides, he was already healing. “No. Dad will lose it if he knows someone actually hit me. Let’s just go to class. I’ll be fine by the time we get there.” Roman looked uncertain. “Okay, if you are sure.” Clearly he wanted to argue, but he was respecting Virgil’s boundaries. “Thanks for catching that one, but you didn’t have to. I did some self-defense courses. I would’ve been able to get out of harm’s way without hurting him.” Oh? That was interesting. Maybe he could ask Roman for some lessons just in case. He’d watched some videos online on basic self-defense and parkour. The later he’d been practicing every time he went out. Just in case his cloak failed him next time the cops sent someone to figure out who was leaving them packages. You’d think they’d take the intel and not ask too many questions. But clearly that wasn’t the case. They even had heroes on the lookout for him in his regular spots. They must really want to catch him if they went through the footage to get hints on the location where he recorded some of the evidence. “I’ll remember that,” he grinned, trying not to show that most of his upper body was still in various degrees of pain. “Seriously though that’s the second time you’ve jumped to my rescue. Thank you,” Roman said as he helped him up. Virgil once again played off how it hurt with a grin. If not for his healing factor he would probably want to go to a doctor to be safe. And even now he was wondering if whatever he did to heal bruises was good enough to fix more serious injuries. Was it even a serious injury? Or did it just hurt a lot? He promised himself that if he was still in pain when they got to class he’d agree to go to the nurse’s office. It normally didn’t take him long to fix himself. “Guess DreamPrince inspired me to be heroic,” he joked. Because apparently, Dream Prince was now his codename for Roman whenever he was too scared to make his feelings for him obvious. “He does seem to inspire a lot in you. I’m almost envious of him.” Virgil’s heart skipped a beat at that. Did Roman mean…? “I’d love to be the one to inspire someone so much, artistically and the like I mean. Oh, that would be the dream. To be someone’s muse and have them be mine in return.” You already do, Virgil wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Not when he already agreed to give Stacey a shot. “That would be pretty cool I guess,” he said instead finally able to walk without wincing each step. “You sure we don’t need to have you checked out?” Roman was clearly not convinced. Virgil nodded firmly. It was not worth worrying his dad over. “I barely feel it anymore. He didn’t hit that hard,” he shrugged, feeling a little bad for that lie. But he wasn’t ready to tell Roman about his powers yet. Maybe he would be, one day. The rest of the day was hopefully a sample of how the rest of the year would go. Virgil sat next to or near Roman for every class they shared, and he’d allowed himself to sit next to him during lunch. Stacey got a kick out of the fact that Virgil had ‘charmed’ the key from the teacher. Virgil insisted that it was not that big of an accomplishment. They had fun. Stacey had a lot of energy and a curious and adventurous nature. He liked hanging out with her, and he thought she was very attractive. But when the cliché paint fight broke out and they came close enough to feel each other’s breath… Virgil knew that he could kiss her. He could see that she was okay with that. Hoping for it even. It would just take one question and a slight tilt forward… And he wouldn’t mind kissing her. He felt attraction that was for sure. He was even wondering if she’d be as energetic when being kissed as she’d been all night. But he didn’t feel a spark. He’d felt the spark a few times. The little jolt to his heart that told him that he didn’t just want to kiss a person. If that made sense. Not just with Roman, though that spark was still the strongest he’d ever felt. He knew that he liked Stacey, platonically. And he found her attractive, physically. But he wasn’t romantically interested in her. And while he didn’t see the harm in casually kissing... He didn’t want to do that with Stacey. For various reasons. He’d stepped away and Stacey pouted. But she’d agreed that she wasn’t interested in him long term.

She did offer to let him kiss her anyway. For practice. He’d laughed and politely declined to which she pretended to be dramatically disappointed.

When he got home and he told his dads that it was fun, but they were just going to stay friends, he didn’t miss the relief on Logan’s face. He bit back the comment about turning sixteen next October. His dad would have to come to terms with the fact that he was of the dating age sooner or later. But he wasn’t going to push it. He let himself fall onto his bed that night, thinking of Roman and how he definitely would have kissed him. About Janus, and what he’d needed to say. He let those thoughts go though. One day at a time. Today had been okay, all things considered. Maybe tomorrow would be fine too.

Masterlist

Better Together

@moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer​ @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse​ @cirishere​ @hestianerd1​

[crescent-quill-writings]

Rockefeller Ice Rink

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2489

Relationship: James Madison/Marquis de Lafayette

Additional tags: Fluff, Christmas, Ice Skating, Modern AU

Inspired by @ovrarches!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

December in New York City was as charming as it was any other year. It was still early in the season, but the city had already been caught up in the full swing of the holiday spirit. Businesses had been decorated with reds, greens, and golds, and the landmarks of the city were preparing their own grand displays for the coming holidays.

James couldn’t help but smile as soft snowflakes landed amongst his eyelashes. As much as he tried to keep himself from getting caught up in the chaotic festivities of the city that never slept, the little things always got to him.

Once he turned the corner and ducked into the little niche of a cozy cafe, he pulled his ochre scarf below his chin, sighing as he left the winter-chilled air behind him. He allowed the scent of fresh coffee and seasonal spices to fill his nose as he stepped into line, and it didn’t take long before the attention of the barista was focused on him.

“I’ll take a dark chocolate mocha, hold the whipped cream.” He instructed quietly, offering the barista a nod in thanks as she went to prepare his drink and he took a seat in a booth by the window.

James was quiet as he waited for his drink, watching as the hustle and bustle carried each passersby throughout their day. He was happy that the café was quiet save for the instrumental carols that provided a classic, festive atmosphere to the little café. It was pleasant, although James would never fully admit it.

Soon, his name was called and he stood to collect his drink, his lips twitching upwards at the little pair of reindeer painted on the side of the cup as he returned to his seat.

He barely got a chance to bring the mug of warm chocolate to his lips before a familiar face stepped through the door.

“Jemmy! It’s good to see you,” Thomas called, walking past the counter to sit across from his friend, taking a moment to shake some snow out of his hair before he continued, “How’s the season been treating you?”

“It’s nothing that isn’t normal,” James replied with a small sigh as he set down his mug and leaned back in his seat, “I appreciate your concern, Thomas, but you shouldn’t worry yourself over me. We’re not kids anymore; I’ve mostly grown out of my asthma.”

Thomas gave him a bit of a strained smile as he folded his hands in front of him. He was bouncing his leg; James could feel the motion slightly shaking the table and creating little ripples in the surface of his mocha.

“Something on your mind?”

“Sort of,” Thomas began again, giving James another smile, this one nervous instead, “Are you busy at all today?”

“Not particularly, why?” James knew what Thomas’ tone meant. He was about to ask for a favour, or spring some social event on him. Or both.

“Do you remember Lafayette? I roomed with him when I was working in France a little while ago,” Thomas replied, tilting his head as he tapped his fingers on the table, “He actually just moved here last month, made fast friends with Alexander and his group too.”

“And you're telling me this because…?”

“I may or may not have already told him that you could go ice skating at Rockefeller with all of us today.”

And there it was. James could only sigh in response, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Thomas, you know I’m not exactly a social person.”

“I know, I know,” Thomas replied with a sigh of his own, looking down and away from James in shame, “But he really wants to meet you, Jemmy. I told him a lot about you back in France and he’s excited about this.”

“Don’t ‘Jemmy’ me now,” James muttered, turning his gaze to his mocha in an attempt to ignore the pouts and whines that Thomas was trying to persuade him with.

“Come on, Jemmy, just this once? For me? It’s only a couple of hours, and I’ll owe you big time…”

“Fine,” James relinquishes with a huff, “You better not forget about this favour either.”

He didn’t give Thomas time to respond before he stood, taking his mug with him as he approached the counter and cleared his throat to get the attention of the barista.

“Could you put this in a to-go cup?”

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 The Rockefeller Centre was busy enough any other time of year, packed with native New Yorkers and tourists alike. The holiday season only dialled up the crowds to eleven.

The Christmas tree, though it was still in the process of being decorated before its grand unveiling, still caught the gaze of the many from the grandeur of its sheer size. There were streams of people coming in and out of the stores surrounding the square, the buildings of which were all dressed up in festive colours and to market themselves for the holidays.

It was New York’s beautiful, chaotic, and imperfect celebrations were well underway.

“I still miss the South’s way of celebrating this season,” James muttered as he did his best to keep up with Thomas’ long strides while he struggled to swim upstream through the mass of people, “It’s much classier, and causes much less anxiety too.”

“As much as I agree with you, James,” Thomas replied with a shake of his head, looking down and back at his much shorter friend, “Try to keep your chin up, alright? We’re here to have fun with some friends.”

James only huffed in response, looking down at the cup he held in his gloved hands. He just hoped he’d get a chance to finish his mocha soon.

“Thomas, mon ami! I am so glad that you could make it.”

James looked up as another man began to approach them. His resemblance to Thomas was uncanny, and save for a few details of his face and the neat bun that held back his thick curls, they could have easily been identical twins.

“I always keep my promises, Lafayette, it’s nice to see you too.”

James watched as they shared a few more words he couldn’t make out, most likely because they weren’t in English, before they pressed a pair of quick pecks to each of each others’ cheeks. It confused him for a moment until he remembered something about French greetings, and then Lafayette’s attention was on him.

“And you must be le petit James! Thomas has talked a lot about you, I am glad to finally meet you in person.” Lafayette’s demeanour was sugar, spice, and everything nice.

James had to catch himself before the icy appearance he usually kept with strangers melted away. He sent a quick glance to Thomas to ask for a translation of the words he didn’t recognize, but when he received a shake of the head in response, he decided not to dwell on it.

“Thomas has said many things about you too,” James replied with a curt nod, shifting his mocha to his left hand so he could extend the other for a handshake, “It is nice to meet you too.”

Maybe Lafayette didn’t see James’ hand, or maybe he simply ignored it, because as he a warm laugh bubbled past his lips he leaned down and pressed two quick kisses to James’ cheeks.

Almost immediately heat rushed to his faced as he stared up at the Frenchman with a flustered gape, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he tried to find an appropriate response.

“Oh, mon Dieu! I am so sorry, James, I forgot- I was only trying to be polite. That is how I would greet friends back in France.” Lafayette quickly replied once he realized what he’d done, taking hold of James’ still-extended hand in his mitted grip as he continued to murmur apologies.

Thomas, who had been watching this scene unfold with a guileful grin, couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore, “Don’t worry about it, Laf. James doesn’t take offence that easily, right?”

In the moment James finally managed to collect himself, giving a simple nod in response as he tucked his hand back in his pocket, “Of course not. Uhm, are the others here too?”

At the change of topic Lafayette smiled again, offering a nod in response, “Yes, they’re already on the ice. I just wanted to wait for you two.”

“How sweet,” Thomas replied, giving the Frenchman’s shoulder a pat to grab his attention, “Why don’t we go grab ourselves some skates and get in on the action before they’re all tuckered out, hm?”

Lafayette smiled brighter this time with another nod as he followed Thomas to the little skate rental booth, going on to chat about something or other in his same sweet excitement.

James simply watched them leave, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he turned away to find a place by the boards where he could watch. It’s not like he had the skills to join in on the fun anyways, and here he finally got to enjoy his mocha.

He was quiet in his content as he sipped at the dark chocolate drink. It had lost some of its original heat, but it was still pleasant to hold and helped warm his chilled body. He turned his attention to the skaters a moment later, searching for the faces he recognized.

He saw Alexander and John laughing together as they ducked and wove between the other skaters in a rush to go nowhere. He watched for a moment as Burr stumbled for a moment before catching himself on Hercules, a giant of a man that looked a little out of place on the ice. Then, his gaze drifted back to Thomas and Lafayette, though he was only focused on the Frenchman.

James couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up in a smile. Lafayette’s eyes were warm, like the gentle glow of a candle on Christmas Eve. He watched the corners of the Frenchman’s eyes crinkle up as he laughed, and James felt himself mirroring the expression before he snapped himself out of his little daze.

“Get a hold of yourself, James.” He muttered, turning away as he finished off his mocha.

Still, he couldn’t help himself as he went back to watching Lafayette.

And that’s when their gazes met.

The Frenchman’s lips curled down into a frown, tilting his head in show of his confusion before he said a quick goodbye to Thomas and started to approach.

“Do you not want to join us, mon petit? I hope it is not because of me, I truly did not mean you any offence.”

“No, you’re alright,” James replied, hoping that it wasn’t noticable how his breath hitched when Lafayette touched his hand, “It’s just…”

“Is something the matter?”

James glanced away, clearing his throat. He tried to force down the embarrassed flush that tingled in his cheeks as he spoke, words not much more than a whisper, “… I can’t skate.”

Lafayette blinked for a moment, and James still didn’t look back at him before he heard sweet laughter bubble past the Frenchman’s lips. “If that is it, mon petit, then there is nothing you should worry about! Come, I will teach you.”

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I will teach you!” The Frenchman repeated with a beaming smile that James just couldn’t bring himself to say no to.

James’ cheeks were still warm with embarrassment as Lafayette hopped over the boards and held his hand, both figuratively and literally, through the process of renting and tying his skates before leading him to the edge of the rink.

“I’m not so sure about this…” James murmured. His steps were already shaky enough as he tiptoed behind the Frenchman, he didn’t know what would happen if he dared to step on the ice.

“Just don’t let go of my hands, yes? I will make sure you don’t fall.” Lafayette reassured, his words gentle and his smile as sweet as sugar.

James nodded, taking a wobbly step into the ice. He nearly slipped right out of the gate, but Lafayette was there, keeping his hands in his tight yet comfortable grip.

“See? It is not so hard. Just follow my lead, I will make sure you are alright.” Lafayette added with a soft laugh and a little smile. Sugar, spice, and everything nice.

James wasn’t sure if his legs were wobbling because of the skates or the fact that at this rate the Frenchman was going to make him melt.

He gave a small nod in response, smiling a little bit as he began to slowly glide forwards. Of course, Lafayette was doing most of the work, but he still let himself feel a little proud that he was getting somewhere.

James let his lips twitch up into a smile as he glanced up at Lafayette, and a different kind of heat flushed to his cheeks at how the Frenchman was looking back at him.

There was a gentle pride shining in his eyes as he smiled back down at James, giving his hands a little reassuring squeeze. He was nothing but genuine, soft and sweet in all his actions and words.

James couldn’t help the heat that flushed to his cheeks again and how his legs began to wobble. Whatever was left of his icy composure had long melted away, and apparently so did his balance.

“Oh Dieu!”

Lafayette wrapped his arms around James’ waist in an attempt to keep them both upright, but the Frenchman had already been knocked off balance. He fell back, landing flat on his backside with James pressed flush against his chest.

They slid to a stop a moment later, both staring at each other with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

James burst into laughter; it was all he could think to do in the moment. The sound rang clear like a bell as he relaxed against Lafayette’s chest. The Frenchman soon joined in, his own laughter a bright chiming sound that tickled James’ cheeks as it bubbled up from his chest.

“I’m sorry,” James began to speak, slowly calming down after taking a few deep breaths, “I don’t quite know what happened there.”

“It is quite alright, mon petit,” Lafayette replied, shaking his head. He was still laughing, though the chime had quieted down, “You did quite well for your first time, you should be proud.”

James smiled more with a quiet hum and a nod in response. He began to shift so that Lafayette would be able to stand again, and in turn, the Frenchman helped him back up onto his feet.

“I should repay you for doing all of this for me… Do you like hot chocolate? I know a good café that’s not far from here.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, mon petit.”

[darley1101]

Thursday “Tease”

I realize Thursday “tease” isn’t a real thing but just for today I am making it one! I have had few hiccups in my efforts to finish my requests for the week so I thought I would “tease” a few blurbs from them. These are all unedited and not the final product. I don’t believe I have shared anything that requires a warning other than a few curse words but if you feel differently please respectfully reach out and let me know. 

From HOME 

MOTY Thomas x MC requested by @ao719 

It had been a craptastic day. If something could go wrong, it had. From clients who showed up late to judges who were still tipsy from the night before to baristas who didn't know how to properly secure a lid on steaming hot cups of coffee, Thomas Mendez had tried to handle each obstacle with some semblance of dignity. Walking out of the courthouse to find his car being towed thanks to a meter maid who didn't look old enough to be out of diapers cracked his usually cool demeanor. “I'm a lawyer, I have a parking pass,” he had argued. “It's in the glove box.” Faux cop hadn't given two fucks. In fact, the little shit had seemed almost giddy; particularly when he started parroting some bull shit about parking in reserved parking without a pass. “I told you. I have a pass. It's in the glove box. If you would call off your tow truck and give me two minutes I could show you.”

From OR ELSE 

Perfect Match Damien and Nadia friendship with mention of Damien x MC/AVA rquested by @itslaniquelove

“I met someone.” It was on the tip of Damien's tongue to remind Nadia that she was always meeting someone and most of them turned out to be stalkers or worse. “His name is Steve. And before you ask, no I don't need you to check this one out. Eros did all that before we even met.”

“Eros?” 'Please don't be another dating app,' he silently chanted.

“Yeah.” Nadia leaned forward, her dark eyes bright with excitement. “It's this match matching service that guarantees love.”

Fuck. It was another dating app. “I thought we agreed no more dating apps. Only stalkers, serial killers, and bald guys named Jim who want pictures of your toes use those things.”

Her eyes rolled and she flopped back in her chair. “It's not a dating app...it's an actual service...in an honest to God building. And,” she shot him a wounded look, “I thought we agreed you wouldn't fetish shame Jim anymore.”

Who else has something to “tease” their readers with? 

[doc-pickles]

the jolex college AU that literally no one asked for

Soooo I did a thing. I’ve actually had 90% of this in my drafts for awhile and I just decided to finish it today. (nina you said you didn’t have any fics in your drafts. WELL I’M STUPID SO THERE’S THAT) I’m not planning on expanding this past a one shot but it’s a fun little AU that my mind kicked up one night while watching 14x15 and drinking too much sangria. It’s not polished up or beta read but I figured something is better than nothing :) 

also TW// jo swears like a freaking sailor in this fic

“A fucking fire alarm? Really?!”

Jo Wilson was not one to be inconvenienced, especially not while she was in the damn shower. She let a groan out as the water above her shut off, probably an incentive to get her out of the building in case it really was on fire. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jo muttered to herself, reaching for her towel. After wrapping it around herself, she realized that she hadn’t brought her clothes with her. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Fuming with anger, Jo began to walk down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor and out the front door of Earl Hall. Various cat calls and whoops met Jo’s ears, but she was too angry with whoever the hell set off the fire alarm to acknowledge them. 

“Wilson! You trying to give us a show here,” Jo turned at her name, staring down Andrew DeLuca as he attempted to get under her skin… or under her towel. “I wouldn’t say no to a free peep show.”

“Oh shove off DeLuca, you’ll fuck anything with a pulse,” Jo retorted, earning a howl of laughter from DeLuca’s friends. “I’ll show off the goods to anyone who can tell me who set off the fucking fire alarm while I was showering though.”

“That would be me.”

Jo whipped around, one hand coming to hold the bottom of her towel in place as she came face to face with the person who had effectively ruined her day. 

She hadn’t met the man before, but Jo was instantly mesmerized. He wore a dark blue shirt and plaid boxer shorts, hair ruffled at odd angles and the beginnings of a scruffy beard appearing on his sharp jawline. The man was handsome and by God did Jo just want to fuck him right there and then. 

Kill him. Kill him right there and then. 

Jesus Christ Jo, pull your head out of your vagina. 

“So you’re the asshole that set off the alarm,” Jo asked, eyebrow raising as if daring him to refute her words. “Well hi, I’m Jo and I’m fucking pissed at you.”

“I’m Alex and I really enjoy your talent for slipping the word ‘fuck’ into almost every sentence that comes out of your mouth,” Jo stared back at Alex, unamused by his joke. “Listen I’m sorry, I was trying to study for chem and my hot plate burned a hole through my notebook. You should be back in soon if it’s any consolation.”

As if by fate, the fire alarm stopped ringing and someone shouted that it was safe to go back in. Students began to file in but Jo and Alex kept their staring match going. She couldn’t tell if it was the mounting sexual tension between them or just plain old hostility, but Jo couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man in front of her. 

“You’re on my fucking shit list Alex,” Jo stated firmly before walking away. “You better watch it!”

“Hey! You didn’t hold up your end of things,” Alex called out, causing Jo to turn back around and lift an eyebrow in question. “You said that you would ‘show off the goods’ to anyone who told you why the fire alarm went off. Well that was me.”

Jo paused momentarily, thoughts racing a million miles a minute before she moved closer to Alex and opened her towel up. Eyes wide, Alex immediately diverted his gaze away from Jo, not anticipating that she would actually flash him. With a satisfied smirk, Jo tucked her towel back into place and walked back towards the dorm hall. 

“Have a good fucking night Alex!”

+

“If I never end up at another frat party it’ll be too soon,” Jo complained, swatting a hand away from her ass as she followed her roommate towards the kitchen. “Why’d you have to drag me out here, Hannah? You know Brandon trolls these parties looking for unsuspecting girls to trick into dating him so he can cheat on them a month in.”

Hannah looked at Jo with a bored expression, as if to say she was tired of hearing this story over and over again. 

“We get it, you hate Brandon Thomas and everything he stands for,” Hannah rolled her eyes and handed a red solo cup to Jo. “But you realize that this is the Kappa house and Brandon is in Chi Omega. They’re sworn enemies, you’ll never see him here unless the planets align and someone’s sacrificed a virgin to the moon god.”

Jo rolled her eyes, lips coming to the cup and taking a large swallow of the jungle juice inside. She didn’t really know anyone at these parties, but there was always free alcohol and she had a pocket knife stashed in her bra in case she got into trouble. 

“Jo, promise me you won’t kill me but Brandon is here,” Jo’s head whipped around to look at Hannah, eyes wide as she stared her roommate down. “He’s by the front door, just turn around and walk towards the backyard and you’ll never see each other.”

Jo eyed the back door, only 50 feet from where she was standing. She could definitely make it there without being noticed. Weaving through the crowd, Jo was positive she would get out without accident. 

“Jo! Is that you?”

Brandon’s voice sounded over the crowd, making Jo cringe as she realized she had been caught. She looked around in a panic, almost yelling as a pair of arms slid around her waist. 

“Just play along, I hate that douche bag too,” Jo looked up in shock, realizing that the person that had grabbed her was the guy who had set off the fire alarm last week. “Nice to fucking see you, Jo.”

“Oh you’re a piece of- MMM,” Jo was cut off by Alex’s lips pressing into hers. Jungle juice and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Jo presses back against him. Alex holds her against him for a minute more, one hand trailing to grab her ass while the other pulls her closer into his embrace. Her free hand unconsciously comes up to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and Jo swears she can feel him moan under the pounding sounds of bass music that surround them. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, he pulls away with a crooked grin. 

“Sorry, that prick Thomas was walking by, had to give him a show. You’re welcome.” 

Alex walks away from Jo then, leaving her standing in the middle of a frat house party completely confused. 

+

“Jo! I’m walking out the door but your alarm has been going off for 20 minutes!” Hannah slammed the door to the dorm room, abruptly waking Jo up. She looked to her bedside clock, groaning loudly as she realized that she had 15 minutes to get across campus to her 9:30 AM class. 

“Well fuck,” Jo bemoaned as she rolled out of bed, grabbing whatever clothes were around her and throwing them on. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t miss O Chem again. Fuck!”

Rushing out the door, Jo let her worn out sneakers pound across the pavement towards her Organic Chemistry class. It was only week two of spring semester and she couldn’t risk missing class for a second time. 

Skidding into the lecture hall, Jo raced past a few students and slid into the back row of her class only five minutes late. She let out a loud breath, pulling her notebook out of her backpack as she tried to tune into the professor.

“You know you might be able to learn more if you show up on time,” Jo’s head snapped up as she looked to her left, realizing that the seat she had chosen was right next to Alex. “Funny seeing you here.”

“You have a lot of nerve trying to talk to me again after what you did at that house party,” Jo kept her eyes locked on her notebook, refusing to even glance at Alex as she started writing notes. “Even if you did save my ass, who goes around kissing strangers?”

“We’re not strangers. I know that your name is Jo and we live in the same hall and you smuggle cereal out of the dining hall when you think no one is looking,” Alex shrugged, eyes trained on the lecturer at the front of the hall. “And you’ve shown me your rack, I feel like that counts for something too.”

Side eyeing the man next to her, Jo watched Alex listening intently to their professor. He had a serious expression painted on his face, one that made him look years older than he was. Today he wore a forest green sweatshirt that bore the university’s wrestling team logo. Jo thought back to the first time she met Alex, remembering the way his shoulders and arms were built up more than anything else on his lean body. His dark hair and eyes that had instantly caught Jo’s eye seemed harsher under the fluorescent lighting of the classroom. This version of Alex that she was staring at today seemed so different than the Alex who accidentally set his chemistry book on fire and kissed her at a party to help her avoid her cheating ex. This Alex… well he seemed cold and unapproachable. 

“Okay that only proves that you’ve been stalking me,” Jo rolled her eyes. “What do you want? Are you expecting me to sleep with you? Or help you with your homework? Because that’s a no on all of the above.”

“Nah figured you needed a friend,” Alex shrugged, pencil tapping against the edge of his textbook. “You seem like the lonely type.”

“I am not lonely,” Jo’s voice comes out louder than intended. Her next words are softer as she glares at Alex, their teacher and lesson long forgotten. “I’m just selective about who I spend my time with.”

She does try to concentrate on her work then, but Jo can feel Alex’s eyes boring into the side of her head. He frustrates her, angers her in a way that nobody has before and she can’t decide if she wants to punch him in the face or kiss him until she can’t breathe. 

Wait what?

Jo shook her head, trying to clear out the image of a shirtless and sweaty Alex out of her mind. She was not going to start fantasizing about the handsome muscular man who’s lips felt like velvet against hers and who’s hand on her ass made her feel like-

“You’re drooling.”

Her hand flew up to her cheek, wiping at the small pool of liquid as her cheeks flamed red. She chanced looking over to Alex, who wore a shit eating grin that was slightly crooked. Damn it, keep it in your panties Jo!

“I was thinking about… dinner tonight,” Jo nodded, keeping her gaze forward. “Probably going to get… take out, something fast and easy.”

“Fast and easy, huh?,” Jo could swear that Alex’s voice took on a husky quality to it as he lowered his volume. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine as she futilely tried to calm the rising sensations in her body. ”That’s my favorite. For dinner I mean, I love it fast… and easy…” 

Whipping her head around, Jo locked her eyes with Alex’s. The intensity of their stares almost scared her, but more than that Jo was desperate. She wanted this complete stranger (and total asshole) in the worst ways possible, her mind conjuring up images that would send her straight to Hell if she dared to say them out loud. 

“I have no idea what the professor is talking about,” Jo admitted, eyes watching Alex’s lips as her tongue darted out wet her own. “But I really wanna get out of here.”

“If I fail this class because of you, you’re never gonna hear the end of it,” Alex was hastily shoving his books into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as Jo rose and made a beeline for the door. 

The pair ignored the stares they got from their classmates as they raced out the door, jetting into the empty hallway in a fit of giggles. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Jo found herself in Alex’s embrace. He pinned her against the wall, lips hungrily devouring hers as her hands fisted his hair roughly.

“Come on lover boy,” Jo smirked, hand tangling in Alex’s own as she broke apart from him and dragged him down the hall. “My roommate has classes for the rest of the day so my dorm is empty.”

[stillebesat]

The New Hire

Sanders Sides: Roman, Logan, Virgil Blurb: Roman has never known his brother, Logan, to break a promise. Until now.  Fic Type: General, Human!AU Inspiration: For the Anon who asked to see Roman’s POV from my other Fic The Interview.  Warnings: None  Taglist in Reblog. Author’s Note: This fic is Roman’s POV of events that occur halfway through Chapter 4 of The Interview, but you don’t necessarily need to read it in order to enjoy this oneshot. :)

Roman ran a hand through his hair as he stalked through the halls of StoryTime!, growling under his breath as he descended to the next floor. 

Of course. It was just like Lo to vanish from his office right when Roman needed him. For being known to never leave the building, Specs sure had a knack for not being where he was supposed to be when Roman’s Creative Muse decided it needed a second opinion. 

Must be a twin thing. He distinctly recalled Logan complaining that Roman had done the same to him.

Still.

It was really unlike Lo to so completely disappear from the upper levels that it had forced Roman to search the entire building for him. 

He exhaled, turning to go down yet another hallway, head on a swivel. It was unfortunate that their twin telepathy didn’t extend to tracking because if Roman didn’t know better, he would think Specs had left early. 

Ha.

The sun would split in two first. 

And--Roman glanced at his phone as he came to the balcony overlooking the lobby below, swearing under his breath when he saw the time. 

Sure, he supposed his Creative Muse was at fault for having a light bulb moment right before he was due to go interview yet another starry-eyed dreamer for StoryTime!’s creative team, but he hadn’t thought half an hour would make so much of a difference until he couldn’t find Specs.

Now though he’d have to--there! 

Roman straightened, a thrill of triumph rushing through him at spotting his twin about to enter the elevator below with some other guy in tow. “SPECS!” He called, his voice echoing around the lobby as he rushed for the stairs. “THERE you are!” 

Finally. Maybe he could tell Lo his brilliant idea on the ride up. Maybe two minutes would be enough time to get his opinion before Roman had to bound and gag his Creative Muse so he could focus on being dull and boring long enough to get through the interview process before once more allowing his muse to run free. 

At least this time Remy had sworn up and down that this interview wouldn’t be a waste of his time because he was certain that this Virgil person would pass Roman’s stringent pre-qualifications for getting hired.

Crofters he hoped so. He was tired of having his new hires wash out. 

Forgoing using the stairs in favor of sliding down the railing to get to him that much quicker, Roman landed in front of his twin before the elevator doors had finished opening. “About time I found you!” He said, jabbing a finger at him as his brother dropped a smile that Roman long ago discovered meant trouble though he had no idea how that related to him or the purpled haired disaster in a suit standing next to his twin. 

He’d have to ask later. Creative Muse needed answers. NOW. 

“You have perfect timing as always, Roman.” His brother said, placing a hand on the kid’s elbow, pulling him inside the elevator. “I was just heading back upstairs to find you.” 

Roman blinked. “Find me? What for?” He demanded, following the two of them inside, hitting the button for the ninth floor. “I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to track you down and now you want to find me?” 

Sometimes their ability to know when one of them needed another was a freaking curse. But seriously, what were the odds that they would both go seek out the other at the same time! 

Roman ran a hand through his hair, fighting back his irritation. And with a stranger in the elevator there was no way he could use this brief interlude to get Lo’s opinion. He didn’t tell just anyone his brilliant ideas before they were fully realized. “Of course you do this to me two minutes before my next interview--”

“For Virgil right?” 

Roman gaped at him, eyes narrowing as the doors slid shut. Okay, their twin telepathy didn’t extend that far. “How did you--” 

“I just hired him for your department.” Logan said, gesturing to the third member of their little elevator party.

Roman froze, blood roaring in his ears as he clenched his hands, fighting to not hit the emergency button that would stop the elevator in place so he could have longer than twenty seconds to clarify that he hadn’t heard what he just thought he’d heard. 

“You. WHAT?!” 

They’d freaking TALKED about this! After the disaster that occurred two years and ten months ago with Logan’s meddling they had come to an agreement that his twin wouldn’t interfere with Roman’s methods for hiring people! 

Surely Logan. His twin. The superhuman computer that could recall the most mundane information at the drop of a hat hadn’t forgotten that little fact and hired this fashion disaster of an emo in front of him without consulting Roman first. Right?

Wrong.

“I hired him--am I not speaking clearly today?” Logan asked, looking to the kid with a raised eyebrow. “You did the same thing when I told you you were hired too.” 

The kid--Virgil shook his head as he crossed his arms, rubbing the spot Lo had grabbed when he’d been pulled into the elevator. “No. It’s just a statement that not many people will find believable...apparently.” He said, mismatched eyes -which really had a unique color shade that Roman would love to take a moment to dra--NO. Stay FOCUSED. One Creative Muse idea at a time!...after dealing with this potential PR disaster. 

“Oh no, it’s believable,” Though he hoped the kid’s portfolio was a cut above his ability to dress himself, otherwise Remy would receive quite the earful on what qualified meant when he got back. “If I allowed your interview to be scheduled in the first place.” But If Logan liked him enough to hire him...Roman was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign. A pity. Remy had been quite convincing that Virgil would work out.

“But, Specs!” Roman growled, glaring at his twin as he held out his hand for what could only be Virgil’s portfolio under his arm. He hoped Lo had actually looked through it this time before pulling the trigger. “We agreed you wouldn’t interfere--”

“With your hires.” Logan finished. “I know. But trust me, brother.” He said, stressing the word as he handed Roman the portfolio. 

Brother. 

A word that should never have been used between them while within StoryTime!’s walls. 

Roman froze, eyes flicking to Virgil and back. “He?”

Logan’s eyes glittered, but not with anger. No, Roman would have thought they were filled with silent laughter as he adjusted his tie. “Knows we’re related, thanks to you.” 

WHAT?! HOW?! Oh no. Lo couldn’t blame this on him! He’d never even seen the kid before now!

“To me?! I haven’t said a word--” He denied, taking the portfolio and flipping it open as he leaned against the wall, barely taking in the images on the page. He valued his independence far too much to let just anyone know that he and Logan were related in any way shape or form. 

Gah. He fought back a shudder. No. NO. Roman would do anything to keep that particular secret from getting out. He’d done his time in school being treated like he and Logan were the same person unable to form their own identities outside of being the Prince Twins. 

And yet.

Somehow the secret had gotten out. 

HOW?! 

“Virgil.” Logan said, turning to the third occupant in the elevator. “Care to explain?”

And WHY was Lo taking this earth shattering revelation so calmly?!  

“I…” Virgil flushed under their combined stares, setting his chin stubbornly. “The Sherlock screenplay.”

….Come again? That screenplay hadn’t ever seen the light of day! Well...beyond the one picture he’d posted ages ago. Roman frowned, flipping to another page, watching from the corner of his eye as Virgil visibly paled, hands gripping onto the railing around the elevator. 

“I-I noticed that Logan’s name wasn’t completely covered when you took the picture” 

And Roman thought you couldn’t stop a heart more than once. 

Apparently he was wrong. 

Surely. SURELY that photo he’d posted wasn’t their downfall. He’d been careful to cover Logan’s name! He was sure of it! Yet this kid was telling him that--that---

“And I dug around a bit--” Virgil swallowed, darting glances between the two of them. “Do people here really not know you’re related?” 

Ha. They both shook their heads. “No.” 

That was the whole point of Logan becoming known as Specs here. Why Thomas had agreed that his real name wouldn’t be found anywhere in StoryTime!’s records. Why Logan had taken to wearing glasses again instead of contacts. To give them a chance to be seen as individuals and not as a pair.

Virgil scoffed, gesturing between them. “But you two look exactly the same!” 

“Only a handful know.” Logan clarified, pointedly adjusting his glasses. 

“Like three people--Specs does great as Clark Kent--” Roman jerked his head up from the portfolio. Wait. “Don’t tell me you hired him because he’s blackmailing you!?” He demanded, jabbing a finger at Virgil. 

Surely Logan wouldn’t let himself be backed into such a corner! He was the one who’d ensured that people wouldn’t connect that they were related. One little picture couldn’t have done so much damage that Logan couldn’t get out of being blackmailed into giving the kid a job because of it! 

Virgil flinched, but took a step forward, eyes blazing. “I wouldn’t do that, Princey.” He growled. 

So the purple wallflower did have some bark. “Princey?” Roman repeated, narrowing his eyes. Not the most unique of nicknames but...usually people didn’t do that here. Nickname him back. It was always ‘Yes, Mr. Prince. No, Mr. Prince. I can’t take it anymore and I quit!, Mr. Prince.’

It was...refreshing in a way.

Virgil faltered, glancing to Logan. “I--I---uh.” 

Crofters, he was like a feral kitten confronting a Lion. 

Logan shot him a look, eyes glittering with that hidden humor again, before giving Virgil a reassuring smile. “Go on, Virgil. Speak your mind.” 

Logan was encouraging this? WHY?!

Virgil set his jaw, staring Roman down despite the obvious tremor to his hands. “I’m here because you were willing to give me a chance, sir. No other motive. I want to work here on my own merit. Not through...through blackmail.” He practically spat the word. “My Two Princes theory was just that. A theory until Lo--Specs here confirmed it.” 

Logan visibly winced at that. 

Huh. Roman tilted his head. That was....something. "Well…color me impressed that you got Dr. Roboto here to confirm anything, kid. Usually he's sealed tighter than a jar of Crofters." Usually Roman was the only one who could convince Lo to reveal things he didn’t want revealed. 

He snapped the portfolio shut as the elevator doors opened, hiding the artwork from any potential prying eyes. No need to let anyone else see them just yet. Not until Roman actually agreed on the hiring of this kid. Not until he could actually sit down and look at the images himself. "Don't count your eggs though. I'm not so easily swayed." 

Logan rolled his eyes. "Page twenty-eight." He said tapping the top of the portfolio as they stepped out onto the landing. "Then you'll understand one of the factors that lead to me hiring Virgil." 

Roman scoffed. "One image led you to hire him over my head? Are you addled?" 

What could be so good that Logan chose to defy him and hire the kid? Sure, Remy had sworn that Virgil would be a good fit. But no one could be so unique as to get hired on one page alone!

"I would…agree." Virgil said slowly, biting his lip as he glanced to the portfolio in Roman’s arms. 

Roman blinked. Come again? “You agree?” 

Sure, people usually agreed with him to try and stay in his good graces, but most artists would preen over the knowledge that one image got them hired. 

Virgil shrugged one shoulder, glancing between the two of them as they made their way down the hallway. “Well...yah. Compared to my other works, I don't see how that one-"

The kid thought his other works were better? Logan hired him on this one mystery image that he was confident would rock his brother’s world and it wasn’t even a piece that Virgil thought was his best work?

How good was this kid?

How stupid was his brother? 

Logan shook his head, pulling open the door to Roman’s office, gesturing them inside. 

Typical. Roman fought not to bristle at the fact that his twin was taking charge in HIS domain. 

"I can assure you both that my cognitive function has been unaffected in my decision.” Logan said at least allowing Roman the dignity to enter first. “Your overall work is beyond noteworthy, Virgil, and while the one drawing is A factor.” He stressed the word, eyes once again glittering with that humor as Roman took his seat, plopping the portfolio on top of the desk. “For my decision to hire you, it is not The factor. Your work shows a much larger variety than any others I’ve seen.” 

Roman frowned. Okay...so maybe his brother wasn’t soo addled. But still. One image? “The thing weighs a ton, I would hope it would show some range.” He said, once more flipping through the pages to see what was so great about this ‘page twenty-eight.’ 

Honestly...from his quick glances at the other pieces...he could see why Remy and Logan had both been impressed. There was variety, creativity with lighting and color, a feel of familiarity that already sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was on a mission Roman would have stopped to inspect each piece more closely so he could figure out why it felt so familiar when he’d never met this kid before. 

It really didn’t help that he couldn’t see why Logan would decide to blatantly break his promise.

“I wouldn’t think you’d mind the size, Roman.” Logan said, straightening his tie. “You are the one interviewing for ‘fresh blood’ are you not or was there another reason you were whining to me just last night about the lack of talent in your department?” 

HEY! He pushed to his feet, hand resting on the page before the supposed glorious I-can-break-my-promise-and-hire-you-on-the-spot artwork that had Logan running rogue in his department. 

His bemoaning the lack of creativity in his department was a thing said in total confidence and shouldn’t be broadcasted to the new guy even if he was in on their little sibling secret no matter how good this art piece was. 

"A Prince does not whine!” He declared, flipping the page. “I merely bemoan the lack of talent people these days seem to ha--” Roman froze taking in the aching familiar Sallyized version of Jack Skellington that had been his obsession and lock screen on his phone for the past six months. “WHAT?!” 

He didn’t realize he yelled the last word until Logan smirked, adjusting his glasses as he closed the blinds on the windows to Roman’s office.

Yah probably not a good idea to let others see him totally fangirling, but AAHHHH!!!!! He couldn’t believe it!

Roman shoved to his feet, heart pounding like a drum in his chest as he practically climbed over the desk to shove the picture into the Virgil’s startled face. "You drew this?!" 

No way no way no way! He HAD to be dreaming!!! This kid was his beloved Stormcloud?! 

Virgil blinked down Jack Skellington before raising an eyebrow, mismatch eyes shining with confusion. "Yes?"

Oh. OH. OH! CHRISTMAS HAD COME EARLY!! Roman placed the portfolio on the desk, careful to keep it open to page twenty-eight because he wasn’t quite convinced just yet that he wasn’t dreaming and if he closed the portfolio maybe it would disappear but no. This had to be real! He pulled out his phone, quickly pulling up Stormcloud’s webpage with the Sallyized version of Jack front and center with the exact same stormcloud signature on the bottom, before shoving his phone in Virgil’s face, the kid practically going cross eyed in the process. “You're telling me this is you?” He asked, anticipation filling every fiber of his being. “That you're--!"

"EmoKnightmare478?" Virgil asked without missing a beat as he ran his hand through his hair. “Yah. That's me, Princey, but how--why?" 

“YES!” Roman cried out, grabbing Logan and pulling him into a waltz around the room that only lasted for like two seconds before he had to stop and just jump up and down in a circle with Specs like the fangirl he was at this wondrous turn of events. "YES YES YES YES YES YES!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, LOGAROO!! YOU FOUND STORMCLOUD! HE APPLIED! HE WANTS TO WORK--!! LOGAN! AHHHHH!!!!" 

“Am I...missing something here?” Virgil asked, resting a hand, protectively on his artwork, safely keeping his distance from Roman’s prancing.

“Roman’s been a fan of your account for the past couple of years.” Logan said simply, looking over his shoulder at their new hire as he turned in place with Roman. “He looks forward to seeing your bi-montly updates like one looks forward to opening presents at Christmas.”

Virgil went white, his other hand reaching to grab onto the desk as he swayed. “You’re a Fan?” He squeaked. 

"OF COURSE!!” Roman cried, finally freeing his twin from his finger-numbing grip to fall down to his knees at Virgil’s feet, arms spread wide. Even the Greats had people that they secretly admired. “Do you know how much I positively adore your twist on a Nightmare Before Christmas series?” He asked eagerly. Every piece had been simply superb. A gift from the Gods. A supreme act of creativity that Roman could only hope to replicate. Stormcloud had taken his favorite Halloween movie and brought it to new heights, giving complexities to even the minorest of characters leaving him in awe every single time. 

“Tell me.” Roman said, still on his knees, clasping his hands together like a beggar. “What would it take to commission you to draw the entire cast Sallyized for me? One large painting to hang there over my desk? Anything's on the table. Name your price." 

“I--I--uhhh--” Virgil leaned away, hands scrambling on the desk. 

Logan exhaled, grabbing Roman by the shoulder. “Perhaps you should tone down the adoration and stop terrorizing your new hire?” He suggested, tightening his grip.

Right. Right. Roman batted away Lo���s hand, rising to his feet. Of course. This wasn’t a Comic Con convention. He had to maintain some sort of decorum, but THIS WAS HIS STORMCLOUD HOW COULD HE NOT BE EXCITED?! 

“He’s--He’s not--” Virgil drew in a shallow breath. 

Not what? Not serious about his request for a commission because he definitely was! 

Logan shook his head. “Well...even if he’s not, I shall assuage your fears anyway. You will still have your job even if you refuse, Virgil. Crofters forbid it doesn’t do Roman any harm to be told no every now and then.” 

Roman scoffed at that. Oh, yes it did. He much preferred getting what he wanted thank you very much and being spurned by his favorite artist for a commission he’d been dreaming of for months may just kill him then and there. 

Still. Logan did have a point. As Virgil’s potential new boss, he did have to set clear boundaries and this definitely had blurred the lines a bit. “Oh yes, your job isn’t ever in question with this, Stormcloud.” Roman said, offering him a smile as he spread his hands peacefully. “Specs hired you and from what I’ve seen so far,” 

He would need to take a very in depth look at the artwork within that portfolio when he got a chance. He needed to see what else Virgil had designed. But that would have to come later. “I second it, but.” His eyes went wide and pleading as he clasped his hands together. “I will be very very very heartbroken and will be giving you super sad puppy dog eyes like this every time you see me for the next--”

“Three hours?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses as he pulled his brother back another step to give Virgil space to breathe.

Roman made a face. Way to ruin the moment. “I was gonna say a week, but probably.” It would hurt, but he could handle the rejection...maybe. Probably. He didn’t know for sure. People didn’t usually say no to him when they knew who he was.

Virgil swallowed, licking his lips. “You...really would…pay me? The Prince? Would...pay me?” 

“Of course! I said--” Roman turned to Logan. “Did I not say that, Lo? Any price. I said that!” He wasn’t a heathen expecting Stormcloud to do such an intense art piece like that for free. No. Roman knew the value of art and Virgil’s artwork would be worth every single penny! 

“You did indeed.” Logan nodded.

“Great!” Good to know they’d been clear on that. “Here.” Roman took Virgil by the arm, pulling him to a seat at his desk. “Specs will draw up your contract for the position. Wages, hours, expected responsibilities, rules and policies, so on and so forth. I trust he was quite thorough in whatever interview he gave you right before you found me right? Right. But you and I.” He smiled conspiracally, pulling up a chair. “Need to talk shop. Come on. Commission. How much?” 

Logan rolled his eyes as he slid into another chair in front of Roman’s computer, his fingers already flying over the keyboard to pull up the necessary forms to print out. “Of course, leave the boring paperwork to me.” 

“It’s what you’re good at Specs.” Roman waved vaguely in his direction, his full attention on his favorite Stormcloud. “Come on Virge, can I call you Virge? Name your price.” 

“I--I---Okay...uhmmm. Well…” Virgil rubbed the back of his head before dropping his hand to where Roman had touched him. “Were you actually wanting one large painting of everyone together or individual pieces that form a scene if placed side by side? 

Individual….Pieces?! Roman leaned forward, fighting to not grin like a madman. “I was thinking the former, but the latter intrigues me. What would be the difference?” 

“Well…” The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitched as he rested a hand on his portfolio. “You said name my price. Does it have to be just...monetary?” 

Oooooohhh. Roman smirked to his twin who shared the same smile back. More and more he was seeing why Logan had gone over his head in this. Their new hire was going to fit in rather well here if he was already thinking like that. He hardly doubted that Lo had had time to fill Virge in on their whole betting system here which meant he probably was thinking to set himself up nicely here at StoryTime! before his first day. 

“No, no it does not.” Roman sat back lacing his fingers together. “What were you thinking instead? A higher wage? A better position?” 

The soft typing from behind him stopped and he could only assume that Logan was waiting for Virgil’s answer as well. 

It was one thing to claim to not want to blackmail the twins. It was another entirely to not try and make a grab for power when you had the chance.

Virgil gave a soft growl, shaking his head. “I told you, Princey. I’m not here because I have blackmail on you or want to take a bribe.” He spat the word, his eyes alight with an inner fire, Roman hadn’t seen in a long long time. “Personal commissions are and will always be considered separate from my job here. I won’t argue for things that I haven’t yet proven that I deserve to get.” 

Roman relaxed a little at that. “Alright…” He said slowly, listening as Logan began typing again. “But if your asking price doesn’t include money, power, or position.” He raised an eyebrow. “What then are you wanting me to pay in?” 

Virgil visibly swallowed. “Well, I would charge per character piece of course.” 

Of course. If they had been talking money then Roman could see how this whole thing could get extremely pricey for him with each character being on an individual piece. 

But Virgil didn’t want money.

“And for Jack.” Virge placed a trembling hand on his portfolio. “My price--” He licked his lips, but didn’t break eye contact as Roman leaned forward. “My price would be that I can wear my hoodie to work.” 

A...hoodie? Roman again shared a look with Logan. The price of having the magnificent Sallyized Jack Skellington gracing his office walls all hinged on the ability for the kid to wear a hoodie?! WHY?!

Logan raised an eyebrow, before shrugging a shoulder showing that he had no clue either why a hoodie would be worth one divinely inspired Jack Skellington, before he returned his attention to the laptop, a slight wrinkle between his eyes forming as he frowned. “You are aware that our dress code is--” 

“Business casual, yes.” Virgil said, pulling at the collar of his shirt, his fingers trailing down his tie. “And I can,” the corner of his mouth twitched in distaste. “follow that to a T, if this particular option doesn’t work for you, I promise. You just said--”

“Name any price.” It was unconventional but it worked and maybe, though he highly doubted it, the kid would look better in the hoodie rather than the ill-fitting suit he currently wore. 

Roman nodded, pulling out a pen and paper, quickly scrawling down the names of a dozen characters from the movie that he for sure wanted Sallyized. 

Best to write it down now than spend the next whoever knew how long trying to remember just which price belonged with which piece. 

“For Jack.” He said, fighting the giddy feeling rising in his chest as he circled the name and wrote ‘wear hoodie at StoryTime!’ next to it. “I’ll allow the wearing of the hoodie here for low key, everyday work things. BUT.” He stressed the word as he looked up. “Any meetings, presentations, or red carpet events you’ll need to nix it. Deal?” 

Virgil let out a breath, relaxing as he leaned forward giving Roman a large genuine smile. “Deal.” 

Logan’s Pov -The Interview: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5 Virgil’s POV for Chapter 3 of The Interview

[thepaperpanda]

Naughty Sister || Alfie Solomons x Shelby!reader

Summary: You're a younger sister to Shelbys and you happen to be in love with Alfie. How it's going to end when your brothers catch you during intimate moments with Solomons?

Warnings: slight smut

Words: 2262

Request by: @shelby-maybe

Authors: Cass & Rouge

This was another family meeting, Tommy knew you hated them but there was no way out. You were part of the family so you had to be there.

"... I hope everything will go just as I planned, John. If not, Arthur will do something about it," Tommy muttered, looking at his brother, then his eyes traveled to Polly and you.

You were sitting right next to your aunt, looking curiously at the empty wall on your left. It was obvious that your mind was far beyond the walls of Shelby's house.

"I just hope Y/N here remember what I told her!," Tommy said loudly, hitting the table with his hand to get your attention.

"I guess Y/N took her mind on the vacations, Tommy," John said with a soft laugh, Arthur joined him soon.

"I can see that," Tommy said with a frown. "Mind to tell me what's so fucking interesting in this empty wall, sister?"

You blinked few times trying to bring your thoughts back. "Sorry, brother, I got a little distracted. I don't feel too well today as well," you rubbed bridge of your nose avoiding his glance. "Would you let me go back to the bedroom, I think that a little nap would help me get on tracks again," you asked politely.

Polly raised her hand up. "No, Y/N, it's not a time for napping. Focus on what your brother's saying, it's important," woman snorted and poked your knee.

"Listen to your aunt, girl. This isn't another tea party with your friends," Tommy said pointing at you.

"Exactly, those are bloody important things and you are away or suddenly don't feel well. It ain't the first time, and don't worry it'll over soon, you will be fine," Arthur added and Tommy nodded.

"Maybe she's gonna be on her period, eh," John joked openly and you showed him your middle finger. "Fuck you," you snorted at him and crossed legs nicely. "Go on then. Let's end this as soon as possible."

"Or maybe she is pregnant!," Arthur said and laughed.

"Naaah! Our little sister is too good for boys," John giggled, teasing you.

Tommy smiled softly and shook his head. "Okay, let's finish it so our princess can get her beauty sleep," he said before continuing the meeting. There wasn't much to talk about, you had to stay low when everyone else had their stuff to do.

After the meeting, Arthur looked at you as you were leaving the house. "I thought you said you don't feel well and now you are running off?," He asked in disbelief.

You looked at him above your shoulder and smiled. "It passed, I feel better now" you shrugged and looked at your reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. You put lipstick on and checked if you looked nice. "Dont wait at me, I'll be long."

Arthur blinked and shrugged, looking at his younger brother.

"She left as soon as the meeting ended, suddenly she feels well? I don't like it," Tommy muttered, lighting his cigarette up. "If such a situation will ever happen again, I am afraid we will have to follow her."

"I can gladly follow Y/N. I bet our little sister is hiding something," John added slipping head to the room and looking at Tommy. "I can spy on her."

"For now we will observe her. Let's just hope our little sister didn't put herself in any trouble. I will inform boys, maybe they will notice something," Tommy said, looking at his brothers.

John pecked his lips nodding eagerly. "Good idea, Thomas."

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

You were bending over the wooden desk, playing with lock of your hair.

"I couldn't stop thinking of you today, even my brothers noticed something ain't right."

"Don't you think it's kinda risky to come here after something like this?," Alfie asked, looking at you. "You brothers are fuckin' crazy, they are going to rip my balls off as soon as they see you with me," he muttered. "This was fuckin' stupid, pet, but I am glad you are here."

You sat on the desk and looked at him. "Alfie Solomons are afraid of my brothers, something new," you teased him a little. "Come here," you reached hand out to him.

"My balls are fuckin' important to me, love. So don't be surprised I am kinda worried about fuckin' Shelbys," Solomons said and grabbed your hand, pulling you on his laps. "I am the one that gives orders here."

"Yeah, you are until I'm sucking your cock," you reminded him kissing his jaw. "And ya know, I like playing with fire," you reached to his belt and unbuckled it. "And well, your balls are also important to me."

"Oh, are they now, pet? Well, we will see how talkative you will be with my cock shoved down your fuckin' throat, little Shelby," Alfie said with a smile on his lips, pushing you down on your knees.

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

The whole situation with you kept repeating few times, you were excusing yourself or boldly sneaking out of the house on a daily bases. It was annoying everyone but especially Tommy, he never could reach you when you were needed because you were gone.

Finally, he had enough of your ridiculous behavior. "We are going to follow her, I am so fuckin' done with her sneaking out. Every fuckin' day," Tommy muttered, looking at Arthur.

Older Shelby nodded slowly. "I think it would be the best thing to do, if we truly want to find out where our little sister is sneaking out," he said.

Tommy nodded grabbing his coat. "Oi! John, you commin'?," He asked, putting on the coat.

Younger brother yawned. "Me? Of course I go! I wouldn't want to miss the drama!"

"Let's hope it won't be a fuckin' drama," Arthur said and followed his brothers.

Men followed you carefully, making sure to not alert you of their presence what so ever.

"Oh, you are fuckin' kiddin' me?," Tommy growled, seeing you entering Solomons' place.

You looked around before stepping into bakery. "Alfie!," You called happily. "Where are you, darling?"

As soon as you vanished into the building, John crossed arms over his chest. "Well, well, that's something unexpected, at least to me, guys," younger Shelby said openly rubbing back of his head. "What are we going to do now, eh?"

"Well, what do you think, eh?," Tommy said frowning. "We are goin' inside."

Arthur nodded. "I will rip this jew's head off if he ever touched her."

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

"The same place as always, lady," one of the workers poked you, pretty annoyed. Everyone was used to you being here every day. "In his office."

You thanked politely and sent man a grin. Grabbing hems of your dress in hands you ran towards Solomons' office and stepped in without knocking. "Good day, mate," you whispered.

Alfie looked from some papers he had on his desk and smiled at you. "Good day to you as well, pet. Is everything okay, you got here earlier than usual?," He said, getting comfortable in his chair. "Missed me?"

You walked to hip with a certain swing in your hips only to take a seat on his lap. "Well," you looked at the ceiling, pretending to be thinking. "Yes. I missed my man so fucking much that I skipped my violin classes to meet him, innit romantic, my love?"

Alfie laughed nodding. "Oh, so fuckin' bad, girl. What happened to this little innocent girl I once met?," He joked, looking at you.

You stroked his cheek with your thumb. "You spoiled me, Alfie," you said as your impatient hands started to unbuckle his leather belt.

"Well, then I think I will have to teach you a fuckin' lesson, you brat," Alfie said watching your hands. "Eager as always, go on, little one."

You got off his lap only to kneel between his legs.

Meantime John and his brothers came to the bakery.

"Where the fuck is she!?," Arthur growled, grabbing one of the working men.

"The office…," Man answered quickly and Tommy nodded. "Let's go, pay Alfie a visit. Shall we, boys?"

"With a fuckin' pleasure, Tom," the oldest Shelby said and went to the office as first, with Tommy and John right behind him.

John was already red on his face. "I sense the drama, Thomas!," He whispered shivering.

Meantime you shoved Alfie's cock deep down your throat humming around the shaft.

Alfie only hummed happily as his hand held your hair tightly, it took him a bit to realize that your brothers actually stood in the same room. "Oh fuckin' shit... The hell you fuckin' idiots do here!?"

"YOU ARE FUCKIN' KIDDING ME!," Tommy yelled while Arthur simply turned on his hill and left the room, probably to not murder you or Alfie on the spot.

You gagged a little and quickly slipped Alfie's out of your mouth. "Tommy.... John...," You whispered with eyes wide opened.

"Yes! Fuckin' us! What the fuck you are doin', sucking off this motherfucker?!," Tommy growled.

"Hey, calm the fuck down, mate," Alfie said.

"No, you fucking shut up, mate, before I decide to decorate walls of your fuckin' office with your own brain. You," Tommy pointed at you. "Get the fuck out of here. Go to Arthur."

You wiped your lips from Alfie's precum and slowly got up on your feet, shaking head like you'd have been saying "no". "I won't go anywhere. I stay here."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "John, please."

John simply nodded and walked to you. He was taller and stronger than you so he easily picked you up, John threw you over his shoulder and walked out with you.

"Now you…," Was all you could hear Tommy saying.

John walked out of the bakery and joined Arthur. "Are you out of your fuckin' mind kid, eh? What the fuck was that?!," Arthur asked.

You struggled with your older brother. "Put me down, coward! Put me fucking down and I'll rip your heart off!," You were screaming.

People who were passing by glared at the sudden situation and chaos.

"I want go back to my man! Put me down, John! I love Alfie! You won't be deciding by me!"

John put you down. "Arthur asked you a question, girl and yes we will. You are Shelby, you won't be meeting someone like this."

"He is right, Tommy will sooner kill him than let you met with him again," Arthur muttered, looking around. "What are you all looking at! Not your fuckin' business," he yelled at people.

"Arthur, brother," you grasped his elbow and looked up at him. "I bet once you were in love, just like me now. Please, don't punish me for listening to my heart. I fell for him and nothing will change it. Listen to me, and if you love me, like your little sister, let me live my life the hell I want."

Arthur looked at you. "Tommy will decide what to do with you, sister," he told you bluntly.

John only laughed quietly. "You fucked up."

After a few minutes, Tommy joined you all. "Fine, ready to go?," He asked simply.

"I ain't going anywhere. I want to go back to Alfie," you stated firmly. "What the hell have you done, brother?"

"Arthur," Tommy muttered.

"Sorry, sis," the oldest Shelby said and picked you up the same way that John did few minutes before.

While you walked, Tommy looked at you. "For now you will sit home, we'll think what to do with your great Jewish love," he muttered. "I guess I will have to talk with aunt about this," he said pulling out the cigarette.

"With Polly? There's nothing to be talked about with her, Thomas!," You growled. "I want to go back to my love."

All three men ignored your whining until you all got home.

Tommy ordered to close you in your room and make sure you won't run away. In the meantime, he went to talk with Polly about the whole situation. Tommy didn't like it even a little but he also couldn't completely close you off.

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

After an hour, Tommy walked into your room.

You were sitting on the floor under the window, knees pulled beneath the chin. Quiet sobs were escaping your mouth.

"You can stop that now, Y/N," Tommy said walking up to you. "I talked with aunt Polly," he informed you.

"And? What? You'll lock me here like a princess in a tower and Arthur is going to play a dragon in this stupid spectacle?!"

"I think you are a bit too old for such metaphors," he chuckled darkly and ruffled your hair. "Better fix this ruined make up and run to your jewish knight."

You blinked. You felt how your blood turned cold within second. "What did you say, Tommy?," You asked frowning.

"Go run to your love," Tommy said with a shrug. "As I said, I talked with Polly. We came to the conclusion that you can be in love and we can benefit."

You grinned and quickly got up from the floor, you rushed to the wardrobe to look for a fresh dress. "I’d say it's awful from your side but I won't complain as long as I can be meeting him. And Tommy. I really love him. He's a good man to me."

"I ain't sure if Arthur would say that. I won't say that eather," Tommy said walking past you.

You shook your head and started getting ready.

It was the very first moment when you felt the sparkle of hope for better tomorrow.

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[mikkomacko]

Dear Daisy 2

Harry is not a bad housemate. He keeps the house pretty clean, at least the part of it he actually lives in, and the hallway that Daisy's room is in, is for her. He let her rearrange the bathroom to her liking, even though she was going to do either way, and she cleaned out the office next door, with the exception of the desk drawers. They were locked, and when she mentioned it to Harry he simply grumbled "and they're staying locked."

He doesn't go to work very much, even though Daisy knows he's got a job in the office of the company, but even when he's home he sticks to himself. Of course they eat together, and they go to town together because he wanted to make sure there was food in the house that she likes, and sometimes they sit in the living room together, Harry looking over paperwork while she reads a book. She never thought that Harry would be quiet, considering he use to take every opportunity he saw to tease her, but she's not going to complain. She prefers silent, brooding Harry to rude, condescending Harry.

The back porch creaks under his footsteps, letting Daisy know he's come outside. She doesn't look at him, continuing to move her crocheting needle through her yarn. The sun's getting warmer and the grassy dewier, and Daisy's glad she decided to bring a blanket out to sit on. She hates the way wet grass feels on her legs.

She hears Harry come off the porch, and his feet tap on the flagstone pathway, and finally the grass squish under his feet. "For fuck-" he mutters through a huff, not finishing his sentence before he's literally leaping on the blanket next to Daisy. She tries not to snicker as she moves over so there's room for him on the blanket.

"Why's the grass bloody wet?" Harry grumbles, falling on his behind and stretching his legs out in front of him. Daisy looks up, giggling when she realizes he's barefoot.

"I watered it yesterday because it was getting crunchy." She says, trying not to sound to happy that Harry got mud on the bottom of his feet. She's sure he can tell.

"When did ya do that?" Harry asks, leaning back on his elbows.

Daisy shrugs. "Don't know, you were upstairs I think or something."

"Every time I ask you a question, you say ya. don't know."

"I knew the grass was wet." She says teasingly, smirking when Harry let's out his famous annoyed huff. He doesn't respond for a bit, just lays by her and watches her fingers manuever the needle. After a moment, he speaks over the twittering birds.

"Where'd ya learn to do that?"

Daisy hums, finishing her stitch before answering. "My grandma, she taught my mom too but my mother's awful at teaching anything."

"Why?"

"Because she's impatient and rude when someone doesn't immediately think like her," Daisy pauses, looking up at Harry, "you two should get along quite well."

She looks at him long enough to see his eyebrows scrunch and hear him scoff, returning to her work with a smirk. "Maybe you should tell her how rude and impatient I am tomorrow when you have lunch with her and my mum. At least someone in that family will like me."

His tone is bitter, a low mutter in her ear, and for a second she feels bad. Until she remembers that he is rude and impatient, and deserves to be teased by her. It's only fair, and she wants to say so but she's too shocked by his plans for her for tomorrow to even mention it.

"What?" Daisy asks, looking up at him again. He's looking ahead at the fence and growing trees that line the backyard, but he's smirking cockily. She wants to wipe that smile right off his face.

"You're going out with the girls tomorrow. Gotta find a dress for our engagement party."

Daisy huffs, face scrunching in confusion. "I have dresses!"

Lazily, he turns towards her, eyelashes light in sun and eyes twinkling. Daisy thinks he looks cute, innocent. Until he opens his mouth of course.

"Not dresses that the wife of Styles man would wear." He gives her a fake smile, lips curling cruelly.

Daisy's cheeks heat up, both in embarrassment and anger, and she clenches her jaw to keep from saying something rude back. She's goes back to her crocheting, a new found energy going into it because she's so embarrassed she thinks she could jam her needle into Harry's ear.

He must be able to tell that he's pissed her off, because he sighs lowly and lays back on the blanket, looking up at the clouds while she crochets. They stay silent, and Daisy's beginning to think that maybe this is what the rest of her life is going to be like.

~

Harry drums his thin fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the song coming through the radio. Daisy doesn't know what song it is, but she supposes it's pretty good, especially with the way it's beat rumbles in Harry's chest.

"Try and act like you don't hate me too much, yeah?" He requests, voice just loud enough to be heard over the radio. Daisy scoffs, turning to look at the side of his face.

"I know how to act in front of your mother Harry, I'm not stupid."

His jaw ticks, and his eyes flutter in annoyance. "Didn't say you were bloody stupid, was just reminding you."

"Well don't."

They fall back into silence, Daisy looking out the windshield as they drive into town. Harry said he was dropping her off at a restaurant where he's made her and the girls a reservation. She doesn't know what restaurant, and she doesn't really care because she's too worried about having to spend a day with Anne and Gemma. She can't let them know how she really feels about Harry.

His breaths are harsh puffs of air, undoubtedly muttering curses under his breath or in his head. Daisy ignores him, enjoying the ride into to town. They pull up in front of a restaurant called Ellio's, Harry leaving the car running as he climbs out. He opens her door for her, holding out a hand to help her out.

Daisy steps up onto the sidewalk, brushing out her skirt with the palm of her hand. "They're already be inside." Harry tells her nodding towards the building. She looks over her shoulder, seeing Kitty and Meredith sat by the window. Kitty waves a tiny hand at them, beaming when Harry wiggles his fingers back at her.

"I guess I'll see you later then." Daisy says, turning back to Harry. He nods, running his fingers through his hair and he squints at her. Daisy waits for him to say more, but instead he just sighs and shakes his head, ducking down to wrap his arms around her waist. It's a brief and awkward hug, Daisy barely having a chance to rest her hands on his shoulders before he's pulling away and walking around the car.

"Don't eat too much dear, still need to fit into your dress." He says, winking at her over the top of the car. She gapes, heart pounding as he climbs in and drives away. Her hearts still shuddering when she gets inside and sits with the others, her mind replaying the way he'd said "dear" over and over until she's sure she looks like a deer in headlights.

~

"How are you holding up with Harry, love?"

Daisy's skin feels itchy and uncomfortable as she realizes Anne's speaking to her. When Harry told her she was coming to lunch with everyone, she somehow didn't realize that she'd definitely have to speak about Harry to his mother and sister, and she doesn't really want them to know that she hates Harry. What mother wants to hear about their child being a bad person?

"Fine!" Daisy immediately squeaks, blushing at the way her voice cracks nervously. She clears her throat. "He's.... I mean, I'm-it's fine."

Anne chuckles kindly, dabbing her napkin at her mouth. "Oh it's okay honey! We know Harry's a tough man to be around."

The girls all giggle at Anne's admittance, and Daisy feels herself relax into her chair more. At least she doesn't have to totally lie today.

"It's a little awkward. I mean, we don't really know each other and he doesn't talk much, but it's fine." Daisy says, wondering how Harry came from a woman as kind as Anne.

"Oh, now he's quiet!" Gemma complains, "I lived with him for years and he was a menace!"

A chorus of laughs ring out, even Kitty joining in even though she's always enjoyed Harry. Daisy can't help but wonder what he's doing today, if he went to work or stayed home. She sort of wishes he were here for her to pick on.

"He's still a menace." Daisy murmurs, eyes widening at how fondly the sentence comes out. She looks around, hoping no one's noticed, but by the way Gemma smirks at her, she's afraid she's realized too.

~

Daisy doesn't really know what she was expecting for an engagement party she didn't plan. Maybe a nice restaurant, or a catered dinner held in the garden at Thomas' house. She definitely wasn't expecting to be driven to the docks, where a large boat was being loaded with people. People not wearing life preservers.

"W-we're going on a boat?" Daisy stutters, chest starting to feel hot as her heart pounds. Harry closes her car door, right hand taking hers.

"Yeah, m'uncle set it up."

They cross the parking lot, her knees wobbling the closer they get to the water. "Did-did you pick the boat?"

"Didn't pick anything," Harry says, sounding a little annoyed with her. "I was just told when to show up."

Daisy nods, biting her bottom lip. This couldn't have been on purpose, she tells herself as the back of her eyes begin to sting. Thomas didn't know she's terrified of water or he would have planned something else. They're reaching the steps up to the dock when Harry pulls her into the sand, hiding them by the wood pillars.

"What's wrong?"

Daisy looks up at him, shoulders folding in when she sees the heat in his eyes. Is he mad at her? It's not her fault that she feels this way, in fact, it's his fault.

"I-I can't, um I can't get on the boat."

Harry sighs, his eyes fluttering shut and nose scrunching. She knows he's upset, she's seen that look on his many times before. It's never been accomplished by that glint in his eyes, though, and she's not sure what to make of it.

"It's just that, I'm not 100% comfortable-not even like 10% comfortable-being on a boat."

Her cheeks burn in embarrassment as Harry eyes flicker between hers, a furrow between his eyebrows. "You're afraid of boats?"

"No, I'm afraid of the uh water underneath the boat." Her confession is nothing more than a sheepish murmur, so quiet she hopes Harry even heard her over the waves crashing. "I don't know how to swim....still."

She chuckles awkwardly at her weak attempt at a joke, waiting for Harry to start complaining about having to deal with a baby cry for a fiance. She waits for his nostrils to flare and his lips to curl up mockingly. She gets the exact opposite.

Harry's features all soften. His shoulders droop and the creases of his face fade into soft skin. She thinks she might even see some sympathy in his eyes, or at least regret and it makes tears well in her eyes.

"It's gonna be okay." Harry says softly, the usual growl in his voice gone. "We'll be fine, I've been on this boat a million times."

Daisy doesn't get a chance to question or argue with him because he wraps a strong arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his shoulder. It's like all the air is sucked out of her body, and her stomach flutters as she feels how warm his body his and how good his cologne smells. It's not fair, it's not fair that he's this perfect man on the outside, dragging her in with his broad biceps and handsome smile, but constantly berating her with harsh words and intimidating gaze.

"I'll stay by you the whole time, promise."

The softness of his words, the way his voice is just a breath against her ear but the most sincere she's ever heard him, makes her lean into him. He strokes a thumb over her exposed arm, waiting for her to speak.

After a moment she realizes where she is and who's holding her, and her heart jumps into her throat. She quickly pulls away, wiping under her eyes to keep from having to look at him. "That's not very comforting." She jokes pathetically, straightening out her dress. A tiny smirk tugs at Harry's lips, one that looks too forced to make her feel proud of her teasing, takes over his face. He doesn't say anything, but he does reach out for her hand, and his hold stays strong as they step into the boat.

~

The laterns on the deck are lit, and the plates and food cleared away. Daisy, practically glued to Harry's side, is starting to feel droopy and tired as she listens to Harry chat with someone from work. She thinks his name is Peter, but she's met far too many people tonight to remember. Her cheek falls to rest against his arm, eyes fluttering over the area. A few people have taken over the dance floor, swaying and twirling to the soft music flowing through the air. Daisy spots Sterling and Stella pressed together on the dance floor, and she immediately smiles. She wonders what it'd be like to love like them. To be with someone who genuinely wants you for you, and not because they're being rewarded too.

Summer and Kitty are also on the dance floor, Kitty's little legs wrapped around Summer's thin waist as she giggles and laughs. If this were a normal night Daisy would be with them, spinning and tossing Kitty around without a care in the world. But she has to be Harry's fiance tonight, a fiance deserving of a rich business man like Harry.

Daisy was so busy watching her friends she didn't realize that Harry's friends have excused themselves or that Harry is reaching for her other hand. She lets him take it, hoping that maybe they look as good together as Stella and Sterling.

"Wanna dance with me?"

She looks up at him, chest seizing when she sees the laterns glowing in his eyes. "Okay," she agrees, grin growing when he leads her towards the others. He stops at an empty table for a moment, peeling off his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his button up. Her cheeks go hot as she watches him. She can't believe how good he looks in his just button ups and suspenders, hair a little mussed up from running his fingers through it.

Harry nods towards the middle of the floor, settling a warm hand on her waist and taking her other hand in his. She reaches up to grip his shoulder, inching closer to him as he begins to sway. She lets herself relax, despite the itching reminder that she's still floating on the ocean, and let's Harry guide her. Turns out he's fairly good at dancing, and that makes Daisy even more annoyed.

"Not too bad, huh?" Harry whispers, looking over the people around them. "Being with me, I mean. I had a good time tonight."

Daisy doesn't know what makes her say it because she's never been honest it vulnerable with Harry. But she still lays her head on his chest, murmuring, "I had a good time too."

Her eyes flutter shut, heart beat steadying and she thinks about how Harry stuck to his promise. He had kept his hand in hers or an arm around her shoulders all night. Every time they hit a bit of bumpy water he squeezed her closer and murmured in her ear that everything was fine. The more time she spends with him, she realizes, the more okay she feels about being with Harry. And maybe that's not a terrible thing.

[bleak-midwinter-snow]

Bad Fortune

Notes: I feel like the more I write the more obvious it is that I have no idea what I am doing but as they say, when the quarantine hits... So here we go again, with an OC that actually has a name this time! Takes place in a merge of season 1 and 2 I believe, it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. Communication is the key to a soft ending, kids. This is also so far my longest thing (2.7K words) so, enjoy!

And again, English is not my first language so if something sounds off, I’m sorry.

—–

“Does your mother know where you are or am I going to be a gypsy witch again?”

A young woman stepped into the betting shop, walking past still empty desks on an early Monday morning. Prue Morris wasn’t a rare view in the Shelby parlour, though today her visit had a different reason than usual.

“Hello, Polly.”

“If you are looking for boys they are at the Garrison.”

“At this hour already?”

“Business at this hour only. Or so I was told,” Polly closed a book she was writing into and pulled out a cigarette. The young woman sat down at one of the empty chairs nearby.

“I’m sorry for my mother’s behaviour yesterday. She is getting worse every day.”

Polly let out a puff of smoke she looked through at her visitor. “She hasn’t come to terms you are not an obedient child anymore. Not that you never got into trouble anyway.”

Prue chuckled at the memory of times when she stuck around the Shelbys after school. Having siblings was a foreign concept to her and they were always up to some mischief she got tangled in whenever she was close. The fun never lasted long, as Prue’s mother was swift to find her and remove from any situation that included the gypsy family. But it was worth it.

“Well, she cannot drag me home by hand anymore. Even though she desperately wishes to,” she leaned back on the chair and stared at the ceiling.

Since she started working and living her own life, Prue hoped her mother’s controlling hold on her will be gone, or at least loosen a bit compared to times she was a child. Unfortunately, she was wrong and the grip felt it was getting desperately stronger now she wasn’t around her mother at all times.

I named you Prudence in hopes it will set you for life with good judgement but you are so careless, the words echoed in her head. She knew her mother was worried but at this point it felt like no matter what Prue did, her mother was never satisfied. It was about time she did what she wanted to do, as waiting for praise or validation for her decisions, no matter how significant, or insignificant for that matter, was a long-lost fight.

“And she doesn’t even know the worst yet.”

“What, that the bad fortune from more than 25 years ago may be true?” Shelbys always had a special place in her mother’s book.

“Maybe. But I’m not the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

Polly took a long drag from her cigarette and narrowed her eyes with a small smile, “You are in love.”

Prue blinked twice fast and laughed. “Now isn’t that a bold statement, Polly?”

“Oh please, Polly is never wrong about love.”

“We’re just frien-“

“Don’t pull that on me either, you think no one noticed you two disappearing from the Garrison for an hour but I did.”

Prue gave out a small huff. She had nothing to say to that. The truth was, yes, she found herself falling for Thomas Shelby. Despite seeing him for a while, she kept her feelings to herself because she knew her confession would probably just complicate everything and despite the sweet and intimate moments they shared, she wasn’t sure he felt the same and if he even wanted to go that way with her. Though she would lie to herself if she said that sometimes, she didn’t wish he let her closer.

“It’s not like it would work, Polly. There are just too many things that go against it.”

“Have you told him?”

“Of course not.”

“Go tell him.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“No, that’s exactly how it works! Adults communicate. Unless you are a child, Prue, like your mother says you are.”

That small change in young woman’s expression was everything Polly wanted. She smiled.

“Off to the Garrison you go! Quick, before your shift starts!”

Prue sighed and hated how Polly knew exactly what strings to pull. And hated herself how easily she got swayed by her words. Maybe her mother was right after all.

“If he breaks my heart it will be your shoulder I will be crying on, you know!” she said mockingly on her way out of the shop. Polly just opened one of the books again and with a smile, she lit up another cigarette.

***

The Garrison pub was empty. Chairs still on tables and the bar polished clean with not a soul around, except from three Shelby brothers leaving the private room just as she walked in.

“Hey, if it isn’t Prudence Morris!” Arthur teased her by using her full name as her mother often did when she was calling for her. She grinned at the welcome.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

“Would lady like a drink?” the oldest Shelby was already behind the bar, grabbing four glasses.

“Isn’t it a little early for that, Arthur?”

“It’s never early in my pub,” he replied with a grin as he poured the whiskey.

“I can see that. But no, thank you, keep it at three,” she smiled and stopped him before he could reach the fourth glass. Then she finally turned to Thomas, who was lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy, can we talk? In private?”

The backroom of the Garrison that currently served as a storage room provided more privacy than the small private room by the bar. As soon as the door closed behind them, Tommy spoke.

“I wanted to talk to you too, actually.”

“Is it about my mother? Don’t tell me she has been here.”

“No, she hasn’t. But she’s been over at the betting shop.”

“I know, I’ve been there already, I apologized to Polly. She took it way too far.”

“She’s worried you stick around the wrong crowd. And no one can blame her,” Tommy gave her a concerned look. “It’s dangerous around us, you know. You know what we do.”

“So, are you taking my mother’s side, then?”

He took a long drag from his cigarette.

“I don’t want you in unnecessary danger.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Prue crossed her arms on her chest defensively. The last thing she needed was Tommy undermining her the same way her mother did.

“Does your mother know who you are meeting up with in secret and what does it mean for your safety?”

“Do you know I carry a gun?”

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point. I can take care of myself, Tom.”

Silence. Everyone had their concerns. Tommy had a point and Prue knew it. She wasn’t sticking around Shelby kids anymore, being around Blinders put her at risk but the fact he tried to play his own concerns as lack of her mother’s approval of what Prue decides to do annoyed her. But she is not backing out now, Polly was right. They have to talk.

“Has Polly told you why my mother keeps going crazy about me sticking around?”

“Because she is worried about her daughter.”

“No, the actual reason.”

Tommy shook his head lightly and almost didn’t blink. His eyes were focused on her.

“Shortly before I was born, my mother got into an argument on the street. It was over something stupid but the woman she argued with spat at her feet and told her to be careful because one day a gypsy will steal her daughter,” she slowly walked towards him as she spoke, “Mother thinks it’s Polly. The gypsy from the bad fortune.”

“But it’s not just Polly, is it now.”

“No, it’s not. Because Thomas Shelby,” she took his face into her hands, “you are the one who stole my heart.”

He kept looking at her with the same expression, eyes moving from one side to other, as if he couldn’t decide where to look.

“I love you, Tommy. And that’s a fact.”

Tommy left out a small sigh, almost sorrowful as he slowly closed his eyes.

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

The cold demeanour was a part of Thomas Shelby since he returned from France and she knew this. No one has been the same since and she knew what she was getting herself into when she realized she was falling for him. But she couldn’t help but feel a little chilled by this behaviour, like she has been left outside on a cold day.

“Yes, I wanted to make things clear on my side.”

“What would your mother think if -“

“Can you stop bringing her up?” She quickly removed her hands from him a took a step back. “I am my own person with my own choices, Tom. If you want to reject me, do it because you want to and don’t look for excuses.”

He let out a puff of smoke.

“Just say how you feel about us, Tommy. I can take it.”

Tommy finished his cigarette and stepped closer to her. “Prue, I -“

John suddenly opened the door.

“I’m sorry to bust in but there are some men that want to speak to you, Tommy.”

“What men, John?”

“Haven’t seen them before. They say they came here all the way from London.”

“I’ll be right there.” Then he turned back to Prue.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back and we will talk, eh?” He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and before she could react, Tommy was out the door. She stood there for a second and then with a deep sigh, she was out the back entrance, on her way to work.

***

Working kept her mind occupied and clear of thoughts of her mother or Thomas Shelby, which she was thankful for. Prue knew the conversation will continue eventually but she wasn’t sure it would be today. In a way she felt bad for just leaving the Garrison with the conversation unresolved but then again, they both had places to be. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Maybe if she stopped by the pub later tonight, they could continue talking and solve this as adults they are. Or not. Why had she given into Polly’s enabling again?

The shift has ended and Prue was putting on her coat, ready to leave when she heard her co-workers talk in an annoyed, almost distressed voice.

“What is that Shelby doing here?”

“I have no idea, it’s ridiculous! Nowhere in this city is safe from Peaky Blinders anymore.”

Shelby? Here? Did he…?

She quickly picked up her purse and made her way out of the building. And sure enough, in the alley by the entrance stood Thomas Shelby, coat buttoned up in a chilly evening, cap hiding a portion of his face but it was still unmistakably him, smoking a cigarette, as per usual. Prue sighed and walked over to him.

“Good evening,” he greeted her.

“Good evening,” she greeted back before asking the obvious. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for you.”

“Because of the conversation earlier today? It could have waited, you know.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he finished his cigarette and offered her an arm. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

Prue didn’t have much choice here but it wasn’t like she was going to reject the offer anyway. She accepted his arm and as they were leaving, she could feel the shocked looks on her back. Coming to work tomorrow will certainly be interesting.

There’s been silence between them for a while, as if none of them wanted to bring up the topic they were discussing in the morning. And Prue most definitely wasn’t going to push him.

“I’ve talked to Polly,” he said finally. She waited if he’ll continue but nothing was happening. Not wanting to play any of his games today, she took charge.

“And what did you find out?”

“Do you know what does it mean, to be seen publicly with a Shelby?”

Prue furrowed her brow. Steering away from the topic again. “If you talk about the ladies at the workplace who gave us looks, I can take that. I can take people looking at me wrong, it’s their business, not mine.”

“No, it’s my business to make sure no one looks at you wrong. And that you are safe from whoever may be looking at you right now.”

“What was the point of showing up at the door of my workplace then? Are you trying to teach me a lesson?” Prue was getting annoyed. If he was strolling the streets with her arm in arm only to show her how dangerous it is, she had no need for that today.

“No.”

“What is it, then?” She stopped in her tracks and pulled him aside where they weren’t in plain sight of the entire street. It got dark already and the cap’s peak was shading Tommy’s eyes. She wanted to look him in the face unobscured when they talked.

“Can you take that thing off?” He didn’t protest and took off his cap, tucking it in his coat pocket. His eyes looked almost sad. Prue took his face into her hands, the same way she did in the morning.

“Just talk to me, Tom. I can’t read minds. I can’t read in between the lines when there are no lines to begin with. Just tell me what is it. And for the love of God, don’t bring up my safety or my mother again. Tell me what is it you want.”

He sighed and brought his own hands on top of hers. They were cold from the late autumn air.

“You said you were in love. Polly said the same and she is never wrong.”

A pause. He wasn’t hesitant about what he was about to say. He was only looking for the right words.

“Is this really what you want, Prue? Us?”

She looked into his eyes, gentle but serious. “Only if you want the same, Tommy.”

The silence filled the space between them. He blinked slowly and nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Prue gave him a soft smile and caressed his cheeks. “I love you. No ladies at work, strangers on the street or my mother’s bad fortunes can do anything about it. Alright?”

Tommy didn’t say a word. Instead, he cradled her face in the same manner she held his and brought them together for a kiss. Prue felt the warmth spreading from the lips to her entire body – it felt exactly like the unspoken words that never got to leave his tongue. The kiss lasted forever and she didn’t want it to end. She brought her hands to the back of his head, fingers running through his hair, leaning into the touch of cold palms on her cheeks. When they finally parted, they were both breathless, lost in each other’s eyes at the corner of the evening street.

“Let’s go,” said Tommy, taking her by the elbow again.

“Where to?”

“The Garrison.”

They didn’t get to the Garrison.

***

Tommy’s bedroom was dimly lit by the lights from the late-night street, casting long shadows on the walls. They laid in bed, limbs tangled under the quilt, Tommy’s head resting against Prue’s chest, her arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace.

“I don’t know if I can give you exactly what you’d expect of this, of us…,” he whispered in a raspy voice, eyes closed, almost asleep. “I am a bad fortune after all. A gypsy who stole you away.”

She shuffled as she pulled the blanket higher to cover them both and started playing with his hair. The smell of tobacco and lavender tickled her nose.

“I don’t care about fortunes, as long as I have you. And you have me.”

“Hm…,” his hands found her back, to pull closer, to lean into that pleasant heat shared between two naked lovers. “Will you stay?”

A moment of silence.

“They won’t come when you are here.”

Prue knew what he meant by those words and what demons haunted him at night when he was alone and vulnerable. But she was here now and he was peacefully in her arms. She will hold him through anything that life decides to throw their way.

She planted a kiss on top of his head.

“I’ll stay.”

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m happy oh god i’m happy

TW: alcohol abuse, non-graphic sexual content, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self harm (in many forms), drug use, couchsurfing, mentions of delusions and paranoia, otherwise reckless behaviour

Note: this takes place in @illogicallyinclined’s hockey au and is a Prequel this is supposed to represent what Remus’s manic episodes look like everyone is different, but im using a mix of my own experiences with bipolar i and some friends who were willing to talk about theirs, then changing it to fit Remus’s existing Absolutely Feral personality, Jared and Payton are OC’s and teammates of Remus, the three of them are known for wrecking havoc at all times because none of them possess a braincell.

The art studio was empty, filled only by the assorted music of Remus’s sculpting playlist on the bluetooth speaker he brought in, and Remus himself. His hands glide through the wet clay and he basks in the slimy feeling between his fingers. Remus’s hair is held back by a small headband and he is wearing a tank top and jogging pants already covered in various mediums he has used through the day. He does not know where the energy to finish every project for this semester came from but he isn’t about to object.

If you were to look around this studio, there is a high contrast painting of a tentacle creature that is unsettling in an almost unidentifiable way, half of a self-portrait which uses resin teeth as the main element, as well as his current project of a large cup shaped like a decapitated head. In short, while Remus believes these are his best pieces, the chances of the university permitting them to be displayed are very low.

Remus gets frustrated that the music didn’t seem to be filling his inspiration in the way he hoped he changes the song revealing it to be approximately 4am, and no texts received since he sent D a picture if the teeth pile around 10pm.

—

“Can you go wake Remus up and ask if he wants any breakfast, he really shouldn’t sleep in this late, even if it is Saturday” D asks from the stove while Roman grabs his carton of milk from the fridge and doesn’t bother grabbing a cup.

D grimaces at him as he chugs back the milk, once again thankful that they have separate ones (even if that is at fault of Remus deciding to mix apple juice with milk in the carton without alerting anyone else in the household). “He actually headed out like, real early this morning, I spoke to him when I got up for a shower at like six. He said he’d be back today though?” Roman replied ignoring D’s look.

“Well, that’s even weirder. I’ll make extras so he can eat when he gets back, it's already eleven.”

“Sounds good,” Roman noticing D’s almost done slides a few plates next to him and accepts D’s soft ‘thanks’.

Suddenly they hear someone miss the keyhole three times before getting it and entering. Unsurprisingly, it’s Remus inappropriately dressed for a casual outing, surprisingly he seems to be holding several bags full of merchandise. “Helloo roommates! Look what I bought!” Remus shouts, slamming the door with his foot and bringing his bags to the couch.

“Are those... cups?” D asks turning off the stovetop to curiously check out Remus’s merch load.

“Hell yeah they are! I figured since you-” He pokes at D, “Took away all our glass cups after me and Roman went to that last party, I would take it upon myself to replace them. Look!” Remus proudly pulls the ugliest Jar Jar Binks cup out of one of the bags.

Roman visibly recoils as his brother parades the worst cup he’s ever seen around their apartment. D rolls his eyes but collects the cup and hesitantly places it into the dishwasher. “Thank you, Remus, these cups are horrid but they’re functional, which, I guess is good enough. Though, how much did these cost?”

“No idea, probably around sixty bucks total though, maybe. I went to three different thrift stores. Look at this one!” Remus holds up a vaguely terrifying cup that seems like it may have once resembled Spongebob Squarepants to Roman.

“That’s… Great, Remus, thanks” Roman says taking the offered item.

—

The three make it to practice 20 minutes early because Roman likes to prove he’s dedicated and a good captain. Coach Thomas and Joan greet them and Thomas talks to Roman briefly as Joan finishes setting things up. D and Remus do some stretches as others begin to show up, D comments on Remus being shaky and Remus hops around quickly explaining that he just woke up with a lot of energy for some reason.

Coach Thomas reminds Remus to take his time during practices speeding through everything doesn’t work if he keeps messing up before he even makes it halfway through.

—

D is going to kill Remus tomorrow morning. The repetitive sound of the bedframe slamming against their shared wall, and Remus wailing like a cat in heat at 1am is not something he wants to deal with right now. It’s a Tuesday night and D knows Remus has a class at 11am, one that D will not let him skip because he decided getting laid was more important. How does Remus even get a man to willingly enter that nightmare of a room? D rummages through his bedside table for ear plugs and regrets giving Roman the far room so easily.

—

“Jesus- Hello? Do you know what time it is?” The tired voice answers the phone after the third time of going to voicemail.

“Of course I don’t, Jared, I’m not a fucking nerd! I just thought I might extend my offer of filling the fountain in the middle of campus with bubble bath and a swim to you and Payton! D already said if I woke him up he would cut my dick off and feed it to his snake,” Remus audibly pouted at the end of his sentence.

Despite it being three am, it didn’t take a lot for Jared to wake up Payton and agree to meet him just off campus to run to the 24/7 convenience store for soap for the fountain. Remus leads the group in talking a mile a minute about something that Jared and Payton actually missed out on entirely. They try to contribute but realize Remus doesn’t notice when they have their own conversation anyways. They listen to him vaguely flit through topic after topic and get lost and confused in his own sentences, and once the soap is collected, they head to the large fountain in the middle of campus.

The fifth bottle of soap has been discarded and the fountain is sufficiently bubbly by the time the three hockey players strip to their boxers and begin their bath. There are attempted drownings, bubble beards, and the fountain change being thrown around.

At some point Remus stops talking for a second, observing the lithium bulbs through the fountain streams and bubbles floating across the courtyard. For a moment, he thinks he’s never been this happy in his life, these last few days have been the best days of his life. He lets Jared and Payton know this and like stare at him for a moment before teasing him about going soft and a few “I love you, bro” “Dude, you mean so much to me” and such were exchanged. They leave moments before campus security’s due to do their rounds in the early morning and laugh when about an hour later they receive a campus-wide notification to avoid the courtyard for repairs.

—

Remus spends most of practice being more annoying than usual. He gets a bit more of a stern talking to than he has in a while, in response says that he’ll try to do better to prepare for the game this weekend.

—

He did not succeed and got an even sterner talking to by Coach Thomas and Joan, and then by Roman separately.

—

Remus has a brief moment of clarity regarding his spending habits from the last week and a half in the middle of his current project. His solution is instead of buying the club size container of hot sauce, he makes a trip to the Taco Bell off campus. After dropping off the rest of his goods at the apartment, it was pretty late in the evening and he was dressed in nothing but neon green basketball shorts, slides, and a pretty badly stained grey tank top. Thankfully, Florida weather permitted this, though the looks he had been receiving all day disagreed. It likely did not help that if prompted, Remus wasn’t 100% on the last time that he slept, but if he had to guess it was two or three days ago, but that was probably a maximum of five hours. Surprisingly, he had never felt so good in his life. He’s also pretty sure he’s said that a lot this week.

He leaves Taco Bell with a small meal bag full of hot sauce at no cost.

—

D doesn’t ask any questions when he uses the bathroom in the early morning and is met with the sight of Remus in the bathtub. He is covered in a large variety of substances. The floor is covered in Taco Bell hot sauce wrappers, there’s a box full of water balloons of various colours and sizes. Remus waves with his available hand before he resumes filling the current water balloon with what may be a bulk container of banana lube. D pisses, not bothering to ask Remus to leave and just pulls the shower curtain over a little before washing his hands and deciding to figure it out tomorrow.

The next day, D woke up around 10am to a few texts saying some prick is throwing weird water balloons at first years off this academic building on campus. D didn’t think much about it until he was leaving his 12:30 lecture walking past splatters of mayo, egg, egg shells, hot sauce, and more, all separately. While observing the damage he found Remus asleep on some grass outside said academic building and had to call Logan for help to get him home. The two are used to this by now and D reminds himself to tell Remus to clear his ‘great ideas’ with someone containing a braincell.

—

Remus spends a good majority of his day listening to one song in the living room of the shared apartment. He was there when D left for classes, he was there when Roman left a little later in the day, failing to go to his own classes at all that day. The second D returns for lunch Remus is trying to explain a hidden meaning in the song, D brushes it off and reminds Remus, that to pass his classes he has to at least go.

—

This is Remus’s third night out in an area of town he really doesn’t know. He went home yesterday for early practice before coming back out. He knows it didn’t go well.

In attempts to make himself feel better, he blew a guy who’s name he already forgot but was hot as hell, he lost count of the shots he’s done, but at least there’s no practice tomorrow. He doesn’t have to worry about when he goes home, doesn’t have to worry about Roman or D and their weird concerned looks. He’s doing great! Why are they concerned, they just don’t get it.

At 2 am everyone gets kicked out of the club. Remus walks six blocks with his new friends with the promise of couch space to crash on and additional alcohol.

It’s suddenly 4:47 am and Remus is the only one awake and all the booze is gone. He is sitting under lithium streetlights smoking a cigarette on the porch of a strangers house with the humid Florida wind enables him to sit comfortably without a jacket. There is a moment, with sirens in the distance that Remus lets his eyes go out of focus. For the first time in who knows how long, he feels present. There is cracked cement under his feet, a dog barking a few houses down, and he wonders why he’s even here. The hidden Prince twin, here, in a city he has only been to once for a tournament, in a stranger’s house, drunk off his ass, his phone dead. He takes time to wonder, is this fun to him? It has to be right? Why did he just leave without telling anyone? Spending nights on the streets, or finding someone to go home with just so he didn’t have to find somewhere else to sleep. Is this who he is now?

He doesn’t know if he can answer that. Remus shakes himself before putting out his cigarette on his arm and deciding it doesn’t matter.

He still doesn’t sleep that night, but plugs in his phone and decides he needs to go home soon.

—

This is a different club than the previous night, someone sold Remus a few pills earlier and he figured why not? He feels better than ever. He lets the man he’s making out with know that and he lets out a kind of raspy laugh that Remus thinks is the hottest thing. He lets the other man know that too before sticking his tongue down his throat.

—

Remus is in the park yelling. It is almost 6pm, he pauses for a moment, completely forgetting what he was yelling about. He realizes that he is pretty drunk. Remus would normally like to say he only drinks with an excuse, but he doesn’t remember why he’s drunk, or how he got to the park. This isn’t near campus, he doesn’t recognize this park at all. He just stops yelling and googles the next bus to take him home.

—

Upon arriving home and greeting D, Remus falls asleep in his room for almost 12 hours to make up for the missing sleep from the last four days. When he is woken up for food and offered tylenol for his hangover, he tries to tell them he doesn’t have one. They don’t believe him, but he takes the food. Remus makes a joke recalling how the other day all he had eaten was some stale croutons he found in a pantry and half a bottle of Fireball he found in the fridge nearby. The joke did not land, but he was too busy laughing about it to notice.

The three eat their Sunday lunch with small amounts of banter and D switching between who he agrees with based on who’s statement didn’t sound like it came from a six year old. As they clean up, Remus starts excitedly talking about something that’s topic changed around four times in one sentence. Roman feigns interest but got lost and doesn’t care enough; D listens and has to ask Remus to repeat things slower every few minutes.

—

Several times throughout the night, D hears Remus loudly leave his room to check the front door. In the early morning D doesn’t hear Remus return to his room, but faintly hears netflix turn on in the living room.

In the morning, Remus seems wary of the door but does not say anything.

—

One day while messing around in the kitchen Remus is struck with the need to just go. The urge is so strong that the more he stands still in the kitchen the more his body just begins to tremble with barely contained energy. He doesn’t quite know where he’s going yet, but as he grabs his wallet, double checking he has his bus pass and ID, a jacket, his phone, and his keys. Without telling anyone, he walks to the main exchange near campus where he hops on the first bus that arrives. The bus isn’t particularly busy, and it makes it easier for him as he settles into the back of the bus bopping to his music, but not having the focus to listen to a song all the way through. He hits his hands softly on the very 90’s looking patterned seats to the beat of the song, watching out the windows with both legs bouncing. He rides this bus to the end of the line and catches the next bus to arrive at that bus exchange that takes him into a new smaller city. The sun is beginning to set and he finds a pub to grab some food and a few drinks at.

An hour and a half and four drinks later Remus is fighting some asshole in the pub and they both get kicked out. He wanders these smaller streets buzzed and poking at forming bruises while he smokes a cigarette. He walks by a convenience store and two homeless men outside ask him for a cigarette, he shares and spends a solid amount of time socializing with them and gets some booze for his troubles. They eventually part ways when one of them come out from the bathroom with a pack of stolen cookies. The store attendant chases them away and Remus finds himself wandering down empty streets again. Eventually, Remus decides to sleep for a few hours curled up in a stairwell, he doesn’t quite sleep, but does relax. Again, in the sounds of small city life, yellowed flickering light bulbs, and humid wind, Remus wonders why he’s out here.

—

The flashing neon lights and bass heavy music resonate through Remus’s bones like electricity giving him a never ending feedback loop of energy. Just before the club closes Remus sweet-talks a kind of nerdy looking guy into taking him home, while he’s mostly just hoping to not sleep outside tonight, getting laid wont hurt either.

—

Sneaking out of someone’s house before they wake up isn’t something Remus is necessarily proud of, but he doesn’t want to risk them doing something cheesy like make him breakfast. Sorry sir, Remus is a Manic Pixie Nightmare Boy, do not catch feelings, do not use for your own character development. He laughs to himself a little walking down the morning rush streets.

—

After waking up in bed with a man he doesn’t remember meeting the night before is a little jarring, but this is not the first time. It makes him wonder briefly if something is wrong with him. Remus is tired. Exhausted with himself and getting a little tired of this much fun. Instead of finding a diner for breakfast he catches a bus home and asks Logan if they can hang out tomorrow. If anyone will force him to go home, go to practice, sleep and not give him a choice to study or not without expecting him to explain himself. It will be everyone’s favourite Large Nerd. Remus doesn’t know what’s happening or why he feels like this, but he needs to go home and stop this for a little bit.Virgil, D, and Logan will help him get things a little back on track.

[narrans]

One Shot | September Prompts

SIXTEEN & SEVENTEEN | Ninth Day & Limp

It should have been anticipated. It was only natural. Logical. With Logan now behind the wheel reading a vast majority of legal texts, the processes and loophole exposure was becoming faster and faster with every passing day. He may not be a lawyer in accordance with the law, but he could present an effective argument with supporting evidence at the drop of a hat. Logan, still uncomfortable speaking with the other humans at the shelter, proposed a compromise – he would create detailed notes and attend the group discussions, contributing clarification from the relative safety of the vents or the top shelf of Thomas’ office bookcase when necessary. Logan was slowly getting used to the other humans, but being seen by so many humans simultaneously, even after a year later, was unnerving.

One of the crucial details the human courts failed to address was how to prove the abuse of borrowers without concrete evidence. The methods before relied on whistleblowing and the extremely rare, quite improbable, testimony obtained from surviving borrowers. It took a painstaking amount of time, but traction was gaining as more people began to realize the sentience of borrowers. As a result, the courts determined that timeliness was an issue and permitted the distribution of permits and faster turnaround of warrants for observation and intervention.

Suddenly, Thomas and his team were able to go out more frequently and investigate, spending time observing humans who had obtained borrowers through one set of means or another. New faces came daily for nearly two weeks, a phenomenon the Tiny Shelter hadn’t experienced. The members in the walls maintained and evolved their culture. Half of the basement turned into a major construction site as borrowers began building and constructing more homes. Everyone cautiously optimistic, but they were far from their goal. Still, every new face helped. One of these cautiously optimistic days, however, turned on a dime.

It was on the nineth day of observations. Ali was the primary tipster. An emergency call came from an old apartment complex and, naturally, Ali and the other EMTs responded. The person apparently suffered from some sort of heart attack and required resuscitation; however, Ali noticed far more when she was inside of the apartments. Glossed over by her fellow paramedics, Ali noticed cages, fragments of doll clothing, and peculiar stains on tables, carpet, and on the doll clothing itself. Ali had stepped away only for a moment and managed to glimpse past one of the ajar doors, drawn by the sound of soft sobbing. She knew what she saw and stealthily snuck several unblurred photos as evidence. After the individual was secured and they made it back to the ambulance, Ali sent Thomas the pictures.

Thomas called immediately after, but Ali was unable to answer as she was still at work. Needless to say, Thomas was floored by what he saw. There were dozens of small cages, perfect for a borrower; or, rather, a borrower child. The team set out immediately to obtain a warrant based on Ali’s testimony and photographs. Logan armed them as best as he could with other cases which set precedence, but he could only do so much. There was also the issue of Ali taking photographs of someone’s private home while they were being stabilized. There were more than enough paramedics and EMTs to ensure the person would be alright, but she spent time taking photographs of an area which was not with the patient. Secretly, Ali prayed she wouldn’t be fired as a result of potentially breaking some ethical rule or another. The team could only insinuate and urge for observational time, which they were allowed – barely, and under strict supervision by local authorities.

As part of their preparation for potentially receiving a large number of children, the team had asked Roman, Remus, Hickory, and even Logan to spread the word and ask if anyone would be willing to volunteer to help foster the kids, if that was indeed who they were dealing with. They were still waiting for word to spread when they left to observe the apartment. Unbeknownst to them, Hickory had slipped herself into Ali’s pack to tag along and help in whatever way she could. Hickory had become more and more impatient with Ali recently, frequently criticizing her and how she allowed Logan to help but did not allow her to assist. Ali, a pillar of calm, somehow managed to explain and finagle her way out of a stab from the sharpened thumbtack Hickory kept at her hip. On this day, however, Hickory ignored Ali’s warnings and decided to come with the team.

The team was eight days in and on their nineth day of observation. The officers were called away because of a nearby robbery and made the executive decision to trust that the team would adhere to the laws and regulations they swore to uphold. At one point, Ali had to step away because of a phone call. When Ali returned, she pulled Thomas forcefully to the side. They talked in hushed whispers. Thomas looked concerned and seemed to be reassuring Ali, but Ali waved it away. She looked determined, but also like she was barely holding herself steady. They had the evidence they needed yet were mortified at what was before them. They would have stayed longer had it not been for someone’s agonizing cries and a string of curses from Ali’s slightly unzippered bag.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan paced anxiously along the bookcase in the main room. Evening was approaching fast. He had a perfect view of the door for when the team arrived. It would be today or tomorrow that they would get the go-ahead to seize the children. Logan hoped his evidence was enough. Had he been foolish when he rejected the opportunity to speak on his fellow borrowers’ behalf in front of a judge? No. Had he gone, he was not certain he would be able to keep his natural instincts in check. Logan compiled that fact with the other, which was that he had not been held or carried by a human in nearly a year. He had interacted with one, yes – Ali – but she tried to maintain her distance. Logan corrected himself. He had been carried, if it could even be called that, once – when he and Ali were stargazing on the roof. It was frigid and Logan had not prepared enough warm blankets, electing to lay next to Ali on her shoulder and under her blankets. He adjusted his glasses. It wasn’t really that bad. She hadn’t grabbed him. She was very still and calm. Plus, he had seen his first meteor shower – a truly magical experience as Roman would phrase it.

His reminiscing of the meteor shower was sharply interrupted by the entire Shelter team coming in through the front door followed by furious shouts, but not from anyone on the team. He felt his heartrate quicken and, instinctively, he gravitated to the bookends to better disguise his presence to the unobservant human. Logan tilted his head to better distinguish the voice. It was unmistakably Hickory’s voice, and she was once again yelling at Ali – but something was different this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“LET ME GO YOU IGNORANT, INSENSITIVE, OVERGROWN FRACK!” Hickory’s shrill voice could break glass. She hadn’t stopped shouting the entire way home. Thankfully, Ali had ridden her motorcycle which drowned out a lot of Hickory’s insults. Now, however, Hickory was no longer being hindered by the wind. Ali was holding Hickory, slightly tighter than her normal, open-handed grip, while Hickory repeatedly jabbed her thumbtack into Ali’s hand. “YOU COWARD! YOU LEFT THEM! YOU LEFT THEM TO DIE!” The counter was just ahead. Ali’s features, neutral, hardened, and tired, reflected defeat and pain. Ali placed Hickory on the counter gently and withdrew her hand as soon as she was able, but not before Hickory managed to give her one more slice across her palm. The rest of the team congregated, looking equally as defeated, in the living room, sitting on the sofa with hands on their heads. They stayed like this for only a moment before pulling out their phones, anxiously making calls to their contacts.

Thomas, on the other hand, approached quickly in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Hickory, please try to lower your voice.” Hickory ignored his request, her seething eyes fixated on one lone target.

“Hickory,” Ali said, her voice cool and calm. “I know you’re upset. I am too, but you shouldn’t shout.”

“Why the FRACK not!” hollered Hickory. “Are you afraid the others will realize what useless cowards you are?” Ali made no attempt to stop her hand from bleeding. Drops of her blood gathered at her fingertips and threatened to drop onto the ground. Motionless, Ali stood like a scolded child.

“We’re doing everything we can, but the judge said we couldn’t act until tomorrow. The evidence we gath…”

“EVIDENCE! THAT’S WHAT YOU CALL EVIDENCE?” Hickory interrupted, her face flushing scarlet. Ali winced and took a calming breath before continuing.

“Unfortunately… yes. We have enough to convict them. They won’t get out for years with the new laws passed, hopefully more,” said Ali. Logan had never seen Ali this way before. Her usual glow had faded. She seemed defeated and small, and not just because of Logan’s current position on the bookshelf.

“Yeah, but not the right laws! You’re going to get them for their ‘content distribution’ and not what they were ACTUALLY doing!” Hickory pointed an accusing finger at Ali. “Admit it. You can’t actually do anything for us, can you?”

“That’s not true.” Even Ali’s counterpoints sounded weak. “We have everyone here. They’re living as normally as they can given the circumstances. Plus…”

“Oh, well thank the heavens above we can get our scraps,” Hickory rolled her eyes and began angrily pacing a few steps at a time before turning on her heel and moving in the opposite direction, as if she didn’t know which direction she wanted to start sprinting in first. “What happens when you lazies show up tomorrow and no one is there because…” Hickory was so flustered and angry she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Hickory, we’ll get them. That’s what the team is doing now. They’re contacting who they can,” said Ali.

“AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH?” shouted Hickory as she threw her thumbtack at Ali. Thankfully, it did not hit her and, instead, fell to the floor by Ali’s shoe. Ali bent over and picked it up with her uninjured hand and set it on the counter. Logan stared from his obvious hiding place, confounded. What happened? What was making Hickory behave like this? What happened to Ali?

There was a silence as Hickory and Ali locked eyes. Not surprisingly, Ali looked away first. Thomas’ eyes flicked between them, waiting for what would happen next.

At that moment, Roman and Remus appeared over the edge of the counter, climbing as frantically as they could. Roman, arriving first, barely managed to pant out a statement. “What… what is go…going on?”

Remus followed suit. “My thoughts exactly. You’re howling more than me on one of my good night. What’s going on? What happened?” Hickory glared over her shoulder at her fellow borrowers before backing up and pointing at them, once again locking eyes onto Ali.

“You wanna tell them? You wanna fess up to what you witness and did NOTHING about?” Hickory folded her arms pointedly across her chest.

“Hickory, we can only do so much. We’re bound, legally. We can’t jeopardize this place falling into the wrong hands,” urged Ali. Logan wasn’t good about pinpointing emotions, but was Ali’s voice trembling? Was he mistaken? She sounded as she did on the night she spoke of her father – barely able to speak because she was upset.

“Then, please,” encouraged Hickory sarcastically. “Tell them about how your legal bonds are KILLING US.” Roman and Remus both appeared alarmed as they turned to Ali and Thomas for some sort of reassurance that Hickory was incorrect. Their hopes were quickly being dashed.

“By the horn of a unicorn, will someone please tell us what is going on without all of this drama?” asked Roman, his resounding voice more commanding than friendly. Ali tensed, but started before Thomas.

“We have been observing the people I reported. For eight days, we’ve seen some messed up stuff, but tonight was worse…�� Ali’s voice trailed off. Her injured hand twitched involuntarily, both sending drops of blood onto the floor and a wince onto Ali’s face.

“GASP! Why don’t you just say it?” demanded Hickory. Neither Thomas nor Ali could speak fast enough before Hickory continued. “Well… isn’t this great. Can’t even get it up. They’re eating the kids, Roman. Those fracking monsters are torturing the kids before killing them. They’ve got this whole set-up and everything. And, apparently, we can’t do anything because of guess who… all of these stupid fracking human laws made for humans to serve humans.”

The silence seized each person’s being, Hickory’s mortifying statement lingering in the air. Roman and Remus both looked as though they had been punched in the gut, the breath knocked from their bodies. Roman fell to his knees, slightly hunched over due to the wave of nausea stabbing his insides, while Remus stabilized himself on his twin. Ali was now staring at her bloody palm. Thomas’ eyes drifted back to his team, who was still making frantic calls to whoever would listen. Some of them even fished out their laptops to begin distributing the pictures for their campaign and petition. Logan didn’t need to be nearby to hear what was said. He, too, collapsed to his knees. His heart stopped, pumping nothing yet pounding against his chest. Remus cleared his obviously constricted throat to break the silence first.

“Th…that’s… messed up,” muttered Remus.

“Duh,” growled Hickory. “And we could have done SOMETHING.”

“There was nothing we could have done in that moment,” interjected Thomas. “In that moment, we made a decision and we cannot second guess it now. We are bound by laws we cannot control, for now. We made the best choice we could given what we are allowed to do, and it’s done.”

“Hickory, you know why we couldn’t do anything today. We wanted to. We still want to. If we can get someone up and sign the paper we’ll go back right now. Things like this take time. I know how you feel…” Ali’s statement was cut short.

“Oh, do you? How do you know how that feels, Ali? Tell me. Please. I’m so interested to know how you know what it feels like to see your own kind get eaten by a monster. Go ahead, I’m waiting.” Hickory’s statement stung, that much was obvious.

“I meant… I know how it feels to want to do something and you can’t,” muttered Ali. She was losing whatever inner battle she was waging in her mind, Logan could see that much. Each jab Hickory made seemed to make Ali recede further and further into herself. Logan had never seen Ali like this. Hickory scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” spat Hickory as she turned her back on Ali, arms folded for just a moment before they flailed apart and one hand pointed accusingly at Ali. “You know, you’re just like your step-father.” Logan watched as something in Ali seemed to tense and flare. A calm settled over her, but it was a darker calm. Her eyes intensified. Her fists clenched, her injured hand squeezing more blood from the wounds like a wrung-out sponge.

“Don’t you dare compare me to him. You know better than that. I’m nothing like him.” Ali’s voice was still soft and even, yet came out a little more than a growl. A callous smile curled into Hickory’s lips, as though she had won some sort of silent debate already.

“Hickory,” muttered Roman, still in a daze yet trying to snap Hickory out of whatever tangent she was about to unleash.

“It’s the truth. He was nothing but a pathetic loser, blaming everyone but himself. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. He pretended to be nice so others would like him because, deep down, he knew he was nothing but a raging dumpster fire. A raging, alcoholic dumpster fire.” Hickory glared right back into Ali’s quaking eyes.

“Hickory, you don’t mean that,” Ali’s voice was obviously shaking, but that only encouraged the verbal prodding.

“Maybe that’s what brought your mom to him. She thought she could fix him. She thought he was something special when she should have given up on him a long time ago. He was a deadbeat manipulator and had her played. Maybe that’s what drove her to drink and drug up.” Ali’s knuckles were whitening, jaw clenched, body rigid. Thomas stepped forward.

“Hickory, that’s enough,” said Thomas firmly. “Taking out your anger on Ali isn’t going to help anyone.”

“No, it won’t help anyone, just like you all didn’t help anyone,” shot Hickory, eyes flicking to Thomas momentarily before gazing back upon her prey. “Just like your dad didn’t help anyone when he got shot to pieces. How did that help you? Oh wait… it didn’t.” Ali’s eyes flared, anger igniting deep within them.

“Don’t you dare speak ill of my dad when you didn’t even know him.” Ali’s tone, still quite and even, intensified.

“Oh, well… if we’re exchanging parental stories, then here’s one. My mother was a fantastic borrower. So were my sisters, before we were ripped apart and given to that sick psycho of a step-father you have. Like step-father, like step-daughter, you did nothing to help us, even when we were bleeding out.”

“I did help, and you know it.”

“Only after I was the last one standing.”

“I didn’t know.”

“And the moment you did, what did you do?”

“I helped.”

“You helped too late!” spat Hickory. “And that’s why you have your family and I don’t have mine. Oh wait… you don’t have one anymore.”

There was something chilling to the way Hickory spoke. A deep cold which sat buried deep in one’s chest. Untouchable. Cruel. It is the part someone turns to when all else fails, when they wish to inflict a deep, aching pain in someone else. No one knew what to do next. Their hesitation was tangible in the room. Did they console Ali, who stood trembling waging some sort of mental war within herself, barely able to stand composed? Did they scold Hickory? Reprimand her for the things she said out of anger and frustration? What if other borrowers saw the fight? Heard what was said? Would they flee? Try to leave what they believed to be a stable place because of this frightful display? What was Ali’s next move? Thomas knew Ali. He knew her past. He knew faults. He knew how hurt she was in this moment. But, now, with such a verbal assault, he was unsure of what Ali would do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything went numb in her body. Her mind possessed no thought. Breath hitched somewhere in her lungs, refusing to move. Something left a cold trace on her face like a stenciled line drawn by a thick, wet brush. Her eyes, unfocused, lost sight. Everything was blurred and hazy, colors blending together in unnamable shapes. She could have sworn her heart stopped. Ali was vaguely aware her body was shaking, injured hand twitching and dripping precious blood onto the hardwood floor. Finally, a spark in her mind and her heart brought her back to the present. A single, fatal word. Fine.

Such a word usually conveyed a neutral or positive state of mind. Ali was used to being “fine.” She was fine with working the graveyard shift because she needed the extra pay so she could funnel what she made into the Shelter. She was fine with being mistrusted because of the wonderful challenge it brought with earning trust and respect from the other residence. She was fine that she was constantly watched and viewed skeptically, because she knew who she was and that is what mattered. She was used to being a lot of things. This, however, was not that kind of “fine.”

Wordless with tears lining the sides of her face and nose, Ali pulled her helmet from under her arm, turned, and walked toward the door.

“Go ahead then. Run away! Go drown your sorrows in a bottle of booze!” shouted Hickory as she folded her arms and turned her back to the door. Thomas shot a daggered glare at Hickory.

“Ali, wait! Please!” called Thomas, taking a few faltering steps forward. He was not fast enough before Ali shut the door quietly behind her.

“Ali…” Roman and Remus seemed to utter simultaneously, their voices filled with sadness in their poor excuse to call her back. Thomas had just made it to the door when the signature sound of her motorcycle engine roared to life. It screamed into the evening air as Ali revved the engine and pealed out of the driveway and onto the road. She was gone. Thomas turned to Hickory with a venomous glare.

“She did not deserve that and you know it!” Thomas was careful to keep his voice from raising while also expressing his seething displeasure and disappointment.

“She’s a big girl and can handle herself,” retorted Hickory.

“You know about the phone call she got while we were out. You know she just found out…” Thomas’s voice trailed off. Remus spoke up first.

“Phone call? What phone call?” he asked. Thomas calmed himself for a moment before responding to Remus.

“Ali got a call while we were out that her mother just passed away,” muttered Thomas. “But you know what? She wanted to stay and help finish the job before dealing with that. Plus, you know about her past, Hickory.” Roman and Remus realized suddenly they were glaring at Hickory.

“Hickory, how could you say something so cruel?” asked Roman, finally regaining himself. Hickory, on the other hand, appeared offended.

“How could I? You’re angry at me? After everything you heard, I’m suddenly the bad guy?” she demanded, turning back to Thomas. “And, at any rate, it’s not your problem! Shouldn’t you be figuring out how to save the others? Or are you going to stand there and tell me how to live my life? Guess what. You don’t get to do that. I am not a pet, so leave me alone!”

Thomas stiffened and took nearly twenty seconds, breathing in sharply, holding his breath, and releasing it slowly. “No one here has ever treated you like that – especially Ali. You’re right, it’s not my problem. It’s yours.” With that, Thomas walked into the next room with his team as he removed his phone from his pocket. They heard him leave a message. The team, evidently, had stopped working after hearing the outburst one room over but returned the moment Thomas entered the room. Hickory, who could have breathed fire at that moment, stormed off toward the rappel lines and slid off the table without another word. Roman and Remus, after quite some time, made their way to the room with Thomas and the others to offer support in whatever way they could.

Logan, from his perch, witnessed the entire encounter. He knew Hickory was eccentric and often belittled Ali as some sort of severe power dynamic. He knew Hickory told him she acted the way she did with Ali to show the other borrowers that Ali wouldn’t hurt them, regardless of what Ali endured. This exchange, however, was different. Hickory was angry, and rightfully so, but took her anger out on Ali, who barely made a defense for herself. There was something more to their friendship, if Logan could even call it that after the exchange he witnessed. The mention of Hickory’s family was the first Logan remembered; but, to think Ali’s step-father had something to do with it? Logan thought back to that evening when he and Ali talked through the night and her description of her step-father and how her, now late, mother’s behavior changed soon after they engaged in an official matrimony. Someone who was manipulative and could twist a mother against her own daughter was someone who would certainly see a borrower as a lesser being. All of these things made Logan’s chest hurt and tighten painfully. It made everything Hickory said sting worse.

It was an odd sensation, feeling someone else’s pain. Logan prided himself in being able to distance himself, to remain unattached and effective – sound in body and mind. Now? Everything hurt. His head hurt in trying to work the pieces of the puzzle together. His body ached from tensing for so long. His chest and his heart throbbed in his chest as though he were the one chastised for something he could not control. He wiped his eyes as if he could wipe away what he had seen and froze. Withdrawing his hand, he noticed it was wet. He was so focused on how he felt internally he did not realize his body was shaking and his eyes were wet. So, until the wave passed, Logan resigned himself to sit. After what was most likely hours, he stood, shakily, and climbed back through the walls. Rather than move to his room and enjoy some well earned rest, he headed to Ali’s room. She said once he was good at listening and a friend she could talk to. When… not if… when she returned, perhaps he could listen again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hours later. Much later than Thomas would have liked to admit. He tried calling. He tried texting. Nothing. No contact. No update. No Ali. His anxiety and worry for Ali’s well being mixed with frustration. How could she leave like that? He understood why, but it was the way she left that bothered him. Where had she gone to? He prayed silently she would not return to old habits. He pleaded desperately in his mind that she would come home safe. Goodness knew he had received one too many phone calls in the past about an injury or incident. He realized his breath had quickened and he was wearing a place in the carpet ragged. The other members of the team, not knowing Ali as well as him, offered to stay up or go out to look for her; all offers he dismissed with a kind smile. Everyone would need their strength for their raid on the apartments the next morning.

Roman and Remus, on the other hand, refused to leave Thomas’s side. They asked a few other borrowers to help prepare for the children’s arrival the next day so they could help Thomas. At any rate, there wasn’t much left to do now. Beds were prepared. Medical stations and first-aid how-to pamphlets were distributed and demonstrated thanks to Logan and, surprisingly, Virgil at Patton’s request. They were ready; at least, as ready as they could be at the moment.

The hour just passed two in the morning. Large, fluffy snowflakes drifted just outside of the windows and began to coat the ground. Thomas, Roman, and Remus were dozing off in separate locations around the room, fighting sleep with every last fiber of effort they possessed. Soon after, they heard a deep, thunderous rumble outside in the driveway. The sound of an engine, a motorcycle engine. Instantly, Thomas was on his feet, yet he did not move from his place by the couch. Roman and Remus also sat up, heads tilted slightly tilted toward the sound of the engine rumble and fade. They were silent. A stillness settled over the sleepy home they shared. A single shadow approached the door. Keys jingled and slid reluctantly into the deadbolt, then the lock. The door cracked open and sent a blast of frigid air through the room. To the relief and frustration of the drowsy living room occupants, Ali crossed the threshold and came into the room.

Her helmet was under her left arm and a small carrying bag was in her right, which was bandaged thoroughly. Specks and streaks of blood had already soaked through some of the bandages. Ali seemed like she was in a daze, stumbling with a single step when it caught on the welcome mat at the entrance. Thomas stepped forward immediately, his face steeled. Ali’s shoulders slumped slightly and she refused to make eye contact with him. She looked worn out.

“Welcome back,” said Thomas. Ali hummed a quick acknowledgment as she stepped up to the wooden counter. “Where have you been?”

“Out,” Ali muttered. “Where are Roman and Remus? Have they gone to bed yet?”

“Don’t change the subject. Obviously you were out. Care to explain further?” questioned Thomas, an intuitive, knowing look in his eyes. When Ali didn’t respond after a beat, Thomas decided to press his luck. “We were really worried about you, Ali.”

“We?” grumbled Ali. Her movements were slow and even as she raised the case and set it on the table.

“Yes. We. The team, Roman, Remus, myself, Logan…” Thomas rattled off the names, but Ali seemed unphased at the moment. Roman and Remus finally managed to make it onto the table and began to jog toward Ali when they noticed the case. It was the same case they used when they were on a rescue. Thomas, for seemingly the first time, noticed the case.

“What’s this?” asked Roman, managing his words faster than his brother or Thomas. Ali smiled weakly while unzipping the case.

“New arrivals,” she said softly. Her voice, still laced with sadness, possessed some of its familiar mystique and charm as she folded the entrance down. “It’s okay. We’re here now.” Ali glanced at Roman and Remus. “I’m sorry to spring this on you. Do you feel okay to give your spiel? Just… let them know what this place is while I get some beds together.” Roman and Remus, stunned, felt their smiles return. This was the Ali they knew.

“Of course!” beamed Remus. “Always ready to serve. I am to please after all.” Roman elbowed his brother as they both stepped up to the bag’s entrance. They had seen many things, but nothing quite like the scene before them. Ali’s glove was shoved in the corner and acted as a large comforter for five new faces. One of them, a boy in his late teens, seemed to be the protector of the group based on the way he held a makeshift shield and a broken pin as a sword. There were two younger children, possibly no older than ten, who looked like twins. One appeared to be the mother, clutching her children close to her body. The last, another boy in his early teens, was severely bruised and, shockingly, wore very little clothing. The clothing he did wear included a leather collar and very short shorts. It appeared as though this was an entire family unit, each of them sharing similar features with the next. They shied away from Roman and Remus’s smiles, yet appeared simultaneously relieved at the sight of other borrowers.

“Friend?” asked the oldest child. His authoritarian voice was clear, concise, and deadly serious. Roman smiled.

“Friend,” Roman confirmed. “Welcome to the Shelter. I’m Roman, this is my brother, Remus. Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” The eldest, still skeptical, lowered his shield but kept the pin close.

“The human explained a little about this place. Is she still out there?”

“Ali? Yes, she’s here. There’s another human too, Thomas. He helped found this place with my brother and I. Don’t worry though. He’s like Ali, one of the good ones,” replied Roman, adding a dashing smile for reassurance. The twins looked up at their mother.

“Are we safe now momma?” they asked. Roman now could hear that they were fraternal twins, one boy and one girl. Their mother, rather than reply, smiled and kissed each of their heads.

“You are now,” grinned Remus. “Come on, let’s get you all settled in a room. We have one right next to our place. You can stay there for tonight and look at some more permanent places in the morning if you feel up to it.” The family stood shakily and approached cautiously, catching a glimpse of a still tensed Ali and Thomas. The eldest steeled himself and walked out with what confidence he had left and nodded curtly to Ali before assisting his family to the rappel lines. Before descending, he directed himself to Ali.

“You said it is not a requirement to see you tomorrow about… my brother’s injuries,” he stated firmly. Ali nodded.

“That’s right. You don’t have to see me ever if you don’t want to. Still, he does have some injuries I would like to check on with your permission. It will be later in the day when I get back so you don’t have to think about it for a while. Just, get some rest and I’ll see you maybe,” replied Ali. They could hear the honey-sweet tone returning to Ali’s voice as she spoke. The eldest nodded and began lowering his family down the lines until all of them were out of sight. Roman and Remus glanced to Thomas before also disappearing from sight, calling over their shoulders that they would be back after settling the family.

Thomas and Ali were now alone in the living room. After nearly twenty minutes, Roman and Remus returned. Also, by their side, jogged a very out-of-breath Logan. Ali, still unmoving and honed in on the bag, still kept her eyes from Thomas until he stepped closer.

“Ali,” panted Logan. “I’m glad to see you home and unharmed.” Ali’s lips curled into a sweet grin.

“It’s good to be back. I’m sorry I worried you all. I didn’t mean to be out so late.” apologized Ali.

“Ali,” started Thomas. “What happened? Where’d you go? Where did you find them?” Ali cleared her throat and moved to walk past Thomas to the staircase.

“Not now, Thomas. I heard your messages and we have a big day and need some sleep,” she muttered. Thomas reached out and tugged at Ali’s uninjured forearm.

“No. We need to talk. Where did you go?” asked Thomas, more forcefully this time. Ali’s eyes locked onto the stairs. Her jaw clenched.

“Let it go, Thomas,” muttered Ali, the same defeat from earlier creeping back into her voice.

“I need to know…” Thomas braced himself with a breath. “Did you drink?” Ali tensed and turned slowly to Thomas.

“That’s what this is about?” she asked disbelievingly.

“You know our agreement.” Logan leaned over to Roman and Remus, who seemed equally as tense as he did.

“Agreement? What agreement?” asked Logan hurriedly under his breath. Roman and Remus shrugged and motioned for Logan to wait and listen.

“I’m clean. Wanna fetch the breathalyzer?” Ali paused and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Thomas nodded quietly, yet his eyes still conveyed his silent skepticism. Ali sighed, knowing Thomas’s stubbornness at the very least matched her own on certain matters.

“I took a drive around for a while. I did go into one of the bars nearby…” Ali paused, ensuring her eyes locked with Thomas’s so he could detect any and all falsehoods. “I did order a drink… and I watched the ice melt. Then I left… and went to see my dad… to…” Ali’s voice faltered for a moment before she continued, but not before she cleared her throat a few times.

“I just wanted to talk to him… that’s when I met them.” Thomas and the others could only assume Ali meant the other borrowers she brought in from the frigid night. At the moment, Thomas wasn’t as concerned about them. Instead, he smiled proudly.

“I believe you,” he muttered under his breath. Ali nodded, her face wincing slightly knowing exactly what was on the line if she had broken their agreement. Thomas extended his arm, a signature nonverbal for “do you want a hug?”. Ali nodded and silently slipped under his arm into a comforting hug. Ali’s frame shuddered, releasing the tension she kept pent up from the day, as she pressed herself into the thoughtful embrace. Thomas rubbed her shoulder and glanced to catch a glimpse of her face.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked. He didn’t need to see her face to feel her nod slowly. Thomas smiled and looked to Roman, Remus, and Logan. “Would you three like some tea?” Logan and Roman both nodded while Remus seemed less enthused by the idea of drinking warm leaf water so late at night. Before the humans could leave, Remus cleared his throat and stepped to the edge.

“I don’t know about the others, but would you mind giving me a lift to the kitchen? I’m worn out,” asked Remus. Thomas nodded and laid his hand on the table. Roman joined him after a moment. Logan, however, hesitated. Thomas headed to the kitchen while Ali stayed with him.

“I am sorry if I worried you Logan,” Ali apologized again. “I didn’t mean to walk out like that… I just… didn’t know what else to do.” Logan folded his hands behind his back and shook his head.

“No need to apologize,” he stated before hesitantly continuing. “I… did witness the exchange between you and Hickory.” Ali stiffened and averted her eyes quickly. Logan, afraid he might upset Ali again, continued quickly. “I just wanted to say that she had no rite to say those things to you and that I’m sorry that happened.” Ali nodded, but her signature smile remained hidden.

“Thank you. I… know I don’t deserve it but thank you.” Logan smiled and glanced toward the kitchen. The distance wasn’t far, but it was late and even his nocturnal schedule was failing him, eyes tiring slightly. He felt his pulse raising, knowing what he wanted to ask while feeling instinctual terror. He rolled his shoulders, reminding himself of the facts.

“Ali?” he began. Ali’s bright eyes flicked over to him. “I… er… well… I believe the tea is almost done in the kitchen. If it would not be too much to ask… would you… I mean…” Logan’s throat constricted, as if his mind would not willingly allow him to ask Ali to carry him to the kitchen. Yet, with a thoughtful chuckle, Ali’s intuition filled in the gaps. She, too, seemed slightly hesitant.

“Are you sure?” she asked. Before Logan could propose a counter argument against going with Ali, he realized he responded.

“Yes, I am certain.” Ali nodded and laid her uninjured hand on the table. Logan fought his instincts and, which as much confidence as he could muster, stepped onto her palm. He had seen Roman and Remus and Hickory do this same thing dozens of times over the course of time, but he did not think he would be in this position ever again after everything that happened in the lab. Ali’s fingers remained slightly curled as she lifted and walked with a smooth precision which made drifting clouds appear unstable. Thomas, who had just finished brewing the tea, turned to see Ali walk into the kitchen with Logan standing firmly in her hand. The sight brought a partial smile to his face, but he refrained from commenting as he set the tea on the counter for them.

After they took a collective moment, Thomas looked to Ali who was sitting on the counter next to Logan.

“So, Ali, you didn’t say how you came across the family,” began Thomas. Ali nodded as she blew the ribbons of steam from the top of her teacup. Thomas’s prompt was clear, and Ali knew he would want to know the story in case it came into question later. Business and curiosity. Ali could respect both. With a pensive sigh, Ali told them what transpired once she left the Shelter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A helmet is a perfect sensory deprivation chamber. The thick padding on the inside offered security. The padding also blocked out unnecessary sounds, keeping the outside world muffled and distant. The dark interior and shaded visor guarded the eyes from light and external hindrances like bugs. It was protecting. It was comforting. Safe. Ali focused on the lack of feeling in her mind rather than her freezing, bloodied hands and the constricting, painful tightness forcing her to fight for every breath. The ache in her heart was familiar. It wasn’t something that she could touch or fix with a bandage from her kit. It was a draining ache, an indescribable emptiness consuming her in body and soul.

How could she say those things? Hickory, Ali’s so-called friend, used the precious secrets against her in front of a captive audience. Hickory had every reason to be angry, furious even. Ali was angry too; however, it did not justify what was said. At least, it didn’t justify it to Ali. Her disjointed thoughts whirled in her head and created emotional fragments of memory. No one thought stayed for more than a few seconds, but it was just long enough to drain her fight. That dark, sinister part of Ali began whispering doubts from within her solitude.

[Why do you put up with it? It isn’t your fault. What happened to Hickory wasn’t your fault. Why should you suffer for what your stepfather did? He’s the antagonist. He’s the reason Hickory’s family is gone. He’s the reason you mother is gone. Everything was better without him.] Ali felt warm tears soaking into the pads of her helmet and blurring her vision. She was sure snot was running over her lip. The misfortune of the situation was she accidentally confirmed it when she opened her mouth in a silent scream. She shouldn’t be riding her motorcycle. She knew she shouldn’t be riding. She was emotionally compromised and wasn’t even aware of where she had turned. A few lefts. A few rights. Red lights sprinkled throughout the ride. The voice of reason shattered through her mind and broke through the swirling, sinister voices enveloping her mind.

You need to stop.

Ali pulled off of the road and into a superstore parking lot, though she wasn’t sure which one. Frankly, she didn’t care. She turned the key to the off position. The engine growled beneath her as it settled into a short rest. Did she want to remove her helmet? Not really. Did she need to? Yes. She was sure she looked like a hot mess, but her appearance didn’t usually bother her in the first place. Her only apprehension was if someone random came up to her to check and see if she was alright. That was the last thing she could handle at the moment. She pealed her face from the now slightly sopping helmet. Had she really been crying that much? That same voice of reason pierced through her mind again. This time, saying something different.

You’re injured. You need to clean that injury. Those piercing wounds can be dangerous if the pin wasn’t clean.

Ali had almost forgotten due to the frigid cold wind rushing past and the freezing temperatures that her hand was now throbbing. The handle of her motorcycle glistened in the parking lot light. If her bike weren’t black, she would know instantly the glistening would be her drying scarlet blood. Thankfully, Ali always had some spare medical supplies on her bike in case Thomas or the others needed her on a rescue and someone needed medical attention. Ali flipped open the side satchel and fished out her supplies. Gauze, water, hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, pads, and her spare gloves. Ali meticulously poured the water onto her hand to wash off the drying blood, scraping some of it clean with the pads. She doused her hand with the peroxide. Small bubbles formed and sizzled against her skin, making her nerves twitch and sting. Ali wiped the area clean again before smothering the puncture wounds with Neosporin and wrapping her hand with the gauze. Now, becoming acutely aware of the cold, Ali shoved her hands into her spare gloves and placed the materials back into her bike satchel.

Ali could hear something chirping in her pocket and realized, after a moment, it was her phone. She had half a dozen missed text messages and at least three voice mails. The voice of reason did not win this time. The deep whispers encouraged her, and she obeyed. She turned off her phone. They continued to coax her.

[Why are you waiting out here in the cold? It’s not worth freezing to death over. You need to go inside somewhere. Anywhere. But don’t go into the store. You’ll be questioned for loitering. So… where’s somewhere you can go where you won’t be bothered and can warm yourself?] Ali involuntarily glanced across the street as if guided and spotted a dive bar. She couldn’t see the name and, frankly, she couldn’t care less. It would be warm. The potentially smokey environment and dim light would disguise her bloodshot eyes and disgusting facial orifices. Finally, after the day she had, the temptation of a drink was too much. Ali hopped back onto her motorcycle, forcing the wet sensation on her cheeks out of her head, and sped across the street to the bar.

The inside was a wreck. Sure, there were some nice neon signs, but not even that was a completely redeeming factor. The wooden panels on the ground seemed to be coated with some thick, tacky material which threatened to glue the patrons to the floor. The counters, tables, and booths were no better. Mysterious stains mixed with the polyurethane coating on the surfaces. A person’s elbow impressions were clearly visible on the counter at the bar where Ali elected to sit on the least torn pleather seat. The air was thick with body odor and booze. Surprisingly, no smell of smoke. A fair bet would be that this place was overdue for a health inspection. Music was playing from somewhere near the counter, but Ali couldn’t place the tune. The bartender, a greasy looking man who was slightly balding on top yet had a neck beard for days, stepped up to her. Ali ignored the fact a few of his teeth were blackening around the gums as he spoke.

“What can I getcha darlin’?” he asked. Ali felt something rise in the back of her throat at the smell of his breath.

“Do you make long island iced tea?” asked Ali, some part of her speaking which was beyond her control. The bartender grinned.

“Rough day?”

“Something like that,” Ali muttered. The bartender let out a long, knowing hum.

“I think I could pull something together like that for you. Just a sec.” He disappeared from Ali’s field of vision. The same voices, in her solitude, returned.

[What are you even doing at the Shelter? What are you trying to do with your life? Trying to make up for your mistakes? Trying to ease your demons into submission? Why try? I mean, you only work at the Shelter to help out Thomas and the others. That’s external gratification. You’re only seeking praise for doing something you think is noble. Right? Living for the praise of others? Do you even do anything for you? You became a paramedic because it’s what your dad would have wanted. You help at the Shelter because it’s what Thomas wanted. You volunteer your efforts because it is expected. You entered that pathetic relationship of yours because others thought you worked well together. You even got engaged because it’s what HE wanted. And now you’re alone. All alone. Lonely little Ali cat. What are you even doing?]

The bartender returned with her drink at some point and stood in front of her expectantly for his payment. Ali fumbled through her pockets and pulled out two crumpled fives and a few ones. If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure how many ones she fished out of her wrinkled back pocket. All she knew was the bartender seemed pleased and wandered away from her. Ali watched the condensation around the glass gather and glide down the side. What was she doing with her life? Ali reached for the glass when something stopped her. She wasn’t sure what it was. Instead of grasping the drink, Ali simply stared at her bandaged hand. Tiny specks and streaks of blood were leaking through the bandage. After agitating the area, Ali suspected it would happen. Yet, somehow, seeing the bandage on her hand brought back that small, inner voice of reason.

You are better than this.

Ali’s hand was just inches away from the glass. The difference between wallowing in misery and blissful, mental silence was right in front of her. A quick fix. A cure. She couldn’t do it. It frustrated her to no end. She could not bring herself to pick up the drink. The voice of reason broke through the calculated whispers again. For whatever reason, that little voice of reason sounded like Logan.

You do not need this to be happy. One drink will not solve your problems. It will make them worse, and you know it.

Ali balled her injured hand into a fist. She felt the bandages constricting her movements. She felt her nails through the gauze agitating the injuries just beneath the surface. She knew she couldn’t now. Within a few inches of her life, the voice of reason won. Ali pushed the drink away, leaving a trail of water and grime in its wake. She couldn’t help but smile as more warm tears trickled down her cheeks. As though pulled from the darkness, Ali’s pinpointed vision cleared. Her senses opened up.

Now, she began noticing things she hadn’t before. First and foremost, she looked like a hobo. A horribly mismatched hobo. From her puffy red eyes and slightly chapped nose to her holed sweater, stained tennis shoes, and second-hand coat, she could not have put off more pathetic vibes if she tried. It was all she had wither after her shift when she met up with Thomas and the team. Why didn’t they tell her she looked like a hot mess? The bartender most likely too pity on the way she looked and that’s why he didn’t card her; at least, that was the reason she gave. Next, she noticed she wasn’t the only one in the bar. There was a group of men in the corner booth causing a horrendous ruckus. Ali would have thought it was just the group being stupid and inconsiderate if her eyes didn’t catch the slight movement on the table. Ali felt herself tense, an involuntary hiss rising in her throat, as she realized what was going on.

The group was tormenting a borrower. From what little she could see, he was barely dressed and was being poked and prodded. Ali moaned. [Seriously? As if today weren’t bad enough! Now, the most random place I go to has these fracking morons doing this?] She had to do something. Thinking quickly and feeling wasteful, Ali grabbed her drink, poured a significant amount on the floor, and flagged down the bartender. She smiled widely and as charming as she was capable of given the circumstances.

“Yes? Ah, like the drink?” he grinned. Ali suppressed a shiver and nodded instead.

“It is very good. Best I’ve had in a while. Maybe ever,” said Ali as she forced a partial wink. She had been tipsy enough to know her believable behaviors. Through his beard, Ali could see him blush slightly. “You know what else I like?” Ali leaned forward, realizing only after that this trick was not as effective with a sweater.

“Sorry sweetheart! I’m a married man.” The bartender’s thunderous laugh rattled the drink in Ali’s hand. She played along with a giggle.

“Awww… of course,” she swayed slightly on the chair. “But, really, what I really like is that over there.” Ali leaned forward and pointed a finger toward the borrower who was trying to hind behind the bottles and glasses on the table. Ali watched as he slipped on the table, landing with a harsh yelp and subsequent wince. Ali wrestled with the urge to slap every person at the table as they laughed.

“Ah! Yeah, that’s one of them tinies. Found ‘em out and about on his own when I was changing my tire one morning. Can you believe it?”

“Really?” Ali gasped in fake disbelief. “Well. I think it’s just the most adorable thing.” The bartender, lured by Ali’s ruse, smiled, revealing even more blackening teeth.

“Wanna have a closer look?” he asked. Ali feigned shock and elation.

“Really?! You’d let me see closer?” she asked. In a fraction of a moment, the bartender walked over to the table, apologizing to the slightly intoxicated men, and seized the borrower. The group groaned in exaggerated disappointment as the bartender made his apologies. The group suddenly noticed Ali, sitting alone and on her own with a mostly empty drink. They quieted, many of them leaning back and nodding subtly. Ali pushed their reaction to her out of their head and the fact they quieted to watch her to focus solely on the struggling borrower in the bartender’s clenched fist.

“Hold out your hands,” instructed the bartender. Ali obliged and, in a second, a small, trembling form was dropped into her open palms. He pushed himself up onto his knees and was visibly shaking from head to toe. His shoulders were slumped and limp. From what Ali could tell, he was in his early teens. He was covered in bruises shaped perfectly like gripping fingers. He was grabbing at his wrist, most likely a result from his slip earlier. What really agitated Ali, however, was that the boy was dressed in a collar and very short shorts. There were tears on his smudged face as he looked up frightfully at Ali, his piercing blue eyes revealing how broken he felt. Ali felt herself wanting to shake. She wanted to sprint out with the boy now. Yet, she had to be patient.

“You need to get a bit of a tighter hold on him. He’s a quick one,” stated the bartender as he cupped his hands around Ali’s, encasing the boy further. The man’s hands were grimy and calloused. Ali could almost hear the boy’s whimper as her fingertips accidentally brushed against his back.

“Oh, okay okay,” Ali muttered mechanically. Determined, Ali smiled sweetly back at the bartender. “He is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Have you registered him yet? Does he have a name?” She knew her voice was louder than what the borrower would have liked, but she needed to play along. Just for a little while longer.

“Isn’t he? I’ve been calling him Squirt. Haven’t had the time or the funds to register him properly. Cost of keeping a license on them with the microchip and everything just doubled.” Ali felt a wave of relief rush over her. The kid wasn’t registered. This was her chance. Ali readjusted her hands to give the boy a little more room while keeping her hands open. She pretended to sway and giggled again. Hopefully the barkeep would think she was a lightweight and buy her tipsy charade.

“Well, you’re really lucky. Ever since the whole news came out about them, I’ve wanted one. My roommate, however,” Ali rolled her eyes. “She didn’t like it and wouldn’t let me get one. But! She just moved out.” Ali glanced up at the bartender with a flirtatious smile. “Just outa curiosity, how much would this little guy be?” The bartender laughed heartily.

“Aw, he’s not for sale. It’d break my heart to sell him.” Something in his voice pricked Ali’s mind. Something that sounded greedy. Ali stuck out her lower lip just enough to draw pity.

“No!” she whined. “Come on! How much? If you had to sell him right now, what would you take for him?” The bartender looked at Ali up and down hard for a moment, measuring her mentally. Based on her physical appearance and the crumpled bills she fished out of her pocket, she didn’t look like she had much spare pocket change. On the other hand, looks could be deceiving. The bartender seemed caught between leaning one way or the other.

“For you? If I could have cash, right here right now, I’d let him go for two grand even. No checks. No credit or debit. Cold, hard cash.” The guys who were listening in at the other table simultaneously exclaimed at the price. Ali felt her jaw drop, not at the outrageous price, but at the sheer pleasure of knowing she won. She shifted the child onto one hand and fished out her wallet. Before the bartender could blink, Ali removed the funds from her wallet and set the stack of bills onto the table. The room went silent.

“No… no… I… I wasn’t being serious,” the bartender tried to blurt out, but the table of men in the corner leapt up in a baffled exclamation as if they watched the winning touchdown in a championship tournament.

“No, you said that, for me, he was worth two grand cash. There’s your money. Count it out, and I’ll be on my way,” Ali stood and backed away from the counter, fearing she might actually get hit.

“You carry that much cash around with you?” he asked, still astounded and frustrated.

“I cashed my check today,” said Ali. The group, who watched the entire encounter, were rolling on the ground in laughter.

“No! You got played!” shouted the men in the corner. “You said it. Sorry man. You gave her a price and you got paid!” The bartender, scowling and fuming, angrily counted the stack of money. He glared at Ali before pointing at the door.

“Get out,” he growled. Ali, with a mischievous grin, nodded and headed out of the bar in a relative haste. She hadn’t realized until she stepped out in the cold and exhaled that she was holding her breath during her final exchange with the bar’s owner. She made a mental note to report them to the health department before turning her attention to the borrower tucked in her palm. Ali walked to her bike and sat down, opening her palm to look at the boy again. He was shivering uncontrollably.

“I’m really sorry about all of that,” said Ali, her voice returning to its soft, signature timbre. She stared into the child’s eyes for a moment. “I know you’re terrified of me and everything that’s happened, but you’re going to be okay.”

“P… pl… please d… don’t h… hurt me.” The boy’s voice was so quiet, Ali almost missed what he said. His voice was shaking so hard, both from the cold and fear. Ali, not knowing what else to do, pulled out her glove from her pocket and spread out the opening like a sleeping bag. The boy’s eyes widened in terror as he tried to back away, but instead bumped into Ali’s slightly curled fingers. Ali sighed. They were just gloves, but the thought of being confined was probably the last thing the kid wanted.

“I promise, you’re going to be okay. I know you’re scared and cold and have no reason to trust me; however, right now, you need to stay warm.” Ali sighed, knowing that reasoning with the child was not as effective as she anticipated. “Look. Let’s start over. My name is Ali. What’s your name?” The boy sniffed and curled in on himself. He seemed locked in an internal debate. He was obviously uncomfortable with questions, but this seemed to be the first time someone asked his name.

��N… no. Y… you’ll jus… just hurt me if I t… tell you. I’m n… not supposed to… to talk to humans,” he stammered. Ali allowed herself to smile slightly as to not scare the poor boy.

“I know, and I promise you that I’m here to help you. You’re not with that scary bartender anymore, right?” Ali’s statement wasn’t false. The boy, seeming both defeated and slightly convinced by that statement, looked away as he curled his knees to his chest.

“M… my name is F…Fjord,” he stuttered.

“Fjord?” repeated Ali. Fjord nodded timidly. “It’s nice to meet you.” Ali smiled encouragingly, which seemed to calm the boy’s tears. Another gust of frigid wind ripped through Ali and Fjord. His body seized as he violently shuddered.

“Fjord? I know you’re really scared right now and the last thing you want to do is trust a human. Goodness knows we haven’t earned your trust. This cold is not good for you. This glove is warm and fuzzy and not very tight. Sadly, this is all I have, unless you’d rather stay in a pocket.” Fjord sniffled and shrank in on himself. Given the two options, it was clear he was leaning for the promise of the warm, fuzzy glove. He pointed to the glove and reluctantly scooted to the edge of Ali’s palm as she held it open. He shuddered again and slipped in. Both Ali and Fjord made sure his head was above the hem so he could breath uninhibited. His shivering lessened significantly, but not completely.

Ali glanced around, now wondering where she was and how she was going to get home. Luckily, after a moment, she realized where she was and where she wanted to go next. She looked back to Fjord, who was already falling limp with exhaustion with every second that passed. The warmth of the glove seemed to be soothing him. She wanted to get him home, but something tugged at her. Something knew what she needed to do before heading back. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to go and see him, her father, tonight.

“Fjord?” she said softly. His eyes shot open and snapped up to her, startled at the sudden address of his name. Ali’s nurturing instincts kicked into gear. “You’re okay. Everything is fine. We need to be heading back home, okay? I have to make a quick stop and then we’ll get out of this cold.” Fjord seemed pleased to be out of the cold but fidgeted uncomfortably at the thought of being taken to yet another strange place with a human. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but refrained out of fear.

“Before we leave, do you know if there are any other borrowers in the bar here?” asked Ali. Fjord looked up at her, surprised and slightly alarmed.

“H… how do you know what I am? H… humans j… just call us tinies,” asked Fjord. Ali smiled gently.

“I live at a Shelter for mistreated borrowers in bad places. We rescue them and then they get to live in the Shelter, like how things used to be before we knew you existed,” explained Ali. To be fair, she knew what she said sounded unbelievable, especially to the mind of a child. However, a gleam of hope sparked somewhere in Fjord’s broken eyes. “So, do you know if any other borrowers live in the bar?” Fjord thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“I d… don’t think so,” he replied. Ali nodded.

“Okay. We’re going to leave now. I do have to put you in my coat here, and it’s going to be a little loud. The coat and glove should help muffle the sounds though. Don’t worry, it’s not for too long. Okay?” Fjord did not like the idea of being placed in Ali’s inside coat pocket in a glove with loud noises, but he nodded reluctantly as he could think of no alternative. Ali thanked the heavens her motorcycle was not very loud and electric. She shifted the glove from being cupped in both hands and tucked it by her collar so Fjord could see just above the zipper while still being able to burrow further for protection. She started her motorcycle and placed the helmet on her head. Nice and quick. Starting slow, Ali merged and sped up on the road toward the place she knew she needed to go – the cemetery.

__________~~~__________

Large, fluffy snowflakes drifted through the air like elegant pieces of lace. Ali dismounted her bike and gazed at the scene before her. There were very few lights illuminating the field, but the ones which were there looked like halos with the snow swirling around them. At night, the vast field of gravestones was devoid of color. The white stones mixed with the silhouettes of the trees and falling snow, creating a somber, monochrome scene. The stones themselves stood resolute, as if they were Soldiers themselves. It had been a while since Ali had been back, and yet it felt as though not a day had gone by.

As she walked past the stones, her footsteps imprinting in the snow with a soft crunch, something felt stronger, like she was gaining back a piece of herself with every step. Ali felt a slight shift by her collar. It must’ve been Fjord readjusting. He hadn’t said anything after the ride, even when Ali asked if he was alright after the ride. On the upside, it didn’t feel like he was trembling anymore.

She stopped instinctually among the field of fallen Soldiers. Without even glancing at the names, she knew she arrived. Her father’s name, etched in black, was slightly filled with the snow. Ali knelt faithfully and began dusting the snow away as if she were carefully picking lint from her father’s best dinner jacket. The cold snow melted against Ali’s pants and began to soak them, but Ali didn’t care. She was focused on maintaining eye contact with the stone. Her heart ached at the sight. For someone so warm and giving, fun and full of life, this simple pillar did not do him justice. Still, Ali knew her father would have respected the order and tidiness of it all. He never did like the way Ali’s toys were strewn throughout the house, especially the pointed building blocks. Ali calmed her breathing, noticing how it paused twice in her chest, before speaking softly as to not disturb her tagalong.

“Hi dad… it’s me, you’re little Ali cat, come back to Wonderland.” She suspected she would be choked up, but it came sooner than she thought, and she had barely begun. She watched her breath escape her body in a thick, foggy cloud. “I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner. I know I promised to be back soon. Things happen I guess.” A feeling crept up into the back of Ali’s throat. It wasn’t sickness or nervousness. It was an anxious tense which made her jaw ache and left a metallic taste on her tongue.

“Mom died today…” Ali’s voice hitched. It was only the second time she said it aloud. “I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but our last talk wasn’t exactly the fuzzy, happy-feel-good kind. I have to get some things in order and call a bunch of people. I should feel furious but all I can do is… well, I just… I hope… she’s happy now. I hope she’s with you and that… she’s…” Ali forced her mind to put together the phrases. “I hope she’s the way you remember her. I guess, in that sense, she’s been gone a long time.” Ali gazed at the glistening stone.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing with my life…” The familiar tightness enveloped the top of her lungs. “I know I have my struggles and I’m certainly in no position to complain. It’s just… am I doing what I do because others want me to? Or am I doing them because that’s what I want… if that even makes sense.” Ali glanced at her bandaged hand. The spots and streaks of blood had not grown larger, thankfully.

“Do I help save people because it’s what I want? Or because you saw some kind of good in me? Am I helping the borrowers out of guilt for what that piece of… because of what he did? Am I atoning for what I did wrong?” Ali signed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her bandaged hand.

“It doesn’t help that I was yelled at by my friend, Hickory. I told you about her. She said a lot of things to me. Hurtful things. I… I know why she said it, all of the reasons actually. I took it, for what it’s worth, but I walked away. Does that make me a coward? Or does that make me the bigger person, no pun about her being so much shorter than me.” Ali found herself chuckling, knowing her father would be the person to point out that humans are obviously the “bigger person.” Even without him being there, his dad jokes were making her laugh.

Once the moment passed, Ali just stared back at her father’s etched name. “I just… I just wish I knew. You know? Like a sign? Something that makes me feel like I’m on the right path. I wish I knew that what I do is for me because it’s what I want, not what’s expected of me.” Ali listened to the snowfall. She pretended the snowflakes were shooting stars as she cast her wishes onto them. It didn’t work, but she didn’t expect it to. Somehow, staring at the stiff, cold letters of her father’s name made her feel better. She couldn’t explain why, but it was reassuring at any rate.  

“Well, it’s getting late. I’m trying to outlast the moon as you’d say… I miss you dad. I miss you so much. I hope you’re watching out for me. I love you dad.” Ali stood and touched the frosty stone with the tips of her fingers before turning and walking back toward her ride. Ali shoved her hands into her pockets in an attempt to warm them. She only had the one glove remaining, but she wasn’t mad about it. She paused as she felt another shift by her collar. It felt like a stretch. Ali felt herself grin. Even if it was out of exhaustion and not relative trust, Fjord was getting some rest.

Ali’s motorcycle was just in sight when she noticed a car which had not been there when she arrived. What little warmth residing in her cheeks drained as she recognized the vehicle type. It was a Tiny Patrol vehicle, the group sent to capture borrowers. Ali glanced around frantically. Had the bartender called them to search for her? What were they doing out at this hour? If they were here, did that mean there were more borrowers nearby? Whatever the case, Ali readied herself.

She moved cautiously around the side of the truck and spotted one human instantly. He had a flashlight and was shining it along the rows and rows of gravestones. His eyes were fixed on the ground while the flashlight beam scanned back and forth meticulously. Ali couldn’t help but release a slight sigh of relief. He wasn’t looking for her. Based on what she could see in the truck through the opened back door, there were no borrowers inside either. It was becoming rarer to find borrowers living independently nowadays, but it was not impossible.

It was out of the corner of her eye, but several small shadows sprinted in the open, across the road, and headed for the gravestones on the opposite side. The flashlight, however, just glanced over their heads. In a panic, the shadows ran to Ali’s motorcycle and hid behind her front tire. The human started to approach their hiding place. Ali felt another small shift by her collar. She needed to act, and fast. The Tiny Patrol member hadn’t noticed her. Now was her moment. Ali stepped out from behind the car and approached briskly. She knew the borrowers would be panicking. She would be too if she were cornered by two creatures so much bigger and stronger than herself. When she was a little more than a few meters away, she knelt and pretended to tie her shoe. She could now see the huddled mass of three, possibly four, borrowers. She made eye contact and quickly held her finger to her lips in a silent shushing motion.

“He can’t see you. If you stay quiet, he won’t notice you. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m going to take a couple steps closer. Just stay still and I’ll get him to leave,” said Ali hurriedly. She didn’t know what else to say to the frightened individuals who were terrified, cold, and being hunted down. Thankfully, they didn’t move. Ali wasn’t sure if it was because they were exhausted or if they had given into their suspected fate. The Tiny Patrol member approached just as she stood and stepped forward.

“Can I help you?” asked Ali. The sound of her voice startled the young man, who quickly shined the flashlight in her eyes before gasping and turning it off. She felt a quick shift near her collar and prayed Fjord would stay quiet and still as well as forgive her for using a much louder volume than when she spoke with him.

“Uh… no, ma’am. Sorry about that. I was… er… just investigating the surroundings. I didn’t mean to… uh… get so close to your bike. A call came in a few hours ago about a possible tiny sighting, but I haven’t seen anything yet,” said the man. He sounded like a polite enough person, but he was still tracking down borrowers. Ali furrowed her brows.

“Tinies? Out here on a night like this?” asked Ali. The man nodded.

“I thought I saw something, but I can’t be sure. I’ve only been working this job for a month, so I don’t know all of the ‘signs’ or whatever.” His laughter indicated a nervous and relatively playful tone, but all Ali wanted to do was slap him and send him home to think about what he had done. Ali feigned thinking for a moment before pointing further into the cemetery.

“You know, now that you mention it, I might’ve seen something over where I just was, right over there.” Ali pointed to a distant tree on one of the sloping hills. “I can’t be certain. I’ve… been a little out of it today. Maybe that’s what I saw?” The young man glanced at the tree, stomped his foot in frustration, and readjusted his winter cap.

“Well, it’s better than nothing. If I’m not thorough, my boss will hang me out to dry. Thanks for the tip. If you’ll excuse me, have a good night.” The young man walked briskly past Ali without a second glance and began jogging to the tree. Ali ensured he was just out of earshot when she returned her attention to the huddled borrowers by her tire. She lowered herself to her knees, trying to appear as unintimidating as possible.

“He’s gone for now, but he’ll be back,” she said in her signature, honeyed tone. She watched one silhouette remove what looked like a pin from their side.

“You got rid of him, yes,” said a male voice. His voice seemed deeper yet lacked the intimidation and wisdom of someone older. “All for what? Now you have us to yourself? I don’t think so!” The other three whimpered and hugged tightly to one another. Ali sighed. She wished there was some sort of code word which would signify her allegiance, but things like that only existed in stories.

“You’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you, or separate you, or send you away. I suppose you could leave if you really want to,” Ali meant the last comment to be to herself, but this statement seemed to catch the group’s ears. “But, please, hear me out.”

“Why should we?” demanded the same masculine voice.

“Because I work at a Shelter where human laws don’t apply. Have you heard of the Tiny Shelter per chance?” Ali only heard silence. “The Shelter is a borrower rescue initiative. We go out and rescue borrowers in bad places and keep them from going to places like laboratories or separated and kept as pets.” Ali heard hushed whispers and quick exchanges.

“No,” said the same voice. “It’s a trick. It has to be.”

“It’s not a trick,” pleaded Ali. She glanced over her shoulder. The worker was almost at the tree in the distance. “I know how crazy this must sound to you. Really. You have no reason to trust me and I understand that. But isn’t it worth the chance? Stay here to maybe get caught and separated or stay together in a place you’ll be respected and protected from the humans?” Ali stared at the shapes desperately.

“Y… you won’t separate us?” called a slightly older, more mature sounding female voice.

“Mother,” the first voice hissed.

“Storm!” the female voice scolded. “What makes you so sure that you and this Shelter can keep us safe?” Ali let out a half-sigh of relief.

“We’ve done it for just over a year now. We’ve been working with our team to reverse a lot of laws. We’ve rescued over fifty borrowers in the past two months and…”

“And then what? Once you have them in your Shelter, what do you do to them?” demanded the one called Storm.

“Nothing,” urged Ali. She knew her time was going to run short any moment. “You go on living your lives as though humans never discovered your existence.” There was a brief silence.

“I don’t like it,” hissed Storm, just loud enough for Ali to hear.

“Storm, we cannot keep running like this. After your father… and your brother…” the woman’s voice faltered. “What matters is keeping our family together. Winter is here and, if we’re being honest, we will continue to freeze on the run. At least, in our home, we had shelter and safety. We’re out in the open.”

“So, we give up?” demanded Storm. “No! That’s not what dad or Fjord would have wanted!” Ali’s jaw dropped as she felt another shift against her collar.

“I’m sorry,” she interjected, making the borrowers flinch. “Did you say your brother’s name is Fjord?”

“What do you care human?” spat Storm.

“Mom?” Ali heard a small voice slightly muffled by her jacket. “Is… is that… Mom!” The group watched as Ali unzipped part of her coat and removed a glove with the utmost care. She laid the glove onto the ground. Instantly, the mother cried out, a mixture of pure elation and mortified realization. She scurried forward before Storm could stop her and collapsed to her knees as Fjord wriggled free from the warmth of the glove into his mother’s arms.

“FJORD!” two smaller, younger voices cried out and rushed past Storm, who approached while keeping a careful eye on Ali. Ali couldn’t quite make out what was being said, except to say that the reunion would melt even the coldest of hearts.

“What did you do to him?” asked Storm once the sobs of joy quieted.

“I found him in a dive bar down the road. I was bringing him to the Shelter when I felt like I needed to stop here,” replied Ali. The hairs raised on the back of her neck. She glanced over and watched the flashlight approaching, much more rapidly than she wanted. Ali looked back into Storm’s eyes.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. Not really. The guy is coming back right now. You can stay and take your chances or come with me to the Shelter. There’s warm clothing, food, and a place for you to live together as a family. That’s more important now than anything now.” Ali’s eyes locked with the mother’s eyes, then Fjord’s eyes. The two youngest still had their faces buried in their mother’s shoulders.

“We’ll go to the Shelter,” announced the mother. Ali remembered, only now, she had an extra carrying bag in the compartment under her seat. It would be comfortable, and the family wouldn’t be separated. It was difficult to ignore how the family flinched as she reached over their heads and retrieved the bag. Still, it was the right thing to do. Ali unzippered the bag. With much reluctance, the family entered, Storm entering last.

“If anything happens to them, I swear this pin is the last thing you will see,” growled Storm. Ali nodded.

“Understood. Here,” she took the glove and pulled at the seams. It was hardly a fight. The glove came apart, revealing the soft interior. She pushed the glove closer. “You can use it as a blanket until we get back.” Storm nodded curtly as he dragged the glove inside. Ali had barely enough time to clear out her side satchel and place the bag into it gently when the worker returned. With a quick nod, she started her engine and sped off into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ali realized how her story sounded. Absolutely fabricated. Crazy. Too coincidental. To these mental comments, she could only muster a soft chuckle. It was the kind of story her father would tell. It had suspense, a touch of heartache, and a happy ending. Her father would say, “There are no such things as coincidences,” followed by his broad, thoughtful smile making the sides of his eyes wrinkle. As Ali sat on the counter, feeling the warmth of the mug in her hands, she felt a secondary warmth igniting in her frozen heart. She couldn’t help but feel like she had her answer, in whatever weird way or another. Ali just so happened to find the brother of a borrower family in a dive bar after visiting her father’s grave. It all aligned too perfectly; or did it? Maybe, just maybe, that’s what was supposed to happen. Maybe, just maybe, that was her sign.

`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

[ba-mi-soro-orisha]

What books are on your nightstand?

“All the Stars and Teeth,” by Adalyn Grace; “Ninth House,” by Leigh Bardugo; “The Last Arrow,” by Erwin Raphael McManus. I always have an itch for great fantasy, which Grace and Bardugo provide. And I’m always interested in self-development and books that feed my soul like “The Last Arrow.”

What’s the last great book you read?

“Daring Greatly,” by Brené Brown! I was really moved by her Netflix special, and listening to her audiobook came at the perfect time in my life. She has a way of perfectly describing some of the most intimate human emotions and experiences, and she provides concrete, actionable solutions. She gave me a new level of self-awareness that’s helped me navigate my life in a meaningful way, so I’m a big fan.

Are there any classic novels that you only recently read for the first time?

Recently, no. The vast majority of American classics were ruined for me because schools made me read them too young. If I remember correctly, I think I had to read “Self-Reliance,” by Ralph Waldo Emerson, in seventh grade. I remember reading “Death of a Salesman” in high school and hating it, but when I read it in college I loved it. I was blown away by what Arthur Miller had created. Because of that, I’m saving my reread of the classics for a time when life isn’t too crazy and I can focus. I want to make sure if I don’t like what society has deemed a classic story, it’s because I don’t like the actual story, and not because I didn’t understand it when I was 12.

Describe your ideal reading experience (when, where, what, how).

My ideal reading experience is on the beach, under an umbrella, with my Kindle, and with a tasty drink and snack by my side.

What’s your favorite book no one else has heard of?

I don’t think I have one? I’m a pretty basic person. I’m not even cool enough to like niche anime. Everything I gravitate to is pretty well known because they are such amazing stories.

If I had to pick one, I’d say most of my younger readers probably aren’t familiar with “The Souls of Black Folk,” by W. E. B. DuBois, and most of my older readers probably aren’t familiar with “Six of Crows,” by Leigh Bardugo.

What book should everybody read before the age of 21?

“The Poet X,” by Elizabeth Acevedo. It’s a stunning story told in verse about a young Dominican poet learning to use her voice and take up space. I think as we grow up and start to discover who we are, we also have to discover what we want to say. Then we have to get comfortable saying it. I think this is the kind of story that makes you feel strong when you’re reading it, and then you can lean on that strength when you need to use your voice and take up space in your real life.

Which writers — novelists, playwrights, critics, journalists, poets — working today do you admire most?

For novelists, I’m a forever-fan of Sabaa Tahir. Her debut fantasy — “An Ember in the Ashes” — was the epic tale that inspired me to write “Children of Blood and Bone.” It moved me in ways a story hadn’t moved me before and gave me a chance to imagine a fantasy world with characters I’d never gotten to see before.

For journalists, Shaun King. The work Shaun does for the black community is incredible. I respect his strength, tenacity and passion, and I admire him deeply for the commitment to getting our stories out.

For critics, I think YouTubers like Cosmonaut Variety Hour and Alex Meyers? I get a lot of entertainment from their television and movie reviews, and also get refreshers on good storytelling.

What writers are especially good on adolescent life?

Angie Thomas, Nic Stone and Jason Reynolds!

How do you distinguish Y.A. books from adult fiction?

Honestly, the main difference to me is how quickly I’m captured and transported into the story. I find the best young adult novels have all the best parts of adult fiction — the extensive world-building, the complex characters, the beautiful prose — layered over a fast-paced, exciting plot. Most of the adult fiction I read takes its time building to the climax.

Which young adult books would you recommend to people who don’t usually read Y.A.?

I always recommend “An Ember in the Ashes” and “Six of Crows” after one of my readers has finished “Children of Blood and Bone.” I find those three fantasies crossover really well and help hook people into reading other young adult books.

What’s the most interesting thing you learned from a book recently?

That you’re not supposed to fight your anxiety, you’re supposed to fight the things that are causing your anxiety by setting better boundaries for yourself and for others. That’s one of the golden nuggets in “Daring Greatly.”

Which genres do you especially enjoy reading? And which do you avoid?

I love a good romance! I’m always game for young adult fantasy and sci-fi. I want to read more adult books, contemporary books and poetry. And sadly, I avoid nonfiction. When I read, I like to go somewhere else in my mind with stories that touch our real world without taking place in it.

What makes for a good fantasy novel?

I think the most magical fantasies will always be the ones with a world you want to live in forever. For example, I think we loved Harry Potter, but we were in love with Hogwarts. We all wanted to go to class with him. We all wanted our own wands. I think great worlds are important because they allow readers to play in that world with their imagination long after the book is done, but a great world isn’t complete without a great protagonist.

What moves you most in a work of literature?

Acts of love. Be it familial, friendly or romantic. A beautifully described, tender act of love destroys me.

How do you organize your books?

ORIGINAL STORIES: I have a lot of the stories I wrote when I was young on my Kindle — they are hilarious and incredible and always funny to read.

BOOKS ON WRITING: I always want to be a better writer/storyteller than I am now. I love books and YouTube videos that break down the art of story.

FICTION: Most of my library is Y.A., so this is where my “I’m an adult” fiction goes.

SCI-FI: Though I’m a child of fantasy, my interest in the stars and spaceships is growing.

FANTASY: Includes all the great franchises of the past and all the exciting, diverse stories that are being published today.

Who is your favorite fictional hero or heroine? Your favorite antihero or villain?

Antiheroes: Zuko, from “Avatar: The Last Airbender”; Logan, from “X-Men”; Kaz Brekker, from “Six of Crows.” Villains: Light Yagami, from “Death Note,” and Magneto, from “X-Men.” I guess my Slytherin is showing, because I love my antiheroes and my villains more than my heroes.

What kind of reader were you as a child? Which childhood books and authors stick with you most?

I was a voracious reader when I was young. I lived for the summer reading challenges where I could read 50 books and get like three Airheads at the end of August. The authors and books that worked themselves into my heart were Mary Pope Osborne and her Magic Tree House series, J. K. Rowling and Harry Potter, Masashi Kishimoto and “Naruto.” I consider myself a creative child of fantasy and anime.

How have your reading tastes changed over time?

My Kindle is loaded up with several of the stories I wrote as a girl and as a teenager. It’s wild reading them now because I vaguely remember the nights and weekends I stayed up writing these tales, and I see the plots and character types that I’ve loved reading about and imagining since I was young.

I’ve always loved sweeping romances and magical fantasies. I’ve loved headstrong, determined female protagonists and epic battles. I still like to read the same things. I think the difference now is that I get to read all the things I like with characters who look like me. My childhood stories didn’t give me that. Even in the stories I wrote myself, I was only writing white characters and biracial characters. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that erasure was painful and damaging to my sense of self. So getting to create and read stories that fight that erasure and build on my sense of self is the only significant change in my reading tastes.

You’re organizing a literary dinner party. Which three writers, dead or alive, do you invite?

Oprah Winfrey, Octavia E. Butler and Toni Morrison. I would be extremely uncomfortable in the midst of all that greatness, and I probably wouldn’t speak. But while stuffing my face with little lobster rolls, I would get to learn from and be inspired by those three incredible women.

Whom would you want to write your life story?

Honestly, me, because I’m a perfectionist. But I don’t think I’m the best person to write my story because while I have a unique take on my story, I also lack a lot of necessary perspectives that would be needed to write an accurate life story. I’m going to cheat this one and say I would like Shonda Rhimes to do a highly dramatized mini-series of my life story.

What do you plan to read next?

“Blood Heir,” by Amélie Wen Zhao. I’ve heard really great things. I’m excited to check it out!