#could hardly contain any laughter and i was in the middle of eating at my dorms caf 😭😭 people were looking at ME

[radioroxx]

oh if anyone cares btw. a bunch of makesweet bauzo images i put together

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

The Evening Emerald

Word Count:  11,662

Content warnings: mentions of child abuse, abuse (both physical and mental), death threats, talks of death, alcohol mention,

Virgil reached his arm out to hook his middle finger around a brush and dragged it over, not wanting to drop any of the sections of hair he’d been holding. His step-sister snapped at him when he pulled slightly to grab the brush properly. He murmured an apology as he brushed a section out before carefully braiding it into another section. In another half hour, the elaborate hairstyle was finished.

In yet another half hour, his step-family was off to yet another party they hadn’t bothered trying to bring him to. He knew not many of those they kept company with even knew he existed. Sighing, he cleaned up the workstation and started on washing the dishes. It gave him something to do while his thoughts churned.

He wanted to get away from this household. His father had owned this house and land before he’d passed and, as his child, Virgil had inherited it. His step-father, married to his father shortly before the dear man’s demise, ran the house with an iron fist instead. Virgil was under his thumb and, having been beaten any time he tried to take command or even have the slightest bit of autonomy, he knew he wouldn’t be able to take it by force.

He moved on to scrubbing the counters and sweeping the floors as he thought. The only way he could get the land back is if he saved enough money to buy it or if he married someone rich. He couldn’t see either situation working as his step-father had hidden him away from society for so long that it had forgotten of his existence and he was never able to earn anything. Even so, he’d filched the odd coin or so from the maids or passing milk man enough that he had a sizable coin purse squirreled away.

Just as he was finishing his chores for the night, a knock sounded at the front door. Virgil waved a maid away, telling her to go on to bed, and answered it himself. The pouring rain met him, as did an elderly woman. “Please, young man, could you spare a crust of bread? Perhaps a small cup of water? I don’t want to be too much of a bother.” She shivered in the night air and her soaked clothing.

Virgil smiled, gently guiding her inside. “It’s cold out there, madam. Cold and wet. The master of the house won’t be home for another hour or so. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you drying off by the kitchen fire and having some of the leftover soup. It was going to be thrown out in the morning for the dogs anyway. Seems it could do you more good than it can the dogs.”

“You’re too kind.” She said, gratefully taking his aide.

He only released her once they’d arrived in the kitchen. Settling her in a chair, he stoked the flames and went to grab the soup. He put it on the hearth to warm up again, sitting to talk with her in the meantime. She ate the soup and smiled kindly at Virgil, thanking him for his hospitality. Just as she was about to leave, Virgil heard the carriage pull up to the door.

Quickly, he ushered the elderly woman to the back door and gave her hurriedly whispered directions back to the main road. Then, he had to almost run through the house to get to the front hall just as his step-family walked inside. They didn’t seem suspect at all and wished to go straight to bed. Virgil checked the back door once they were upstairs and, finding the old woman had left, redid all the kitchen chores.

It was close to dawn by the time he finished, prompting him to simply lay down by the dying fire for warmth and a quick cat nap. When the sun rose, he would have to get up and start his morning chores but for now he slept.

~~~~~~

A maid’s foot ramming into his side woke him. She gave him a whispered apology and an explanation that he was late in his duties and she had been scolded into doing it. Virgil took over, rushing to get everything ready before his step-family got too angry. He carefully balanced all three trays on his arms, one held in the crook of his elbow and the other two in his hands.

He gently set one down on a hall table to free his hand so he could open his step-brother’s door. The man groaned and rolled away from the light. Virgil set the tray from the crook of his arm on his bedside table before moving to throw the curtains open, still balancing a tray. His step-brother groaned again but sat up and threw a pillow at him.

Virgil expertly dodged it and moved to the door, closing it and picking up the tray from the hallway. He moved on to his step-sister’s room and did the same routine, not even getting a pillow lodged at him for his efforts.

Finally, he approached the bedroom at the end of the hall. When his father had still been alive, that door had always stayed open and Virgil had been allowed to come and go as he pleased. Laughter had always echoed from there when his mother had been alive, still there to some extent after her passing but not the same. Now that his step-father lived there, the door was always closed and laughter was rarely heard.

Virgil carefully opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. his step-father was already sitting up in bed when he entered, glaring daggers at him. “I don’t appreciate being kept waiting so long for my breakfast.”

Virgil dipped his head as he placed the tray over the man’s lap, moving to open the curtains. “My apologies, sir.” He knew better than to offer an explanation, preferring not to have the milk container thrown at the back of his head again.

When he stepped back from the curtains, his step-father spoke once more. “There is a list of chores I expect to have completed before you go to bed tonight on my side table.”

Virgil again bowed his head, coming close enough to retrieve the list before he departed, closing the door behind him. He didn’t look at the list until he had made it back to the kitchen. “Scrub the dining hall floors, sweep the front steps, clean out the root cellar, polish the mirrors, clean the windows, polish the silver, tidy the rooms, dust the guest rooms, who even uses the guest rooms?!” His voice rose in indignation.

The cook snickered as she pulled rolls from the oven. “I don’t know, sir, but breakfast should be done in a few minutes.”

Virgil smiled, his anger dissipating. He moved over and kissed her on her plump cheek. “Thank you kindly, Mandy, but it seems I have too many chores to stop for food. I’ll have to charm you out of a slightly larger lunch than usual.”

She swatted at him as he made his escape. “You be sure to eat lunch, young master!”

Virgil raised a hand in acknowledgment before going out to the yard. Looking over his list again, he noted some of the more laborious tasks even as he started his morning chores. The morning was slow as he worked his way through the chores and the list, especially as his step-family continued to add to it throughout the day.

When noon came around, Virgil was flagged down by Mandy and sat on a stool, forbidden from getting up until he’d finished what she’d given him. He was starting his list again at the stairs, sweeping them and the courtyard, when a messenger came in.

“Letters for the household.” She said gruffly.

Virgil nodded, holding his hand out. “I’ll take them in, thank you.”

He flipped through them, finding some from various lords or ladies around the kingdom, most likely asking for someone’s hand in marriage, but paused when he came to the royal seal. Hurriedly, he took the mail to his step-father, shuffling it to put the royal message with the red seal on top and brought them in.

Virgil’s step-father gathered his two children around him, Virgil standing in the corner where he usually was, before opening the invitation and reading it aloud. “A decree from the desk of the king: A masquerade ball will be held on three consecutive nights in honor of our Prince Patton’s engagement to our neighbor’s Prince Remus. Everyone of marriageable age from every household is invited to attend. The first ball starts at eight o’clock tonight.”

Virgil watched his step-family jump for joy, his step-sister rushing to find an outfit to wear while his step-father and step-brother shared a scheming look. Virgil felt a buzz in his own emotions as he thought he might be able to sneak out and attend at least the first one. The other two nights were a prime time for him to sneak away. His funds were low but not so low that it was impossible. He didn’t dare ask if he could attend as he didn’t want to have more chores piled on nor to be locked in his room as he knew his step-father wasn’t above doing something like that to keep him at home.

After he exited the drawing room, he paused and overheard their conversation. “We must do it tonight, it’s the only logical time to do it.” his step-father said.

“Yes,” his step-brother responded, “tonight is the perfect opportunity. And, if we don’t get the opening we need, we’ll just use the other two nights as back up.”

“By the end of the week, Prince Logan Aeron will be dead.” A sinister chuckle followed his step-father’s proclamation.

Virgil’s hand flew to his mouth, stifling a gasp. They were plotting high treason!

Instead of reentering the room, he sped up his chores while still doing them with barely a flaw. He slowed down just enough to look busy when his family left before rushing to his attic chamber. He had managed to hide one of his father’s old suits in his closet and carefully pulled it out. Red wasn’t really his color and he had no mask to go with it but it was better than nothing. Come sleet or high water, he was going to warn the prince of the assassination attempt!

He rushed down the stairs and, wearing his best shoes, he exited out the back door. Just as he was exiting the yard, the old woman from the night before rounded the corner and smiled at him. Waving her hand, she transformed from a bent old woman in rags to an old woman with a wand and flowing robes. “Hello, child.” She said.

Virgil wanted to tell her that he was hardly a child but he couldn’t find the words.

“I was touched by your consideration and generosity last night so I’ve come back to bestow a wish upon you. Please, tell me what you desire most.”

Virgil found his voice. “I want to go to the ball. Just once, I want to enjoy life.” He needed to warn the prince but that wasn’t a want. After all, the fewer people who knew about this the better.

She smiled, waving her wand. “Then so it shall be.”

Butterflies flew from the nearby garden to circle around Virgil, lifting him off the ground slightly. When they set him down, his whole attire had changed*. He’d been given a delicate purple mask that hid the upper half of his face but left space for his eyes, a deep purple dress with butterflies decorating the bottom and becoming more scarce until they stopped at the waist, purple gloves that matched the dress and had the same lace pattern as the ends as the mask, and crystal shoes that loosely resembled ballerina slippers with ribbons that wound up his calves and stopped just short of his knees. He twirled, feeling light as a feather and just as gorgeous.

“Thank you! Is there anything I must know?”

“This only lasts until midnight, it will revert back to your former clothing at that point. However, it will last all three nights if you so choose to return then, a different outfit each time.” She winked. “For variety.”

That deal was too good to pass up. Virgil agreed and was given a carriage to ride in to the castle. He arrived just as the clock struck half past eight, entering the ballroom shortly after. He was met with a wall of noise and color as people swirled on the dance floor, some standing off to the side talking, others holding plates and glasses from the refreshments table. Virgil moved forward and started mingling with the other guests, doing a good job at staying away from his step-family but keeping them in sight.

He watched the dancing for a moment, remembering his own dancing lessons and memorizing the way the dancers moved as he was a bit out of date. Still, it was a nice change to be able to be served instead of being the one to serve.

He found an unoccupied corner of the room and sequestered himself there, enjoying just watching the proceedings. He was a silent pair of eyes connected to a memory bank, trying to soak up everything he could and remember as much as possible. He watched people roam around, accidentally catching the eye of a stranger.

The man was dressed in a dark blue suit that accentuated how tall he was. His hair was styled carefully back with a few strands falling onto his forehead. His mask was a dark green that set off his suit perfectly. He turned and, waving off the people flocking around him, came toward Virgil. Once he was there, he bowed at the neck and held a hand out, making eye contact. “May I have this dance?”

Virgil smiled, taking the offered hand and allowing himself to be led onto the dance floor. “Of course.”

The masked stranger bowed as the dance began. “What shall I call you?”

Virgil shook his head, enjoying the feeling of being held close to someone as they swept around the room. “I don’t wish to use my name tonight.”

A small smile graced the man’s features. “That sentiment, I echo.” He hummed as his eyes scanned over the heads in the crowd, finally coming to rest on Virgil again. “Your dress reminds me of a kaleidoscope of butterflies so I shall call you The Purple Butterfly, or just Butterfly if you prefer.”

Virgil smiled. “Well, then, what shall I call you?”

The man thought for a moment. “Emerald. Just Emerald.”

“And if I prefer something fancier?”

He smiled conspiratorially. “Then you shall have to wait until later tonight to hear it.”

The dance started in earnest at that point, leaving them little time to talk. They glided across the room, moving as if they’d been dancing together their whole lives. When it finished, they stood there for a second with each other. The next song started and they didn’t have to talk to know they were going to dance it together. Two more songs passed this way before Virgil stopped them.

He shook his head when Emerald gave him the same eyebrow tilt and angle of his head. “If I don’t sit down now, I fear my legs will collapse.” He was used to moving a lot throughout his day, rarely getting the time to sit down, but these shoes were as new to him as the dancing was and he’d already been on his feet more than usual today.

Emerald nodded and led him over to a secluded bench. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

Virgil smiled. “If you wouldn’t mind. I don’t want to be a bother.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “It’s no bother at all, Butterfly.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Virgil felt a trill in his heart when the man said that. He caught a glimpse of the only pair of people not wearing masks to the event, the engaged couple that the party was for, and was jolted back to his task at hand. He was about to stand and make his way to them when Emerald came back with the refreshments.

"Here you are, Butterfly," he said as he handed him a plate and small goblet. "This is just juice so don't worry about any alcohol."

Virgil smiled gratefully and took the offered items. He took a sip of the drink and found it to be a sweet and fruity liquid colored red. Looking down at his plate, he noticed simple snacks that were high in protein. "Thank you, this will be perfect."

Emerald didn't sit down right away, preferring to lean against a nearby pillar as he sipped at his own juice. They stayed there in silence, simply eating their food and watching the dancing crowd. Virgil's eyes kept drifting back over to Prince Patton and his fiancé, Prince Remus. Finally, Emerald seemed to catch on to this.

"Is there something you need to ask or tell them?”

Virgil shrugged. "Yes and no. There's something important I have to tell them but I'm not quite certain how to go about doing that. I wouldn't want to bother them during such a happy time."

Emerald turned his head, an unreadable sparkle entering his eye. "Is it something that can wait? If not, I have our prince's ear."

Virgil shrugged again, eyes scanning the crowd for what he knew Prince Logan looked like. "I can't see the object of the conversation so I'm not sure how useful that would be." He looked up at the man, smiling beneath his mask. "However, I do thank you for the offer."

He nodded and went back to people watching, almost autonomously bringing his food and drink to his mouth. Virgil did the same, savoring the rich foods and smooth drink, wondering when the next time he was going to have something like this again would be. Searching the crowd, he found his step-brother fawning over a young maiden, his step-father nearby. He really had to look to find his step-sister but she was sitting on a bench and conversing with another young lady, both sitting close enough together that the interest must have been mutual. Virgil thought about how close the masked man was standing to himself and wondered if they looked like a couple to outside observers in the same way the women across the hall did to him.

The man looked down at him from his stance by the pillar. "What are you thinking of?"

Virgil blinked, looking back up at him. "Nothing of much importance." He'd always been told he had nothing to say so why bother speaking his mind.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Come now, there must be at least one thing of importance within that brain of yours."

Virgil wasn't as sure about that as the stranger seemed to be. Still, he gestured to the two women across the room. "I was just thinking of how sweet that couple looked together." He shrugged, eyes darting back down to the now empty plate and cup in his hands.

Emerald nodded, reaching down to gather the dishware. "That they do. Here, I'll go take care of this. Would you like to dance another set after that?" He looked into Virgil's eyes, waiting for his reply.

Virgil smiled, remembering that he wasn't simply a servant tonight and could do as he liked. "Yes, I think that would be splendid."

The man nodded and left to put the dishware down on a nearby table. He soon returned and they were off, sweeping across the dancefloor for another four dances. Virgil smiled and laughed as they twirled and spun, getting caught up in the lovely feeling of one person's attention resting solely on him for so long.

Still, he came back down to earth when the last dance ended. He remembered what he was there to do: find the prince and warn him of the plot on his life. He scanned the crowd for his step-father and step-brother and found them where he'd last seen them. He tried to find the engaged princes but neither were in sight, nor was Prince Logan anywhere to be found.

Virgil's chin was gently grasped and turned and he flinched away, fearing punishment. He met his dance partner's eyes and saw an apology in them. The man leaned forward to be heard above the music. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake grabbing you like that." He didn't speak for a moment, just looked into Virgil's eyes. "Butterfly, would you like to get away from here?"

Virgil was suddenly aware of just how loud everything was, how bright all the lights were and how heavy he felt on his feet. He nodded and allowed Emerald to take his arm, quickly guiding him to a side door. The man waved at someone else but Virgil was so disoriented, he had no idea who it was nor was he inclined to find out. He found himself pulled through the door and into another, darker, room. He was directed to a bench. Light flickered at a farther end of the room but all the candles were snuffed out where they had entered, making it easier for his eyes to adjust.

Emerald knelt beside him, a hand nearby. Virgil took a deep breath and held it, doing the soothing technique the cook taught him. Soon, after much arm rubbing and deliberate breathing, he’d calmed down enough to look at the man who was staring at him in a way that was so heartbreakingly concerned Virgil had to look away.

“I’m sorry.” Virgil’s voice was quiet but it was loud enough in the silent room.

“No.” Emerald’s voice was soft. “No, it’s I who should be sorry. I touched you without your consent and for that I beg your forgiveness. If you wish to leave the ball now I will understand completely and, while I myself am not free to leave, I will find someone who can take you home.” He stood and moved as if to leave but Virgil grasped the hem of his doublet.

“Please, don’t leave me.” He didn’t want to spiral into the usual thoughts he did when his step-family mistreated him, he didn’t want to mar this perfect night with the thought of yet more violence.

“Of course.” Emerald stood near him as Virgil gathered the soft material of his skirts and stood. The masked stranger looked at Virgil for a moment longer. “Is it alright if I light the candles?”

Virgil nodded and, as the room was slowly filled with light, looked around. They were in a library, larger than the one back at the mansion. He spun in a slow circle, his dress fanning out around him, as he tried to take in just how many books were around him.

Behind him, Emerald chuckled. “Feel free to look around, pull a book off the shelf if you want. I’m not sure you can take it out of this room but every guest is free to spend as much time as they want in here to read as many books as they can.”

Virgil looked on in awe before slowly walking to the nearest shelf. He didn’t even dare to run his fingers across the spines, his gloves slightly dirty from the food. Still, he wandered the rows and looked at all the different titles that were there. Many looked interesting enough for him to curl up on that bench and read until the sun came up and the staff kicked him out. He knew he didn’t have that kind of time and whirled around, bumping into Emerald.

Emerald laughed, hands holding Virgil’s elbows to steady him. “Where are you going in such a hurry, Butterfly?”

“I must speak to Prince Logan, it’s an urgent matter.”

Emerald nodded, serious suddenly. “What if I told you I could get you an audience with him?”

Virgil clasped his hands anxiously at his waist. “Really? You’re able to do that?”

Emerald nodded. “Quite easily. I’m his closest confidant, he tells me everything.”

“What must I do to get an audience with him?”

“It’s a very simple thing. You must play a game of chess with me.” He held up a hand. “You’re not required to win, but you must play the game to completion.”

Virgil nodded, having played chess with his father often before his death and still managed the odd game with the random footman. “That’s doable.”

Emerald led the way deeper between the aisles and up a flight of stairs to a chess set. He let Virgil sit first, the purple clad servant choosing the black set. Emerald laughed and sat in front of the white.

About midway through their game, Virgil asked the question that had been brought up at the beginning of the night. “So, what shall I call you if I deem it a time to be more fanciful?”

Emerald hummed as he finished his move. “You’ll have to wait until after your meeting with the prince to know that.”

Virgil had no idea how long their game lasted, only that he’d gotten so lost in it he almost missed the bell that signaled it was half an hour until midnight. He jolted, looking at the wall that the bell came from. “Is that really the time?! I must be on my way!” The spell wore off at midnight and his family was coming home at one, he still needed time to get home and get his chores done.

“Yes, that’s the time. Is there something wrong?” Emerald had stayed in his seat but looked slightly worried.

“I must go home now. Is there any way to meet with the prince tomorrow?” If he wasn’t already dead. Virgil felt like such a fool for taking his eyes off his step-family, even just for a moment was too long.

“His schedule is, unfortunately, quite packed during the day tomorrow. However, we can resume our chess game at tomorrow’s ball and you can meet him after that.”

Virgil nodded and made his way out, back into the stunningly loud ballroom. He went around the outside edge and rode his carriage all the way back home. Everything reverted back to its former state just as he was walking up the drive.

Mandy smiled at him upon his reentrance to the kitchen, having briefly run to his room to change. “How was it, sweetie?”

Virgil smiled back as he grabbed a rag. “Oh, Mandy, it was just like a dream!” Cleaning up the kitchens, he told the cook all about the dancing and the food and Emerald, leaving out the parts where he nearly ruined the whole night and where he was very useless at stopping an assassination. “And the best thing is that I get to do it all over again tomorrow!” If the prince wasn’t announced dead and the rest of the balls canceled.

She listened patiently to his rambling story, smiling all the while and loving the way his face lit up while talking about this Emerald. “It seems you really did enjoy yourself. I’m glad.”

He paused his dashing about to stand in front of the stool she’d perched herself on. He held a hand to her cheek. “Mandy, I’ve got enough energy left in me to do both my chores and yours. Go on to bed, you look exhausted.”

“Truly? It’s not going to be too much work for you?”

He smiled. “It’ll be fine. Go on now.” She patted his cheek and told him where the cookies were before giving in and making her way to bed. 

He finished the kitchen and went on to clean up the sitting room, something that he really should have done before he left but he was too excited to do so. Just as he finished that, he heard the carriage come up. He'd changed into his every day wear a few minutes after getting back so there was nothing to worry about in that regard. His step-sister went straight to bed while the men went to the sitting room and called for some tea and refreshments, just as Virgil knew they would.

Virgil stood just outside the door and listened in on their conversation. “Did you even get a good look at him?!” his step-father was saying.

“No and I’m starting to wonder if Prince Logan had even attended the ball at all.” That was his step-brother.

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. The prince was still alive and Virgil had another chance to make sure he stayed that way. He finished the rest of his chores as quickly as possible and went off to bed.

The next day, he was whistling as he worked when his step-sister came upon him. She sat on the upholstered bench as he dusted the library shelves. An unconscious smile came to his face as he thought of the library from the night before.

“You seem to be in a good mood. Care to share why?” She asked as he went about his chores.

Virgil shrugged. “I got an early start to the day, didn’t get a single thing thrown at me when delivering breakfast, and am slightly ahead in my work.” He instantly regretted telling her the last part, fearing that she would come up with other things to lengthen his day.

Instead, she didn’t even comment on it. “It’s nice that at least one of us is in a good mood.”

Virgil sighed, knowing she was operating on a script but hadn’t been given the lines for. “What makes you say that? Are you not in a good mood today?”

He caught sight of her in his periphery as she shook her head. “I met someone at the ball last night and I think we really could make a nice match.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows as the image of her and the young woman came to mind. “Oh? And who would this be? Why does this not put you in a good mood?”

“Because I’m not sure if Father will let me pursue her.”

“Her?” He coaxed her to keep talking so he didn’t have to, making it less likely for him to make a mistake and be punished.

“Yes, her. She’s not very high up, only the daughter of a baron. I’m sure Father wants to marry me off to foreign royalty if he can, at least a count or countess. He’d never approve of a baroness.”

Virgil hummed. They themselves were only on the viscount level, only a step above the barons. He wondered what level Emerald was at. He had to be high up if he had the ear of the Prince Logan, but he could also just be a childhood friend that had continued into adulthood. He tuned back in to hear his step-sister bemoaning her life and how it wasn’t fair that her father might not let her court the baroness.

He let her ramble as he worked before bowing and leaving the now cleaned library behind. He grabbed a filled water bucket and an old rag, washing the flooring in the entrance hall. Then came sweeping the stairs and dusting the bedrooms, guest rooms included. He helped with lunch and Mandy forced him to break long enough to eat before he was off to care for the animals outside.

By the time night fell and his step-family had left, he was very nearly dead on his feet. Throwing back on his best shoes and his father’s old red suit, he gained a second wind as he headed to the backyard. The old woman met him again, this time giving him a purple vest with silver accents, a black shirt and silver tie beneath it, and a pair of black suit pants. His mask for the night was a silverish white one that had purple accents and a silver butterfly wing as the right eye. His best shoes, admittedly quite ratty, were transformed into a pair that looked straight off the shelf and were as comfortable as they could be.

He was brought to the castle in the same carriage from the night before. He got to the entrance way before he spotted Emerald standing near the entrance to the ballroom, searching for someone. Emerald was wearing the same mask as the night before but his dress was an off the shoulder piece with long sleeves and a skirt that pooled around his feet. It was a dark blue color with star-like, shimmering sequins that clustered over the top and sleeves but trailed off at the waist, leaving the rest of the gown as a solid color. Emerald raised a hand as Virgil came closer, sliding through the crowd and coming to keep pace with Virgil.

“Hello, Butterfly. How are you this evening?” Emerald sounded as he did last night, slightly detached but with an air of caring.

Virgil smiled and breathed out a sigh. “How real do you want my answer to be?” He wondered how far he could push his luck tonight.

Emerald paused in his tracks, Virgil going a few steps ahead before turning back to find him standing still. “I want you to be as real as you’d like. You’re in charge here, Butterfly.”

Virgil genuinely considered that for a moment before speaking his mind. “In that case, I don’t think I could survive a night in that ballroom. There’s way too many people here tonight.” He was almost hoping Emerald would let them go straight to the chess game.

Emerald nodded, moving the few steps to stand by Virgil and holding his arm out. Virgil gratefully took it, settling his hand in the crook of the other’s elbow, and allowed himself to be led away. “I was almost hoping you’d say that,” Emerald said by way of explanation, “as I really wasn’t looking forward to dancing all night either.”

Virgil looked down at him, observing the way the light caught his mask and made his eyes sparkle. “I really do need to speak with Prince Logan before midnight.”

Emerald nodded, patting his hand. “And so you shall. We’ll take a turn about the gardens, see the stars, and then you can best me at chess and you can have that audience with the prince.” He smiled in a way that Virgil couldn’t interpret.

“Thank you. I’m grateful that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Emerald opened a door that led outside, depositing them in front of the castle gardens. “I find you an intriguing enigma, Butterfly. Would it be out of line of me to ask you to tell me more about yourself? You don’t have to disclose anything you don’t wish to.”

Virgil stepped out with him, breathing in the cool night air. “What do you want to know? How honest would you like me to be? I can spin quite the tall tale if you let me.” He used to talk to the child of one of the maids, always coming up with clever excuses and stories as to why he was injured in some way or another. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to share the truth with someone he’d met just the night before but he was also feeling slightly brave with the mask hiding his identity.

Emerald led him down a path lined with hedges and flower beds. “You can be as truthful or as fanciful as you’d like. I shall enjoy guessing which is truth, if you’ll let me.”

Virgil nodded. They walked in silence for a few more moments, the noise of the ball fading until it was almost gone completely. He sat, staring at the flowers across the path and the butterflies that flitted around them. “I’d like to talk about it, if you’re willing to listen.”

Emerald gathered his skirts and sat beside him. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Virgil took a deep breath. “My childhood wasn’t the best. I had a few good, happy years. When Mother was still alive, before Father remarried. By the time I turned nine, everything had changed. Mother died when I was seven, Father remarried when I was eight and died shortly before I turned nine.” He shrugged. “Life went downhill from there.”

Emerald put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Butterfly. I can apologize I asked and we can move on to lighter topics.”

Virgil shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “Now that I’ve started, it’s easier to just keep going.” He felt a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. “My status no longer mattered. To them, I was just another person to put down.”

“To them? You’ve only mentioned your father’s second spouse.”

Virgil quirked the side of his mouth. “Yeah, them. Step-father, his son, and his daughter. They treat me like I’m lower than the dirt they walk on. The thing that gets me is that I let them. They’ve knocked me around so many times, I just do what they want because it’s easier than trying to fight back.”

He felt a tear slip down behind his mask. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Emerald’s arm slipped around Virgil’s shoulders and he pulled him against his side, just holding him for a moment. After a minute or two, Virgil sniffed and pulled away, pulling his mask out a bit to wipe at his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know why I decided to spill my soul to someone I only met yesterday.”

Emerald looked back at him with gentle eyes, nothing but kindness to be found. “If you didn’t talk about it you would have burst. I can understand that feeling.” He perked up, standing and holding a hand out to Virgil. “Come on, let’s talk about a happier topic. Have you ever seen the night sky properly?”

For the next hour, they laid in the center of the hedge maze, heads together and feet facing opposite directions. Emerald pointed out stars and constellations, telling stories about them. Virgil asked about some and told made up stories about others. When they got tired of talking of stars and stories, they asked each other about opinions on anything and everything under the sun, learning about favorites and dislikes.

In that moment on the grass, Virgil felt that he could love this person, this man who comforted him when speaking of his family history, who played a mean game of chess, who had a lovely sense of humor. He knew that if he had the choice as to who to spend the rest of his life with, it wouldn’t be a hard decision to pick Emerald. It didn’t matter that neither knew the other’s name nor what they looked like, all that mattered was that they were alike enough that life would be paradise compared to his current situation.

Finally, Emerald sighed. “We should go back and join the ballroom, at least for a half hour.”

Virgil nodded and sat up. “Are you required to?”

Emerald shrugged. “As a close friend of the crown, it’s expected of me. Could you help me? I’m not sure I got all the grass off.” Virgil chuckled and helped brush him off, Emerald checking that Virgil’s suit was grass-free. They walked back together, hands linking.

They got back to the ballroom, the noise hitting Virgil like a wall. He took a deep breath as they went in, instantly trying to spot either his step-family or the royal family. He and Emerald stayed off to the side as they waited for the current dance set to end.

“Is your step-family here right now?” Emerald asked, leaning close to Virgil’s ear to be heard.

Virgil kept looking through the crowd. “I know they’re here but I don’t see any of them right now. That’s slightly concerning to me if I’m continuing the honesty streak.”

Emerald nodded, tucking him just that much closer to himself. “Can I ask why that’s concerning?”

“That’s what I need to talk to the prince about.” As much as he felt that he could trust this man, he was unsure if that trust could go as far as a plot on royalty’s life.

Emerald hummed, going back to watching the dancing. Virgil spotted his step-brother in the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief. When the dance ended, Emerald tugged Virgil onto the dance floor and into his arms.

Once they were out there, they synched up. Emerald barely had to press his fingers on Virgil’s waist to guide the dance. They moved almost as one as they glided across the dance floor. Virgil lost himself in the motions, in Emerald’s eyes, in the moment, and in the feeling of being held.

A half hour later, the dance set was finished and the pair were sitting on a nearby bench, drinking from goblets and watching the crowd. “Do you know when I may speak with the prince?” Virgil asked, leaning wearily against the wall.

“After we finish our chess match.” Emerald drained the last of his drink. “I made sure it was left in the same position as when we played last night. Care to finish it?”

Virgil nodded and instinctively reached to take his empty goblet. Emerald simply smirked, taking Virgil’s and handing both off to a passing servant. They wove around the room and slipped through the door into the library.

They sat and resumed the game, each giving a fact about himself with each piece captured. When Virgil managed to capture the second rook, Emerald laughed. “Last night I promised that there was a fancier version of the nickname ‘Emerald’ I’ve been using.”

“Yes, just as you call me the Purple Butterfly, there was something you could be called.”

“Yes, that. If it is a very serious moment, or you wish to address me by the full thing, call me the Evening Emerald.”

Virgil nodded. “Alright, Evening Emerald, let’s finish this game.”

Just as he was about to make his next move, the clock struck a quarter till midnight. “Oh my!” Virgil stood. “My apologies but it seems it will need to wait another day. I must be home soon!” He hadn’t meant to stay that late at all.

With that, he ran out of the room. The Evening Emerald was left to stare at an empty seat and hope the Purple Butterfly was safe.

Once again, Virgil arrived back at home just as the spell wore off. He changed out of the tattered suit and old shoes into his usual servant outfit before doing his nightly chores. Mandy and the rest of the staff had already gone to bed so he had the house to himself for a rare moment. Dreamily, he danced around the kitchen as he did his chores, remembering the dancing from earlier.

When all the chores were done, he prepared a snack and waited for his step-family to arrive home. They arrived soon after he sat down, giving him no time to rest as he took their coats and brought the snack to them in the drawing room. He was told to leave the room but once again stood at the door. HIs step-siblings talked of the people they met at the party for a while before his step-sister withdrew to her room. The two men, left alone in the room, talked about the royalty again.

“Did you see him at all this time?” Step-father asked.

“In my defense, I was busy with a girl.” Virgil could see him in his mind’s eye, rubbing the back of his neck with a barely apologetic look on his face.

The sound of a thud and a crash reached Virgil, making him wince. That sounded like something heavy and fragile hitting a wall and Virgil knew he was going to be the one cleaning it up tomorrow. “Do you mean to tell me that we have wasted two of the three night window to be rid of that man?” his step-father’s voice was low and slow, a sure sign that it was time for Virgil to get out of there.

He took the tray of now dirty dishware to the kitchen, cleaning them properly before putting them away, hands shaking all the while. It wasn’t the yelling that one had to worry about when it came to his step-father. It was the throwing things, the hands that lashed out quickly, the feet that would trip and kick. It was the soft voice the man only used when he was trying to get something peacefully or when he was livid. 

That soft voice was what Virgil feared the most and the reason he wanted to leave so badly.

When the last dish was placed, Virgil made the long trek up to his bedroom in the attic. He pulled up the loose floorboard he kept his valuables under, checking to make sure that his coin purse was still there. It was, ready to go the day after tomorrow when he was finally going to leave this place behind forever. He put the board back before falling into bed, going to sleep soon after.

He woke the next morning to a footman knocking at his door. “Virgil.” A hushed voice reached him.

Virgil sat up, rubbing his eyes even as he pulled his work boots on. “Yeah? Come in.”

He poked his head around. “The master is up early.”

Virgil cursed under his breath, hurrying to lace the boots. “How deep in trouble am I today?”

“He threw a vase last night and wants it cleaned up two hours ago.”

Virgil rushed to the door, walking quickly with the footman on his heels. “Of course he does. And of course he wants me to do it. Because of course we don’t have a legion of maids to do exactly that.” Virgil grumbled as they descended. The footman didn’t respond but looked like he was nodding along.

They parted ways at the base of the stairs, Virgil giving him thanks and moving to the drawing room. his step-father was already there, sitting in an armchair and reading the morning paper. Virgil gave him a half bow before moving to pick up the pieces of ceramic.

The rug beneath the spot on the wall was damaged beyond repair and Virgil made a mental note to add a new rug to the shopping list. The wall was more or less undamaged, giving it a good wipe down would do the trick. Virgil stood and left the room, soon returning with what he needed to set the room right.

He hummed as he worked, thoughts drifting to the night before. The job was finished before he knew it and he stood to leave. Just as he reached the door, his step-father spoke. “There’s a new list of chores in the kitchen for you. I expect them to be completed before I return tonight.”

Virgil turned his head to look at the man who hadn’t even bothered to look up from his newspaper. “Yes, sir.”

The list was almost twice as long as it had been the first day. Virgil sighed, placing the things down where they belonged. Mandy blocked his way out the door. “I’m not letting you get a step farther until you at least eat something. I’ve seen that list and it’s more than should be asked of any one person.”

Virgil sighed but gave in, sitting down to eat. While he was eating, the scullery maid came in and set the feed bag down. “I’ve fed the animals and done what I can for them. I know it’s not much but it’s all I can give you.” He knew she’d grown up on a farm so the animals and their stalls were in good hands. He nodded his thanks as he shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth.

Snatching up the three trays, he went through the motions of serving his step-family before moving on to his other chores. He went up to the guest rooms, only to be told that all three of the maids had taken it upon themselves to clean them for him. He thanked them and went back down to sweep the front stairs and mop the downstairs. He was once again pulled into the kitchen for lunch but helped them to deep clean it afterwards.

The day dragged on slowly. Virgil counted the seconds until his step-family left for the ball. Finally, they did. He was up in an attic storage space trying to find decorations for something or other when the same footman came in. “Mandy wanted me to tell you that they’ve just left.”

Virgil glanced up and nodded. “Thank you.” He left his task where it was and went to get dressed. He pulled that floorboard back up and lifted out a small bag that contained his most prized worldly possessions. He opened it carefully and drew out a thin necklace chain with a small bat charm hanging from it, his mother’s necklace. He smiled, putting it on beneath his father’s old suit and best shoes.

He gave Mandy a kiss on the cheek before slipping out the back door. The old woman met him in the backyard again and provided the carriage and outfit. The shoes were the same as the first night but this time his dress was as black as midnight, with small stars dotting it and clustering in a swirl that ran diagonally across the skirt. It resembled a night sky with a nebula shining through and Virgil couldn’t have loved it more as it matched perfectly with the small bat charm resting between his collarbones. His mask was a black and silver version of the butterfly he’d worn the previous night.

When he arrived at the ball, Emerald was nowhere to be seen. Virgil slipped inside and found the same back corner as he had that first night. It wasn’t long before Emerald found him, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer to him. “Apologies for not greeting you at the door, I was speaking with my brother.”

Virgil hummed, feeling slightly less drained of energy upon seeing him for some reason. “That’s fine, I’m not the main focus of this event.”

Emerald laughed lightly. “You’re my main focus. Speaking of,” he turned his head to catch Virgil’s eye, “what would you like to do now? Dance, walk in the garden, finish our chess match, sit and talk?”

Virgil smiled. “I honestly don’t have the energy to dance nor play chess at the moment. Finding a place to sit and talk sounds lovely, though.” He wanted to enjoy his last night with this amazing man.

Emerald nodded, stepping away enough to hold Virgil’s hand and guide him along. “Alright. I know an out of the way bench where we can sit and view the dancing without having to shout to hear each other.” He started leading the way and Virgil followed, paying more attention to Emerald’s outfit than to where they were going.

He was wearing a brilliant green suit that matched his name, his plain green mask that had been worn during both previous balls, and a silver circlet that kept his hair in check. As always, there were a few strands that had fallen over his forehead but Virgil found them endearing.

He was brought out of his musings by drunk shouting. A duke was blocking their path, shouting at a servant for, from what Virgil could gather, being out of wine. Virgil drew into himself just the slightest bit, having been on the receiving end of such yelling it is the furthest thing from fun he can think of. Emerald squeezed his hand before releasing it.

“Now see here, your grace. That is no way to treat someone who is only doing their job.” His voice was firm as he reached forward and grabbed onto the man’s arm.

The duke shook him off, squinting at him. “Who are you to order me around?”

Virgil looked around for help, flagging down a patrolling pair of guards. Emerald kept talking to the duke in a stern voice that grew angrier the longer he went on. The guards came over and Virgil filled them in on what was happening. They quickly escorted the duke out of the room and, presumably, out of the castle as well.

Emerald took Virgil’s hand, keeping him slightly closer as they kept going. They didn’t speak again until they’d arrived at a bench on the balcony. Emerald seated Virgil before he himself sat down. “I beg your pardon for my anger a few moments ago. The only thing I hate in the world is people who abuse their positions of power.”

Virgil smiled, feeling something settle in his chest at that, like something had just clicked into place. “I completely understand.”

“I must say, it was very quick thinking to call the guards over as you did.” Emerald remarked, making Virgil feel heat rise in his cheeks.

“It was just what anyone else would do.” He deliberately kept his eyes on the dancefloor, not glancing at his companion.

Emerald chuckled, switching the topic to sweets and favorite desserts. Virgil was grateful for the distraction, listening to him talk for a while until he felt awake and rested enough to dance. He told Emerald this and they waited for the next opening to step onto the dance floor.

As they danced, the world seemed to melt away. Virgil forgot about his step-family, the prince and the plot on his life, even the fear and uncertainty of tomorrow. In that moment, it was just him and Emerald. They twirled around the dance floor, both feeling as if they were floating rather than dancing, sweeping around the couples dancing with them. When they got toward the end of the set, Emerald took one of Virgil’s hands and spun him, smiling as Virgil couldn’t help but laugh as he spun. When he was pulled back in, Emerald dipped him. Virgil was held in strong arms, looking up into eyes that were a brighter green than the mask that lay over them, and had never felt more secure and loved in his whole life.

Emerald laughed through a heavy breath, holding him in the dip for a few seconds longer than the rest of the dancers before pulling him up and leading him to the same bench they’d sat on during the first ball. Both were breathing hard and just sat there for a few moments, leaning on the other. They didn’t speak for a few moments, simply sitting and enjoying the rush of the dance and the buzz in their chests.

Finally, Virgil sat up and away from Emerald. “That was exhilarating!”

Emerald chuckled, leaning against the pillar beside him. “That it was.”

A few more minutes were spent watching the dancing before Virgil caught sight of his step-father and was reminded why he was there in the first place. “Should we go finish that chess match?” He asked.

Emerald nodded and stood. “That sounds like a lovely idea.” He held a hand out and helped Virgil to his feet, tucking his hand into the crook of his arm.

They wove through the crowd until they reached the library door where they slipped through and over to the chess board. It was quiet as they sat down and tried to remember what their strategies had been and where they were in the game. Once they were mentally settled, they started up their usual banter as the game progressed. Virgil was enjoying himself, time seeming to fly.

An hour after they started, Virgil finally caught Emerald’s queen and moved into a checkmate position.

“You have captured my heart as easily as you captured my queen.” The Evening Emerald said softly, gazing down at the chessboard between them.

Virgil looked up at that, startled. “What?”

Emerald laughed. “Forget it. Let’s go meet the prince.” He stood, helping Virgil to his feet as well.

Virgil’s thoughts kept going back to what Emerald had said as they exited a door opposite the one they entered. They walked down the hall, taking a few turns before Virgil asked where they were going.

“He’s usually in the observatory at this time of night, ball or no ball, so we have to go there to meet with him.”

Virgil hummed in response. He carefully kept track of the amount of turns and in which direction they went.

“So, what are you wanting to speak to the prince about?” Emerald asked as they walked.

“I overheard my family talking about something that concerns me quite a bit.” He paused for a moment, weighing his trust for this man. After thinking, he continued speaking. “My step-father and step-brother are plotting high treason: the assassination of Prince Logan.”

They stopped walking when they got to a door. The clock proclaimed it a half hour to midnight just as they arrived.  Virgil startled. “Oh! I didn’t realize how late it was. I have to go. Promise me you’ll pass the warning on to the prince? Please tell him about the assassination attempt?”

Emerald reached out, not quite touching Virgil’s arm. “Please stay. Just this once? You always rush off so quickly. You finally managed to beat me, don’t you want to at least meet the prince? Isn’t that what you came here for?” There was a note of pleading in his voice that made Virgil want to give in. The one thing that kept him from staying was the thought of what his step-father would do to the servants if he wasn’t there when they got back.

Virgil looked between him and back the way they came. “I really must go. I can’t be gone when my family returns.” He ran down the hall, back the way they came.

“Wait!” Emerald called out behind him. Virgil ignored him, even as an ache began in his chest. He made his way back through the library, along the edge of the ballroom, and out into the corridor, picking up a bit of speed in the empty hallway. The thud of boots on stone sounded behind him as Emerald made it out. Another call to wait and talk to him echoed to Virgil.

He burst out the front doors, the carriage waiting right where he’d left it. Finding it harder to run down the stairs in the slippers, he slipped them off and held them for a moment. Before he could start moving again, Emerald appeared at the top of the stairs, maskless. Virgil dropped one of the shoes in shock, screwing up his face in anticipation of hearing the shoe shatter behind him but not hearing anything. Instead, he ran to the carriage and climbed inside.

Emerald made it to the shoe that was halfway down the stairs when the carriage left the gate, Virgil gazing out the back window. He hoped Emerald would be able to do something about the prince’s life, hoped everything would turn out alright. He kept watching until the castle faded from view as the carriage raced along the path back to the house.

Hooves pounded against stone behind him but Virgil couldn’t be sure if that was his carriage or someone pursuing him and he was terrified to look in case it was his step-family going home early. He arrived in one piece and jumped out just as the dress dissolved back into his red suit, leaving him with the one glass slipper, ribbons trailing from it.

Mandy met him at the back door. “How was the last night? Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Virgil smiled at her and took the time to twirl her around. “I’ve decided to make my escape tonight, while the others are occupied with the ball. I shall be back as soon as I have enough money to claim this land as my own.”

She laughed. “I wish you well.”

He ran up to his room and managed to change into his normal attire before a shout and bang from downstairs caught his attention. He stored the slipper with the rest of his valuables, rubbed his face on his apron to make him look dirtier than he was, and went back downstairs. The front door was standing open and his step-family was in the entry hall. Virgil walked up to them, taking coats and hanging them up. “You’re home early. Did something happen?”

His step-father scowled at him. “There was a commotion that resulted in half of the guard disappearing in pursuit of someone. I didn’t like the situation and so we left.”

Virgil bowed his head, silently cursing his foolishness. “Can I get you anything before you retire for the night?”

“No, that will be all.” His step-father swept up the stairs and to his room. His step-brother and step-sister didn’t speak to him, just piled their coats into his arms and went into the drawing room. Virgil put the coats away and went to sit in the kitchen.

“I don’t know what to do now. Do you think I have time to sneak out still?”

Mandy came over to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “Oh, sweet. Of course you still have time. Get out while you can, we’ll be fine here.”

Virgil nodded, back straightening with intention. “Okay, thank you. For everything.”

He stood and made it to the top of the main staircase when a knock sounded at the door. A footman seemed to almost appear out of the wall and looked around for someone to take orders from. He caught sight of Virgil and gestured to the door. Virgil shook his head, hissing out, “Don’t look at me for help, I don’t have any authority here.”

The footman sighed and rolled his eyes before going to open the door anyways. Virgil dove behind the banister and peeked out at the entrance hall. The door opened to an unmasked Emerald standing in front of a small troop of castle guards. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you at such an hour but I’m wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for a man who was seen holding a shoe that looks like this?” He held up the shoe Virgil had dropped on the stairs.

The footman nodded nervously, glancing up the stairs at Virgil’s general direction. Emerald followed the footman’s gaze and smiled. “Are you up there, Butterfly?”

Virgil growled low in his throat as he came out from hiding and walked down the stairs. “No loyalty at all around here.” He muttered as he came to stand near the footman, who promptly went toward the kitchen. The maids were clustered around the doorway, just watching what was happening.

Emerald smiled. “Are you my butterfly?” The maids giggled from the doorway, Mandy coming out to shoo them away. “Is there somewhere private I can talk with you and your step-family?”

Virgil didn’t respond but led him to the doorway to the drawing room, only remembering that his step-siblings were in there as he was opening the doors. His step-brother was lounging on the couch as his step-sister paced, mid rant about the maiden she’d been flirting with. Virgil forced a smile as he advanced into the room, moving to stand in front of the damaged wall. Emerald came in and took a seat in the armchair. He looked to Virgil’s step-sister. “Would you mind going to get your father?”

She curtseyed and left without a word. Virgil’s step-brother sat up, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Emerald. “Your highness, may I ask what the reason for your visit is?”

Virgil was trying very hard not to collapse to the ground from exhaustion so his mind briefly glazed over the title before coming back to it. By the time it had registered, however, his step-father had stepped into the room and was glaring daggers at Virgil already. Emerald held a hand out to Virgil who instinctively looked at his own hands as if he had something to hand him. Instead, the man simply smiled. “Butterfly, would you please sit down next to me?”

Virgil nodded and moved to stand by his armchair, not having anything to sit on nearby. Emerald took his hand, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of it. Virgil leaned against the chair just the slightest bit. Emerald turned back to Virgil’s step-family. “So, I was told you wanted me dead.”

His step-brother squeaked and looked to his father, who was as still and cold as stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your highness.”

Virgil could feel his day catching up to him, just how much cleaning, dancing, socializing, and running he’d done was starting to take its toll on him. He leaned a bit heavier against the chair as he listened to Emerald talk with his step-father.

“I was informed by a trusted source that you were conspiring to kill me. I don’t think I have to inform you that that’s high treason and punishable by death.”

“Father, what’s going on? I don’t want to die.” Virgil’s step-brother asked, panic invading his voice.

Emerald smirked. “Why would you have anything to fear?” There was more back and forth conversation before Emerald ordered the guards to arrest the two men. Virgil’s step-sister went with them as she wanted to see if she could court the woman she’d been speaking with at the ball.

Emerald tugged gently on Virgil’s hand, drawing his attention to him. Virgil looked down at him. “Are you really Prince Logan?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I am. Now that you know my name, am I permitted to know yours?”

“It’s Virgil. Virgil Strand.”

Emerald pulled on Virgil’s hand until he was sitting in his lap. “Thank you for saving my life, Virgil Strand.”

Despite how tired he was, Virgil’s heart did a flutter when he heard his name. He rested his head on Emerald’s Logan’s shoulder. “I promise that I’m very happy to see you and know you're safe but I’m very tired.” He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling safe in Logan’s arms.

Logan chuckled. “I understand. Do you want to stay here or would you like to come to the castle with me? You don’t have to go back to the ball or anything like that if you don’t want to.”

Virgil hummed. “I wanna stay with you. Where it feels safe.”

He felt Logan’s chin brush the top of his head before there were arms around him and lifting him. Logan walked for a minute or so before Virgil was handed off to someone else. Metal jingled and Virgil felt himself rising, settling down with his back to Logan’s chest as he straddled what felt like a horse. He stirred slightly, causing Logan to hum a soothing tune. Virgil finally gave into his exhaustion and fell asleep in his arms.

He didn’t wake up until the next morning when the sun came streaming in through the window. Virgil rolled over, feeling soft sheets on his skin and a warmth next to him. He curled into that warmth before realizing that it wasn’t normal for him to wake up well rested nor with warmth nearby. Jolting backwards, he fell off the bed before realizing that he was in a bed. He groaned and stood, finding Logan had been the one asleep beside him. With no knowledge of where he was or how he got there, he wasn’t sure what the next course of action was.

Luckily, he didn’t have to think long as Logan rolled over, his eyes opening as he smiled at Virgil. “Good morning, Butterfly.”

Virgil smiled awkwardly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Logan rolled until his head was in Virgil’s lap. “I don’t exactly remember what happened toward the end of the night.”

Logan laughed. “That’s understandable given the circumstances. We need to talk to my father this afternoon but the morning is yours to command. What shall we do first?”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t exactly have any clothes to wear except for these.”

Logan nodded. “I can lend you some for now and buy you more later. Anything else?”

Virgil shook his head. “Nothing I can think of.” He was already feeling tired again, his body wanting to catch up on sleep.

Logan sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to mimic Virgil’s stance. One of his hands came up to cradle Virgil’s cheek. “In that case, I think we need to talk.”

“I agree.” Virgil wasn’t sure how to approach the topic he wanted to discuss.

Logan smiled. “I love you. To be honest, I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you walked into that first ball.”

Virgil smiled, his hand reaching up to grasp Logan’s wrist. “I love you too.”

Logan leaned forward slightly. “May I kiss you?”

Virgil nodded, closing the distance and meeting Logan in the middle. When they pulled apart, both had a smile on his face. Logan laughed lightly. “When I first saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I knew I had to talk to you. I’m so glad I did.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead on Virgil’s.

That afternoon, the king expressed gratitude for Virgil’s attempts to save Logan’s life and asked him what he desired as a reward. Virgil said that he and Logan wished to marry. The king raised Virgil from a viscount to an earl, gave Virgil back his father’s land, and permitted the marriage. They married a month later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Loosely based on this art.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

cats and babies

This is the first piece I’ve ever written so if anyone sees this be nice pls and thank u

There could be typos/ weird formatting, this was typed entirely on my phone

I also feel the need to say all of my medical knowledge is from Grey’s anatomy and googling things I saw on grey’s anatomy so this is probably not that accurate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Word count: 6,160

Warnings: Car accidents, blood, angst (but with a v happy ending ofc bc sad endings are Not For Me), hospitals/medical stuff, again a very happy ending, I would like to emphasize the happy ending so no one gets scared away from reading this, did I mention there’s a happy ending?

"So, what'd'ya say? Chinese?"

They were deciding where to go for dinner after a long day of touring their favorite art museums. Harry and Y/N had been dating about two years now, and (cheesy as it sounds) they loved each other more and more every day. 

"Chinese sounds great," Y/N smiled, glancing over at Harry. The golden sun reflected off his curls, making him look absolutely angelic. 

He smiled, which turned into a chuckle, which turned into full blown laughter. She was confused. "What is it?" What's so hilariou- eyes on the road!!" 

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed. "Nothing, just- do you-" he breathed slowly, calming down a bit. "Do you remember the first time we had Chinese food? She blushed, laughing with him at the memory. 

Their first date had been... disastrous, to say the least. They had both been nervous, but both trying to act confident. They had decided on a nice, fancy, black tie restaurant, and Y/N was excited. When he picked her up in a limousine, she was hardly unable to contain herself.

However, their plan fell apart almost from the beginning. When they got to the place, a big red sign read "CLOSED FOR REPAIRS"

"Ooook... that's... weird," Y/N had grimaced. "What should we do now?" 

"Uh... we could... try the one a few blocks over? Yeah, that's a good place too, I know the owner. He always has a table for me. That'll work!"

Y/N hasn't quite cared about the wrench thrown into their plans. She really liked Harry so far, and she though he liked her too. So she chirped "Sure! Sounds great."

She hadn't noticed how embarrassed he looked when he opened the car door for her. He couldn't believe his luck! He was finally on a date with a girl he really liked, really wanted to impress, and the best restaurant in town closed with no notice? How could this happen? But he shook it off, climbing in after her and alerting the driver of their change of plans. 

When they got to the next place, Harry immediately got worried. It looked very crowded, and while the owner usually held a table for Harry, it didn't seem so tonight. 

He pulled out his phone.

"Hey, Luke! Yeah, I'm great! Listen, do you by any chance have a table-" He paused, and then his face fell. His voice kept its happy tone, though. "No, no problem at all, I understand. Yeah, for sure, a different night. Thank you!" He hung up, looking more than a little dejected. 

Y/N put a hand on his arm. "It's ok, I promise. I swear I didn't just agree to go out with you for the fancy food. We can go anywhere, 'Im really not upset!" 

"Agh, thank you. You're very sweet. But really, you deserve a fancy place. Only it seems everyone in the world is determined to make sure we don't get to do that," He huffed. "Maybe..." And he pulled out his phone again. He glanced at her curious face. "How do you feel about Chinese?" He asked sheepishly.

  Y/N beamed. "I love it," and there was no trace of insincerity on her face. 

"Right then, Chinese it is!" he found the closest place on his phone, telling the driver the address.

After a few minutes of eating, Y/N looked around the table for a fork. She could handle big foods, like the chicken, with the chopsticks, but definitely not the rice. 

Harry asked what she needed. She was a bit embarrassed to tell him she wasn't good enough with chopsticks to eat her rice, but he was kind about it. He helped show her how to use them without making too big of a mess. Still, she dropped half her plate on a napkin in her lap. 

At the end of their meal, Y/N burst out laughing when she picked up her napkin. Harry looked at her, confused, until she placed what was basically a full serving of rice on the table. He was also unable to contain his laughter, to which Y/N responded by throwing a few grains of rice at him. 

He threw a balled up napkin at her, and she blew a straw wrapper in his face. This escalated until she splashed what was left of her water glass on him. There was stunned silence for a moment, and Y/N thought she went too far. Then he looked at her and burst into laughter. She sighed in relief, laughing with him. "I'm sorry, that was too much," but she couldn't keep the smile off her face at the sight of the water dripping down his face.

"A little water never hurt anyone," he said, his eyes twinkling as he splashed her with his own water. 

Y/N was pulled from the happy memory of their first date when the car skidded on the ice. 

"Careful... if I'd known it was this slippery we'd have found a closer place," she said nervously.

"Nah, we've talked about this, the only good place is the one two towns over. I understand you love Minnesota and all but it is NOT the best place to find good Chinese food," he smirked.

"I will not have this Minnesota slander, not in this house. Maybe you're the issue, with your sophisticated taste and all," Y/N said, laughing at his disgruntled look. "Sophisticated? I took you for Chinese food on our first date. Nothing about that screams "sophisticated" to me." 

"Yeah, but we were dressed VERY fancy. That counts," Y/N laughed. 

"Oh really? that's what makes me sophisticated? alright then, you're right, I'm, extremely-" 

The car slid just a little too far for Y/N's liking. 

"Harry, are you sure it's safe to be driving on this? I think it's getting worse, and- look, it's starting to rain." She checked the weather on her phone. "Yeah, it's at that weird temperature where it's halfway freezing. The road will be worse on the way back." 

"I think we're ok," He reassured her. "The car has 4 wheel drive, and I'll go slow. I think the biggest danger is us not getting our Chinese food," he smiled at her. "Uh, no," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "I'd say the biggest danger is crashing and dying in a firey car wreck." 

"Always so negative, Y/N," Harry laughed. "We're perfectly fine-" he spoke too soon, because right then the car slid again. A lot, this time. They almost slid right through a stop sign. 

Y/N clutched the armrest. 

"We're almost there, you better not kill me before I get my Chinese food, Styles. I finally know how to eat rice with chopsticks without..." She stopped halfway through her sentence because she was laughing so hard. "Without... dropping all of it on my lap." 

They dissolved into giggles, especially when Harry said, "got any more water to throw at me?" 

The car slid once more, and Y/N felt her pocket nervously. She had bought a ring for Harry. It was nothing too special, but it was the one year anniversary of the first time they had gone to an art museum together. She wanted to commemorate that with something special, so she had gone to the museum gift shop and found the perfect ring. It had a silver band, a little thinner than the rest of his, and a labradorite stone set into it. She thought it would complement his other jewelry nicely. 

She kept her hand on the little box in her pocket, careful not to make Harry suspicious. 

He wasn't looking at her, though; he was completely focused on the road. His hands gripped the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Y/N felt a little more nervous seeing this. Harry was an excellent driver, and he usually had one hand on the wheel and the other holding hers. He only gripped the wheel this tightly when he felt unsafe driving. 

Y/N looked out at the darkening sky. She was not a fan of storms, especially ones that make the roads icy. Like a true Minnesotan, she knew that under the right circumstances, a bit of rain could make it nearly impossible to drive.

A car sped past them, almost veering into their lane when it went over a particularly icy patch. 

"Harry, really, I don't know if we should keep going," Y/N said nervously.

"I know, but I'm not sure what we should do. I think it's safer to just keep going and hope the rain stops. We're about 10 minutes away, but if we turn around it's almost a 2 hour drive." 

"Yeah... you're right. It's better to just keep going. Just... go slow," Y/N said, biting the inside of her cheek. 

"Stop doing that," Harry chided in a singsong voice. 

"How can you even tell? you weren't even looking at me," Y/N laughed. 

"I know how you are when you're nervous, Y/N. Biting your cheek won't do anything but hurt." 

Y/N smiled. She had never had someone care this much about her. Someone who knew her this well, almost better than she knew herself. She was so hopelessly in love... 

She was so busy thinking about what she would say when she gave him the ring that she didn't hear the horn blaring. She looked up just in time to see the truck driving straight down the middle of the road towards them. 

She could tell instantly the driver of the truck couldn't do anything. He was sliding on the ice like they had before. Harry jerked the wheel to the right, moving the car out of the way. 

It wasn't enough.

Y/N heard a horribly loud crashing noise, and then there was nothing. 

Y/N shot straight up out of the bed she was in, gasping. Someone put their hands on her shoulders, trying to soothe her and get her to lay back down. She pushed the hands away as her vision came into focus. She was in a room filled with people and noise and 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦.

She panicked for a minute before she realized where she was. Clearly an Emergency Room. There were 4 doctors and nurses around her, checking her eyes, ears, reflexes, pulse, breathing. She threw her arms out to try and get some space. One of the nurses caught her hand, holding it in both of hers. 

"Y/N, you're alright. You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident. Do you have any pain? Whe-"

"Harry! Where's Harry?? I need to see him, I have to, I have to go-" She stuttered as she pushed the doctors away from her, trying to get up again.

  The same nurse held her back.

"Y/N, we need to make sure you're ok before you can get up. If you let us help, you'll be able to see Harry sooner. Can you lay back? Do you have any pain?"

  "No, no I'm fine, I'm ok! I need to see Harry, I need to know if he's ok! Please!" Y/N looked frantically around at the doctors, hoping one of them knew something. 

The doctor who appeared to be in charge ordered, "Someone go get an update on the guy they brought in with her. See how he's doing." 

"Thank you, thank you so much," Y/N breathed, finally laying back. 

"There we go. Do you have any pain Y/N?" The nurse asked again. 

"No, I'm totally fine. I'm- " Y/N brushed her hair out of her face. When are brought her arm down, she saw that her hand was covered in blood. "I'm bleeding!" She cried, panicking. 

"It's ok, it's not too bad," one of the doctors said, examining her head. "It looks like it'll need maybe 5 or 6 stitches. We can fix that up right away." 

Y/N closed her eyes. How had this happened? Harry moved the wheel, she knew he did. How had they crashed this badly? 

The doctor who had been sent to check on Harry came back into the room. Y/N snapped her eyes open, looking at her expectantly.

"He is stable. That's the important thing right now. However, he's been pretty badly injured. He broke his femur and clavicle. He has a small brain bleed, and he is covered in cuts from the glass. He's also pretty bruised from the airbag and seatbelt. He is intubated, because he was having some trouble breathing. He might need surgery to repair the brain bleed, but right now they're waiting and hoping it will get better on it's own." 

Y/N exhaled. "But... he's ok? I mean... he's alive?" 

The doctor smiled. "Yes. He's doing ok." 

Y/N finally allowed herself to breathe. She noticed she was crying but she didn't do anything to wipe her tears away. 

"Ok, Y/N," said the doctor stitching up her face. "I'm finished here. You need to stay here for a little while longer so we can monitor you. There is an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated. If you need anything, call for a nurse. Also, and this is important, don't get out of this bed without someone helping you. You've been through a lot today, but the adrenaline is wearing off, which might make you feel shaky. Do you need anything right now?" 

"No, I'm... I'm fine. Thank you," Y/N said, wiping her eyes. 

After he left her bed, she felt her pocket. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the ring still there. Then she mentally kicked herself for being worried about a silly ring when Harry was... no. She wouldn't let herself think that. Harry was 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦. They were both alive, and they were both ok.

About an hour later, a nurse came in. After confirming that she felt totally fine, Y/N anxiously asked when she could see Harry. 

"I'm sorry, the ICU is family only," The nurse said. She really did look sorry, but this did nothing to make Y/N feel better. 

"I- I'm his wife!" Y/N said quickly, not even thinking. She most definitely was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 his wife. She wasn't even his fiancee. She slipped the ring from her pocket onto her finger, then held up her hand to the nurse. 

The nurse pretended not to notice the fact that the ring hadn't been there before, and that the ring was easily a size too big. "Oh! Then of course you can see him," She said, helping Y/N off the bed slowly. "I'll take you to his room." 

"Thank you so much," Y/N said, taking her first few steps slowly. 

"Careful- you're still attached to this IV pole," The nurse said, adjusting the tubing so it wasn't in her way. "You can hold onto it for support- yes, just like that." 

Y/N got more nervous with every step towards Harry's room. What would he look like? Would he be in pain? Would he know who she was? Would he... be mad at her? 

When she walked into his room, she almost started crying all over again. He looked, well, awful. He was covered in cuts and bruises. He had several tubes and wires connected to him, as well as a large tube taped in his mouth. He had a cast on his leg and a sling on his arm.

Y/N looked at the nurse who was taking his vitals. 

"How is he?" She asked in a small voice. 

"He's ok for now. He is stable, which is very good. He's unconscious, but we hope to see him wake up soon. You can sit with him, hold his hand, talk to him. If you need anything, just press the call button." 

She left, leaving Y/N and Harry alone. This time, she really did start crying. This was awful, and it was all her fault. She was the one who wanted to go for Chinese food. She was the one who picked today, the first wintery stormy day of the year to go for a long drive. And now.. 

"Harry... Harry I'm so sorry," Y/N said, sniffling. She held onto his hand, the one that wasn't attached to a broken collarbone.  "This is all my fault, and now you're... and I got off with nothing but a cut on my forehead, and it's not fair and I'm so sorry," She let out a sob. 

She continued on like this, crying and talking and crying some more, for a few hours, before she fell asleep in the chair next to him. She woke up around 9 the next morning with a stiff next and puffy eyes. She looked at his face, still covered in bruises, and kissed his hand. The nurse came in to check on him and told Y/N to go get some breakfast, reminding her that she couldn't care for Harry if she didn't care for herself. Y/N reluctantly agreed, going as fast as she could. The nurse had disconnected her IV sometime in the night, and she could move much faster without it. 

She got back to the room with her bagel and resumed her position in the chair right next to Harry. She talked to him as if he was awake, imagining she heard his beautiful voice responding to her. 

She had managed to keep the crying to a minimum today. She kept telling herself that if- no, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 Harry woke up, she didn't want to look like a monster with red eyes. 

Her phone had been found by some paramedics, so she found Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone online and began to read to him. It was a little weird, but Harry loved these books, especially when he was sick.

Y/N was used to just imagining she heard his voice with her in the room, but suddenly she heard something that wasn't her. She gasped. 

"He's choking!! Nurse!!" She yelled for help, frantically pushing the call button. "Help!" 

Several nurses rushed in. One ushered Y/N back and out of the room, telling her to give them space to work. 

"What's- What's happening? What are they doing??" Y/N tried to go back in, but the nurse held her shoulders. 

"He's trying to breathe over the tube, Y/N. That's a very good sign. It means he's breathing on his own," The nurse said, trying to keep Y/N calm. 

"Does- does that mean he's waking up?" Y/N asked, not wanting to get her hopes up. 

"Not for sure, but it's a very good sign."

After a few minutes, the nurses came out of Harry's room, looking excited. "Y/N, he's awake! He's very groggy and can't speak yet, but he is definitely awake. You can go in and sit with him again if you'd like. We gave him some more medicine for the pain, so you have about 15 minutes to talk before he starts going a little..." She made a swirling motion next to her head. 

Y/N didn't care if he was high on morphine. She just cared that he was alive and awake and didn't... hate her. 

Harry was laying in the bed, looking at her with great concern in his tired eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no noise came out. Y/N rushed over to take his hand. 

"It's ok, they said you might not be able to talk for a little while yet. It's ok, I'm here, it's ok," Y/N said, smoothing his hair. 

Harry cleared his throat, coughing. He gestured toward the water cup on his side table. 

"Oh, of course." Y/N picked up the pitcher and poured him a glass, setting it in his good hand. 

He raised the straw shakily to his lips as   Y/N watched carefully to make sure he didn't spill. She gently lifted the cup out of his hands when he held it up to her.

His small smile was enough to make Y/N cry all over again.

"Oh, Harry," She cried, holding her head in her hands. "It's all my fault. I'm so sorry this happened, I did this to you- you almost died!" 

"W-what?"

Y/N whipped her head up. "You can talk?" She said, overjoyed.

Harry coughed and spoke again. "Of course I can talk." 

His voice was rough and it sounded like it hurt everytime he spoke, but it was the most beautiful thing Y/N had ever heard. 

"What are you talking about, it's all your fault?" He rasped, looking utterly confused. "What even happened?" 

With tears leaking from her eyes, Y/N explained all she knew, which still wasn't much. Harry remembered everything as she told him, both their eyes watering as her voice shook.

"Why... why're you crying? Does your forehead hurt? I can call the nurse..." He reached for the call button.

"No, no, I'm ok," She took his hand in hers. "I'm just so sorry, because it honestly is my fault, I'm the one who wanted Chinese food and picked 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 of all days to drive 2 hours away and-" 

He cut her off by raising his finger to her lips. 

"It's not your fault... it's mine. I'm the one who convinced you the only good Chinese food is so far away and I'm the one who was driving. I couldn't keep you safe..." 

Harry had never looked so sad. 

"No!" Y/N exclaimed. "Do you not see me right now? I'm absolutely fine, you did keep me safe. You swerved out of the way... wait a minute," She paused, realization hitting her. "You didn't think we could avoid the truck at all, did you? You knew it would hit us either way, but you made sure it would hit as far from me as possible." 

Harry looked down. "I figured you're more important than me, I had to do what I could."

"Harry Styles!" Y/N whisper-yelled. "If you weren't so 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 I would 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬 you right now! How could you do that? How could you put yourself in 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 like that?" 

"Oh, that's actually why I got so injured, because I knew you'd try to hit me for this," He smiled charmingly at Y/N. She just scowled. 

"Did you really expect me to just say, "oh well, guess she's a goner! bye Y/N! nice knowin' ya!" No, of course not. Of course I'd put myself in danger for you. Always." 

Y/N's lip trembled. "Why do you have to be so romantic after you do such stupid things? it makes it really hard to stay mad at you," She said, wiping her eyes. 

"Yeah, that was the goal there," He laughed. 

Then he caught sight of the ring on her finger.

"That's pretty, when did you get that?" He mock gasped. "Did you get engaged while I was in a coma?" 

“No," Y/N laughed. "It's funny actually. I bought it from the museum gift shop. I wanted to give it to you as a present, for the anniversary of the first time we went there together. I was going to give it to you over Chinese food, and it was going to be 𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 and 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘪𝘤 and 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭." 

Harry smiled. "That's lovely of you, darling. Why... why's it on your finger though?" 

"Oh! right." Y/N sheepishly pulled the ring off her finger. "They wouldn't let me see you because I'm not family, so I threw it on and said we were married," She said, blushing furiously. "Sorry about that." 

Harry smiled. "Why are you sorry?" 

"Um... we're 𝘯𝘰𝘵 married... so... I don't know, I just thought you might think it's weird, or, something..."  Y/N finished lamely. She held the ring out to him. 

"Happy anniversary." 

"Why don't you keep it?" 

"Right, of course, you don't need a reminder of this day," Y/N slipped the ring back into her pocket, on the verge of tears because she messed up 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

"No, that's not... I meant, why don't you keep it... on your finger?" 

She pulled the ring out of her pocket again, looking confused. "Why?" 

Harry plucked it out of her hand, holding it up to her. "Because I want you to marry me," He said, slipping it onto her finger with the sweetest smile she had ever seen. 

Y/N smiled at him. "It's ok, Harry, you're very high on all the painkillers right now. I won't hold you to anything you say," She laughed a little. 

"I'm not... why would I be on painkiller... oh yeah," Harry grinned, looking around. "I remember why I'm high right now." 

"Riiight." 

"I might be high, but I still want to marry you," he said is a singsong voice. 

Y/N laughed. "Harry, why don't we talk about this when you're sober, ok?"

Harry pouted. "Please? Please marry me? I love you, and you're so pretty, and you're so nice to animals..." He started crying, apparently at how nice Y/N was to animals. "And... a cat! We can get a cat together!" 

"Harry, baby, don't cry, of course we can get a cat," She gently wiped the tears from his bruised face. 

"I won't stop crying until you say you'll marry me," Harry said defiantly, gripping    Y/N's arm. "Pleeeaaase?" 

"Ok, Harry, yes, I will marry you. Sure. You can stop crying now, ok?" 

"That's good, I'm glad, because you're my favorite person, and I looooove you, and you're my baaaaby..." 

At this point Harry was just singing random words, usually circling back to "baaaaby" and "looooove youuuu". 

Y/N felt happy for the first time in what felt like years, while really it had been less than 24 hours. 

Eventually, he wanted to see the ring again. Y/N held up her hand and he gasped. 

"It's so beautiful! I'll buy you a real one though, a real ring for our real wedding. Then we'll get a real house and have real babies, and a real cat," He said, with the dopiest grin Y/N had ever seen. 

"Oh? We'll have babies, huh? How many babies will we have?" 

"3," He answered quickly. "Two girls and a boy. No... 4. Two of each. That way they won't team up one of them." 

"Oh, sounds like you've thought about this a lot," Y/N laughed.

  "Every single day since we started dating, you know why?" 

"Why?" 

He motioned for her to lean closer.

  "Because I looooove you," He sang in her ear.

She pulled back, kissing his swollen cheek. 

"You're a sweetheart," She said affectionately. 

"So're you," He smiled. 

"I kind of like drugged Harry," Y/N laughed. "He's very cute." 

"Drugged Harry also likes drugged Harry, he feels like he's floating." 

"Oh, so drugged Harry talks about himself in the third person?" 

"He does now!" Harry smiled at her again. "Drugged Harry is tired... he's just going to..." 

Then the monitors started beeping rapidly. Several nurses ran in, bustling around and shouting various medical terminology. Another nurse ushered Y/N out of Harry's room for the second time that day. 

"No! No, I need to stay with him! I can't-"

"Shh... it's alright. They're going to do everything they can to help him. You have to let them help him. Why don't we go to the waiting room?"

Y/N exhaled shakily. If she couldn't stay with Harry, she might as well sit instead of hovering around the corner. 

"Yes, let's go to the waiting room," She said, after a few deep breaths. 

Y/N had been sitting on the waiting room for what felt like an eternity, but a glance at her phone told her it had only been 45 minutes. 

A woman in a surgical gown approached her, and Y/N stood up quickly. "What happened?" She asked immediately.

"Unfortunately, your husband's brain bleed did not resolve itself like we had hoped. He is in surgery, and for right now he's doing well," the surgeon said, looking sympathetic. 

"Ok... why did the monitors freak out? Did his heart stop? Is he going to wake up from surgery?" 

"The monitors went off because his heart was having trouble, but they were able to resuscitate him through CPR and defibrillation. It's too soon to know if he will wake up, but the surgeon is hopeful. I will come back to update you as soon as I can."

"Ok, thank you," Y/N said, sinking back into her chair.

  She felt a pain in her chest, like real, actual pain. What would she do without Harry? How would she live with herself, knowing he died trying to save her? 

She caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger and choked back a sob. Would she tell people she was engaged? No, of course not. Harry had been completely out of his mind when he'd asked her. 

She slumped down in her chair, wanting to curl up and cry. Instead, she called her mom. Through her tears, she explained everything that happened. 

"Oh, honey," Her mom sighed. "I'm so sorry. I'm on my way. I'll be there in about 7 hours, I'm sorry it'll take so long. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?"

  "No, I can't," Y/N sniffled. "I have to call Harry's family."

  "Do you want me to do that? I wouldn't mind, they're-"

"No, mom, thank you, but I should. I- I'm going to go. Love you," Y/N said, hanging up the phone. 

Checking her phone, Y/N realized it was the middle of the night in London where Harry's family lived. She didn't think she should wait, so she called Anne without another thought. 

"Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry. We're getting the soonest flight. We won't be there until tomorrow morning. Will you be alright alone? Is your mother coming?" 

"Yes, my mom's on her way. I'm ok, thank you," Y/N said, rubbing her eyes. 

After she hung up the phone, it set in just how exhausted she was. She had slept poorly the night before, because of the awkwardness of sleeping in a chair and because she was so, so, worried for Harry.

She drifted into a fitful sleep where she dreamed of cars crashing, rings flying around, and Harry standing just out of her reach. He was like a rainbow, the closer she got to him, the more he faded. 

She startled awake and realized there were tears on her face. She checked her phone, seeing that it had only been 3 hours.  

She saw the same woman from before approaching her, this time wearing just scrubs. 

Y/ N stood to meet her. 

"Harry is out of surgery and doing well. We were able to repair the brain bleed. His heart stopped on the table," Y/N gasped at this, "But we were able to get him back. His ribs will be very sore and possibly even broken. All that aside, he is doing well, Mrs. Styles, and you can see him now," She said, Leading Y/N to the elevator. 

Her breath trembled as they walked towards his room. 

Harry was laying in his bed, looking like a fragile child. Even though he was so much bigger than her, right now he seemed so... small. 

Y/N looked at the nurse, asking to sit with him. She nodded and explained that two of his ribs were fractured and his collarbone would hurt him a lot when he woke up. 

Y/N held his hand with a featherlight touch, unwilling to jostle him even the smallest bit. 

After about an hour of her reading to him, she felt a small movement, barely even noticeable. Was it...?

She felt another movement. This time she was sure of it. He was squeezing her hand.

"I'm here Harry, I'm right here," She soothed,  moving her chair closer to him.

  He groaned sleepily before opening his emerald eyes and looking at her.

  "Hi," he smiled, squeezing her hand again. 

"Hi," Y/N said, crying more than a little bit. 

"What... did... are you ok?" Harry's brow furrowed. He seemed to have a hundred questions, but he settled on asking how she was. 

"Yes, Harry, I'm ok. How do you feel?" 

"Hurts," he said, closing his eyes. "But if you're ok, so am I." 

Y/N kissed his hand. "I see drugged Harry is still here? The one that is 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 cute and sweet?" 

"No, he's not. This is just regular Harry. I can tell because everything 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 hurts," He said with a small grimace.

"Oh, I'll get the nurse. They'll give you something," Y/N started to get up, but Harry's grip on her hand tightened. 

"Wait," he said pulling her back to him. "Before they make me go all loopy, I just want to say-" He paused, looking at the ring on her finger. "I love you, to my fiancee. I think it counts more when I'm not high." 

"Your- your fiancee? Harry, I told you I wouldn't hold you to anything you said before. You weren't in your right mind at all, I didn't even think you'd remember saying all that." 

"Yeah, but I remember asking you to marry me and you said yes. You might not be holding me to anything I said, but I'm holding you to that," He grinned. "You really want to deny a dying man his last... dying... wish?" 

Harry flopped his good arm dramatically over his forehead, wincing at the motion. Y/N helped him slowly lower it again. 

"First of all, you're not dying. Secondly, I don't want you to go through with this because you feel obligated, or because you think I'll be upset if you aren't ready to propose. It's totally fine, I promise, but why don't we talk about this when you're feeling better?" 

"No, I feel fine," He insisted.

Y/N gave him a look. "Really? You do? Aren’t you the one who just needed help moving your arm?" 

"Irrelevant. I feel fine, like, mentally. If you don't think you're ready to be engaged to me, that's ok. But don't say no because you think I didn't mean it. I did, with every part of me. I love you, and I want you to be my wife." 

"...Really?" Y/N asked, cheeks heating up.

"Really," Harry smiled. 

"And according to drugged Harry, you want to have a cat and 4 children." 

Harry laughed, wincing immediately.

"Don't make me laugh, my chest really hurts," He said, still holding her hand. 

"Sorry, sorry, they said you have some broken ribs. Also your collarbone. Also your femur. Geez, Styles, you're kind of a mess," You laughed. 

"Yeah, really," He smiled. "But seriously, will you? Will you be my wife?" 

"Of course I will, Harry. I love you so much, of course I will," Y/N said, gently kissing his cheek. 

"Great," Harry beamed at her. "Now that we've worked that out, can you get the nurse? Drugged Harry is ready to make a comeback." 

"Oh, right, sorry," Y/N said, reaching over for the call button. 

The nurse came in, giving Harry more medicine. 

"You'll start to have some relief within a few minutes," She said, leaving them alone again.  

"One more thing Y/N," Harry said. She could already tell he was a little more relaxed. "I have to get you a ring!" 

Y/N smiled, holding up her hand. "I already have one, remember?" 

Harry waved her hand away. "No, no, a bride can't buy her own ring! What kind of... chivalrous... gentleman... would I be if I didn't buy you a beautiful ring?" 

"Ok, Harry, as soon as you get out of here, we'll go ring shopping," Y/N promised. 

"And... to the cat shelter? You said we could get a cat... a kitty, a cat, a little kitty cat..." 

Harry had started singing mumbled words about cats and love and babies. Y/N knew it was going to be a long night. Still, she had never been happier.

[electr4-st4r]

Stay A Little Longer (Itadori Yuuji x Reader)

Word Count: 1,807 words

Summary: Itadori somehow convinces you to have a movie night, but you fall asleep in the middle of it and late night shenanigans ensues.

Warnings: Aside from falling asleep in the same bed by accident and being super close to one another, not much to be warned of. Beware if you fear intimacy, I guess?

A/N: This ended up being so much longer than I was going for, but I love Itadori with all my heart. I have plans for “short” fic for Megumi and a little piece for Gojo so hopefully if I make progress on my homework, I can get to that. Enjoy!

Itadori was going to be the death of you. You knew from the moment he had waltzed into your life that he would make a difference. You knew you couldn’t come out of it without change. You would never be the same after him.

Slowly but surely, Itadori broke down your walls, encouraged you to push your limits, and somehow managed to convince you to do things you never dreamed of.

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament.

The circumstances were innocent enough: it was only meant to be a simple movie night. Fushiguro and Kugisaki had also been invited, but both of them declined, something about not wanting to intrude. You would have turned down the offer as well, but something about the passion in Itadori’s eyes as he rambled on and on about those cheesy movies made you hold your tongue. Maybe he knew the effect he had on you, but you weren’t sure Itadori was the type to manipulate you into doing what he wanted; you’ve experienced enough of that in your life to tell. What could go wrong? It was innocent enough.

Of course, you would eat those words eventually.

The clock had barely struck eight when you arrived at Itadori’s dorm. Polite commentary was nervously exchanged before Itadori ushered you to his bed where you two settled. Throughout the course of the first movie, the both of you would brush against the other’s shoulder, causing you to collectively jump out of your skins. After the fifth time, you both accepted that it was the price to pay for the tiny bed you two attempted to share. As the night dragged on, you two found yourself slowly reclining until you were lying down. It had been much more comfortable than sitting up, which is why you must’ve fallen asleep shortly after because by the time you wake up, a new movie drones on in the background.

With the only light being the blue glow of the screen and the faint streams of moonlight that pour in through the window, you find yourself opening your phone, which informs you it is half past two in the morning. Grogginess still eats at your consciousness and you’re tempted to close your eyes once again and sleep when you suddenly feel a weight wrapped around you.

Panic shakes you awake and you force your eyes to adjust to your surroundings, only to be met with the shape of Itadori’s sleeping figure.

He takes your breath away sometimes, without even trying. Your limbs are entangled and his arms are wrapped securely around your body. Heat begins to form on your cheeks as you realize how close he is to your face. You can make out the two marks on his cheeks and you resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

Reality doesn’t allow you the time to indulge in his glory. It firmly reminds you of your situation and the possible consequences if you were to be found by one of the adults. Sure, you weren’t a goodie goodie that always followed the rules, but you didn’t know what was worse: having to deal with Yaga-san or Gojo (as sad as it was, you would pick the latter). A minute or two passes before you can psych yourself up to move. You do everything in your power to prevent waking up Itadori as you begin to maneuver out of his arms.

The grip around you tightens suddenly and you hold back a grasp as you come face to face with Itadori, “Where are you going?”

“It’s late,” You know he can’t see your blush in the dark, but you instinctively look away, “I should get back to my room.”

“Stay,” Itadori yawns.

A smile breaks out across your face and you laugh to yourself, “You must be half asleep, Itadori-san.”

“What are you talking about? I’m totally awake right now,” He says and despite the fact that you can’t see his face well, you can tell he’s sporting a toothy grin. You reach out and grab a handful of his cheeks, giving each a little pinch, “Ouch! Quit it! I’m seriously awake!”

His eyes flutter open and his face contorts into a slight grimace. Pouting does little to deter you and fits of giggles bubble up from your chest before you can stop them. Itadori’s frown never stood a chance against your laughter. The moment he heard your beautiful voice, he joins you. When you finally calm yourself, you can’t help but run a finger over each of his marks.

Sometimes, you can’t believe Itadori’s luck. How could someone as sweet as Itadori be harboring one of the worst cursed spirits in history? Even as you gaze at him, he was all you could see.

“What are we doing, Itadori-san?”

He only smiles at you, “Looks like a mix between cuddling and twister.”

“No, I mean,” You take a breath, hoping the fresh air would prepare you for the leap you were about to take, “What are we?”

“Us?” Itadori squawks. For a moment, he pulls away from your grip and looks around at the room. You could practically see the wheels turning in his brains. He speaks slowly when he gives you the answer, “We’re friends.”

A direct hit. You can’t deny that you walked into that. What were you expecting him to say? It isn’t as if he would just suddenly confess to you. The heat returns, but it is no longer the giddy warmth that had engulfed you moments before. Instead it was the burn of embarrassment that begged you to pull away, distance yourself, pretend that nothing happened. But Itadori does not allow you to get up. He holds you in place and coaxes you to look back at him. Once he has your attention, he continues.

“Would I want to be something more? Absolutely. But only if that’s what you want,” Itadori leans closer and looks you in the eyes, “Why’d you look so worried? You should know I like you! Everyone knows it!”

You smack him in the chest, “I didn’t know!”

“Well now I’m telling you,” Itadori says a matter-of-factly. He scoots even closer, close enough for your foreheads to touch and holds your gaze, “We don’t get to choose when we die…”

“You’re confessing to me and you’re going to bring up death?” You joke, but the nervousness prevails in your voice.

“Let me finish!” Itadori groans, gaining a silent nod from you, “I don’t know when I’m going to die. I’m not strong enough currently to get to choose when and how I’ll die. And that scares me sometimes.”

The desperation in his voice pains you. You can only imagine the pressure he must be dealing with. How it must’ve felt to suddenly be thrusted into this lifestyle. Your upbringing wasn’t the easiest; no jujutsu sorcerer has a happy childhood and ends up in this line of work. But while you had your entire life to cope and adjust, Itadori has had to experience all of it within a matter of months. You wish to comfort him in some way and the only solution you can muster is to pull him closer and nudge him. He seems to appreciate the gesture as a smile breaks out across his face.

“There are times when I think… ‘if I’m going to die, I should take advantage of life: go places, do things, maybe pick up a girl or two along the way.’”

You aren’t really the jealous type, but the thought of another girl at Itadori’s side makes you squirm. Itadori instantly scolds you, “Hey, let me finish before you go upsetting yourself.”

“I’m not upset,” You mutter dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you aren’t,” Itadori laughs, waiting for you to look back at him before he goes on, “But when I look at you, all of that goes away and it’s just… you. I want nothing else but you.”

Then you are both staring at each other. It’s quiet, the only sound disturbing the air being the crickets chirping outside. Itadori looks down at your lips and back up at you.

“Can I kiss you now?”

You must have been grinning like an idiot, but you didn’t care. Happiness was bubbling out of you and you could hardly contain it, “What are you waiting for?”

This definitely wasn’t your first kiss, but you hoped it’d be your last for nothing compared to it. There were no fireworks or butterflies in your stomach. In fact, the kiss didn’t invoke any sort of bodily reaction on your part. And yet, it felt as if the world was standing still. The only thing that you could feel, think of, mattered was Itadori.

You didn’t think that the two of you could possibly get any closer, but Itadori found a way to draw you further into him. It felt right, as if you were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally come together. He places his hands on the back of your neck and waist, almost as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll float away. Had it not been for the need for air, there is no doubt you would have stayed that way, but you come up for air, gazing back at him in a mixture of shock and glee.

When Itadori quells his uneven breathing, he speaks, “To answer your question, I’ll be whatever you want me to be: a friend, a lover, a toy. Second option sounds pretty good, but I won’t push my luck,” The joke earns him a playful smack to the chest, but he has no complaints. He’s swimming in you and nothing could make him happier, “As long as I get to be by your side.”

You pretend to give it some thought. When you receive an unimpressed groan, you pull him closer, “I like the sound of ‘lovers’, lovers sounds nice.”

“Lovers it is,” Itadori hums.

Silence returns and you both willingly sit in it, the atmosphere you had created being too comfortable to entertain any discomfort. You feel safe, for once in your life. It had been a while since you felt this way, but you’re glad it’s with Itadori.

The quiet goes on for too long and you attempt to make your escape.

“As sweet as your little speech was,” You say as you begin to pry yourself out of his grasp so that you can sit up, “I should go back to my room,”

“No!” Itadori pulls you back down and you let out a tiny shrill of surprise. Pressure remains wrapped around you and even after you struggle for a bit, you know you can’t beat Itadori and his ungodly strength, “Stay a little longer?”

You smile, “I’d stay forever if you asked me.”

[sweetestlamb]

Caged Bird

Summary: “I should let him go right?” 

Author’s note: Finally back with another chapter, this one was a bit harder for me than the other chapters because writer’s block was a bish and I kept second guessing myself. I erased so many things and I don’t know if I am even proud of this anymore or if it’s any good LOL but I spent all day writing it so I guess I should post it. I’m not losing motivation but life was beating on my door and I feel like this wasn’t as fleshed out as I wanted it to be but I don’t have the time to flesh it out more and I really didn’t want to go another week without writing, it makes me anxious to leave them unattended for so long.  So if you like anything about this let a girl now. 

“You told him?” Sujin glances over at Su-ah from her place on her bed, her phone idle on the bed, she’s trying not to text a certain someone too much but that is proving easier said then done with him messaging her without any discretion or care about appearances. 

Jukyeong looks knowingly at her phone with a soft smile and she hides the small square too embarrassed even though they hadn’t been talking about anything inappropriate, he was teasing her that she wore his sweaters more than he did these days and asking her if she wanted to go shopping with him so she could pick out exactly which sweater she wanted to steal borrow. She rolls her eyes at the dramatic message, she didn’t take that many of his sweaters, he was just overexaggerating as he was wont to do. She folds the sleeve of her borrowed(thank you very much) sweater over her hands and pointedly avoids looking at the vibrating device. 

She has self control. 

But a second vibration makes her flaunter for a minute, wondering if he’s saying something important he hardly ever double texts these days. She reaches for the phone gasping when it’s suddenly snatched out of her reach. 

“Hey-!” her voice trails off bashfully at the glower on Su-ah’s pretty face, that’s her take no shit face, damn. She sits up straighter giving the girl all her attention lest she become more agitated and try to read the messages, that would be too unsettling. They had both already commented on her recent oversized sweaters, coyly trying to get her to admit to who they truly belonged to. She ignored their teasing and jut her nose in the air each time, they already knew and she refused to give them the satisfaction of saying it out loud. 

“Focus on us for one minute. Your boyfriend can wait.” Su-ah states firmly putting her phone on the small desk behind her and she sputters at the comment, red hot flush barreling down her entire body like a wildfire. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” She denies vehemently, cheeks burning hotter from the nonplussed looks she receives from her two closest friends, Su-ah looks utterly unimpressed and Jukyeong can barely contain the smile spreading on her full lips, she opens her mouth to argue harder needing to smother the jolt of pure bliss that surfaced in her belly at the other girl’s bold proclamation but the words get firmly lodged in her throat. 

His hands tightly wound around hers, his thumb gently caressing the rough skin of her scarred knuckles. The way she didn’t want to pull away or hide from him, he was looking at her, truly seeing her and instead of fear something warmer spread through her veins. 

Those lips on her forehead, the softest sweetest kiss she had ever received in her life. Nobody had ever held her like she was something precious before but that was how he pressed her to his wide chest, her head nuzzled into his fragrant neck as she drowned in his intoxicating scent nervous to breathe him in too much lest she get lost in his spell. 

The deep rumble of his voice as he called her “baby”, she had always rolled her eyes hearing couples use such supercilious nicknames with each other, what was the point? Why did being in a couple have to mean that you lost your name and essentially a piece of your identity? It was stupid and childish and she wanted nothing to do with such a transgression, or so she had believed. 

Until the moment he called her princess. 

What started out as a tease had transformed into something bigger than she had ever expected, she hated it or so she told herself. But when he called her Sujin in the park she felt like a part of her was missing, she wasn’t just Sujin to him anymore. In that moment she had a grand realization she wasn’t losing herself like she had initially thought but rather gaining another layer, she would always be Sujin and that was enough but she could also be his princess, his baby.  

When had she turned into such a sap? This was all his fault. 

“Hello? Sujin? Are you even listening to me? Hey! Are you seriously fantasizing about your boyfriend right now?” She jumps at Su-ah’s loud voice, slapping a frantic hand over her mouth and looking around as if people will materialize out of thin air. 

“Can you stop saying that word, Suho might hear you!” She stage whispers and Su-ah raises a thin eyebrow at her shoving her hand away. 

“Why are you so red? Did something happen between you two, you can’t hide anything from us! What happened to “we’re just friends”? She blushes redder at Su-ah’s quotation marks and Jukyeong leans forward excitedly, “Have things changed? Did you tell him how you feel? Oh my god, did you guys...kiss?!”

Su-ah stills at Jukyeong’s question before vibrating violently in her seat and grabbing her shoulders shaking her back and forth, “Sujin did you lose your lip virginity? Did you let him deflower you?!” 

Sitting stunned and wide eyed, she stares at her friends expectant faces wondering how the conversation became derailed so quickly? She had invited them both over to explain the Baekyung situation and her conversation with Suho’s father but somehow Seojun had become the star of the night. 

“Are you crazy why would you call it that?” She immediately realizes her mistake when both girls turn to look at each other and simultaneously shriek, “She didn’t deny it!,” and she watches in horror as they jump up and starting dancing around the room, then she groans and tugs the hood of the sweater over her head pulling the drawstrings so she is cocooned in the fabric as they start singing off key, “Sujin kissed Seojun! Sujin kissed Seojun!” 

Instinctively she grabs a fluffy pillow and flings it across the room in a perfect arch before it lands with a soft thud on Jukyeong’s head, time stops as they all stare at each other and then it’s a flurry as the girl picks up the pillow launching it back and that is how Sujin gets involved in her first ever pillow fight. There are pillows flying every which way and Su-ah and Jukyeong gang up on her, shoving her into the bed and playfully smacking her on her stomach and back as she curls up in a ball body shaking from her laughter. 

“Tell us everything and we’ll stop hitting you.” Su-ah promises and she shakes her head in refusal, seconds later she feels a grazing on her sides and she knows what’s coming so she tries to draw away but her means of escape are thwarted by Jukyeong grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing her harder into the bed. 

“Su-ah please don’t. This is evil, I thought we were friends.” She pleads staring up at both with beguiling eyes and for a minute she thinks her puppy eyes have succeeded as both release her, but then she feels a barrage of hands on her side and laughter is forcefully pulled from her body as she twitches in a fit, twisting and turning from the hands but to no avail. She feels tears pooling in her eyes from the sensation and this is how Suho finds them, tangled up and breathless from laughter and he stares at them in shock. 

“When you guys are done...doing this can you please respond to Seojun? He thinks you suddenly got into an accident or got kidnapped because you stopped responding to him.” 

Su-ah turns to her with a look of triumph on her mischievous face, “That sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.” 

Suho doesn’t reply except for a twitch in his lip before he slides the door closed behind him, giving them privacy again. 

She tries not to rush to her phone but her eyes find their eye over to the device all the way across the room, maybe if she runs really quickly she can make it past the two girls and lock herself in the bathroom? 

“I know that look. Whatever crazy plot you’re cooking up is unnecessary, you can have your phone back. I know you two hate to be apart,” Su-ah teases leaning over and then handing her the phone, she stares at it worried that accepting it will be admittance to Su-ah’s claims she hesitates to take it. 

Su-ah takes the choice away from her when she places the phone in her outreached hands, “Don’t keep him waiting.” She holds the phone flat in her palms looking up at both her friends, they have identical smiles on their faces and warmth blossoms in her belly. 

She’s happy, this is what happiness feels like. 

But she’s also overwhelming nervous, she has never done this before, never had someone who made her feel this way. Was it supposed to be this terrifying? Putting the phone down resolutely she turns to her best friends needing their advice. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” She admits, feeling small and more than a little bit lost. Instantly she is squished in the middle as they both come to sit by her sandwiching her in between them, twin arms thrown over her shoulders. 

“We know you’re scared but he likes you, everyone can see that. When you’re in a room together it’s like he doesn’t see anyone else, you are always his focal point.” Jukyeong whispers softly placing her head on her shoulder and she wants to deny that but too many images flash in her mind of him doing just that, him dropping everything and racing to her even in the beginning when she had been a mess and constantly pushed him away. Intimate moments at lunch where his eyes hardly leave her as he ardently watches her eat the food that he had prepared just for her, despite countless girls watching him and squealing his name in the distance. 

Everyone had eyes for him, but he only had eyes for....her. 

“What if all of this becomes too much for him and he wants someone normal? Someone who doesn’t have all my baggage? Being with me must get exhausting.” She’s still talking about Seojun but a small piece of her is also directing this statement to them, was being her friend as exhausting? Did they ever consider just abandoning her and finding someone who didn’t have such tiresome issues? 

“You still don’t understand do you?” 

She turns towards Su-ah who blinks wet eyes at her and suddenly her eyes feel moist too. 

“Understand what?” 

“How much you mean to us. All of us. Nobody could ever replace you, we don’t care about your baggage, we want to help you carry it all.” 

She blinks and stares straight ahead, scared of breaking apart. 

Is that how Seojun felt too? Was she worth the trouble to him too? 

When had her life ever been so simple?

They all jump when her phone vibrates again and this time she doesn’t hesitate immediately picking it up, expecting to see another message from the boy in question but instead a new number appears. She stares blankly at first before suddenly recognizing the number. 

“Who’s that?” Su-ah questions, staring at her phone with pursed lips and she swipes the message open. 

Dinner tonight? 

It feels strange to see that message beneath Seojun’s and she finds herself closing it without responding and opening Seojun’s plethora of messages instead. 

I was just joking you can steal all my sweaters. 

Are you still there?

Princess?

Can you answer me so I know you’re alive? 

He is so dramatic, she doesn’t message him for ten minutes and he’s already thinking the worst but then she remembers all the times he has found her helpless and trembling in the rain and his fear makes more sense. Smiling in understanding she finally replies, I’m okay you worrywart. Su-ah and Jukyeong are here, I got distracted. 

ignoring social norm he responds to her immediately not the least bit concerned with appearing too invested. 

Don’t scare me like that. I was about to come over. 

“Sujin are you sure Seojun is okay with you going on dates with Baekyung, that’s who text you right?” Her head snaps up at the question, she bites her lip in consideration. 

“He said he understood. He knows I’m only doing it to help him. But tonight is the last time.” 

She shouldn’t be concerning herself with anyone else’s problems, hers were enough on their own. But she couldn’t help it, the other boy was going through the same ordeal as her and she saw herself in his cold numb eyes, he was existing instead of living. She knew what that felt like. She understood him all too well. 

“Why does he need your help?” Jukyeong asks innocently and she stills before shaking her head, “It’s not my story to tell.” 

They don’t ask anymore questions and she’s grateful for that. 

She has to get ready for her date, she can’t help but wish it was with someone else. She doesn’t even want to call it a date, now that she has someone that she wants to do this all with. 

She looks beautiful, she always does and he wonders if he might have genuinely liked her if they met under different circumstances? He had never learned what it meant to care for someone, too busy trying to survive but she understood him, they had so much in common. He didn’t like her-his heart wasn’t capable of such emotions he was convinced- but he felt a certain kinship that he’d never felt before with anyone else, maybe they were meant to met each other. 

Could she be his destiny? 

“I need to talk to you.” He stares at her across the table looking effortlessly elegant and he takes a sip of his water, something akin to dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Talk then,” he answers gruffier than he intended but he can see the apology on her face and his vicious side is making an appearance in anticipation of whatever she wants to say to him. She stares at him for a long time and he wonders if she is second guessing or simply searching for the right words, annoyance surges in the wake of her hesitation he is not some child who needs sugared words or placation. “Just say it already,” he says snarkily and her eyes harden at his harsh tone, that’s more like it he hates to be pitied. 

“This is our last...gathering. I can’t help you anymore. I am doing something about my situation and I think you should too.” 

Rage builds up in his veins until he can see nothing but red, he thought he finally found someone who understood but here she was judging him and already abandoning him and all for what, some pretty boy idiot who would never understand what it meant to struggle? They were two sides of the same coin and nobody could ever truly love them, how could she not see that? At birth they had been deemed unlovable by their own parents and there was no way to undo that fate, it was best to just accept the hand they had been dealt. 

“Do you think he really likes you?” He asks meanly sneering at her with a curled lip, this reminds him too much of Dan-oh, of that stinging rejection and the way she wanted nothing to do with him- too lost in her fucking precious Haru-ah and he can’t stop the vicious words that are falling from his mouth, “You’re just a charity case to him. Like a sick puppy he found outside, he doesn’t like you he just feels sorry for you. It’s pathethic.” 

The words land exactly how he intended. 

She looks angry but that fades to consternation and then doubt builds in her eyes and he knows he was successful, he has planted a seed of doubt in her mind and that will only manifest bigger and bigger until she cracks under the pressure.  

“You’re wrong.” She states but she doesn’t sound certain, he can hear the question at the end and he smiles mentally. He almost feels bad but then the image of the other boy smiling with his perfect family flashes in his mind and any guilt he feels melts away. Why should he have it all when he, Baekyung had nothing? 

“I’m not. You’re just a phase for him, he probably think he’s being nice pretending to like you. I’ve seen all those girls around him, why would he want someone whose weak broken and whose parents don't even want her? Don’t be naïve, it’s beneath you Sujin. People like us need to know our place.” 

He stifles the little voice in the back of his mind that questions why he’s pushing away someone who only wants to be free, why did she get to escape the prison that they both had been locked in for so many years? Why couldn’t she just accept that they didn’t deserve anyone else and just be with him? Why was he always the last possible choice? 

She doesn’t say another word, opening her wallet and throwing down enough money to cover the meal that hasn’t even been brought out yet. The cold look she shoots his way stops him from saying anything, he can see the hurt in her eyes and it’s twisted but he feels a tinge of satisfaction at her expression. 

He watches her walk away feeling no better than his father, when had he become such a monster and why didn’t it scare him more? 

What did that say about him? 

The sound of the doorbell echoes through the spacious house and she wonders if it’s Sujin, and that mere possibility is enough to make her race to the door before her husband can make his way from his seclusion in his study. Most day he didn’t even bother coming out and when he did he didn’t even acknowledge her, it was heaven but it also left her guarded waiting from him to explode and hit her. It was like living in a landmine, she walked lightly as to not be heard. 

The face on the other side of the door completely shocks her. 

Lee Joo-Hun stands there, looking determined and she stares blankly at him. It has been months since their families have shared a meal together, she saw his visible discomfort every time her husband would berate her or Sujin. Many people showed discomfort but few did anything to help them, it was human nature after all. 

Better you than me. 

She forces a brittle smile to form on her face. Playing the role of happy wife easily, its a role she has been cultivating for years. 

“Oh. I didn’t know you had plans with my husband today. Come on in.” She notices that there is a certain unexplained tension in his shoulders but after only a moment’s pause he nods before stepping over the threshold, slipping off his expensive loafers and not bothering to put on the slippers they have placed for guest. Maybe he doesn’t plan to stay for long. 

“I’ll go get him,” she says softly wanting to do nothing of the sort, she has not been on his radar as of late and she had every intention to keep things that way but she can’t show this to their guest. Her husband would be livid if she did anything to harm his relationship with someone he saw as a beneficial business partner. She’s unprepared for the hand that stops her, tight around her wrist she has to force herself not to flinch at the sudden touch. 

When she looks back, his eyes are wide and they penetrate through her and she snatches her hand back a fear rippling through her at his stare, he’s looking right through her like she’s made of glass. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes and she smiles nervously waving him off, “I was just surprised you didn’t do anything wrong.” But he’s peering at her like he knows everything racing through her mind and she has to glance away, it’s all a bit too much and suddenly the study door opens and all the air is siphoned from the room as her husband exits the room, his face changing quickly when he notices that they have a guest, she knows that the rage that first appeared will make return once they are alone again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that we had a guest?” The inquiry is said innocuously enough, he has long mastered repressing his rage in front of others but she can see the anger in his brows. 

Before she can answer, Joo-hun stands between them blocking her completely from her husband’s gaze. 

“Let’s talk.” Her husband raises a brow at the commanding tone and she can read him as easily as a book, he’s furious at being spoken to in such a tone but the other man doesn’t give him an opportunity to disobey because he’s already walking into the study. Her husband glares at her as if she is to blame before disappearing into the room and shutting the door in her face. 

Without a conscious thought she presses her ear against the door but the wood is solid and she can barely hear anything and she leans back about to admit defeat but then the voices raise becoming progressively louder and she hears her husband shout, tone bristling with fury, “How dare you threaten me in my own home!” and the loud booming voice of Joo-hun rings out, “You disgust me and I will do everything imaginable to make sure you end up where you belong.”

The temperature drops at those chilling words and she takes a step back at the sound of movement behind the door, once again coming face to face with the man.

His expression softens when he sees her but she can still see a glint of hardness beneath the surface. He had expressive eyes, they were part of the reason he had been such a celebrated actor. 

He knows. 

She’s certain now, he knows what a monster she is. 

If her husband deserves to suffer then so does she for everything she has done to her poor little girl, she was just as culpable if not more. If only she hadn’t been a coward and left when he first started hitting her, if only she had gone through with the abortion. She had selfishly brought a child into this world knowing that their life would be hell just like hers because she was scared to be alone. She wasn’t a mother, she wasn’t even fit to be called a human at this point and the look he gives her makes her feel like scum on the bottom of his shoe. 

“I’m leaving.” He announces walking back over to his shoes, and she had been right he wasn’t planning on staying long. 

A loud bang suddenly fills the empty void, her husbands scream are not too far behind as he flings books and whatever he can get his hands on into the walls. 

She knows what fate awaits her tonight. 

This is her punishment and it’s exactly what a stain like her deserves. 

She stares absently at the ground, the sound of the door knob turning reaching her ears and she knows that she’s going to be alone again. The door opens and she sighs, waiting to hear the door close knowing that in seconds she will be a whimpering mess on the ground. 

But the sound never comes, and she looks up to see what’s stopping him and his eyes are still hard but not as sharp. 

“Come with me.” 

She hears the word but the sentence does not compute and it takes a moment for her to process what he just said, her mind tells her that surely she heard him wrong. There’s no way he said what she thought he said. 

But then he reaches out a hand and she stares at his palm. 

“Why would you want to help me? I’m not a victim. I knew what he was doing, I knew everything and I did nothing. I am just as bad as him. She hates me too. I didn’t protect her.” 

It’s the truth, she lost the right of calling herself a victim as she watched her husband step on her seven year old daughter and her first thought was thank goodness it’s not me. That was the day the light left Sujin’s eyes but hope didn’t fade completely not yet, but each time her father hit her those huge eyes would look her way and each time her heart constricted but helplessness stopped her from acting. It took years but all that youthful hope was extinguished and she never heard that word again, “mother” it seemed fitting since she had never been a mother to the girl. 

“I don’t understand why you did what you did. But it’s not my place to judge, despite what you think you are a victim and I am done turning a blind eye. Staying here won’t help Sujin, she needs her mother.” 

Sujin needs her? That sounds laughable but then a distant conversation resurfaces in her memory and she feels frustrated tears welling in her eyes. 

“What does it mean to be a mother? I can’t answer that question for you but the fact that you’re asking that means you want to try, so do that. Try your best and apologize when you’re wrong. That’s all mothers can do.” 

The woman looked so fragile laying in the hospital bed but the strength of her words were undeniable, she didn’t know what made her visit she knew if her husband caught her there would be retribution but she couldn’t stay away. She didn’t even have an excuse and they simply stared at each other before the other woman smiled at her and motioned for her to sit on the chair, she had done so without question. 

There were flowers all over the room, both fresh and old. 

“Someone must really love you.” She had said and she watched jealously as a maternal smile graced her face, she could almost feel the motherly pride. 

“Sometimes my son gets carried away.” 

The boy on the motorcycle, she had thought he was just a delinquent but the amount of flowers in the room said otherwise.

That was ultimately what pushed her to ask the silly question: what does it mean to be a mother? 

She had never known, her own mother had treated her like a bargaining chip that would lead to the betterment of her own life, naming her fortune only to force her to have anything but that in her life. 

The woman had smiled delicately before answering her. 

The words swirled around like a tornado in her mind, she hadn’t expected such a simple answer. 

“Are you coming?” Joo-hun’s voice brings her back to reality and she thinks about Sujin and the day she was born and how small and vulnerable she looked laying in her arms as they both cried, wailing their hearts out. 

She hadn’t known what it meant to be a mother back then and she’s no closer to knowing now but she knows that she wants to try, Sujin might never forgive her for what she did and she wouldn’t blame her. But she still wanted to try, even if it took her whole life she would spend it trying to repent for all her sins. 

She takes one small step forward, the shackles that have been tightened around her body her whole life crumbling in the face of her renewed hope.  

I want to try. 

She isn’t wearing his sweater, it’s pitiful but that’s the first thing he notices when he sees Sujin in the morning, she’s walking alone and he can’t stop the joy that shoots through him at the observation it was never easy to see her arrive with the other boy despite knowing the truth. But today the encroacher is nowhere to be seen and he settles the kickstand of his motorcycle before rushing over to her, without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder but then he feels her body tighten at the unexpected touch, “Relax, it’s just me,” he whispers airily but to his disappointment her body becomes more rigid at his words. 

He immediately removes his arm, moving out of her personal space- not understanding what exactly is going on but still not wanting to be the source of her discomfort. 

He shifts apprehensively, already wrecking his brain to think of what he might have done to warrant such a bitter cold reception from her but coming up emptyhanded. So instead of trying to guess and create his own reasons, he asks her, “Are you okay? Did I do something?” 

He can tell she’s going to lie before she even opens her mouth, he watches the swarm of emotions play across her face before she settles on nonchalance, “No. I’m fine, you surprised me. I don’t want to upset your fangirls so I think it’s best if we avoid each other at school.” He stares at her in shock, wondering if this is the same girl who he held on the bench just days ago her lips soft on his cheek and her perfume filling his senses? 

“I already told you I don’t care about them. You already know that I only care about yo-” 

“Stop. I can’t do this right now I need space, I have to go.” She interrupts him and after a long gaze she stalks away and he wants to follow her, nothing she’s doing is making any sense not after everything they’ve been through. He’d given her everything he could offer and it still wasn’t enough, she was still walking away and he was tired of chasing her, if it was that easy to walk away from him time and time again then maybe he was fighting a losing battle. 

He turns around, walking the other direction. 

He misses the dark eyes that follow him over a small shoulder. He doesn’t look back. This time he chooses self-preservation. 

He doesn’t go to lunch, unable to bear the thought of sitting across from Sujin and pretending that he’s okay when he feels like a hollow fruit. So he escapes to the roof top and instant regret fills him as he remembers all those months ago when he had held the other on this very roof, it had been so different from their hug at the hospital and the hug in the rain. Those hugs were filled with what he thought was affection, but now he doesn’t really know. He can’t understand why she’s suddenly pushing him away again when he thought they had overcome all the barriers between them. 

Was it because of her father? Had she only kept him by her side because he had helped her but now that Suho and his father were on her side she realized that she no longer needed him? It pains him to imagine that this could be true but the thought rolls around in his thoughts until he starts to believe it, that has to be it. Was he that expendable to her? 

Clearly the answer was, yes. 

The rooftop door suddenly bangs open and he hates his heart for speeding up, as he turns around piteously hoping to see her. HIs heart plummets when he’s greeted by a smiling face that’s nowhere as beautiful as the one he hoped to see, he tries futilely to hide his disappointment with a smirk. 

He recognizes the girl as one of the people who have confessed to him in the past months, she wasn’t as nervous as the others but it had taken her a few minutes to stutter the words out and he had gently turned her down, he wasn’t cruel because he knew how terrifying it was liking someone and not knowing if it was reciprocated. 

She shuffles anxiously on her feet and he wonders how she knew he was up here. Sometimes the girls at school made him uneasy, their fixation with him wasn’t normal. 

He watches at she inhales deeply before looking at him with an unwavering gaze. 

“I know that you said that you liked someone else and I respect that. But I haven’t seen you dating anyone and I just like you so much you’re all I can think about and .....Cantyoujustgivemeachanceifshedoesntlikeyouback?” 

It takes an extra moment to decipher what she said with the rapid speed that she expels the words and he stares at her, her breathe coming out in short winded puffs like she just ran a marathon. 

He steps forward purposely, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before answering her, thoughts of Sujin’s sudden rejection permeating his mind. 

She walks away stunned by his reply and he doesn’t go down until the bell rings, he still isn’t prepared to be in the same room as Sujin but he can’t avoid her forever. 

The classroom is abuzz, he can hear excited voices as he walks down the hallway and he wonders what bit of gossip has their attention now, he slides the door open only to feel all eyes land on him. The class goes silent before suddenly he’s being bombarded with questions. 

“Is it true?” 

“Why her? I liked you before she did.” 

“Are you finally going to get a girlfriend? It’s not fair you shouldn’t only date one person oppa.” 

He ignores them all sliding into his seat and dropping his head onto the table, when they realize that he has no plans of answering their invasive prompts they go back to gossiping about him as if he’s not sitting right there. 

He rubs his temple, trying to stop the head ache he can feel forming but he knows that it’s already too late. 

The energy shifts in the room and without looking up he already knows why, he can hear the telltale clicks of her shoes on the floor. 

He hears Su-ah’s voice shortly after, “What are you all so excited about? Did something happen?” 

It’s vindictive but he wants them to hear the gossip so he finally looks up, eyes settled on Sujin who is already looking at him.

“Oh! Su-ah it’s the saddest news, Han Seojun is getting a girlfriend. He finally accepted a confession.” A girl whose name he doesn’t know wails as if her life is over and he watches the confusion morph on Su-ah’s face before he glances over at Sujin and she looks devastated and it suddenly he feels sick instead, what is he doing finding enjoyment in this? 

He can’t hold her gaze, he doesn’t know what the look on her face means and he doesn’t want to analyze it, he’s done doing this.   

“It’s just rumors.” Su-ah repeats this over and over like a mantra, but she can’t hear a word that the other girl is saying all she can think about is Seojun with someone else. She imagines him smiling and holding someone else, cradling their cheek as he kisses their forehead and wrapping them in his too big sweater while beaming down at them and it makes her rush to the bathroom, water scalding her hands before she can even think about what she’s doing. 

“Sujin no!” Jukyeong snatches her hand away from the too hot water and she only fights her for a moment before lets herself be pulled away, losing all her fight. 

“Calm down Sujin, talk to us. What happened between you two?” Su-ah asks firmly and gently and she can’t stop the diarrhea of words that explode from her mouth as she tells them everything, Baekyung and how much his words stuck in her mind and her doubts about Seojun and whether she could truly be loved by anyone much less someone as coveted as him. What right did she have to drag him down? 

He might like her now, think that he was aiding someone helpless but was that all this was? Was she just something to soothe his ego? 

“Do you really feel that way?”

She jumps at the harshness in Jukyeong’s tone, she has never heard the other girl talk like this before. She has never been anything but kind when speaking to her, the tone makes her head spin. 

“What?” She replies at a loss for words. 

“Do you really think that’s true? Do you believe the words you are saying right now?” Jukyeong presses harder and she stalls at her interrogation, not knowing what she thinks anymore she can barely trust her emotions- they change too quickly without her permission or consent. It makes her miss the days when she felt nothing, numbness overwriting all these pesky feelings. 

“I...I...I don’t know.” 

The silence drags on before she hears Jukyeong sigh heavily, “Then I think you should let him go.”

It’s the last thing she expects to hear especially from the ever optimistic girl and acid runs through her body at the mere suggestion. 

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t fair Sujin, you can’t play with someone like this. You can’t push him away and then get jealous when someone else shows interest, he’s not some toy that you can pick up whenever you see fit. He is a person, who really cares about you. If you still don’t know what you feel for him then maybe it’s best to let him go.” 

She turns to look at Su-ah hopeful that the other girl will say the opposite, will implore her to fight for Seojun. She’s crushed when she sees a similar look on Su-ah’s face. It’s a mix of exasperation and pity, she hates it. 

They both think that she should let Seojun go. 

She leaves the bathroom with nothing in her mind, walking aimlessly back to class taking her seat and robotically pulling out her notebook. She doesn’t hear one word that the teacher says for the rest of the time, her heartbeat wildly thumping in her chest. 

When class ends it takes Su-ah calling her name a few times to break her from her stupor. 

“It’s time to go home.” 

“Oh.” She starts to put her books away in her bag, dropping one when Seojun walks past her table without a sideways glance, it’s like they are strangers again and that makes her want to scream because this was all her fault. 

“Wait.” 

She can’t bring herself to speak the word aloud and he leaves, walking away from her just like she had this very morning. 

He’s already speeding off on his motorcycle when she gets outside and she sees a girl beaming at his back, surrounded by a group of girls who are congratulating her and telling her how jealous they are. 

That must be her, the lucky girl. 

The one that had replaced her so easily. She stomps away ignoring Su-ah and Jukyeong’s cries of her name. She knows she has no right, none at all but she does it anyway she has to know if this is really the end. 

That’s how she finds herself outside of his apartment, staring at his motorcycle the proof that he is here and not out with the girl from school, it makes the unease in her stomach unfurl slightly. Staring up at the looming building she tries to think of what she can say to him, she should listen to Jukyeong what she was doing wasn’t fair but she can’t lose him, she had undid all the good in one fleeting moment because she didn’t trust them. Baekyung had said the words but she was the one who chose to believe them, the one that let those words wedge a divide between them and for that she was solely to blame. 

Saying sorry wouldn’t nearly be enough, but that’s all she can think of as she pushes the door open and calls for the elevator. 

The ride has never felt that long all the other times she has visited his apartment, but today it feels like an eternity but when she reaches his floor it feels too soon and she’s not ready. 

Which is exactly why the universe gives her no warning and as the doors open she meets his eyes, he looks notably surprised to see her there and takes a step back in his shock. 

Once she recovers from her own shock, she takes in his attire he’s no longer wearing his uniform- dressed in all black from head to toe like a grim reaper and she wonders if grim reapers are supposed to be that hot, absently she steps out of the elevator before the doors can close between them. Her tongue feels huge in her mouth as she openly gapes at him. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Where are you going?”

Their questions collide and his gaze sharpens once he processes her words, she knows she has no right to question him about anything and his cold look echoes that very sentiment. 

He scoffs at her and tries to circumvent around her and she feels the floodgates opening up in the face of his blatant disregard, “I know you’re tired of hearing this but I’m sorry.” 

His expression barely changes, as he folds his arms peering down at her. 

“Okay.” 

He tries to walk around her once more and this time she’s the one to invade his personal space, gripping his elbow to stop him from walking away from her. She has an irrational fear that if he walks away that this will be her last chance, it makes her let down her guard fully terrified she’ll never get another opportunity. 

“I was scared, that once you realized that I was always going to be this broken you wouldn’t want me anymore. Even if he goes to jail I’m always going to be like this, a broken fucking mess and how can I ask anyone else to deal with that? How can I ask you to give up on having a normal relationship with someone who won’t need therapy for the rest of their lives? I should give you up, everyone is right. I don’t deserve you. I don’t.” 

Despite her rapid blinking a few stray tears escape her tight hold and she watches the wall he put up around his heart gradually start to stilt away as his eyes opens up in the face of her palpable dismay. 

“Sujin.”

“Please let me finish, if I don’t say it now I’m scared I never will.”

He stares at her before nodding slowly. 

She takes a deep breathe before continuing, “I’m not good girlfriend material, no don’t argue I’m not. I will doubt us all the time and I won’t always talk to you about my feelings because I’ve spent so many years ignoring them, I only spoke to you last time because it involved your family. I knew I couldn’t keep that from you but this didn’t seem as important. I should be able to handle it on my own, I’m not a baby. I’m too impulsive and selfish and a coward and....I shouldn’t burden anyone with dating me.”

It looks like it’s taking everything in him not to rebuttal, because when it really matters he always listens to her. 

“I know that I haven’t made this easy on you and I should have just let things be-let you be with someone normal, but I can’t and I know why, I’ve always known why but I was too scared to admit it. I can’t just be friends with you anymore.....I want more.” 

She can’t believe it but the words are now out in the universe, the ones that she has been thinking for months and swallowing every time he showed her how much he cared about her, and he looks taken back by her confession, she hadn’t planned on saying that when she showed up but now it feels stupid to keep it to herself, if she’s going to lose him then she might as well be honest, at least once in her life. 

“Can I speak now?” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ready to hear what he has to say, but it’s only right since he listened to her, taking a centering breathe she nods at his inquiry preparing herself for the worst. 

“You are selfish.” 

Her heart sinks at his words, that isn’t a good start and even though he is merely echoing her words it burns deeper to hear them from him. 

“And impulsive and so damn confusing, you’re hot and then you’re so damn cold and I’m only human Sujin I can’t just pick myself up after you push me away every time, I get hurt too.”

She tries not to bristle at his tone and the lack of nicknames, feeling her heart sink into her stomach now. 

“When that girl confessed to be do you want to know what I thought?” 

She blinks at the sudden change in topic and her immediate answer is no, she does not want to know at all but he doesn’t even give her a moment to reply before he’s answering his own question. 

“I thought she is so straightforward and this is so different, I don’t have to guess about her feelings she wears them on her sleeve, this is so much easier being with her would be so much easier.” 

Her first real confession and rejection all in one day. She has always been an overachiever and it’s only fitting that this would be no different, blinking harshly she forces the tears to stop she has no right to make him feel guilty, everything he said was right and she couldn’t blame him for choosing the path of least resistance. 

“Thank you. For everything, I really mean it.” She bows at him before turning around, she can’t stay here for another minute not knowing that he’s no longer hers and probably never was in the first place. 

It’s all too cruel. 

She presses the button, she should just take the stairs but this will buy her a few extra minutes with him, it’s pitiable but she wants to savor every remaining moments. 

The elevator arrives, gleaming metal doors sliding open and she steps inside ready to go home and cry her eyes out. 

But then a large hands wraps around her wrist and she’s suddenly tugged backwards her back slamming into his chest. 

“Where are you going? Did I say I was finished?” His voice is rough in her ears and she can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his skin, it amps up her own racing heart too scared to even hope but she feels brittle and unsteady his body is the only thing keeping her upright. 

“Dating someone else would be easier, but the thing is I don’t want easy. I’ve never wanted easy, I just wanted you in anyway that I could have you. So why are you trying to “set me free”? Fuck that self sacrificing bullshit, you said it yourself you’re selfish so hold on to me and don’t let me go, when you have doubts hold on to me tighter. I’m not some caged bird that you’ve imprisoned, I’m the guy who likes you and that’s not going to change because you pushed me away. Do you feel feel that? That’s fear. You’re scared to lose me. Good, remember this feeling and how much it makes your heart ache and hold on to me tighter.”

She hiccups at his words, tears pouring down her cheeks now and she finds herself turning in his arms before her brain can catch up, relief washing over her so profoundly she sways a little on her feet. 

He has a shit eating grinning on his face as he stares down at her. 

“You didn’t accept her confession.”

He rolls his eyes at the statement, pulling her closer although there is no space left between them. 

“No I turned her down again but some girls saw us come from the roof top together and they started spreading rumors anyway and I couldn’t be bothered to stop them.” 

She stares unimpressed at him, reading between his lines and feeling foolish because she fell right into his trap. 

“You knew it would make me jealous.” 

He shrugs noncommittedly, “I hoped it would help bring you to your senses.” 

Has she been brought to her senses, she’s not sure she feels crazier than before his words echoing in her brain and she’s moving before she even knows what her intentions are, his smile starts to slip away and he releases her and makes an apprehensive retreat backwards and she automatically follows him, he steps back, she steps forward, another step back and she steps forward again, they do this dance until he’s pressed against the wall with nowhere else to run. 

“Why are you running?” 

He blinks looking dazed and she takes that opportunity to move in closer, cradling his face in her hands before leaning her head forward until only an inch separates them, a scratching noise comes from the wall and when she glances down she can see his nails digging into the paint, she hums at the sight and the implications. 

She was clawing at his resolve.  

Skin vibrating like a livewire she gently pulls him down, until they are eye level and their breaths are curling in the miniscule space between them, those feline eyes are darting all over her face before they land on her lips, she sinks her hands deeper into his hair. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

She has to ask one last time, this all feels like a dream and she’s terrified of waking up and finding that she imagined this all. 

He doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring a hole through her face but she waits patiently, remembering all the times he had waited for her. 

“What?”

“Can I really keep you? Do you really want to be mine?” 

It’s so cheesy and sappy and all kinds of ridiculous, nothing that she ever imagined for herself because she never thought anyone would make her want to say these kind of sweet nothings but here they are- and there’s no turning back now she waits for his reply with bated breath and this time he barely pauses for a second instantly answering, “I’ve been yours this whole time. Are you mine though can you let me in?” 

When you have doubts, hold on to me tighter. 

She drags him the rest of the distance between them, her lips barely grazing his own and it’s crazy because her lips are already on his, soft flesh upon flesh but it takes a moment to realize that she’s actually kissing him, she is kissing Han Seojun. They are kissing. 

She has no idea what she’s doing and she leans onto her tiptoes pressing more firmly against his mouth, imitating the kisses she has seen on tv and from couples in the hallway at school twisting her head to find a better angle but something still feels wrong and it takes another moment to realize what’s wrong. 

He is frozen on the wall, completely still under her ministrations. 

And she immediately pulls away, apologetic and feeling bone deep shame. 

“I’m sorry! I had no right to spring that on you, you barely forgave me and I did that. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

His eyes are glossy and his cheeks are so red and it’s almost too beautiful to look at, how was she not supposed to kiss him when he was looking like that?

“Don’t apologize, you just made my brain short circuit. Come here.”  

She blushes bright at his too honest admittance, feeling giddy from the power that she seems to have over him. She had been scared that her inexperience would be off-putting for him. 

He tugs her back, letting her body block him in against the wall and she gasps at the warmth of his body he’s so hot even through the layers of clothes separating them. Her breath hitches when he starts to lean back down and this time when their lips meet it feels like the universe has righted itself, the stars and the moon are aligned and something clicks inside her like a gear snapping into its rightful place. 

It’s a simple kiss, a mere press of lips to lips but it is perfect and sweet- nothing like what she imagined because her mind could never fathom something so ideal, the softness of his mouth on hers is enough to make her toes curl and when he wraps his arms around her waist, one hand tight on her back as he eliminates any space between them dragging her impossibly close, she sighs unable to contain her delight as a smile works its way across her lips. He chuckles into the soft press of their first kiss and she can’t help the answering giggle that she lets out, to anyone else they would look deranged but she doesn’t care, this was real. 

He breaks away only to pepper kisses all over her face- first her forehead then her cheeks, her nose and even her chin, all left warm in the wake-  and she blushes under his passionate and diligent attention before grabbing his face and kissing him harder on those plush red lips, hands tight on his hair as she tastes him for the first time. He’s intoxicating and she knows she can never go back to being just friends, not when his flavor is thick on her tongue and she knows what his moans taste like.

Not when his hands are bruising tight on her waist and his scent is coiling around her like a blanket that she never wants to be without. 

She was allowed to have this and she would relish every minute. 

He sits awkwardly on the couch with the woman he has only ever seen a handful of times, when his father had called him and asked for a favor he had never expected this. He had been completely flabbergasted to see the woman on his doorstep but stepped back to give her entrance, nonetheless. 

He knew that his father meant well, was hoping that the two would be able to reconcile like they had but he was forgetting how much they fought before getting to where they were now. It had been an arduous path to restoring their broken relationship and he feared that Sujin and her mother had differences that might be irreconcilable . 

She looks like Sujin, just more weathered and beaten down by life in her expensive clothes and jewelry none of it doing anything to hide the sadness that wafts off her in ebbs and waves. He tried calling the other girl several times but to no avail as he reached her voicemail over and over again, he knows that there is no way this can end well but he couldn’t kick the woman out either, not to be with that sadistic bastard. 

“I should go. She won’t be happy to see me.” She states matter of fact and he’s not a good enough liar to try to argue with her so he says nothing at all, staring at the floor in silence. 

Then the jiggle of keys reach his ears and they both sit taller, gazing at each other wild eyed as the door pushes open. 

Sujin looks blindingly happy, a wide smile stretched across her face and he contemplates throwing a blanket over the woman’s head to hide her- just so the girl can enjoy a few more seconds of happiness but it’s already too late, Sujin slips off her shoes putting on her slippers and walking over to him, her eyes are still on the ground and then she finally looks up and all the air is sucked out of the room. 

All of the joy and exuberance that had previously been imbedded in her pores dissipates and he sees a look so numb, it feels like he’s seeing the Sujin from months ago cold and shivering in Seojun’s arm, the one that didn’t want to live and saw her life as expendable. 

He wonders if he did the right thing? Would she ever forgive him for this? 

She doesn’t say a word, throwing the keys on the table and sprinting back to her shoes, haphazardly stuffing her feet back into them and shooting him one final look of betrayal that makes his blood turn to ice before she slams the door behind her, the sound so powerful the walls vibrate. 

“She hates me.” 

From that look on her face, her mother wasn’t the only one. 

[gloryofluv]

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 6

Well, this chapter is bordering 5k words. I didn't want to shorten it due to how fun the actual scene is! Let's see what the boys are like outside of the cafe? Shall we? I think we shall!

Previous Chapter

She was sighing and standing at the counter in the large kitchen. It was vacant. Why did it seem so much so now? Alex glanced over to the hedges and noted lights changing color in the vast yard. What were they doing?

Her phone beeped. She checked the text.

Unsaved number: Want me to come over? You appear pensive.

She scanned the windows to see a silhouette in the window. It seems someone had been watching her plenty. There was a bit of jostling with the shadow, and it was gone. Her phone rang, and the same number was calling.

“Dammit, Asmo!” Satan growled.

“Oh, does Satan have a girlfriend? What’s your name, honey?” Asmo cooed into the phone.

“Alex,” she smiled.

“Alex! Alex, why did you give Satan your number and not me? What’s that about?” Asmo whined into the phone.

She stifled a giggle as her timer went off. “Well, Asmo, he definitely can be persuasive.”

“How about you come over, baby? We were all just about to go swimming,” Asmo sighed and laughed. “I have a few suits you might fit. I do love an amazing two-piece.”

Alex hummed and tilted her head. “I just finished baking some cookies,” she said while pulling the sheet out with an oven mitt.

“Beel, Alex said she’s bringing over cookies!” Asmo shouted.

Alex groaned. “I never said that.”

Satan growled. “Give that back, you heathen. I’m sorry, Alex. My brothers are morons.”

She giggled and started setting the cookies on the rack. “It’s fine, Satan.”

“Alex is comin’ here?” Mammon shouted in the distance on the other end.

“No!” Satan snapped. “Now fuck off.”

“Satan, please tell her to come! We’re going swimming!” Asmo whined.

Wow, this was very enlightening. Alex was smiling as she finished setting the cookies out to cool. Now she could see why Lucifer was very discreet about the knowledge of her whereabouts.

“Yo, Mammon said Alex was on her way here?” Belphie questioned in the background.

“This is my bedroom, and do I need to pull out my paintball gun and shoot you fuckers in the face to make that a point? Get out,” Satan muffled; he likely was covering the phone speaker.

“I could come over,” she offered. “I just baked two batches of cookies that I was going to give to Jordan’s mother. I can afford to spare some.”

Silence. “You really want to join this chaos?” he asked in a low tone.

“Well, you all aren’t going to rape and kill me, right?” Alex laughed as she set the sheets into the sink.

“Um, no,” Satan snorted. “I’m pretty sure most of these idiots don’t know what cunnilingus is, let alone how to use their dick.”

Alex was so glad he couldn’t see her blush. “Well, then,” she paused and cleared her throat. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Satan chuckled. “I can meet you down at the door if you prefer.”

“That might be best. Educate me on all the quick exits, too,” she laughed.

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” Satan asked.

“Five,” Alex affirmed.

“Oh! Is she coming!” Asmo cried from farther away from the speaker.

“Get the fuck out!” Satan snarled, and the phone disconnected.

Alex was batting a thousand today. Maybe she had been lonely a lot longer than she convinced herself otherwise? Shaking her head, she pulled out a Tupperware and placed a decent amount of the cookies into it. She was in her jeans and a regular t-shirt. That wasn’t too bad.

Breathe. Well, this was going to be interesting. She dialed and pressed the phone to her cheek. Her feet carried her to her purse just as the call connected.

“Alex, what’s wrong?” Jordan asked.

“I’m walking over to see them,” she said. “If I die, I’m going to haunt you.”

“Fair,” he laughed. “Levi-chan, Alex is coming over.”

Alex blinked and stopped in her tracks. “You’re there ?”

“Yeah, darling, I come over almost every week to hang with Levi. When you were at school, we would hang out because he’s part of my cosplay circuit.”

“Jordan! Don’t tell her that!” Leviathan hissed.

“Fine, I’ll see you momentarily,” She sighed and shouldered her bag.

“See ya soon!” Jordan laughed and hung up.

Jordan and collecting his introverts… she shook her head and walked out the door, locking it behind her. Pacing across the street seemed like running a mile. It was quite nerve-wracking. She twitched her nose and approached the pathway, glancing up at the massive house.

Okay. She stepped up toward the door and scowled at the boot marks on it. Strange. The door opened, and Satan smirked before leaning on the door jam. “I see you found your way here.”

“Easy as walking next door,” she laughed.

“Just to let you know, my brothers don’t represent or even come close to my moral values,” he sighed and moved from the entrance. “Come join us in hell.”

Alex laughed and stepped inside. It actually did read frat house, but not in a cringy way—tons of pictures on the wall, goofy quotes, or even of them.

“Put your bag down on the table so that no one digs through it,” he suggested and pointed to the side table by the door.

Alex rocked her head and slid it off before Satan led her down a hallway and into a giant kitchen. The motherload of kitchens, actually. It was pristine and bright with top-of-the-line gadgets and plenty of counter space, including a large island.

Beelzebub was digging in the fridge and turned to blink. “Alex, you really did come.”

This sweet boy was shirtless and gorgeous. Alex swallowed and smiled. “Yes, I did. I brought cookies.”

“How many times have I instructed that we do not leave our clothing lying around? Mammon, where are you!” A loud shout was heard down the hall, and Alex cringed.

Satan snorted. “You’ll get used to his shrill tones. Or you won’t,” he rolled his eyes.

Beel approached and set down his light beer. “Alex, those cookies look really delicious.”

She set them on the counter and pulled off the lid. “Please have a couple. I brought them for all of you.”

“Fuckin’ Lucifer!” Mammon huffed and walked into the room. “Woah, Alex, you’re here, in our house.” He stopped dead and rubbed his damp chest.

Beel groaned after devouring the first cookie. “These are almost as good as Barbatos’s.”

Mammon frowned and stomped toward the island. “What is it? Oh, you brought me cookies?”

“I brought everyone cookies, yes,” Alex nodded.

Satan reached over and leaned on the island with a smile. “I invited her.”

“They’re my mother’s recipe. She said you could win over any man with a good cookie,” Alex giggled and exhaled. “She was a riot.”

“Come on, let’s go!” Mammon huffed and yanked Alex’s arm.

“Wait, where,” she struggled, and he tugged her out the way he came and into a vast sitting room. She could hardly get her footing as he pulled her along and out a sliding glass door.

“Hey, Asmo! Look who came and brought me cookies but not you,” Mammon laughed.

Alex groaned and pulled her arm from him. “Don’t do that!” she snapped and reached over, flicking his nose.

Mammon froze, and his cheeks darkened. “Did ya just flick me?” he huffed and rubbed his nose.

Asmo screeched with laughter. “Mammon, you idiot!”

Alex glanced over and saw a small pool connected to a jacuzzi which Asmodeus and Belphegor were inside. Belphie waved with a sleepy smile and climbed out. “Well, look who came out of hiding. The rare and unusual white-haired doe. You know the myth is, if you catch her, she has to grant you a wish.”

She beamed and gestured to the sliding glass door where Beel was walking out. “I brought over cookies as a peace offering for you not to shoot this doe.”

Belphegor laughed and rocked his head. “Hopefully, Beel didn’t eat all of them.”

Mammon wrapped his arm around Alex. “She came over to see me.”

“No, actually, I came over because I came over. Satan invited me,” Alex said and nudged Mammon with her elbow, causing him to jerk and huff.

“Stop that. I’m ticklish there,” he groaned.

“Actually, I invited you over,” Asmo laughed and relaxed in the hot water. “You don’t have to have a suit, honey. You can just get in with whatever you have under your clothes.”

Beel offered the container to Belphie, who took a cookie. “Thanks, Beel. I bet they taste great.”

“They do,” Beel nodded.

Satan peeled in between Alex and Mammon. “Thank you for being an idiot. We’ll be going now. We have tons of books to review.”

“Shut up, Satan! You’re not gonna steal her away!” Mammon snapped.

“What is the meaning of all the idiotic bickering? Our neighbors could hear all of you seven blocks down!”

Alex jumped, and Beel moved next to her to reveal Lucifer. Oh, a dressed-down Lucifer? Buttoned up charcoal long-sleeve with the sleeves rolled up? No tie. Pretty handsome.

“Oh,” Lucifer scowled. “Alex, what are you doing here?”

“She brought cookies for us,” Beel smiled and offered Lucifer the container.

Lucifer examined his brothers before reaching in and taking a cookie. “Thank you.”

Mammon groaned and shoved Satan. “Lay off, would ya?”

Unfortunately, in their jostling and now the bickering that ensued, Alex was caught in the middle. Rubber soles and wet ground don’t mix near a pool, and she was toppled into the water. The absolute hilarity of it all. These brothers fought and argued probably all the time.

Surfacing, she huffed and shivered. “Shit, I wasn’t ready for that,” she sputtered and yanked her hair from her face.

“Fuck, are you alright?” Satan scrambled and bent to the edge to offer her a hand.

She smiled and let out a stream of giggles. “I’m fine. It’s just a pool, and I’m most certainly not allergic to water.”

He hoisted her from the pool and helped her to her feet. Lucifer was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m truly sorry, Alex.”

“Alex, I’m sorry, really,” Mammon puffed and raced to one of the chairs. “Here, use my towel,” he grumbled and handed it to her.

She took it and shrugged. “I’m fine. Not the first time I was thrown into a pool,” she voiced and yanked off her shoes and socks. They were soaking, so Alex placed them carefully aside while wrapping the large towel around her body.

Lucifer exhaled and waved his hand toward himself. “Let’s go inside. I’ll find you something to wear in the meantime.”

“She could just take off her clothes!” Asmo laughed.

Lucifer shot him a warning glare before assisting the dripping woman into the house. The sitting room was quite cozy now that she could see it from another angle. It had a large tv with plenty of seating space on a section couch. There were board games on the shelves, and it all weirdly screamed family.

Jordan and Leviathan appeared just as they were about to reach the other end of the room. “What happened?” Jordan laughed.

“Well, I got caught between two brothers arguing and fell into the pool,” Alex laughed.

“Sounds about right. We were just coming down to see how you’re faring,” Jordan smiled.

Leviathan was hiding behind his towel. “Hi, Alex.”

“Hi, Levi,” she smiled.

“We’ll see you out by the pool. I convinced Levi to come down for some normie fun,” Jordan laughed and waved.

The pair passed by Lucifer, and he breathed before glancing at Alex. “I would have preferred you would have told me you were coming over.”

“I know, I should have,” Alex rocked her head.

He smiled and coaxed her along, and they moved toward the staircase. More pictures and paintings. Actually, quite a few paintings and most of them were of a dark landscape with a bright moon and stars. They were entrancing.

After the third flight, Lucifer ushered Alex toward a door to the right, and he opened it to reveal a bathroom. Lucifer flicked on the light and pointed. “Go ahead and attempt to dry off. I’ll fetch something for you to wear.”

“Are you going to be able to find me something that will actually fit?” She questioned with curled lips as she entered the room.

“Not likely, but I will make due,” he responded and shut the door.

Well, that’s one way to allow her to adjust. Alex breathed and yanked off her wet t-shirt, setting it in the sink. She did that with her pants and grimaced at him seeing her underwear. They weren’t like the sexy kind women prepare to wear around a man who may or may not be interested. No, they were plain and unflattering.

Alex exhaled and tore them off before tucking them into her jeans. Better. She wrapped the towel around her chilled sink and placed the seat down on the toilet before sitting.

What a bathroom. A huge tub had a shower wand connected to it midway—tons of little metal shelves with products of all sorts. There also was a shower to the right, and the glass that surrounded it seemed pristine and clean. More products in the shower… hmm, interesting indeed.

The knock at the door came with a voice. “I found something suitable for you.”

Alex cleared her throat and went to the door, cracking it. Lucifer was staring at her face, just her face. She actually could see the piercing concentration he was using for such an act. He offered the clothing and nodded.

“Thank you, Lucifer. I would have been chafing with jeans on,” she laughed.

“Well, let’s avoid such circumstances.”

“I’ll be out in a moment.”

He rocked his head, and she shut the door. Now, what did this man bring her to wear? Alex set the clothing down and shrugged. Not horrible. A t-shirt that was black and three sizes too big, and a pair of leggings that had to be Asmodeus’s because they were lavender and tiny. Well, unless someone has a girlfriend in this house.

Alex situated the leggings and was impressed that they didn’t reveal anything private. She then tossed on the shirt, tying it off to the side, so she wasn’t walking around in a curtain of cloth. Alex took the towel and wrapped her clothing in it before walking out of the bathroom.

Lucifer had out his phone and glanced over with a nod. “Suitable for now. I’ll throw those in to wash when we head down.”

Alex rocked her head, and they walked toward the staircase. “Are you upset I came over?”

He shook his head with a large exhale. “It was bound to be my irritation sooner or later. They will need to help you move.”

Alex laughed and shook her head. “Lucifer, all of you barely know me.”

It was so sudden. He had her turned and against the wall. Not in a kiss or even a heavy glare. No, he pressed his hand on the wall next to her while the other was pointing at her nose. “Stop this. Now. If I insist on assisting you, I don’t appreciate stubborn neglect. I’m not ignorant of grief and what it takes to live through it. Stop doing a disservice to yourself by trying to be strong.”

Cue the thump, thump of her heart and wide eyes. “I-I just, I don’t know anything else,” she stammered in a breathy tone.

“Well, that will be mended,” he voiced and pulled from her space.

Alex licked her lips and swallowed as her cheeks burned. Has anyone ever talked like that to her before? No, actually. Forcefully taking help was something she’d really never experienced because no one gave two shits about her outside of Jordan’s family. It was different.

“So who’s leggings are these? You have seven girlfriends hidden here too?” Alex questioned with a smile as they walked down the staircase.

Lucifer glanced over at her with pure sarcasm laced on his features. “Obviously.”

“Just some weird group community. I had no idea,” She laughed.

Lucifer stifled a smile and waved his hand. “As if any of my brothers are capable enough to be adult males in a relationship,” he snorted.

“It’s all about application, Lucifer,” Alex giggled.

They returned to the ground floor, and he wagged his fingers. “Let me put those in. If you go home before they’re done, I’ll have them dropped off for you.”

“Okay,” she agreed and handed him the bundle.

He exhaled and shook his head. “Try to avoid another trip into the pool, Alex.”

“Roger that,” she beamed.

Lucifer patted her shoulder with his available hand and moved toward the door on the left. Alex took that as a dismissal of some sort and walked back toward the sitting room. She watched as Jordan was in his trunks and waving flamboyantly while strutting next to the pool.

“Now introducing, the one the only, J Getlow!” Jordan declared.

Asmo had a remote in his hand and turned on the music. Sure enough, Jennifer Lopez’s I Ain’t Your Mama started playing. Alex lingered in the room and watched Jordan strut while lip-syncing, and the brothers seemed amused. Beelzebub was in the pool. Satan was reading a book on a chair a safe distance from the pool. Belphie was in the hot tub with Asmo and was grimacing despite watching.

Mammon was lounging on a tube with his glasses on in the pool a distance from Beel. Alex couldn’t see Leviathan until she noted white limbs hanging just in view in the pool. Well, they all were out there. Alex approached the door and smirked as Jordan finished the song.

Asmo clapped and laughed. “Oh, darling, you’re one of my favorite people!”

Jordan bowed before flipping into the pool. “I haven’t done a good drag show in forever,” he announced when he surfaced.

“The last one was pretty excellent,” Alex finally spoke as she came outside.

Jordan laughed and blew her a kiss. “Alex, you’ve always been my biggest fan.”

“Always. You deserve it too. You’re the extrovert to my introvert,” she laughed and walked around toward the seat next to Satan.

“Alex, lovely, Jordan was telling me you absolutely don’t date?” Asmo puffed with a scowl. “We need to fix that.”

Alex snorted and crossed her legs across the lounge. “Asmo, I didn’t have time to date. I was on a mission to make sure I got a degree so I could pay for my life.”

“It’s true, she slept maybe six hours at most every day, went to work, then jetted off to school. I’m not even positive she was human,” Jordan laughed and crawled into the hot tub.

Beel walked over to the pool edge where she sat. “Did you at least eat?”

Alex shifted her head from side to side. “More or less. Jordan always made sure I had food,” she laughed.

“By the way, those leggings look stunning on you. You can keep them,” Asmo giggled and waved.

“I think it is the first time I’ve seen her in something, not jeans or sweats,” Jordan laughed.

“Oh, I smell a shopping trip,” Asmo nodded.

Alex exhaled and smirked over at the man reading. “All the time?”

“Yes, Alex, all the time,” Satan snorted.

Alex shifted and ruffled Satan’s hair, causing him to blush. “What’s that like to live with your family in one big house?”

“It’s annoying as shit,” Belphie huffed as he shoved Asmo away from him and climbed from the water. “But we do alright,” he added and walked over.

This was likely Alex’s first time being around so many shirtless men. She remembered going to the beach as a teenager, but this was a pretty condensed experience. Jordan glanced back at her several times, almost as if checking to see if she was uncomfortable. Surprisingly she wasn’t.

Belphegor pushed her legs aside and sat down. “So, Alex. How close do you live?”

“Close,” she replied.

“How close!” Asmo shouted with wide eyes.

“Close,” she echoed.

Satan leaned to her and smirked before whispering. “Please don’t tell them. It’s my get back.”

Alex smiled and nodded.

“So, Solomon told me that Alex is going to come over for dinner this week? I didn’t realize you liked Solomon. Fair warning, his cooking isn’t the best,” Asmo voiced as he lounged against the rim.

“I said no such thing. Solomon is a pushy bastard,” Alex giggled.

Belphegor wrapped his purple towel around himself and forcefully scooted closer to Alex, pushing her over so he could relax against the back of the chair with her. Alex puffed and moved. Talk about pushy bastards. Satan exhaled while shaking his head.

“You see, Asmo and Solomon like to incite a new religion every once and a while,” Belphegor grumbled. “‘Oh, my fucking god,’ tends to be Asmo’s chant,” he rolled his eyes.

Alex covered her mouth as she turned tomato. “What?” she squeaked.

Satan groaned. “Can you just for once, Belphie, just once, not enjoy shock value?”

“I’m glad you noticed, Belphie! That was years ago, though. We grew bored of each other,” Asmo sighed. “Maybe I’ll call him soon.”

“That is way more than I needed to know,” Alex shook her head.

“That man has a nice dick,” Asmo giggled.

Jordan shook his head. “Not worth the trouble. He’s way too difficult.”

“Apparently, that’s what Alex enjoys,” Satan grumbled.

“She does! Alex likes difficult people because they surprise her,” Jordan laughed and glanced back at Levi in the pool. “Come on in here, Levi-chan. I promise I’ll slap Asmo around if he bothers you.”

Asmo grinned and wagged his fingers under his chin. “Don’t tempt me, J baby.”

Levi grumbled to himself but complied, sliding into the hot tub.

“Is it like this here, every day?” Alex questioned.

“Oh, yeah,” Mammon perked up and climbed from the water. He sat down on her chair near her feet.

“Don’t get her wet, scumbag,” Belphie growled.

“Or do!” Asmo laughed. “She can put on more of mine and Lucifer’s clothes!”

Lucifer’s shirt? Alex glanced down at the plain black t-shirt. He actually owned casual wear?

“Insufferable asshole,” Belphie snorted and plucked at the shirt.

“Cruelty has more reason,” Satan nodded.

“Do either of you ever stop complaining?”

Alex glanced over to see Lucifer walking out to the pool. He was in his same outfit but had pages in hand. “You’re working still?” Alex asked.

Lucifer exhaled and lifted the papers. “When am I not? We have a long day tomorrow. It’s time for everyone to dry off and settle in for the evening.”

“You’re not my father,” Belphie challenged.

“If I was, you would have never made it to puberty,” Lucifer shook his head.

Alex laughed and nudged Belphie. “You are a bit of a prick.”

“You like it,” Belphie snorted.

Those still in the water climbed out and reached for towels. Alex shifted from her blocked in seating around Mammon and Belphegor before standing. “I suppose I better go. I have work in the morning. This was fun.”

“You have to come over more,” Beel nodded. “Come eat dinner.”

“Do you have an obsession with feeding everyone you crush on, Beel?” Satan questioned.

Beel blushed and exhaled. “She lives alone.”

Jordan rocked his head. “He has a point. It might be good for you, Alex.”

She laughed and patted Beelzebub’s arm. “I’ll think about it. Behave yourself,” she said and patted Mammon’s head.

“I always behave,” he puffed with pink cheeks.

“No, you do not,” Lucifer groaned. “Your creditor bills explain that explicitly.”

Alex stifled a smile and waved at the group. “I’ll see all of you soon,” she said and reached for her shoes.

“What a mighty fine ass to get behind,” Asmo teased.

Alex stood up with tinted cheeks and puffed. “Goodbye, Asmo,” she groaned.

“Let me walk you out,” Lucifer declared.

She nodded as the boys bid her goodbye and followed Lucifer through the house with her shoes in hand. Nabbing her bag at the door, he paused before opening it.

“I had fun,” Alex smiled.

“Really?” he scowled.

“Yes, really,” she laughed and rolled her eyes. “I think all of you are interesting and very different. I’ve never been around that in my life.”

“You’re welcome to come over whenever you like. Just as long as you can stomach their chaos,” Lucifer voiced and exhaled.

“Lucifer, I deal with them at work pretty well. I think I’m capable of drawing my own limits. I wish you wouldn’t stress about this so much. For the first time in my life, I think I really enjoy my neighbors. Even if it is for only a short time,” she explained and tilted her head.

He touched her shoulder and nodded. “Don’t hesitate, alright?”

“Alright,” she beamed.

He opened the door, and she stepped outside of it, putting on her shoes enough to walk. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” Alex responded and waved before walking down the path.

She glanced back once she was on the sidewalk to see him still observing her. The woman paced back home and noted that the light poured from their front door, and the dark form of him watching remained. This man. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around his demeanor.

Well, it was time for a shower and bed. She was definitely keeping his shirt until he asked for it back. If he ever did.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

[roman-writing]

the spectres vain (2/2)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton / Jamie / Viola Lloyd

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,525

Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Loved them.

Content advisory: spoilers, horror, and ghost smut

read it here on AO3 or read it below

“The night isn’t dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer.”

    -‘Departure’, Louise Gluck

 --

"I really thought this would go away. But it just hasn't."

They were sitting in a cheap diner, their local favourite down the road. Jamie had already received her meal -- an omelette with a cup of coffee and a side of toast, all of which was going to be far too much for her to eat; she never would get used to the size of American meals -- but Dani had yet to receive her own. Jamie paused in the act of picking up her knife and fork. Dani's eyes were glued to her meal, like a starving man who had seen food for the first time in weeks.

"What would go away? Food?" Jamie asked. She slowly passed the knife and fork between her hands -- clink of chipped cutlery -- and began to eat.

"Yeah." 

Dani tore her gaze away from Jamie's plate and instead focused on the salt and pepper shakers between them, bracketing the serviette dispenser like little guardsmen. She was sitting on her hands, as though that were the only thing keeping herself from snatching Jamie's food away for herself. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. 

"I mean, I've always liked food. But after -" She made a nodding motion with her head. "- anyway after, it was like I'd never tasted food before in my life. It was so strange. Everything tasted so sweet. I could hardly choke down a cup of apple juice. And a cheeseburger? I thought that I'd died the first time I bit into one. All that sauce."

Dani trailed off. She was frowning contemplatively at her scratched reflection in the chrome-plated dispenser.

Jamie shoved a mouthful of omelette into her mouth and spoke gracelessly around it. "Always thought American food was too sweet, myself. Maybe you got used to Owen's cooking over in England."

Dani gave her a look. "You know that's not why."

"Yeah, I know." Jamie finished chewing, already cutting up another piece and loading up the back of her fork with her knife. "I noticed the appetite change, of course."

"Mmm." Dani nodded. Her mouth was twisted to one side; she was chewing the inside of her cheek and sneaking glances at her wristwatch as though even the ten minute wait was too long for her to bear. "But it just -- it hasn't gone away. It's more bearable now. I still struggle with cake that's really sugary or has too much icing. But food is -- well, it's an experience. Every time."

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat; her mouth was too full for even her to speak. She finished her bite, and then said, "Anything in particular you two have been craving?"

If anything, Dani seemed startled by the question. The thoughtful groove in her brow deepened, before she answered, "Tarte au citron. She used to love lemons. Anything sour. Not too sweet. Always a hint of bite."

Nodding slowly, Jamie said, "Yeah, all right. We can make do with that. And what about you? Do you like sour things?"

Dani's mouth opened to answer, but before she could say anything, the waitress came by and placed an enormous cheeseburger with all the trimmings in front of her -- bacon, extra cheese and gherkin, the whole lot. "Thank you so much."

The waitress had hardly taken two steps away before Dani descended upon her meal. The cheeseburger was in her hands and then in her mouth in a flash. She took a large bite, and juice dripped all down her fingers. As Dani chewed, she moaned softly, eyes shut in rapture. “God,” she mumbled. “That’s so good.”

Jamie lifted her eyebrows and coughed discreetly. “Blimey. Do you two need a room?”

Dani nodded and took another bite. Jamie laughed, and she could see the way Dani's mouth curled into a smile even as her cheeks bulged.

 --

Later that week, Jamie was passing by a bakery on her way back to their florist's shop. She stopped and peered through the window. All of the baker's wares were on neat display, ranging from little fancies to proud cakes dusted with chocolate shavings.

And there, near the middle, a row of lemon tarts the size of her hand.

When she returned to the florist's shop, the bell attached to the door by a string announced her arrival, along with her accompanying bellow, "I'm back! I see you didn't burn the place down in my absence! Well done, love!"

It was a Saturday, and the sign turned to 'CLOSED' on the door bounced when she shut it. The sound of footsteps drummed down the stairs, and Dani's legs appeared as she descended the steps. "Oh, hey! How'd the bank go?"

"The usual." Jamie walked forward to the countertop with the cash register. "All their old farts with all their old money. And some money that isn't theirs either."

"Uh huh," Dani said. "And the loan?"

Jamie lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Sounded like they were impressed by the little talk you had with them last week about tenants and estate management.”

Dani’s face split into a wide smile. “Really? They’re going to give us the money to buy the shop instead of rent?”

“And the apartment, too,” Jamie said, and she couldn’t help it either. Her own grin broadened. “Anyway, I got you something."

She held out a plain brown wax-paper bag. Dani blinked, and took it.

"Oh, thanks, I was just thinking about -" Dani's voice slowed, then stopped. Her smile lessened slightly, when she opened the bag and saw what it contained. A perfect lemon tart with a dash of cream that had been only slightly smushed on Jamie's walk home. "Oh."

Without a word, Jamie pulled from her back pocket the plastic fork that had come with it. "Go on, then. Let's see how it compares to 16-whatever."

For a long moment Dani fiddled with the plastic fork. It were as though she were standing at the edge of a dock, readying herself for a plunge into icy waters. And then with a brave smile towards Jamie, she cut herself a piece and took a bite.

Jamie wondered what it must have been like. Dani's eyes were closed. She looked utterly transported.

"Good?"

Dani opened her eyes again and nodded. "So, so good."

"Yeah?" Jamie leaned her elbows upon the countertop, watching as Dani went in for another bite. "Better or worse than 16-who-even-cares?"

Dani hummed around the fork in her mouth. Pulling it free and chewing, she said, "Better. Way better."

"Why d'you think that is?"

"It's -" Dani went quiet for a moment as she continued to eat, mulling over every morsel. "It's smoother. Richer. Tarter. More depth of flavour."

"Is that the ingredients talking? Or the fact that you've been stuck in a lake without a body for five-hundred years?"

Dani went very still. After a pause she kept chewing. “A bit of both, I think.” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and looked Jamie dead in the eye. “It’s still me, you know. I’m still me.”

Jamie smiled at her. “I know, Poppins. I know.”

When Dani held out the next forkful to her, she let herself be fed. And indeed, she’d been right. Smooth. Rich. Tart. And a depth of flavour. 

 --

At some point -- she could not say exactly when -- Jamie began doing things explicitly thinking of not just what Dani might like, but what Viola might also like. 

She read old books. She asked a friend of a friend who went to university to study textile history for any hints of seventeenth century culture. Anything at all so long as it was between the years of 1645 and 1680. (She knew the dates perfectly, but she wasn’t about to let Viola know that. Couldn’t have their evil aristocratic ghost getting all uppity on them, could they?) 

She grew specialty plants. She bought specialty food. She gave her clothes and jewelry, little trinkets, only what she could afford. Dani loved them all. 

And Viola -- well, Viola was a mystery.

 --

"Did you know that our very own Viola may very well have met Oliver Cromwell?"

Beside her in bed, Dani shifted and the mattress springs creaked beneath her weight. "Are you doing research on my ghost?"

In answer Jamie pointed at the place in the book she was reading and said, "In the year 1658 the daughters of one Mister Willoughby, Viola and Perdita, visited Court, aged fifteen and ten respectively. There they paid their respects and stayed for a few months in a London residence, before returning to the family estate." Jamie set the book down on her legs. "Do you think she actually met him? No. They couldn't have. The Lloyds weren't that reputable, were they?"

"She did," Dani said in a hollow tone. She was staring into the middle distance again, her expression slack. 

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie asked. "She want me to know that, does she?"

Still gazing off into space, Dani nodded.

Jamie gestured with the open book. "Noted." She tried to go back to reading, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Okay, what was he like? Good ol' Ironsides?"

"Cold." Dani's eyelids fluttered and she seemed to come to herself. She cleared her throat, but continued, "And he was so critical of her nice new clothes. But she had the last laugh in the end."

Jamie snickered. "Sounds about right." 

“He died that same year. Right after they’d visited,” Dani said. “She thought his beheading later was very funny.”

Hearing that, Jamie’s eyes widened. "Holy shit. Wait. Was Viola a secret Catholic?"

Dani scowled darkly at her. The air of their bedroom seemed suddenly colder.

"Whoops. Personal question, then?" Jamie held her hands together in mock supplication and thickened her accent. "A thousand pardons, m'lud."

With a snort of laughter, Dani pushed Jamie's hands down, but paused to lean forward for a quick peck on the mouth.

 --

Sometimes Jamie felt like she was stalking a dead woman. Constantly trying to figure out what Viola might like, what might entice her to stay. And then worrying that perhaps it meant Dani was losing a bit of herself everyday. Like a coin rubbed smooth over the years, until the minted face was indistinguishable. One replacing the other. Or perhaps more like losing the line that separated them. Until she could no longer tell where Dani ended and Viola began. 

Yet in time Jamie learned she would do anything if it meant that Dani was here by her side. Every action. Every game pie. Every tight-armed hug. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Just for today. Just one more day.’

And every time, Dani caught her eye and smiled as though she had heard the unspoken words, as though they had rung about in the pull-down attic of their little apartment. And every time she would reach out to squeeze Jamie’s hand, and pull her into a reassuring kiss.

 --

Americans, Jamie had learned since living here, were obsessed with Halloween. Personally, she didn’t see the appeal. Now, lighting up the effigy of a Catholic who had once attempted to blow up Parliament? That was more her cup of tea.

Still, when in Rome...And the few friends they had made along the way had invited her to a costume party in town. It would be churlish to decline. They needed more friends. Friends that weren’t linked to a shared trauma.

Besides, as it turned out her friend’s friend at university studying textile history was also an amateur seamstress, and had a few period-accurate pieces that fit without too much trouble. Just a bit nipped in at the waist and -- done. Jamie was set for a ball, or whatever the appropriate equivalent would’ve been called. 

“Hey, Jamie, could you help me with this wig? It’s being a real pain in the -” 

Dani emerged from their bathroom, half dressed in a Bride of Frankenstein white dress outfit, and froze. It was an hour or so before they were set to leave on the night, and Jamie was in their bedroom draped in a seventeenth century gown, seated on the mattress, a thorn-stripped rose in hand. Dani dropped the aforementioned wig to the ground and stared.

“Too much?” Jamie asked. She adjusted the puffy sleeves so that they sat lower on her arms, revealing more of her chest. “I don’t think it suits me, and I was going to go for a bloke’s outfit instead, but she insisted that -”

“No,” Dani breathed, shaking her head. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

“Well, I knew that, obviously.” Jamie winked. Then she made a shooing gesture with the rose, rising from the bed and walking towards Dani. “Now, c’mon! Let’s get that zig-zag wig of yours on. We’re going to be late.”

Dani stepped to one side to block the exit. Her gaze was dark and fixed, unblinking, upon Jamie’s outfit. “I was wrong, actually. What I said just now.”

“What? About me being perfect?” Jamie joked.

“No, not that. It’s just -” Dani reached out with a tentative hand and her fingers were trembling. She thumbed an edge of the dress at Jamie’s sleeve, testing the rose-coloured silk there. “It’s the wrong colour. You should be in green. Laurel as a crown.” 

“Thanks?” Jamie said uncertainly.

Dani stepped closer. With her application of make-up and her pale flowing dress, she seemed more like a ghost than ever. Her hands were on Jamie’s upper arms now, stroking the fabric, following the line of the stomacher’s seams until they rested at Jamie’s narrowed waist.

Dani swallowed, and her voice sounded strained when she asked, “Are you wearing a pair of bodies?”

Jamie huffed with nervous laughter. “Am I wearing a -? What?”

As if coming to herself, Dani blinked and shook her head quickly. “I mean - uh - stays. Uh - What’s the name now? - a corset. Are you wearing a corset?”

“Yeah. And all the petticoats and frills.” Jamie straightened theatrically and tried to stretch her shoulders. “Bloody uncomfortable, too. I tell you what.” 

Any attempt to break Dani out of this spell with humour seemed futile, however. She was tracing the metallic gold thread of Jamie’s stomacher with greedy fingertips. “What exquisite passementerie.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said haltingly. She was being guided back towards the bed, their steps slow. “The girl I borrowed this from is into the real deal. Wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m guessing she passed with flying colours?”

Wordlessly, Dani nodded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, her mouth painted a bold and bloody red. Her hands curled into fists, bunching up the skirts at Jamie’s hips as though she wanted to tear the cloth from her, only for her touch to slacken, and her palms to smooth down that same fabric like a caress. 

Dani continued walking them towards the bed. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening right now, but I really really want you.” 

Whatever reaction Jamie had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Dani hadn’t blinked for what seemed like an age, and she held herself rigidly, every movement twitchy, as though she couldn’t quite remember how to control her muscles properly. 

“Can I -?” Dani started to ask, fingers already slipping towards the laces at Jamie’s front.

Jamie lifted the rose between them and used it to bop Dani gently on the forehead. “‘Course you can, Poppins. So long as it’s still you in there.” 

Dani blinked furiously and her head jerked back. Then she laughed softly. “Yeah. I’m - I’m here, too.” 

Jamie’s mouth curled in a smirk. “All right, then.” She tossed the rose onto the ground, and reached to the laces that held the gown in place. “Help me out of this thing.”

“No.” Dani grabbed her wrists and held them firmly in place. She shut her eyes for a quick moment, shaking her head back and forth. “Not yet.” 

“I thought you said -?”

“I know. And I do. Just -- slowly.” 

Jamie stared, searching Dani's face for some hint of her there, but her eyes were still tightly shut, and her fingers were pressed coldly around Jamie's wrists. 

"All right," Jamie said. "What do you want me to do?"

Dani's eyes opened then, and her gaze was piercing as a shot in the night. She let go of Jamie, stroking her wrists in silent apology, then said, "Be still."

Jamie lowered her arms, then tried her best to not move at all. A long silent moment stretched between them like a bolt of cloth flaring across a table for measuring. The muscles of Dani's face leapt, then settled, and it were as though the nervous energy ran right out of her to pool at their feet. She straightened to impeccable posture, and her expression was nothing but hunger.

It came as a shock, when Dani first tugged at the strings at Jamie's chest. Clever fingers, accustomed to such garments, worked the laces loose, criss by cross. When the gown had slackened just enough that it began to part from the under layers, she stopped. She brought her hands around, and dipped her fingers along the gap created between silk and cotton, running a line between them all the way from one of Jamie's shoulders, across her chest, to her opposite arm.

When her fingertips trailed across Jamie's collarbone to rest against her sternum, it felt like there was another set dragging along after them. Twin touches mirroring every movement of the other, until suddenly they weren’t. Dani leaned forward, and though her hand remained at the hollow of Jamie’s throat, Jamie could feel an icy caress continue to graze her warm skin.

Then Dani was kissing her neck. Jamie tilted her head to one side, only for some other presence to nudge it back upright. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a second pair of lips against her throat. She swallowed, neck craned back, and teeth scraped against the sensitive skin there, harder than Dani would have ever bitten, hard enough to make her jolt. From the corner of her vision she swore she could almost see another figure shrouded in white, but when her eyes darted in that direction, there was nothing. 

When Dani felt a hand reach around her throat, she stiffened. "No," she said. "Not around my neck."

Immediately Dani went very still against her, and the hand withdrew. "Sorry. Better?"

Jamie nodded mutely, but could not bring herself to relax. Not when those pairs of hands had moved to part the robe gown from her front. The ruffled bunch of rose-coloured silk dropped to the mattress just behind her in a rustle. Dani was kissing her mouth now, a long deep drawn out kiss, cupping Jamie's cheeks between both hands, but something was still expertly reaching beneath a layer and untying the ribbons that held the padded pillow around her waist under the over skirt, until that, too, was dropped to the floor.

That phantom touch roved, then began to trace the intricate patterns of the stomacher again. There was more strength behind the caress now. As though, the person responsible were gaining confidence, or perhaps becoming more grounded in reality. The warm lamplight on the bedside table behind them cast too many shadows, and over Dani's shoulder Jamie could clearly see the silhouette of three people instead of two.

Those hands pressed against the seams of the stomacher, and Jamie broke off the kiss to gasp, "Careful. There are pins holding that in place."

"I know," Dani murmured against the side of her mouth. The hands passed right over the pins, leaving them in place. "I don't want it off."

"And miss out on all the fun?"

There was a certain steely coldness about Dani's answering smile. "Who said anything about that? Now,” she pressed gently at Jamie’s sternum. “Lie down.”

Jamie dropped onto the mattress, which bounced slightly beneath her weight. She made to shuffle up towards the headboard, but stopped when Dani sank to her knees before her. And yet, there was a dip in the mattress on either side of her. The blankets bunched up at four points as though beneath another weight. Jamie held her breath and let herself lie completely flat with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. The air above her was thick and cold and almost solid. It felt like lying at the bottom of a lake and staring up at the watery surface overhead.

She could feel Dani pushing up the over skirt and petticoat and whatever other layers there were. Jamie had been told the names of each one at the time, but hadn't paid much attention then. Now, she wished she had. Now, Dani was running her hands along each one in turn, slowly sliding them up to Jamie's hips.

Something tugged at one of the black ribbon garters just above Jamie's knees, which kept those long white stockings in place. Then Dani was sliding the left stocking down her leg, pausing to press a kiss to each patch of bare exposed skin. She shivered. As Dani removed the first stocking and moved to the second, Jamie felt a kiss at her neck again. The suddenness of it made her twitch. She reached out, but her hands passed right through the air above her. A pair of hands gripped her wrists and pinned them down to the bed.

Jamie made a noise in the back of her throat. Dani paused, and the grip around Jamie's wrists slackened just fractionally until it became clear that she wasn't fighting back.

Once the final stocking was removed, Dani pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Jamie's inner thigh. Jamie squirmed. Though Dani’s head was only barely visible between her legs, Jamie could not escape the feeling of someone staring intently at her. Dani’s mouth worked its way up and up and -- Jamie hissed, shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth. While the rest of her was cold, Dani’s tongue was a length of heat, licking long warm stripes and small circles. 

With a moan Jamie’s hands jerked, instinctively going to grab Dani’s head, but she was held back, tethered down by an invisible ghost that lingered over her like a dream. There came the sensation of something drawing closer, a draught of cold air that drifted across her face, and Jamie’s eyes flew open. 

If she focused, she could almost see the monochromatic shape. Dark locks of hair dripped down past her head and puddled on the surrounding bedsheets. Viola was crouched over her in all her former glory. Sparkle of light glinting against the pearls at her throat. A rich cool and satisfied smile. Dark weathers for eyes. The cat that had caught the canary in its claws. She leaned down and kissed Jamie, and her mouth was full and soft, and thin and hard all at once, demanding, unrelenting. 

Viola pulled away. She lifted one satin-gloved hand and stroked Jamie’s cheek. “Such a pretty thing.”

Her voice was a hoarse echo across space and time. Dani slipped two fingers into her, and Jamie had to bite back a whimper, her eyes squeezing shut. 

“Look at me.” 

With a hitched breath as Dani’s tongue worked against her, Jamie struggled to open her eyes, to keep her hips still. 

“That’s it, darling,” Viola smiled, and her face began to melt, like a painting that dripped with wax. “Come for me.”

Jamie’s back arched, her head turning against the sheets. She came with a whine that escaped in spite of herself, and it seemed to go on for ages, until she trembled and jerked her hips away. Layers of cotton and silk stuck to her skin with a thin sheen of sweat. Hastily Dani clambered up to take Viola’s place, hands on Jamie’s wrists, crouched over her, her mouth a smear of bold red lipstick, staring intently down, as though trying to memorise every last etch of her face. She swayed closer for a moment to brush her lips against Jamie’s, just softly. 

“You all right?” Dani asked, sounding breathless.

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Good. Great, even.”

“Yeah?” 

In answer, Jamie reached up and crushed their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Dani groaned, pressing down against her, then gasped her name.

Hands on her hips, Jamie urged her further up until Dani’s knees bracketed either side of her head. She pushed up the sheer white fabric of the costume around Dani’s thighs. Above her, Dani gripped the frame of their headboard, knuckles white, already panting. 

Jamie shouldn’t have been so greedy. She should have taken her time. She should have made Dani writhe, holding her on that ledge for as long as she could until Dani finally broke. But Dani was so wet, her thighs were taught and trembling, and she was grinding down against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie could feel her chin and neck grow slick. She held onto the backs of Dani’s legs and urged her on, coaxing with every roll and swipe of her tongue until she came with a cry. 

One of Dani’s hands was tangled in Jamie’s hair. The other was still gripping the headboard tight. She was resting her sweat-stippled forehead against her own arm. When Jamie scraped her teeth lightly against her damp inner thigh, Dani shuddered.

"Are you all right?"

“I need a moment,” Dani said, her chest heaving. “I want to go again, but - Just - Give me just a moment -”

Wiping at her face, Jamie helped Dani back down to lie beside her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” She kissed her temple while Dani gasped for breath into her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

 --

She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later Jamie wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. Or at least the idea of them. In some twisted way. All that cold rage and loneliness clinging to whatever scraps it could find, winding around its prey like a snake slowly throttling the life out of its victim without even realising it. 

But maybe Viola wasn't squeezing so hard after all. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Dani hadn't died yet because Viola was trapped, because she could never again return to the lake at Bly. Maybe Viola wasn't possessing her at all. And if she wasn’t possessing her, then - well. 

Even that was too good to be true. The best outcome by far given the circumstances. And really, deep down, Jamie knew that loving Danielle Clayton meant loving her enough to one day let her go. 

They didn’t make it to the Halloween party. Eventually, Dani tired herself out, riding Jamie’s fingers for a third time before collapsing atop her and panting for breath as she seemed to come fully back to herself. Jamie was barely able to convince Dani to join her for a shower before she fell asleep, all a-tangle in Jamie’s arms. 

The bedside lamp was still lit. Jamie carded her hands through Dani’s long damp and honeyed hair. From the light, the shadow of a woman standing at the foot of their bed was thrown in sharp relief against the opposite wall. Staring at the space where Viola stood, Jamie gently kissed the top of Dani’s head. 

Not for the first time in her life she found herself hoping beyond hope that someone could be haunted forever. 

 --

One day she brought back a tin full of loose-leaf tea. It was intended for nobody but herself. A full and earthy black. Not the bog her father would've drunk before descending into the ground, but similar in colour to his lungs perhaps. Jamie pulled it out along with the rest of her shopping, and started to put everything away but the tin. And while she did so, she put on the kettle to boil.

The sound of the kettle whirring away on the stove drew Dani from another room, like a siren's song. She was dressed in an old pink shirt tucked into high-waisted, acid-washed jeans. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower. "Need some help?"

"Sure." Jamie handed over the last bag for unpacking. "Take care of that for me while I handle the kettle, will you?"

Without a word, Dani did as asked. She was the taller of the two, and didn't have to reach up onto her toes to put away things on the high shelves. And Jamie was too proud to admit she needed a stepping stool, herself. Why bother? That's what Dani was for. Among other things.

When Jamie opened the cupboard, she asked, "Don't suppose you want some as well? Might not be your cup of tea, so to speak."

"I'll have one. Thanks."

So, Jamie pulled out two mugs. The kettle hissed. She poured a bit of water into each cup to warm them, then spooned the appropriate amount of tea leaves into the pot. While waiting for the tea to steep, Jamie turned round and lifted herself onto the kitchen bench. There, she drummed her sock-clad heels against the cupboard and reached over to the jar that held an assortment of biscuits. Chocolate-drizzled digestives for herself, and ginger biscuits for Dani, who had the unfortunate American affection for cinnamon and ginger and cloves. Jamie couldn't stand ginger, herself. Tasted too medicinal.

Sticking a digestive biscuit into her mouth, Jamie wordlessly held out the jar. Dani was just finishing putting away the shopping bags, and wandered over. Her hand slipped into the glass opening and she fished out two ginger biscuits for herself. Jamie set the jar aside, and meanwhile Dani insinuated herself between Jamie's legs so that she stood snugly against her.

"Long day?" Dani asked.

"Mmm," Jamie mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit. She finished chewing. "Not too bad of a Sunday, to be honest. What about you?"

"I went for a walk in the park," Dani said, looking mischievous as she nibbled on the first biscuit.

"On a Sunday? The scandal," Jamie tsked, tapping her tongue against the backs of her teeth. "What would dear old Viola think about that?"

In reply, Dani arched her brows and smirked, "I think that was the appeal, actually. Plus, we're in the full swing of Fall now, and we won't have many sunny days soon. I wanted to take full advantage while I still had the chance."

"Buy anything while you were out?"

"A scarf for you," Dani answered. "And a pair of gloves for me."

She had a habit of buying articles of clothing out of the blue. Whenever the fancy seemed to strike her. Today was obviously one such a day.

"How very thoughtful."

"It's green. You look good in green," said Dani. "It brings out your eyes."

"I look good in anything," Jamie insisted. "And nothing."

Dani grinned. "That's true, too."

She stepped back and wandered over to the fridge for milk, when Jamie reached around to pour them each a cup of tea.

"Thanks, love," Jamie said, pouring them each a dollop of milk before handing the jug back to Dani, who put it away in the fridge once more.

Their fingers brushed when Jamie handed over the cup of tea. As ever these days, Dani's hands were cold. They eagerly wrapped themselves around the hot cup, and she pulled the tea close to her chest.

Jamie did the same. It was after all, as Dani had said, the throes of Fall; the weather was taking a turn to the icy. And that first sip of tea was pure heaven. It warmed her all the way down her throat and settled in her stomach. Jamie hummed at the sensation and closed her eyes. She could hear Dani do the same beside her.

"I wish I could take this moment," she heard Dani say in a soft murmur, "and press it into a big book for safekeeping. So, I could come back and look at it whenever I felt sad."

“Aye,” Jamie breathed. Then she opened her eyes, and said, “Though maybe only with another biscuit in hand.”

With a snort of laughter, Dani dragged the biscuit jar closer so they could each indulge again. Jamie took one. Again, Dani took two. 

“There. Now, that -” Jamie gestured with her cup of tea, speaking around a full mouth, “- is a perfect moment.” 

“I could not agree more.” Dani had already finished one biscuit and was busily dunking her second into her tea. 

Jamie watched her finish the biscuit before nudging Dani softly with her elbow. “You’re normally more of a coffee drinker. I could’ve brewed a different brew, if you’d wanted.”

“Yeah. But - I dunno. Somehow,” Dani paused to take a sip. She smiled warmly around the brim of the cup. “This tastes like home.”

 --

Polaroids were getting cheaper and more compact these days. She didn’t have to go cramming them into oversized pockets anymore. Jamie had thrown out countless photos over time, never quite satisfied with the outcomes but always searching for some way to keep a hold of her. The day she bought a new camera -- her old one had died the death of kings; a swimming accident, and cameras as it turned out did not swim very well -- she immediately wanted to try it upon returning home.

Dani had just gotten a new haircut. The barber had done something to her fringe to make it look like the sweep of a wing, and she was constantly brushing it out of her eyes. She did so when she looked up as Jamie entered the living room, greeting her with a curious smile.

Brown paper bag under one arm, Jamie took a moment to remove her jacket and sling it across the coat hanger, but she left the green scarf wound around her neck like a python. “I got a new toy,” she announced.

Dani tilted her head to one side. “I told you I’d buy you that nice pair of secateurs for Christmas.”

“And you still can.”

Immediately, Dani’s eyebrows rose and she seemed intrigued. “Then what kind of toy?”

Pretending to look scandalised, Jamie reached into the bag. “How naughty! Not that kind of toy.”

Dani’s cheeks tinged pink. “Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed.

With a smirk, Jamie strode forward and pulled out the new camera. She chucked the now empty paper bag onto the kitchen countertop, and gestured for Dani to stand beside her. Shaking her head, Dani nonetheless complied. 

Jamie grabbed a hold of Dani’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, before she lifted the camera up as high as her arm would allow. A press of her finger. A flash of light. A click and whir of cogs and internal mechanisms. 

Dani didn’t flinch this time or duck her head. She returned the kiss, then wandered away, humming to herself, without waiting to see the film develop. Jamie watched her go with a warm grin and an appreciative glance. When she looked down at the photo it was to find herself beaming from the square strip of film, and beside her Dani smiling tentatively, grasping Jamie’s opposite shoulder. Both of them were clear and their characters easily distinguishable. She felt herself relax a little. 

Then as the white veil continued to lift from the surface, she went very still. On each of their shoulders rested a pale hand, and in the space between them a shadow in the shape of a woman with hair as long and black as the night. The face was a mask worn of all features, but she swore she could see a pair of dark eyes watching her from the film, and a canny smile haunted the unmistakable likeness of the Lady Lloyd of Bly. 

Wrenching her eyes up, Jamie stared after Dani, who had wandered into their kitchen and was humming over the kettle. Slowly the water began to build to a boil. The kettle began to hiss. Then to shrilly whine. 

Dani removed the kettle from the heat and poured boiling water into the brown betty teapot. "How'd the picture turn out this time?"

Briefly, Jamie considered throwing this one away like all the others, but it were as though a hand was still squeezing her shoulder tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to be known and most of all obeyed. Clearing her throat, she took a few hesitant steps forward then held out the square strip of film. 

Dani set the kettle back down, and took the picture. She turned it round for a better look. There followed a sharp inhalation, like tearing in one last breath before the plunge. Her eyes widened and then, a slow smile crossed her face. She gasped out an incredulous laugh.

"Y’know, I - I thought this was going to be terrible, but -" Dani stroked her fingers over the image. "It really isn't half bad. You look - I mean. We look -" 

Suddenly she snatched her hand away from the picture, clenching her unruly fist and lowering it. Her breaths were shaky but when she glanced up, her eyes were bright. She held up the photo. "Can we keep this one?"

Jamie nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Sure.”

Relief suffused Dani’s face. She did not tuck the photo away in some little corner of the apartment, something to be passed by without a second glance. No. Instead, she turned and began pulling magnets from the fridge. She cleared their normally busy little refrigerator, pushing everything aside to make space. And right there at the very centre of the blank white canvas she pinned the photo into place with a single plain black magnet. 

“There,” Dani breathed softly. Her trembling fingertips lingered against the white-edged film. “That looks right. That - It feels just right. Right there.” 

The hand at Jamie’s shoulder withdrew, but then there was the feeling of something drifting from the top of her head to the nape of her neck. As though someone were trying to tame the wild curls there with a gentle, approving touch. 

“Dani,” Jamie croaked, her voice cracking. 

“Hmm?” Dani turned around.

Striding forward, Jamie stopped only when she was close enough that she could peer deeply into Dani’s eyes. They were as they always had been. Variegated as an infected holly. 

“Are you -?” Jamie had to swallow down the burr in her throat. “Are you feeling yourself?” 

Dani’s answering smile was puzzled. “Yeah,” she said, her words slow and thoughtful, as though considering something inward very closely. “Yeah, I am.” 

And she reached up to card her fingers through Jamie’s untamed hair. “You know, it’s strange, really.” Dani’s hand followed the same path as the one had before, coming to rest at the nape of Jamie’s neck, a cool solid comforting weight. She stroked her thumb, and the motion was repeated by one that was colder, like an echo, before the two hands came together at last. “Somehow, I feel more myself than ever.”

[xx-autmnlvr-xx]

Is This Embarrassing? Chapter 3

PAIRING: KEVEDD (Kevin x Edd) [Ed, Edd n Eddy] Rating: T (for cursing and violence)

Here's the last chapter!!! I want to say thank you all for reading my story and I hope it was fun!!! If you haven't read the first two chapters you can read this here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Enjoy!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Edd stirred awake early that morning. He stretched and looked at his alarm clock.

  "5 am. That's a good time to get the day started." He stood up and turned off the alarm before it went off. He took his shower and after he rubbed the cocoa butter lotion on his head, he rubbed some on the bruises on his legs and arms.

  He pulled on a orange turtleneck and black dress pants, not forgetting his tie. As he cleaned up his dirty clothes, he thought about what he should do.

  "Maybe I should just pull him aside before class? No, that's too early. During gym? No that's preposterous." He sighed, sitting on his bed.

  "Am I even doing the right thing? He hasn't shown me any reason that he might like me. Hell, he hasn't shown me that he might like guys! Maybe... Maybe this is a bad idea?" Edd walked to his window and looked out. It was still dark, and the streetlights illuminated the sidewalks. He looked across the street at Kevin's house. All the lights were off in the windows. Edd smiled softly and Eddy's words echoed in his mind.

  'you know that if you don't make a move soon someone else will and then what are you going to do?'

  Double D's eyes narrowed, and he walked to his desk, "Eddy's right. I have to at least tell him or else it will destroy me." He told himself. He sat down and made up a note.

   'Kevin,

Please meet me behind the school after the final bell. I have something very important to tell you.

Sincerely,

Eddward'

   Edd folded up the note and put a little sticker to keep it closed. He nodded and continued getting ready for school. Soon, his doorbell rang.

  "Coming!" Edd called while putting on his shoes. He went to the door and opened it.

  Ed smiled, "hey, double D! You ready for school?"

  Eddy groaned at the mention of school. He stood beside Ed with his hair in a mess.

  Edd smiled, "good morning, fellows! Yes, I am ready. Shall we get going?" With that, the three started walking to school. As they walked, they saw Sarah and Jimmy skip by and Rolf riding his goat ahead. Double D looked around.

  "He left yet, sockhead." Eddy yawned, still staring ahead grumpily.

  Edd looked at Eddy, "oh...okay." He said as he looked in front of him.

  "Hey, double D! Is it possible to mix those spicy drinks to make a monster?" Ed asked.

  "Umm well I don't like the fact you called chemicals 'spicy drinks' and I hope you never attempted to drink them. As for your question, it is not probable for liquid chemicals to become a living organism, but then again anything is possible in science. I just don't have an equation for it."

  Ed looked at Edd in confusion and double D chuckled, "In short, I don't know for sure, Ed."

  The tallest one nodded, "okay. Thank you, double D!"

   They walked the rest of the way in silence. They walked in the school and Eddy finally perked up, stopping the other Ed's.

  "Oh yeah! I forgot to say that I have a plan for a scam! It's foolproof!"

  Edd shook his head with a smile, "I haven't seen you plan a scam in nearly three days. What's the idea this time?"

  "Well I can't say it in the middle of the hallway because I don't want anyone to cash in on it before us! So, I'll explain it tonight! We'll be RICH!" Eddy smirked, rubbing his hands together.

  "Yay! Sounds fun!" Ed cheered, clapping happily.

  "Well it will have to be after four. I have plans at three." Double D said, scratching his cheek.

  "That's fine," Eddy said, shrugging, "we have all night to make it anyway! Come on, you two! Let's go see if there are any spare quarters in the soda machines."

  "Okay, Eddy!" Ed smiled.

   They walked down the hallway and Edd paid attention to the lockers. He found Kevin's locker and felt his knees shake with nerves. He slowly walked up to it but couldn't bring himself to raise his hands to the slot. his face went red and he felt himself perspire.

  "Oh, for Pete's sake!" Eddy groaned. He grabbed the note from Edd's hands and pushed it through Kevin's locker slot.

  Edd gasped, "o-oh dear. What am I doing? Eddy!!! What if it goes wrong?" Edd asked, grabbing Eddy's collar.

  Eddy rolled his eyes and brushed off double D's hands, "everything's going to be fine. The worst that would happen is he beats you up! Not like that hasn't happened before." At those words Edd whimpered.

  Ed hugged double D, "Everything will be alright! Don't you worry your big chin about that!"

   They continued walking the hallways until the bell ring for first period. Edd walked into their class and sat at his seat in the front while Eddy and Ed sat in the back corner. Double D arranged his paper neatly on his desk and got a pencil out. He looked up and made a noise in the back of his throat. Kevin walked in the classroom with a pencil and notebook. His eyes locked with Edd's and he smiled.

  "Yo, double Dork! What's up?" He greeted, doing a finger gun.

  Edd stammered, "oh noth-- nothing much. What about.... you?"

  He chuckled, "nothing much for me either! Can't wait to hear what you have to tell me later!" Kevin walked to the middle of the classroom and sat at his seat.

   The teacher walked in, "good morning, class! How are we doing today?" There were several scattered 'good's and 'fine's throughout the class.

  "That's good to hear! To start this week, I would like to take the time to introduce the new student. She just came from Michigan, how exciting! Let's give a warm welcome to Marie Kanker."

  Several of the students gasped and jumped in their seats. Marie walked into the class and smiled softly. She had on a black hoodie with gray sleeves and dark jeans. She waved.

  "Hey, everyone... It's nice to see you all again!" She greeted.

  The teacher smiled, "anyone want to be this nice lady's desk neighbor?"

   Hardly anyone said anything. It was the quietest it has ever been in that room.

  Edd raised his hand, "Marie can sit by me, ma'am." More gasps erupted from students that were familiar with what happened in middle school.

  "That is so thoughtful, Edd! Why don't you go take your seat, Ms. Kanker?” Marie sat beside double D and raised her knuckle to fist bump. Edd smiled and fist bumped back.

   The rest of the morning consisted of class time. And between classes the other kankers would meet with the eds and they would all chat. By the time the lunch bell rang they all got to know each other better. The kankers and Eddy put together their food in the tray line while Ed and double D waited at the end of the line. Edd had some homemade lunch in a lunchbox and so did Ed. Once the kankers and Eddy finished, they all began to walk to a table.

  Before they could get to a table, though, some football players stopped them. They were trapped beside the jock table.

  "Woah woah, losers. Where are you going?" Larry said with a smirk.

  "Umm to eat! What's it to yah?" Eddy sassed, narrowing his eyes.

  "Not before the show!" Another football player chimed in.

  "Show?" Edd asked. He looked at the table and saw Kevin, who looked confused but curious.

  Double D blushed and looked away, "oh dear..."

   Kyle stood up on top of the lunch table and cleared his throat, "Attention students of peach Creek high! I have a poem I would like to read to you!" He smirked at the eds and kankers while pulling out a blue piece of paper from his pocket.

  "my dearest friend, Kevin,

It may come as a shock, but I can contain this no longer--" Kyle began. Edd realized what was happening and he paled.

  "You mean the world to me. A world that I never want to lose. I'm usually so shy but when I see you, I want to become confident. In sappy terms, your hair is as fiery as my love for you. Your green eyes captivate me into a land so pure and untouched. I don't know if you will even see this, but I want you. I am infatuated by you. Please give me a chance.

Love," Kyle folded up the note and smiled evilly at Edd.

  "Eddward'"

   All eyes locked on double D. There were a few gasps from the cul-de-sac kids. The jocks started to laugh.

  Larry pointed at Edd, "I didn't know the nerd was a fag! That is so funny!" He laughed.

  "I know! I can't believe he thinks THE Kevin would go out with the likes of him!" Kyle cackled. The taunting laughter grew around Edd. His face turned red as he looked around at the judgmental faces. He saw Marie look at him sympathetically. Eddy was glaring at Kyle and cracked his knuckles. Ed looked worriedly at Edd.

  Double D's eyes grazed over to Kevin; who's eyes were locked on his. Edd couldn't tell the emotion they had but he was convinced it was contempt. Edd felt his eyes water and his hands shake. The laughter grew in his ears so much that it became unbearable. He felt overwhelmed and embarrassed. He busted into tears and pushed past the football players blocking the door and ran down the hall.

   Edd barely felt his legs under him, all he could feel was the burning he felt in his throat and the breaking of his heart. The tears fell with every step he took. Finally, he made it to the science lab, the one place he felt safe at that moment. He made his way into the room and was grateful that it was empty. He went to a corner, sat down against it and cried, hugging his knees tightly.

  'how did they end up with the note?' he thought. His mind went to when he got beat up and remembered that they dug in his pockets.

  "Fuck!" Double D cried, frustrated and broken. 'he got embarrassed. My note was read to him in front of the entire school! He would never accept me now.' told himself. His tears burned his eyes and suffocated him.

  This went on for a couple minutes and Edd felt like he was going to die from dehydration. That's when the door opened. He sniffed and looked up to see Kevin looking at him. Edd made a fearful noise and covered his face with his arms.

  "I'm... I'm sorry, Kevin! I didn't mean for anyone to read that note. Especially not to you! Please don't hit me!" Edd exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut.

   There was silence. Then he heard footsteps. They stopped in front of him.

  "Hey, dork." Kevin said softly. He pulled Edd's arms down from his face. Edd kept his eyes closed and more tears fell. He jumped when he felt Kevin's hand grace his cheek, wiping his tears gently.

  "Edd," Kevin whispered, "please look at me." The use of his name and the begging tone in Kevin's voice coaxed Edd to open his eyes slowly. His pupils met the others'.

  Kevin searched his eyes, "did you mean what you wrote in that letter?"

  "Yes." Is all Edd would allow himself to say, his tears making his chin itchy.

  Kevin smirked a little and leaned forward, kissing Edd softly. Double D's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe what was happening was real. He felt tears well up again as he kissed back desperately. He gripped onto Kevin's shirt as he let himself fall into the kiss. The world around them blurred into sunsets and stars. It was as if they teleported to a different reality, one where it was just them. Kevin held Edd's face in his calloused hands and opened his mouth a little, licking double D's lips. Edd blushed and opened his own mouth. Their tongues danced, not holding back from the other.

  They stayed like that for a while before Kevin separated their lips. Edd looked in the Jock's eyes, his cheeks red as a beet and eyes wet and irritated. Kevin reached down and caressed Edd's hand.

  "Is this... You..." Edd cleared his throat, "so you're not mad?"

  Kevin smiled, "No. Not at you, anyway. I have to say, I didn't think you liked me in that way. Especially after the kankers returned. I thought since you and Marie were being so close that you and her were a thing. When did you start liking me?"

  Double D looked at their hands, "When we started high school, during the bonfire ceremony. I saw you laughing by the fire and I felt warm. I want to feel like that all the time. Since then, every time we would talk or hang out, I felt that feeling. I didn't know you liked me too. When?"

  "Well... This is going to be embarrassing, but it was when we chased you and the other dorks to Eddy's brother. When I saw you so confident, I fell in love. I never seen you like that toward someone older than us. Then you got hurt and I couldn't stand it. I wanted to protect you." Kevin but his lip.

  Edd looked up at him, "that long? I never knew! I always thought... You and Nazz."

  "Nah. Nazz and I had a falling out that entire week and me finding out my feelings for you, I had to end it. She was cool about it too." The two smiled at each other and Edd wrapped his arms around Kevin's neck, hugging him.

  "You've made me so happy, you jerk."

  Kevin blushed and hugged him back, "it's nothing, double Dork. You've made me happy too." The bell rang and Kevin stood up, helping Edd on his feet. They made their way out to the hallway holding hands.

   Before they got to class, they saw the kankers, eds, and the other kids from the cul-de-sac walk out of the principal's office. Eddy, Lee, and Rolf had bloody noses and bruises. Nazz and May had messed up hair and scratches. Johnny, Sarah, Marie, and Jimmy had black eyes. Ed was fine and smiling.

  "Oh dear! What happened??!" Edd exclaimed, running up to the group.

  "We beat them up, double D!" Ed said excitedly.

  "When you ran off, we defended you! No one is going to humiliate our friend!" Nazz declared.

  "You owe me, sockhead." Eddy groaned in pain.

  "Why were you in the principal's office then?" Kevin asked.

  "We have detention for getting in a fight." Johnny said.

  "But the bastard-boys Kyle and Larry got suspended for taking things and bullying the ed-boy!" Rolf piped up.

  "You all did that... For me?" Edd asked.

  "Of course!" Marie piped up.

  "So, are you two together now?" Jimmy asked.

  Kevin looked over at Edd and smirked, "I don't know, are we, dork?"

  Edd blushed and laughed, "yes I assume we are!"

   After school ended, the group went to detention. Edd and Kevin tried to join them since it started with them, but the teacher wouldn't allow it. So, the two decided to sit outside and wait. They sat on the grass and looked up at the sunset together. The autumn leaves falling around them and a gentle breeze blowing against them. Kevin put his hand on Edd's.

  Eddward smiled and looked at Kevin, "is it alright if I lean my head on your shoulder?"

  "you don't have to ask me." Kevin said, pulling Edd closer to him. Double D leaned his head on the other's shoulder. Edd felt warm again and looked at the sky from Kevin's shoulder, their fingers interlocked. The feeling of comfort and love they felt while watching the sky was so warm and safe that they wondered why they haven't come clean before.

  "Kevin, I know our togetherness is very unconventional, but I promise to be there for you always." Kevin looked down at Edd on his shoulder.

  "I will be there for you too, dude. You mean the world to me.”

  Edd blushed and smiled. Kevin graced his fingers along Edd's jaw and kissed him deeply. Double D felt at home there in Kevin’s arms.

[A/N: I know this ending was cliche and a little self-indulgent, but I thought that since this year is shit that everyone deserved some sappy-happy endings! I hope you have enjoyed this story and I thank you so very much for taking the time to read it!]

[promptis-imagines]

ficlet for @tropical-halo-stuff because she was sick and deserves love (I know I am late and you’re fine now but...free promptis?)

anyway love u here is some words

Noctis sneezed and wrapped the blanket further around him. "I don't want it," he whined.

"Aw, c'mon, Noct. Please? Iggy said it would help," pleaded Prompto, who was sat beside him on the couch with a container of warm soup. Vegetable soup, to be precise.

A deep pout formed on Noctis' lips, which he promptly buried under the blanket. "Lies. That stuff will just make me feel worse."

Prompto mirrored his pout. "You act like I'm trying to kill you."

"Maybe you are."

"Hey, I'm not going on trial for murdering a royal," Prompto responded. He set down the container and crossed his arms. "Besides, I'd like to keep my boyfriend alive, even if he is super stubborn. So, please?" Clasping his hands together, he tipped his head and gazed at Noctis with the biggest puppy eyes he'd been met with in a while.

Noctis was hardly convinced. "I dunno, Prom. What if I hate it so much I get more sick? That would just suck," he argued.

Prompto dropped the face and raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm not kissing you until your cold goes away, right?"

That got him to pause. Then, in a moment that was borderline painful for him, Noctis sighed. "I might be able to tolerate just the broth. Keep the actual veggies away from me," he conceded.

And then Prompto was up, a huge grin spread across his face. "Alright, good enough! I'll get it in a bowl for ya."

With a heavy sigh that ultimately turned into a sneeze, Noctis sank further into the couch. The things he did for love. Once he got better, he was going to kill Ignis for this.

Soon enough, there was a bowl nestled in his lap. A small rag was placed under it to keep the heat away, but Noctis was still considering pouring the hot liquid onto himself to avoid having to actually eat it. Of course, Prompto was bribing him with future kisses, which was a real low. Noctis didn't know why he agreed; he didn't even think that this stuff would make him better any faster.

"I change my mind," Noctis announced.

Prompto scrambled to reach for the bowl that Noctis was trying to unsteadily move away. "Aw, Nooooct," he whined. "That's no fair. I used up all of my skill heating that up, you know," he resisted, carefully guiding the bowl back.

Noctis groaned. "I'm sure you've got plenty of skill left over. How about we throw it out and don't tell Ignis?"

All of the playfulness seemed to dissipate from Prompto's posture. "I mean, I guess that's possible. But…" He trailed off with a deep sigh. "I guess I'm just worried. I really do want you to feel better, y'know? The more you avoid stuff that can help, the worse you might get. That scares me sometimes, Noct."

There was an almost tangible sadness in the air around Prompto. A pit of guilt formed heavily in Noctis' stomach, and he looked down at the soup.

When he glanced back up to make a weak argument, he was cut short by a sniffle from his boyfriend. "Whoa, Prom, I'm not gonna die or anything," he rushed to reassure. He reached out to place a hand on the other's shoulder while he rubbed at his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Prompto murmured. "Just got sad thinking about it for a second, there." Ah, shit.

Sighing, Noctis let his head fall back against the back of the couch, then picked up the spoon and took a sip of the soup with a grimace. He had to close his eyes to imagine it was something else as he took a few more spoonfulls of the stuff.

What got him to stop was not what he expected to hear. Not soft crying this time, but giggling.

The spoon hit the rim of the bowl with a clatter. "Wait, why are you laughing at me?" he demanded.

Prompto's light giggles turned into snorts of laughter. "Because I didn't think you'd take that seriously. Man, maybe I was born to be an actor," he joked.

Noctis' pout deepened. He would've considered tossing the bowl at Prompto if he didn't love him so much. Instead, he made a dramatic show of setting the bowl on the coffee table, shoving it as far away as he could reach, and curling back into the couch with the blanket cocooning him from head to toe.

"Noct, don't vanish on me!" He felt a heavy weight fall onto his side, and he grunted in annoyance.

"Nope, you lost boyfriend privileges," came Noctis' muffled reply.

The weight on him shifted into more of a comfortable hug, easily moving Noctis from upset to cozy. Damn Prompto's embrace for being so calming.

Peeking out ever so slightly, Noctis found that Prompto's cheek was rested on his shoulder. He sighed and stifled a sneeze, then turned his body so that Prompto could more easily lay on top of him. "You're so mean to me." The words held no malice, and Noctis even slid his arms around the other's middle. "The worst."

"I know," Prompto agreed with a grin. "And now I can tell Iggy that I got you to eat the soup."

Noctis gave him a little squeeze. "Can't believe you took advantage of me like that. I thought you were actually sad over me, you dork," he commented.

"Nah, I know you'll get better. Just wanted to hurry up the process a little."

The two settled into a comfortable hold, albeit with a blanket between them. Oh well, more cushion for Prompto.

With a hum and closed eyes, Noctis tipped his head to the side. "You owe me a cheek kiss for that one," he stated, like he was announcing a royal decree.

Prompto chuckled. "Alright, fair's fair." His warm lips found Noctis' skin in a brief kiss. "There you go, highness," he teased.

"Hm…one more?"

"One more."

As Noctis reveled in that soothing extra kiss, he knew he already forgave Prompto for tricking him. At least he was trying to help, he had to tell himself. Plus, who knew, maybe he'd get real kisses a lot sooner.

Noctis heaved a sigh. "Wanna watch a movie while I recover?"

Prompto lifted his head. "From the cold or from the soup?" he asked.

"Yeah," Noctis replied.

That got Prompto to snort. "Figured. But sure, we can watch a movie. Only if I can use you as a pillow the whole time, though." That was a pretty good condition, so Noctis nodded.

"Deal."

[barnesandco]

Nikah: January

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief, war.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. This story will update on weekends, with two chapters each on Saturdays and Sundays. Tags are open, and for now I’m only tagging those on my permanent list. You can always let me know if you want to be added or taken off of something. I look forward to your comments and hope that you enjoy.

Bucky Barnes did not plan to start the new year as a married man. Not until three weeks ago, when this entire ordeal began. Yet here he is, a gold band on his prosthetic hand that is buried beneath the pillow under his head, while he watches his near-stranger bride sleep next to him. They’ve met in person a grand total of two times, the second being the marriage ceremony itself. Ceremony is an overstatement, he thinks. They eloped. Oh, if his ma could see him now. Bruised and war-torn, reborn from Hydra’s ashes with the marvel of Wakandan technology, married to a woman he hardly knows. And it’s all Peter Parker’s fault.

It had started with his silence. Slowly but surely, the youngest Avenger, known for his jubilant enthusiasm, had become unnervingly quiet. 

One week, and they begin to notice. Curious look and additional encouragements to involve him.

Two weeks, and they suspect he misses Tony more than usual. It’s been several months, but the grief comes and goes in waves. Laughter can turn quickly into tears. Bucky’s seen them smile at a joke and turn to the head of the table, or a corner of the room, looking for Tony or Nat’s response respectively, only for the smile to fall at the proof of their absence. They give him time, Sam gives him a talk, and Pepper, an invitation to lunch at the lakehouse.

Three weeks, and they return from a multiple-week mission and brake outside the kitchen like eavesdropping teenagers. The actual teenagers - Peter and Wanda - are inside discussing something. By the distress in Peter’s voice, it’s whatever’s been bothering him recently.

“-but if the student visa doesn’t expire for another year, why is she applying already?” Wanda’s asking from the stove, stirring a Sokovian soup. Peter puts a Tupperware container of extra chopped vegetables in the fridge. Leans on the marble countertop, sighing.

“She suspected that they might reject her. He PhD ends in June so she’s applying for a green card instead, but immigration policies are stricter now. Especially for people from Muslim countries, and she’s Pakistani. It isn’t fair,” He reiterates, tastes the soup. Anything to distract from his shaking hands. Wanda looks on worriedly. “I just mean- like- she’s been living here for almost ten years. She just wants to be a permanent resident. If they don’t let her, she’ll have to go back. She doesn’t want to, but she’ll have to,” He concludes, opening the tap and initiating clean-up.

“And she’s… important… to you,” Wanda states, looking over her shoulder, giving him room to elaborate.

“She helped me with English class and lit in middle school. She was there when Ben died, when Tony died, she’s just been constant, y’know?” He explains. Wanda puts down the wooden spoon, rests a hand on the counter and absorbs her friend’s morose expression.

“So now what?”

“There’s no way they’ll extend her visa. She’ll probably try again for a green card, but I don’t think it’ll work. If she had a steady job, she could apply for a work visa, but she’s freelance. The only other thing I can think of is marriage to a US citizen.”

He hopes it works. The marriage. Green card by family, by marriage, by him vouching for her. The ring is constricting around his finger, a heavy weight reminding of the sanctity of marriage, and how he’s breaching it. He wonders if she feels the same way. At present, she appears unperturbed, lying on her side facing him. The hand bearing the ring is in front of her face, resting on the pillow like a crown on its pedestal. The scarce daylight, just cloudy watercolor, tip-toes through the gap in his blackout curtains, casting a thing stream of moonlight across her face. Snow day.

They had barely made it to his apartment last night before the blizzard hit. She had been quiet then, even more so than now, when he can at least hear her sleep-steady breaths escape the cage built by the pink pillows of her lips. Eyelashes like snowflakes against the bags under her eyes. 

The mildly disturbing nature of his actions occurs to him, and he decides to stop. Gets out of bed and tenses when she shifts.  The duvet slides down, revealing her white night-gown. Bucky moves, steps as soft and sneaky as fog on the carpet, to her side. Lifts the duvet up to her ching, grazing her silk-clad shoulder in the process. A mumble, and he holds his breath, but thankfully, she stays asleep.

Shutting his - their - bedroom door behind him, he makes for the bathroom first. The shower is scalding hot, and his skin pinks quickly. The Wakandan shampoo is running out. He makes a note to ask Shuri for more, and thinks about what American item to send in return. Dunkin’ Donuts, perhaps. 

Coconut goes well with the raspberry scent of his new wife’s body wash, already embedded in the walls because she takes evening showers. Claims they help her sleep. It didn’t help last night, however, because she tossed and turned throughout, only coming to rest around three. Bucky didn’t fare any better, eyes shutting an hour later. 

He rinses his hair, the condensation from the steam on his arm washing off. Resumes his morning rituals - conditioner, shower gel, rinse, dry off. As he’s towelling himself dry, he takes in the evidence of her presence once again. The bottle of lotion on the vanity, the make-up removal wipes in the cabinet next to his shaving things. Like this is all perfectly normal.

It is, of course, everything but. You don’t marry someone you don’t know. The gravity of his actions tug on his stomach as he walks past the couch he offered to sleep on. He hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable, but she had vehemently refused to kick him out of his own bed. Said she would rather sleep in the snow outside. He’s sure she would have, too, given the excuse, and she would’ve melted the snow into steaming puddles around her, anger coming off red-hot like the sun’s rage.

He lights the stove and fetches the ingredients necessary for pancakes. Opens a recipe on his tablet. Never made them on his own a day in his life - Sam’s are better, but he’ll never tell him that. Something in him just wants to put her at ease. Anyone who cares to look past the stiff demeanor, the jasmine flower in her hair, the reluctant mehndi on her hands, the fire in her eyes, will see resentment. At the government, God, fate, destiny - all scapegoats to blame for putting her in this situation. For reducing her to getting married just to stay in the country she considers home.

Bucky is, too. Resentful, that is. What’s worse is, he doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand where the love went. Then he feels guilty, snorts at his own naivete, his blissful ignorance. Lover boy Bucky Barnes. He was never one for politics, he thinks, pouring the first pancake. What little he remembers of his youth wafts up; taking care of Becca, taking care of Steve, taking girls on dates, taking the ship to the war, taking out Nazis. Even in the trenches, where soldiers had a tendency to question Roosevelt, or cuss at Hitler, he’d order them to shut up and shoot. If us fellas were meant to do nothin’ but talk, we’d be in Congress already, but we ain’t. So quit blabberin’ and do your jobs.

The second pancake is on the platter. A door opens somewhere down the hall. He waits, still and patient, as footsteps enter the bathroom and the sound of his sizzling frying pan and running water washes out the anxiety of talking to her. He will have to, at some point or the other. They live together. She had suggested briefly that they not, hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he reminded her of his public image. People would most certainly notice if he wasn’t living with his wife, and then where would they be?

Said wife is now in the kitchen, wringing her hands, the glass bangles - chooriyan - chiming, and he pretends to be unaware. 

“James?” This plan doesn’t last very long, and he turns to see that she’s wearing what he would call a tunic if Peter hadn’t taught him it’s a kameez - he’s been giving him desi culture lessons - over a pair of jeans.

“Just Bucky, please. Mornin’. Sleep well?” He returns to the pancakes, blushing at his ineptitude. Tries to convince himself it’s okay, she’s an introvert, too. She’s uncomfortable around new people, too. The pancake tower is now five high.

“You should’ve woken me. Why are you making breakfast by yourself?” She ignores his question, a question he doesn’t know why he asked if he knows the answer to, and comes up to stand next to him at the counter.

“Why would I do that? I can cook, you know,” He says, only half in jest, the joke the first of the day, of the year, of their relationship. She smiles - a reward.

“Yeah, but still…” She trails off, then shakes away what’s troubling her. Bucky files that response under Things to Worry About Later. “I can see that you can cook. A little too well, it seems,” She laughs, gesturing to the sizable stack. “Can you eat five pancakes?” She asks with wonder.

“What do you mean?” 

“I can’t eat more than two, and you just flipped your seventh one, so that means you’ll have to-”

“Don’t worry. They’ll be gone before you can say super-metabolism,” He reassures, and she nods dubiously.

“Can I at least set the table?” Bucky looks at her, soft and kind and wise, wishes that she didn’t have to experience this. Forcing a marriage to stay in the place she loves. What has the world come to?

He shows her where the plates are, sets about pulling out various pancake toppings. Syrup, honey, berries, Nutella. She places the plates on the table, brings him the pot of coffee he forgot he made. Finally, they sit. Minutes of utensils colliding and the pancake stack diminishing pass before either of them say anything. She pours him coffee.

“Thanks. You didn’t pour any for yourself,” He says, frowning around a mouthful of blueberries. 

“I don’t drink coffee?”

“Tea?”

“Yeah, but-” Bucky begins to get up but she reaches for his hand, chooriyan clinking against the vibranium. “I don’t feel like it today,” She tells him, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“You should’ve said something,” He says, upset at not being able to provide for a guest, the guest who’s going to be staying for a while. She shakes her head, spreads Nutella across her second pancake.

“It’s not that big a deal,” She laughs, cutting a piece. “Some days I feel like it and some days I don’t.”

“Okay.”

They finish breakfast in silence, and Bucky drinks more coffee than he should. She’s just picked up the dishes and is picking up a bottle of dish soap when Bucky opens the dishwasher and and takes both the dishes and the soap from her hands. Rinses and stacks them, then looks up at her as he’s drying his hands, still kneeling at the dishwasher. Observes the protest turn to surprise and then to veiled joy, and thinks: they might just make it through this.

Taglist:  @suz-123​ @mermaidxatxheart​ @buckyreaderrecs​ @shield-agent78​ @corneliabarnes​ @readerandcinephileingeneral​ @stevieboyharrington​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @veganfangirl5​ @mood-pancakes​ @lbuck121​

[modestlyabsurd]

An Old Memory (Loki x Reader)

A quaint, modest home nearly a century old with a faint aura of history. Curtains still flowing across windows, pinned back to allow yellow sunlight into the kitchen. Upon looking, one could feel the hustle and bustle of happy company, smell the coffee steeping in the old pot that shouldn't possibly still work, and see a young woman preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her small family. Huddled around the stove, watching her movements as well as the pumpkin pie she mixed, were young and old children alike. The woman let the youngest of the three lick the spoon before shooing them from the heated oven.

He opened his eyes from the distant memory.

Now, the home smelt simply of cleanliness and very light perfume that had not been misted in some time. The stovetop and surrounding countertops had a thin layer of dust upon them. The floors were clean, the air was a medium temperature due to proper cooling of the home. He looked around, walked quietly, into the living room. It left a lingering touch; forgotten, almost. Furniture arranged for plenty of guests (of all ages, by the large chest of toys in the corner) a television, a computer.

All was there, except any life.

He went over to the wall and studied the framed faces hanging proudly. He recognized her in many of them. In one she donned a blue dress, gazing lovingly into a man's eyes. Her hand on his face, their foreheads touching. The man was much larger than her, holding her closely in a field of grass.

The next was her in mid-laughter, hugging a smiling baby to her face. Radiant, alive. The following photographs displayed somewhat of a timeline, as she is pictured with two growing children, one boy and one girl, as well as grandchildren.

He looked into each room, there being only three. Two were empty, used as storage space with boxes stacked in every corner. Before he reached the back bedroom, a key turned in the front door. It opened. He quickly made himself invisible.

A woman entered. She carried market bags, visibly filled with food, and set them heavily on the counter. He nearly mistakes her for her mother, before he can clearly see their small differences.

This girl had swimming blue eyes, light hair, and was of course clothed up to date. But her body language so eerily resembled ... alas. With beads of stress over her face, she emptied the bags, which contained enough prepared meals for days. She then went into a cabinet above her head, pulled down a transparent shallow box, and emptied something from it as well; all in a habitual motion.

"Mama?" She called out, filling a glass with water. "I brought you some lunch!" Her accent was so easily recognized, he no longer questioned the roles here.

The lively woman of roughly twenty or thirty Midgardian years of age bounced past him unknowingly, to the bedroom he had yet to see. He watched from a distance as she knocked on the open door before entering, going to the middle of the room where a bed sat and a person lay motionless.

"Wakey wakey Mama, you don't wanna miss the sunshine."

The ancient lady opened her small, heavy eyes. They looked around the room, before settling on the young lady beside her. "Hey Lillie," she said.

"Hey there!" Lillie smiled down at her aged mother. "It's lunch time, you know that?You asked for something soupy earlier, so I made you some homemade chicken noodle. I hope it's half as good as yours was," said Lillie, showing the bowl of soup. Then, she began to spoon feed her mother's lunch to her.

This, is what finally caused Loki's throat to become hard and dry.

Every spoonful, every bit, every sip of water. For nearly thirty minutes, making mundane conversation in between. He started to wonder where Lillie acquired the strength of heart and mind to complete these grievous tasks. In his own mind, he could never do such things for even those closest to him.

Little by little, Lillie fed her mother until she began eating slower and slower. Eventually, she wouldn't open her mouth to the food. "You full now? Must've liked it, heck, there's hardly any left!" Lillie laughed.

"It was scrump-dilly-umptious. Thank you baby," she responded, taking the cloth laid under her chin and blotting her lips.

Lillie smiled, "You don't have to thank me Mama. I'm just happy to hear it was worth eating. Now we gotta take your medicine, okay?" Lillie took the tablets she'd placed on the bedside table along with the remaining water in her glass. "Alright, I'm gonna put 'em in there, then you swallow 'em with the water, okay? Ready?" And she did.

For another hour the two generations spoke of nature, current Midgardian events and random pieces of life's perspectives. Loki remained invisible to them for the duration, keeping his pained emotions inside until Lillie left.

After that, with caution, he uncloaked himself and stood in the doorway, watching the circle of human life taking its course. This was a cruel curse, he deemed, certainly cast upon the wrong person. She fell in and out of sleep, small sounds escaping her throat occasionally. Loki didn't know how long he had left.

With some uncertainty, he calls out her name.

She opened her eyes, and scanned around the room once more. Her gaze fell upon the strange man clothed in green armor. "Who's there?" her delicate voice asked.

Loki cleared his throat. "Loki," he paused, "of Asgard."

Her brow furrowed, as the name and vocals didn't register. "Loki? I, I don't know a Loki."

He entered slowly, careful with his steps, and careful not to startle the frail woman he once knew quite well. He sat in the chair that Lillie sat in before, by Y/N's bedside. Her confused eyes followed him intently; guarded. He recalled those eyes. Bright, squinting ever so slightly when she smiled or laughed. Now overshadowed by soft, wrinkled skin; the captivating brightness somehow remained in her irises.

Loki gently took her hand from her side, feeling it tremble. "You don't remember me, darling?" a smile ghosted his lips as they locked gazes. "I don't believe my appearance has changed drastically. Yours certainly hasn't either."

"Loki," she paused, trailing off into deep thought. She nodded, "It rings a bell. And I suppose you look a little familiar."

"Think back to when you were eighteen. You once had a dream that you'd left Midg- er, Earth, and ascended into another world. Do you remember that?"

Staring straight ahead - confused, worried, but beginning to recall - she nodded. "Yeah, yeah I do. There was people there, and... and it wasn't much different than Earth. They talked funny, kinda like you are right now."

"Yes," Loki breathed, holding her hand closer to him. "And on the journey back to Earth, the BiFrost began to crumble. Someone caught you before you fell to the abyss. Do you remember?"

"Yeah," she exclaimed as the emotions of this event washed over her once again. "The one everybody told me to be scared of, and I was. I was scared of him from the things I'd heard. He'd apparently killed a whole lot of people, and hurt twice as many. He was some kind of royalty there." She swallowed, "but a fight broke out on the bridge to Earth, and it started to break and I fell. But somebody grabbed my wrists before I was too far. I, I saw him. I screamed for my life, 'cause it was him. The one they'd told me about. Loki, that was his name. After that, I  stayed with him there for a little while longer and got to know him and, and," she trailed off. Her eyes darted back to the dark man beside of her. "It was you!"

Loki laughed and kissed her small knuckles. "Indeed. Though it was not a dream, my darling."

She glanced at her hand, Loki drawing over her protruding veins with his ghostly pale thumbs. To make sure this wasn't a dream either, she raised it, pressed her palm to his cheek. It was cold. Just as it used to be.

Everything began pouring back to Y/N as her medication took effect. She remembered accidentally winding up in another planet, another realm, though she didn't quite remember how she got there. That of course didn't matter at the moment as joy flooded her mind and body upon seeing Loki once again; sixty-something years later.

"Well I'll be. You're just as handsome as I remember you, Loki."

"And you are still the most beautiful, charming, most notably intriguing Midgardian I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

She was at a loss for words, the same effect he used to create upon her.

"I saw your daughter. Beautiful, full of life and strength of character. Like her mother."

"Lillie?" Y/N said, "Oh boy, she's something else. I, I don't know what I did to deserve such amazing kids. Taking all that time to come out here and take care of me every day. My son'll be out here by dinner time. Said he's gonna bring my granddaughter with him."

"You're a grandmother," Loki whispered to himself, in awe. "So many things have happened since our short time together. I think of it quite often now."

"Yeah," Y/N sighed, "I did too. Before my mind started leaving me. You know I'd have married you if the laws of physics allowed it."

Shaking his head, he thought back to those times, his actions. "I wanted nothing more than to marry you, my dear. But, as can be seen now," he laughs shortly, "it was not meant to be that way. You were still given a family, just as you always wanted and very well deserved." Loki looked off into the air, a smile painted on his face. "We used to discuss our futures back then. My wishes proved to be far more complicated than your own. I always wanted authority, or, equality, while you simply wished for happiness."

They locked eyes once again. Y/N could listen to Loki speak for hours on end. It was the few times like this that they shared, that she recalled so fondly after they separated. Him talking about anything and everything, in a proper soft spoken tone, unlike what she grew up around.

"Did your dreams come true, darling?"

"They did. After I came back home, I met my husband. For a while, though, all I could think about was you. How I couldn't be with you and all. I missed you real bad. But then he came along a couple years later. Stocky little blond-headed blue-eyed devil. But not at all like your brother. I think you'd have liked him."

"If I may ask, where is he now?" Loki asked, with the idea that he was treading on thin ice.

"Oh, he's been gone for years now. He was a good decade older than me, I think he was eighty-four? Eighty-five when he died? Died of cancer."

"My apologies."

"Oh, it was time. He was ready, and the family was too. He died a happy man." Loki couldn't help but think of the eighty-one-year-old white haired, fragile woman before him now, laying in her bed with little mobility. He shuddered it away for the moment, until her frail, aged voice interrupted such thoughts. "Did your hopes and dreams come true, Loki? I prayed they would."

Her small grip seemed to tighten a bit upon his hesitation to answer. Quite frankly, no. None of his dreams had come true. He was preparing for the war of his life and didn't see much of a happy ending in sight. But he found a source of sad, awful gratitude, in that his friend likely wouldn't suffer the consequences of said war. Not at this rate.

He refused to let her know the complete truth about this. Much like he'd always done, about everything. "No. Not yet, at least." He licks his lips, "But I was never the luckiest chap."

"Give yourself a break," says Y/N, looking straight into his eyes with the same bright sweetness he recalled so fondly. "You never know what's in store. You might think one thing's gonna happen, and then something totally different happens, but it turns out to be better than what you expected to begin with. Don't you have another thousand years or so left on you?"

Loki smiles sadly. A ray of sunshine pours through the window above Y/N's bed. "I suppose theoretically, yes. Nowadays I'm not so sure what my dreams are any more. To rule? To inherit? To love? To leave something behind besides a bad memory?Whenever I get to thinking about it too much it just ... smudges into a blur in my mind. Like a spilled pot of ink." He remembers exchanging letters with her years ago, after opening a passageway for them to do so. He remembers stopping as well. Allowing her letters to pile up on his desk within his prison cell, untouched. Unloved. Detached. How selfish he'd been to leave her without another word, reasonlessly.

The loosening of fingers around his cold hand jerks him back to reality, where the elderly woman's eyes fall closed and her hold slips away. Panicked, a cold sweat coating his neck, he grabs her wrist to feel for signs of life. A faint but steady pulse beats within her veins. He leans over her to listen for her breath, and it's there, in deep low snores. She's only fallen asleep.

Loki takes this to mean his time to reunite with Y/N has expired. Gently above creaking floorboards, he swallows down a wave of cries and stands; he notices the lines of concern on her forehead and kisses them, before silently bidding her farewell for the last time.

And on his way through the BiFrost back to Asgard, he allows himself to feel. The waves of light sweep away the tears, the whirring of speed muffles the cries. A series of realizations wash over him, but the most important being that something is about to give in the universe - and he's going to be part of it.

When he arrives at the base of the Asgardian palace, guards are lined up along the bridge's barriers. They bow. The gatekeeper Heimdall addresses him.

"Welcome back, Allfather Odin. I take it your journey was pleasant."

"Only as pleasant as a journey to Midgard can be."

~

memoriiiiiaaaaaa

hi hello thanks for reading this sad thing that's been hidden in my notes for years

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @sadwaywardkid @tarynkauai @triggeredpossum

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xix. BUSINESS

          Ivy's eyes opened to bright sunlight bursting through her window. She shifted in her bed, something was different. Yes, she was in Tommo's house but that wasn't it. The girl scanned the room looking for something. Finn was gone. Her heart dropped but she was glad. She was upset that he had gone but at least she didn't have to speak to him, not after what happened last night. "I think I love you, Ivy." The words rattled around the girl's brain and she couldn't get rid of them. Something caught Ivy's eye. A small piece of paper rested on her bedside table that hadn't been there last night. The girl sat up and picked up the note to read it. In a slanted scrawl it read:

'Thank you for taking care of me last night. I'm sorry if I was acting a bit weird, it was just the Tokyo. - Finn'

A lot of the words were spelt wrong but Ivy smiled at the note. The intention was there. A strange sadness washed over her when she had read the words, 'It was just the Tokyo'. The girl shook her head, trying to be rid of the unusual misery that had come over her. She cast her thoughts aside and got dressed.

Ivy made her way down the grand staircase of Tom and Grace's house and to the dining room. Upon entering the room, she noticed that everyone was down there, waiting for her. Tommo and Grace were talking. John held a cigar in one hand and Esme in the other. Arthur and Linda were talking whilst she showed him the Bible. Polly was reading a newspaper while Ada tried to talk politics with her and Michael and Finn were sat opposite each other doing nothing. When she walked into the room, most people's heads snapped towards her. "Don't worry, Ivy. You're not late at all." Michael sarcastically spat. "It's not her fault. I asked Finn to wake her up but he refused." Tom stood up for the girl. Ivy scanned the table for spare seats. The only ones free were one beside Michael and one beside Finn. She chose the lesser of the two evils and sat next to Finn. When she sat down, she noticed the boy tense up and his hands that had been resting on the table were clenched together. The boy's hair was messy and his eyes drooped but he still managed to make the girl's heart flutter. Especially after what he had said last night. "Morning." Ivy said to her friend, trying to loosen up the tense air between them. "Morning." He grumbled, his voice hoarse. The servants started to bring in breakfast and everybody prepared themselves by putting any books or newspapers away. As Ivy ate, she noticed somebody staring at her from across the table. Their gaze was intense and icy.

Michael.

The girl looked straight at him and raised an eyebrow. "I guess the happy couple aren't so happy anymore." Michael mouthed. Ivy placed her fork on the table and raised her middle finger at the man. She was not in the mood for his teasing. Everybody continued to eat their breakfast as usual and Ivy blocked Michael out as much as she possibly could. When the servants had cleaned everyone's plates up, Tom stood from his chair. "There is some business that needs to be dealt with. I'm busy so John, Arthur, Finn and Ivy will take care of it. You have a meeting with the Changrettas in Charlie's yard at midday. It's to do with Lizzie so be careful with what you say."

Ivy wondered who the Changrettas were and what they had to do with Lizzie. She thought the name sounded familiar but she couldn't find out why. People began to leave the table and Arthur called John and the teens over to discuss the business. "Alright you lot, like Tommy said, you've got to be careful with what you say. These Changrettas are nasty Italian bastards and they're not happy with us. You two," The man turned to Finn and Ivy. "Keep your distance from them, especially you, Ivy."

"Why me?" The girl asked curiously. "'Cause if they see something they like, they will take it." A look of disgust passed over Ivy's face. "Wait, wait, wait. What does an Italian family have to do with Lizzie?" Ivy overcame her disgust and asked the Shelbys."She dates one of the wops. Remember?" John told the girl and patted her shoulder. "Ohh." She said, finally realising where she'd heard the name before. "Are there any more questions before we leave?" Nobody responded to Arthur's question so they all followed him out to the car so they could head back to Small Heath.

Ivy and Finn stood at the entrance to Charlie's yard, checking the Italians that were about to meet with John and Arthur. The first man walked over to the pair. He was fairly young with dark eyes and a chiseled jaw. Finn tensed at the way he was eyeing up Ivy. The girl went to start searching the man but Finn held her back. "I'll do them." He offered. Ivy was confused at his proposition, she hadn't noticed the intense gaze the Italian man had cast upon her. "All of them?" She questioned and Finn nodded. Ivy nodded, not wanting to talk to Finn for too long. She observed the men to make sure they weren't hiding any tricks up their sleeves. There were three men in total, two younger ones and an older man.

During the search of the second man, Isaiah emerged from the other side of the bridge. He walked straight over to speak to Ivy because Finn was busy. "Sorry I'm late. I was with Bella," He told the girl. Her eyebrow perked up at the mention of the girl's name. "No, we didn't before you ask. She said I was too high but she might treat me later." Isaiah nudged Ivy's arm and smiles played on both of their lips. A cough sounded from Finn, signifying that they were ready. The trio led the Changrettas into Charlie's yard to where Arthur and John were waiting.

A small table complete with a tablecloth and pot of tea were waiting for the group, a few chairs dotted around the table. It was insulting, really, but these were the Peaky Blinders so it was to be expected. The Italian men had looks of disgust plastered across their faces at the sight of all the horse manure scattered across the floor. "You asked for a meeting out in the open, fresh air and the fine aroma of shit. 'Neutral ground' you said." Arthur announced to the men.

The trio of teenagers stood off to the side, stern looks on all of their faces. "This is hardly neutral ground." The older Changretta, Vincente, said. "Well, it's what you've got," Arthur told them as he took a seat next to John. "So, por favor, sit down."

A smirk was plastered across John's face as he tried to contain his laughter. "Where is Thomas?" Vincente asked, refusing to sit down. "He got called away." John informed the Changrettas. "He said he'd be here." The man replied instantly, his accent getting seemingly thicker as he spoke."Yeah, he is busy." Arthur added. John began to speak again, anger slowly starting to flow through him again. "And I just told you he got called away. What do you want?" He was lent back in his chair with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The Changretta man got closer to the Shelby brothers and Ivy noticed Isaiah and Finn's hands get closer to their guns. "There has been a peace between the Peaky Blinders and the Changretta family for two years now-"

"Do you want some tea or not?" John interrupted the man. "Here, Finn, pour the Italians some English tea. Go on." The boy was reluctant at first but poured the tea into a small china cup. Ivy scoffed at John and he smirked as a response. "We don't want fucking tea!" Vincente spat, shocking everyone with his sudden outburst of anger. Arthur and John exchanged glances, they were up to something and Ivy wanted to know what. Finn slammed the tea cup back onto the table and walked back to his friends. "We want an explanation." Arthur stood up and reached for the cup of tea that Finn had poured. "Well, I'll have some tea." John spoke up again, "Explanation for what?"

"The Little Venice Restaurant on Forge Street was burnt down-" John interrupted the man again, Vincente's anger was rising in his chest like a burning flame, waiting to come bursting out of his throat. "No. No. Couldn't have been us, we was at a wedding."

"You burnt it down to stop my son being at that same wedding." The Italian spat back almost immediately. "He wasn't missed." Arthur muttered under his breath as he sipped his tea. Chuckles circled the group, everyone except for the Italian trio was laughing. "You are such big boys now. But once you borrowed clothes from us to look like men." The Changretta man told the brothers. "How's the tea, Arthur?" John asked his brother, clearly bored from Vincente's speech. The eldest Shelby threw the tea onto the floor, "It's cold." The man shrugged and John giggled under his breath again. Vincente Changretta took a deep sigh before he spoke again. "Please tell Tommy that we pay him whatever he asks us to pay. We stay out of the city and off the tracks," The man took another few steps, getting closer to the brothers. "But you tell him from me that my son will walk with any woman in this city. Any woman he chooses. Even if that woman works for the emperor, Thomas Shelby. My son is in love-"

John snorted, interrupting the man for the third time during their meeting. 'He's a little asshole' Ivy thought to herself, smirking and shaking her head at the same time. "Sorry. Do excuse me. Carry on." John rubbed his face, trying to stop himself from chuckling. There was a long pause as Vincente tried to contain his anger. "And if he wishes, he will walk with the woman he loves." John rubbed his nose and sniffed, "Okay." He agreed to the Italian's proposition. "You know," John reached for the tea pot and poured some more tea into the cup. "It would be hard for your son to walk anywhere with a bullet in each knee, wouldn't it?" He kept digging a hole, trying to anger the man even more than he had already done. He sipped his tea silently.

"Too much." Mr Changretta warned. Ivy didn't find the man even remotely intimidating and found John's insulting taunts quite hilarious. It was probably down to the fact that Vincente let John's taunts go straight to his head and he had obvious reactions to them.

"You said too much, my friend. Sabini says, 'Suck and swallow'. But no. Too much. I spit." The Italian spat on the floor when he had finished speaking. Ivy looked at her friends, they each shared the same look of confusion. "Bit of a strange analogy." The girl told her friends. The Italians started to leave the yard but one stayed behind. The creepy one with the chiseled jaw picked up one of the wooden chairs and smashed it against the ground repeatedly, shattering it into many pieces. Arthur sighed at his actions, annoyed that he broke a chair. "Fucking hell," He muttered. "Isaiah," Arthur called the teen over to him. "Put two extra men on our pubs in Nechells." Isaiah nodded, agreeing to his actions. "What are you talking about, Arthur? We're not scared of the Eyeties anymore." An annoyed and confused John questioned. "Don't tell Tommy about the chair and clean this fucking shit up." Arthur stood up as he barked his orders at the group. "We're not scared of fucking wops!" John shouted back as his brother walked away. Finn moved to start cleaning up the chair as John slumped back in his chair. "For fuck's sake." He muttered under his breath. He took a deep sigh before standing up and walking up to Ivy. "Ivy, I need your help with something." She looked up at the man, "What do you need?" The Shelby only smirked.

John and Ivy had to stop off at the betting shop for a few minutes so John could speak to Polly. He told the girl that his aunt wanted them to apologise and move on. He said that they weren't going to listen. They didn't want to seem soft. The pair walked down the sullen streets of Birmingham, heading for the tailor shop where they would find their target, Angel Changretta. They stopped outside of the door and John turned to Ivy. "If you're not okay with this then you can stay out here."

"No, no. John, it's fine. Anything I can do to help you." The man threw his arm over the girl's shoulder. "That's my girl." He shook her around a little bit before they walked into the shop. They sneaked in and hid behind a clothes rail. Ivy heard footsteps coming from the staircase. She tapped John's shoulder, signifying that their target was there. He gestured for the girl to go in front of him so she could make the first move. "Just there, sir. There." The tailor told the Italian. Ivy stood up, the clothes rail was luckily taller than her. The suits started to move on the rack, Ivy's heart thumped against her chest. She couldn't afford to mess up. The clothes parted fully, revealing Ivy stood there.

She smiled and greeted the man, "Hey." She thrust her fist forward and it connected with the man's nose. He groaned and stumbled backwards. The other Italian that was there went for Ivy. She dodged him and pushed the man towards John. Angel Changretta had fully recovered and was trying to hit Ivy. She dodged every blow, finally going for one of her own. The girl swung her leg at the man, kicking him into the wall behind him. She held the man against the stairs and repeatedly punched him in the face, blood pouring from his nose. To make sure that he was no longer a threat, she grabbed his shoulders and bashed his head against the banister of the stairs. "Fucking hell, Vee." John said from behind her. The Italian that went for him was on the floor unconscious. "Shit. I didn't mean to... I didn't..." The girl started to freak out. "S'alright." John pulled her into a hug, careful not to get blood on her clothes and she did the same.

The girl screamed, somebody had pulled her to the ground. Her head hit the floor and she looked up to find Angel Changretta over her, his fist about to connect with her jaw. Suddenly, he was pulled back. The girl scooted back to sit against the wall, pain shooting through her skull. She saw John over the man, his hat in his hand. "Are you going to kill me?" The man whimpered. "Get fucking up," John wrestled with the man, eventually pushing him against the floor. "Stay away from Lizzie!" He shouted. John pressed his cap into the man's eyes, screams coming from him. Blood squirted out of the wound in the man's eyes. "By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders!" John finished with the man and stood up. He came over to Ivy. "Are you alright?" John helped the girl up and held her face in his hands. "Yeah." Her voice came out as barely a whisper. The man took one last look over her and led her up the stairs of the tailor shop and back to the car. "You should get some sleep." The girl agreed and closed her eyes, trying to forget the blood on her hands.

Ivy woke to John shaking her small frame. "Tommy said he wants you in today," The girl's eyes fluttered open and she noticed that they were outside the betting shop. She went to climb out of the car but John stopped her. "Wash your hands in the kitchen before you go in." Ivy looked at her hands, blood still covered them. "Okay, thank you." John rubbed her shoulder before she got out. The girl was glad to find out that the door was unlocked. She rushed into the house and straight into the kitchen so she could wash her hands. The girl furiously washed her hands, trying to be as quick as possible. Unbeknownst to the girl, Thomas was standing at the entrance to the betting shop, watching her. She turned around and noticed the man there. She jumped and clutched her heart. "Shit, Tommo. How long have you been there for?" He walked towards the girl and grabbed her hands. "John took you to the Changrettas then?" She nodded, not wanting to say anything more to the Shelby man. He didn't ask anymore questions, which she was grateful for, and he left to go to his office. She let out a deep sigh and finished washing her hands. Ivy was glad to be back at work, though. The girl had a couple of days off because of Tommo's wedding but she was back to stay, at least for a while.

That day was also a Friday, meaning that she was going to stay with her father later that night so she had to try and rush through the majority of her work so she wasn't behind. She was also excited to work in her new office. She had been moved to a slightly nicer room. Unfortunately, it was opposite Michael's but she did her best to ignore the man. Ivy walked to her office, but on her way she heard a noise that instantly perked her ears up. A female giggle. She paused in her place, about to walk into her office. Slowly, she turned around to look at Michael's door. More giggles came from his room. 'He's with the whore. Isn't he?' Ivy asked herself. Since he was being annoying at breakfast, she thought that she would return the favour. The girl walked into her office and grabbed some papers that were already finished and stopped back outside Michael's door. She could see shadows moving around inside and different sounds were coming from the interior, rather than giggles. Ivy was familiar with the sound. It was Michael moaning.

'Perfect' She said to herself, a cynical smirk plastered across her face. Ivy knocked but she didn't wait for a reply. As she walked in, she heard desperate scrambling. The girl decided to play dumb. "I've got some papers for you, Boss." She knew that she would piss him off if she called him that. His face was flushed and clothes were scruffy. "T-thank you, Ivy. You can go now."

He tried to rush her out of the room. She walked closer to the desk and slammed her work on the desk. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?" Ivy asked and tilted her head, her hands placed firmly on the desk. Michael's face dropped, annoyed that Ivy had realised that somebody else was in the room. He pushed his chair backwards but not before zipping his trousers up. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Charlotte, this is Ivy. Ivy, this is Charlotte." A girl with brown hair sheepishly stood up from under the desk, her cheeks a bright shade of crimson. She recognised the girl as the crack whore from Tom's wedding. "It's so nice to meet you properly!" Ivy beamed and stuck her hand out for Charlotte to shake. Charlotte looked lost, she didn't know what to do. She glanced at her hands and they were slick with a mysterious substance. Ivy knew full well what it was. The Solomons grabbed the girl's hand and shook it firmly. Michael's face was one of anger and confusion. When the girls pulled away, there was a string of the mysterious substance. Ivy didn't look at it but she knew it was there. "Well, sir, I'll be in my office should you need me."

The girl went to leave but stopped at the door because Michael called out to her. "I'll be having words with you later." He warned. "Yes, Boss." Luckily, Charlotte had her back to Ivy. The Solomons finally looked at her hand then showed it to Michael. She winked and licked the substance off of her hand then left the room, closing the door behind her. "Prick." She muttered as she walked into her own office, cleaning the rest of her hand. Her work was interrupted fairly soon after she sat down, though. Thomas burst into the room, demanding that she come with him. They walked towards the kitchen. Ivy saw Finn coming out of it after something Arthur had said. "Finn, you can stay." Tom told him as him and Ivy walked in. The boy smirked and went back into the room.

"Tommo, this is a family meeting. I shouldn't be here." Ivy spoke up after realising the other people in the room. "Stay. This involves you." Tom told her and she stayed still, curious at what he was going to say. The girl noticed from the corner of her eye that Finn was staring at her. The smirk had fallen off of his face and he looked sad. His eyes were puffy, probably from crying. Ivy's heart dropped. Things were still awkward between them but she hated seeing her friends upset. "Sit down, John. You too, Ivy," Thomas ordered. Both of them followed his instruction. Tom took a long pause before speaking again "You two cut Angel Changretta,"

Nausea filled Ivy, if she had known that she was going against Tom's orders, she probably wouldn't have gone along with it.

"Even though Arthur told you to apologise. Polly told you to compromise. You chose not to listen to Mr Apologise or Mrs Compromise. Ivy I can understand that you were just following orders but show more initiative next time, eh?" The girl kept her eyes trained on the ground, too ashamed to make eye contact. She was already regretting what she did, regardless of whether she went against Tommo. "Now I've got an Italian walking around my backyard saying he's going to kill my brother and Alfie Solomons' daughter. So what do we do, eh? Should we apologise or do we compromise?" Ivy thought that the adult should answer since her word counts for very little. John let out a long breath but didn't respond. Silence filled the room. "Oh, it was just something John said as a joke." Arthur tried to defend the pair but kept his voice low. "Yeah but he's your brother as well, Arthur and Ivy is pretty much your sister." Thomas kept his own voice low. "Yeah," Arthur simply responded. "I know I didn't want to start a war over something John said without meaning it." Tommo grunted and spoke again. "So, should he apologise in Italian or in English?" The question confused both Ivy and John, they both looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed."Or should we ask them which fucking language they prefer? I'm not clear." Polly put her hand on Arthur's arm and took a chance to speak. "You said while this business was going on in London, you wanted peace at home."

"And the only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless. If you apologise once, you do it again and again and again. Like taking bricks out of the wall of your fucking house. Do you want to bring the house down, Arthur?" Silence filled the room yet again. Arthur let out a low grunt. "If you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow." Thomas continued. Arthur stood up from his chair. "Bloody 'soft on rebellion'." He repeated. "You did the right thing. Ivy and John. Now we go on the offensive. We take two of the Changretta pubs, and we take them tonight. That's it. Ivy, I'm taking you to your father. I don't want you anywhere near this." Ivy was shocked at Tom's words. He had just seemed so mad that they attacked Angel Changretta and then he was completely fine with it. 'He's more unpredictable than my father.' Ivy told herself.

"Oh! Right. For Christ's sake, why?" Polly shouted at her nephew. "Eh?" Thomas had walked away but stopped in his tracks. "Why?" Polly repeated. Tom marched back over to the group. "Why? Because we fucking can. Because we fucking can and if we can, we do. And if we lift our heel off their necks now, they'll just come at us! Remember these are the bastards that wanted Danny Whizz-Bang dead," The group was silent once more as they waited for Tom to speak again. "You're getting soft, brother. Soft and weak. Save the Bible for Sundays, eh? Finn, I need you to take Ivy to her father's, get to Hockley and then home. It's been a long day." The boy walked out of the door without a word, Ivy and Tommo followed behind. Tom turned around to give one final order. "You take the Wrexham, you take the Five Bells. You get them signed over to us in the morning. You make sure the coppers stay away. Don't use the fucking phones, alright? There's someone listening." The trio climbed into the car that was parked outside the betting den. Finn and Tom were in the front and Ivy was in the back. "Ivy, if you're father's mad that you're late, just tell him you were doing business with me." Tommo told her as they began their journey to Camden Town. "Okay." The girl squeaked out.

The journey was quick and quiet. Thomas definitely felt the tension between the two teens but didn't say anything about it. When they stopped at Alfie's house, Ivy got out silently. She didn't say a word to either Tom or Finn. She wasn't in the mood to see her father but she had to go. The girl timidly raised her hand to knock on the door to her Father's house. She took a quick glance at her small wrist watch to see that it was almost seven o'clock in the evening. She was almost eight hours late. The inside of the house was dark, only the silhouette of her father could be seen. "You're late." He grumbled. "I'm sorry, dad. Tommo and I were finishing up some business and-"

"Business? Business with Tommy fucking Shelby! Get in," He dragged the girl into the house by the collar of her shirt. Alfie pushed his daughter into what she assumed was the living room. There was one lonesome lamp in the corner. Shadows crept up the walls like demons searching for prey. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor. 'What happened here? Had he been drinking?' Ivy asked herself but she was too scared to speak, too scared to move."Do you know how worried I was? You drove me out of my fucking mind! He could have got you killed, he could have..." His words trailed off as he noticed the splatters of blood that rested on his daughter's skirt. "What's this? Did he do this?"

"Dad, I-" Ivy tried to speak but her father was louder. "Fucking gypsy bastard. I told you he couldn't keep you safe. You are staying with me, yeah?. I'm not letting you go back to that Brummie scum ever again." The man got closer to the girl and spat his words in her face. His hands were back on the collar of her shirt and Ivy almost struggled to breath, the fear stealing all of the oxygen out of her lungs. "Dad, I-" She tried to speak again but her father cut her off. Instead of using his words, he used his hand. Alfie slapped Ivy, his hand came sharply across the girl's cheek. She let out a large squeal and dropped to the floor, clutching her face. "What have I fucking told you?" He pulled the girl's hair then threw her back to the ground. Ivy was too scared to look back at her father so she just stared at the floor, small whimpers lept from her mouth. "Get to bed. Go!" He shouted. She jumped onto her feet and sprinted to her room. The girl was tempted to make a break for the door but she knew that this time her father would chase after her and catch her. Ivy ran up the stairs and to her room. She slammed the door and collapsed on her bed. Sobs racked her body. The girl had never wanted to be back in Birmingham so much. She wanted the Shelbys back, wanted their protection, their warmth back. But most of all, she wanted Finn back. Cries and whines shook the girl's body, hot tears streamed down her face. In that moment she realised something.

'I love Finn.'

xx. THE TURNING POINT 

MASTERLIST

[leonawriter]

Fox-Faced

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs/Mononoke

Characters: Dazai, the Medicine Seller. Others mentioned. SKK implied.

Summary: Dazai is taking the time to contemplate how much has changed in so short a time, and his bench gets a visitor.

Notes: Dazai-typical suicide references.

(Part five of the “Not All Kitsune Have Nine Tails” ‘verse. Follows “Home Territory.” Contains important context for the previous stories.)

...

The brisk sea air is as familiar and as comforting as it always had been, even if it is deeper, more rich, and full of scents that Dazai had never known to be able to sort through or notice before. It isn't, at least, overwhelming - the city with its streets and cars and hundreds of people and all of its food and perfumes was harder for him to handle on that first night and the following day than this, which is, comparatively, peaceful and calming.

He can hear shouting in the distance, children playing with their parents and tourists from both further inland and far abroad talking about the sights in adequately amazed tones, because it is Yokohama after all, and no matter what else happened, it was still his city. Their city. The city that he and Chuuya and Atsushi had fought to protect, that he had protected even when he'd been in the mafia, that he was proud of.

He closes his eyes to focus on the sound of the waves and the cries of the seagulls, and he loses track of time. Perhaps he'd even started to doze off in the warmth of a bright, sunny day with clear skies. Normally, by this time Kunikida would be wondering where he was. Now that everyone at the Agency knew he was living with Chuuya, he won't have to worry about that... at least for a while yet.

Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

A breath of air comes out of him in a sigh, and he neither move to create space, nor turns his head to watch, when he hears someone coming close to his bench. Heavy steps, wooden sandals. 

Ah, he thinks instead. You.

There are sounds as if something heavy is being shifted, and then let to drop onto the ground. Then, the rustling of clothes. Only after that, Dazai feels the weight of the bench shift, and a presence actually sat beside him.

If this had been an enemy, they would have had ample time to draw a gun or a knife, and his life would have been over as easily as that. In broad daylight, no less.

But it isn't, and instead of tensing - or relaxing - into the potential threats, he lets his arms drop from behind his head, and opens his eyes to acknowledge the not-quite-stranger.

Dressed in brightly-coloured traditional clothes from head to foot, with a bandana holding back pale hair that didn't - always - quite hide the earrings he wore, and only brought out the likewise pale colour of his face, the bold markings around his eyes, his nose... the man who had introduced himself as only a mere lowly medicine seller looked straight ahead, toward the Yokohama bay.

If the world made any sense, they both would have attracted a lot more attention than the few looks that were aimed their way - Dazai's illusion still held, suggesting to anyone looking their way who didn't know any better to see him as completely human and disregard the ears, the tail, the numerous other small details that marked him out as not human, but the medicine seller next to him simply... was what he was.

In a way, he was entirely on display. There wasn't a single thing about him that wasn't completely true, nothing that was hidden if someone wanted to look and actually see. 

In another sense... Dazai could still remember the other, and looking at him now felt odd, as if everything was still there, but dimmed, somehow.

He wondered, in some distant part of him, if that was how he had seemed to anyone who had seen through him and known.

"So." The world carries on around them, and if Dazai hadn't known that the word had been aimed at him, it could have been aimed at anything. The wind. The sea. Some invisible thing that a form and a reason and a truth, but no unnatural twist to its nature. But he heard it clearly enough, and there is a tilt to the medicine seller's lips. "How is life, Dazai-kun?"

All of his years, and he still doesn't know the answer to that question. He doesn't know how a normal human being should answer something like that-

He stops that train of thought in its tracks. Laughs, and if it comes out sounding odd and a little bit harsh, then it isn't as though anyone else is paying attention to them, is it?

"I woke up to a dog drooling all over me again," he says airily. "There's fur all over the house, and I need to cat-sit again later on."

"And what of Nakajima-dono?" The way that the man says Atsushi's name makes Dazai stop and blink, because he's not used to such a level of respect to his younger protege. "And Nakahara-dono?"

Hearing Chuuya referred to in such a way is only slightly less odd. Executives took respect the way most people expected to be able to breathe, after all. He knew that from personal experience, although it had never been something he had worn with comfort, much the same as the coat he had preferred to shrug off, eventually.

"Atsushi-kun is doing well enough, I think. Sometimes I find myself myself worrying, but..." I think that by this point, he can make up for his mentor's failings. Atsushi isn't so dependant on me that he needs my example, or my praise. He'll do just fine. "Chuuya is - well. We're adjusting."

"Adjustment is only natural. One hardly expects treatment to cure ailments instantly. Just as the body has its own way of healing itself when given a little help, the spirit isn't truly all that much different."

"You think living with Chuuya is like that?" Dazai tilted his head, and made a face. "I'll have to tell him when I get back. He isn't even a dog any more. He's just a medicine that I've been prescribed. One course of Chuuya per day. See how he likes that."

"What it is or it isn't is something only you can decide for yourself, Dazai-kun. Although you do look a lot better than the last time I saw you," the medicine seller added, a certain glint of amusement in his eyes. "And I would almost like to be there when you do tell him that."

No, not just amusement -  spark of mischief. Dazai went back over his own words, and found himself blushing, hard, and looked away.

For someone who seemed to spend most of his time chasing down and exorcising mononoke looking the way he did, the man next to him was far more down to earth and crude at times than he had any right to be. Perhaps this was what most people felt when they were around him too long.

Not that Dazai was going to change, not at all.

"And there I thought you respected Chuuya," he says, letting a little bit of grumble out.

Not that he minded people making fun of Chuuya. That was Chuuya, and this was- well. If any of their sleeping together had gone further than sleeping then it might not feel as self-conscious of the unspoken potential getting brought up by someone who wasn't, well, him.

The laugh he gets in response is almost startling in its honesty, ringing barks of laughter that remind him of kon kon kon, painfully familiar.

"Too much respect is just as unhealthy as too little," the man says only moments later. There's still a smile lingering on his face.

Dazai thinks of Akutagawa, whose deep respect had never grown into anything capable of seeing his mentor as a fallible person and he's glad, knowing that he hadn't been present or involved in anything to do with either of the mononoke. The first one, or him.

He thinks of Atsushi, who he sometimes worried looked to him with those same eyes, but in the next breath the weretiger would berate him for not working, or fuss over him for not eating.

Atsushi, who had once sat in this exact spot, looking out at this exact view.

"When you look out at them... what do you feel?"

For a moment, Dazai almost feels that those must have been his own words, his own question, thoughts he had wondered about and circled around for so long yet had needed to recontextualise along with so much of his life in the past week.

"Humans..." he leaned back, and thought of his conversations with Fyodor, with Shibusawa. The things that he had lived through, remembered, forgotten. "They are truly destructive, and cruel, and thoughtless creatures. I do not think that I will ever truly understand them, either." He sighed. "And yet..." He thought of Chuuya, who despite his circumstances was so very, very human. Of Atsushi, who'd had his true nature as a tiger hidden from him for so long, and Kunikida. Of others that he had met. Odasaku, even Ango. "The same can be said for even the very best of them... searching for their reason to live, like stray dogs. It is at the same time terrifying, yet awe-inspiring, the feats that they can accomplish." He smiled, wryly. Neither bitter nor sweet. "And I live balanced in the middle. But - I think I'll be able to manage."

In the distance, a child screamed as they ran. Conversations carried on.

"Oh...? I see."

A fog horn blared out at sea, coming into port. A couple not far away shared food over by the railing, with guitars on their backs. A teenager passes them by wearing headphones, and Dazai's newly sensitive ears pick up on the beats of the music.

Human, youkai, hanyou... no matter what any of them were, it was still Yokohama. It was still his city.

"It... truly is a beautiful city. More than anything else... that's what I feel." He closed his eyes, and leaned forward into the breeze coming in from the sea. "Does that answer your questions?"

"You're the one who thought that was what I must have been saying. Do you feel better for having said it?"

I hate them - I hate them, and more than that, I want - I don't understand - why wasn't I-  wasn't I... worth...

Those feelings. He remembered them, and they had been his. 

First, destroy everything that comes close, before it can touch me. Then... destroy me, for having done so.

He had felt the culmination of twenty-two years' worth of an inability to understand, which had its source in something that he had not been able to affect.

You have a choice, Dazai-kun. 

If you wish to die, then it is only a simple matter of choosing to stay. The Mononoke will be slain, and so will you. But-

But, if for any reason you should wish to hold on to even one thing...

It is impossible to both slay the monster and to take it with you.

(Kitsune, Chuuya had said, accepting him even as he stared in shock. Come, love, sleep, Chuuya had said, and his heart had wavered. They had called, and he had answered, because there was too much- he had too much- that he couldn't let go of.)

"I suppose... I simply find it hard to find the words to..."

He feels his heart beat. And another. He breathes in the salty air, and it still feels terrifyingly new. 

And yet, the idea of not being here to experience it, the idea of having vanished without a trace somewhat over a week ago - no trace of fur in Chuuya's house, not having the honour of knowing Ranpo's own secret, or of having felt how relaxing it was to have his own fur stroked as he curled up on the sofa whether he was at home or at the office...

He thinks, perhaps, it might have been a beautiful death.

But at the same time... there is only one thing he can think of, the words catching every time he tries to put them on his tongue, for what he feels about still being alive.

"Me?" He hears and feels more than sees the fact that the man next to him is shaking his head. "There is nothing to thank me for. As a mere medicine seller, there was honestly very little I could do. At the end, I was powerless. You were the one who did all of the work. All I did was give you the ability, and the means." He stood, and Dazai could see the slight smile on his face even before he turned. "If anything," he added, bowing at the waist, "I should be the one owing a debt of gratitude to you. From the moment I understood your Katachi..." The medicine seller turned his face up, eyes closed into the upturned slits of a true smile. "Come now. Kits who are blessed with so many who care for them shouldn't need to make those sorts of faces."

...

AN: There's a stealth crossover (crossover-ception? triple crossover?) near the end. I'm just gonna hope someone catches on to what and where the reference is, haha...

If by the end of reading this it isn't clear - in order for Dazai to still be alive in these stories, he had to make the active choice to live and stay alive in the moments before the Medicine Seller's sword cut. This was inspired by several of the endings of the actual Mononoke storylines, although there are elements that appeared in none of those stories that I had to work out for myself.

What this means for Dazai is not that his suicidal ideation is 'magically cured', but that he is less likely to actively seek out death. It also isn't 'knowing his past' that enables him to move on, but understanding *what* he is, and that his feelings of 'not fitting in as a human being' don't just come from nowhere. In short - he was validated.Does anyone know that one poster with the owls on it, about "I just need a stick"? That's what the Medicine Seller's getting at there.

And do I mean to imply that I see the Medicine Seller himself as a kitsune...? Well if you read it with that in mind, just... imagine being him coming to that moment of realisation of just 'what' he's up against. As said and implied in the previous fics, due to the nature and longevity of kitsune, Dazai's still considered a child at twenty-two by other youkai, more than just being seen as "barely out of his teens", so... have that for a bit of adult fear, and why the Medicine Seller is saying what he does here.

All that said, this [was] my first time writing the Medicine Seller, and I'm still nervous over whether I've got his voice down properly or not. (And given how important he is to it, you see why the previous events aren't written yet.)

[fandom-games]

Sunshine and Sandwiches

Author: @song-of-echo Wordcount: 1247 Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairing: romantic LAMP

“How about over there?” Patton suggests, pointing at a small group of trees on top of a hill. “That’s far enough from everyone else that we’ll have our peace.”

“Well, I dunno about peace,” Virgil grumbles. “Not when we’ve got Princey around. But it’d be nice not to be interrupted by screaming kids, yeah.”

“Hey!” Roman lays a hand on his chest, offended. “Excuse you! I am the definition of peace. I am the fearless knight who will bring peace to all the land!”

“Yeah, but we were talking about—nevermind.” Virgil sighs. “What I’m saying is that you never shut up.”

“I just have lots to say!”

“Yeah, but sometimes you—”

“Hey now, no fighting!” Patton chides. “We’re supposed to be relaxing today!”

Virgil sighs. “Fine. But Roman has to behave too.”

They approach the hill in silence, but when they reach the bottom, Roman playfully shoves Patton in the side. “Race you to the top!”

“I—hey, wait up!” Before Patton can say anything else, Roman takes off, sprinting up the hill, closely followed by Virgil, and after a moment of hesitation, Patton’s not far behind.

Logan sighs. “Like children,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head as he trudges up the hill behind them. Of course, they reach the top much earlier than him, so by the time he catches up, they’re in a heated argument over who exactly was there first.

“It was obviously me!” Roman’s saying indignantly. “I should know, I was there!”

“You can say whatever you want, Princey, I touched the tree before you did, and that’s a fact. Patton, you saw that, right?”

“I—well—from what I saw, you were both there at the same time?”

“No! I was first! I—”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be fighting?” Logan interrupts. “And can we set up the picnic blanket, at least? I would like to sit down.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Roman grabs the rolled-up blanket from him and shakes it out, spreading it neatly on the shaded grass. Logan sets the picnic basket on one of the corners and after a quick scuffle between Roman and Patton over who gets to sit in the spot of sunshine filtering through the trees, they all sit themselves down on the blanket, with Roman trying to pretend the sun isn’t in his eyes and Virgil rolling his eyes at the two of them.

Patton’s picked a good spot, Logan reflects as a light wind causes the leaves above to rustle. It’s far enough from other people in the park, but there was no need to drive miles outside the city, thereby preserving time and gas.

“Lo, could you pass the sandwiches?”

Logan looks back down at Virgil, who’s holding out his hand expectantly.

“Sure.” He opens the basket and fishes out the freezer bag containing the sandwiches Patton made for them before they left. Virgil takes them out of the bag and hands them around.

“Ooh, Pat, this is good,” Roman says around a mouthful of sandwich. “How do you manage to make everything so delicious?”

“Magic,” Patton says seriously. “I made a deal with the food gods.”

Virgil snorts and chokes on his own bite of sandwich. “Yeah, yeah, of course you did.”

“How exactly did you make a deal with them?” Logan asks. Obviously, they aren’t real, but he decides to humour Patton for a little. “How did you summon them?”

“Uh, well, you see, you make a circle with cupcakes, and then you light a candle in the middle, and then—”

“What kind of cupcakes?” Roman asks.

“Uh…chocolate! And then the food gods appear, and you…uh… give them food! Not your soul, because they’re nice gods, they don’t want your soul, they just wanna have more food! So you give them the cupcakes, and then you’re good at cooking!”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Really? Do they not give you any cooking classes beforehand?”

“Nope! It’s magic! You know it just like that.”

They continue like that for a while, exchanging meaningless conversation and playful banter as they continue to eat their sandwiches, and when they’ve finished those, they move on to the equally delicious batch of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.

“Okay, nevermind what I said about the sandwiches,” Roman says. “These are even better. Not that the sandwiches weren’t good, but these take the cake.”

“Don’t you mean they take the cookie?”

Roman closes his eyes momentarily. “Patton, I swear—”

“And of course they’re good—they were made with my Patton-ed recipe!”

Roman looks like he does his best to look annoyed, but starts laughing instead. Virgil lets out an exaggerated sigh, but he’s grinning, and Logan can’t stop a small smile from appearing on his face as well. It’s times like these when he appreciates his friends the most—lighthearted moments of laughter and happiness where they can all forget their responsibilities for a little.

“I love you,” Patton sighs when they’ve all calmed down again. It doesn’t sound like a conscious thing; more of a thing he accidentally let slip, or didn’t quite mean to say.

They all go very quiet. Patton freezes, as if he’s just realized what he’s said.

“What was that, Pat?” Roman asks. His voice sounds uncertain, but Logan thinks he detects a hint of hopefulness as well.

“I—I mean—I—uh—” Patton’s face is very red. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Pat.” Roman reaches over to lay his hand on Patton’s knee. “It’s okay. Is that—do you mean… romantically?”

“I—” Patton looks up at Roman, and his eyes are very round and there’s an emotion in them that Logan can’t quite describe. The same goes for what he’s feeling right now—there’s… something there. Something hopeful, hardly daring to believe this.

“Yes,” Patton says eventually. “Yes, I do. I—God, this isn’t how I wanted you all to find out.” He buries his face in his hands. “I’ve been crushing on you—all of you—for months, but I never—I never knew what to say.”

“Oh, Pat,” Roman breathes. “You should’ve said something! I—well. To be honest, I’ve been feeling the same way for a while as well. I was going to do this whole big romantic confession, but to be honest, this is probably better. It’s… more fitting, I guess.”

“So you’re telling me I was unnecessarily worrying this whole time?” Virgil bursts out. “I’ve been stressing over this for weeks! I thought I was the only one! I thought—” He lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. “I thought I was just going to have to toughen up and get over it.”

“Logan?” Patton’s voice is very small, and very hopeful, as he looks over at him. Roman’s and Virgil’s gazes turn to him as well.

“I—I admit feelings have never been my strong suit,” he begins. “But I—I believe what I feel towards you is also romantic attraction, yes.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, Patton bursts out laughing. “We really are all idiots.”

Roman’s laughing as well. “Well, could this technically be called our first date, then?”

“I suppose so, yes.” Logan feels as though there’s a balloon of happiness swelling up inside him. He feels as though a huge weight he never noticed was there has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Well, let’s hope there’s many more to go.” Patton opens his arms, still beaming. “Group hug?”

“Group hug,” Roman agrees, and as they all squash together in an embrace, Logan hopes that this feeling of exciting, new-found happiness is only just the beginning.

As a big fan of Sanders Sides and romantic LAMP, I very throughly enjoyed this! I really think you captured each of the characters along with how it was revealed about the crushes! 94 points! -Jade

[the-caldwell-family]

Prompt Writing

Hey guys, what's up? I'm back and horribly procrastinating writing. The good news is that I procrastinated writing so much to the point of going back to writing. I saw a prompt I liked on instagram and decided I wanted to write it, so here it is. It's silly and stupid and really meant to be more of a writing exercise, but I liked it, so I decided you share it with you guys. Hope you enjoy it!

Based on this prompt:

Story below the break!

He had a problem.

Okay, that was wrong. It wasn't a problem, so much as an issue. Just a tiny, little issue that can be fixed in an instant. There was no reason to panic. No reason at all.

The flame reached the cabinet.

Nevermind, it was time to panic. He scrambled off the floor and rushed for his phone. His fingers shook as he put in his password and searched his contacts. He clicked the first one he saw. The phone rang against his ear before he could have the thought to check who he had called. It was unnecessary, anyways, he would have recognized the slurring voice that answered from anywhere. 

"'ello?"

He lifted the phone from his ear to check the time. 1:32 am. Shit. Drew was going to kill him for waking her up so early. He couldn't back out now, though. The flames were charring the bottom of the cabinet now and he was definitely not getting his security deposit back. He took a deep breath, and braced for impact.

"So, we may have a problem."

"A problem?"

"Yeah."

"Let me guess. You caused it?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that–" He cut off with a yelp as the stove threw out more sparks. "Okay, I absolutely caused it and now I don't know how to fix it. Hello? Hello?" He dropped the phone from his ear, and his contact list stared back at him. He groaned and threw his head back against the wall. Of course she hung up on him. Of course. The fire beside him whooshed dramatically, but he was already getting sick of it. Dialing the number underneath Drew's, he lifted the phone to his ear and waited. 

Just as he heard another, "Josh?" in his ear, the glass besides the stove shattered, the sound echoing in the relatively small kitchen. "What the fuck was that?" the voice demanded. Trust Darryl to have his priorities in order.

"Hey, so you won't believe this, but we have another problem." The words barely left his mouth before he regretted it.

"No, no. WE don't have a problem. You have a problem, and I have an idiot who keeps getting into them." Josh tried to interrupt because he did not get into that many problems, but he was cut off.

"Please, there's a fire and I don't know what to do. They never went over this in high school."

 "What do you mean fire? Hell if I know what to do, pour water on it or something. Try calling Randy, he probably knows what to do." The call ended as the other glass on the counter exploded.

He decided to do as Darryl said and rushed to the sink. The handles were warm, but they still poured water, which was a blessing he'd take. Filling a cup, he threw the water at the fire, which absolutely did not help. Why was the fire getting bigger?

He did not sign up for this. He just wanted to do the right thing, and now he was in the middle of an inferno with no friends that wanted to help. Though Darryl did have one good point: Randy would probably be able to help with this. He designed kitchens, which was close enough. Scrolling to the 'R' section, he pressed on Randy's icon. 

The phone dialed for so long, he thought Randy wouldn't pick up, but a second before he was going to give up, Randy's voice filtered through the phone. "What do you want this time?" He was screaming into the phone, and the sound of deafening party music filtered through. Josh knew exactly where Randy was. He spent more time at Elizabeth's Bar than he did at home, which was amazing because he worked from home.

He didn't even try to soften the blow. "We've got a problem."

"And it's Tuesday, what's your point?" The response was immediate that it took a second for Josh to answer. The second was enough time for another person to join the conversation.

"What's happening over here?" Kevin asked. Of course Kevin was there. Randy rarely went anywhere without Kevin, especially Elizabeth's. He didn't understand what they did there all day. They could hardly pick up strangers after they declared their relationship exclusive. He wondered if they just sat at the bar all day and made friends. He almost laughed at the picture in his head. Randy with his thick leather jacket and cowboy boots chatting about the weather at the bar. Or Kevin stuttering through an explanation of planetary orbits. God, they were perfect for each other. The smell of burning wood brought him out of his semi-hysterical thoughts and back into the conversation, which hasn't progressed at all.

"Joshie's got a problem."

"Of course he does. Give me second, I'm not nearly drunk enough to listen to this yet." Josh heard Kevin order another round and Randy ask to double it. 

"Guys, not helping." The cabinets were definitely not fixable at this point. It was sunken in a way it hadn't been this morning. "Just, what do you know about putting out an oil fire?" His words met silence, the party music louder in the absence of voices. He could admit there was a better way to have said that, but he was in a bit of a hurry. The smoke was starting to choke, and the fire was still not any closer to being put out. "Hello?" he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time today.

"Sorry, I thought I heard you say there was a fire." Josh winced. Kevin did not sound happy, and it was never a good day when Kevin wasn't happy.

"I know, I know, but there really isn't time for your lecture today, professor. Just, any suggestions 'cause my cabinets are not supposed to look like that. I tried throwing water on it, but I think it just got bigger." A sharp laugh came through the speakers, a harsh sound compared to Randy's other laughs. Josh winced again and hoped they'd help soon. He was in for a long lecture come tomorrow, but he had to see through tonight before he even started worrying about that. 

"You idiot, water's not going to help. It's fucking grease. Here, hold on, let me get Elizabeth, she'll probably know what to do. Elizabeth!" Josh had to hold the phone away from his ear from the sheer force of the yell. It somehow managed to overpower the noise of the ever-growing blaze beside him. After what seemed like an hour, but logically couldn't be more than a few minutes, Elizabeth's complaining became clear.

"What do you bums want? I've got a job, unlike you lazy sacks of shit." Her words produced the strongest image in his mind: a hip cocked to the side, hands lazily wiping at a cup that was mostly there for show, bushy red hair barely staying contained behind her head. He wondered if he was hallucinating from all the smoke. 

"Josh has a problem. Again." Which was unfair, he did not have that many problems. Everyone was over-exaggerating a bit too much, and Kevin was just angry about the broken mug from last week. He had no way of knowing that it was his favorite mug. 

"If you meant the leaky pipe under the sink, that's the solution to last week's problem. How he managed to get a chicken bone stuck in his pipe is a mystery I never plan to solve." Josh didn't even know there was a leaky pipe under his sink, but he'd have to take her word for it until the kitchen wasn't on fire.

When Randy didn't laugh at Elizabeth's weak attempt at a joke, Josh knew he was in the dog house. Literally soon, if someone doesn't help him with this fire. "His house is on fire."

Which, no. "Not my house, just my kitchen. My stove. The grease caught on fire, and now the fire won't go down."

Elizabeth let out a string of curses that were definitely not all English. He hadn't even known she spoke another language. The more you know.

The cabinet above the stove began to make creaking noises that sounded suspicious, and he really couldn't waste anymore time. "I swear I'll invite you all over tomorrow to yell at me, but I need a house to invite you, so could someone please tell me what to do."

"You idiot! What the fuck were you cooking at one in the morning? Don't answer that, numb-nuts." Josh wondered if he was that predictable or if Elizabeth had telepathic powers. "Did you turn the stove off?"

Josh scoffed lightly. "Of course I did. I'm not that stupid."

"I wouldn't say that." Josh really needed Kevin to let that mug go. An unhappy Kevin was an unhappy Randy and he couldn't take that kind of stress in his life. Especially not with a kitchen currently on fire.

"How big's the fire?" He needed to remember to send a gift basket to Elizabeth. Or maybe he should just pay his tab at the bar.

"Well my cabinet definitely needs to be replaced, but it hasn't reached the ceiling yet, so I'm calling it a win."

"You idiot," she repeated. "Spray it with a fire extinguisher."

The sudden laughter that boomed through the phone startled him, but he should have expected it. He really needed new friends, not friends who hung up on him or laughed while he faced death. Randy spoke through his chuckling, "You really think he has a fire extinguisher at his house? The only reason he had a stove is 'cause it came with the house. He'd buy takeout everyday if he had the money." He couldn't even deny it; he really did eat takeout for a month straight until he had run out of money and resorted to stealing food from his friends' fridges. More importantly, though, was that they were right about the fire extinguisher.

"Any of you guys got a spare extinguisher I can use?" If possible, the laughter got louder, and Josh could really use some support right now.

"You live like twenty minutes away, what good does that do you? Go to your neighbors, borrow his." God, he could kiss Elizabeth right now. Wait, nevermind, he definitely could not. He would pay his bar tab, though. "God, I'm surrounded by fucking idiots." 

"Okay, stay," he said to his inanimate phone before running out his front door to his neighbor Jeffrey's door. He knocked rapidly, and only realized the time when Jeffrey opened the door with a glare. His deadbolt stayed locked, but it felt more like it was protecting him than it was protecting Jeffrey.

"If you don't give me an acceptable reason for waking me up at one in the morning, I will shoot you right now."

He felt like a naughty student being stared down by the principal. "I, uh, I have a bit of a problem."

"Would shooting you solve the problem? No? Then leave." That was not an empty threat, as he had found out last year when he had needed sugar. The landlord was still angry about the bullet hole in the wall. Jeffrey started to close the door, but Josh stuck his foot against it. A horrible idea in hindsight when his foot got painfully squished between the door and the wall.

"Just, do you have a fire extinguisher?"

Jeffrey's brow furrowed. "A fire extinguisher? What for?"

"Extinguishing a fire." Jeffrey's stare held the promise of a thousand deaths.  All he wanted was to put out the fire in his kitchen, and now he was going to die.

The staring contest lasted another minute, a minute where he really thought he was going to die, but Jeffrey just disappeared into his apartment and came back with a shiny fire extinguisher in his hand. "If you burn down the building, I will make good on my promises." God, he really needed new friends.

Extinguisher in hand, he squared his shoulders and braced for battle. The door to his apartment had stayed open after he'd left, and the light from the fire illuminated the walls. Somehow, the cabinet had stayed stable despite its completely charred bottom, but its creaking noises were not hopeful. Ignoring the screaming from his phone, he aimed the nozzle at the fire and squeezed on the handles, bracing for kick-back. Nothing. The trigger wouldn't move, and the fire kept burning around him. He decided he was going to take a fire safety class after this. Maybe even get a fire extinguisher for the apartment.

The fire grew in size with a loud crack. He grabbed his phone off the counter, and put it up to his ear. "I think it's broken, it won't spray."

Elizabeth, as always, was the voice of reason. "Let me guess, you didn't pull the pin, did you?" He stayed silent, which was answer enough. It wasn't like he'd ever needed a fire extinguisher before. Or at least, he'd never had to be the one to use it. "There's a pin in the top, pull it out, then aim and spray." She was shouting again as the music around her grew louder. It almost felt like she was in another world, his own consisting only of the room around him and the fire blazing in front of him.

He found the pin with a victorious shout and pulled it out. He yelled out a thanks to the phone as he set it down again. He managed to hear Elizabeth's final shout to spray side-to-side, which seemed pretty specific, but he couldn't fault her advice now. The sudden burst of foam almost threw him off his feet, but he planted them wide and set to spraying the fire, which was much harder than he expected. The nozzle was ridiculously hard to control, so it took a minute of trying to get it aimed at the stove. 

The room was filling with shades of white, smoke and foam mixing in a weird combination that reminded him of flying through a cloud. He pressed on the handles as long as he could, until the foam came out uneven. He couldn't see any flames left, though he couldn't see much of anything in his kitchen. 

The counter and stove were invisible beneath the sea of foam. The cabinets, previously a dark brown, looked as white as the stove below it, though he could still see the charred black surface shining through. He panted, standing in the middle of his kitchen at one in the morning, wearing pajamas and staring at the ruined remains of his once clean stove. 

A buzzing from the counter drew his attention away from the cloud he'd created. Elizabeth had ended the call, and was now video calling him. He answered, not taking his eyes off the disaster in front of him. 

"How'd it go?" Randy's voice was light-hearted, but unexplainably gruff. It barely registered in his mind, and he flipped the camera. The foam seemed to have grown in the few seconds it had been there, and the entire countertop was hidden under it. Randy let out a low whistle. "Houston, we have a problem."

He felt a smile grow on his face. Maybe he was hysterical, maybe he breathed in too much smoke and foam, but nothing could stop the laugh that bubbled up his throat. Standing in the middle of a charred, foam-covered kitchen, a stupid, wide grin plastered on his face, he said, "You call it a problem, I call it a solution."