#he jumps slightly for a second then seems calm. the buzzing seemed to unsettle him

[habitual-creatures]

*There's the buzzing of wings before Abaddon appears behind everyone*

~Abaddon🦗

EEP-

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels: Part One

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and... the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader 

Warnings: Some cursing

Word count: 1,667

Authors Note: Here comes part one! I recommend reading the Introduction first if you haven’t 💜

Inspirational Music: Beat the Devil’s Tattoo by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

                                    - Part One -

Sleep did not come easily to you last night. You tossed and turned, worry about this cryptic meeting flooding your dreams and stirring you awake throughout the night. The lack of good sleep left you feeling hazy and distracted. So hazy that you didn’t see the uneven patch of sidewalk beneath your feet. Your hands shot out in front of you to catch yourself, the rough pavement scraping your palms.

You huffed as you stood up and brushed off your sore hands on your pants. Fucking sidewalk. You pass that patch of sidewalk every day and every day, you walk around it. But not today. Today has decided to be different.

Your keys jingled as you unlocked the back door to the shop, yawning with coffee in hand. It was going to be rough, staying here late tonight. After you opened the front curtains and switched on the lights, you reached behind the desk to turn the news on in the background while you readied the shop to open.

“Several Gotham city banks have been robbed within the last week. This string of robberies has left many dead on the scene at each location, all of whom are assumed to be accomplices, as reported by eye witnesses. If that wasn’t strange enough, all of them have been wearing clown masks,” you heard the GCN anchor say from your little tv.

What did he just say? You left the mannequin you were preparing to dress in the window and took long strides back to the desk.

“It is estimated that over sixty million dollars has been stolen thus far. Police have had few leads as their investigation continues but one man appears to be the driving force behind the robberies. Gotham PD has released this photo, captured by security cameras at Gotham National Bank just yesterday,” the anchor continued before an image flashed on the screen.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of a man in ghostly white makeup with black around his eyes, a blood red smile over his lips and two jagged scars curling up from both corners of his mouth, staring straight at the camera.

“Nothing else is known about this man other than that he goes by the alias, ‘the Joker’, leaving a Joker playing card behind at many of the crime scenes. If you have any information on the man pictured, please contact the anonymous tip line listed at the bottom of your screen.”

You switched the tv off, a shiver running down your spine. That image was burned into your eyes, as clear as it was on the screen moments ago. You blinked a few times but it was still there, staring at you. The Joker. Those eyes just gazed straight through the screen and locked with yours. It was unsettling but you couldn’t help but feel something else. Overwhelming curiosity. Who was this guy? Why did he paint his face? Where did he even come from? This was the first you’d heard of him. Not to mention those scars. Flesh viciously sliced apart, torn clean through, leaving behind a macabre permanent smile. A strange feeling tugged at your stomach as you thought about the pain he must have felt. They were so… terrifying.

The sound of the door opening jolted you out of your trance as you jumped and whipped around to face the door.

“Oh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where do you want me to leave these?”

A delivery guy stood just inside the doorway with a handcart stacked with boxes. You shook your head and answered with an embarrassed smile, “It’s ok, I guess I’m a little jumpy today. You can leave them anywhere back there, thanks.”

You pointed toward the back room and he nodded on his way to drop them off. Shit, maybe you shouldn’t drink that coffee.

The afternoon crawled by at a frustratingly sluggish pace. The ticking of time made you impatient for the day to be done but simultaneously anxious about the very same idea. A particularly needy woman with perfume that burned your nose picked up an altered dress and a man looking to get his pants hemmed to fit his unfortunately short stature took up some of your time but it was still an hour before closing time. Your stomach fluttered for a second. Tonight it wasn’t really closing time. You decided to preoccupy yourself with a book you’d meaning to read, sitting down and leaning back in your chair, getting comfortable at the desk. Maybe you’d run out to grab a bite to eat soon.

Your eyelids flew open as you suddenly awoke with a start. The shop was dark. You scrambled from your chair to find the clock, grabbing it from the counter and turning it around. 9:40 pm.

Your heart started pounding in your chest, the meeting with your new mystery client was dangerously close. You cursed under your breath and rushed to close the front curtains, hoping to avoid anyone else trying to come in. It was a miracle you weren’t robbed in the first place.

Reality rushed over you and your hands started to shake with unease. Why were you so nervous? Well, this has never happened to you before. Men bringing you that much money ahead of time, in cash no less. Asking, no, telling you to stay open late for them. It was just weird. Weird in a way that made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And now it was here.

A few deep breaths did something to calm your nerves a bit, at least until the hands on the clock reached 9:58. 

Headlights illuminated the maroon velvet curtains over the windows, sending your heart rate soaring once again. He’s here.

Suddenly, an urge to hide made your legs twitch as you stood in front of the desk but you resisted it, fighting to keep yourself from running to the back room. Your heart continued to pound and was joined by a shudder down your spine as you caught sight of two silhouettes, figures cast in shadow over the curtains that were moving toward the door.

You held your breath when the door opened. It was the bald man from yesterday. He made eye contact with you and blinked. You tensed up, waiting for him to say something, but instead he let go of the door to disappear back outside.

What?

Before you could react, the door opened again and a different man stepped into the shop.

You halted in place, staring at him. His hair was stringy and tinted green. His face. His face was covered with a layer of white paint, black smeared around his eyes, that devilish red smile that had been floating around in the back of your mind all day. It was him.

You couldn’t move. You willed your body to do something, anything other than stare at the man with the Glasgow smile in front of you. But that’s all you could do. Blood rushed in your ears as you stood there, trapped in your own body, for what felt like far too long.

He took a few steps toward you, thawing your muscles instantly for you to back up and bump into the desk, your eyes still on him.

“What’s the matter, hm? You look nervous. Is it the scars?” he spoke as he gestured toward his face.

His voice was peculiar. Somewhat high and nasally but deep and gravelly at the same time.

Your mouth opened to speak before you had any words in mind to say. “Uh, um. N-no. I, um, I just recognized you from the, the news,” you sputtered, trying not to visibly tremble.

His eyebrows shot up and he grinned as he replied, “Ahhh, little old me? Well I’m, uh, flatter-ed.”

The only thing you could do was nod as you continued to gaze wide-eyed at him, your hands gripping the edge of the desk behind you like a vice. The way he pronounced words was hypnotizing. They were spoken so deliberately, so carefully chosen.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue with this, uh, ban-ter of ours, I believe you can make me a suit, yes?” he continued.

You suddenly stiffened to attention after his statement registered in your mind, your already hammering heart flipping uncomfortably in your chest.

“Oh, um, yes. Y-yes I can,” you managed to stutter.

He clapped his hands together, making you jump slightly. “Fan-tastic! Shall we?” he said enthusiastically, extending his arm out toward the mirrored area of the shop.

He waited a moment for you to move, only to watch you continue to stare like an antelope caught in a  lion’s gaze before flicking his tongue out over his scarred lip and sauntering over on his own.

Deep breaths. You took deep breaths, so quickly that they were making you nauseous. You had to try to relax. What if you made him angry? He’s killed people. What would he do if you messed up? It’s too late to back out. You swallowed hard against the lump growing in your throat. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this…

He started thumbing through the books of fabric swatches on the nearby table, scrutinizing each with his eyes and occasionally raising an eyebrow as you slowly approached with pins and needles buzzing in your hands. He suddenly flicked one of the books shut and raised his eyes to meet yours once again, making you stop in your tracks and hold back a gasp.

“Now, what do I call you, doll?” he asked, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

Your words tumbled out, responding all on their own, “Y/N.”

His gaze had captured you again and this time it was drawing you in. The room around you seemed to dissolve and all you could focus on were his spellbinding eyes.

“Y/N, call me Joker,” he purred.

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

@amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @paev 💜

[writingsbychlo]

more ways than one (06)

word count; 5207

summary; everyone finds out your secret, and shit kinda hits the fan.

notes; it’s pretty intense, but I promise that you’ll love it.

warnings; mentions of a panic attack, injury description, blood and gore.

It was a boring day when everything fell apart, and despite your shock and worry, you had to know it was coming soon.

A new problem always arose in your life, something always came up to shatter the peace. Just as the ripples on the surface of the pond began to smooth out, something else threw a pebble at the water, and during this quaint little time of peace, a new threat had been winding up with their aim set perfectly. 

You were in the supermarket, filling a basket with the various snacks you’d come to know that V liked over the past few weeks, when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored the first one, and the second one, but soon the text alerts were flipping to that of an incoming call, and it was with a deep sigh that you paused in your perusing of different cereal bars and moved your attention to your phone, fishing it from your pocket. 

Lydia’s name flashed across the screen, and you rolled your eyes fondly, dragging your thumb over the green button and lifting it to your ear. “Hey, Lyds! You know, now actually isn’t such a great time f-”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that all summer, you know.” You gaped at her snippy comment, pouting to yourself as guilt filled you, and yet you didn’t even have a chance to respond before she was barrelling on. “Would that have anything to do with the Stiles lookalike I’m currently staring at?”

Your stomach flipped, feeling as though it had suddenly filled with cement, and your palms went clammy, your mouth dry as you stuttered out your response; “What?”

“Yeah, there’s an impersonator for your best friend here at the loft, insisting to call you, and so here we are. Care to explain?” Her tone was short and aggressive, and you could tell she was mad at you, though you already knew she would be, it was inevitable, and yet you had thought you’d have more time to prepare yourself for this moment. 

You hadn't been planning to keep it a secret forever, you had wanted to tell them, and yet you had wanted to do it on your own terms, when the secret man you were harbouring in your friend’s home had been ready, and now you were panicking. You could barely catch your breath, your chest feeling like it was pushing in on itself, and you were becoming unsettling familiar with panic attacks. 

“(Y/N?) You there?” Her tone was softer, and she could hear you panting, struggling for breath once again, but you were already fishing for your car keys in your bag, hanging up the phone and shoving it lazily back into your purse. Your cart had been abandoned in the aisle, your hands shaking as you tried to unlock the car, and you hopped up into the seat, strapping yourself in and taking a deep breath.

Your eyes closed as you tried to calm yourself, jumping once again when your phone buzzed, Stiles’ face flashing up on your screen when you pulled it out to look at it. You considered just ignoring it, you considered letting it go to voicemail, but it kept on going, clearly, he wasn’t giving up and so you reached out for the device and took it. 

“Stiles.” Your voice was croaky, as you tried to hold back tears, but the moment your eyes closed you felt one drip along your cheek. He cooed at you, mumbling into the phone and you heard him shuffle away from everyone else, the shouting in the room fading away. 

“Oh, honey, I’m not mad.” Transferring the phone to the car speakers, you started up the vehicle, nervously pulling out of your parking space and heading for the building you were suddenly dreading approaching, having been so excited for this trip only ten minutes prior. “You hung up on Lydia, and you’ve been acting weird all summer. We were just worried, but now you’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

“I’m okay, Stiles. Don’t hurt him, alright? I’ll be there soon.” Your words were stuttered out, and he sighed into the phone, not out of anger or frustration, but simply from stress. 

“I won’t, (Y/N), but I’d be quick. It’s not me you have to worry about.” He paused, muffled talk on the end of the phone as he covered the speaker, and you slammed your hand into the steering wheel, pressing your foot down even harder on the pedal as you picked up the speed. “Look, I wasn’t the one who found him. You need to get here soon.”

The line went dead, and you tried to steady your racing heart, and stave off the oncoming panic attack. The drive felt like it had dragged on for hours, your eyes constantly flicking down to the clock, and only seven minutes had passed since you had left the store. You didn’t even bother locking the car, swiping the keys and your bag from the seat and racing your way upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. 

Your muscles ached and burned, screaming out in protest as you ran three entire floors uphill in what felt like it had only been thirty seconds flat. You were gasping for breath upon reaching the loft, the shouting inside having been echoing clearly through the building from the open door to the main living area, hitting your ears from the very second you’d stepped inside. Anger flooded through you as you took in the sight inside, and you took a deep breath to contain yourself. 

Your friends were all gathered around, varying expressions of concern to anger to confusion across their faces, and Stiles was the first to notice you. His arms were crossed around his middle, hunched over and chewing on the nail of his thumb when his eyes met yours, and he seemed to light up a little bit, Scott clapping a hand on his shoulder as he took you in, and your flannel-wearing friend skidded across the floor to you.

You glanced over his shoulder, brows furrowing at the group huddled around where you assumed your not-so-hidden friend to be, growling and yelling filling your ears, and while Stiles tried to grab you, you forced your way through.

Sitting on the floor, back to the wall was a very scared looking V, his eyes wide and frantic, claiming only a little when he saw you. His lip was busted, a red mark that was bleeding from a slight graze was hidden under his hairline, and you whipped around form him to face down your friends. Derek stared at you, teeth bared, wolf-side on full display as claws were bared when he pointed at you and you glared right back at him, holding your ground. 

Cora was by his side, and you shot her a quick glare, your jaw tense and shoulders squared as you stepped towards the two, your other friends all still talking, questions pouring from them, threats and wondering and your head was practically pounding from the noise and rowdy chaos already, and so you could only imagine the way the man cowering on the floor must feel. 

“Back the fuck up.” You were met with a growl from both Cora and Derek, and you raised your brows challengingly. “Are you going to maul me like a rabid fucking dog? If not, I said back off.”

Derek sighed, his claws pulling back, and he retreated back into himself, returning to his normal form, all except for his eyes which continued to glow at you, and Cora crossed her arms, sneering at you as she turned her back to you both, stalking across the room and upstairs as she mumbled insults and cruel words at you. Silence settled over the room, and you ignored them all, turning away and dropping to your knees, letting out a heavy sigh as you took in the worried face of the man before you. 

“Are you okay?” He shot you a look, to ask if you were really serious about that question, but you shuffled forward on your knees toward him, and he leaned up to face you better. Your hands cupped his cheeks, smoothing his hair back to look at the injury on his head, and you glared over your shoulder at the male wolf you assumed to have inflicted such an injury, and he at least had the dignity to look a little sheepish. 

His hands came up, covering yours gently and bringing them down from his face, your attention snapping back to him as he gave you a small smile, whispering his response as he let your connected hands fall to his lap. “I’m okay.”

“C’mon, let’s get you up.” You rocked back onto your feet, pulling him up to stand with you, and he was once again towering over you. He was practically pressed to your back once you turned back to your friends, and they all practically took a collective intake of breath as they prepared to fire off their questions at you once again. Holding your hand up, you looked at them all, feeling a pair of slightly cooler to the touch fingers slip in between yours, and you looked down at your hand, not the only one to do so, but you squeezed back reassuringly. “One question at a time, or we’re leaving.”

As if to make a point, Scott closed the loft door, and you rolled your eyes in exasperation, but returned your attention to the group. Derek was the first to speak up, as you’d have expected, and you braced yourself for anything he may say as he stepped forward. 

“How long has he been here?”

You grinned, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, having expected more to have been yelled or cursed at, and you shrugged, playing with his fingers between your own absentmindedly. “Since the beginning of the summer, not long after you left.”

“And why exactly is he here?” Allison piped up, and you moved to looking at her, feeling the man beside you shuffle a little closer, switching between his feet nervously. 

“I had to keep him somewhere, he was hurt when I found him.” 

The questions kept going, breaking up your explanation as they all took turns firing away in wonder until the story was almost entirely out int he open, but the more you got off of your chest was the more you panicked, because Stiles had yet to say anything, his eyes fixed on the floors as he took it all in. 

You could understand why; it was a lot. 

Everybody seemed to be reeling from your words. Knowing that you’d found this lookalike, having fought with him so much at first as you all but nursed him back to health, and he soothed your panic attacks. You’d spent almost your entire summer locked away here in the loft, teaching him how to cook and care for himself, how to use technology and teach him about everything he needed to know.

Stiles was the final question, his eyes meeting yours as he finally looked up at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Why does he look like me?”

Your jaw snapped shut, but your eyes stayed locked with his, and you worried about the words in your head while trying to think about what to say. 

“That one is a little harder to explain.”

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

The atmosphere around you all seemed to have cooled down, and you were sitting on the couch, the others sprawled out around you as you sat with your legs slung across your best friend’s lap, his hands smoothing up and down your calf, as he processed the story you had just told him. V was on the floor at the other side of the coffee table, watching on carefully and in silence as other’s milled about the loft. Kira and Scott were mumbling to one another about it all from the armchair, Malia was eating leftovers from the fridge and Lydia was bobbing a tea bag in her mug, blowing the steam off delicately as she clutched it in her hands.

The atmosphere was tense, you could tell there was still a simmering rage aimed at you for not telling them about what had happened, and yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to care because it was finally all out in the open, and he gave you a small smile as he finally looked up at you. 

“Guardian angel, huh?”

You grinned, nodding your head as Stiles sent you a dopey smile, and you reached a hand out to ruffle his hair. “Can you believe it?”

“Well, y’know, werewolves exist, I was possessed by a demon, Jackson turns into a cannibalistic iguana cosplayer, so why not?” He joked, and you shook your head, lolling back into the couch and closing your eyes for a split second, the tension leaving your body as you relaxed. Despite the anger that still resided towards your deceit, you no longer felt like you had to deal with the growing stress of keeping a secret from the people you cared about the most. “I do have a question, though.”

“Hmm?” 

“What exactly is going on between the two of you?” He pointed his finger between you and the man who looked exactly like him, who was currently occupied by a casual interrogation disguised as a chat with Allison, and you turned to look at Stiles. He only fixed you with a knowing look, his eyebrows raised and lips pursed, sealing away the cheeky smirk on his face. “It’s clearly something. But, it doesn’t change anything between the two of us, right?”

“God, no, never. I’ve seen you throw up all over yourself after eating a whole bag of curly fries and drinking seven of your dad’s beers before dancing on a table.”

“Hey, now, that was a good day.” He tucked you close to him, pulling you under is arm until your face was pressed into his side, and you scowled, your face screwing up as you tried to push away from him. 

“You smell! Get off me, when did you last wash your shirt? Or your pits for that matter?” 

He grinned, laughing it off, before beginning to talk your ear off about something you weren’t paying attention to, instead choosing to look to back to the other man, his eyes flicking to yours as Allison continued to barricade him with questions and ideas, your lips forming a smile, one eye dropping in a lazy wink, and he returned the sentiment by letting his lips twist up at the sides to smile back. 

For a good two or three hours, you felt the worries of the world slip away. The benefactor, the supernatural, everything slipped form your mind. The rest of the group had a lot of questions for V, and so as some kind of peace offering, Derek ordered in a fair amount of pizza for the group, and you found yourself leaning against his side, your legs crossed, his spread out before him and a box of pizza sitting between them, half-eaten as you shared the large wheel. 

It almost felt like this could become your new normal, like everything could go back to the way it once was, before Scott got bitten and before your life was flipped upside down, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t cursing that fateful night that had made your world crazy. 

That little bit of joyful freedom came crashing down around your feet once again, as though fate really had it out for you on this particular day, because with everyone else in the group gathered around, there was no reason that the wolves of the group suddenly perked up, silence falling over everyone as heads lifted, looking into the air and sniffling out. 

Even Cora had made an appearance, the second after she came downstairs to glare at you and swipe up a box of pizza, before disappearing into her room again. Now, she was standing at the top of the spiral staircase, looking down with her eyes squinted as she stared at a certain spot on the wall, and the tension was palpable and thick.

Only seconds later, the easy mood was completely and utterly shattered, the door being pulled backwards with so much force that it bounced off of its sliders and almost tore from the wall. A team stood in the doorway, aggressive stances and armed with weapons, your jaw dropped. The noise around you felt like a sudden and muffled background filler, everything seeming to move too fast while also going far too slowly, and it wasn’t until you felt hands on your upper arms, forcefully pulling you to your feet with a bruising grip as you were tugged away towards the wall. 

Allison had kitchen knives in her hands, claws and fangs were flying around as a solid wall of supernatural and hunter force formed before you, and the acrylics of Lydia’s nails were digging into your skin as she dragged you backwards. Stiles was already pressed to the wall, eyes wide as he looked around and tried to find a solution, and V was staring right at you, his arms held out as he tried to lure you into action, break in through your shock or do something, and you stumbled along, falling into his arms. 

They wrapped tightly around you, a hand weaving into your hair as he held you tight, holding your face into his shoulder as the other wrapped around your waist. He kept you tightly to him, shushing your whimpers each time you heard a painful grunt or shout of agony. He mumbled in your ear, constantly reassuring you of what was happening, until you felt like you’d choked back enough panic to look up at the scene yourself. 

It was a battlefield, chipped wood from broken furniture and splattered blood across the walls and floor, Isaac was fighting, pinning someone to the floor as another had a coil wire wrapped around his neck, red hot and glowing as it sliced into his skin and he did the best he could to fight them both. 

Allison and Kira were back to back but overwhelmed, both Scott and Derek trying to deal with the growing threat of a crown around them before them as Malia moved to tackle the man trying to decapitate your scarf-wearing friend, a small sigh of relief leaving you. You were outnumbered but not outgunned, you knew your friends could handle it but that didn’t mean without sacrifice or injury, and you feared for the way they were coping. 

You knew you had to do something to help, you just didn’t know what.

Claws were being thrown, guns fired off, and a startled scream tore from your lips as a drinking glass shattered when a bullet flew right through it, and you’d had enough of cowering in the corner. Catching sight of a clawed-up metal pipe hanging from the wall, and you pushed the arms that were wrapped around you down, ignoring the shouts of Lydia and V, Stiles grasping your arm and following after you, skimming along the walls as you made your way toward it. 

Stopping down with force, the metal snapped away from the rest with a groan, clattering across the floor, and you scooped it up, thankful that the metal was cold as you held it securely in your hands. Wrapping your fingers around it, you stepped forwards, closing in on the man who currently had what was almost a spear in his hands as he jabbed at Scott’s chest, your friend doing the best he could to avoid it. 

You weren’t that strong, you didn’t have a lot of muscle to work with or any experience in fighting but with everything you could muster within yourself you swung forward, the impact reverberating along the pipe and shaking all the way to your hands as the man collapsed in a heap, unconscious on the floor as you shook. He had a gash across his skull, your hands shaking as your eyes went wide and Scott looked at you, watching as unshed tears formed and he shook his head, Stiles placing a hand on your back to comfort you. 

Leaning down, your tanned friend felt for a pulse, and you took a raspy and gasping breath. “I didn’t want to kill him! I was just trying to help, oh m-”

“Shh, no, he’s alive! You just have a really good hit!” Scott soothed, the fight coming to a close as the numbers began to even out, and you let out a deep sigh of relief, clutching as your chest as the weight that lifted off of your shoulders made you think you may actually float away into the sky. You placed a hand onto the alpha’s shoulder, taking deep and steadying breaths, and Stiles clapped a hand on your shoulder. 

“We should have a Beacon Hills baseball team, you can be our star batter!”

Scott laughed at Stiles’ comment, glancing over your shoulder, before the joyful expression on his face dropped and he let out a dull shout as he ducked you out of the way, a final threat as he whipped your body around, stumbling over his feet and holding you close as the two of you fell out of harm’s way and onto the floor.

Another boy who had come with the attacking group had lunged at you both, and you screamed as Stiles was left defenceless, being closed in on by the man with the knife. In a blur of movement, Stiles was pulled out of the way, tackled to the ground as the man on the offensive made to slash at him, and Malia was quick to take the man by the back of the head, walking him in fast motions and slamming his head into the brick wall, his body crumpling in unconsciousness to the floor. 

The fight didn’t last much longer, and you crawled your way toward Stiles, his now human guardian angel laying beside him and clutching at his arm, blood smeared across his fingers as he grunted, and Stiles was staring at him with something between shock and awe. 

“Dude, you just saved my life.”

V let out a deep chuckle, slightly strained and suffering through his pain as he sat up, and you dropped down to your knees, eyes meeting Stiles’ and he sent you a reassuring nod before you were peeling the other boy’s fingers away from his arm, getting a look at the cut on his upper arm. 

His shirt was torn, sliced right through to his skin and while it wasn’t a deep cut, tears still sprung back to your eyes, something between pure joy that they were both alive, and fear for his well-being as he looked down at the injury he had gained. You pushed the jacket from his arms, and he lifted the sleeve of his shirt out of the way, and Lydia dropped down beside you with the first aid kit form the kitchen. 

“No! No, it’s empty! Get the stuff from the second drawer on the kitchen island!” Stiles was moving before she was, and she followed after him, the pair of them bringing enough supplies through for everyone, and your hands were shaking as you tried to open a packet of gauze. Warm hands closed over yours, slight bloodstains smearing across your skin from his. 

“It’s just a scratch.” He whispered, and you nodded, licking over your lips and taking a deep breath, unwrapping the bandaging and laying it across your lap as you picked up a disinfectant wipe or clean the nick on his skin with. 

“Just a scratch? You saved my life!” Stiles was practically exploding with glee and excitement and thankfulness, and you let out a weak chuckle, shaking your head fondly at your best friend, and he placed a friendly kiss to the top of your head before shoving your shoulder in retaliation for you laughing at him.

“Well, what are guardian angels for?” You froze at the words, your jaw gaping as you looked up at the boy you were patching up, and your best friend had much the same reaction, before he was laughing loudly and clapping him on the uninjured shoulder. Seconds later, Stiles was wandering away to help deal with the unconscious and slightly maimed team who had attacked them, Lydia following to start to patch them all up, and you kneeled beside him, admiration twinkling in your eyes as you looked at him. 

“I can’t believe you just made that joke.” You mumbled, and he let a small laugh loose for just you to hear, your fingers wrapping up and sealing the bandage carefully, before you were helping him to his feet. He raised a hand, running his fingers over your cheek delicately, and you tipped your head into his touch. “You saved my friend’s life.”

He shrugged as though it was no big thing, before lowering his hand to sit on your waist, and you gripped the shirt over his waist on your hands, holding him close to you. “It’s what I should have been doing all along. I failed him so many other times, this doesn’t really make up for anything.” You tipped your head to the side, glancing over his shoulder and he turned to look, Stiles standing behind him, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Tell that to him. He seems pretty made up to be alive.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out at you as his doppelgänger stared at him with disbelief, unsure of quite what to say, and he looked between you and Stiles as he searched for words. “Stiles, I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For failing you?” You slipped your hand into V’s, his fingers immediately flexing around your own for support and you ran the pad of your thumb over his knuckles. “I should have looked after you, and done a better job. I wasn’t good, you deserved a better guardian than I am, and I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

“You.. what?” You chuckled, pressing your face into the back of his shoulder and Stiles was a painted picture of amusement, holding a hand out to the man that looked identical to him.

“I forgive you. You saved my life, and you look after my best friend. I forgive you.” Slipping his hand free from yours, his hand met Stiles’, and they shook hands firmly, a peace formed between the two of them, and the silence only lasted a second before V was jolting suddenly. 

With a second jerky movement, he reached up and over his own shoulder clawing at his back as he fell to his knees, and you watched as the muscles in his back shifted, his knees cracking as the hit the floor. Pulling his shirt up over his head until it was tight around his biceps, he fell forwards, a pained scream leaving his lips as you stepped up beside him. Your hand had barely pressed to his heated skin before he was twisting awkwardly, a sickening crunch sounding out and he dropped down, elbows buckling as bone pushed out of the scars on his back, and you held back the urge to vomit as he squirmed in agonising pain, Stiles spinning on his heel, light-headed at the scene before him. 

You choked back the sound you wanted to make, squeezing your eyes shut before taking a knee before him, holding his cheeks and lifting his face to look at you. His eyes were wet with tears, cheeks flushed and you offered him a shaky smile in reassurance. 

“What’s happening to me?”

“I really can’t tell you. I don’t know what’s happening, but I got you, okay?” His eyes squeezed shut, muscle and skin crawling along the bone structures, and you felt your stomach physically twist and churn at the sight. He wheezed, whining out under his breath as you held him carefully. “I got you, okay? I’m here.”

“You’re here.”

“Yeah, honey.” He winced, and you watched the gruesome sight as the freshly woven skin pricked and parted, before a gasp was leaving you, pale stems bursting through before parting in white feathers, and you let out a breathy laugh. Your eyes were wide, jaw slack as you watched beautiful and large, pure white wings appear before your eyes. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” You were awestruck, watching as they finally grew to completion, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, vice hoarse from all his screaming and groaning, and he collapsed down, pulling back onto his knees just enough to slump over onto you.

“I think you just got your wings back.”

“What?” The appendages fluttered in his shock, and you felt this arms snake around your waist in exhaustion, your own arms looping around him, and you ran the edges of your fingers over the soft feathers tentatively, a happy sigh leaving him as you ran your touch over the soft wings. “That feels nice.”

“Your wings feel nice. They’re so soft.”

He chuckled, before it faded out, and he pulled back enough to look at you. The others were filtering into the room, taking in the sight before them, but neither of you paid them any attention, caught up in a bubble together as you stared at one another. 

They all discussed their opinions, Stiles offering the explanation that forgiveness was what he needed, and your heart was beating out of your chest as he flexed and extended the wings around himself, stretching them out and grunting happily, like a muscle being stretched after a long period of laying down, as though a cramp was being relieved, and he looked between them himself, lifting his fingers to brush over the edge of the feathers he could reach, fluttering them a little bit and chuckling happily under his breath.

“Can you tell me how many black feathers there are?”

You stood up, and he did the same, watching as you rounded his back to look, and he gave you a second, before turning on you and taking in your widely smiling face. “There isn’t any?”

“No black feathers?”

“All pure as snow!” You beamed, and he took your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your forehead. The kiss lingered, long and sweet and your eyes closed as you leaned into it. Raising your head, you bumped the tip of your nose against his, and a throat being cleared loudly caught your attention, your cheeks heating up as you snapped away from one another.

Derek looked at you both, slightly beaten up but rapidly healing, and he offered an apologetic look, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his hands together as everyone turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it's no time to relax just yet. That was just the beginning, our threat isn’t over yet, and we need to be ready.”

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back- Chapter 25: Exhausting (Trials 34-39)

Word count: 1314

Chapter warnings: Mild language

-----

       "Sehun, you have to listen to me!"

       "Haha, okay! But for real, how did you-" Sehun was laughing, acting as nonchalant as ever before Tao cut him off.

       "We don't have time for that!" Tao practically shook the younger man. "Y/N is in danger, I had to reverse time, she dies on the train tracks!"

       "I... for real?"

       "Why would I be kidding?"

       "Couldn't you just-"

       "I'll explain after, go!" Sehun, now a little bit unsettled, ran to the tracks, saying something to Y/N. He watched as she sat up, Sehun lending her a hand to pull her up. Tao sighed with relief as she stepped off, looking over to him in confusion. After Kris's trial, he had been given the same task with Kai. Then, he was forced to do the same with Suho, then Kyungsoo, and now Sehun. Nothing as bad as Kris's trial repeated, and Kyungsoo was the easiest to convince. He silently wondered to himself if he would have to do this with all the members.

       The reversal of time was getting more and more tiring for him. He had never had to do it so many times in a row, or with such dire consequences. Not only that, but watching the train rocket towards Y/N over and over was doing something to his mind. He was getting more and more nervous with every buzz of the phone, praying for what the next challenge may be.

       Pausing time again, he looked at the phone, glancing up only to reassure himself that Y/N was no longer in the path of the train. Reading it, he was surprised. This trial was different.

       Trial 38: Stop the train.

       Limited power: Y/N

       Drop-out Fee: Y/N

       Stop a train? How was he supposed to do that? Maybe there was a way he could obstruct the tracks? No, trains were heavy, not to mention fast. It would bust through anything he was strong enough to put on. Maybe he could block it with animals or people so the conductor would have to stop? Would he do it in time, though? Not to mention that was a hefty sacrifice of life, and he didn't know if the game would let him reverse time after this... The easiest way would be to use the emergency brake, of course, but... oh.

       Looking up, Tao searched the side of the semi-far train for any sign of a company marker. While most of the cars were faded, the engine did have some semblance of branding on it. Walking towards it, he got a closer look. Unfreezing time again, letting his friends handle their own situation, he typed the name into the GPS, sighing in some sick form of relief as a nearby train yard came up.

       Pausing time again, he looked for the train's serial number or car number. While he couldn't find one, he was able to remember some obscene graffiti on the side. Now would be the hard part. He wasn't used to reversing time so much, sure, but now it was going to be even harder. Concentrating, the train began to move backwards, out in the distance. He didn't know how much room he needed to stop it. Half a mile? One? Two?

       As it disappeared from view, he realized that he needed some means of getting on the train. Maybe he should have gotten on it. He could let time go and re-reverse it, but he was growing weaker by the second. Finally, he laid eyes on Kris's car.

       "Perfect." He muttered, running over to it, the keys sitting in the cupholder. Picking them up and shoving them in the ignition, he pulled out next to the train tracks, driving over the crunchy gravel at the slant of the railroad's hill. Coming up on the train, he hastily there it in park, climbing up onto the engine car, panting heavily as he heaved open the door.

       Entering the conductor's area, he shut the door behind him, looking around for the emergency brake. Breathing in, he unfroze time, pulling it almost immediately afterwards. His sudden presence scared the conductor shitless, but he didn't have time to explain.

       "Come on, come on..." He muttered to himself, watching out the front window as the trees rushed by. The screeching of the wheels against the tracks were like nails on a chalkboard, and his heart dropped as he watched them come up on the intersection. The vehicle slowed, and slowed, and... Just as the tip of the train was coming up on the group, on Y/N's fragile body lining the tracks- it settled back, steam releasing.

       "Thank God." He sighed, collapsing on the ground.

       "Hey! Man, what are you doing?!" The conductor was shouting above him. He groaned, vision swimming. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to keep going. The shouting and the buzzing in his pocket were reminding him of what he had to do, though. Ignoring the man, he paused time.

       Unlike normal, the conductor didn't freeze. He walked backwards to where he had been standing, then back forwards to where he was yelling at Tao. Back, forwards- then he began glitching into those positions, before finally freezing. Tao watched with abject horror. What was wrong with his abilities? He shook his head. He was losing control, he was running out of fortitude. Pulling out his phone, he read the next trial.

       Trial 39: Convince Y/N to drop out.

       Limited power: Y/N

       Drop-out Fee: Y/N

       Sighing, he looked out to the group. Y/N was frozen just above the metallic road, leaning slightly as if she was about to sit up. The others were running towards her, Kai the closest, followed by Suho. Maybe if he unpaused, he could use the fear factor to get her to drop out. He really didn't want to reverse time again, he...

       Stepping out of the engine's car and jumping down, knees aching, he walked back over, unfreezing time. As he did so, he watched the group break out into havoc, the boys crowding Y/N asking if she was okay. She was stuttering and letting them know that she was fine, when Tao grabbed her by the arm. The fatigue in his eyes was well masked by his loud rambling.

       "Y/N, you can't do this, please-" he said, shaking her. "Please, you have to drop out, I couldn't live with myself if-"

       "Tao, it's fine," she put a hand over his, trying to calm him down. "If something happens you can just reverse time."

       "And then you'll have to do it again, and again, and again, Y/N I can't do it anymore, I can't-"

       "Okay, stop crying-" She said, brows furrowing in worry. Crying... was he crying? He hadn't even realized it, but when he lifted his hand to his face, sure enough, it was coated in silky, salted water. "It's fine, we'll be fine-" She was saying. He could use this to his advantage.

       "Please," he started sniffling overdramatically. It wasn't too hard, he was emotional anyway. Kris was practically rolling his eyes at the spectacle. "Please drop out. We can win for you, we can..."

       "I can't leave you all to do this by yourselves-"

       "Please! We can all drop out then, it'll be fine! I'm not sure what the fees mean, but..." Sighing, she looked to the guys. Several of them seemed to agree with Tao on dropping out. Sighing, she nodded.

       "Fine." Exhaling in relief, she reached to her pocket. "Wait, where's my phone?" At that, he paused time again. Pulling the missing device out of his own pocket, he looked down, trial completed and moving on.

       Trial 40: Don't save Y/N. Don't reverse time.

       Limited power: Tao

       Drop-out Fee: Y/N

       "Don't..." He said, staring at it. "Don't save Y/N?"

Go to Chapter 26

[winterisakillerwrites]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Seven

Chapter: 7/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings:  This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​ for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

Previous

CHAPTER SEVEN

  An exasperated sigh fell from Rosemary’s lips. It was barely noon and already she wanted to ram her head into a wall. This paperwork will be the bloody death of me. She rolled her neck, grimacing at the crack that action released. She was far, far too tense. Another hour, she reasoned. If I can make it another hour and then I can walk away for a bit. She nearly jumped out of her skin as her phone buzzed suddenly to life on the edge of her desk. Absently she reached for it and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as the familiar name flashed on the screen. With a shake of her head, she swiped to answer the call. “Tom.”

 His warm laughter filled her ear and pulled another smile to her face. “Rosie, darling, how are you?”

 “Lay off the charm, Hiddleston,” she joked, rubbing the back of her neck absently with her free hand. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

 Another warm laugh. God did he have any idea the chaos he could unleash with that laugh? She shook her head trying to clear that errant thought away.

 “Gods, you do wonders for my ego.”

 Rosemary smirked, “I do my best.”

 It had been two weeks since she and Tom had shared Chinese take-away in her small flat. The conversation that first night had been slightly stilted after the emotional levity of the hour before, but it was still infinitely better than she could have hoped. And, in all honesty, than she had expected. It was still nowhere near the ease they had shared in years past, both too much and yet too little time had passed for that to occur once more. But it had been a start and for that she’d been grateful.

 Tom hadn’t lingered long after they’d finished their meal, thanking her profusely for both the food and her time. He’d hesitated briefly at the door as she’d walked him out before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She’d stood frozen, butterflies rioting in her chest as he wish her a pleasant evening and closed the door behind him.

 And over those two weeks they had spoken often, mostly by phone though they had occasionally met at various cafés for coffee. Things were simple and unhurried between them. No pressures just the slow process of getting to know each other once more. And for that she’d been incredibly grateful.

 She had been adamant with herself that this time she wouldn’t throw herself blindly into him, into them. They had rushed headlong into their doomed affair without a second thought, and in doing so, had both paid the price. She could not, would not, do that again.

 “…So what do you think?”

 Rosemary shook her head violently, forcing herself back into the present, and realized she’d missed nearly everything he’d said. “I’m sorry, Tom, what?”

 Tom’s chuckle echoed in her ear, “I was asking if you were possibly free for lunch today.”

 She paused, weighing her answer. They had made great leaps in such a short time and she very much wanted to see him. They had met several times for coffee but hadn’t shared a meal since that first night.

 The knock on the doorframe was so soft that at first Rosemary hadn’t been sure she’d heard it. But then it sounded again. Her head jerked up. Jules stood silently in the doorway, a rueful smile spread across her features. She started slightly at the sight before silently waving Jules into the office.

 “Can I take a raincheck on that lunch?”

 She heard a shuffling from Tom’s end. “Sure,” She wondered briefly if the disappointment she heard in his voice was of her own invention or actually there, but quickly brushed the thought off.  “Just let me know when?”

 “I will. Talk later?” She let her own hope color her words, refusing to think further into why that troubled her.

 His warm laughed echoed again in her ear. “Alright, darling. Speak soon.”

 Rosemary let out a small sigh and placed the phone back onto her desk. She turned her attention towards Jules’ uneasy form. She’d walked into the office at Rosemary’s insistence but remained hovering near the doorway. “What can I help you with, Jules?” The unease on Jules’ face unnerved her and a sudden fear bubbled through Rosemary. “Is everything alright with Ingrid and the baby?”

 This seemed to calm Jules slightly and she relaxed her shoulders, walking towards the desk and settling into the chair across. “Yes, she and the little one, she had a boy, did I not tell you?, are fine. She was discharged last week. The baby, David he’s called, is still in NICU but Frank says the doctors think he should be ready to come home in another week or so if his lungs keep developing at the rate they are. So all good there.”

 Rosemary smiled, reaching out to grasp Jules hand and squeeze it gently. “That’s fantastic, I’m so glad everything is well with them.”

 Jules offered her a genuine smile. “Me too.”

 Silence fell between them once again.

 “Is everything alright with the shop? Please tell me that Jordan isn’t completely messing up the shipments…again.”

 Jules laughed, shaking her head. “No more than usual. Everything is fine, Evan’s holding up far better than I expected him to. He may be worth his salt after all.” Both women chuckled. “Online orders are holding well too. And things are good here?”

 Rosemary nodded. “Yeah, Hanna is well worth her weight in gold.” She paused, smiling. “The shop here is doing far better than I hoped it would.”

 “I’m so glad. I know Stories has been your baby for a long time now. You’re doing Agnes and Henry proud, you know.” She offered Rosemary a warm smile.

 Stories Untold had been a small but well maintained bookshop under Agnes and Henry Goode, something they had started after retirement to keep each other occupied and to fulfill a childhood dream of Agnes’.  Both Rosemary and Jules had been two of the first people hired on. They had watched the shop grow and when Agnes’ health had gotten too poorly for her or Henry to continue with its upkeep, Rosemary had jumped at the chance to take the shop under her own wing with their blessing. It had been a challenge and one she’d frequently feared she’d ultimately fail at. Jules had been beside her through the thick and thin. Having her support and her belief had meant the world.

 “I hope so.”

 Jules took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. “I’m sorry.”

 Taken aback, Rosemary stared at the woman sitting before her.

 When she didn’t respond, Jules carried on, “I know you’ve been angry with me and things haven’t been right between us, not since that last lunch…Or well since the morning after our quest to drink greater London out of wine,” She laughed nervously and ran a hand through her hair, “Anyway, I miss my friend. And I want to try to mend this.”

 Rosemary did not speak for several minutes, staring first at the desk before her then at her hands. Jules was undoubtedly one of her closest friends and the strain between them had been a difficult burden to bear. Most of the anger she’d felt had faded, more of tiny flame than the raging inferno, but there was still an unease between them that unsettled her. She had always trusted Jules’ judgement, as opinionated as her friend was Jules usually saw things with a level head. And while she could understand Jules’ hesitance in trusting Tom and his motives, Rosemary found it difficult to reconcile. “I miss you too,” she finally spoke, raising her eyes to Jules. “And I know I’ve not been the easiest person to deal with; taking my anger out on you was unnecessary and not at all fair. But can you understand why?”

 Jules nodded slowly, “I don’t like Tom. You know that, not after what he did. He didn’t see the mess he left, I did. And I know how you were with him and I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again. You are as good as a sister to me, Rose, and it kills me to see you hurt. But I pushed too far and, drunk or not, I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m sorry for that. Really I am.”

 “No you shouldn’t have.” Her tone was harsher than she had intended. She shook her head briefly and carried on. “But I do understand. At least partially. You care. You are the closest thing I have to a sister as well. But Jules, I am an adult. I can make my own choices as to what I can and cannot handle. And if I fall flat then that is on me. Trust that given time I can pull myself up and dust myself off and move on.”  

 Jules smiled softly at Rosemary and nodded. She was silent for several moments before locking her eyes on Rosemary and asking, “Are we okay?”

 Rosemary shrugged. “We’re friends, that hasn’t changed. But I’m still…I understand why you pushed, but it doesn’t mean that I’m fully sure I can completely forgive you for doing so.” She paused, reaching her hand out towards Jules’ and grasping it firmly in hers. “But I don’t want to be angry with you anymore. It’s not solving anything. I just need you to trust me and my own judgement. Please.”

 Squeezing her hand in return, Jules chuckled and then nodded, “I can’t guarantee I won’t make a right mess of it, but I can try.”

 “That’s all I ask.”

 “So,” Jules started, her eyes glancing briefly at the phone then back towards her friend, “who’s the raincheck on?”

 Rosemary smiled softly, knowing that this would certainly put their new found truce to the test. In for a penny…She straightened in her seat, resting her elbows neatly on the desk, her hands folded before her. “Tom.”

 She could see Jules slight start at the name. “Oh. So you patched things up?” The concern and hesitancy in her voice was clear as was the fact that she was holding back.

 “We’re trying,” Rosemary answered honestly. She shrugged. “We’ve been talking off and on for the last few weeks or so. It’s been…” she struggled to find a suitable word, “honestly really nice.”

 Jules nodded but did not speak. Rosemary could see the wheels turning in her head. The silent ‘are you sure this is a good idea’ that screamed in her eyes. “So,” she started, leaning her hands on her thighs, “how did this happen?”

 Rosemary let out a soft sigh, “He came by my flat. He apologized, I apologized. We talked, we were honest with each other.” She paused, shrugging lightly. It was nice to talk about Tom to someone. Even if Jules appeared dubious, at least she’d told someone. “He is a friend, or at least I want him to be. I missed him, Jules. Missed being able to talk to him. Can you understand that?”

 “I don’t know, Rose. Really I don’t…I want to trust that you know what you are doing because usually you do. You are one of the most level headed people I know, but with him…You’re a smart woman…Just be careful, okay. Don’t let him talk you into something you aren’t ready for. Please just try to keep your head.” Jules held up her hand at Rosemary’s stuttered protests. “You are my friend and I worry, but you are more than capable of making your own decisions and knowing what you want. Just make sure you think it through.” She smiled warmly at Rosemary, her hands resting in her lap. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Rosemary sighed, “I understand what you are saying, Jules. But it’s my life, my choice. He is my friend. That is all, I’m not going to make that same mistake again. You need to trust me and trust that I can learn from the past.”

 “Okay. Okay.” Jules pushed herself up from the chair and looked knowingly at her friend. “I was going to head out to grab a bite before heading back to the shop. You interested?”

 Rosemary smiled softly in return. “Any chance of a change in venue?”

 She watched Jules’ red brow quirk and a wicked grin spread across her face. “From our usual? Perish the thought!”

 With a roll of her eyes, Rosemary stood and beckoned her friend. “Come on then.”

                                                       —

  “So sorry it’s taken me so long to ring back.” Rosemary settled herself onto her couch, trying to suppress a groan. Lunch with Jules had been nice, still a bit tense round the edges, but nice all the same. She’d missed her friend and being able to start to mend that bridge had taken a weight off her mind. There was still a ways for them to go, but for now she had her friend back.

 The rest of the day had been relatively uneventful, frustrating mounds of paperwork notwithstanding; Hanna had been taking on more and more of the daily routines and was now practically starting to run the shop on her own. She would give it another week or so before she began to transition back to the original location and then flit back and forth as needed. It was almost bittersweet.

 “Darling, that is quite alright.” His voice was warm in her ear and she fought the urge to groan again. “Busy day, I take it?”

 Rosemary nodded and when it dawned on her that he could not, in fact, see her response answered, “Yes. The shop’s doing well. Both are actually.” She laughed softly. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?” She sat fully upright, frowning as her stomach gave a grumble of protest. It had been several hours since lunch, something her body was obviously not pleased about. Alright then let’s see what we’ve got to work with. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen.

 “I do,” Tom answered. She could hear the smile in his voice. “But I seriously doubt that it will happen. You have a good head on your shoulders and from what you’ve told me you have good people working with and for you. I think you’ll be alright.”

 The fridge wasn’t as barren as she’d feared. ­Thank god for small miracles. Pulling out the container of Alfredo sauce she’d found, and cautiously sniffed just to be safe, Rosemary went in search of whatever pasta was to hand.

 Rosemary sighed as she pulled open the cabinet door. “I know, I know. But you know my mind sometimes.” Tom laughed at this, pulling smile to her face. She pulled down a box and studied it Spaghetti it is then. “I saw Jules today, we hadn’t had a chance to catch up in a while. So that was lovely.” Phone balanced precariously between her ear and shoulder, she carried her boon to the stovetop. She grabbed the pot sitting on the back burner and headed for the sink, quickly filling it. As she turned to make her way back towards the stove the phone slipped and fell with a clatter to the floor. “Shit!” She dropped the pot hastily on the stove and dove for her phone, mumbling curses under her breath. “So, so sorry. I am the worst sort of klutz,” she apologized. She hit the speaker function and placed the phone carefully onto the counter.

 “You quite alright there, Rosie?”

 Rosemary laughed, trying to cover her sudden flustering nervousness. “Yeah, I was just attempting to multi-task and failing horribly. Apparently I cannot handle talking on the phone and cooking at the same time. I kind of dropped you.”

 Tom laughed heartily. “Oh my dear, what am I ever going to do with you?”

 “God knows.” She set the pot to boil and headed back into the living room but not before grabbing a package of crisps. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do with me.” She ripped open the package and settled onto the couch. She popped a few of the crisps into her mouth, it wasn’t much but god she was starving.

 “So how is Jules? You’ve not spoken of her recently?”

 Rosemary sighed, resting her head back against the headrest of the couch. “She’s well. We had lunch today. It’s been awhile since…” She trailed off, rubbing her temples with her free hand. “We had a bit of a falling out a month or so back.”

 “Seriously?” The confusion was evident in his voice. “Over what?”

 She hesitated.

 “Rosie?” Tom urged. She could plainly hear the dawning knowledge in his voice and his need to hear her actually say it.

 A deep sigh fell from her lips, “You…Technically. She was drinking with me that night…She may or may not have been the catalyst for that stupid call.” She sat up more fully and rested her forehead against her upturned hand. “I was upset and angry with her for putting the damned idea in my head and for being so against me even talking to you…I told her off and we stopped talking about everything save the bloody shop.”

 “Oh Rosie…”

 “Don’t Tom.” Her voice was tighter than she’d intended. “It’s over. She and I will be fine. We always are. We’ve talked and I’ve made it clear that I am capable of making my own choices. So don’t worry about it.”

 A hissing from the kitchen snapped her attention back to the present. “Shit!” she shouted as she jumped from the couch and scrambled into the kitchen.

 “What?” Tom’s voice shouted in her ear. “What’s wrong?”

 Hitting the speaker button again, she placed the phone on the counter. “The blasted water is boiling over,” she hissed as she grabbed the pot and lifted it from the heat. Once the water settled, placed it back on the burner. She grabbed the package of spaghetti and emptid it into the pot.

 “Careful or you’ll burn the place down.”

 “Ha, bloody ha, Hiddleston. I can actually cook you know.” She stirred the pasta into the water and left it to return to a boil, setting the kitchen timer before walking back into the living room. “It’s not my fault I was distracted.”

 Tom laughed, “If you insist, darling.”

 “And if I do?” She queried, settling back onto the couch. He laughed again. “So Tom, about that rain check? Are you free tomorrow afternoon by any chance?”

 He groaned and she could clearly see him rubbing his temples with his hand. “I can’t.”

 She tried to stifle the initial wave of disappointment. “Oh...”

 “I have a lunch meeting with my manager tomorrow. But I’m free the day after. Would that be alright?”

 Rosemary smiled. “That would be perfect.”

  Next

[winterisakiller]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Seven

Chapter: 7/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T (for now)

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri  @noplacelikehome77

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CHAPTER SEVEN

 An exasperated sigh fell from Rosemary’s lips. It was barely noon and already she wanted to ram her head into a wall. This paperwork will be the bloody death of me. She rolled her neck, grimacing at the crack that action released. She was far, far too tense. Another hour, she reasoned. If I can make it another hour and then I can walk away for a bit. She nearly jumped out of her skin as her phone buzzed suddenly to life on the edge of her desk. Absently she reached for it and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as the familiar name flashed on the screen. With a shake of her head, she swiped to answer the call. “Tom.” 

His warm laughter filled her ear and pulled another smile to her face. “Rosie, darling, how are you?”

“Lay off the charm, Hiddleston,” she joked, rubbing the back of her neck absently with her free hand. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” 

Another warm laugh. God did he have any idea the chaos he could unleash with that laugh? She shook her head trying to clear that errant thought away. 

“Gods, you do wonders for my ego.” 

Rosemary smirked, “I do my best.” 

It had been two weeks since she and Tom had shared Chinese take-away in her small flat. The conversation that first night had been slightly stilted after the emotional levity of the hour before, but it was still infinitely better than she could have hoped. And, in all honesty, than she had expected. It was still nowhere near the ease they had shared in years past, both too much and yet too little time had passed for that to occur once more. But it had been a start and for that she’d been grateful. 

Tom hadn’t lingered long after they’d finished their meal, thanking her profusely for both the food and her time. He’d hesitated briefly at the door as she’d walked him out before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She’d stood frozen, butterflies rioting in her chest as he wish her a pleasant evening and closed the door behind him. 

And over those two weeks they had spoken often, mostly by phone though they had occasionally met at various cafés for coffee. Things were simple and unhurried between them. No pressures just the slow process of getting to know each other once more. And for that she’d been incredibly grateful. 

She had been adamant with herself that this time she wouldn’t throw herself blindly into him, into them. They had rushed headlong into their doomed affair without a second thought, and in doing so, had both paid the price. She could not, would not, do that again. 

“…So what do you think?” 

Rosemary shook her head violently, forcing herself back into the present, and realized she’d missed nearly everything he’d said. “I’m sorry, Tom, what?” 

Tom’s chuckle echoed in her ear, “I was asking if you were possibly free for lunch today.” 

She paused, weighing her answer. They had made great leaps in such a short time and she very much wanted to see him. They had met several times for coffee but hadn’t shared a meal since that first night. 

The knock on the doorframe was so soft that at first Rosemary hadn’t been sure she’d heard it. But then it sounded again. Her head jerked up. Jules stood silently in the doorway, a rueful smile spread across her features. She started slightly at the sight before silently waving Jules into the office. 

“Can I take a raincheck on that lunch?” 

She heard a shuffling from Tom’s end. “Sure,” She wondered briefly if the disappointment she heard in his voice was of her own invention or actually there, but quickly brushed the thought off.  “Just let me know when?” 

“I will. Talk later?” She let her own hope color her words, refusing to think further into why that troubled her. 

His warm laughed echoed again in her ear. “Alright, darling. Speak soon.” 

Rosemary let out a small sigh and placed the phone back onto her desk. She turned her attention towards Jules’ uneasy form. She’d walked into the office at Rosemary’s insistence but remained hovering near the doorway. “What can I help you with, Jules?” The unease on Jules’ face unnerved her and a sudden fear bubbled through Rosemary. “Is everything alright with Ingrid and the baby?” 

This seemed to calm Jules slightly and she relaxed her shoulders, walking towards the desk and settling into the chair across. “Yes, she and the little one, she had a boy, did I not tell you?, are fine. She was discharged last week. The baby, David he’s called, is still in NICU but Frank says the doctors think he should be ready to come home in another week or so if his lungs keep developing at the rate they are. So all good there.” 

Rosemary smiled, reaching out to grasp Jules hand and squeeze it gently. “That’s fantastic, I’m so glad everything is well with them.” 

Jules offered her a genuine smile. “Me too.” 

Silence fell between them once again. 

“Is everything alright with the shop? Please tell me that Jordan isn’t completely messing up the shipments…again.” 

Jules laughed, shaking her head. “No more than usual. Everything is fine, Evan’s holding up far better than I expected him to. He may be worth his salt after all.” Both women chuckled. “Online orders are holding well too. And things are good here?” 

Rosemary nodded. “Yeah, Hanna is well worth her weight in gold.” She paused, smiling. “The shop here is doing far better than I hoped it would.” 

“I’m so glad. I know Stories has been your baby for a long time now. You’re doing Agnes and Henry proud, you know.” She offered Rosemary a warm smile. 

Stories Untold had been a small but well maintained bookshop under Agnes and Henry Goode, something they had started after retirement to keep each other occupied and to fulfill a childhood dream of Agnes’.  Both Rosemary and Jules had been two of the first people hired on. They had watched the shop grow and when Agnes’ health had gotten too poorly for her or Henry to continue with its upkeep, Rosemary had jumped at the chance to take the shop under her own wing with their blessing. It had been a challenge and one she’d frequently feared she’d ultimately fail at. Jules had been beside her through the thick and thin. Having her support and her belief had meant the world. 

“I hope so.” 

Jules took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. “I’m sorry.” 

Taken aback, Rosemary stared at the woman sitting before her. 

When she didn’t respond, Jules carried on, “I know you’ve been angry with me and things haven’t been right between us, not since that last lunch…Or well since the morning after our quest to drink greater London out of wine,” She laughed nervously and ran a hand through her hair, “Anyway, I miss my friend. And I want to try to mend this.” 

Rosemary did not speak for several minutes, staring first at the desk before her then at her hands. Jules was undoubtedly one of her closest friends and the strain between them had been a difficult burden to bear. Most of the anger she’d felt had faded, more of tiny flame than the raging inferno, but there was still an unease between them that unsettled her. She had always trusted Jules’ judgement, as opinionated as her friend was Jules usually saw things with a level head. And while she could understand Jules’ hesitance in trusting Tom and his motives, Rosemary found it difficult to reconcile. “I miss you too,” she finally spoke, raising her eyes to Jules. “And I know I’ve not been the easiest person to deal with; taking my anger out on you was unnecessary and not at all fair. But can you understand why?” 

Jules nodded slowly, “I don’t like Tom. You know that, not after what he did. He didn’t see the mess he left, I did. And I know how you were with him and I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again. You are as good as a sister to me, Rose, and it kills me to see you hurt. But I pushed too far and, drunk or not, I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m sorry for that. Really I am.” 

“No you shouldn’t have.” Her tone was harsher than she had intended. She shook her head briefly and carried on. “But I do understand. At least partially. You care. You are the closest thing I have to a sister as well. But Jules, I am an adult. I can make my own choices as to what I can and cannot handle. And if I fall flat then that is on me. Trust that given time I can pull myself up and dust myself off and move on.”   

Jules smiled softly at Rosemary and nodded. She was silent for several moments before locking her eyes on Rosemary and asking, “Are we okay?”

Rosemary shrugged. “We’re friends, that hasn’t changed. But I’m still…I understand why you pushed, but it doesn’t mean that I’m fully sure I can completely forgive you for doing so.” She paused, reaching her hand out towards Jules’ and grasping it firmly in hers. “But I don’t want to be angry with you anymore. It’s not solving anything. I just need you to trust me and my own judgement. Please.” 

Squeezing her hand in return, Jules chuckled and then nodded, “I can’t guarantee I won’t make a right mess of it, but I can try.” 

“That’s all I ask.” 

“So,” Jules started, her eyes glancing briefly at the phone then back towards her friend, “who’s the raincheck on?” 

Rosemary smiled softly, knowing that this would certainly put their new found truce to the test. In for a penny…She straightened in her seat, resting her elbows neatly on the desk, her hands folded before her. “Tom.” 

She could see Jules slight start at the name. “Oh. So you patched things up?” The concern and hesitancy in her voice was clear as was the fact that she was holding back. 

“We’re trying,” Rosemary answered honestly. She shrugged. “We’ve been talking off and on for the last few weeks or so. It’s been…” she struggled to find a suitable word, “honestly really nice.” 

Jules nodded but did not speak. Rosemary could see the wheels turning in her head. The silent ‘are you sure this is a good idea’ that screamed in her eyes. “So,” she started, leaning her hands on her thighs, “how did this happen?” 

Rosemary let out a soft sigh, “He came by my flat. He apologized, I apologized. We talked, we were honest with each other.” She paused, shrugging lightly. It was nice to talk about Tom to someone. Even if Jules appeared dubious, at least she’d told someone. “He is a friend, or at least I want him to be. I missed him, Jules. Missed being able to talk to him. Can you understand that?” 

“I don’t know, Rose. Really I don’t…I want to trust that you know what you are doing because usually you do. You are one of the most level headed people I know, but with him…You’re a smart woman…Just be careful, okay. Don’t let him talk you into something you aren’t ready for. Please just try to keep your head.” Jules held up her hand at Rosemary’s stuttered protests. “You are my friend and I worry, but you are more than capable of making your own decisions and knowing what you want. Just make sure you think it through.” She smiled warmly at Rosemary, her hands resting in her lap. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Rosemary sighed, “I understand what you are saying, Jules. But it’s my life, my choice. He is my friend. That is all, I’m not going to make that same mistake again. You need to trust me and trust that I can learn from the past.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Jules pushed herself up from the chair and looked knowingly at her friend. “I was going to head out to grab a bite before heading back to the shop. You interested?” 

Rosemary smiled softly in return. “Any chance of a change in venue?” 

She watched Jules’ red brow quirk and a wicked grin spread across her face. “From our usual? Perish the thought!” 

With a roll of her eyes, Rosemary stood and beckoned her friend. “Come on then.”

                                                          — 

 “So sorry it’s taken me so long to ring back.” Rosemary settled herself onto her couch, trying to suppress a groan. Lunch with Jules had been nice, still a bit tense round the edges, but nice all the same. She’d missed her friend and being able to start to mend that bridge had taken a weight off her mind. There was still a ways for them to go, but for now she had her friend back. 

The rest of the day had been relatively uneventful, frustrating mounds of paperwork notwithstanding; Hanna had been taking on more and more of the daily routines and was now practically starting to run the shop on her own. She would give it another week or so before she began to transition back to the original location and then flit back and forth as needed. It was almost bittersweet. 

“Darling, that is quite alright.” His voice was warm in her ear and she fought the urge to groan again. “Busy day, I take it?” 

Rosemary nodded and when it dawned on her that he could not, in fact, see her response answered, “Yes. The shop’s doing well. Both are actually.” She laughed softly. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?” She sat fully upright, frowning as her stomach gave a grumble of protest. It had been several hours since lunch, something her body was obviously not pleased about. Alright then let’s see what we’ve got to work with. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen. 

“I do,” Tom answered. She could hear the smile in his voice. “But I seriously doubt that it will happen. You have a good head on your shoulders and from what you’ve told me you have good people working with and for you. I think you’ll be alright.” 

The fridge wasn’t as barren as she’d feared. ­Thank god for small miracles. Pulling out the container of Alfredo sauce she’d found, and cautiously sniffed just to be safe, Rosemary went in search of whatever pasta was to hand. 

Rosemary sighed as she pulled open the cabinet door. “I know, I know. But you know my mind sometimes.” Tom laughed at this, pulling smile to her face. She pulled down a box and studied it Spaghetti it is then. “I saw Jules today, we hadn’t had a chance to catch up in a while. So that was lovely.” Phone balanced precariously between her ear and shoulder, she carried her boon to the stovetop. She grabbed the pot sitting on the back burner and headed for the sink, quickly filling it. As she turned to make her way back towards the stove the phone slipped and fell with a clatter to the floor. “Shit!” She dropped the pot hastily on the stove and dove for her phone, mumbling curses under her breath. “So, so sorry. I am the worst sort of klutz,” she apologized. She hit the speaker function and placed the phone carefully onto the counter. 

“You quite alright there, Rosie?” 

Rosemary laughed, trying to cover her sudden flustering nervousness. “Yeah, I was just attempting to multi-task and failing horribly. Apparently I cannot handle talking on the phone and cooking at the same time. I kind of dropped you.” 

Tom laughed heartily. “Oh my dear, what am I ever going to do with you?” 

“God knows.” She set the pot to boil and headed back into the living room but not before grabbing a package of crisps. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do with me.” She ripped open the package and settled onto the couch. She popped a few of the crisps into her mouth, it wasn’t much but god she was starving. 

“So how is Jules? You’ve not spoken of her recently?” 

Rosemary sighed, resting her head back against the headrest of the couch. “She’s well. We had lunch today. It’s been awhile since…” She trailed off, rubbing her temples with her free hand. “We had a bit of a falling out a month or so back.” 

“Seriously?” The confusion was evident in his voice. “Over what?” 

She hesitated. 

“Rosie?” Tom urged. She could plainly hear the dawning knowledge in his voice and his need to hear her actually say it. 

A deep sigh fell from her lips, “You…Technically. She was drinking with me that night…She may or may not have been the catalyst for that stupid call.” She sat up more fully and rested her forehead against her upturned hand. “I was upset and angry with her for putting the damned idea in my head and for being so against me even talking to you…I told her off and we stopped talking about everything save the bloody shop.” 

“Oh Rosie…” 

“Don’t Tom.” Her voice was tighter than she’d intended. “It’s over. She and I will be fine. We always are. We’ve talked and I’ve made it clear that I am capable of making my own choices. So don’t worry about it.” 

A hissing from the kitchen snapped her attention back to the present. “Shit!” she shouted as she jumped from the couch and scrambled into the kitchen. 

“What?” Tom’s voice shouted in her ear. “What’s wrong?” 

Hitting the speaker button again, she placed the phone on the counter. “The blasted water is boiling over,” she hissed as she grabbed the pot and lifted it from the heat. Once the water settled, placed it back on the burner. She grabbed the package of spaghetti and emptied it into the pot. 

“Careful or you’ll burn the place down.” 

“Ha, bloody ha, Hiddleston. I can actually cook you know.” She stirred the pasta into the water and left it to return to a boil, setting the kitchen timer before walking back into the living room. “It’s not my fault I was distracted.” 

Tom laughed, “If you insist, darling.” 

“And if I do?” She queried, settling back onto the couch. He laughed again. “So Tom, about that rain check? Are you free tomorrow afternoon by any chance?” 

He groaned and she could clearly see him rubbing his temples with his hand. “I can’t.” 

She tried to stifle the initial wave of disappointment. “Oh...” 

“I have a lunch meeting with my manager tomorrow. But I’m free the day after. Would that be alright?” 

Rosemary smiled. “That would be perfect.” 

Next Chapter

[harperonni]

Separation: Coco drabble

Heavily inspired by @heyheyitsjuju​‘s headcanons on the twins waking up after dying. I wanted to have a go at writing a drabble based on it aaaaaaaa It’s not much but ayy ^^

There was gentle murmur above where Oscar lay, rousing him from unconsciousness. A soft but firm pressure spread against his back and he shifting a little, shoulders pushing into the fabric of his shift and a mattress supporting him. Was he home? He didn’t remember falling asleep, or even anything before that. What had he been doing before he fell asleep. The noise continued and he picked up two different pitches. Two people talking, their words slipping past him even as he tried to focus on what they were saying, who they were. Something in the distance clicked and quiet followed.

It wasn't anyone he knew, he was sure. He’d know his family anywhere. Was he even home then? Where was he? A dull pain slowly throbbed behind his eyes as he tried to open them. Oscar shifted, only just beginning to feel his fingers twitch against his side, brushing a soft, cool surface. His limbs felt unusually light, and as he touched the surface an odd sensation began to arise. Something felt uncanny, and he couldn’t pinpoint what the actual cause of distress was. He managed to force his eyes open, immediately blinking at light sharply hitting his vision and he groaned, moving his shoulders without getting up to see if he could lift an arm over his eyes. The voice wasn't far and suddenly became clear as he lifted his hand in front of his eyes. “¿Señor? Can you-?” Oscar paled, struck by disbelief. A skeletal hand hovered above his face, held up by bone wrist and arm traveling down toward him. He stared for a moment, uncertain. When he flexed his fingers the phalanges moved too. He shot up, body finally responding. His feet kicked a little as he sat up, lifting his other hand close to the other. Skeletal. He breathed shakily, chest tight. He glanced down at his clothes. His vision fuzzed a little, and he reached up, feeling a dent in the side of his glasses as he adjusted them. A crack ran down the centre of one lens, but it was hardly Oscar’s focus in that moment as he looked down at himself. His torn, disheveled clothes. The white of a kneecap poked out through his trousers, and debris dusted on him to him. He was suddenly far too aware of the suffocating smell clinging to him, the faint mix of burning rubber and dirt, and something clicked. He slowly pressed his fingers to his chest, and watched as they sunk into the fabric of his shirt, a few fingers stopping at the firm bone’s of ribs. “¿Señor?” He snapped his attention up, and stared, wide-eyed. A tall skeleton clad in suspenders and a white shirt was seated in a chair beside the bed he sat on. His hair slicked back, dull colours and markings decorated his skull.

“¿How are you feeling, Señor?” The other man (A doctor Oscar guessed from the medical white coat) asked, voice slightly gravelled. Oscar shook his head slightly, unsure of what else to do. The guard nodded slightly, attention going back to a clipboard in his his hands. Skeletal hands. Oscar winced, hands twitching. “Am I dead?” He asked, watching as he other sighed, looking up with a sympathetic wince. “Sí, Señor. Welcome to the Land of the Dead. I’m here to introduce you, help you adjust and come to terms with the situation. There’s a few-” Oscar found himself toning out the man, thoughts buzzing in his head. Oscar sat up a little straighter, wincing at the sound of bones clacking. He reached up to touch his face, sliding his fingers across the crevices and bumps of his skull. HIS skull. “-A family member should be here soon, I’m sure they will be able-” He especially couldn’t deny it as he remembered the brief panic of the world going dark, crushing and suffocating. The way the traincarts had jolted so suddenly and how the world was a blur in seconds, heat blaring across the air as something pinned deep into his chest. The way it had all been so sudden. The way he and Felipe had just been sat together before- “-May feel some phantom pains from when you died, but they-” Oscar stiffened, sitting straighter as he glanced about the room again, twisting to look behind himself to see no more than a wall. He clutched his chest, trying to ease his panic at the sight of the dull wall. He snapped his attention back to the doctor. “Where’s Felipe?” He demanded, voice wavering. The man opposite him blinked, taken off guard. “I… ¿Perdón?” Oscar pushed himself forward, desperate, even as the other stood, warning him to be careful, but Oscar didn’t care. “Felipe! Mi Hermano, mi gemelo! He was with me, we were together-!” His hands shook, bones clicking as he stared at the man. A worried frown formed on the doctor’s skull as he lifted one hand in a calming motion. “Ah, Señor please, stay calm. I’m sure if you wait a moment we will be able to-” Oscar felt a gripping pain where his chest was, a twisting in where his gut would have been if he- It was wrong, it was all so wrong, they were always together, always! Ever since they were niños with glasses too big for their faces, ever since they were babies, ever since they were even born-! Nothing could separate them and they felt that so strongly, and he never thought that maybe- It felt wrong to think that maybe- Maybe… Oh Dios... Oscar held himself, falling back against the bed, tight pains ripping through his empty chest, suffocating and far too tight. “We’re always together, he- I can’t- He can’t-!” A sob broke as he squeezed his hands together against his chin, trying to control his breathing as he gasped for air. The voice of the other man hardly intelligible over his own thoughts and panic, and he sat there unable to stop the shaking, bones rattling hard as he gasped for air between sobs because Felipe was gone, he wasn’t here and he couldn’t see him and he would never be beside him again and- Everything around him was null as his panic refused to subside.

“-Rivera… Hold on a moment, por favor.” Imelda scowled as the man at the desk typed something into the box. What a waste of time, it would be so much more efficient to write and label everything without the use of this ‘new’ technology. She managed just fine without them the whole life and was horrified at how much they were being relied on nowadays. The secretary clicked something down onto the keyboard and reached toward the phone sat at the desk, eyes not leaving the screen as he lifted the phone to his skull. It made a small noise for a moment and the secretary smiled at Imelda briefly. Imelda stared back disapprovingly, hands at her side. Her thumb caught a bit of the fabric of her dress and brushed it, feeling the texture. Standing here wasn’t getting her any closer to Oscar and Felipe.

“Señorita Rivera is here for her hermanos…” A pause stretched and the secretary's smile faded a little. Another pause and the secretary nodded, muttering affirmations.

“Okay… Sí, sí…”

Imelda folded her arms, feeling a sense of defence at the somber tone. Couldn’t it be easier to gather her brothers, already? These people just had to complicate it, didn’t they? Surely it was a given everyone would want to reunite with their family much quicker than need be. It’s already been too long since she saw those cheeky brothers of hers… She stared at the secretary who placed the phone down with a click, a unsettled expression beginning to play across their skull. Imelda tensed. As the secretary slowly stood her patience snapped.

“Where are my hermanos?” She asked, an edge gripping her tone and causing the man before to flinch a little.

“Señorita, It sounds as though your hermano’s are-” He paused, eyes trailing to the floor as he clasped his hands together, frowning deeply. “- A bit panicked at the moment…”

Imelda huffed, rolling her eyes. She stepped forward, back straight and head high.

“Surely the doctor’s are used to handling new arrivals and calming them down, Sí?” This was ridiculous, no one seemed to be able to do their job here…

The secretary watched, slight dumbfounded as Imelda marched her way past him toward the waking room corridor. He scrambled after her, with a small sound of protest, blocking her path. She shot him an icy glare as he held up his hands.

“Well, sí, of course! Passing can be a delicate situation, but the problem seems to be- ah-!” Imelda continued to walk past him and he faltered for a moment before continuing, following uselessly. “-They woke up in separate rooms and-” He jumped back when Imelda halt, and spun around to glare at him. Disbelief and hesitation found their way into her voice.

“¿...Qué...?”

The secretary seemed shrink back under Imelda’s gaze, skull beginning to sink into his rib cage. “They were put in seperate wake up rooms when they arrived. They were said to be fine at first but-”

“Seperate rooms?!” Imelda growled, ire beginning to pierce her gaze. “They were seperated?!”

The secretary’s shoulders hunched more and more and from a few rooms they had already passed a few doctors and recently awoken patients were opening doors by a gap or viewing safely through the windows. A few workers in the main area of the department glanced down the hallway before hurrying off.

“Señorita Rivera?” A voice from behind her interrupted, and she whirled around at the source. The secretary let out a sigh of relief at the doctor, and quickly backed away out of the fire. “I assume you know about your brother’s-” “Where are they?” She growled, shoulders squaring, fists clenched tight near her hips. The doctor sighed, holding up his hands. “They are in separate rooms, we were not aware they would react in such a-” Imelda stormed past him, catching a glimpse of a fully opened door behind the doctor with a small nurse close to it. The nurse flinched back, stepping far out of reach of Imelda’s wrath. Imelda turned into the room and her heart broke at the sight. She knew it was Oscar. The few times he had ever been this upset he often curled himself into the corner, or hugged himself tightly. He was curled on the bed, fists gripping tightly into his sleeves as he shook. As soon as a sob made its way to Imelda’s ears she rushed over, kneeling by the bed and slowly placing her hands onto Oscar’s hands, all instincts, maternal and sisterly, set on calming her hermanito. “Shh, Oscar. Está bien, Lo prometo. Cálmese, cálmese. I’m right here, see?” Oscar’s breathing was still heavy, but he lifted his head as her voice began to register. He frowned a little, panicked expression relenting for just a moment. “...‘Melda?” His voice was so small, so soft... She frowned, nodding and reaching a hand over to cup his cheek bone, watching carefully for any flinch, any discomfort at the act. “Sí, It’s me. Estoy aquí, hermanito, calm down.” She pulled her hand away and Oscar sucked in a shaky breath. Imelda pried his hands off his arms and held them close together, covering them with both her own hands. “Im...Imelda…” Her brother’s voice shook, and his breathing began to pick up again. “Feli- Felipe.. He-” She hushed him, squeezing his hands with a frown. “He’s in another room. You will see him in a moment I promise.” Oscar’s eyes widened and blinked, but Imelda continued. “You need to breath, Oscar. Calm yourself.” Oscar nodded, as his gaze fell to her hands over his, his chest rising and falling in paces that began to steady. Imelda took the moment to glare over her shoulder, to see the doctor stood near the doorway. He was glancing off to the side when Imelda turned. He shifted and looked back toward her. “Seno-” He began and Imelda cut him off. “Show us where Felipe is.” She demanded sharply. The doctor winced, nodding. Imelda gently pulled Oscar up, and her heart ached a little as he stood a head taller than him. She knew he was an adult, but she still remembered to two bruised up boys she would yell at for tracking dirt through the house. Who had teased her relentlessly as they had grown up, and often causing her grief with their ridiculous schemes. Two boys with glasses too big for their faces. The ones who shot up past her, and she had to start pulling their heads down to press kisses to their foreheads. The ones who had hugged her the one night she felt lost for the briefest bit of time, and had remained by her side through the thick of it all. It was so wrong to see even just one of them like this… She led Oscar to the doorway and he trailed close behind her, a hnd still gripping hers as though she’d disappear at any moment. The doctor remained quiet as he led them two doors down and Imelda’s rage began to rekindle. The audacity these idiotas had! They had been so close the whole time. The pain her brother’s had gone through had been unnecessary and pointless! All of this mess could have been avoided so easily- She was snapped out of her rage as Oscar raced into the room, crying out happily. She hadn’t even noticed the door being opened. ”Felipe!” ”Oscar!?” Imelda stood, watching into the room as the twins collided, both babbling back and forth to each other, arms locked tightly around the other. “Hermano, I thought you weren't-” “I thought I- “I thought you-” “I didn’t-!” “Neither did I!” “¡Gracias a Dios-!” “¡-Que estás aquí!” They continued to hug, and Felipe sniffled, Oscar sobbing with joy. Imelda could still feel the doctor close, and the urge to rip her shoe off and bash it over the man’s head burst through her chest. She whirled around, her boot off in a practised swipe. Oscar and Felipe’s attention snapped toward the doorway at a loud yelp and the two saw Imelda’s boot held above her head and the doctor’s skull spinning atop his spine. The moment the doctor had adjusted his skull Imelda was hitting again, screaming her anger at how stupid the man had to be to ever do such a thing to her hermanitos. The twins glanced at each other, worried frowns shaped on matching skulls. They observed each other for a moment, taking in their marks. They both reached up, trailing the small swirls on their own cheekbones. Oscar smiled a sense of relief finally settling over him, and Felipe smiled back.

Rushed a bit at the end but aaaaaaaaaaaa This was a lot of fun to write omg

[jessestjamesnyc]

Para: Interruptions

WHO: @nycjessestjames & @dariuspuckerman & chelsea

WHEN: Friday 30th November, evening (after text convo)

WHERE: Jesse’ apartment.

WHAT: Darius meets Jesse at his apartment instead… however, things don’t go to plan.

Jesse: Jesse groaned as he finally made his way to his apartment building, his steps feeling heavy as he walked towards the elevator. It was already 15 minutes past six, so he was hoping he wouldn’t find Darius already waiting at his door. Not that he wouldn’t like that, he would be a sight for sore eyes, but he’d feel bad if he’d made him wait since he’d said around six. Though when he reached his door he noticed Darius wasn’t there, sliding his key into the lock and turning it. It was amazing how in just under two months, he’d come to depend on the other man so much. Sometimes he had to remind himself they were just fooling around. He’d already thought about what he could get him as a Christmas gift but he didn’t know if they were doing that. Was something you did with a - well - fuck buddy? When he’d started this thing with Darius, he knew he wasn’t ready for a new relationship (least of all with a man) but now… now he thought that maybe he was. And that he wanted it with Darius.

But Darius had also said he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He remembered it clearly. And as far as he knew, he still wasn’t. So he had no intentions of bringing anything up, he didn’t want to lose what they had. He felt like collapsing on the couch but with his and Chelsea’s busy schedule, the apartment wasn’t the cleanest. So he sighed, and started to pick up the various things that had been left around, mainly dishes which he filled the sink up to soak them in. At least now the quick clean up had made the apartment more presentable. Darius hadn’t really come here, they normally stayed at Darius’ since Jesse lived with Chelsea. But she was going to out later tonight, so he didn’t think anything to it and plus, he was exhausted. He lived barely ten minutes from the theatre and while he didn’t normally mind travelling the extra half an hour to Darius’, tonight he just didn’t have the energy.

Darius: Darius held the door to the liquor store open with his back for another person to pass, since his two hands were busy, one with the container holding the lasagna, the other with a bottle of wine he had just bought at the store. They had to drink something with their dinner, right? And something told him Jesse hadn’t had the time to do any actual shopping. Trying his best to fight the weather down until he made it down the stairs, he was happy to see the train arriving to the platform just as he did, so he got in quickly and sat down to make the ride to Jesse’s place. Although he had his own car, ever since the weather had gotten so bad he had preferred to leaveit tucked away at the parking lot near his home as much as he could.

It wasn’t too long before he was making the one block walk from the station to the building where Jesse lived, and the way his heart beat faster with every approaching step was also an indicator for that. They were obviously having a good time, a really good time, but Darius felt like he shouldn’t be pushing his luck. Jesse had been in a relationship with a woman for years, a woman he loved, or still did, he didn’t know. More importantly, a woman pregnant with his child. And given how seemingly apprehensive Jesse had been until they actually went all the way with sex, he wouldn’t be surprised if someday, somehow, Jesse would wake and tell him he didn’t want any of it anymore. That perhaps he felt more comfortably with women.

Therefore, the phrase ‘seize the day’ was branded in his mind. At least until the bubble would burst.

He finally made it to the apartment building and went quickly up the steps, and he managed to bump the button of the buzzer with his nose.

Jesse: Jesse seemed to have got home just in the nick of time, as the rain started pouring buckets when he’d barely been home a minute. He watched the rain out of the window of his apartment as he cleaned and washed the dishes. He jumped when the buzzer went, the loud sound making him snap out of his daze. He glanced down at himself and realised he was still wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing all day at the theatre and he cursed to himself. “Idiot,” he muttered, drying his hands and walking over to the intercom. He pressed the buzzer and smiled, “come on up.” And then - in what might have been the quickest he’d ever moved - dashed into his room, pulling off the dirty clothes and throwing on a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He probably could have taken the time since he got home to shower instead of doing the stupid dishes, but he’d been tired and hadn’t thought. When he heard the knock on the door, he opened in and grinned at Darius, “man, you’re a sight for sore eyes. And that lasagne smells amazing. Come in.”

Darius: Darius made it quickly inside the door after he was buzzed in, the rain now falling downn heavily, and he shook the damp off him as best as he could at the threshold before he went up the stairs, and then he knocked on the door and swayed on his spot slightly until Jesse opened the door. “Hey! I come bearing gifts” he said, both his hands showing what he had brought, then he looked at him and frowned a bit. “Wow, you do look tired” he said as he walked past him, stealing a quick kiss as he did, then he headed right into the kitchen to put everything down, and after that was done he took his own wet coat off. “Man, I barely made it. It’s pouring outside.”

Jesse: Jesse couldn’t help but smile when Darius kissed him quickly, it all feel so domestic already. “Well, by all means, don’t let me be the reason you leave your wet clothes on.” He winked at him, and grabbed a hanger so he could hang Darius’ coat up to dry. He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, turning them right side up so Darius could pour their drinks. “Thank you for the wine, you didn’t have to … although I really had nothing to offer you anyway so it’s probably best. I swear, I really need to go shopping.” He chuckled, shaking his head to himself.

Darius: Darius smiled at Jesse as he handed him his coat, then worked into getting some wine in the glasses, which would be a nice thing to have, with the weather being so wet and cold. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I know that you’ve been busy and stuff, so I thought ‘do it well, or don’t do it at all’, you know?” He gave him his glass and raised his own. “To a nice, impromptu dinner together. Cheers. So how are rehearsals going? Other than crazy busy, that is” he said with a chuckle, then put his hand around Jesse’s waist and pulled him close to him.

Jesse: Jesse chuckled and clinked his glass softly against Darius’ and nodded, “cheers.” He echoed, taking a sip as Darius asked him how rehearsals, “go- hey!” His body was tugged in close to Darius and he laughed, shaking his head with a smile on his face, “good. Busy but that’s just because previews are next week. It’ll calm down once the show is finalised and the official opening night happens and stuff. I’m glad you could make it tonight. Honestly, I was thinking of calling you for phone sex if you didn’t because god,” he groaned, his whole body aching, “after dance rehearsal today, I needed to blow off steam. And here you are, bearing gifts of lasagne, wine and yourself. Even better.”

Darius:  For the first time since they started their thing there was suddenly a flat feeling in his stomach at the mention of him just being a pressure release valvle. It wasn’t by any means the first time either of them had said those exact same words, since Jesse had been to his apartment plenty of times after a busy night at the club. And yet, on that night, there was an unsettling feeling on the pit of his stomach about being, well, a sex provider, and nothing more. Of course, he wasn’t going to say all of that out loud. “Of course. You know me, always happy to lend a hand.” He patted Jesse’s ass, then let go of him and grabbed the bag with the lasagna. “Maybe we should re-heat this up a bit? I think the cold weather outside got it a bit cold.”

Jesse: “Mmm,” Jesse swallowed the mouthful of wine he had and nodded, “yeah, of course. Hang on, I’ll get a tray. Probably heat up better in the oven.” Since he doubted the container Darius had the lasagne in was oven safe, he grabbed a ceramic oven tray out and they slid it onto it and popped it in the oven. “There,” he leaned against the counter and looked over at Darius, completely oblivious to the thoughts that had been going through his head moments earlier. “So, enough about me and rehearsals. How have you been? It feels like ages since I’ve seen you even if it’s only been like four days.”

Darius: Darius nodded at Jesse’s suggestion and pulled the container out of the bag and then let the other man do his thing. He took a good sip of hie glass as he watched him do that, then leaned against the opposite corner. “Eh, you know. Just working a lot. We started to get ready for the holidays days so, yeah… It’s kind of a lot.” He chuckled and shrugged. “Don’t tell you’re getting so addicted to me, you already miss me after four days.” He smirked. “I also figured you needed your space for rehearsing and all that. Didn’t want you getting too exhausted for it, and that it’d be my fault.”

Jesse: Jesse rolled his eyes, “oh, shut up. It’s - you’re - “ He looked up at Darius and paused, for what was probably a second too long, “I don’t know. You’re something else, Darius Puckerman.” He gave him a small smile, then double checked the oven was on as an excuse to look away. Too much, a small voice in his head spoke up and he shook it off. “And besides, haven’t you heard? I am excellent on stage, you couldn’t tire me out too much for that. It’s,” he shrugged, “like a second home. Being up there. Plus,” he grinned, bringing the glass to his lips, “I’m a sucker for applause.”

Darius: A soft tickle came over his stomach when Jesse said that about him, especially because of the way he said it: the stammer, the stare, and then the looking away. It made his own cheeks heat up a bit but he pushed it down quickly. He knew better than to read too much into things. “Well thanks! I’d like to think I am” he said with a chuckle to break the sudden silence, then he looked at him and smiled. “I know you are, and I know that only by seeing you on videos. Imagine how much I’m gonna like it when I see the whole thing live.” He raised his glass and winked. “You’ll have mine, that’s for sure. Oh, and Gabriel’s. He can’t wait to see you on stage either.”

Jesse: Jesse couldn’t help but grin widely at Darius when he said that, “I’m so glad you and Gabriel will be coming. You guys can come backstage after if you like, I’ll let them know at the door to let you through, you just have to tell them your name. My hat is way cooler than the one Chris gave him,” he scoffed, just as the oven timer sounded to let them know the food was warmed up. He served them up some lasagne and the salad that Darius had brought, while Darius topped up their wine glasses and they carried it all the couch. He broke off a bit of the lasagne and blew on it softly, before eating it and he gave a soft, content sigh. “Mmm… you’re right, this is great lasagne. Maybe I need to get their take out menu too, though if they’re near you they may not deliver here,” he chuckled, as they continued eating.

Darius: Darius followed Jesse to the couch, wine and glasses in hand, then they both sat down to enjoy their now hot again dinner. “Told you so” he said with a soft chuckle, his hand covering his mouth since he hadn’t yet swallowed his whole bite of food down, then shrugged. “I suppose it’s a bit far, but who knows… Maybe with the right type of tip they could be convinced.” He elbowed him playfully and wiggled his eyebrows before he laughed soundly and continued eating, just like Jesse did. Maybe it was because they were both that hungry, or just because the food was that good, but it wasn’t long before they finished their food, and were left only with their glasses in hand, enjoying what it was left of their wine. By this point both of them had their legs tangle together on the couch, a sort of limb bundle that kept them both warm and snuggled, and also gave them the chance to touch one another a bit.

Jesse: Jesse absentmindedly swirled the wine around in his glass, staring down at it as he leaned into Darius’ body. It was so comfortable, laying here with him on the couch. He almost forgot that Darius would go home after this, to his own apartment. That they weren’t actually dating. That they were just two friends helping each other out. He sighed softly to himself and then finished the wine in one go, plucking Darius’ glass from his hand with a grin and leaning forward to put them both on the coffee table. He moved to straddle Darius, his legs on either side of him and - without saying a word - leaned in to kiss him soundly.

Darius: Darius didn’t even register the moment when Jesse leaned against him, or when his own arm went around his shoulder to hold him there, both of them apparently settled into a comfortable silence while they let the fact they had just had a good meal settle in, but it feel so natural to simply be like that, it took hima couple more seconds to say to himself they weren’t in any kind of relationship but one of friends with benefits, although the line between that and something more was becoming more blurry with every passing minute.

There wasn’t really much wine left in his glass, but he still was caught off base when Jesse took it from his hand, then even more so when the other male was suddenly straddling his lap, his whole body keeping him down hard. “Hey there” he barely got to say with a small grin on his face before their lips met in a hard kiss, lips parted and willing, the warmth of their sudden and mutual desire growing with every stroke of their tongues between their mouths. His hands moved up and down Jesse’s back, then finally slipped under his shirt and drummed the bare skin under the fabric, all while he moaned softly against his lips. 

Jesse: Jesse hummed softly when Darius’ fingers slipped under his shirt, and he wasted no time in pulling it off himself, and throwing it aside, breaking the kiss for only just as long as he needed to. Clothes were the last thing he wanted in the way right now, so he wasn’t going to dawdle in getting them off. He ran his hands down the front of Darius shirt, and the man really knew how to pick shirts that showed the lines of his muscles. It was almost bordering between fitting him perfectly and being just slightly too tight, not that Jesse minded. He entertained himself with the idea that Darius had chosen it for him, though he doubted it was the case. Without skipping a beat with the way their mouths moved against one another, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt slowly, pushing it aside to reveal more skin each time.

Darius: Darius looked up at Jesse as he broke the kiss to take his shirt off, for which he was thankful, since he loved to admire the other male’s body every chance he got. Jesse wasn’t a strong, build up man, but his muscles filled his body in all the right places, and Darius loved to trace all the curves of them with his fingertips, almost making a mental map of it. He had a brief chance to press his lips to the center of his chest before Jesse captured his lips again, his fingers now working on undoing the buttons of his shirt; he smiled into the kiss and looked at him. “I guess the lasagna worked, huh? Or was it the wine?” He chuckled and kissed him again, his fingers now dragging their way down his back, all the way down until they grabbed onto his buttocks and squeezed on them hard.

Jesse: Jesse grinned and shook his head, “Darius, if you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of hot. The lasagne and the wine were great, but I really don’t need any more wooing than just you being here.” He realised how cheesy that sounded and internally winced, then kissed him, deeply, so he wouldn’t have a chance to reply. He groaned when Darius’ hands found their way to his ass, and he rocked his body down against him. His fingers continued to unbutton Darius’ shirt until they were all undone, and then he pushed it aside and off his shoulders, tossing it somewhat in the same direction as his own from moments earlier. “Much better,” he muttered, letting his hands explore the muscles there.

Darius: Darius was about to say something but the way Jesse shut him up this time, his tongue pushing further into his mouth while he rocked his bosy on top of him were reasons enough for him to stay quiet. The heat quickly grew inside of him with the way they were making out, bodies grinding, hands touching one another wherever they could reach, and his own hands soon found a new target to work on. He single handedly undid Jesse’s sweats, pulling them down low enough so he could slip his hand in. Or more like, his both hands in, since his other one also slipped in, but down his back. His teeth tugged onto Jesse’s lower lips, while one hand stroke the length shape over his briefs, and the other rubbed the line of his crack, also over the briefs, but pressing down enough for him to feel it.

Jesse: Jesse groaned as Darius’ hand slipped under the waistband of his briefs, and any lingering thoughts about what they were doing disappeared from his mind in an instance. That could be a problem for later because right now, this was what they were doing and Jesse wasn’t about to stop that for anything. He ground his body forward into Darius’ touch as his own hands worked at getting open the button to Darius trousers as well. The again perfectly fitted trousers. Damn him. They were both so preoccupied with the way their bodies were moving together, the way their lips were sliding against one another, that neither of them noticed the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Chelsea: Chelsea had a long day and couldn’t wait to get home and relax. She walked up to the apartment and unlocked the door. She walked into the apartment and threw her keys in her bag. She went to toss her bag on the couch when she looked up and saw Jesse making out with another man, “What the actual fuck..” Chelsea was stunned and didn’t know what to say or do at the moment. “Jesse what is the hell did I walk in on?” the brunette said as she covered her eyes and headed for her room. 

Darius: A broad smile curled his lips against Jesse’s when he felt the warmth of his hand making his way inside his pants, his fingertips soon stroking the fabric that covered his crotch. His own hand closed hard around the quickly hardening member between his fingers, his other hand already finding that other sweet spot that he would soon be enjoying and rubbing them both in a slow, painfully steady rhythm. Neither one heard the door being unlocked and opened, and maybe Darius mistook the initial words of utter shock coming from that spot; but there was no mistaking the second ones.

It all barely got registered in his mind before Jesse had jumped off him as if he was sitting on a spring, his face one of both shock and mild fright, not to mention the fact that he seemed speechless for what maybe were three seconds. Jesse stammered his sister’s name, and Darius could sense the confusion- and was that shame?- in hisvoice. “I- um… I guess I’m gonna go now” he said, quickly grabbing his shirt and putting it on. He stood up and walked by Chelsea, also grabbing his coat on his way out. “Sorry” he said to no one in particular, or maybe  both of them, then walked out the door, not even stopping to close it himself.

Jesse: Jesse didn’t even think when he heard Chelsea’s words, his body went into flight or fight mode and he swiftly moved off Darius so they were now sitting side by side instead of Jesse in his lap. He was pretty sure he said Chelsea’s name somewhere in there, but he kind of zoned out. He didn’t even really register Darius leaving before it was too late. “Darius … wait… fuck,” he groaned, and dropped his head on the back of the couch. He was only wearing sweats, so he fixed himself up and reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head. The weight of the situation started ringing in his head. Chelsea had just walked in. Chelsea had seen… well, not everything thank god. But enough. “You can come back out, he’s gone, and it’s not like we were naked,” he said, unable to keep the slight annoyed tone out of his voice. He stood up and walked over to the door that Darius had left open, looking down the hall to see if - by chance - the other man was still there, but he was long gone. He sighed and shut the door, turning around to see Chelsea standing at her door, “uhh… surprise?”

Chelsea: Chelsea heard Jesse say Darius left so she walked to her door and looked at her brother, “well that was veru unexpected. Thank god you two weren’t fully naked. How long have you two been together?” The brunette walked out of her room and toward her brother. She was still trying to process things. “So did you and Rachel split because you’re into guys?” She asked with some confusion. Chelsea didn’t care that Jesse was gay at all but she was still shocked at what she walked into her.

Jesse: Jesse gave a short laugh. “I think you’ll find Rachel and I split because she was into girls,” he replied dryly. “One in particular. It’s not… I didn’t even really know I liked guys. Well, I guess I did. It’s just. Not that much” He sighed, shaking his head, and walked to sit on the couch, dropping his head into his hands. “ I’m…” He took in a breath, steadying himself, “bi. I’m bisexual. Rachel wasn’t my beard or anything. When I was in college, I fooled around with a couple of guys. Nothing serious, just at parties and stuff. Making out mainly. But then Rachel and I were both in New York and we got back together and it didn’t seem relevant anymore. I just figured it was for fun and in the past and it didn’t matter, because I liked women just as much, if not more at the time. So I didn’t bother saying anything to anyone. And then we got married and that was it. I loved Rachel as much as anybody would have expected of a married couple. But I don’t now, not anymore. And after everything, Darius was a friend. And he got me out of the house, before you moved in. Honestly, I don’t know if I would have moved on without him. But we’re not together, not like that. I wasn’t ready for a relationship so soon after everything and he wasn’t either. We’re just two people sleeping together. But I do like him. And we normally go to his place but I was exhausted tonight and I thought you weren’t meant to be home,” he added, pointedly, “why are you home so early?”

Chelsea: Chelsea listened to her older brother talk and sighed, “No matter who you’re into I will always support you. You’re my brother and I love you no matter what.” When Jesse asked why she was home early she shook her head, “No show tonight so I decided to come home and try to catch up on sleep.” She looked at her brother, “Why weren’t you and Darius in your room doing whatever it was you were doing.” She looked around the apartment and didn’t see her dog and she began to panic, “where’s Sirius?”

Jesse: Jesse sighed, “I know you will. I didn’t not say anything because I was scared… I just wasn’t ready. I don’t think I was still ready, but here we are.” He looked over at Chelsea and raised an eyebrow, “because we were drinking wine on the couch and thought we were going to be alone. Couch, bed, what difference does it make? Trust me, Darius looks good anywhere. Did you see his abs?” He stood up when Chelsea asked about Sirius and walked softly over to his bedroom door, opening it with a quiet creak, hearing Sirius bound off the bed and into the living area. “It’s okay, he’s here. He was fast asleep in my room when I got home, so I just shut the door because I didn’t want to scar him for life. I would have opened it if he barked to come out though.”

Chelsea: Chelsea smiled when she saw Sirius run out of Jesse’s room towards her, “hey baby” she said as she picked up her dog. “He is getting so big so fast” she said as her puppy licked her cheek. “Next time Darius comes over warn me so I can make plans to stay out so you two can have your alone time.” Chelsea walked to her room, “i’m going to change. Order in dinner and binge our favorite show on Netflix?” she asked her older brother. 

Jesse: “Well, he’s nearly - what - five months old now, yeah?” Jesse sighed, and gave a shrug. “I just didn’t realise you were going to be home. He only has his son every second weekend so his place is normally free.” He picked at a loose thread on his trackpants, thinking to himself. It was honestly becoming difficult to just sleep with Darius, he may not have been ready for a relationship in the beginning but he was pretty sure he’d found himself in one… and he also found he wanted to be. But he knew Darius didn’t want that, he’d said no strings too when they first started. And he was worried if he’d brought it up, Darius would probably just freak out. He had Gabriel to think about, the last thing he probably wanted was to be in an actual relationship, even if Jesse was pretty sure they’d been toeing that line for weeks already. Maybe he should take a week, and focus on previews. “Hmm?” He snapped out of his thoughts, and looked up at Chelsea, “oh, that sounds great. But I’ve already eaten, there’s lasagne if you want some? Darius brought it, it’s really good.”

[winged-hussar5643]

A bit of writing

Thought I’d post a bit of writing I’ve been working on, not much else to it.

I was never a fan of being stabbed, it's neither desirable nor particularly pleasant. But I suppose we aren't entitled to controlling every event in our lives, that is left to fate. Though if there is someone out there writing our fates they must have it in for me. These thoughts danced through my mind as I fell to the ground in pain clutching a wound as blood squirted through it but at least they’d had the courtesy to remove the blade albeit further cutting through the flesh. No, it was not a pleasant experience at all but to change the subject for a time I suppose an exclamation is in order detailing how I found myself in this ‘predicament’, one which I will happily provide.

You could stay it started last night. I was sat, half asleep, on a chair after a notably boring day. My sword hung in its scabbard seemingly sharing the boredom with its silverlike blade looking duller than ever. Four others lay around in a similar manner, all occupying themselves with mundane tasks like sharpening weapons and making futile attempts at small talk or just in a similar state to myself. Lucky for you I won't ramble and spread the past boredom, I’ll skip straight to the action. The door flung open and a rather small man with glasses, a neat white shirt and a clean blue tie entered, his name was Gerald. “A group of Orks is on the move over at West End so if you five could be the smallest shed useful intercept them.” and with that, he ran out.

At long last, the saviour from our boredom had arrived and with a wave of excitement I jumped up “You heard the man.” Swords were seethed, pistols holstered and gear donned with a buzz of excitement and relief. In as little as thirty seconds we were out of the doors, maybe a bit too quickly as it slammed into Gerald as he was talking to a colleague.

“Watch it there you idiots, you nearly crumpled my shirt.”

After a rushed apology we were of again. Dragons Keep was a large square semicircle building consisting of four floors which I'll describe the contents of later. We continued on across the marble floor and through the metal stairway doors. Halfway up the stairs, a group walking down the stairs blocked the way so I leapt against the wall and pushed with me feat and arms to launch myself over the railings onto the next floor. One of them looked up.

“In a hurry.”

“Yep.”

One of my companions sighed “He’s mainly just showing off.”  and we continued on.

On the third floor, a roof exit appeared around a corner blocked by a Dragon Guard. The Dragon Guards are the are the elite foot soldiers and guards of Dragons Keep. Unlike the Niht wiga (Night warriors, us) they were clad in heavy, jet black plate armour and wielded halberds Their heads were encased in a helmet similar to the rest of their armour and the only part of the guard's body visible was his eyes through the lifted visor.

The guard saluted “Blade master Aethelwulf, sir, what is the nature of your exit?”

“Just hunting some Orks, ordered by Gerald.”

“The only one who wears a shirt and tie?”

I smirked at the thought “That's the one.”

He chuckled “Alright good luck, sir.”

After the guard pressed a button the door slid into the wall and as we stepped forward the cold air hit me like a soothing breeze.

For a second I felt every action in my body, the stable and deep beating of my heart provided a comforting feeling while the rush of blood ran through my veins. I’ve seen a lot in my time but the beauty of London at night still hit sharply but nestled into a warm feeling. A vast black ocean crashed against the dancing lights of the city, themselves an array of bright beautiful colours. The streets, although quieter, still seemed alive as the hum of traffic and pedestrians echoed in between the metal colossus that were the skyscrapers. The Thames sparkled as the light bounced off it and I saw a ferry glide down its water. A plane flew overhead, its flashing lights preventing the dark night from enveloping it. While zoomed out view it resembled paradise. My sense of awe was abruptly cut short by an annoying voice “You gonna stand here all night? I'm sure we can handle this.”

I looked at him “Good joke.” and started to run.

“Do we even know where in West End they are.” Instead of the annoying one, I’ll call him Jack.

“Yes, their being tracked and are on your map.”

He checked his arm “Someone's in hurry.”

I sped up “Which means we are too.”

We leapt over vents, ducked under pipes and flew between buildings with each landing accompanied by eight thuds from boots. I performed this with a familiarity gained over the years, each movement was seemingly automatic and when combined jumps, rolls and sprints only increased my speed even more. The cold air rushed against me as I pierced through it and the familiar sound added to the comfort and relaxation. I let the darkness that occupied the unlit rooftops envelop me and it filled my body but not in the negative way often associated with it, no the darkness seemed to fill a gap in my soul that I just about felt whenever away from its soft comforting hands. I wrapped myself in it and truly felt at peace, however it suddenly retracted almost painfully as a distant roar echoed through the sky that would normally be swallowed up by the streets below but up here it sailed uninterrupted and although annoyed at being ripped from the comfort I smiled, this would be fun.  Eventually, the residential houses became bright stores covered in billboards and promotions, the quiet streets became bustling commercial centres and the relaxed, calm residents became loud and annoying shoppers. Call me cynical but I found most people in areas like this annoying. However we can’t really let people be massacred by the Orks, it just wouldn't be very chivalrous.

I checked my wrist at half ten just as we came across a taller building that seemed to tower over its dominion, if buildings had a societal structure but I’ll leave out the relevant philosophy in that regard.

I looked backwards “Map says the Orks are near so we'll climb this to have a look.”

This time Ezilda spoke a tad playfully with her almost stereotypical English accent “Lead the way, but be careful with that back of yours.”

I glared at her “Kids”, and leapt onto the building.

The apartment block was covered in a dotted layer of plant pots, window sills and railings. I worked my way up leaping from window to window until a slightly larger gap appeared in between the windows. My gloved hands grasped a railing on top of the window and I crouched down on a plant pot. As I stretched my legs mid jump the plant pot cracked, wobbled a little and snapped off with a painful shriek of metal. It fell through the air forcing Jacob to launch himself from its path before crashing into a thankfully deserted street.

“Oi watch it! You trying to get me killed?”

“I’m saving that satisfaction for later.”

Ezilda looked up “If your done redecorating and arguing there are Orks to kill.” With a sigh, I moved on.

After less than a minute of climbing, we leapt onto the top of the apartment block with ease. The view was similar to that of Dragon’s Keep but lighter due to the commercial buildings. I scanned the sprawling streets until my eyes locked onto a green mass moving over the rooftops. At first, they were just a small green mass but once I pointed them out and looked through my binoculars the mass became the distinguishable forms of Orks. They were a large green humanoid with bulging limbs and massive chests. Their heads were large and hosted an often fierce face with a large tusked mouth. They carried a variety of weapons including axes, hammers and even the occasional jagged sword. The beasts were clothed in furs and animal hides with often carried skulls and bones of defeated those. Some were tattooed with crude red and black patterns or violent depictions. The immense weight landing on rooftops would be loud if not for enchantments from Orc mages, the Orak. I’ll spare you from that grim description for now.

I lowered my binoculars “Well there they are, loud and boisterous as always. It's a wonder they aren't seen or heard enchantment or not.”

“And the people below don’t even know of the great danger that could drop down and slaughter them at any moment, it’s a weird and unsettling thought.”

“But we’re the thing that stops them, and the threat of exposure that would tip ours and everyone else's world upside down. If they find Orks even the great hidden Dwarven and Elven cities won’t be able to hide for long. I can’t even imagine the effects of that.”

Now Delphin spoke, “And we’d all be trapped in the middle of the chaos.”

This was followed by a small silence as simulations played through our minds, the cold, biting wind picked up and blew against us and its animal-like howl was the only nearby sound.

I checked my sword “Well it seems the moods darkened a bit so why don’t we indulge in a bit of Ork hunting.”

And with a smile, we descended the building and returned to the lower rooftops.

[brilliantlyyours]

simon not focusing on a downworlders case with luke cause he’s too busy on the phone with jace!! shitty prompt oops!! lol

guess what

i’m gunNA MAKE IT ANGSTY HAHA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why am I here, again?” Simon whispered to Raphael, who glared at him. They were currently gathered around a table at Magnus’s, along with a representative with each race of downworlder. Magnus himself was here, of course, as was Luke, Raphael, Meliorn, and him, for some reason.

“Because Luke trusts you. Magnus too, but he trusts me as well.” Raphael murmured back and promptly returned to listening to Luke and Meliorn discuss some sort of patrol route. Simon smiled at that. It was nice to hear that Magnus trusted him, but he really would rather be anywhere else,

Like with Jace.

Simon smiles slightly. Surprisingly, since the Institute being taken over by Valentine, he and Jace had grown closer. He was afraid it was the bite at first; Izzy took him to the side one day and told him that it would be perfectly normal to experience some feelings toward Jace after he drunk his blood. And Simon did feel those feelings, that bitter ache in the middle of the night, the inexplicable need to go find Jace right that second and-

But he got over it. Within a week, it was gone. Simon thought he was finally free of that unsettling jump his heart made whenever Jace walked into a room, the way his ears felt hot whenever Jace smiled in that certain way. The way he does whenever he see’s something that makes him happier than he knows what to do with.

But it didn’t go away, even when Jace stumbled into the boathouse one night, groaning about bandages and his place being closer than the Institute. They only grew closer from that night; Jace would drop by unexpectedly, sometimes just to talk. Then they started watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine together, it was just downhill from there.

He would almost dare to call Jace a good friend now. And if he still felt those little butterflies whenever he saw him, well, no one needed to know that but Simon.

He and Jace were supposed to go see a movie tonight; some thriller Jace had been wanting to see. Simon hated scary movies. Ironic, seeing as he was living as one of the things featured in said movies. But Jace had wanted to go so badly, and sometimes Simon thinks there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Jace. 

And of course, there had to be an emergency downworld meeting.

Simon fiddled with the string on his pants for the third time. It kept getting longer every time he messed with it, and he knew he would ruin them if he kept messing with it, but he was so bored.

He nearly cried with relief when his phone buzzed.

It was a text from Jace, Simon realized with a breath. That was another new thing they did; texting each other randomly throughout the day. The almost intimacy of it made him grin. 

‘help’

Simon’s stomach dropped. Jace didn’t have any missions today and he wasn’t going on patrol. He was supposed to be resting; he had been sent on so many missions lately. When Simon canceled on the movie for the meeting, Jace said he was going to catch up on sleep.

Something was wrong. Simon could feel it.

He stood abruptly, his chair screeching back across the floor. He was already calling Jace when Raphael said, “Simon?” A question, but irritated. Raphael probably thought he was trying to get out of being here. The line finally connected, but all he could hear on the other side was harsh breathing. “Jace?” His voice was tinged with panic.

Jace tried to speak, but the world was closing in on him. He should’ve known he’d have a nightmare; he could still feel Valentine’s hands closing around his throat. He’d woken up gasping, clawing at his throat like Valentine was actually on top of him and not in a cell under the Institute. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, and suddenly the covers were tangling around his legs and trapping him…

He lunged off the bed, elbow banging his elbow on his bedside table and knocking his phone off. Jace thought of Simon, bright, beautiful Simon and before he could regret it he was dialing Simon’s number, hoping he wasn’t interrupting the meeting in the back of his mind.

“Jace, what’s wrong? Jace?!” Simon was slowly starting to panic. He could hear Jace on the other line, breath heaving in and out like he was being choked. Every time he tried to talk he let out a choked whimper and Simon knew he was close to hyperventilating.

Magnus touched his arm, concerned. Raphael was looking at him too, gaze hooded. Luke looked more concerned for Simon than Jace. Simon couldn’t blame him; he must’ve made a worrying picture.

“V-val…” Jace whispered. At first, Simon assumed the worst; Valentine had broken out and had stabbed Jace and he was bleeding out, but Jace was still gasping and he sobbed-

Everything snapped into clarity.

“Jace, Jace listen to me. You’re having a panic attack. You’ve gotta breath.” Simon felt himself settle; he knew about panic attacks. He’d had plenty of them, so he knew the procedure to come down from one. He could hear Jace trying to follow his directions, but he just started sobbing. Choked, hurried sobs. He couldn’t calm down.

His voice hitched and he managed to say something. Simon was nearly convinced he was hallucinating.

“Need you.”

If his heart was still beating, it would’ve skipped. Jace was still panicking, but his voice was raw and genuine and when had anyone every needed him like he could hear Jace did now?

“Ok, ok. I’m coming. Don’t worry, I’m on my way right now.” Simon babbled, desperately trying to assure Jace that he wasn’t alone. The worst thing someone could think when having a panic attack was that they were completely alone. He knew from personal experience.

Jace disconnected. Simon shoved his phone into his back pocket, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He looked up at the silent faces staring at him. “I’m sorry-I just-” Raphael, off all people, cut him off. “Go. He needs you.” He said simply. Magnus nodded, flicking his wrist at the door with a little smile.

He didn’t say anything, just sped out of Magnus’s door and went to the Institute.

Jace needed him and, Simon was sure now, he would do anything for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yep i love comforting boyfriends

[mustangtaisa]

Beyond the Veil: Chapter 1

Pairing: RoyxRiza Genre: Fantasy, Angst, Romance Word Count: 1628 Summary: Six months after the Promised Day, two military officers Riza's never seen before show up at Central HQ as if they'd always been there. When no one else questions their presence, Riza brings it to Roy’s attention and they attempt to uncover who these officers are and their possible connections with the recent influx of horrible murders and arson.

This is also on FFNet and AO3.

Chapter 2

--------

A white room. A grinning figure. A price not paid.

A towering gate with an intricate array creaked open and in a flash the room was gone. The grinning, white figure was replaced by a tall man with long, shockingly red hair. Tawny skin stretched over bony cheeks as he sneered, revealing sharpened fangs that glinted in the moonlight. Long, dark horns twisted from his temples. He stepped forward, red and black armor shifting, reflecting the flames that engulfed buildings as he passed.

Fire was nothing new to Riza Hawkeye. She’d almost become desensitized to smoke and flames. No, what horrified her was what was on fire. The east end of Central was burning and, unarmed and alone, she could only watch helplessly as the horned man ignited blaze after blaze with a flick of his wrist.

How another had come to learn flame alchemy baffled her. And she could see no array anywhere on the man or in the vicinity. How, then, was he using flame alchemy? Had he seen the gate, just as Roy and Edward had? The man was not clapping before each transmutation so she quickly ruled that out.

Unless it wasn’t flame alchemy at all?

Riza’s head throbbed suddenly and she ducked into the shadows as the man drew closer, a small army of others behind him, some horned, some with wings, all appearing inhuman. As they marched past her hiding place, the horned man stopped. The rest continued to walk, but he breathed in deeply, smelling the air. Riza crouched further into her hiding place, gritting her teeth against the splitting pain in her skull, fighting the urge to cough as smoke filled her lungs. She couldn’t afford to move. The horned man was feet from her and would surely see her if she was anything but motionless.

All her sniper training kept her still and focused, but it was for nothing. The man slowly turned and his gaze fixated on her, blood red eyes full of mirth and madness.

“I see you, little one,” he spoke, voice a heavy baritone. It sent chills down Riza’s spine. “But you’re too late. This world is mine now.”

His gaze was malicious and she knew she had to run. Panic flared up when she realized she couldn’t move. Her head pounded ruthlessly and she fell over, gripping her head in her hands. The pain left her frozen on the ground and she screamed as a blast of fire came barreling at her.

Her eyes flew open and the streets of Central were gone. She was sitting upright in her bed, breathing heavy and erratic. Hayate whined from his place on the floor near her.

A dream. It had only been a dream? It felt so real. She was used to dreaming of homunculi and Father after the events of the Promised Day, even at six months after the whole ordeal. But this was different. Somehow, she knew the people she saw were not homunculi. They were something else. Something that was somehow more sinister, more terrifying.

Riza took a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart and noticed Hayate watching her with worry. She sighed and smiled at him, patting the bed next her. The dog jumped up and nestled in the blankets at her side.

“Good boy,” she murmured, scratching him behind the ears.

Sun filtered in through a space in her curtains and a quick glance at her alarm clock told her it was almost time for her to get up anyway, so with one last pat on Hayate’s head, she pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, yawning and stretching, ready to put the dream behind her and get ready for the day.

----------

Roy sauntered into the office earlier than usual that morning. It was an important day for his team and him. It was the day Fuhrer Grumman would give them the details of their assignment in Ishval. If everything went according to plan, Team Mustang would be stationed in Ishval in a matter of months in order to rebuild what they had destroyed years ago. It was finally happening. They were finally moving forward. Roy might not have been Fuhrer yet, but with his new rank of Brigadier General and Grumman supporting his ideas, it was only a matter of time. And rebuilding Ishval was a step in the right direction toward some kind of redemption.

He was mildly surprise to see Riza at her desk, alone in the office, already diligently working, a steaming mug of tea next to her paperwork.

“Captain. Good morning! You’re here earlier than usual.”

Riza looked up, seeming almost startled that he was there. Like she hadn’t heard him enter the office. Roy furrowed his brow. It was unlike Riza to be so distracted, even if she was working.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied. “What are you doing here so early?”

There was something off in her demeanor, the way she spoke, and he caught the subtle differences immediately.

“Big day,” he answered absently, waving the question off. “More importantly, is everything okay?”

“Of course, sir.” Riza’s reply was quick. Automatic. Forced.  “As you said, it’s a big day.”

Roy was unconvinced, but he nodded and passed her to sit at his desk. If she didn’t want to talk about what was troubling her, he wouldn’t press the subject. She’d tell him when she wanted to.

They worked in silence for over an hour before the rest of the team filed in and soon the office was a buzz of chatter as the team discussed the new assignment that would be waiting for them in just a few months. There was still something bothering Riza and though he laughed and talked to his men as if it were any normal day, Roy kept his eye on his most precious subordinate. Her behavior was only slightly off. Any normal person wouldn’t even notice a difference. But Roy Mustang was not just any normal person. He knew her better than anyone.

“Captain,” Roy spoke up late that morning. “I need to speak with you in my office, please.”

Riza looked up, a questioning look on her face as she nodded and stood to follow Roy into his interior office. She closed the door behind her and faced Roy who stood leaning against the front of his desk, arms crossed, concerned gaze scrutinizing her carefully.

“I know I asked you this morning, but are you sure everything’s all right? You seem… distracted today.”

Riza’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure.

“I… It’s nothing, sir. I had an… odd dream last night and it’s been on my mind. Nothing I can’t handle myself.”

Roy frowned. He opened his mouth to respond, but a knock on the door interrupted him. He sighed heavily.

“What?!”

“We’ve got investigation duty,” Havoc’s voice came, muffled through the closed door. “There was a fire in the east part of the city last night and no one can figure out who or what caused it.”

Roy groaned and went to reply to Havoc, catching an odd look cross Riza’s features that worried him even more than before.

“Head over there. We’ll follow you shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Havoc’s footsteps receded and the team left the office, the door slamming behind them.

“What was with that reaction, Captain?”

Eyes wide, Riza looked up at Roy. She seemed astonished, like Havoc had just delivered the worst news of her life.

“My dream,” she breathed. “I dreamt that someone was burning the east side of Central last night.”

Roy paused in the middle of putting on his coat, turning to her with narrowed eyes.

“I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.”

Riza nodded, not quite believing him as they left the office.

Roy was trying to reassure her. Logically, there was no way her dream could have been relaying actual events from that night. But when they arrived at the scene, the evidence was hard to dispute. The exact block and buildings that the horned man burned in her dream were charred and ruined before her eyes.

Roy caught her gaze while he was questioning another officer. The unspoken terror behind her eyes was enough to make him nearly push past the man he was listening to and run to her side. He held back, biting his tongue as the investigations officer finished his report. Talking to her would have to wait until they were finished.

Returning his attention to the man in front of him, Roy nodded, as if he’d been listening the entire time.

“Do we have any suspects yet?”

The younger officer shook his head.

“No, sir. We’ve been at it for hours and there are no leads yet.”

“Keep me posted. If this isn’t just an accident, we need to catch whoever did this before they strike again.”

“Yes, sir!”

The young officer saluted and hurried off to resume his investigations duties. Roy was finally able to make his way back over to Riza and he stopped at her side, looking around in a nonchalant manner as he spoke to her in a quiet voice.

“You still seem troubled.”

“This was the exact place that was burned in my dream.”

Disbelief flashed across Roy’s face and his head snapped to look at her.

“We’ll discuss this later. Wait in the car for now. You look pale.”

“No, I… ah... “ Roy glared and her and she sighed. “Yes, sir.”

She gave a half hearted salute and walked back to his car to wait for him and collect her jumbled thoughts. It was supposed to have been a good day, a positive day, but instead it took a turn for the strange and unsettling.

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

Hey everyone, thanks for reading! This story is a crossover between FMAB and my original novel, Grim Aria. I know I haven't finished Through Eyes of Flame yet, but this idea has been stewing in my mind for the past few months and with the release of the prologue to my novel just a couple of days ago, I really wanted to start writing this. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Comments are always loved and appreciated!

[helstrome]

Be Mine

She couldn’t keep herself still even after she took a seat at one of the park’s bench near the fountain. The wind blew a little stronger than the last few days, the temperature felt like it had dropped a few degrees too. It was still a nice afternoon anyway, she was glad she came prepared with a long coat and turtleneck despite having to deal with the cold breeze slapping her legs since she wore a short skirt. Honestly, it took her more than an hour just to decide what she was going to wear. Her room was still messy and looked like someone had dropped a crate of clothing from the sky, it exploded everywhere. Some shirts even made their way to the kitchen island, she didn’t know how. She was too nervous to pay attention.

He said he was going to meet her in the afternoon at 6. She arrived ten minutes before, she decided it would be better to wait than having her hair sticking out unflatteringly to different directions because of the wind. Her stomach felt uneasy, her palms were sweaty and she had to resist the urge of biting her nails. If it was other times, she would have enjoyed taking a moment to look at the surroundings, considering she liked nice and open spaces such as these, but this time was an exception. She didn’t want to make any assumption for his sudden invitation. Jaehyun never asked her to go out alone, not even once. Whenever they hung out, it would always be together with Youngho or Yuta in tow, but she was secretly glad because they both talk quite a lot so she didn’t have to struggle so much to hide her overwhelming feelings toward him. But something told her this day would be different somehow, yet she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

She had been spending almost a year of her life harboring a crush over the most attractive, talented and popular guy in college, Jung Jaehyun. It was just her luck (or curse) that he happened to be a friend of her friend, Youngho. They started hanging out, together with their other friend too, Yuta. It would be the four of them everywhere they went out. Jaehyun and Youngho were the ones with the same major, she and Yuta had different ones but Yuta came over to Youngho’s place a lot so there were plenty of times when she was not present and naturally, the boys grew closer and soon became inseparable like dumb and dumber… With one mean stepmom, which was Yuta, of course.

She didn’t know exactly when she began developing feelings towards Jaehyun, but she got to admit that from the first day he already caught her attention. There were things about him that just felt paradoxical. His serious face was enough to make people thought twice about his real personality, he liked to keep a straight and cold face whenever he wandered around the campus alone. He didn’t talk much to others, only when needed and necessary. People avoided him because of his intimidating stance. What they didn’t know, of course, was how he would turn into this big fat dork whenever he was with them. All the little things that made her fell deeper and deeper into his charms. The way his eyes curved adorably into two crescent moons when he smiled. The way his hidden dimples on both of his cheeks showed up only when he grinned widely. The way his head was thrown back in laughter like a little kid when he got too excited and couldn’t contain himself.

She didn't dare to let her feelings showed because she would never hear the end of it if Youngho and Yuta knew. Moreover, if Jaehyun knew. It would be the end of the world for her. She tried hard to act normal all the time. It could be said that the guys were rather insensitive and oblivious, so everything went pretty smoothly in case of keeping a secret to herself. But unfortunately, it meant that nothing ever happened beside normal interactions from a friend to another. Jaehyun never did anything more that ruffling her hair or patting her in the shoulder, the same things that Youngho and Yuta did to her. Youngho was even slightly touchier, because he was known to be handsy, everyone knew that. There was zero sign that Jaehyun might feel the same thing as she did, and she didn’t want to ruin her friendship with the three boys she grew very fond of too. So she kept quiet.

Finally, after what felt like a thousand years, and her nose started to itch from the coldness, the sound of footsteps could be heard coming from behind her. It took everything she had in her to resist the temptation of turning her head around. She glanced down to the ground instead, hoping her hair would be able to hide the redness that she could feel started creeping to her cheeks from the bloodrush. The sound was getting louder, and her cheeks felt a little hotter. A pair of black sneakers stopped right in front of her own white ones.

“Hey.”

She looked up and there he was, never once failed to make the world stopped around her. His eyes, filled with that glint of playfulness behind. His lips, pink and plump, she always wondered if it feels as soft as it looked. His hair, she didn’t know how he managed to make it fluffy and styled just right all the time. His very pale skin, didn’t make him any less attractive but rather complimented everything. Jung Jaehyun was strikingly handsome, no one would doubt her on that for sure.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Praise the lord she was still able to break out of her daze and didn’t humiliate herself further.

“Oh, hi.” That was all she could muster and even her voice sounded more like a squeak. It was so awkward when they were alone.

He chuckled, his eyes wandering from her eyes down to her feet, and back up again. “You look very cute today.”

She didn’t know how to answer to that.

“I’m kidding, you look cute every day.” He continued, extending his right hand towards her. “Let’s take a walk.”

If her heart was going to keep beating at this rate, it would jump out of her chest any second. She didn’t have any other choice but to take his hand. His lips formed a cute grin and he squeezed her hand assuringly, letting it fall between their bodies as they took a stroll around the park. She wasn’t even sure if she really woke up from her sleep this morning or she was still inside the greatest dream of her life that she wouldn’t want to wake up from.

The sun was going to set and the weather got a bit colder by the minute, so the park grew quieter as people started to left, probably seeking for a warmer place indoor. His hand felt warm around hers, his thumb drawing random circles on it. She swallowed the lump in her throat and attempted to strike a conversation. The silence was unsettling, on top of the hand-holding that was far from anything that had ever happened between them.

“Where is Youngho and Yuta? They left you alone so you resorted for help to me?” She muttered. “Do you need to find something?”

He looked down at her mockingly. “Did you just assume you’re my third choice after Youngho and Yuta rejected me?”

She bit down on her bottom lip at his answer, glaring at him from under my lashes. “It just feels weird that it’s only the two of us. It’s quiet.”

He snorted. “I told them to stay out of my personal space today, it’s getting cramped.” He rolled his eyes at his own joke, but he continued. “I need the peace for an important talk.”

She slightly frowned at his answer, but didn’t push further. Her nervousness still got the best of her, eating her from the insides. She didn’t want to think about the possibilities of him asking her to meet, what if her wishes was wrong and she ended up drowning in disappointment because of her own foolish conclusion. That wouldn’t be funny.

Then it was silent again. She didn’t know what to do, and she ran out of ideas about what to say. She stole a glance to his direction, his face looked content and a satisfied smile was playing on his lips, his dimples on full display. It seemed like he wouldn’t start speaking soon, and she grew more anxious with that. If the wind wasn’t making whistling sounds and it didn’t make the leaves rustling away on the pavement, she was absolutely sure he would be able to hear the sound of her thoughts buzzing inside her brain, struggling to find anything to fill the suffocating silence.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She stopped in her tracks. Her hand slipped away, and she already missed the enveloping warmth of his big hand.

He turned his head around and tilted his head, looking at her questioningly. “What’s wrong?”

“You said you wanted to talk about something, Jaehyun, but why aren’t you speaking?” She let out in a single breath. His eyes widened for a second before a smirk found its way to his lips, his eyebrow lifted.

“Impatient, aren’t we? I was going to seat us there.” He nodded to a bench beneath the bright yellow lamp post behind, just a few metres left. She knew very well she looked flustered and her face could resemble a tomato because it was so embarrassing. She wanted to crawl inside a hole and never be seen again.

He laughed again, his voice chiming through the night air like a ringing bell. She could spent her days looking at the way his eyes closed and crinkled adorably whenever he laughed and never got bored for the rest of her life.

“Let’s go!” His hand once again found its way to tangle with hers, pulling her forward to follow his walk in a fast pace, she had to jog a little. He seated himself and tugged her down next to him.

The view was stunning. Somehow the trees covered the bottom part of the skyscrapers, hiding the busy and crowded street underneath, leaving only the tall, towering upper part of the buildings, the light twinkled from hundreds of windows resembling a sea of stars. City lights were always a pretty sight to behold. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling herself started to calm down from all the feelings that had been making a hurricane inside her body.

“You know,” he suddenly spoke, squeezing her hand lightly. “I know this is very sudden and it may appear to you that I never tried to approach you this way before even though we had known each other for almost a year now. But I can’t hold it in anymore, I wanted this for such a long time already.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. His gaze was piercing right through her own.

Thump. Thump.

Great, she calmed down from the high and now it was beating a hundred miles an hour again and again.

“All these time I was keeping a safe distance, I thought it was enough just to befriend you. Then I don’t know when it started or how but you slip inside my mind more often than any other thoughts. Whenever my mind wander, it will always lead me back to you. I receive so much happiness just being able to see you laugh at Youngho’s crappy jokes, or making funny faces in attempt to match Yuta’s deadly glare. I don’t know what magic is in there, maybe in the way you drink your hot chocolate at our favorite cafe or how you always spare a weekend every two weeks to volunteer at the kids centre. Maybe it’s what is in the surface or deeper, but you are very special to me. One day, I started to get bothered whenever Youngho puts his arms around you, or when Yuta ruffled your hair. They are my friends, I know, but I can’t help feeling that way. That was when I decided I need to do something about it. I like being with you, I like knowing you will be there for me if I need you, that you will put me first before anyone else. I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. I want you.”

Huh. What did he just say? It was impossible. He never saw her as more than a friend of his, he never did anything beyond the friend line. That was all just a dream, wasn’t it? A very nice one.

He lowered his head towards her direction and the lips that had been floating around her mind for days with no end finally landed on top of her own, just as soft as she thought it was going to be, and felt even more amazing than her wildest imagination.

“Be mine, would you?”

[egosofipliers]

hello? do you do requests?... well if so could you do a fic where Dark,Host or Bim get turned into cats?

( First off thank you so much you have no idea how happy I am to get this! Yes I accept anything! Asks, Requests, headcannons, Anything!  Secondly if this is bad or something is missing from this I am SO sorry, I had written out the story once and was about to post AND I BACKSPACED OUT OF IT AND LOST EVERYTHING!!! I’m so Sorry I tried to write it all out again as quickly as possible but… If I missed something I’m sorry I know I ended up editing a lot of things cause I couldn’t remember what I originally wrote but I did my best!)

Everything had been fine when the egos had went to sleep the night before but yet when they woke up Dark’s void had spread through the whole building leaving everyone to wonder what in the world was going on. To their knowledge the couldn’t think of a single thing that would cause Dark to be having a tantrum like this first thing in the morning but they knew they couldn’t just leave it like this and quickly dispatched Search to find out the problem

The blue android soon found themself outside the door to Dark’s room, they had already knocked once and the fact that they had been met with silence and the buzz of the unsettling void was more than a little unnerving, even for a google. There had not even been an object thrown at the door telling them Dark was ready to murder anything that walked in. Search was left on their own to slowly open the door and and scan inside.They had missed it on the first look around the room but as something tried to dart out passed him Search had grabbed it by the scruff of it’s neck and pulled it up to their face.

A small sleek black kitten was hissing and spitting at the blue android as Dark’s void seemed to twist and curl around their arm trying to pull the life right out of it.  Search didn’t want to instantly fill in the blanks and say that this kitten was Dark but as they scanned the room one more it seemed to confirm that to in fact be the truth and as such Search had no more use to linger in this room and quickly moved to turn around and move back down to the kitchen to where the other egos had gathered to see what the hell was going on.

The Host had been the first to notice snorting as Search walked into the room and after a quiet whisper to the Author a laugh soon followed as the half faded ego made his way over to Google and the kitten.

“Well look at that Mister Doom And Gloom now. Got yourself turned into a little kitten, Not so tough now are you?” the Author smirked as the kitten hissed loudly proving to everyone in that instance that this was in fact Dark. There was a sudden commosion as everyone tried to make a grab for the kitten wanting to know how the hell this had happened

Doctor iplier had quickly grabbed  Dark out of the Author’s hand as he fired off questions. He wanted to know if Dark could still talk, did he have control over his new appendages? If it hadn’t been for Ed Edger swiping the kitten away from him there would have been no mistake that the Doctor had intended to whisk Dark away to his room to try and experiment on what this change had meant for the odd physiological makeup that Dark had already presented.

Ed had barely gotten to ask Dark if he would disclose the secret to how he had managed to do this and his own need for the ability to turn humans into animals before Silver had snatched him up. From there it was just one ego after another  grabbing and roughly pulling Dark around like a ragdoll before Wilfred got hold of him. In an instant he was launched up into the air before the Pink Mustached ego twirled away.

In that split second Dark though he was going to die again before someone had caught him. His claws dug in quickly to the suited arm he was against, his fur bristling as he gave off a low growl eyes moving to catch the ones of his savoir one Bim Trimmer.

Bim had jumped slightly as he yelped feeling the other’s claws tearing through his suit and into his arm his instant thought had been to try and get the thing off as quickly as possible but he stopped himself. If he had been thrown around like a bag of Potatoes he would probably have acted the exact same way. The show host let out a slow breath before slowly moving his hand to pet through Dark’s fur, he wasn’t the biggest fan of cats but the way the others had been acting was hardly acceptable. His eyes slowly glanced up from Dark’s glaring at everyone in the room daring them to try and pull that stunt again.

It wasn’t until he heard a dull purr from the kitten did he let himself relax. The void that had been thickening in the air of the kitchen was starting to dissipate and he could not be anymore relieved but that left a whole new problem. He had been so insistent that all the other egos needed to back off that now that everything had started to calm no one wanted to take Dark from him.

So Bim had no choice he had now become the less the pleased owner of Darkiplier Kitten and no amount of protests about his dislike of cats or the fur on his suit was going to change it. That being said Bim was not at all the kind of person ready to handle a pet and he had to admit he did completely forget to feed the kitten right up until the point when a smooth voice sounded in his head threatening to kill him if he didn’t feed Dark this instant. Past that one instance though things seemed to go by smoothly and by night fall whatever had caused Dark’s cat like state had worn off.

Dark was left as a more than slightly exposed version of his original form and was quick to put his refound authority to use in confiscating a suit from the show host. He was last seen leaving Bim’s room in a borrowed suit void threatening to lash out at anyone who even dared look at him for too long. No one dares to bring it up even to this day though oddly enough Bim sometimes get’s this strange urge to run his hands through Dark’s hair though he has yet to act on it.

[phthalology]

Destiny: Formless and Form

“He poisoned himself?” Two times Eris and Toland needed to talk about the weapons they built together. Eris/Toland hurt/comfort, ~5k. 

   Every morning, she remembered Crota. The Hive were her second or third thought, and the first were all impressions: the cold coming in through her woven blanket, the yellow light and blue sky outside the Tower. Eris Morn did not want to move, but she heard a Ghost buzz around her, and turned over to press her face against the cot.

    “What?” she muttered.     “You’re needed in the City,” the Ghost said with concern.     “Why?”’     “Please. It is important. Please attend.”     Eris dragged her arm from underneath herself and rubbed at her bleary eyes while she reached her other hand toward the Ghost. She found it just as she sat up, her fingers fitting comfortably around the flanges. The Ghost buzzed slightly as she held it, in the same kind of mock affront she had seen cats perform. She swung her legs off the cot and held the Ghost to her chest, grounding herself with its buzzing for a moment before opening her eyes.     The Ghost was pale green, with a chipped flange, and her own Ghost was sitting on her low bedside table with its light lit.     “Ampilyne,” Eris whispered, and let go. The Ghost darted out of her hands almost as fast as she had moved her fingers. “Sorry. Sorry!”

    “Some people would have screamed,” said Toland’s Ghost.     “Then they would not have had as much composure as you,” Eris’ Ghost said to the other, then turned to Eris. “We should probably go. If one of your teammates calls, it’s important.”         If Toland calls, it’s probably a puzzle difficult to work out. As she stared at her Ghost in tired disbelief, though, she couldn’t help but feel that the small, glowing eye saw through her skepticism to her intrigue. Ampilyne hovered, making occasional nervous jumps. Toland had been with her team for long enough now that he felt like a part of it, if one who balanced his usefulness with the burdensome fact of his cryptic and irritable personality. She had spent a lot of time scoffing privately about him - about his words, about the strange machinery he carried, about the blind grace of his always-gloved hands.

  She raised an incredulous eyebrow at her Ghost.     “It is Ampilyne, though. You know how it is.” The Ghost did not sound certain. Although she would have had to hunt for years to find the reason for such a hunch, she was also almost certain it was gently mocking her.     Eris threw the blanket over her shoulder and went toe-to-nonexistent-toe with Ampilyne, who buzzed slightly away. As soon as she thought about holding Ampilyne she felt her cheeks heat up. Toland was known for recording his own frenzied studies, Eriana’s more measured research, and the team’s idle conversation. For what reason of pique or posterity, Eris did not know.         Maybe he had scried this.         Ampilyne said again, “You’re needed in the city.”     Eris shut her eyes, shook her head and wondered what Eriana would be working on right now, and what could possibly have gone wrong. Corrupted weapons? Thrall in the City? The fear was more familiar than Toland’s Ghost.     She shooed Ampilyne out the door and began to dress, trying to soothe her mind of the ever-present idea of Crota.

                                           ______________________

   Eriana was pacing in the book-crowded flat when Eris arrived, her guns and her Ghost hidden under her moss-green cloak. The energy of the Sun moved gently around her, stirred up but not aflame. Ampilyne had taken his own path, and Eriana reacted to him first.     She watched the Ghost buzz around the front room, her eye lights bright and narrow. Her voice was clipped, stressed, and Eris drew herself up under her cloak, unsure whether Eriana needed a staunch soldier or a sympathetic friend.     “I’m glad the Ghost found you,” Eriana said. “Toland has poisoned himself with some smithing ritual and needs the antidote.”     “His Ghost can’t …”     Eriana and Ampilyne dimmed their lights at the same time. Eriana moved toward the door, one hand hovering, calm, near her sidearm. “It needs to be a Warlock who undoes the wards at his hangar, and I know the instructions.”     Eris wanted to ask why she of all people had been called, but she thought she knew - she was not as competitive as Omar or impatient as Tarlowe or as suspicious of Toland as Sai. A bit suspicious, yes, but she was good at hiding her distrust. Naked distrust wasn’t a useful thing to display in front of its object in this particular case.     Eris nodded. “What else do I need to know?”     “Toland will keep to himself. Make sure no one we don't know comes in while he’s … like this.”     “He poisoned himself?”     Eriana ran her hand over her forehead. “That’s how he explained it, anyway, with that condescending tone like he’s telling a half-truth for the sake of simplicity.”     Behind Eriana, Ampilyne disappeared through the closed door in the back wall. Maybe Eris would just sit in the front room until Eriana came back.     For the first time, Eriana focused and met Eris’s eyes. She gripped the Hunter’s shoulder, the Sun stirring Eris’s hair. “You’ll be okay, right?”     “Yes,” Eris said, and meant it. She had half-expected to be flying to the moon right now, unprepared and half-armored, so staying in the flat felt like a pleasant if momentary respite.     Eriana swept out the door, radiating.     Eris sat on the sagging couch.     How many times had she sat here, with her fireteam surrounding her? On some days, the place felt like a mustering hall, or like a target. If Crota attacked the City, Eris’s most horrible and most selfish fears said, he would rain green fire down on this spot first. The Vanguard, too, would turn a bright and dangerous eye on the fireteam if they knew that Eriana planned to breach the Hive-pit. Now, though, the flat felt more like a shelter than a bull’s-eye. Although she knew that it was a fickle thought, part of her mind was telling her still-groggy body that Crota couldn’t get her here.     She spent a few minutes looking at her feet, then pulling books off the shelves with unnecessary violence. Scraps of words on dusty pages seemed hugely significant to her life at this very moment, even if they had nothing to do with it: Brown lichen grows on the sunward facing side of cliffs in the taiga. Another book: The universe’s way of pursuing equilibrium. Another: In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing / Over the tumbled graves, around the chapel.

Maybe it was because of these, or because of the faint traces of the Sun-Light which had not left when Eriana did, that she went to the door in the back and didn’t knock. Instead she pushed the door open the width of her foot and said “Hmm?”     The room spelled like potting soil. Eris remembered, from the last time that Toland had sat in there and shouted out instead of joining the team around the couch, that the exile had commandeered a desk and the bed, which was allegedly available to any member of the team who wanted to stay the night and was willing to remove Toland to the couch in order to do it.     In the days since she had last seen him, Toland must have moved more of his belongings into the room. Bundles of plants, some dry and brown and some alive and looping around twine, hung from rusting loops of metal screwed into the ceiling. A potted plant on the desk had climbed up the twine to the ceiling, crawling half way across the ceiling of the narrow room.     There had always been books and maps piled in the shelves on the desk. Now there was a gun, too, a rifle with garish purple paint and workmanlike lines. There were vertebra and cords scattered around it, and now Eris noticed that there were bones threaded into the makeshift arbor too, bird skulls and what might be keel bones.         Toland said “Hmm?” back at her, trailing off in exaggerated despair, and Eris opened the door the rest of the way out of irritation. She had to see what had merited such self-pity.     Toland was covered in both of the apartment’s woven quilts. He still wore his black cloak; Eris could tell because he had kicked one leg out from under the blankets at some point, showing a corner of the cloak and a bare, bony foot. She stood with her back to the desk as if it was a bunker she could retreat to.     Physically, Toland did not look more ill than usual. Pale and high-cheeked, he was always a bit of a death’s head. The dark bruises under heavy-lidded green eyes were not unusual either. The Light, though.         His presence usually felt strange, threaded through with some withheld rottenness, but now his Light was dim, as if he was hardly in the room at all. She had to blink her eyes to be sure. Would he have a pulse, now? Ampilyne materialized near his right shoulder.     “You did this to yourself,” Eris muttered, certain.     Toland leaned back to show her his throat, and she could not tell whether he was in pain or luxuriating in the attention. Her own ambivalence to the difference disgusted and unsettled her. “Such experiments have been conducted before. Light-sickness.”     “No wonder.” She looked at the hanging plants, the picked-clean bones. “What will cure you?”     “At the hangar I have herbs and artifacts. The noble Eriana has gone questing for them.”     Eris appreciated that Toland hadn’t implied that he’d ordered Eriana to go.     The Light flowed around him in thin rivulets, from the cot to the desk to the hanging plants. Toland pulled his foot back under the blankets. Eris knew Arc light best, and felt Toland’s Sun as a power less refined than Eriana’s. Instead of warming, it burned and gathered in strange coronae.     He must have felt her inquiry, or wanted to fill the silence that had grown while she had kept her eyes on the desk while her mind explored. “My Light isn’t gone. You’re walking all around it.”     She flinched, a bodily reaction she had not expected and immediately wanted to separate herself from. She’d never felt Light like this before, though, and the idea of walking within its strange orbit was like an unexplored road - there might be danger there, but she was prepared for it. Would there be any value in telling him that she was curious about it?     “Were you using it for that project?”     “Yes.”     “A scout rifle?”     “A pulse rifle, although the body is not as important as …” He coughed in thick, dry barks. When he spoke next it was in a quiet rasp. Eris moved closer to hear. Her own legs felt weak, so that it was comforting to sit with her legs crossed, her knees brushing the mattress, while Toland turned his back to her.     “The Light,” he said.     “So that’s what wounded you.” As soon as she knew, the lines of Light became more vivid. The gun was still pulling at him. He had brought the plants in to serve as a smoke screen, or as an unwitting sacrifice, to distract whatever black hole of Light he had concocted from the life around it. They would die for his plans. She sent her own Light sliding along the lines, mapping the frayed connections. At the gun it weakened, sparking against Darkness and a small, dense core of potential and hope. There at the core of the half-made gun was something like a perpetual motion machine, a knot of precariously balanced Light in Darkness. Her vision gently blurred as she focused on the ribbons of Light, on the small plants, on what she could do to mend the frayed lines.     Toland turned onto his back and looked at her. “The antidote will restore that energy,” he muttered, but he was also only paying attention to his Light-sense, his eyes and his voice unfocused.     The dark knot was drawing more and more of Eris’s attention. There were paths to walk there, caves unexplored, dark, smooth places like nests in which to sleep.     “I do not need … ” Toland was saying, but Eris had already figured out where she could string Light between his tattered web and heal some of the troubled air of the room. Ampilyne and her Ghost floated in curious, concerned orbits around the desk, but she did not heed them.     Toland sat up, got his legs under him and crouched as if to stand and move toward the desk. His presence in the web only increased Eris’ understanding of it, so that when she gestured him down her perception of the world moved even further away, the Tower and the City and the hanging vines all equally distant and equally intimate, all part of the web of the Light. She kept putting puzzle pieces together, shocking life into the tiny ash-lines of his dying Light. A breeze rustled the hanging vines and sparked.     The Light eddied more carefully around the gun now, more willing to look into its skull-eyes. Healthier, Eris thought, although she too had contributed to pulling life from a living thing to a dead thing.     “You could have brought me some water,” he said, “instead of interfering in the delicate machinery of this web that I have woven.”     Exhausted but happy, Eris gestured disinterest.     Toland tried to stand. Either his knees were weak or he was dizzy; either one felt like the natural state of the world right now, as if Eris was surrounded by the fog of the sickness herself. Toland sank back sideways on the cot and Eris reached out to touch his shoulders, so that it was natural for him to lean back against her and rest his head on the field-cloth just above her armored knee. The two Ghosts circled.     “This isn’t for your records,” Eris muttered, some memory of the reality of her team’s foibles coming back.       Toland scratched uselessly at the pillow a few times before finally grasping the top and plopping it in front of Ampilyne. The Ghost chirped a few times, then alighted and sat still. If Toland was concerned for Eris’ Ghost, he didn’t say it.     Instead, he shut his eyes and swept his weak and aging Light toward the gun. “The gun drives itself. I have placed a bit of living Darkness inside, and when it is complete it will not fail its wielder even in the darkest of places. I sacrifice this Light for that alone, Eris.”     “For that alone?”     “And because the weapons of the Darkness have things to teach us. Do you expend yourself for this task as well? It is honorable work with a dishonorable mask. How sharp are Hunter eyes, to see through it!”     Was that what she had done? Seen brightness in the core of the dark? No. “You can’t help us when you’re this weak.”     “No. But this is a temporary strife.” He sat up again and scratched at the back of his neck, then lay down again on the bare cot next to the Ghost. “Eriana will return. And that …” A shake of his head toward the bones lashed to the gun on the desk. “Is ours. We have built something together now, no matter how … accidental your contributions.”     “Will they be able to tell?”     “Will Eriana suss out your interference? I don’t think so. She knows exactly what I do here. I do not think she’ll bend close enough to smell you on it.”     She didn’t regret giving him her Light, she thought with thrilling terror. She could quicker imagine him owing her than him betraying the team. She could quicker imagine him thanking her, and reaching out to touch her hair. Maybe there would be other projects, other twinings of Light and Light in the miasma of Darkness which she was now beginning to feel again was not in all the City but just in this room, piled like blankets.     Eris stood and fled.     Until Eriana returned she sat on the couch with her legs under her and read a history of the City, reminding herself of the many things people had survived in the dark times before her dark times, interrogating the City’s biases, watching its business-owners squabble in the pages over maps and boundary lines.

                                               ___________________

   Years later, Eris and Toland had both given more in the service of the Light and more to the loyalty of one another. Years later she would not hesitate to help him, but it was a more confident and more measured help. He was a ghost and she was dying, scarred by her own hands and by the pit from which they both escaped. He was a ghost and he knew, through some other sense, that some other Ghost was working on Bad Juju without a by-your-leave.     “Ornaments?"     “A new invention. Drawn from the Iron Lords, I believe, and their legacy of snow and skins."     Toland tisked, a sound which Eris found unaccountably funny when it came from the incorporeal pillar of fog standing in her room.    Toland had gotten his wish, had fallen and torn himself open on the sharp edge of the universe and survived with the burn-blast scars of it. He was ghostly when the Light burned and more comprehensible at night, when the Guardians' own burning was dulled by sleep or distance. Toland was the antithesis of a moth to a flame, despite his admiration for the Hive’s dusty and scaled majesty.     And so he visited, pretending with exaggerated dignity not to concern himself with whether Eris was there or not.     Tonight she had retired early, and tonight she had retired angry - hurt by the mutterings of Guardians who had not visited her, who scoffed with ignorance. (Toland scoffed with knowledge, and was there a difference in the tone, the sibilance? People in the Tower still were warm to her - she spoke to Amanda or Ikora or the several Guardians with whom she had gained a rapport. Almost three years from the Hellmouth, though, and people forgot. People imagined that she tore at her own skin so as not to forget her wounds, so as not to come unawares again upon the same terror that had first made them. An insistence on progress, though, did not always include a denial of history, and the Guardians had begun to forget that the Hive were more than crowds of thralls with which to collect on small-coin bounties.     So when she asked, “What do you want?” of the pillar of Darkness, she only half needed an answer.     Toland’s face was a mess: now eyes, now dark fog like scribbles on a map, now skin like he had worn in the safe house. “Only time.”     Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, like a word floating in the Dark with its own weight. All of them had wanted more time. Eriana especially had clawed for it, had dragged until the dirt of it clotted thick between the joints of her fingers. Eriana had demanded that Crota give the Earth more time, and then that the very flow of time in his world change.     “We never had enough time,” Eris said. “Now, I cast my mind to space more often.”     Toland gave a small nod. The little bit of clarity showed on his face, made him a creature corporeal enough to have to step across the white floor. “That is an answer almost as true as the other. Consider the throne worlds. Each is connected to each by a portal, but each is ascendent in the same way, the same energy flowing to them, the same … sit down. There. There.”     She crossed her legs in the middle of the floor.     She thought that he might have been going to use her as the centerpiece of a diagram, as the gravitational center of some strange system, but instead he took up the rest of the room and seemed to ignore her physical presence, ranging around her in widening circles.     “Savathûn, queen of spaces, watches each to each with eyes that flay the language she witnesses.”     “She cannot hear you here.”     “No. No.” His voice had gone soft, like the dripping of water in a far-away cave. The fervor of his  call bled off him like the smoke, leaving him human-shaped and cold, with Eris’ eyes. “The courts turn their backs, sometimes, and have learned to armor their soft places.”     So, he felt that he was being ignored.     “Come here,” Eris said.     His silence was full of questions; she could tell from the way he tipped his head, from the brightening of one bulbous eye. After a requisite moment of consideration he circled her again, his feet clicking softly as if his smoking boots were real gear instead of some strange mix of Darkness and manifested flesh.     He crouched in front of her, skeptical, bending close enough that she felt her heart jump. “What do you want, my dearest Eris?”

She reached for his collar. The tattered facsimile of a Warlock cloak was fibrous and solid, or at least deigned to be that way while she pulled a handful toward her. He lurched closer but did not fall and did not touch her. No breath, no movement of his chest under the thick fabric, no smell from his scornful mouth.     “Do you remember the day you were sick?” Eris said. “Do you remember what you put yourself through for that gun?”     He drew away, keeping his gaze locked to her even while he turned over and suddenly lay down on her skirt, snugging the top of his head against her stomach. She looked down on him in awe and startlement. Her vision almost blurred as he moved, but she drew herself back, her skin prickling, while he grinned.     “I thought you wanted me to be a the gaps in your lost Light,” she whispered, and touched his shoulder while he sighed in her lap.     Lazily he swatted at her hand, then reached up and with some clumsiness drew his fingers across her lips and jaw, his thumb catching between lip and teeth. The void-stuff prickled in her mouth like poison. “Would you like to be? It is such a critical gravity.”     She slid her hands into his hair while he brushed the back of his hand against her wet cheek.       He said, “I would speak your name to the worlds at the top of the world, were its speaking not anathema.”     “Move, Toland.” She got her hands under his shoulders and pushed. With a wounded look he let himself slide onto the floor while she turned and stretched her legs out, trying to stop them from prickling. She leaned over and kissed him. Instead of protesting he dragged her arm across his chest, bracing her against him so that she leaned into the kiss, catching her breath against skin that felt real, now warm, now intangible like fog.     “Anathema or anthem,” he whispered, and then the world was her name for a while, her name against her mouth, against her ear, against her throat, until she was surrounded by the whole dark universe of him and he was flickering, bled out by the light of her. He eased back and licked his lips and she followed him, took another kiss that made him keen and squirm. He turned, pressing his cheek against the floor as he flinched away from her.     She looked down at him, and let the silence sit for a moment. “Would you rather I were Savathûn?”     He was silent, heaving now with breath that she still could not feel on her face. Then, the words clear but laborious between breaths: “Would you rather I were the stark and truthful Deep, with all its blade-sharp honesty?” The truth of that sank into her like a stone into deep water. The Guardians did whisper. She would tell Toland her own truth now.

   “It was not the Deep that saved us,” she said. “Just you and I.”     “Not the Light, either.”     “You and I,” she hissed, and was surprised at the fury of it. She heaved him up by the shoulders again so that his head lolled against her legs. He looked at her with the patient expression he had given his concoctions. She had expected his fury to match hers, and so there was some impression of instability in his calmness, or else a balance, as if they siphoned energy from one another and could not both be furious at once. Toland’s sometimes-fanaticism had slackened into quiescent concern. The difference seemed as unexpected as his madness.       “Let me tell you of the great love of the Deep.”     “I think I know it.” Her lips curled in disdain.     He resettled himself more comfortably in her lap. With his long legs stretched out on the floor he looked like a narrow shadow, his right boot bumping up against the wooden leg of her bed. “I have flown between the black stars. I have walked on silver threads and touched the bones of things not yet dead. And all along the Deep, the embrace of a universe too full of truth for empty praise. The Deep does not lie, Eris, and if you belong to it you are armored against lies and whispers. Each word is proven against this truth and that, that is why the Worm names ring out as they do.”

“Do not speak of Worms.”     “Of embraces, then? Of worlds wrapped ‘round one another, of the burn behind the black of the universe? Behind everything there is that heat and there is that song.”     He sang of darkness speckled with stars. He sang of Hive conquests that ripped nebulas apart, that fed greedy black holes with entire fleets. The blue-black sky outside her bedroom window snagged and held her gaze as he spoke of the warm comfort of greater darkness. She drifted, almost asleep, while his voice rose and fell in ugly cracks and poetry.     When she felt that she had heard enough, she muttered, “You think you know so much.”     He brushed his hand against her cheek. “Yes, I do.”     “What action would you have us take? Is there anything useful in this poetry?”     “We have already made so much. The gun was just the first. But we have made opportunities and treaties and schemes since then, have we not?”     “It is all still there,” Eris said. “Remember that place? Fuzzy, like a smudged painting, but the place ... must be there? The flat in the city.”     “I know of no reason why it wouldn’t be.”     “Eriana’s things. The library …”     “Can you get there?” He asked.     “Yes.” She answered immediately. She had gone to the City before, on small quests and pilgrimages, on the journey where she had met the Exo spacer.     He shook himself, then curled his lip. Wistfulness and revulsion moved over his face fast, chasing one another. “And our weapon?”     “The Guardian has it.”     “The Guardian!” He crowd. The sudden loudness surprised her, and she flinched. Toland took his weight from her legs and sat beside her, running one hand from her hip to her knee as if to ground her.    “Murmur is mine as well, given away.” She shifted over to sit on his lap, the floor becoming uncomfortable now that she had spent so much time there. Both of them were used to stone, though. With his arms around her waist and the prickle of his skin - little warmth, little texture, no heartbeat - she could have been back in the pit, clarified and terrified and held.     “Such generous gifts. Ornamented also?” A buzz against her neck might be her own gooseflesh, might be his lips, might be the night breeze through the open window. The floor was uncomfortable against her hipbones and so she rose to her feet, alone for a moment. Had he left her? Had the Light flowed in just such a way as to tuck him under?     She spoke to the plane where she could always find him, unconcerned for whether he could hear. “No. That one is purified, but otherwise unchanged.”     A chill breeze like a disdainful kiss swept up from behind her, stirring her hair and her clothes. The Dark whispered of focused approval, and just a tinge of disappointment. That last was, like everything and his death had been, for show.     “Your disappointment is an afterthought,” she whispered. "Still putting on a face to impress."     The specter of Toland agreed, not a whisper but a confession. Hands made of smoke clasped hers and disappeared.     Eris Morn sat on hard ground and felt at home.