#i did these a bit earlier because i wanted to draw luke + warm up first but. i still haven't started oops

[justewil]

i'm sick take my doodles

alsoi tried to draw descole with my eyes closed

never again

[capsironunderoos]

December

DINCEMBER - December 2 - December (Ariana Grande Version)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Female!Reader

Summary: A little thievery, a little marketplace, a little mysterious allusions to past lives, and a little green baby.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None that I can think of! (Possibly my writing because this one is... something else)

Author’s Note: Ah okay so I know this is a day or so late, but I still wanted to keep up with @dindjarindiaries​ Dincember! This prompt was December by Ariana Grande and I can’t lie I’d never heard the song before! It’s really good though (and I definitely added it to my “baking Christmas cookies with matthew gray gubler” playlist). I was inspired by the lines “I’m just tryna keep my baby warm through the wintertime” and “whatever is on your list I’ll do it,” but probably not in the way you’d expect... Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I have a love hate relationship with how it turned out... Also, I do make some allusions to the readers past, but you can fill those in however you like! Was she an Imperial spy? A Rebel spy? Maybe she flew alongside Luke Skywalker, or learned how to beat Lando at sabacc! Who knows! That’s completely up to you. Anywho, this was a really long author’s note sheesh... Enjoy! 

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - November 30 - Snow

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

It’s almost cold today, you find yourself thinking as a slight breeze picks up the fabric sitting on your sale table. 

You’re carefully folding your newest line of fabrics onto the table before you, making sure they’re arranged in a way that will draw people in, and will get you enough credits to at least try out the new caf they’re selling at the cantina. 

You smile at the thought and smooth out a wrinkle in the bright red fabric before turning to look around you. 

The marketplace seems almost empty. Normally you have to elbow a few Jawa to get through the crowd and set up your table, but today was unnaturally easy. 

It’s almost unsettling how quiet the town is, normally on market days patrons all the way from Mos Eisley find their way to the multi-colored booths. Your booth tends to be pretty popular, as it’s rare to find a seamstress on a dust ball like Tatooine. 

It doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes either, and that you know how to work an unsuspecting husband into buying something new for his wife, or a new mother into buying a cloth sling to carry her crying baby in. 

It also doesn’t hurt that there don’t seem to be enough rumors about you. 

Some point and whisper as they walk by, saying you once sewed the robes worn by Jedi and Sith alike. Others stare in the cantina as they place bets on which royal you sewed for and if you ever got to live on a core planet. 

Of course none of them are true, and most of them were started by you to thrum up good business. 

What can you say? The caf at the cantina is really good. 

It’s been a few minutes now, well past the opening hour of the market, and the number of booths is still few and far between. 

You hum in disappointment, accepting that you won’t be making many, if any sales today. You begin to sit down on the stool you bring along for days like this when you see a scrap of your best-selling silver cloth suspiciously fly off of the table. 

It takes a second, but you note that there’s no wind blowing, so there’s no way it was carried off by a sudden strong breeze. 

You grab the small stun gun you keep tucked away in your belt, slowly moving around the table, already knowing you’re about to have another run in with a Jawa. 

Your footsteps are measured, and if anyone were to pay enough attention, they’d notice that a seamstress wouldn’t know how to move the way you are. 

As you creep around the table, you notice that another scrap of fabric, this time green, is swept away as if by an invisible being. 

Your steps pick up then, and you round the table just in time to see a small creature waddling away from your booth, fabric dragging the ground as it struggles to carry a stolen bounty almost as large as the creature is. 

“Hey! Not so fast, little one!” You call out, and the creature turns to look at you. 

He squeaks in alarm and begins… running? 

You think it’s possibly running, or trying to at least. 

You note how large its clothes are, and how they seem to be tripping it up as it tries to escape. 

If it hadn’t been stealing from you, you’d almost have felt bad for it. 

Three more lunging steps later and you’ve managed to put your stun gun away and scoop the small being into your arms. It wails in disapproval and struggles against you in a feeble attempt to get away, but your grip is tight enough to keep it tucked into the crook of your arm. 

“Now where do you think you’re going with that?” You ask as you grab the fabric from its hands. 

As cute as you suddenly realize it is, it’s hard to miss how stubbornly it holds onto the fabric. 

You begin to walk back to your booth, scanning the area for anyone who might be searching for it. 

It’s calmed down now, and you turn to see it’s big brown eyes staring up at you. 

“Oh don’t give me that look. Doesn’t matter how cute you are, you still gotta pay like everyone else.” 

The little one coos in response, as if understanding and responding to your statement. 

“Uh huh,” you nonchalantly agree to its babbling as you do your best to fold the fabrics back into their places with one hand, your left arm currently supporting the child in it. 

“Is there someone you’re supposed to be with right now? A leash you broke off or, um, maybe a cage you got out of? Or are you somebody’s kid?” You question, and it looks up at you, blinking quietly and deciding that now it’ll be quiet.

“Well, I doubt you’re anybody’s kid, ‘cause I’ve never seen anything like you around here. But I also doubt that you’re anybody’s pet, ‘cause I know good and well no one would be able to keep you on a leash, especially not in a cage. You’re too cute for all that. Besides, I think you might be able to escape too easily anyways.” 

The child laughs at that, and you find yourself smiling in response. 

“Hey I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to pull that fabric off of my table. You’re not exactly the same height.” You wonder aloud, and the child moves to sit up as best it can in your arms. 

You apologize to it before sitting it on the table and pulling your stool up. 

It doesn’t really matter if it tries to run off, you already know you could catch the poor thing in two steps. 

The creature watches you intently, tilting its head as if inspecting you, or searching you for something. 

You furrow your eyebrows at its actions, leaning up to get a little bit closer to it. 

You notice movement out of the corner of your eye and sit back again, watching as the little one begins to raise one of his hands. 

You can feel your heart rate pick up as your mind races to put together what the child is trying to show you, but before the connection can be made a set of quick and heavy footsteps are striding up to your table. 

“There you are,” you hear through the crackle of a modulator, which cues you to turn and see a Mandalorian taking long strides to your booth. 

Dread instantly fills your chest, and you quickly stand up, glancing down at your stun gun sticking out of your boot and back to the Mandalorian. 

Was he talking to you or the kid? Regardless of whichever one he was talking to, you have a feeling you’re both about to be in some trouble. 

Last you knew you didn’t have an active bounty on your head, but that had been too many rotations ago to remember. Surely the small child beside you wouldn’t have an active bounty, it hardly knew how to speak, much less commit a serious crime against the New Republic, or the remaining Imps for that matter. 

Your wandering thoughts are quickly answered as the Mandalorian scoops the little green being in its arms. 

“I told you to stay put kid,” his tone is meant to come off as scolding, but you can hear the worry in his voice. 

The child is grinning from ear to ear, obviously happy to see the man before you. 

“You know,” you start, and the Mandalorian turns to you as if noticing you for the first time. 

“I can sew you something to wear that he can ride in. Can match the color to that fancy beskar and everything.” 

At the mention of his armor, you notice the Mandalorian stand a bit straighter. 

“No, thank you. I hope that he wasn’t too much of a bother.” 

The child laughs at the mention of himself, and you find yourself fighting a grin. 

“Well, other than trying to make off with two of my best-selling fabrics,” you shrug and the Mandalorian returns his gaze to the kid, who has gone suspiciously silent. 

“Did you give them back?” He chastises the child again, but before it has a chance to answer you step in. 

“I got them back. He tried to make a run for it, but he’s not very fast.” 

A beat of silence passes between the three of you before you continue. 

“I could fix that too. Those clothes are obviously too big for him.” 

The Mandalorian sighs, but it comes out as a crackle. How had you managed to finally meet the first customer you’d ever had that was able to resist your persuading? 

“I said no thank you earlier, and the same applies now.” 

You raise your hands in defense, feigning innocence. 

“Alright Mando, alright,” you taunt him and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“I’m just trying to keep that baby warm through the winter time.” 

At the reference to him, the kid squirms in the Mandalorians arms, turning to look at you with big eyes, full of want. 

“Whatever’s on your list, I’ll do it. I’m the best around. Actually, I’m the only around.” 

You decide to try one last time, and even if he doesn’t respond or buy, at least you’ll know what to work on when the next Mandalorian shows up at your table. 

He’s quiet for too long, and you turn your attention back to the kid. 

“I see why you wanted that silver, little one. It’d match ole tin can man perfectly.” 

You taunt him again, and the Mandalorian continues to stand still. 

After another beat of silence, you hear the scramble of feet behind him, and you move to glance over his shoulder. 

“Peli!” You exclaim, and she smiles as she sees you, but you notice her smile growing even bigger when she sees the kid peeking through the Mandalorians arms to see her. 

“Hey kiddo! And… kiddo,” she jokes as she moves to stand beside Mando. 

The kid makes grabby-arms towards her and she laughs, accepting him into her arms. 

“This that Mando you were telling me about over caf the other week?” You question and she nods.��

“As he lives and breathes. At least, I think he’s living and breathing.” 

You nod in agreement. 

“Come on Mando,” she prompts, gesturing for him to follow her. 

“Your ship has some… problems, to say the least, and I need an opinion that isn't a pit droids.” 

You wave to the child as Peli retreats back in the direction she came before turning to face the Mandalorian once more. 

“Offer still stands,” you start, and his helmet moves ever so slightly to look at you. 

“Response is still the same,” he combats, and you laugh.

---

Three days later and Din is ready to get off of this sand pit. 

He normally doesn’t mind coming and visiting Peli, having the Crest regularly serviced while taking a few days to visit old friends or to simply sit with the feisty mechanic and his kid. 

But he’s got stuff to do now, and Life Day is just around the corner. 

He didn’t remember too much of his childhood, but he remembered celebrating Life Day with his parents when they were still alive. Therefore, he wants to give the kid a good Life Day this year, as Din was almost certain he’d never experienced one before. 

This meant gathering gifts specifically for the little creature, and that meant trekking across the galaxy before settling onto Nevarro to celebrate Life Day with Cara and Greef. 

He watches from afar as the pit droids finish up their final touches, making sure the Crest has a full tank before he’s cleared to go. 

“Hey Mando!” 

He hears from behind him, and he turns to see Peli marching towards him. 

“Looks like you made an impression a few days ago. I’ve never known her to do anything for free, much less as a gift.” 

Din immediately knows that Peli is talking about you, and he wishes that he didn’t. 

You’ve been all he can think about, and he hates himself for literally just standing there as you tried to talk to him. 

Peli pulls him from his thoughts as she extends her hands to him, offering a gift wrapped in dark brown paper. 

Din takes it from her and mutters a thank you. 

“You’re welcome,” Peli replies dramatically before stomping off to find the kid. 

Din can read the basic scrawled on top that reads “For the tin can man and his green kid,” and he feels himself smiling at the scrawl of your handwriting. 

He quickly opens the box, not surprised to see a small dark brown robe, almost the color of the fabric he wears, sitting atop a silver pile of fabric. 

He pulls the robe out first, noticing how well it has been sewn together, already knowing that the child’s going to never want to wear anything else now. 

He then pulls out the silver fabric, noticing that it looks to be something for him. 

“Oh yeah new moms put their kids in that at the market! You just strap ‘em right to your chest and they never cry again,” Peli calls from her spot beside the ship where she’s been holding the kid and watching Din. 

Din finds his smile growing even more, and he’s almost surprised to see another note in the box, written on what looks like handmade paper. 

The basic is even more scrawled in this note, as if you’d decided to put it in at the last minute. 

Din pulls it from the box and can't help but to smile from ear to ear as he reads it. 

Just trying to keep that baby warm through the wintertime. Anything else on your list I can do, but you’re gonna have to actually pay this time. Happy Life Day.  

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hot Chocolate

[tchallasbabymama]

who you are (T’Challa x Black!OC)

6,281 words

A/N: Damn I wrote a lot. So I want this to turn into a series based around music, but I haven’t figured out the series title yet. It’ll come to me.

As soon as the sun peeked out over the horizon Ashanti’s eyes blinked open. It was going to be a normal sweltering January day in Wakanda, so the merchant tribe girl took advantage of the cool morning air. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts before putting on her running shoes and heading out into the world. She stood on her porch to stretch her muscles while she watched the sun begin to peek between the trees. Once she limbered up, she took off for her daily run around the streets of Birnin Zana. Her mind cleared as she processed her dream from the night before.

In her dream, a faceless man walked into her store and browsed for a long time before turning to face her. Ashanti was drawn to him. Her arms found their way around his neck and her lips met his. She felt a buzzing all throughout her body and her lips heated up like she had eaten hot peppers. Their breathing synched up and his hands roamed from her neck all the way down to her ass, cupping her cheeks and getting dangerously close to her dripping pussy. He introduced his tongue to her mouth and her knees buckled as she let out a desperate moan. Just as his right hand slipped under her skirt the sun rose and woke her from her utopia with her mystery man.

Ashanti kept a dream journal, and this one was one she wanted to have on record to come back to later. It felt like more than a dream, it felt too real for it to just be a dream.

Ashanti pushed through her run and made it back to her house in record time. When she walked in the door she could hear the sounds of her roommates finally rising for the day. Ashanti loved living with Kwame and Binta, and there was never a dull day around the house living with the two rambunctious fraternal twins. Both of their parents had died by the time they graduated high school, and the big empty house had been left to them. When the twins met Ashanti they had been looking for another roommate to make it feel like a home again, and it was friendship at first sight. They knew they had found a good match.

“Good morning Titi!”

“Ayy look who it is! How was the run today?”

“You wouldn't have to ask that if you’d join me,” Ashanti teased knowing damn well Kwame wasn’t one for non-sexual physical activity. Kwame rolled his eyes and shoveled more plantains onto his plate.

“Girl you know I don't do all that running mess. For what?!”

Ashanti and Binta giggled as they shared a knowing look and the older twin  handed her a plate full of food that she had just whipped up while Ashanti was on her run.

The three of them had lived together since college and fell into their morning routine years ago. Ashanti would rise at the crack of dawn and go for her run, then Binta would get up and make breakfast which was somehow always ready by whatever time Ashanti got back and Kwame finally decided to join the land of the living. Ashanti asked her once how she had perfect timing every morning, and the twins responded in perfect unison.

“Magic.” “Magic.”

Ashanti never asked again, mostly because she couldn’t tell if they were serious or not. She wouldn’t be surprised either way.

Per their routine, Ashanti shoveled her food down and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She turned on the water to let it warm up, and in the meantime she stripped down to her birthday suit and admired her body in the mirror. She had a love-hate relationship with her body for most of her life, but she found that the more she saw herself naked the more she loved what she saw. Ashanti wasn’t vain though, it was a self-esteem thing.

Once she tore her eyes away from her naked form she stepped into the falling water and just stood there for a moment letting it all wash over her. She grabbed her lemongrass and black soap bar and her loofa and went to town washing her body from head to toe.

Since she was a little girl Ashanti had a fear of singing in public, but when she was in the shower she never held back. Thankful for the soundproof vibranium-laced walls, she belted her heart out to her favorites. She even had a playlist just of songs to sing in the shower. Sometimes she would build a queue, but other times she would let the shuffle button have it’s way. This was one of those times.

This perception's got me restless I ain't dreamin' 'less you're there I supply what you require I need you like I need air You give me life with all the light you're shinin' Oh, there's no question It's evident that you would compliment the love you're not havin'

So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

She carefully swayed her hips and sang along with Luke James, feeling every bit of the emotion in his words. The song made her feel warm inside like a first crush. That nervous yet adorable energy swirled around her as she reveled in the feeling of puppy love, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Ashanti had discovered western music when Wakanda opened itself to the world, and she wanted to personally thank King T’Challa for allowing the joys of R&B and other genres from across the diaspora into her life. The melodies and the beats were reminiscent of music from her home country in many ways, and she gravitated towards the love songs, songs about heartbreak, and ass-shaking music. She needed to feel it either emotionally or physically.

She could’ve stayed in that shower for hours if she had the time, but Ashanti had errands to run and work to do.

After getting dressed for the day, she grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder before heading back downstairs. Binta was lying across the couch staring at their newly installed hologram tv in contempt. Ashanti noticed it was playing some American reality show about rich colonizers that try to look like Black women.

Binta sucked her teeth.

“Can you believe this? Why do they look like that?!” Binta half yelled at Ashanti and half yelled at the screen.

“Because, girl look at us,” Ashanti gestured at her and her roommate’s beautiful assets and they both fell out laughing.

“You heading into work already? It’s barely 8”

“Yeah, I need to get some shopping done before I open up. Be good!” Ashanti pecked Binta on the cheek before sliding her shoes on and heading out the door for the second time that morning.

Ashanti walked through the bazaar and took in the sights and smells. She made quick work of her shopping list and even with being stopped to say hello to every other person she encountered on the way, she made it to her store in record time. She loved the energy of the marketplace as a little girl growing up in the Merchant tribe. When she was seven years old her parents, Chidi and Bisa Mostafa, opened up a restaurant, Zana Cafe, smack dab in the middle of the Birnin Zana Bazaar that’s been going strong for twenty years. When the shop owner from across the street grew too old to run her art supply store she sold it to the Mostafas for a low low price. There wasn’t another shop like it in the market, so Chidi and Bisa tasked Ashanti with keeping it running.

Ashanti eventually saved enough money to buy the shop next door and she transformed the space into a combination art gallery, supply store, and amateur marketplace. She wanted it to be a space where artists of all skill levels could come together, create, and even sell their work.  She sold her own handmade crystal jewelry and had a children’s section full of finger paints and fun craft projects. The kids loved when she displayed their art along the shop walls. There was even a classroom towards that back of the multi-use space she used for community art lessons.

Ashanti had named the space after the first person to encourage her art, her umakhulu Taj. She missed her grandaddy more than anything in this world, and she dedicated her creative space to his memory. People from all over Wakanda knew of Taj’s, it being the only shop of it’s kind in all of Birnin Zana.

Chidi waved at Ashanti from across the street while he prepared the restaurant for the morning rush, and she blew him a kiss before stepping into her shop, her happy place.

She closed her eyes and smiled a warm smile before drawing the curtains and letting the light in. She turned on her music and danced around the shop, straightening up as she went. She still had that same Luke James song on repeat from earlier.

Did I mention, I love tension? No more stressin' when we touch My salvation, my temptation I felt safety in your clutch (clutch) Come save me now, just stick around No, you ain't gotta stay long How you make minutes pass like seconds I feel like I gotta hold on (hmm) So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

A chill went down Ashanti’s spine as that warm fuzzy feeling filled her once more. Her face felt flushed and she kept grinning wider and wider as she shuffled around Taj’s, sweeping all the dirt out the back door. She went to sweep her stoop when the sight of the Dora Milaje caught her off guard. It wasn’t often that royalty made their way to the market, but she knew every shop owner would be clamoring to gain whoever’s attention. She kept sweeping then opened her shop doors wide before heading back inside.

Before she could make it halfway back to her spot at the front counter, she heard the chime that alerts her when new customers enter.

“Hi, welcome to Taj’s, what can I-”, her voice caught in her throat when she turned around and saw the king flanked by two of his Dora Milaje. She noticed two more stationed at the door and looked past them to see her nosy parent across the street staring into Taj’s to get a glimpse of what's going on.

“Kumkani wam.”

Ashanti saluted King T’Challa and a deep rumbling erupted from his chest before he cracked the most adorable crooked smile.

“Please, none of that.”

____________

Mornings in Birnin Zana were always calm and quiet until about 10am when the whole city woke up and went on about their day. This wasn’t the case for King T’Challa who preferred to start his day at 6. It was the only time he could really have to himself without interruption. He would always go for a run around the palace grounds or out into the lush Wakandan forest right as the sun poked out above the trees.

Another thing people didn’t know about the King of Wakanda is that he loved to cook. As a boy he spent so much of his time hanging around the kitchen staff they jokingly put him to work one day and he took right to it. Not only did T’Challa love mornings because of the solitude, he loved mornings because of breakfast. It was his favorite meal of the day. When he was a teenager he often cooked breakfast for his family, but as an adult it’s something he only had time for sparingly. He always had a meeting or a mission or something important and unavoidable in the way.

However, today he had the time because he had taken the day off. As king he answers to nobody but Bast and the people of Wakanda...but there are a lot of people and a lot of problems to solve so sometimes the king needed a day to himself. T’Challa trusted his sister and his cousin to keep things running smoothly in his absence,and he made them swear to only contact him if the country was about to collapse.

These would be a beautiful 24 hours.

After making his way back to the palace he quickly showered and threw on some clothes for the day. T’Challa felt relaxed being dressed-down and thought about maybe doing it more often. The royal robes were so stiff.

The king slid into the kitchen with a smile on his face, humming to some American song he couldn’t get out of his head but didn’t know the words to. He scooped up some mandazi the kitchen staff had left for him and took a bite while he rummaged through the refrigerator looking for whatever called to him. T’Challa found what he was looking for and got to work dicing and mixing and grating his ingredients. He had just thrown a pinch more of cardamom in the pancake batter when his mother strolled in.

“Mholo, unyana wam!”

“Good morning to you too mother,” T’Challa chuckled at the Queen Mother’s jovial mood.

He kissed her cheek and flipped the pancakes on the griddle. He turned around just in time to catch Ramonda taking a swipe of the batter.

“Mama you should know better. What kind of role model are you for your young impressionable daughter?”

“Hush, child”

The two smiled and settled into a comfortable silence while T’Challa sautéed up fragrant vegetables, making Ramonda even more impatient. Just as she was about to ask T’Challa how much longer until they could eat, her young impressionable daughter rounded the corner looking like she had been caught in a tornado. That was the normal for Shuri, a notoriously wild sleeper.

“Good morning mother, Gap Tooth,” Shuri yawned. “ Where’s Braille?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his little sister’s nicknames and cracked eggs into the pan.

“You know that boy only shows up right when the food is do-“

Ramonda was cut off by the doors opening and Prince N’Jadaka strolled in with sunglasses on and the same clothes they saw him wearing when he left last night.

He noticed all three sets of eyes were glued to his hungover form. He was surprised when instead of admonishing him for his obviously very unroyal behavior they all broke out into laughter. He couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Long night?”

“Man you already know, we’ll talk later when there aren’t sensitive ears around.”

The two male cousins dapped each other up before N’Jadaka kissed his Auntie and little cousin on their foreheads.

“Mornin’ Auntie, Rugrat.”

“Mholo Daka.”

“Topographic map.”

Even T’Challa had to give her that one.

The family of four sat down and enjoyed the home-cooked meal of spiced plantain pancakes drizzled with honey, an egg and vegetable scramble, cheese grits, spicy sausage, and fresh fruit.

T’Challa loved seeing the look of satisfaction on people’s faces when they eat his food almost as much as his family loved eating whatever he put in front of them. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

After breakfast, T’Challa hung around and chatted with his family while they cleaned the kitchen. They never let him do this part, and since none of the Udakus were big on relying on the palace staff for every little thing, the prince, princess, and Queen Mother of Wakanda rolled up their sleeves to do some quick manual labor. Shuri and Ramonda washed and dried the dishes while N’Jadaka wiped down the table and countertops. He finished and the two male cousins went to take a walk around the gardens.

The second they stepped outside the palace T’Challa pulled out a blunt of the finest Wakanda kush and lit the tip. He pulled the smoke into his mouth and let it float up to his nose. He inhaled and then exhaled the smoke as he felt it take effect. He passed it to N’Jadaka and started talking.

“Last night…?”

N’Jadaka took a hit.

“My nigga...so you remember that hot lil river tribe thang I told you about?” T’Challa nodded as N’Jadaka handed him the blunt.

“So I take her out, right? Tell me why, we get to the restaurant she starts acting brand new? Turns out, this whole time we been smashing she’s trying to lock this down. So I paid for dinner and had Aneka take her home-“

“So where did you end up staying all night?”

“With the waitress.”

T’Challa stopped walking and glanced at his cousin before they both broke out into a fit of giggles.

They continued to walk and talk and pass the blunt back and forth. As they neared the palace doors the blunt had burned down to the roach. The two “went for a walk” so much they had it timed perfectly.

“So what you got planned for your day off?”

“Absolutely nothing,” T’Challa said, grinning from ear to ear. “And it better-“

“Stay that way, yeah yeah nigga I know. The Brain and I got this, go enjoy your day. Do some shit you haven’t done in a while. Be lazy. Make something. Get some pussy.”

T’Challa cut his eyes at his slightly younger cousin but couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. It had been a while for all of those things and damn did he miss them.

He clapped N’Jadaka on the back and turned to walk in the other direction.

“Good idea, umzala.”

“Which one?...Aye I know you heard me witcho supersonic hearing ass…”

T’Challa just chuckled and flipped off his cousin as he rounded the corner.

“Don’t ruin my country while I’m gone!”

“I should burn it down again just for that.”

T’Challa roamed the Birnin Zana Bazaar with his Dora Milaje for the first time in at least two years. Yes, he was a busy man with very little leisure time, but the Bazaar also held a lot of memories that the king would rather not revisit. As he passed the winding staircase he sighed, thinking of his former lover Nakia. She was off living a happy life in America with her girlfriend Janelle and their two goofy looking dogs, and he was genuinely happy for her. He and Nakia had love for each other, but they eventually realized they weren’t in love and decided to split. The memories were bittersweet.

The king decided he would pay an old friend a visit. Growing up, T’Challa only had his father. His biological mother died in childbirth, and since his father didn’t meet Ramonda until he was 12, the only mother he knew as a young child had been his nanny Ada.

She was a firecracker of a woman who never let him get away with anything, and he loved her with his whole heart. She was still an unofficial member of the Udaku family with an open invitation to visit the palace whenever she wanted. T’Chaka and Ramonda had tried to offer her a room in the palace but she refused, saying, “It’s too quiet here.” After she hung up her nanny hat, Ada became an entrepreneur. She had always loved arts and crafts so she opened up an art supply shop in the middle of the Bazaar, thanks to a hefty check from the Udakus. T’Challa used to love visiting Ada’s shop, but when she grew too old to care for it anymore she sold it and he hadn’t yet seen what became of it. He decided he’d stop by the shop before visiting Ada.

People were everywhere, but T’Challa loved the hustle and bustle of the city. Many of the past monarchs avoided mingling with the public more than necessary, but T’Chaka had taught his son the value in spending time among the people. In fact, T’Challa’s favorite part of being king is when he makes his rounds to visit all the tribes.

The king and his Doras strolled through the market, periodically stopping to converse with excited children.

They rounded the corner of the main streetway and he noticed a woman sweeping the stoop in front of what was Ada’s shop. He watched the sway of her hips and tried to read her lips to figure out what song she was singing. As he got closer he could just make out her angelic voice singing over the acoustic guitar in the unfamiliar song.  She had a dreamy smile on her face that made her deep dimples come out of hiding, and when she turned around to head inside the shop he noticed the thickness of her ass and thighs.

“Bast have mercy.”

His feet automatically carried him into Taj’s, and when she turned around to face him his knees nearly buckled. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

——————————-

Ashanti felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn’t believe the king was in her shop of all places.

“My apologies, your highness,” she stammered and the broom fell out of her sweaty hand.

Before she could even reach for it, the king had already lifted the old broom from the floor. He passed it to her and when their fingers brushed against each other they both felt static in their fingertips, though neither of them broke their poker faces.

“Truly, it is not a problem.”

T’Challa tore his eyes from hers and looked around the multi-use space. His eyes and eventually his body gravitated towards the childrens’ artwork along the walls, taking it all in with an adorably crooked smile.

“How long has this shop been open?”

“Coming up on two years now...your highness.”

“No need for all the formalities miss…”

“Ashanti Mostafa, my kin- I mean, um, sir,” Ashanti stumbled over her words, unsure of how to address the royal.

“I took the day off so just call me T’Challa, Miss Ashanti,” he winked and continued around the space.

“Is Taj in today?”

“No, Taj was my umakhulu. He died five years ago, so when I got this place I named it after him because he’s the one who taught me how to draw and paint and mold clay...he shared his love of art with me, so I’m paying it forward with all this,” Ashanti gestured outwardly.

T’Challa was in awe of her. He listened to her story and walked towards the artist marketplace section of the shop. His eyes gravitated towards a golden vibranium filigree choker with an intricately wrapped garnet pendant.

“These pieces are beautiful, I would love to get one for my mother and my sister. Does the artist take custom orders?”

“They will for the king.”

“Well sometimes being royalty has its privileges. Ayo, will you get the artist’s information from Miss Ashanti here?”

Ashanti couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was almost stunned to silence. The king liked her pieces.

“Actually your hi-,” she was stopped by a playful warning look from the king.

“T’Challa, I’m the artist.”

T’Challa became more and more enamoured with the shop owner every time she spoke. She was beautiful, talented, and her aura seemed to cover everything in its reach with her warm glow. He would definitely be visiting the Bazaar more often.

Ashanti rounded the counter and fiddled with her rose gold kimoyo beads before her other designs were projected in the air in front of the king.

“I thought you said you painted and molded clay. This is certainly not that,” he leaned on the counter as his Doras shared a knowing glance.

“That’s just how I started,” Ashanti explained. “I still paint sometimes when the mood hits, but nowadays I mostly craft jewelry. Oh I just got into beading, and you wouldn’t believe how sore my fingertips are.”

In that moment it took all of T’Challa’s willpower to keep from reaching out and kissing her calloused but delicate fingers.

Ashanti unconsciously leaned in closer to the king.

“So what brought you to my humble shop, T’Challa? Bast, it feels so weird to call you that.”

T’Challa chuckled, and Ashanti nearly blushed again from the deep rumbling.

“You’ll get used to it eventually. As I mentioned before, these pieces are beautiful. I would like to commission two. What is your price?”

“Two hundred a piece.”

“I’ll give you one thousand.”

Ashanti’s eyes blinked and her smile gradually crept up her chubby cheeks. The two went back and forth for over an hour over the details of the necklaces before the king bid the shop owner adieu with the promise to return in two weeks. Before he reached the door he turned around, almost catching her staring at him.

“I forgot to ask. Miss Ashanti, do you normally play the same song on repeat in the store?”

Ashanti hadn’t even noticed Luke James’ “Who You Are” had been playing ever since she opened her doors. Her mind had been clouded by the king’s powerful aura and kind eyes, and the only sound that mattered in that moment was the smoky melody of his voice. She blushed yet again.

“I don’t normally, but something had me a little distracted today,” she winked at the king. “The artist is Luke James, one of my favorites from America. You should check him out if you like what you hear.”

Her eyes locked onto his and he smirked.

“I’ll do just that.”

---------------------------------- A week passed and both Ashanti and T’Challa had listened to that same song on repeat more times than they could count. Neither one could understand how they had become so smitten with the other in a 90 minute time span.

Even the people around them had begun to notice the changes in their behavior. Unsurprisingly, the first two to say something were N’Jadaka and Kwame.

N’Jadaka slipped into T’Challa’s office after the council meeting wrapped up. His cousin had spent the last hour settling land disputes and was in desperate need of a break. They were too busy to take a walk, so T’Challa poured two generous glasses of the strongest palm wine in Wakanda. It wasn’t enough to make them drunk since the heart shaped herb running through their veins burned off alcohol too quickly for one glass to cause any damage. They’d have to drink a bottle a piece to even start to have a good time. However, they felt the effects of cannabis and psychedelics just like anyone else.

“What’s got you smiling so much? It’s starting to get creepy, you looked way too happy during that land dispute and I know you hate doing that shit.”

“I don’t know what-”

“You're really gonna lie to me? Your favorite cousin? I’m hurt.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his least favorite cousin’s dramatics.

“You are my only cousin, N’Jadaka. And besides, I really do not know what you mean, I have just been in good spirits lately.”

“Mmmhm. You got some pussy, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because you're acting like you got some pussy.”

On the other side of Birnin Zana, Kwame watched Ashanti glide around the living room with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Girl I know you’re not that happy about dusting. Spill.”

“What?” Ashanti giggled. “I’m just in a good mood today, it’s been a good week at the shop.”

Kwame cut his eyes at her and pursed his lips. He didn’t believe a damn thing she said. Binta told him she had seen Ashanti humming and slow dancing in the kitchen the other day, so he knew something had to be up.

“Did you get some dick? Or some pus- nah that’s a dick face right there.”

“Who’s a dick face?” Binta came in and grabbed some coconut water from the fridge.

“Apparently I have ‘just got some dick’ face,” Ashanti responded with an eye roll.

“Yeah you’ve had it for about a week now. Spill.”

“That’s what I said, twin!”

They did their annoying twin handshake and turned back to Ashanti.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s just been a good week at the shop.”

Ashanti tried to get back to her dusting, but they wouldn’t let her.

“Nuh uh girl, get to talking.”

“B…”

“We’re waiting…”

Ashanti rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck, or so her mom would say had she seen it.

“Ok, fine! This man came into the shop the other day and had me blushing like a sixth grader with her first crush. He was just so...fine, and smooth, and sweet…”

Ashanti drifted off into a daydream while the twins sat there taking it all in. Kwame was the first to speak.

“Titi, your nose is wide the fuck open. Did you get his name, tap beads, something?!”

Ashanti couldn’t admit she had a crush on the king. For one, she was a little embarrassed because she knew how foolish she looked pining after a royal who could never return the sentiments. Secondly, if she told them she would never hear the end of it.

“Uh, his name is...Amare.”

Binta’s eyes went soft.

“Amare, I’ve always loved that name. What’s he look like?”

“Like Bast carved him out of vibranium.”

Kwame and Binta look at each other again.

“Like I said...wide open. So when are you opening those legs too?”

Ashanti tried to look busy.

“I’m uh, not sure if he’ll be back. His accent sounded American.”

She knew that would get them off her case. Ever since T’Challa announced Wakanda’s riches to the world they had opened up their doors to the Lost Tribe. For the last two years, Black people from all over the globe had travelled to Wakanda, so it would be an easy cop out for Ashanti.

“Well damn girl, you finally get a man and this is how it goes...maybe one day the king will allow outsiders to move here permanently and you can get your Prince Charming.”

“Heh, maybe. So what’s for dinner?”

——————-

Another week passed and the day had come for Ashanti and T’Challa to see each other again.

Both of them were nervous beyond belief, but only one of them had someone to confide in.

“I’m telling you, T, just be cool. Plus, you’re the king, she’d have to be an idiot to say no.”

T’Challa had planned to ask Ashanti out on a date. He couldn’t get her out of his head the whole two weeks they were apart, and he took it as a sign from Bast that she was something special.

He was nervous to see her again and he hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Right in the center of the Birnin Zana Bazaar, Ashanti fiddled with the custom necklaces she made at the king’s request. She hoped they were good enough for royalty and her nerves started to get the best of her. Her hands shook and her breathing sped up. She took a deep breath then walked out her shop and across the street to her parents’ restaurant. Her mom was the first to greet her.

“Hi honey, what brings you over to our side of the street?”

“Bisa you know the girl wants something!” Chidi yelled from the supply closet.

“Hush!”

“Hello to you too baba!” Ashanti laughed at her father’s antics.

“I’m just nervous. The king is coming back today...what if he hates them? What if Queen Mother or Princess Shuri hate them?!”

Ashanti started to get worked up again and Bisa rubbed her back in slow circles. Chidi brought her a cup of tea and the three of them sat outside the cafe in silence while she calmed down.

“Sweetie, it’ll be ok. He wouldn’t have commissioned the pieces if he thought they wouldn’t like them. And he’s seen your work, how could he not like it?! If so he’s a fool.”

“Baba! This is the king we’re talking about.”

“I don’t care! Anyone who can’t see my baby’s talent isn’t worth my respect.” He kissed her on her forehead and when he opened his eyes he noticed the women in red coming around the corner.

“Someone’s early…”

Ashanti looked confused for a moment before her mother gestured for her to turn around.

There stood the king and his Dora Milaje.

Bisa and Chidi quickly stood and saluted the king, Ashanti giggled and they looked at her in disbelief.

“That is unnecessary, please.”

“We are sorry, my king. Welcome to our restaurant, we are Ashanti’s parents. I am Chidi Mostafa and this is my wife Bisa.”

“We are so honored to have you.”

T’Challa reached out and shook their hands, shocking the older Mostafas.

Ashanti wondered if she looked this starstruck last time...she concluded she probably did.

However, this time when she stared at him she made sure to take in all his features. The faint crinkle around his eyes and his frown lines reminded her of their slight age difference and the stress of his job. His big bright eyes made him look like a puppy and his gap-toothed smile leaned perfectly to the left.

“Unfortunately I cannot stay long, I have other business to attend to that I cannot  get out of. I do hope to see the two of you again, but I believe Miss Ashanti here has something for me.”

“I sure do. Mama, Baba, I’ll swing by later.”

She kissed their cheeks and walked shoulder to shoulder with the king to her shop across the street.

“I have had your parents’ food before, in my opinion it is the best in all of the Bazaar. You are very talented people, Miss Ashanti.”

She was getting really tired of blushing, but it happened again.

“Thanks T’Challa. So, um, let’s get to it so you can get to your important kingly duties.”

They shared a smile.

She pulled out two large velvet boxes and opened them. Sitting among the silk were two necklaces that were more beautiful than T’Challa had imagined.

Shuri’s necklace featured a rough sapphire gem wrapped in wire hanging from a structured v-shaped vibranium collar. The stones set in the vibranium gave the necklace an ombre look as the stones grew lighter and lighter all the way down to the sapphire. The necklace would land about mid-chest on the princess, and T’Challa just knew she’d love it.

Queen Mother’s necklace was even more intricate and more like the necklace he had seen his first time in the shop. The gold filigree collar necklace was dripping with small gems hanging from every loop, with one large ruby set in the middle.

“Miss Ashanti…” T’Challa barely breathed out.

“Oh no, You hate them.”

“No, no! Quite the opposite actually. They’re beautiful, I-I’m speechless.”

Ashanti breathed a sigh of relief.

“As I mentioned before, you Mostafa’s are very talented…and beautiful.”

Ashanti gasped. There was no way…

“My king?”

“What? It is true. You are a very beautiful woman Ashanti, among many other things.”

That damn song started playing in her head and her smile pushed her dimples deeper the larger it grew.

“Thank you, T’Challa. You’re...alright looking.”

They both had to have a laugh at that one.

“Just alright?” He leaned in closer to her across the counter.

“Hm, maybe”

“Will you let me change your mind?”

“How would you do that?” She asked, leaning closer and getting a whiff of the cocoa butter on his skin.

“If you’d accompany me for a night out tomorrow evening I could show you.”

Ashanti froze and backed up. For a minute there she almost forgot who he was, but she had to remind herself that he wasn’t just a cute customer. He was the king, and he had to have been out of his Bast-given mind.

Unless this was something he did often.

“My k-, T’Challa...If you are looking for someone to play with and discard, I suggest looking elsewhere. I’m sure there are plenty of your subjects lined up in waiting for the bachelor king to swoop them up.”

Ashanti immediately regretted her words, but they just seemed to tickle T’Challa.

“Miss Ashanti, I am not that kind of man. I believe you have me confused with Prince N’Jadaka.”

Ashanti snorted. She had heard many stories about the prince and sort of assumed all royals behaved in such a manner.

“Besides I am much too busy to play the field since becoming king. Had you known me 5-10 years ago it would’ve been a different story.” T’Challa winked and noticed her look away to hide her smile. She remained silent.

“Please, it would bring me great joy to see you again. If not I will leave you alone. Just think about it.”

He tapped his black and purple kimoyo beads to her rose gold ones.

“There, now you have my contact information. It’s my direct line, please feel free to use it.”

With that he turned and left the shop. Ashanti had to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. After a minute it started to sink in that the king of Wakanda had asked her on a date.

“That really just happened.”

She stood there in a daze and was only pulled out of it when a customer walked into the shop.

“Welcome to Taj’s!”

—————

Chapter 2

[sunsetcurveofficial]

So with the prompt thing, can you do the bedhead one with Ruke? Would much appreciate it lol

oh my god. i am SO sorry, love. i swear i did not mean to ignore you. tumblr must have eaten your message, because i genuinely did not see it until today. here it is, though, and it’s extra long to make up for it. hope you like it. xx

also available on ao3

“Your bed head is really cute.”

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

Luke has always had messy hair. No matter how often he tries to fix it throughout the day, somehow a few minutes later it always looks dishevelled again. But here’s the thing. Reggie loves Luke’s messy hair. He would never admit it, of course, but the messier Luke’s hair is, the more he enjoys watching him. So, naturally, he’s also taken it upon himself to ruffle it whenever he gets a chance. Luke always swats his hands away, shoves him, and glares as he tries to fix it again, but Reggie merely laughs and definitely does not think about how cute Luke looks. Luke is his friend and Reggie loves messing with him. That’s all, honestly. It’s all fun and games until Reggie wakes up next to him for the first time, anyway. 

His parents were fighting again, so Reggie snuck out in the middle of the night and showed up at the first place that came to mind. Luke’s. And Luke hugged him, didn’t make him talk, and they listened to music together until they fell asleep. Together. In Luke’s bed. 

So, Reggie is a little disoriented when he wakes up with his head somehow nestled under Luke’s arm, one of his own slung around his friend’s waist. He feels something flutter in his chest when he realises, and it gets even worse when he notices how warm and comfortable he is. He never thought about sharing a bed with Luke before, and much less waking up next to him, but he finds that he actually made it through without any nightmares for once, instead feeling like he is exactly where he should be, which hasn’t happened in a very long time. It’s nice. 

Luke blinks his eyes open shortly after, grinning the moment he spots Reggie, who still has his face squished against a pillow under Luke’s arm. He hasn’t removed his own arm from Luke’s body either. 

“Morning, bro,” Luke says around a yawn, reaching out to flick Reggie’s nose. He scrunches it up, wiping a hand over it when Luke draws his hand back and laughs. He sits up to look at the time, and Reggie follows suit, his arm dropping from Luke’s waist, albeit a little regrettably. His eyes wander over his friend as Luke turns back to him to inform him that it’s just past 10am, and he can’t help it. He giggles delightedly as he takes in the way Luke’s hair looks even wilder than he has ever seen it before. Not even after a gig. It’s standing up in every direction, the strands falling into his eyes and looking twice as voluminous as usual. He looks adorable. Reggie does realise that’s an odd thought to have about your bro, but he can’t help it. 

Luke frowns, self-consciously scratching at the back of head as Reggie keeps eyeing him, giggles erupting from his chest. 

“What?” Luke asks, running a hand over his mouth. “Did I drool in my sleep or something?” 

Reggie shakes his head. 

“No. Sorry. It’s just… your bed head is really cute.” 

He blushes the moment the words leave his mouth and he can’t believe he actually said that. Surely Luke will never let him live that one down. Luke’s blush is almost more adorable than his bed hair, and Reggie figures he should probably have a good think about what exactly it is he’s feeling for Luke. It’s not normal to find your best bro quite so cute, is it? 

“Cute?” Luke asks, voice so high pitched it almost sounds like a shriek. “I’m not cute.” He pouts. 

Reggie can’t help it. How is he supposed to just shrug it off when Luke is sitting right there next to him looking like a kicked puppy that is most certainly cute, even if he tries to be all cool and intimidating most of the time. 

“Duh huh. Yeah, you are,” Reggie says, because now that it’s out he might as well just roll with it. 

“Am not,” Luke insists, and Reggie kind of really wants to kiss the pout off his face. Okay, right. He definitely needs to talk to Alex. 

In hindsight, Reggie really doesn’t know why he does it. He’s not even that impulsive of a person. If anything, Luke is the impulsive one of the two. And he’s a little horrified at himself when he leans in and kisses the tip of Luke’s nose. He blushes when he draws back, and kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole, but Luke looks so startled, his beautiful eyes so wide and his cheeks so red that Reggie feels a little comforted and manages to shrug it off with a grin. He’s done it, he can’t take it back, so he might as well pretend to be confident about it. 

Luke keeps sitting there mumbling something like “What the hell, bro?” under his breath and stares at him even as Reggie gets dressed. He really needs to talk to Alex. 

“You can close your mouth now, Luke. Otherwise you might accidentally swallow a fly or something,” Reggie says with a grin, running a hand through his hair in front of the mirror to fix his own bed head. Luke does close his mouth, but keeps sitting there looking flustered. Reggie has never seen him like that before, and it does all sorts of funny things to his chest. The mighty Luke Patterson, finally brought to his knees by Reggie Peter’s strange new impulsiveness. Huh. 

“I’m gonna go meet Alex. See you later, babe,” Reggie tells him, and he swears Luke’s jaw drops right open again. Babe? Honestly, Reggie is on fire today. 

+++

“Reg? What are you doing here? It’s 11am!” Alex says when he opens the door. Reggie half walked, half ran to get to his house, so he feels slightly out of breath. He thinks he probably looks a little disheveled as well, if Alex’s worried look is anything to go by. 

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

“Not sure,” Reggie manages to say, panting a little. “Maybe?” 

Alex narrows his eyes at him.

“Okay? Well, come in. We can talk in my room.” 

He leads Reggie inside and up to his room. Reggie feels the questions bubbling under his skin, itching to get out, so he jumps right into it as soon as Alex’s door is closed behind them. 

“Do you think Luke’s messy hair is cute?” he asks. Alex looks a little taken aback, a faint blush growing on his cheeks. 

“I mean… yeah? It’s cute enough. Why?” 

“Because I think it’s cute. But that’s not normal, is it? I mean, I think about it constantly. And this morning I woke up next to him because my parents fought last night, and— have you seen his bed head?” 

Alex tilts his head, something like recognition reaching his eyes as he watches Reggie pace as he keeps rambling about Luke’s hair. Reggie pauses for a moment to frown at him, but jumps right back in when the itching gets too bad. “So, I told him it’s cute. And I don’t know why I did that, because it’s weird, right? And Luke pouted, you know, that adorable puppy pout of his? Well, and then I found myself thinking that I would very much like to kiss it off, and that’s— I mean, that can’t be— What does it mean, Alex? I’m kinda freaking out a little bit.” 

Alex snorts, and his frown is replaced by an amused look and a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Reggie finds it a little irritating. Alex should just tell him what it all means instead of smiling like he knows something Reggie doesn’t. 

“I can see that,” Alex says dryly. Reggie wants to kick him. “Well, Reg. It sounds like you got a crush on Luke, dude.” 

Reggie doesn’t have a crush on Luke. Luke is not a girl. Therefore Reggie can’t have a crush on him. Can he? No, wait. That’s a stupid thought to have. Alex is a boy who exclusively has crushes on other boys. Reggie thinks it over for a moment. He remembers Luke’s hair. He remembers sleeping in his arms. He remembers his pout, and his big hazel eyes. He also remembers his voice, and the way he gets all excited when he writes music. Or worse, when he plays his guitar on stage. Okay. So he does have a crush on Luke. That’s new. And interesting.

“Oh,” he says. “I have a crush on Luke? Oh my god! I have a crush on Luke! I’m gay, too?” 

Alex chuckles fondly. Reggie is a little offended about his amusement while he’s having a sexuality crisis, thank you very much. 

“I don’t think you are, bro. You still like girls, don’t you?” 

Reggie thinks that over for a moment as well and comes to the conclusion that yes, he definitely does. 

“Yes. But how can that…?” 

Alex shrugs. 

“You can like whoever you want, Reg. Like Bowie. He says he’s bisexual, because he likes both men and women.” 

Reggie’s eyes light up. Like Bowie? He’s like David Bowie? Well, that’s pretty neat, he thinks. 

“I didn’t even know that was a thing!” he says, smiling delightedly. “I’d love to be more like Bowie. Ha! Bowie, man!” 

Alex smiles happily, getting up from his bed to pull Reggie into a hug. 

“I’m glad you told me, bro. Finally someone to talk about boys with!” 

Reggie laughs. He likes that prospect. 

“Oh my god! Yes. Thank you for helping me figure it out, Alex. I’m a little terrified, I think, but it’s cool. I’ve got you.” 

Alex shoves him playfully, his eyes searching Reggie’s as he puts his knowing grin back on. 

“So what are you gonna do about Luke?” he asks. In his excitement, Reggie has almost forgotten about him. Even though Luke is the sole reason why he’s at Alex’s in the first place, and Luke generally doesn’t have a tendency to leave Reggie’s mind for extended periods of time.

“Luke! That’s right. Oh. Well… you think he might like me back?” 

Reggie isn’t so sure. They couldn’t all like boys, could they? He isn’t sure why he thinks that, though. And Luke blushed rather adorably earlier, after all. 

“I think your chances are better than you think,” Alex says, and Reggie swears he knows something he doesn’t again, “You gotta tell him, dude!” 

Reggie hums. 

“I mean… he did get really flustered when I accidentally kissed him on the nose this morning,” he muses. Alex raises his eyebrows at him. 

“You accidentally…” He snorts. “Only you, Reg.” 

+++

Luke is already at the studio when Reggie arrives for practice that afternoon. Alex and Bobby aren’t there yet, and Luke blushes the moment he sees Reggie. Grinning, Reggie walks right over to him and presses a smooch to his cheek. 

“Hi, babe,” he says casually. Luke visibly splutters, looking even more flustered than he did in the morning, and Reggie absolutely revels in it. 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Luke squeaks, nearly dropping his guitar as he tries to place it on its stand. Reggie shrugs. 

“Because I like it. And you are. A babe, I mean.” 

Luke looks like his head is about to explode, he’s blushing that hard. It’s the funniest thing Reggie has ever seen, because Luke Patterson is nothing if not confident. His nonchalance, however, is nowhere to be found now. 

“Wh— what?” 

Reggie grins and steps closer, right into Luke’s space. Their noses are almost touching, and Luke’s eyes are impossibly wide when Reggie meets them. He can feel his breath on his lips. 

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” he asks. He doesn’t know when he became the confident one between the two, but he’s enjoying it way more than he should, probably. 

“What?” Luke squeaks again, and Reggie really has to force himself to hold back until Luke gives his consent. Reggie doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Why?” 

Reggie chuckles and nudges his nose against Luke’s. The other boy doesn’t back off, and he takes that as a good sign. 

“Because I like you, man. Very much so. And it’s not just because I think your bed head is cute, although that is a bonus.” 

Luke kisses him. Well, that was easier than he expected. Reggie’s hands come up to Luke’s hair as he kisses him back, starting out softly but quickly becoming a little more frantic as they’re both pushing and pulling at each other. It seems that Luke is regaining his confidence, and Reggie likes that just as much as he likes him all flustered. 

“You haven’t seen your bed head, babe,” Luke breathes as he pulls away after what feels like a blissful eternity. Luke emphasises the pet name, and Reggie chuckles, feeling himself blush a little for change today. 

“So, are we in love, then?” Reggie asks bluntly. He figures there is no point in beating around the bush. The more he looks at Luke looking all kissed and dishevelled, especially his hair that Reggie managed to mess up just perfectly, the more he knows that he is so in love with his best friend, and he doesn’t understand why he didn’t realise it before. 

Luke laughs out loud, looking fond as he reaches out to pat Reggie’s cheek. 

“Yes, you dork. We are so in love.” 

And then he kisses him again, and it’s the best thing in the world. They only part when Alex and Bobby appear in the studio, one of them hooting while the other makes gagging noises. Reggie doesn’t care all that much. He keeps his eyes locked on Luke for the entirety of their rehearsal, his chest fluttering when he remembers why Luke’s hair looks especially messy today, and that he’s directly responsible for it. 

It’s even better when Luke meets his eyes and smiles back at him, though.

-   End.   - 

[hotchley]

mortch having a girl, specifically hotch coming home after a bad case to see derek-with glasses ofc- holding their babygirl while reading hotch’s high school play script

Grace I am in love with your brain and I need you to write this properly, but for now, enjoy this little drabble... thing whatever, we’re going with it (and I hope you liked the other mortch headcanons!!) 

the best thing they ever did

I don’t know what else to call it and all of the songs I’ve been listening to are sad and look... either of them with a daughter is just the best thing and yeah so please be gentle

Also where in canon is this? Fuck if I know, Tara and Luke are on the team but Derek left and Jack is a teen and Hotch is retiring in a few months and like Mr Scratch the episode did happen but not the shit after?? but that’s not that important just go with it 

read on ao3! (I cannot believe I am doing this)

tw: vague crimes against children, the slightest implication of child abuse

Cases with children were always hard. But cases with children, when he had two at home and Derek wasn’t there to ground him or make everything better by simply holding his hand and drawing circles were awful.

So awful that he just wanted to bury his head in the lumpy pillow at the hotel and scream. He missed feeling Derek’s arms around him as he slept, and he missed falling asleep on his shoulder, and he missed the scent of his shower gel.

He just missed Derek. And Jack. And their little girl. He couldn’t believe he had a daughter. He had always wanted to give Jack a little sibling, but his own failures had meant that never happened.

Until it did. Just in a completely different way to what he was expecting. He lost Haley to George Foyet, yes, but he gained a new family that he thought he would never find. And he knew Haley, wherever she was, was at peace, watching over him and the loves of his life with pride and happiness.

In the end, they saved the children. Their lives would never be the same and this would stay with them forever, but they would, with the right support, recover and flourish.

He used to tell the team that saving a victim was the best thing they could do because he needed them to carry on having faith in what they did and not start doubting whether or not they made a difference because they did.

But he too had wondered whether or not it was worth it. When he thought of everything Foyet had put him through, had his life really been worth saving?

And then he saw Jack. Jack who would always miss his mother and the person she had been to him, the woman he remembered, but Jack that looked at Derek and called him Papa without feeling guilty. Jack that sometimes got angry and threw tantrums but was every bit the boy Haley had raised.

And he knew that it was all worth it. As he thought of Derek- good and kind and beautiful Derek that had stuck with him through everything and held him after Mr Scratch had forced him to see his family die- he smiled. 

Derek Morgan was the best man he knew. And every single day, every single moment, he considered himself lucky to call him his husband. He knew how difficult it was for Derek to wave goodbye each morning, knowing first-hand the horrors of the job. But Aaron only had to do a few more months before the Bureau would give him his pension.

And when that day came, he was going to retire and join Derek at the local community college, where they would teach the next generation of lawyers. Together. Like they were meant to. Because even before they had fallen in love- unwillingly and resentfully realised that actually, they did care about each other a lot- they had been partners.

But before then, he would carry on with the BAU, writing reports until his eyes started to hurt and he has to fight back tears every time he looks at the photos. This time though, his desk was suspiciously void of paperwork that wasn’t absolutely essential to the case.

When he looked into the bullpen, Emily and Luke’s piles seemed significantly bigger. Tara and Spencer also had larger piles, but those were decreasing at an incredibly fast rate. 

He smiled to himself and pulled his phone out to text Derek that he would be home sooner than expected. But as he gazed at his lock screen- subconsciously counting down the days till he could change it to the family photo- he decided he would surprise them instead.

With the knowledge that he would soon be home and in the arms of his loved one, the paperwork was slightly more bearable. It was still brutal and heartbreaking and he kept needing to pause to stop himself from sobbing, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Derek’s presence had always been more than a light, but still.

He finished before anyone else of the team, but he didn’t feel guilty leaving. They didn’t need him to hold their hands anymore. They hadn’t for a while, but Derek’s departure after the birth of their daughter- their beautiful daughter- had driven the point home.

It was why he was going to be able to leave without any regrets.

It was dark when he unlocked the front door to their home. Home. He thought he had lost that after Haley left. He never thought he would find it in Derek, but he would never stop feeling grateful that he got a second chance at a family. A second chance at being happy.

All the lights downstairs were off, so he assumed they had all gone to sleep. He checked Jack’s room and saw that he was peacefully asleep. Maybe it was the case, or the nostalgia that came with leaving, or maybe he was just a better man than his father was, but the sight of him sleeping without stirring or being haunted by nightmares bought on a wave of emotion so overwhelming he had to hold the door handle.

With every passing day, Jack looked more and more like his mother. Once upon a time, it would’ve been like a dagger to Aaron’s heart, but now it just made him smile with a fondness he hadn’t realised he was capable of.

Even though Jack wasn’t a child anymore- he was almost as tall as Hotch- he still found himself quietly entering to press a soft kiss to his forehead. He closed the door properly as he left, knowing his son would appreciate the thought in the morning.

The door to the nursery was also closed. Either she was sleeping, or Derek was still awake with her. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the second. Derek loved their daughter the way he did everything in his life: with passion, the utmost care and his entire soul.

He hesitated in the doorway of their bedroom, wanting to enjoy the sight for just a moment.

Derek, in nothing but a thin t-shirt and pair of shorts, clearly ready for bed, and glasses that he somewhat resented wearing because it reminded him that he was getting older, holding their daughter in his arms. He held her like she was the world.

And in some ways, she was.

Aaron smiled at the two of them. And then he heard what Derek was saying.

The book in front of him was not the storybook Haley had bought Jack when he was a baby. Nor was it one of the many gifts they’d received from the team.

It was the script for the Pirates of Penzance. The same one Hotch had scribbled his notes all over, so he would know exactly where he was meant to stand and when he was meant to enter and leave. He wanted to be offended, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Theatre had been the start of his and Haley’s love story. He loved that Derek was so willing to celebrate it.

“I hope you’re doing the voices right,” he quipped, as Derek started to recite the first of Pirate Number Four’s two lines.

Derek turned and Aaron was still so taken aback by how stunning he was that whatever he was going to say died on his lips. He smiled slightly, trying to not give away how much the case had affected him.

“I thought you could use something good today. Em told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

Not today. Tomorrow he would, but tonight he was going to love his daughter and fall asleep in Derek’s arms. So he shook his head and went over to the two of them.

His daughter babbled and smiled at him, wrapping her little hand around his finger.

“Hello darling,” he cooed. “Did Papa make you stay up for me? Or did you do that yourself?”

Derek laughed, a joyous and warming sound. “She did that herself. In fact, she almost woke Jack up with her screaming. I think she knew her daddy would be home today. Didn’t you?”

Aaron smiled as she carried on smiling at the two of them. “Thank you for staying up. I know I’m back earlier than usual, but it’s still late.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Derek said, still rocking the baby in his arms. She was a beautiful baby. And one day, she would be an amazing, strong and vulnerable woman. But for now, she was his little girl.

“I know. But I want to,” Aaron said in response. “Did she really almost wake up Jack?”

“Yep. She wanted to be held, and then I thought I would read to her, and I remember getting this out for Jack earlier. It just felt right. Haley had so many lines, how she remembered all of them is beyond me.”

“She was ethereal on that stage,” he said. But thinking of Haley didn’t hurt now. It hadn’t for a while. JJ had been right. He was happy.

“I’m going to change out of this suit,” he said, after a few moments of silence passed. Derek nodded, not even moving to put her back in her crib. When Aaron returned wearing Derek’s old pyjamas, he was still rocking her gently.

“You’ve never looked quite so beautiful as you do when you hold her,” he confessed quietly.

Derek smiled, passing her over. “And you never look as relaxed as you do when she’s in your arms.”

He laughed, then responded with: “Gas.”

Derek rolled his eyes in that fond way he always did, but he laughed along nonetheless. And when Aaron’s eyes started to droop, he took the now sleeping baby from his arms and went to the nursey.

As he set her down, he brushed his lips across her forehead, wishing her a peaceful sleep. 

“Goodnight, Penelope Haley Hotchner-Morgan. Have the sweetest dreams,” he said, leaving the door slightly open so some of the light could get in.

Aaron had fallen asleep in the few minutes he had been gone for, on top of the duvet and with his feet dangling off the end of the bed. Derek smiled at his sleeping figure from the door, wondering how anyone could look so sweet as they slept.

Derek moved him to be under the covers, having done it enough times to know how to do it without waking him up. When Aaron’s breathing remained even, he breathed a sigh of relief and climbed in on the other side.

As if he just knew, Aaron rolled over, burying his head in Derek’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his husband, feeling like home was perfect once more.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part 18 of ??)

Hey everyone! I 'm probably going to get the rest of this chapter out... Friday? My brain just won’t focus today and I wanted to get something out today :)

If you are new here and want to read from the beginning, here is the link for Part One. I also have links to all the parts on my Masterlist, which is pinned to the top of my page :)

Taggles: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman​ (If you want to be added to the tags list, please just ask to be added below or you can always DM me :) )

Satan/F!Mc

Word Count: 3,172

TW: angst

“I have just done the impossible,” Mc announced, feeling very satisfied.

“Huh?” Satan asked, blinking as he put his book down.

Mc sighed, and flopped on him dramatically, “I just went to petition for our son to stay from the evil overlord, and you couldn’t even greet me for my victorious return?”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll never guess what just happened in… Wait… He agreed to it?!”

Mc beamed up at him, holding a paper, “He just asks that you sign this to lay some ground rules down.”

“I knew he’d do something like this,” Satan huffed, folding his arms, “It’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

“Well, not to play devil’s advocate,” Mc laughed a bit at the expression, “But you did fill the house with cats last time you were allowed to have one. I can understand his… reservations on the subject.”

Satan frowned, looking away from her, “So, even you agree with him?”

“Well, obviously not about everything. Otherwise I wouldn’t be trying to make him let us keep Leo. I can sympathize with not wanting your house overrun with animals. Especially when you’ve already got so many trouble makers already in the house… Am I wrong?” she asked at his frown.

Satan sighed, “I guess not.”

“Just think of it this way. If you can prove to Lucifer you can be responsible and take care of Leo, you might be allowed to keep another cat down the road.”

“You need to stop making such good points Mc,” Satan huffed a laugh, his irritation gone.

“Hmmm… I think I need to continue to make great points actually. Okay, while you look over the contract to make sure Lucifer doesn’t have something up his sleeve, I’m going to go tell Leo the good news.”

“He was upstairs last time I checked,” Satan called over his shoulder as Mc went off in search of the cat. She took the stairs two at a time, having gotten used to climbing them since Leo came into their life. Coming to the top, her eyes scanned the area for him, “Leo! Leo, where are you?”

A small meow announced the presence of said cat, coming out of nowhere, as usual. He started twining between Mc’s legs, looking up every once in a while to meow at her. Once she stopped, Mc laughed, picking him up. He adjusted his paws until he was hugging her as usual, purring the whole time, “Oh baby boy, did you miss me? I know I missed you. But, you’ll never guess! Lucifer said you could stay. Daddy’s looking over the rules right now to make sure they’re acceptable, but after that you’ll be able to stay here! No more roaming the streets in search of your next meal, though you’ll be allowed out obviously. You just have to promise you’ll come back,” Mc started scratching between his shoulder blades, eliciting an even louder purr, “Oh, it’s been awhile since I had a cat. I forgot how soothing purring is,” then whispering conspiratorially, “You’ll be so good for Satan. Speaking of which, let's go downstairs and see him.”

Satan was frowning slightly at the document, his reading glasses having materialized out of nowhere. Mc was sure he didn’t actually need them, seeing as how he was a near immortal being, and suspected he only used them as a tool for intense studying, but she was never going to complain. He looked so good with them on. She shifted Leo to one arm, and took out her phone to snap a photo of Satan. She loved that they had a relationship where they could just snap photos of each other without the other thinking it was weird.

Satan looked up at the camera sound, and reached for his polaroid, “Say cheese.”

Mc laughed, posing with Leo. The photo soon emerged, and Satan smiled as he watched the photo start emerging, “Another one for the drawer.”

“So, what’s the verdict?” Mc asked, coming closer to stand next to Satan. Leo wiggled a bit, so she put him in Satan’s lap, where he circled a couple times before curling into a ball.

“It seems… reasonable enough at first glance. I’ll have to go over it in more detail later, but I think you did it.”

Mc grinned and threw her arms over the back of Satan’s chair, giving him a hug from behind, “I’m so glad. Not only does Leo get a home, now you have someone to keep you company while I’m back at home.”

Satan’s hands grabbed her arms, pulling them even tighter to himself, “Do you really have to go?”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she smiled, kissing the top of his head, “I could never stay away from you for too long. Plus, I need to make sure to keep Diavolo happy. Otherwise I won’t be able to return at all.”

“I should petition him to let me go with you.”

“You have a job to do down here, Darling. Plus, I don’t want to see what would happen if you got stuck in rush hour traffic. I think you might be able to come visit me though.”

Satan sighed, kissing Mc’s hand, “Only if Lucifer allowed it.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to convince him,” Mc smiled, moving down to kiss Satan’s cheek, his soft hair tickling her nose. 

He turned his head, eyes soft, a little smile gracing his lips, “Just don’t stay away for too long.”

“I promise,” Mc smiled, looking straight into the eyes.

~~

Mc awoke a bit abruptly, though it wasn’t unpleasant. That was until a wave of loneliness suddenly crashed down, causing her eyes to open, though they were reluctant. The soft light in the room allowed her eyes to adjust rather quickly, revealing the demon she’d been dreaming about, “Mnh, Satan?” He was standing closer to her than she would’ve expected. She extended her arm, to grab at his hand, “Is that you?”

“It is,” he answered softly, accepting her hand in his. The loneliness instantly disappeared, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Mc relaxed instantly, “Mmmm… No. It was a really nice dream actually.”

“I’m sorry you had to wake up then.”

“Mmmm, is okay. It’s nice to wake up and have you here,” she answered truthfully, sleep turning her filter off.

Satan’s eyes went wide, and his grip on her hand tightened and then went rigid, “Really?”

“Mmmhmm,” she answered, closing her eyes.

“Hey. You probably shouldn’t fall asleep again. It’s getting kind of late and you still need to get back to the castle.”

“I can’t just stay here?” Mc asked, yawning loudly, “I don’t want to go back. I like it here.”

”I’m afraid not. I don’t think Luke or Michael would like that very much.”

“... I guess you’re right,” Mc sighed, forcing herself to sit up. The blanket on her body fell down, and she frowned at it, her sleep addled brain trying to think, “Did I grab a blanket?”

“Oh, that was me. I know my room can get pretty chilly so I wanted to make sure you weren’t too cold.”

Mc blinked at the kindness, her brain clearing, “Oh my… I fell asleep. I’m so sorry! I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I promise it’s not because it was boring or anything. It was really lovely actually. I hope-”

“Hey, hey. Please don’t worry yourself Mc. I feel honored you trust me enough to fall asleep in my presence,” he smiled kindly.

Mc felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked down, “Still. It’s rude to fall asleep when spending time with someone.”

Satan chuckled and squoze her hand, “You can fall asleep around me if you’d like. You really don’t have to worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. If I’d had a problem with it I would have woken you up earlier.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course Mc,” Satan smiled again, and Mc felt her heart jolt a bit, “We should probably get you back to the castle soon.”

“R-Right.”

~~

Mc sat at her desk, writing in the notebook usually reserved for her art ideas. She’d need to get a new one soon, but this would have to do for now. Now that she’d had time to think everything through, she was starting to piece something together. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she had the feeling it would lead to what she’d been searching for this whole time. 

Let’s see, there’s all these dreams… Though, should they even be called that? Are they prophecies? It’s not deja vu, as the situations don’t feel like they’re repeating. Just a sense of familiarity. I might even be able to write it all off as a dream if it weren’t for the fact that Satan’s room was the same as that other dream I’d had, and I’d never been there before. There’s obviously something going on and I need to figure out what it is. Mc looked down at the sheet in front of her realizing she’d been drawing the whole time she’d been thinking. She was a bit flustered when she saw it was Satan when he’d been holding her hand. She shut her notebook, that strange feeling when Satan had smiled at her earlier flitting around in her chest. She had written off the feeling as residual embarrassment combined with relief that he wasn’t upset. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts, “Mc. Are you in there?”

“Just a moment Diavolo,” Mc called out, putting her notebook under her pillow. She felt the strong need to hide what she was doing, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.

She opened the door to his wide smiling face, “I was wondering if you would like to join me in a game of chess?”

“Oh. Sure, if you want. I’m not very good at it though.”

“That’s alright. After all, how is someone supposed to get better at something if they don’t practice?”

“Very true. I just didn’t think you’d be interested in playing against someone who’s not at your level.”

“Who’s to say I’m above your level?”

“Well, generally when people own a chess set they’re above my level,” Mc smirked.

“Fair enough,” Diavolo laughed, gesturing for Mc to follow him.

~~

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“That, not only are you a gracious winner, but that you’re even more skilled at this game than I first thought. It takes skill to bring your playing down to novice level without making “mistakes”.”

Diavolo chuckled, moving another piece, “I wouldn’t say you’re a novice. You’re doing quite well.”

“I’d have to disagree with you there, but thank you anyway.”

“If I’m as skilled as you say, wouldn’t I be better qualified to assess your skill level than yourself?”

“I suppose,” Mc hummed, wondering what Diavolo was getting at.

“Satan is pretty talented when it comes to chess as well.”

Mc paused in moving her piece, “Is that so?”

“Yes. He’s probably the most tenacious player I’ve ever met. Though he’s never beat me, he’s gotten very close before.”

“Ah.”

“That attitude is what made him who he is. His desire to grow and learn is one of his defining characteristics. Though it’s probably not a fair comparison, he has grown and continues to grow the most out of all his brothers.”

“Why would you say it’s not fair?”

“Because they already had defined personalities when they Fell. Certain characteristics were obviously enhanced or repressed turning from angels to demons, but they’re essentially the same beings.

“Satan is a different story. Though he came from Lucifer and has memories of the Celestial Realm, all he really was in the beginning was wrath, the most literal embodiment of his sin I could imagine. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve never met another being like him. He is truly unique. I watched all the brothers adjust to their sin, figuring out how they would represent their sin. They’ve all struggled in their own way, but Satan’s struggle is of a different kind. He’s had to learn how to go against everything he was to become something more.

Which brings me back to my point: It’s probably not fair to compare his growth to his brothers, but he continues to grow and learn from his mistakes, while the others seem to have… stagnated a bit.”

Mc nodded as she surveyed the gameboard, though her thoughts were more on their conversation. She had so many questions about Satan, many ones she didn’t feel she could ask him...

“So, anything else on your mind?”

“Only if you’re offering answers.”

Diavolo looked Mc straight in the eyes, “Ask away.”

Mc blinked a couple times, “Umm… Of course I can’t think of anything really pressing now.”

“What’s the first question that comes to mind?”

“Well, I guess since we were talking about it, what was his last period of intense growth?”

Diavolo cocked his head, “Interesting question. Besides right now?... Though it’s not a happy memory, probably the grieving period after she died.”

“Do you mean the girl he wrote the song for? Mammon told me a little bit about it.”

“How much did he tell you?” Diavolo asked slowly, eyes searching hers.

“I would guess the basics? He said he’d loved a human, and after she passed away, he played the song one last time and then said he’d never play it again, but then he did at the dinner party. He also mentioned he hadn’t dated anyone before or since her.”

“I suppose those are the basics,” Diavolo sighed, moving another piece on the board.

“Can… Will… You tell me about her?” Mc asked, the question feeling more important than it had when Mammon had first mentioned it.

“Hmmm… I think my hands might be tied wen it comes to that question,” Mc felt an unexpected wave of disappointment wash through her at his answer, “But, I sense there’s more to that question than what you asked.”

“I… Maybe?” Mc answered, her reaction shocking her. Even so, she couldn’t dispel the feeling.

“What made you ask the question?”

“I… It seems important,” was the only thing Mc could think to answer with.

Interesting. Well, checkmate, and with that, it’s time for me to head to bed. Goodnight Mc.”

“Oh, you’re right. Goodnight,” Mc answered, though her thoughts were far from the game that sat in front of her.”

~~

Mc sighed for what felt like the eightieth time that night. What could Diavolo have meant by all that? He was obviously hunting at something. The problem is, I’m not sure what it is. Though, why do I care about her? It seems more than me just being concerned for Satan’s well being. He’s obviously feeling better about the whole situation with her, seeing as how he played that song.

Mc replayed her memory of him playing the song in question, and found herself questioning that assessment. If he truly was feeling better, wouldn’t the longing in his voice have lessened? He had laid all his feelings bare, and the truth was, he wasn’t over her.

A stab of jealousy attacked her heart, making her blink a couple times. She went back to the memory in question, only to find the whole thing tinged in the sin. She retreated further into her head, far from the feeling. She sat up, grabbing the glass of water from her bedside table, hands shaking. As she tried to put it back down, her fingers loosened too much and she almost ended up spilling the rest of the water. Sighing the eighty-first time that night, she grabbed the book off the table, opening it and trying to drown out her feelings.

~~

“Is there something wrong with the food?” Barbatos asked, stepping forward to refill Luke’s glass with whatever tea he’d decided on serving them.

“Everything tastes great. I’m just not hungry this morning,” Mc smiled weakly, before returning to pushing the food around her plate. Attempting to make the butler feel better, she took a bite of the pride cake he’d prepared. It had actually become a favorite of hers, much to the delight of Diavolo who couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Today however, it reminded her more of glue than anything else.

“Are you feeling alright Mc??” Michael asked, “You’ve seemed… off these past couple days.”

“I just haven’t been able to sleep lately,” Mc answered, “I’ve just hit a snag in my art.”

“Maybe you should take some time off today then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I have the day free, and I’ve wanted to talk to you about something,” Michael tried again.

“Actually, I’m just going to head out to clear my head.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, “Well, I do need to talk to you sometime soon.”

“Sure,” Mc answered, relieved he wasn’t going to push the situation further.

~~

Mc wandered aimlessly, willing the sounds of the Devildom to drown out her thoughts, but she seemed to have opened some sort of floodgate in her thoughts. Angels were known for their extreme restraint when it comes to their own feelings. During the process of becoming an angel, there was a sort of damper that was put on their feelings. Supposedly it could be turned on or off at will like a switch. Many angels went their whole existence without turning the switch off. Mc had seen Simeon when his had been off, usually when he was writing, so she knew it existed. She also had some control over her switch, but she had a feeling hers didn’t work quite as well as other angels. She’d theorized that’s why she could create art as readily as she did, and why it seemed humans related more to her art than her fellow angels. When she was younger, she figured it would develop more once she got older. It hadn’t however. She might have had an easier time covering up how she actually felt, but the control wasn’t there.

Now however, it seemed like she had no control over it, relying on outside influences to help her from feeling like she was losing her mind. Among her newfound jealousy at center stage, she could feel her anger at Michael hiding in the eves of her mind. There was also a confusion that seemed to be seeping into everything else she did and was, lighting the whole scene. She had no idea what had changed, but she wished it would stop. She was getting a headache. No wonder humans sometimes went crazy.

“Mc? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out to her.

“Hey Mammon. What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ got outta RAD for the day. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, I’m… trying to clear my head.”

“So wha’s botherin’ ya?”

“What?”

“You’re havin’ a hard time right? I can see it all written all over your face,” Mammon smiled kindly, “Come get some ice cream with me.”

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

Hehe ^_^

Part Eighteen and a Half

[aknosde]

Okay, you know earlier this week when I dropped a paragraph of a fic? I actually finished it, and the end isn’t the best so I’m posting it here and not on AO3.

Loneliness - (featuring my HoH Percy and Clarisse head cannons)

TW for attempted self harm and a generally bad mental space

Percy’s never really had a mentor. When he was young he was put in a few organizations as a mentee. The type of organizations that are supposed to make things easier on kids like him, brown and black kids with “authority problems”. They never really clicked though, sometimes it was him, a lot of the time it was the supposed mentor. He had never cared much, it’s not like they could help him in a way that mattered.

Then there was Luke. Luke who was tall and strong and quick and really, really, really good with a sword. Maybe some of it was a crush, but he had never met someone who he was so encapsulated by. Luke was cool, intelligent, and good looking. He was everything Percy ever wanted and ever wanted to be.

Luke left a bitter taste in Percy’s mouth and a scar on his hand and a distaste for soda. Luke left Percy with an even quicker brain and a knot in his stomach that turned into a murder plot for his stepfather. He drew Percy in time and time again with a hatred that was laced with unrequited love and left Annabeth with blood stains on her dagger and both of them with salt stains on their cheeks and the taste of ash on their tongues.

After Luke was Beckendorf. Granted Percy had had a bit of a crush on him too. Beckendorf was pure, not in the way some white campers might call Hazel innocent. He was just kind, and genuine, and warm. Percy looked up at Beckendorf, big, strong, brave, caring, and he thought this, this is something I could do. I might not be able to be a big hero, but I can do this. I want this.

Beckendorf left Percy with no body for the shroud to cover. He left Percy with inside jokes that would never again be completed and a desire in his brain to constantly be in the forges and to keep as far away from them as possible. Beckendorf left a hole in Percy’s heart that was filled by blood and guilt. Percy looks at the acid scars on his foot with a longing for the time when Beckendorf was taken by giant ants.

And after Beckendorf there was no one. Suddenly Percy was one of the oldest campers. A war veteran. Supposedly the strongest demigod alive. He wasn’t just a counselor now, of his cabin that was solely him, he was a senior counselor. Jake Mason sat in Beck’s seat and Percy cried because suddenly he was alone.

He shouldn’t feel alone. When Annabeth holds his hand while they wait for breakfast he shouldn’t feel alone. When Grover makes enchiladas in the kitchen of the Big House and they eat them together in a field Percy shouldn’t feel alone. When Nico comes running into Percy’s cabin telling Percy that Mythomagic is apparently run by demigods and that they made a card of Nico he shouldn’t feel alone.

It only gets worse when he’s back at home. His mom goes through their normal post-quest routine. She gives him time and space and love. She takes him to the doctor’s. His old prescriptions get refilled, adderall, meperidine. Sally tries again to find a demigod therapist, to no avail. They don’t celebrate his birthday this year.

He’s at Goode without Rachel and he has no other friends. He’s never really been good at that, the whole friend thing, and now it’s practically impossible finding someone who isn’t uneasy around him. He sits in the back of his physics class and eats alone at lunch and sleeps in Paul’s office during breaks.

A teacher hands him back an essay and there’s a paperclip in the corner keeping all the pages together. There is a B+ on it with a smiley face, and Percy takes the paper clip and sharpens it and tries to scratch his skin. It doesn’t do anything. His skin still won’t break, there is just a faint redness. Only after scratching away mindlessly for weeks does he realize that he’s writing words. Last words. “Go!” “Don’t let it happen again.” “Tell him I’m sorry.”

He can fill up his schedule with school and homework and swim and skating and basketball. He can wake up in the morning and eat breakfast and take adderall and carry around the other small orange bottle waiting for his skin to revolt against him. He feels disgusting and empty. Like a demon in a suit of skin that used to be Percy. He misses two years ago when the war wasn’t looming over head, when he and Annabeth and Silena and Beck would all hang out, when he and Clarisse had weekly midnight basketball games.

Grover knows. Grover’s gotta know. For one thing, there’s the empathy link. And Grover is calling multiple times a week, and he always asks how Percy is, if he’s alright. Percy lies “I’m all good man, don’t worry. How’s work?” Then Grover goes off on a tangent about pollution or some shit he saw a human do and the way he purses his lips when he’s worried doesn’t come back until they’re hanging up.

He hates it, the lying. He’s only told lies to protect others, when he doesn’t have enough information yet, when he needs to save them. Now he is lying for himself. How fucking selfish does he have to be? But he’s so lonely, and he can’t bare to lose anyone else. It feels like the smallest step out of line will make his world crumble.

So he lies. He lies his ass off, and he doesn’t know if he’s good at it, but he could be. When Annabeth comes over one weekend, all the way from California, and she asks about the pill bottle rattling in his pocket he says that it’s adderall and she turns back to the tv. When his mom asks if he’s made new friends he says yes, and proceeds to tell a mortal version of something that he and Beck did last year.

One day Rachel comes into the city to visit her parents. They’re sitting on a bench in Central Park and he takes the paperclip out of his coat pocket and goes to work on his wrist while they talk. It’s habit by now. Rachel stops in the middle of her sentence and gently pries the paperclip from his hands and in its place she leaves a blue eyeliner pencil.

Soon his arms are covered in names and words and horrifically beautiful drawings. Blue pigment against brown skin and pink scars, all swirling together. The pencil runs out quickly, but a week later, just as he’s about to take the paperclip back out, an envelope arrives. Sitting in the bottom is a new pencil of blue eyeliner. Percy throws the paperclip in the trash.

By Thanksgiving break Percy isn’t feeling good exactly, he’s feeling mildly better. Loneliness still hits him, in pangs. He’ll be walking to lunch and he’ll have to jump in the canoe lake because he can’t handle it, and swimming is a good excuse for missing a meal.

He wakes up early in the morning and sits in Rachel’s cave waiting for her to wake up. She makes hot chocolate and points out drawings she particularly likes, and then he’ll wash his arms off ready to begin again.

Days are filled with meetings. Meetings with Chiron and meetings with other counselors, trying to make up for being away at school. When he’s not in meetings he trains. Sometimes himself, but a lot of newer or younger campers. The disarming technique he teaches throws him back to Luke and he gives the campers a five minute break hoping the feeling leaves.  

Evenings are being tossed between one person and another. Racing up the climbing wall with Annabeth and laughing at the top and sitting there for way too long. Stopping by the Aphrodite cabin where Drew will catch him up on everything he’s missed being away or being busy. He sits on the floor of the Hades cabin trying for the fifth time to understand Mythomagic.

Every night since he’s gotten back Clarisse raps on his door at two in the morning and they play one v. one on the basketball court until they end up on their backs under the stars. There’s rarely any talking. It’s dark outside and Clarisse has left her hearing aids in her cabin and he’s left his back in Manhattan. Not like he ever uses them in public.

He’s still lonely. 

Maybe Clarisse can read his mind because she taps his leg and they sit up facing each other. He can just barely see her fingers in the moonlight.

“Sometimes people can be lonely not because they are alone but because they miss someone. You have a lot of people to miss.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” He signs back.

“Oh be quiet punk.”

They both break into laughter then, before she continues.

“Miss them. As much as you fucking want. I was in love with Silena, and she died, and Drew is a bitch about it, but she has a right to be.”

Percy is struck again by how similar he and Clarisse are, their lives and their feelings and their actions. The only difference is that Clarisse grants herself the freedom to do what she wants, and he’s scared to death of doing that himself.

“But, and do not ever tell anybody I told you this, a lot of people would miss you. You can pull away and feel lonely but you can’t disappear. Annabeth needs you, Rachel needs you, Nico and Will and Drew need you. And gods fucking dammit, I need you.”

Clarisse stands and pulls him up behind her. They part ways, heading back to their cabins. Percy mulls her words over in his head as he finally drifts into sleep, his body completely and utterly exhausted. Suddenly there is a blue-gold light, and he remembers Annabeth, and then everything is dark and there’s the smell of pine.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

A Truman Show Star

PART FORTY-ONE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: major discussions of parent death/death in general, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: Ella goes to the little blue house for the last time.

Wringing her hands to keep herself from biting her nails off, Ella trudged up the front steps to Luke’s. Luckily, her old parking spot was open. It made her remember evenings when she’d come straight from visiting her aunt in New Britain. How safe the diner had always made her feel. A refuge from school and home alike. Her heart ached, traveling back into the past for just a moment. She couldn’t think of one second since her father’s death that she’d felt the least bit secure. Hopefully, Luke’s would help at least a little. But a strange, uneasy surreality flooded her as she entered the diner’s warmth. Life had gone on without her there. She noticed small changes to the place she had spent most of her youth in, slight differences in paint color, placement of certain mugs on the back display shelf, even new menus. At least the ‘No Cellphones’ sign hung behind the counter, as it always had. Ella doubted it would come down until Luke was long dead.

She didn’t take off her coat, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone for too long. Miss Patty was busy with her mid-morning tap class, Ella knew, and Babette wasn’t in sight at the diner either. Kirk must’ve been at work too. In fact, the diner was nearly empty, the transition between Friday breakfast and lunch creating a lull. She hopped up on a stool at the counter, right in front of the coffee machine. Luke was making a fresh pot, his back to her. He turned around once he had finished, coming to face her. For a moment, Ella felt a wave of relief at the sight of him. His baseball cap, his red flannel, his worn jeans. Luke hadn’t changed nearly at all over the course of her entire life. But then, an unwelcome thought about what she would do in the event of Luke’s death intruded her mind. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to think of anyone without picturing them six feet under.

Luke’s eyes widened at the sight of her. “Hey, Ella, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, fighting the urge to have any bit of emotion cross her features. “I just came to get my stuff out of the old house. Fiona’s putting it on the market pretty soon. At least, she says she is.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “You want something?”

Ella shook her head after a moment of thought. “No, thanks. I just wanted to stop in, since I was on my way by.”

“Alright,” Luke said, averting his eyes.

“What?” she asked, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Luke sighed. “Jess called me this morning.”

Swallowing dryly, Ella breathed in a deep breath. “Did he?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not coming, is he?” she asked. At some point on the drive, it had occurred to her that he might follow her to Stars Hollow, continue the conversation. But just the idea of seeing the hurt in his eyes was enough to make her stomach do a flip. She wasn’t ready to keep talking. Maybe she never would be.

A joyless smirk appeared on Luke’s face. “He told me you might ask that. No. He’s still in Philly. He just wanted to let me know you were coming, make sure you got to town safe.”

“Okay,” she said, again forcing down all her feelings, her face solemn. “I take it that’s not all he told you?”

“No,” he said, as Ella raked an anxious hand through her hair and once again tried to keep her nails away from her teeth. After a shot pause, Luke continued, trying to catch her eyes once more: “Listen, kid, it’s all gonna be okay.”

“That’s convincing,” she said with a humorless chuckle.

Again, he sighed, weary and frustrated. He readjusted his cap on his head. Eyes doing a quick scan of the diner, he found the other customers, all at tables, not listening, enjoying their food. “I know you don’t scare easy. And I know how angry being scared must make you.”

She rolled her eyes, and all of a sudden she looked just like a teenager to Luke. A teenager with no mother and not much of anything to go home to. No matter how annoyed she could make him, he cared about her more than he cared about himself.

“Don’t listen if you don’t want to, but I’ve lived a lot longer than you, Ella,” he began, curmudgeonly as ever. “Believe me, I know what’s gonna be okay and what’s not gonna be okay. And you are gonna be okay.”

“Sure,” she said, dejected but trying her best to go along with his advice session.

Luke sighed again. “Look, my mom died when I was a kid too. And then, when my dad died, I went a little bit nuts too. I spent thousands of dollars I didn’t have to open this place up. But eventually, things felt normal again. And look at me now.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, mocking. “You’re the most well-adjusted person I know.”

“Shaddup,” he scolded her affectionately. “I have no doubt in my mind that this will pass, and you’ll go back to your life just fine.”

She only nodded half-heartedly.

“Ella?”

“Yeah?” she asked, finally venturing to face him fully again.

“Jess loves you. You’re the thing he loves most in the world, as far as I can tell,” Luke said.

She swallowed harshly, looking away from the momentary eye contact she had held with him. For a second, she was worried she would cry, but she bit the inside of her cheek and focused on the pain instead of the sadness. “I know, Luke.”

At that, he decided to let it go. He’d never been the best with emotional, soul-searching chats in the first place. He smiled a bit at her in a way he hoped was reassuring. “You wanna come over for dinner tonight? Lorelai’s gonna bite my head off if I got to see you and she didn’t.”

“No, I can’t just show up like this and then eat your food,” she said immediately.

Luke only scoffed, watching as a customer began approaching the register. “You know you’re not getting out of it, kid. Dinner’s at six.”

Before she could reply, he went over to ring up some townie Ella could barely recognize. She wanted to protest further, but knew she didn’t have the energy for an argument with Luke. And, she had to admit, she couldn’t think of anything better than seeing Lorelai. For some reason, she had a deep, sorrowful longing for the Gilmore woman’s warm hugs and kooky way of approaching life, at just the mention of her name.

“Fine,” she said, as Luke came back over to grab the coffee pot and do refills.

Luke gave an affirmative grunt in response. Apparently, the conversation was over, and neither Luke nor Ella were particularly upset about that. She slung her purse back over her shoulder, hugging her peacoat around her a bit tighter as she prepared to go outside. As she passed Luke on the way out, she stopped in her tracks for a moment.

“Hey Luke?” she said.

He looked up expectantly.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, voice sincere, though his face barely softened a bit.

.   .   .

The sun would soon start to set. She looked out her old window, a view of tree branches and golden clouds. The sight made her remember the day Jess had taken her to the Met, showing up at her window. And other days, when he would climb in and her small room felt like the whole world, made special for just the two of them. Swallowing harshly, she sat down on the old carpet, back against the wall and one leg crossed over the other. On the right wall, she could still see the remnants of the last mural she’d painted through the fresh white color. The realtors hadn’t taken kindly to the artwork, Fiona had said, letting Ella in, showing her the room, and promptly leaving to go stay the night at her new apartment. She’d given Ella a kiss on the cheek before going. Ella had smiled, despite the lipstick stain she knew Fiona’s bright pink lips left. She was glad Fiona was getting away, wasn’t getting stuck. Not like Ella herself was. She focused on her breathing for a moment, and she could have sworn the room still had the faint scent of lavender candles.

She’d carved out more time than necessary to pack everything up. When she’d first moved to Lane’s, she’d only left her closet full, and a few odds and ends in the attic. Clothes she would be donating, childhood drawings she would be throwing away. The photo album was the only thing she was surprised to find. She’d forgotten about it. Maybe simply because she’d wanted to forget about it. It was the only thing she hadn’t managed to fit in the three cardboard boxes which now sat in the corner of the otherwise empty room. All she had left to do was load everything in her car and drive to Lorelai and Luke’s for dinner. And she would never see the little blue house again. No matter how much she’d disliked living there, she couldn’t shake the small part of her which wasn’t ready to lose it, let it go. Even if she’d known for a while the house would soon be gone.

Before she could think better of it, she grabbed the photo album from where it sat next to the boxes. She could have squeezed it in if she tried, but she didn’t want to risk breaking it. It was of her, her life. Her family. Her mother had made one for each of her children, adding to them all the time. A project left unfinished after her death. They’d gone away with the rest of her belongings. Had she not gone up into the attic, Ella probably would have assumed it had been thrown out years earlier. But there it was.

She ran the pad of her finger over the words on the front cover gingerly. Eleanor Mary Stevens. Heaving a deep sigh, she opened it and flicked through her early years. Her mother on the day Ella was born, long blonde hair and hazel eyes, a tiny baby in her arms. Another one, with her grandmother holding her as a baby. Ella felt for a chain around her neck without noticing. She flipped through a few more pages, and had to stop when she came across the photo of the whole family on her thirteenth birthday. The second to last before her mother’s death. They were all crowded around the small kitchen, the walls behind them painted a distinctive shade of peach. Ella’s smile was wide and naive, a big cake with candles about to be blown out sitting before her on the round table. The table where she and her father had sat for weeks, drinking, after her mother was gone. Her mother had blown up balloons, decorated a birthday banner, invited Julie and her family down for a small little surprise party. Thirteen was an important one, her mother had said. A whole new phase. It was Julie who had taken the picture, urging the five of them to squish together and fit in the frame. Ella’s mother looked arguably happier than Ella did. She’d always gone all out for birthdays.

But Ella’s mind didn’t take long to wander to the hours following the picture being taken. The dinner when her father had raised his voice over something she didn’t even remember. Ella had been feeling brave and confident, newly a teenager and high off the fanfare. She’d tried to interject, calm her father down, restore the light mood. She should have known better. He didn’t hit her, didn’t lay a hand on her. He’d yelled instead. Ella could tell, though, that he’d wanted to smack her. She could recognize how red his face got, and the particular way he spit out his words through gritted teeth. He was just so angry, for no reason at all. She hadn’t let him see her cry, of course. Later, after they’d all slunk to their rooms for the night in awkward, pained silence, she’d wept into her pillow. She never knew whether her mother had heard her, or whether she’d just sensed something was wrong. Ella could still hear the soft knock on her door, her mother’s gentle voice as she walked in.

.   .   .

“Hey, apple pie,” Sophia began, shuffling into Ella’s room and closing the door silently, carefully.

Turning on her side, facing away from her mother, Ella rolled her eyes at the nickname. She’d been stuck with it for years, since she was a little girl and was obsessed with helping her mother make holiday pies. She couldn’t help but be embarrassed by it, even when it was just the two of them. It made her feel like a kid in overalls, not a girl who was just about to start eighth grade. She was practically in high school, after all.

Frowning at her daughter’s silence, Sophia came over and sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked Ella’s messy hair. Ella tried to hide her sniffling, but was unsuccessful. Her mother was the only person she ever really openly cried in front of.

“Will you look at me?” Sophia asked, feigning a happy smile. They both knew the day hadn’t been exactly what either of them wanted.

Though she huffed in frustration, Ella sat up against the wall behind her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and wiping at her cheeks and nose. Sophia’s face softened at the sight of Ella, and she gave Ella’s knee a squeeze. Despite Sophia’s valiant attempts to get her to talk, Ella didn’t meet her eyes and remained quiet. She was struggling to stop her watery hiccups.

“You know he doesn’t mean it,” Sophia said.

Ella shook her head. Her voice was raw and unstable when she spoke. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, you didn’t,” Sophia agreed.

“And it’s my birthday,” Ella continued, new tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

“I know,” Sophia sighed, willing herself to remain positive. It wasn’t the first time she and Ella had had this talk. “Look, Ella, he’s had a hard life. Sometimes...he just doesn’t know how to handle it when he feels angry. He loves you so, so much.”

Scoffing harshly, Ella finally turned to face her mother. “Sometimes it’s kinda hard to tell.”

Looking down, Sophia nodded. “He’s working on it. Baby steps, okay? I’m sorry about today. Tomorrow, I know he’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay,” Ella said tiredly. Weeping had made her feel exhausted. She just wanted to go to sleep.

“Hey, I’m serious. Perk up,” Sophia said sternly, though Ella knew she was just teasing.

Ella gave a weak smile. “Okay. I’m just tired. You’re right. Today wasn’t so bad, anyway.”

Sophia’s smile grew. “Yeah. It was nice to see Aunt Julie, right?”

Tugging anxiously at the ends of her hair, Ella nodded. “Yeah. Good surprise. Thanks for the party, mom.”

“Sure thing, apple pie,” Sophia said. She kissed Ella good night and rose from the bed. Before she left, she gave Ella’s shoulder one last squeeze. She pointed to the candles alight on Ella’s desk. “Tomorrow will be better. I know it will.”

Snorting a laugh, Ella let her smile become just a bit more genuine. She repeated the saying she had heard her mother utter about a thousand times as they gardened together. “Mmhm. Lavender is for luck.”

“That’s right,” Sophia said with a chuckle, shooting Ella an affectionate wink. Then, she padded back out into the hall and shut the door behind her.

.   .   .

Startling at the sharp ringing of her cell phone breaking her from her reverie, Ella gasped slightly. She snapped back to the present, shutting the photo album and placing it back atop the nearest box. She leaned back against the wall, frazzled, not bothering to look at the caller ID before answering. Breathing out slowly, she blinked back the shine from her eyes.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ella,” Mabel greeted her through the line.

“Oh, hi,” Ella said dumbly, not expecting her call. Not that they didn’t talk on the phone regularly, because they did, but they also usually saw each other frequently. A cold call was a bit out of the ordinary.

“Are you feeling any better?” Mabel asked, and Ella could hear her take a quick inhale. She was probably smoking. Usually, Ella would accompany Mabel on her smoke breaks when they were hanging out, so she wouldn’t have to stand out in the cold all alone, even if Ella had been resisting the habit with relative success since the night after her father died. “I just wanted to check in. Jess said you were still too sick to come to dinner tonight.”

She cleared her throat. Apparently Jess hadn’t let them in on whatever was going on. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. I’m okay. Just still on the mend, I guess. How are things over there?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she listened as Mabel told her about the fight Chris and Matthew had gotten into over where to order takeout from. Leo had also gotten involved, apparently. Mabel laughed as she spoke, and Ella missed the sound. It was not the first time she had considered what she would be giving up if she and Jess broke up. Chris and Matthew were his business partners. She would be the one who was iced out. And she couldn’t blame any of them for it. But she was suddenly homesick not for Stars Hollow, but for Philadelphia. She missed hours spent discussing Tennesee Williams on Mabel’s couch, or playing Leo’s keyboard while he messed around with some new song and asked for her help with an accompaniment, or mocking Chris about his sweater vest obsession and receiving some witty jab in return, or debating with Matthew about the best way to achieve world peace when drunk and hopeful. Another wave of regret and sadness washed over her. She had found a new family, despite her best efforts not to.

“Alright, I’m gonna head back inside. I’m freezing my ass off out here. Do you want me to bring you up and put you on speaker so you can say hi to the guys?” Mabel asked.

“Um, no, that’s okay. I’m probably just gonna head to bed. Will you…” she began, hesitating before she continued. “Will you tell Jess I said good night? I’ll probably be asleep when he gets back.”

She couldn’t remember the last time they had spent a night apart. And she couldn’t shake her worries about him, if he had a nightmare, if he had a panic attack. Would he call her? She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back in time to help him. Concern bubbled up in her throat, but she swallowed it down. At least he was with everyone at Truncheon, having takeout. Friday nights were takeout nights, after all.

“Will do. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” Mabel said.

Ella sighed out through her nose. “Yeah.”

“Okay, love you. Get better, please.”

Biting harder on her cheek, Ella tried to ignore the smile she could hear in Mabel’s voice. She could see exactly the expression Mabel had at that moment.

“I’ll try,” Ella said.

.   .   .

Sipping her water while Lorelai drank her red wine, Ella felt her skin buzzing with nerves. Since the remodel, the Gilmore house looked completely different to Ella. The changes hadn’t been especially big, just some new wallpaper here, a fresh decoration there. But she missed the little things only she and the other people who had been in the right place at the right time could remember. There were no longer pencil marks in the guest room’s closet wall from when Rory and Ella were practicing their signatures. Dreaming of the days when they would be signing autographs, Rory a famous journalist and Ella a famous artist. She missed the reddish stain on the kitchen ceiling from when Lorelai had dropped a bottle of ketchup at just the right angle and the condiment had spewed up in a stream. They were there in her memory, but gone in her reality. Everything had changed, and she had hardly noticed until it was all different. It was too late.

“So, Michel finally made the exterminator sign this contract he drew up, promising no mouse would ever be found on the premises again,” Lorelai said, finishing her saga of a mouse recently wreaking havoc at the Dragonfly.

Ella snorted halfheartedly. “Well, I hope for the exterminator’s sake it’s not legally binding.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already mysteriously lost it,” Lorelai said with a conspiratorial wink.

Laughing along with her, Ella let her eyes linger on the red wine as Lorelai brought it to her lips. She didn’t want it, not really. But she knew how much better she would feel if she drank it, if she could get her thoughts to quiet down for just a little while. The thought made her grip the edge of the table momentarily, before it passed. She missed the feeling of Jess’s hand in hers, squeezing it, reassuring her. And then anger rose up inside her for missing him. Lorelai cleared her throat, breaking Ella from her daze.

“Oh, sorry,” Ella said, flushing with embarrassment.

Lorelai’s brows furrowed in concern and she sighed, preparing to finally address the elephant in the room. They hadn’t really discussed anything serious over dinner, keeping the conversation light while they ate some chicken made by Luke. He’d gone to bed a few minutes earlier, the night darkening past nine. The next day saw early morning deliveries and he had no intention of being sleep-deprived for a Saturday shift. Besides, Lorelai had formed the game plan before Ella even came over, after Luke told her why Ella was in Stars Hollow in the first place. She’d known the girl long enough, and through enough, to have an inkling of how she dealt with things.

“Sweetie?” Lorelai said.

Ella hummed, tilting her head at Lorelai in askance.

“What’s been going on with you?” Lorelai asked earnestly, a sympathetic glint in her sparkling blue eyes.

Chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, Ella looked down into her water. Then, she looked back up with tears stinging her eyes. And her words came out in a husky, rough whisper. “I don’t know.”

Lorelai nodded. “That’s okay, Ella. But you can’t ignore this. I know you want to, but I just don’t think it’s gonna work this time.”

“Why not? It’s worked so well in the past,” Ella said with a sardonic laugh, sniffing and trying to blink back her tears. She willed herself not to cry in front of Lorelai. She would not be a woman in her mid-twenties crying over a boy with her friend’s mother. Not even if the boy was the love of her life.

“But has it?” Lorelai asked doubtfully.

Taking in a deep breath, Ella swallowed thickly. “I just...I don’t want to lose him.”

“If you break up with him, I’m pretty sure you’ll lose him, sweetie,” Lorelai said, her tone hushed with gravity.

“Well, obviously, I know, but…if I have to lose him, then at least it’ll be on my own terms,” Ella continued, feeling squirmy and embarrassed speaking to Lorelai so openly. She had confided in Lorelai in her teen years, but for so long Jess had been the only one to hear about the inner workings of her mind.

Lorelai nodded, thinking.

“I’m just...I’m so fucking mad,” Ella admitted, shaking her head. She scoffed at herself, at how childish her own words sounded.

“Why?” Lorelai asked simply.

“Because when my mom died, it just ruined...it ruined everything. It killed my dad, it killed my brothers. She...it ruined everything,” Ella said.

Frustration brewed in her gut as she spoke. She didn’t want to be mad at her mother. It wasn’t her fault she had a heart condition. It wasn’t her fault she died. But, for whatever reason, Ella couldn’t help the sick rage in her stomach. If her mother hadn’t died, her father wouldn’t have started drinking again, maybe. And then he wouldn’t have crashed his car. And she wouldn’t have felt so terrified about Jess. She wouldn’t be so utterly exhausted, so drained from the grief. And it was easier to be mad at her mother than at the whole world.

“But it didn’t kill them,” Lorelai insisted. “And it didn’t kill you. You’re allowed to be happy, Ella. You are.”

Bottom lip trembling, Ella looked away from Lorelai. “No.”

Lorelai sighed heavily, hoping to make her see. “Not everything in your life is going to be a beginning and an end. You deserve a middle. Let yourself have a middle.”

Ella blew out a shaky breath, but didn’t speak.

“You told me at Thanksgiving that you had everything you wanted. And I saw it. I saw you there with Jess, with your art. You can have that. Don’t stop yourself from having it because you’re scared and you don’t think you deserve it.”

Ella’s stomach did a flip and she fiddled with her hair to keep herself from crying. Somehow, Lorelai had always been able to get to the root of her problems, to see things as they were. Maybe it was because both of them had grown up earlier than other people. Biting at her cheek, Ella let her mind drift back to Jess, to the way he made her feel. She had been in love with him for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like not to be. To not instantly feel at home when she heard his voice, to not relax at his touch, to not feel her heart fluttering each time he smiled at her, like she was still sixteen.

Sixteen. She’d been mixed up then as she was now. And she had gotten herself through it on her own, but she would have been lying if she said Jess didn’t help. Jess showed her what it was to live with intensity again, with passion. To let herself feel the deepest things and not be afraid. Her mind wandered back to her walk over to the Gilmore house a few hours earlier, as the January sun was setting. The air was freezing, but it felt only right to walk, since she’d just been inside the little blue house for probably the last time. For old time’s sake. She’d left her key on the kitchen counter. She didn’t know the next time she would be back in Stars Hollow. She wanted to say goodbye to the town, in case she didn’t get to later. Passing over the bridge, she’d spotted two red cardinals flying around in the dusky light of the evening. One was chasing the other, and then they would switch. A lively dance. They were so vivid against the dull blanket of winter. They reminded her of the way she was with Jess, the way they were together.

Sniffing again, Ella nodded. She locked eyes with Lorelai, sincere. “Okay.”

Lorelai let a soft smile across her lips, and pressed a kiss to the top of Ella’s head as they said goodnight.

.   .   .

Driving so early in the morning, with Stevie Nicks on the radio, made her feel like she should be smoking a cigarette. Usually, it would take Ella less than four hours to make it back to Philly from Stars Hollow. But the frigid ice made the roads slick, and she was forced to go much slower than normal. Her lips were bluish with cold as she bit at her nails, the cloudy sky lightening to a murky pink. It was half past five and her eyes were heavy, but her body was wired with energy. After her chat with Lorelai, Ella had made a decent effort to actually get a good night’s sleep. She just couldn’t get Lorelai’s words out of her head, and her thoughts of Jess. She’d started up her Station Wagon just a little after midnight.

A middle was something she hadn’t considered. Truly, she hadn’t. She felt so silly. But it hadn’t occurred to her that she and Jess were just beginning. Their middle was coming. Maybe sooner than she had realized. For so long, she had been expecting the worst, even when she wasn’t. It was always there, in the back of her mind, whispering at her not to let her guard down, not to get comfortable. Not to feel love. Ella knew she couldn’t change overnight, and she felt like she was going to throw up just thinking about facing her fears. But Jess was right, as much as she hated to admit it. If she worked hard enough, she could feel better. She knew she could.

So, there was a scribbled note left on Lorelai and Luke’s fridge and she sat bleary-eyed in her driver’s seat. As she pulled up in front of the apartment building, small flurries began to fly down on her windshield, glistening in the muddled sunlight. She trudged up the stairs, trying to stay quiet in her dirty snow boots. But her feet seemed leaden in her exhaustion and she felt bad for her neighbors. She bit at the insides of her cheeks as she ascended the stairs with her suitcase in hand. Tears were welling in her eyes, and for once, she couldn’t bring herself to hold them back. She let them drip down her cheeks, which had just begun to pink up in the warmth of the building.

When she got to the door, she fumbled with her keys, her hands shaky. At first, she had the instinct to knock, before she remembered it was her own house. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. So much, she thought, and then let a bitter laugh slip from her lips. She really was exhausted. Just before she could stick her key in the lock, the door opened for her. Jess stood on the threshold, disheveled. His hair was mussed up and she could tell he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Soon, he’d have a full beard. His eyes were reddish and she could tell he had just woken up.

She swallowed dryly, dazed. She was aware she was still crying, but hardly knew why. She dropped her suitcase next to her, and her keys jangled to the ground as well. She raked both hands through her hair and sniffled.

“Hi,” she began, her voice weak and watery. “How’d you know I was here? Am I the star of the Truman Show or something?”

He shrugged, letting a sad smirk cross his face and then fade immediately. “I heard you.”

She furrowed her brows. “Well, you should’ve brought a bat or something. What if I was a murderer?”

Again, the joyless smirk. “I was in the kitchen making coffee and you laughed. I could tell...it was your laugh.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding. She scoffed self-consciously. “Yeah. I didn’t really sleep and I guess I’m kinda punch drunk. But I um...I just...had to come home.”

“You did?” he asked, keeping his voice even. If he sounded too hopeful, then he might be hopeful. And he couldn’t have that. But she’d said she would be back on Sunday, and it was only Saturday morning. Surely, that had to be a good sign.

“I did,” she said, then her face crumpled and she uttered a little whimper. She looked down at her shoes, stomach swirling with embarrassment. Then, she looked back up to face him and sniffled again. “I was just really fucking scared. I’m sorry, Jess.”

His face softened and he nodded, watching as she put her head in her hands to hide her face. Silent sobs overtook her.

“I know. I know,” he said gently, then wrapped her up in his arms.

She cried into his chest.

“It’s nothing for you to be sorry over, alright?” he said, leaning back slightly and taking her face in his hands. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not okay!” she exclaimed, pulling away from him, speaking earnestly through her tears. “I can’t believe I said I wanted to leave! I’m such a fucking coward. We said we would always try, and I wasn’t fucking trying! And I’m just-”

“Eleanor, honey, just take a deep breath,” he said, running his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to relax her. “We can figure this out. You and me.”

“But you don’t have to-”

“Hey, Daria,” he began calmly, taking her suitcase and her keys from the floor beside her, “just come in and get some sleep. We’ll talk about it when you wake up, okay?”

She eyed him for a moment through a blurry, watery haze. “Do you promise?”

For the first time all morning, his tiny smile held the hint of something pleasant. “I promise.”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Refuse to be a Named Character Pt 6

Hey Everyone I’m back! New job has definitely kicked my butt, but I’m kicking back! I’m going to try to write more and maybe post smaller updates in the meantime! So probably another part or two to finish off this tale! 

Master post linked here! 

Enjoy!

________________________________

“The others are fighting for all the advantages they can get prior to the first party tonight.” 

The masked servant knelt on the cold floor without any sign of discomfort, reporting in a dispassionate tone. His master sat on the windowsill, staring out into the gardens, a single finger tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass.

“How many keys do my brothers control?” Luke’s voice was cold, as if he didn’t care much about the answer that every nobleman in the city would give all their possessions to know.

“None. Prince Graham’s mother has bought over some relations of the third, fifth and eighth Lords, and Prince Fetter has been blackmailing every servant in the city, but the Ten Lords themselves have not given their loyalties to any prince.“

“Holding out for the highest price?” Luke sneered, his eyes searching the gardens as he spoke. “I can’t imagine those greedy old men having any notions of loyalty or fairness.” 

The servant bowed his head silently.

“So it will actually depend on the three parties? My father should be pleased that his final test will be carried out so well.”

“… Your Highness?” The servant hesitated a long moment before finally speaking up. “Why are you participating in this ridiculous trial? It’s a complete farce! With your forces…”

“It is none of your concern.” The chill in his voice seemed to freeze the air between them. 

“…Very well, Your Highness.”

“She still sees something worthwhile in me.” He muttered quietly. “I won’t betray that.” His eyes caught a glimpse of a figure walking along one of the garden’s pathways through the glass, and his gaze softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s end it here.”

“…” The masked servant didn’t move, staying in his kneeling position. Although his expression couldn’t be seen, his discomfort could be felt as he fidgeted in place. As the silence dragged on, Luke reluctantly looked away from the person in the gardens, turning towards the masked man with a frown.

“What is it? Something important?”

“I’m… not sure.” The man’s brows knitted together. “It’s a little… unusual more than anything.”

Luke waved a hand. “Well? Go ahead.”

“There’s been a… movement? A religion?” He shook his head. “Perhaps ‘cult’ would best describe it… spreading amongst the servants and craftsman in the capital.”

“I see.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “And why is this my concern?”

“Well, partly because the majority of your servants have taken part… but also because of its source.” The servant looked away from the prince’s gaze, uncomfortable. “You see… it’s a peculiar belief system, that states that by casting off one’s name and identity, one can avoid the deadly trouble and world and live a happy life.”

“…” Staring at the kneeling man for a few stunned moments, Luke couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh loudly. “How many have joined this cult?”

“Well… it began with just a handful among the areas she lived in… but it seems to have spread like a wildfire.”

“Of course.” A grinned tugged at the prince’s lips. “She can’t help but draw you in.”

“Your Highness…”

“Leave it be, unless you judge there’s any danger to her.” He turned back to the window, a finger tracing over the glass outlining the person in question. “Go make sure all my forces stand ready in case something goes wrong.” 

“Yes, Milord.” With a brief nod, the masked man quietly exited, leaving Luke alone.

“I’ll play by the rules while I can, but I won’t let you get hurt.”

He whispered a name, so quietly even he could barely hear it.

________________________________

“So you’re saying that in our story, all important characters are doomed to die bloody, violent deaths?” The servant girl stared up at me with an awed expression, making me slightly uncomfortable.

“All except the main hero and main villain, yes.” I nodded my head slowly.

“And that’s why you don’t have a name?” The young man next to her smiled with understanding.

I hesitated at his expression, but finally answered slowly. “Yes. I’m just an unimportant, nameless side character. Fading into the background.”

“A nameless side character.” The small group of servants repeated reverently after me, their eyes bright and excited. 

“…” 

Something’s… off. When I had originally been asked by one of the servant’s in Luke’s quarters why I didn’t have a name, I hadn’t thought much of it. Without mentioning the “transported into a book world” bit, I had explained my theory that all important characters died terribly.

 It had apparently struck a nerve. 

Ever since that day, that servant had been bringing small groups to talk to me, sometimes up to several times a day. They all seemed eager to listen, despite my increasingly wary replies. Even stranger, I had noticed that the servants in the household no longer called each other by name. 

What is going on?

“There you are!” A pleasant voice called out, interrupting my uncomfortable musings. 

“Luke!” I turned with a smile, waving goodbye to the group I had been talking to earlier.

“He has a name…”

“Fool! His Highness is a main character!”

I thought I heard some muttering behind me, but right then Luke reached out, grabbing my hand and distracting me.

“Having fun starting a new religion?” 

“Pardon?” I cocked my head to the side, confused. He stared at me for a few moments before laughing, the delighted sound making me grin back . 

“Never mind, as long as you’re happy.” He squeezed my hand gently. “Ready for the party tonight?”

“I’m going?” The thought made me nervous. It would be the final trial, so all the princes would be there. Fetter…  Graham… I swallowed uncomfortably. I hadn’t seen Graham or his mother since our last run in, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. 

“Who else would be willing to stand by my side?”

“And you… you’re participating?” I couldn’t help but ask; feeling confused. In the book his character hadn’t taken part in the parties at all, simply attacking the city at the night of the third party instead and trying to take the throne by force. It had been a vicious, bloody attack, every horrifying detail described. It was the final straw that made me unable to finish the fourth book Chloe had lent me.

Now I wished I had finished it despite how awful it was to read. I don’t even know what happened to Luke after the attack on Western City. Was he successful? Had he gotten hurt? Anxiety pierced my chest at the thought. He was so different from his character in Deadly Crown, but I wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt him.

How much have I changed the story?

Luke pulled me over to sit next to him on one of the benches in the garden. “It’s true, I don’t have the strongest political skills… that’s Fetter. And I don’t have a large base of support… that’s Graham. It seems like a hopeless cause.” Despite his depressing words however, he was smiling brightly at me.

“Then why are you so happy?” 

“Because you’re by my side.” He chuckled. “Winning isn’t important. We just need to stay alive, and then once they no longer see me as a threat, you and I can go live a life of obscurity in the woods together.” He paused, thinking it over. “Or the desert, if you like, since Blade has named you her successor.”

I shook my head, ignoring the outlandish statement at the end to focus on the point of his words. “So you don’t want the crown?” My tone held some disbelief as I studied his eyes. If he truly never wanted the throne, he could have abdicated at the very start.

Luke didn’t look away, meeting my gaze head on. “I did once.” He admitted it openly, his smile sad. “But it was never for me. It was for my mother.”

“Your mother.” That surprised me. The book had never mentioned her.

“She was from the desert. She and Blade grew up together, but while Blade is a fierce warrior… my mother was the opposite.” He stared down at the ground, a bitter expression taking over his face. “She was kind, loving… far too trusting to be a woman in the Royal Court.”

I pulled his hand into my lap, holding it between my two hands. It was cold, despite the warmer temperature in the garden around us. 

“She loved the king, despite his faults, his many women… his cold nature.” Luke’s eyes closed slowly, hiding the pain I could see in his eyes. “The man cares for no one but himself, but she gave her heart to him. She always hoped that he and I would get along, but I was only ever a disappointment to His Majesty.” He laughed softly, but it was not a happy sound.

“How…?” The question I wanted to ask died on my lips, I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t want to force him to remember, to make him hurt anymore than he already was. But even though I stopped myself, he understood what I wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he continued to speak, his tone flat, as if discussing a long forgotten history, or the weather, rather than the death of his only family member.

“Poison. I still don’t know who did it. Plenty of people with reason to. My mother was beautiful, favored by the King more than most of the other woman who had born him children. She died slowly, fading away in front of me into skin and bones, and there was nothing I could do. But no matter how much it must have hurt her, she continued to smile, to hope I would live happily without hatred or fear.” His voice cracked towards the end, his eyelashes damp from the tears he was trying to hold back.

I reached out, hugging him tightly, and slowly he lowered his head, resting it on my shoulder. His ragged breath felt warm on my neck as he slowly regained his calm. “So you decided to win the crown to avenge her?”

I felt him nod at my words. “They threw me into the Ninth Lord’s household after her death, beat me, cursed me, humiliated me. A useless prince with no backing. But I didn’t give up. I was going to take everything they wanted. The crown, the country, their power and wealth… I would crush it with my own two hands.” His tone was dark. 

“I had planned it out. Get their guard down by participating in the first two trials, and strike while they are fighting and squabbling for power in the final party. Even if only one of them was the one who murdered my mother, they all stood by and watched, seeing it as one less opponent to fight with rather than the death of an innocent woman. I was going to kill them all.” 

And he had… or at least he had tried in the book. I licked my lips nervously, stammering out my next question. “Umm… Are you still going to do that?”

He lifted his head, his tear stained gaze meeting my own. “Would you hate me if I did?”

“Hate?” I didn’t want him to be a villain. I was horrified still at the thought of him becoming a merciless killer like I had read about before. But even so, I couldn’t help but smile at him. “I can’t hate you. If you choose to turn against this world… I’ll fight them all with you.”  

Maybe I’m the real villain in this story.

A hand reached out and brushed the hair away from my eyes. “I don’t want to see you fight the world for me. So win or lose… I’ll play this game until the end.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief, separating from him and standing up, brushing the dirt from my dress. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” His whisper could barely be heard, “That’s only as long as I can keep you safe. If they try to hurt you…”

I met his gaze, seeing a darkness that I didn’t recognize there. “Luke?”

He sighed, standing up and hugging me briefly, before turning back towards the castle. “Let’s get ready for the party.”

________________________________

 By the time the first party started I was already mentally exhausted. Before we had even left, there was a brief fight over what I would wear. My initial suggestion of wearing camouflage and hiding in the bushes was vetoed, not only by Luke, but the entire service staff. Luke’s suggestion of a purple gown, the color only worn by royalty or those married to royalty was also rejected. We went back and forth a few times before deciding on a low key but expensive gown.

As I walked in a few steps behind Luke, I stared down at my ball gown. It was a little too fancy for a nameless side character, which made me nervous, but looking around at the other women in the room, I felt slightly relieved.  Bright colors, large gems and very low necklines seemed to be in style. The dark green color of my gown was less eye-catching, but reminded me of my previous hunting gear, with a high collar open only at the throat, where a simple silver star necklace lay. The sleeves were long and loose, the skirt billowing out but less voluminous then those around me, the style choices allowing me unrestricted movement.

It wasn’t a bad compromise.

As I looked around the room, I realized that the room had separated into groups, each centered around an older man or woman wearing a red sash with a  golden key attached.

The Ten Lords. 

Now that I was looking at them in person, the plot, which had evaded my memory in the past years suddenly, was more clear. In the book, Graham had used the knowledge gained from all his followers he had saved along the way to sway the Lords to his side. Each girl he had rescued, who was desperately in love with him, conveniently knew how to convince one of the Lords.

At the time, it had irritated me. I thought it was the author’s way of explaining why Graham’s harem and terrible treatment of the girls who cared for him was necessary. But now…

I knew exactly what to say to get the Lord’s on Luke’s side.

Feeling excited, I started walking towards the first group, only to be stopped by a gentle tug on my hand.

“Luke?”

At my questioning glance, he bowed with a bright smile. “May I have this dance?”

“Sure.” Fortunately the dances in this world were fairly simple, not unlike a waltz back in my old life. Finally that ballroom class I took comes in handy! As we danced, we settled into an easy rhythm, and I cast a worried look around the room. 

“Shouldn’t we be… you know…”

Luke chuckled. “Scheming?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head. “It’s only the first party. They’ll use this one to feel us out, see what cards we’re holding. If we’re too eager, they’ll be less likely to side with us in the end.”

“… If I told you, I knew exactly what each of the Lords wanted in exchange for their key, would you believe me?” I felt nervous. Graham believed that Chloe and I had psychic or prophetic powers, which was easier to explain then the concept of living in the world of a fantasy book series, but I had never used the knowledge in front of Luke openly before.

Luke’s gaze was serious as he continued to lead me through the dance. “I believe you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how I know?” A girl who had been trapped as a slave in the Ninth Lord’s household, and then spent years in the forest hunting. How could I explain my intricate knowledge of the Ten Lord’s motivations?

I could just tell him the truth.

Even as I considered that tempting, terrifying option, he shook his head slowly. 

“I don’t need to know.” Seeing my confusion, he added. “You’re allowed to have secrets.”

“But…”

“So relax during the first party, and we’ll figure out recruiting the Lords in tomorrow night’s event.

The song ended, and Luke stepped away with a small bow. I curtsied in return, but as I straightened up, someone had stepped between us with a wide smile.

“I claim the next dance.”

Graham.

________________________________

Luke shook his head, reaching out to pull him away. “Don’t think about it.”

“Careful, brother,” Evading his grasp, Graham stepped closer to me, grabbing my arm. “If you make a scene here over a woman, it will be hard to gather support from the Lords.”

Luke rolled his eyes at the warning. “Like I care about that. Now let go…”

“It’s fine.” At my words, both men turned towards me, confused. I smiled at Luke, trying to reassure him. “It’s just a dance.”

“Are you sure?” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his brother’s hand which was holding on to me.

“Wait for me.” Pulling my arm from Graham’s grasp, I positioned myself across from him, a much more formal distance than what I had danced with Luke. “Your Highness?”

Graham frowned, but took my hands and began to lead. “Why are you treating me so coldly?”

“… Are you an idiot?” I stared at him as we danced. “You do remember that you tried to drug me last time we met?”

“Only because I love you so much.” His gaze was intense, with more than a little obsession brewing within. It was uncomfortable to face. “And I didn’t succeed, anyways. You drugged me in the end, so actually you owe me.”

I stepped on his foot. Hard. “I owe you nothing. So let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

“Don’t fight the inevitable, Darling.” His smile widened. “We’re destined to be together.”

Is this the confidence of the main hero of a story? I remembered that in the book he had innumerable women falling in love with him. Perhaps it had messed with his head? Realizing it would be impossible to convince him through logic, I stayed silent, hoping for the dance to end. Unfortunately, Graham kept talking, and was difficult to ignore.

“After the third party, I’ll have the token back, we can announce our engagement then.”

“Don’t be delusional.” I stepped on his foot again, smiling as he winced with pain. “We’re not even friends, much less in a relationship.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s. And you have at least eight women who would love to marry you.”

His hands tightened on my own, the grip painful. “I don’t want them.”

“And I don’t want you.” I shrugged. “That’s life.”

“Do you want my brother?” He tried to pull me closer, but I stopped on his foot hard enough to stop the motion.

Yes. “It’s not any of your business who I want.”

“Fine.” He snarled. “I’ll become King, and then you’ll have to listen.”

The song ended, and I gave a sigh of relief. Graham kept holding onto my hands, despite my less than subtle attempts to pull them free. Just as I was considering a more drastic escape strategy, which would involve kneeing him in the testicles, a voice interrupted our silent struggle.

“Brother, how good to see again! How about we trade partners for the next dance?”

I looked over to see an unfamiliar smiling face. He was obviously younger, at most seventeen or eighteen years old, his golden hair and green eyes similar to Graham. But his face was more angular, giving him a sharp, severe look, and his eyes seemed to roam around the room, stopping seemingly at random as he assessed everything before him. I felt his gaze crawl over me, and shuddered with disgust at the delighted light in his eyes.

There’s something wrong with this man.

“Fetter, what are you…?” Graham started to question him, but trailed off in shock as he saw the man’s partner. A very familiar woman.

“Hello, Your Highness.” Chloe, dressed in a long, purple gown, smiled sweetly at him.

“Chloe, you joined Fetter’s side?” I was shocked. As far as I knew, she had disliked that character in Deadly Crown, obsessed over Graham instead. 

At my question she shot be a glare, before recovering her expression. “I happened to get lost in the castle, and Prince Fetter was kind enough to offer to escort me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Graham. “Shall we dance, Prince Graham?”

I watched, shaking my head as Graham took her hand slowly, studying her dress with a cold expression

He might be an obsessed, egotistical prick, but he’s not an idiot. Graham had been involved in intrigue since he was a small child. His mother was a scheming force to be reckoned with. Did Chloe really think he would trust her once she had shown support for Fetter?

 “Let’s dance.” As i thought it over, Fetter took advantage of my distraction, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the center of the room, ignoring Graham’s look of anger at his gesture.

________________________________

The music started up again and we began to dance.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“Why wouldn’t I be excited?” I answered in a flat tone. “I get to dance with all three princes today. I’m honored beyond all expression.”

Fetter smiled, the expression making my skin crawl. “Between dancing with the princes in a beautiful ball gown and drinking poison…?”

I thought it over. “I guess it depends on the poison. There are a few that might rank lower than this.”

“I see it.” He laughed. “I wondered why they were so desperate. But I see it now.” He leaned closer. “It’s your eyes. We’ve grown up crooked thanks to that worthless old man on the throne, never knowing what it would be like to have someone treat us as people instead of a tool to be used. Your eyes are refreshingly free of greed and desire. It’s almost as if you have no expectations from this world.”

I followed his lead silently. He was right. I didn’t have any expectations. This world was nothing but a nightmare for me, with the exception of Blade and Luke.  I honestly wasn’t sure how I had gotten here, and if or when I would return. “Your point?” After a long silence, I asked coldly.

“My brothers covet that in you. Want to preserve it, or at least steal it away and hoard it for their own.” 

I lifted an eyebrow. “And what do you want?”

“Me?” His smile grew vicious. “I want to destroy it. Break you into a thousand pieces, and watch them cry as they try to put you back together, only to break you again.”

My blood ran cold. “You’re insane.”

“We all are crazy, darling. Each and every one of us in the Royal family.  Our father wanted it that way.” He shrugged as he danced. “Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off. I’m just the most honest about it.”

Stepping away, I ignored the fact that the dance hadn’t ended, I ignored the political implications and the gossip that would be spoke about an unknown woman rudely interrupting her dance with a prince. My mind, my body, my entire being was overwhelmingly consumed by a single need.

To get away from him.

I felt it strongly. A sense of danger. A certainty of death. It hung over Fetter like a cloud, and the longer I stood next to him the more certain I was that I would not escape. I walked quickly, not noticing the mix of concerned and angry stares, until a familiar hand reached out and grabbed my own, startling me.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s face was pale as he studied my own, he looked over at Fetter and I saw hatred flare up deep within his gaze.

We all are crazy.

I shook my head silently.

“We’ll leave early.” Pulling me along, I was surprised, barely able to keep up with his pace.

“But the test...”

“It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t hesitate as he walked away. “None of it does.”

As we moved along, I heard Luke add under his breath. “As long as you’re okay.”

Feeling warm, I squeezed his hand in return, following him back to his rooms. 

________________________________

We sat down, in the dark and silent rooms, facing each other. The rooms were cold with the evening chill, the only light from the moonlight streaming in from the window. But it was enough light to see Luke’s face.

He watched me, his expression concerned, his eyes studying every inch of my features as if to etch them into his memory. There was a hint of panic in his gaze, one hand clutched tightly at his chest as he watched me, as if he was worried that I would disappear the second he looked away.

“Should we run away?” He asked quietly, his voice serious.

“Would they let us?”

“…” He leaned his head forward, laughing bitterly. “This late in the game? They’d be more likely to have us hunt down for fear it was part of a scheme.”

“Then why would you ask?”

Luke stared at me in silence for a few moments, the pain and panic becoming more clear with each passing second. “I don’t want to lose you. I won’t let them even have the chance.” 

Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off.

I couldn’t escape the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Remembering Graham’s obsessed words, Fetter’s undisguised violence… I shuddered, and reached out to hold his hand. 

He was shaking. I held his hand between both of mine, feeling him slowly calm down.

I had run away tonight. I was still afraid of dying. Of being involved in the plot too much. But I wasn’t going to run away again. 

I took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, tired sigh. “We need to talk, Luke.”

He blinked. “About what?”

“About how I got here, why I know so much, and why I refuse to have a name… it will sound crazy. You may not believe me.” I swallowed uncomfortably. “But I think it’s the key to surviving all this madness. Winning the crown if that’s what you want. But... If…after… you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

“...”

After a brief silence Luke smiled, the expression startling clear despite the fear I could still see in his eyes. “Nothing could be crazy enough for me to want that.”

I didn’t smile back. “Then I’ll tell you about a story… called ‘Deadly Crown.’”

[clumsyclifford]

bella! I don't know if you're taking requests/prompts? but if you ever feel like writing anything based on just friends by saint morgan, that'd be cool? xD (whichever ship you think it fits, but it reminds me of that cake fic you wrote based on "silent confessions at the foot of your bed") anyway yeah that's all

shal !! it took me two months but i finally got around to writing this. since you mentioned g&c cake i made it cake, and yes i did loop the song the entire time i was writing it (29 times!). also i have to say, EXCELLENT taste. listening to that song 29 times really made me love it. also i recommend listening to it while reading for optimal experience. anyway i hope i did it justice <3

- 

They go to the river.

River is a generous word for what’s really a racing stream, but the ambience is nice. It’s a warm Tuesday in December, and Calum’s restless for adventure. Luke can tell — somehow Luke can always tell; Calum doesn’t think he’s an open book but Luke only needs to give him a critical once-over before he’s got Calum figured out — so Luke suggests they go to the river, and Calum eagerly agrees.

Neither of them bothers to put on better clothes for swimming. They’re not really planning to swim, though it might happen anyway. It’s just nice to be outside on a gorgeous day like this. And Calum will take any and all opportunities to spend time with Luke.

“Dare you to go in,” he says as they approach the bank. Luke laughs.

“Darers go first.”

“Fine.” There’s no way Calum’s getting in; it’s warm but not that warm, and he doesn’t want to be cold the rest of the afternoon. Maybe he can manipulate Luke into getting in, though. He’s seen Luke caught in a rainstorm before, so he knows from experience that nobody looks quite as pretty while drenched. 

It’s too late for Calum to pretend he’s not thinking it, or convince himself that he doesn’t have the world’s worst crush on Luke, so he’s learning just to let himself indulge when he can.

“You so won’t,” Luke scoffs. Then he shrugs. “It’s nice out, though. Maybe in a little bit.”

Calum concedes this with a tilt of the head, and in tandem they sit down on the grass nearby, claiming a shady spot under a tall tree. Luke leans back, stretching his arms behind his head like a pillow, and closes his eyes. Calum props himself up on his elbow and watches Luke.

Some people are winter people, best framed against clean white snow and wrapped up in layers. Luke is a summer person. His skin gleams under the sun, eyes and sky competing to be bluest. T-shirts and shorts suit him best, and even hidden in the shade of the tree, he’s dappled with sunlight through the leaves. Pretty is hardly sufficient; he’s one of the most beautiful people Calum’s ever met, ever seen in his life.

They don’t talk for a minute. Luke’s eyes flutter open, as if by accident, but when he sees Calum they stay open. “What?”

“What, what?”

“Don’t stare at me,” Luke says, pink-cheeked.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Luke says immediately, and then, “but just — don’t.”

Calum shifts so he’s on his back, side by side with Luke but not quite touching. “Fine, weirdo.”

“You’re the one who was staring!”

“Well, you’re the one who made it weird.”

“It’s weird to stare at your friends.”

“I don’t think it is. Not when they look like you.”

Luke is quiet. “Still,” he finally says, and that’s a soft rejection, but it had been a soft attempt anyway, so Calum takes it with a grain of salt.

Another couple minutes pass. It’s not humid, but the warmth lingering in the air makes Calum feel a bit drowsy, so he closes his eyes also, allowing them both to soak in the summer silence.

Luke breaks it by saying, “Um, this is a stupid question, but we’re really friends, right?”

Calum frowns without opening his eyes. “Of course we are,” he says. “That is a stupid question.”

“I guess you wouldn’t tell me if we weren’t,” Luke continues, like he hasn’t heard Calum.

“I wouldn’t be friends with you at all if we weren’t,” Calum argues. He opens his eyes and turns once again onto his side to look at Luke, who’s now gazing up at the branches above them. “What are you even saying?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says. He’s blushing deeply. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Why do you ask?” Calum presses. “What are you thinking about?”

Luke shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

It’s obviously not nothing — Luke’s leg is bouncing, the way it does whenever he gets nervous — but Calum can’t imagine he’ll get any further with the third degree, so he backs off.

“I’m gonna get in the water,” he decides. He’s not totally sure what makes him say it, but it gets the result he’d hoped for: Luke purses his lips and says, “Me too, then.”

They both get to their feet and brush themselves off. “Is there dirt on my back?” Calum asks, turning out and attempting to look over his shoulder.

Luke steps behind him. “A bit, yeah,” he says. With one hand he braces Calum’s shoulder, and the other brushes the dirt off Calum’s t-shirt. Calum swallows, trying not to squirm under Luke’s firm grasp. As soon as he’s done, Luke moves away, and Calum reaches for the collar of his shirt and pulls it off.

Luke makes a noise. “What are you doing?”

Calum turns to him. “I’m not getting my shirt wet, I’ll just be colder,” he says, drawing his eyebrows together.

Luke bites his lip. “Oh. That makes sense.”

It does make sense, but it also does exactly what Calum had intended. After a moment’s hesitation, Luke also tugs his shirt off, and they both head for the stream.

The current is slow today, and when Calum trudges into the water it goes up to the middle of his stomach. He bends his knees and watches Luke slowly wade in after him, staring once again. Luke is skinny, but there’s something sculpted about him, like none of him is by accident; like someone built him, or sketched him with a ruler and then brought him to life, clean lines and sharp edges. Calum is dying to touch him, just to see if his skin is as hot as the sunlight it’s made of, if dragging a hand down his arm makes him bleed, if his hair is as soft as it looks. 

More than all of that, Calum wants to kiss him, so much he thinks he might lose his mind if he doesn’t get to.

Luke sinks low in the water, digging his heels into the riverbed so he doesn’t drift away. Calum lets the current bring him closer.

“Kinda cold,” Luke says, giggling. Calum looks at him and can’t look away.

“Kinda,” he says. “Bet you’re glad you’re not wearing a shirt now.”

“I am,” Luke acquiesces. “You’re a genius, Calum.”

“That is true. I am a genius.” There’s a pause. “You should dunk your head,” Calum says. “We should both. On three.”

“Really? You want to put your head in this water?”

“It’s just water.”

Luke ponders this but fails to come up with a decent counter-argument. “Fine,” he says. “Promise you’ll actually do it?”

“It was my idea,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

“On three, then.” Luke bobs up and down. “One, two — three!”

True to his word, Calum submerges himself completely, then surfaces and shakes his head out. Luke has also kept his word, and his hair is plastered ridiculously to his forehead until he reaches up and pushes it back with one hand. The light is threading itself through the sheen of water over Luke’s shoulders and chest. Calum is helpless against it; Luke was made to be gazed at, and Calum is just a lucky spectator.

“You’re staring again,” Luke says quietly. Calum smiles and floats nearer to him.

“Yes I am,” he says easily. “You’re very easy to stare at.”

Luke’s cheeks turn red. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Luke says, flustered. “Because — I don’t know.”

“Do you want me not to?”

“Not to…what?”

Calum bites his lip, waving a hand underwater and sending the flow this way and that. “Whatever it is you’re telling me not to do.”

Luke shakes his head. “It’s just — never mind.”

“You can tell me, you know,” Calum says. Luke’s not moving away, which is a good sign, so Calum straightens up. He feels like he’s towering over Luke until Luke also straightens up, and then, hesitantly, Calum takes a step closer. One more step and they’ll be touching; one more step for Calum to be the first person ever to make contact with the sun. “You don’t have to say never mind. I want to know.”

Luke looks away, down at the rocks and sand under their feet. “My mum says she thinks you’re trouble.”

That’s not what Calum had been expecting. “What?” he says, strained. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbles. “She says she thinks you’re going to be one of those people who takes the shy kid under their wing and then just ditches him a few weeks later. Like, one of those popular kids.”

Calum makes an offended noise. “I would never do that!”

“She’s looking out for me,” Luke says, and he sounds tired. “I mean, I…I’ve never really had close friends, so I think she’s just being overprotective. I don’t know. She got in my head. That’s why I asked you that, earlier.”

“Luke, I’d never. You know I’d never. We’re really friends. You’re one of my best friends.” Calum takes a deep breath. “You believe me, right?”

Luke finally lifts his gaze to meet Calum’s. “Yeah, I do. I just don’t think my mum will. I tried to tell her that and she wouldn’t listen.”

Calum is itching to take that last step, but there’s something stopping him. Maybe it’s just the look on Luke’s face. “Is she — does she hate me?”

Luke shrugs. “It’s more like she really doesn’t trust you. So…I guess that’s the same. Sorry, Calum. I mean — I like you, though. And I know she’s wrong.” Something occurs to Calum. “Does she know you’re with me right now?”

Luke laughs a bit, though it’s clear he doesn’t find it funny. “No, uh…I told her we’re not friends, anymore.” He winces. “I know that’s — I know that’s not — I’m a coward, you know? But —”

“It’s okay,” Calum says with difficulty. “You don’t want to upset her.”

“It’s more like I just wanted her to stop shit-talking you,” Luke says. “She doesn’t talk about you anymore, so.”

“That’s good.” Calum bites his lip, hesitant. “I thought you were going to say it was something to do with, like, hanging out with the gay kid or something.”

Luke’s face twists into an expression of horror. “No! Calum, no way.” He breathes a nervous laugh. “She couldn’t have a problem with that anyway. I also, um, like boys, and she’s never said anything about that.”

Calum blinks. “You do?”

Through the water, Calum can see Luke kicking up pebbles. “Yeah,” he says. “I thought I said.”

“You didn’t. Just boys, or…?”

“And girls,” Luke says. “But, um, it’s a bit — it’s not like I’ve ever dated anyone, or kissed anyone, or anything, so, you know, I could be wrong.”

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Luke blushes with his whole body, Calum notices, with distant amusement. It creeps up his neck and tints his ears before crossing his cheeks. “Uh, no.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Calum does a quick pro-con analysis, but in the end it’s nothing but hope and recklessness that makes him ask: “Do you want to?”

“Obviously I want to,” Luke says, rolling his eyes.

“No, I mean.” Calum licks his lips, which feel suddenly dry. “Do you want to right now. With me.”

The quiet that follows is the heaviest Calum’s ever been in. It stacks itself onto Calum’s shoulders, daring him to cave, to back down even an inch, but Calum just stands still and watches Luke. If he doesn’t want to, he can always say no. He has to know that Calum will back off if he says no.

Luke swallows hard. “Really?” Calum nods once, holding his breath. There’s another moment of silence while Luke studies his face, and finally he says, “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Calum’s never been more sure of anything in his life. At last the invisible barrier breaks down, and Calum takes the final step to bridge the distance between them. “Stop me if, um, whenever,” he says. Luke nods. Calum settles his hands delicately on Luke’s shoulders — electricity racing up his arms — and Luke moves his hands uncertainly around for a second, so Calum grabs his wrists and settles them on his own waist. “Okay?”

“Sorry,” Luke mutters. Calum shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

“It’s all good,” he says. “Can I…”

Luke nods slowly, so Calum wastes no time. He leans in and Luke meets him in the middle, and for a second everything in the world stops moving, stops existing, except Luke’s mouth on Calum’s, clumsy and unsure but decidedly Luke, who Calum’s wanted to kiss basically since they met. 

Not only is it exceptional for a first kiss, it’s exceptional for a kiss at all. Calum quickly wraps his arms around Luke’s neck and Luke’s wind around Calum’s waist, pressed together at almost every point. Despite the chill from the breeze catching on their damp skin, Calum feels like he’s on fire. If this is what it’s like to touch the sun, Calum never wants to stop. He’d burn himself up to kiss Luke forever.

Though Luke had been tentative at first, he surrenders immediately when Calum slides his tongue over Luke’s bottom lip, with a small sigh that makes Calum’s heart skip a beat, or cease altogether. Around them, the current pushes the two of them impossibly closer together; when Luke’s tongue finds its way into Calum’s mouth, Calum fails to suppress a shiver, and immediately Luke breaks away, concerned.

“Are you cold?” he asks breathlessly.

Calum laughs and shakes his head. “Not even a little bit,” he says, and pulls Luke back in.

The feeling of Luke under his fingertips is overwhelming, and Calum is sure that without the kiss grounding him, he’d float away entirely, or disintegrate, or burst into flames. He feels like he’ll do one of those things as it is, or maybe all three. Kissing Luke is also overwhelming, but in a completely different way, because it’s a two-way street. He’s kissing Luke, but Luke is also kissing him.

(Shamelessly, hungrily, lips and teeth and tongue against Calum’s. Calum has a hard time believing that this is Luke’s first kiss. Nobody should be this good on their first try.)

Eventually, and with a gasp, Luke breaks it again. Calum chases his lips for a last kiss, something soft, because as far as he knows he’ll never get to kiss Luke again. It fills him with dread to think it, but this had ostensibly only been a first-kiss offer, and now they’ve checked that box.

(They’ve destroyed the box. The box is in tatters. The box isn’t even recognizably a box anymore.)

Both of them stand there, unmoving as the stream brushes up against their skin, breathing heavily in each other’s space. Calum can’t think of anything at all to say, and Luke says nothing either; for a long time they just stay there, reluctant to separate and equally reluctant to shatter the silence. If they acknowledge it, then they have to move past it. Calum doesn’t want that. He wants to live in this moment for the rest of his life, to always be suspended in the moment just after kissing Luke, when he can still taste him.

Luke opens his mouth finally, and what he says is, “Oh. Um. Thank you.”

Despair floods Calum. “It wasn’t a favor,” he blurts out. Luke frowns in confusion. “I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. We don’t have to again if you don’t want to, but you should know.”

Luke exhales. “Oh.” His gaze skids lower, away from Calum’s eyes. Calum becomes hyper-aware of how close they still are. Luke hasn’t made any effort to move away, and Calum certainly doesn’t want to. That has to be a good sign, right? “I — um.” He takes a sharp breath. “My mum…”

Fuck. Luke’s fucking mum. Calum’s never hated anyone more. “So don’t tell her,” Calum says. 

Luke looks up at him. “I couldn’t do that to you. I don’t want to be with you like that.”

For a second, Calum’s throat closes up with the bulk of words building up, question marks all trying to force their way between his teeth, tangling up his tongue. “Wh— do you want to be with me at all?”

“Of course I do,” Luke says timidly. “I’m just. I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “It’s kind of scary.”

“Yeah,” Calum says, infusing his voice with as much comfort as he can muster while reeling from the force of Luke’s answer. Of course I do. “Yeah. It’s scary. Sure. Especially if it’s a secret. If it’s too, um, too much — I don’t want to put you in a position —”

“No, no,” Luke says. “I’m saying I want to anyway.” The blush has taken up permanent residence on his face, but somehow Luke’s voice is clear and unflinching. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

Calum wavers. “Are you sure, Luke? It’s kind of a, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Luke says firmly. His eyes flit around Calum’s face, maybe searching for something. “We should probably, like, get out of the…the water.”

Calum tightens his arms around Luke’s neck, leaning his forehead against Luke’s. His heart is beating irregularly, and it might be from the cold, but it’s probably not. “Or we could not.”

Luke chuckles weakly. “We’ll catch cold or something.”

“It’s December,” Calum says, barely a breath. “Live a little.”

Luke doesn’t answer him, but he surges forward and kisses Calum with none of the reservations he’d had minutes earlier, and if the current washed them both away right now, or sunk them under and mysteriously claimed their lives, Calum knows he’d die happy.

[cuthian]

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure Chapter Four

Hi everyone!

I think there'll only be one more chapter after this one, but no promises on when that'll be out. Uni research work is calling my name and I've neglecting it far too much already 😅

The first scene in this chapter is rated a very tentative M, so practice caution ☺️

Thanks for the massive response and love!

Love, Annaelle

FOUR

“Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.” —Cormac McCarthy

REGGIE

Reggie let Luke push him back into the studio, watching in amusement as he kicked the door shut before pushing Reggie down onto the couch, Reggie’s hands slipping up his thighs and around Luke’s waist when the other boy straddled him smoothly, pressing him back into the cushioned seat.

“Hi,” he breathed faintly, looking up at Luke breathlessly. “You know we only have like ten minutes to change and then pop to the restaurant, right?”

“Plenty of time,” Luke grinned, leaning down so his lips were just barely brushing over Reggie’s. “We haven’t had a second to ourselves all week.” Reggie’s heart squeezed a little in his chest in an odd mixture of fondness and exasperation before he nodded shakily, barely managing to smile before Luke’s lips were on his, his hands soft but insistent on Reggie’s cheeks.

Reggie kissed him back, slipping his fingers up into Luke’s messy hair for purchase, gasping against his lips when he deepened the kiss, tugging Reggie’s shirt up until they had to break the kiss to tug it over his head. “I know we’re supposed to change, but I don’t think this is the most efficient way to go about it,” Reggie remarked, grinning at the breathless look of desire and exasperation Luke gave him before he reeled Reggie back in for a much messier kiss this time, with clacking teeth and too much tongue, and Reggie loved every second of it.

Luke’s hold on his hair was just on the right edge of painful as he dragged Reggie’s head back, mouthing his way down his throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses. “Luke,” Reggie moaned, heart pounding wildly, fingers clenching in Luke’s loose shirt.

“What,” Luke grinned, lips curving into a smile against Reggie’s neck. “You want me to stop?”

“No,” Reggie squeaked, tightening his fingers in Luke’s shirt.

“Good,” Luke smirked, that great, devastating smirk that made Reggie’s knees wobble, and then the world tilted alarmingly for a moment as Luke maneuvered them sideways onto the couch, pressing Reggie flat on his back, his lips once again occupying Reggie’s in a downright filthy kiss as they writhed to get comfortable on the cramped surface.

They grappled for control for a while, Reggie impatiently tugging at Luke’s top and Luke feverishly attempting to unbutton Reggie’s trousers without breaking the kiss. Reggie groaned, eyes rolling back in his head and blunt fingernails digging into Luke’s shoulders when he bit down on the skin just above Reggie’s collarbone before soothing over the mark with his tongue.

“Luke,” he whined, slipping his hands down his back to his bottom, pulling Luke’s hips down to grind on his and holy fucking shit—

“We really don’t have time for this,” Reggie panted as Luke’s teeth scraped against his earlobe.

“Then tell me to stop,” Luke told him, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide as he leaned in for a slower, deeper kiss than before. Reggie found it very hard to concentrate in general with Luke pressed against him like this, hard and warm and insistent, and he didn’t think he was strong enough to tell Luke to stop—nor did he want him to.

Luke grinded down against him again and Reggie couldn’t contain the whimper that fell from his lips, and he could feel Luke smile against his lips.

“Someone’s excited,” he muttered, and Reggie kind of wanted to smack—or kiss—that mischievous grin from Luke’s lips. He did, pulling Luke down to kiss him again, slower and sweeter this time, slipping his hand down into the back pockets of Luke’s jeans to pull him closer.

“I thought that was the point,” Reggie gasped a little unsteadily, finally succeeding in ridding Luke of his stupid shirt and getting both their jeans unbuttoned once they’d broken the kiss again. He rocked his hips up against Luke, eagerly leaning into another kiss, and he couldn’t suppress the whine that fell from his lips at the feel of Luke’s heated skin on his—it was incredible.

He felt like he was burning from the inside out, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think and he couldn’t stop—not that he really wanted to in the first place.

plop.

“Hey guys, are you ready, Julie and Flynn are alre—woah!”

Reggie jerked away from Luke, who jerked away too, rolling right off the couch and onto the floor with a muted thud, staring wide-eyed at Alex, who’d covered his eyes with his hands, and had turned his back to them, cheeks flamed bright red. “I thought you were just changing clothes,” he said accusingly.

“I mean,” Luke said, having recovered from the shock and gotten back to his feet, looking remarkably unruffled, Reggie noted resentfully. “We would’ve gotten there eventually.”

Luke raised his eyebrows at Alex as Reggie struggled to his feet, any and all arousal squashed into oblivion by the mortification of being walked in on, buttoning his jeans back up regretfully. “Why are you—” Luke chuckled at Alex, stepping around the little end table to grab Alex’s hands and draw them down. “There’s literally nothing you haven’t seen from either of us.”

“That was different,” Alex squeaked, jerking his arm from Luke’s grasp, still blushing furiously—Reggie got it. “And get dressed. We have to go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke chuckled, popping up to the loft to do exactly that.

Reggie’s hands shook a little as he retrieved his shirt from the floor, avoiding looking directly at Alex, because he was sure they’d both just burst into laughter—or tears—if they made eye contact.

“Well then,” Luke said cheerfully, popping back down when he’d put on a shirt and tossing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Let’s go.” Reggie exhaled shakily and managed to shoot an embarrassed grin towards Alex, who looked equal parts mortified and delighted.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s.”  

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

JULIE

Julie was fidgeting, tapping her foot under the table as she and Flynn waited for the manager to show up. “Hey,” Flynn said softly, putting her hand on Julie’s thigh to still the constant movement. “Everything is going to be fine. This is just a first meeting.” She smiled lightly and knocked her shoulder against Julie’s. “The boys’ll be here, you’ll wow this agent, and we’ll see from there, okay?”

Julie laughed despite the nerves that were making her stomach clench, leaning into her girlfriend’s side gratefully.

“Okay,” she chuckled. “You’re right.”

She inhaled deeply and smiled at Flynn, blushing a little when the other girl pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Flynn took Julie’s hand and tangled their fingers together, resting their joined hands on her lap.  

“Did I tell you,” Julie said, in a bid to distract herself and Flynn from the impending meeting. “That Reggie and Luke finally got their heads out of their asses?” Flynn laughed and shook her head, and Julie continued, “They’re almost more annoying now. They can barely keep their hands to themselves.” She smiled lightly and added, “It is a little cute though.”

“Can they even,” Flynn frowned, tilting her head thoughtfully, “You know… Do that anymore? They’re ghosts. They’re made of air.”

“Ew,” Julie exclaimed, shoving at Flynn’s shoulder with her free hand. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna know! They’re my friends, I don’t wanna think about them… doing that.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head again.

“Lies,” Flynn cackled. “You had a massive crush on Luke, don’t deny it.”

“I didn’t—” Julie sputtered, cheeks flaming with a blush. “It wasn’t—I wasn’t as bad as Reggie. And besides… I have you.” It was a lame comeback and she knew it.

“Duh,” Flynn rolled her eyes. “Reggie’s crush on Luke can be seen from space, even now. They have even more chemistry than you and Luke do sharing a mike.”

Before Julie could reply, the boys popped into existence right in front of their table, Luke grinning wide and unrepentant while both Reggie and Alex looked flushed and embarrassed. Luke’s hair was so messy it almost looked like he’d stuck his fingers in a light socket, and Reggie was wearing exactly the same thing he had been earlier—at least Luke had changed his shirt.

“Really?” She said, raising an eyebrow at them, trying to look stern, even though the corner of her lips tilted up in a smile anyway. “Again? Can you not keep your hands to yourself for ten minutes?”

“Nope,” Luke replied cheerfully, just as Flynn said, “The boys are here?”

Julie nodded, and Alex, who’d been looking around, said, “And I think your manager is here too.”

Julie turned to look over her shoulder with a smile that immediately froze on her face. Reggie inhaled sharply too. “That’s—” he choked, “that’s not—that’s Maggie, Alex.”

“Maggie?” Luke squinted. “What’s Maggie doing here?”

But the pieces of the puzzle were snapping together in Julie’s mind. Maggie’s wife had mentioned that Maggie worked with artists, and the woman she’d spoken to on the phone earlier this week had never mentioned the name of the person she was supposed to meet here, and—potentially worst of all—she’d given Maggie her full name.

“Shit,” she cursed quietly. When Flynn looked at her, wide-eyed, she hissed, “That’s Reggie’s little sister. If she saw our video—”

Before anyone could say anything, Maggie had reached the table, glaring down at Julie with an impassive, unimpressed expression. “Don’t stand up,” she said coolly, and she didn’t sound anything like the kind, sweet woman Julie had met just a week earlier. “Here’s how this is going to go. I’m gonna sit, and you’re going to tell me exactly how many of my brothers’ band’s songs you stole from those notebooks before you gave them back, and exactly how you managed to get enough footage of them to fake a performance. If you’re lucky I might not sue you and blackball you in the entire industry.”

Julie stared at her, openmouthed, as did Reggie and the others.

Maggie sat down across from Julie and Flynn, barely sparing a glance towards Flynn before she refocused her attention on Julie. “I’m sure you’re not a bad kid,” she continued. “You wouldn’t have returned this,” she tapped the bracelet on her wrist lightly, “if you were. But,” she leaned forward and Julie noticed, for the first time, that Maggie was barely keeping it together, that her eyes were shiny with unshed, furious tears, “you have no right using their music. I sure as hell didn’t give you permission and I know for a fact that Luke’s parents wouldn’t have either. So.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I—,” Julie stuttered. “It’s not—it’s not like that.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Then, pray tell, what is it like?”

Julie opened her mouth, changed her mind and closed it again, looking helplessly at Flynn and the boys.

“Tell her,” Reggie said. “Just tell her everything.”

“Reg,” Luke started, and Julie wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, but she already knew he was thinking the same thing she was—they couldn’t tell Maggie. She would never believe them—she’d probably be even more likely to blackball her.

And to have her committed to an asylum.

“It’s complicated,” she finally said, looking away from the boys. “I don’t think—you wouldn’t believe me if I told you—”

“Try me,” Maggie said dryly. “I’m not letting this happen again, Julie. If you wanted to use their songs, their music, you should’ve gone about it differently.”

“I—” Julie stopped. Blinked. “You know about Trevor?”

This threw Maggie. “Of course I know,” she said. “How the hell do you know?”

“Damn it,” Reggie cursed, “tell her. Tell her everything. Or,” he started forward, holding out his hand to Julie. “Make me corporeal, let me tell her. Please, just tell her.”

“Reggie, man, we can’t tell her,” Luke jumped in, pulling Reggie back. “She’ll never believe us. Or she’ll think she’s gone crazy. You don’t wanna do that to her, do you?” Reggie opened his mouth to protest, but Alex put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back a little and shaking his head.

“It’s—they’re not—” Julie stuttered, “They’re lookalikes.” She could tell Flynn was trying to nod along with whatever she was trying to say, but Maggie clearly wasn’t buying it, but it was the only thing she had, she had no idea what else she could say. “They’re not from around here,” she added. “They live in Sweden, which is why it’s a… a hologram band.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Maggie deadpanned.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Reggie cursed, lunging forward. Julie tried to twist away from him, to stop him from what he was trying to do, but she was too late, and his fingers closed on her forearm.

With a sudden plop he became visible.

“What the fuck,” Maggie exclaimed, shoving her chair back and nearly tripping over it as she jumped to her feet. Her eyes were wide and stunned, Luke and Alex looked horrified and Reggie was looking at Maggie with a pleading expression. “It’s me,” he said, approaching her slowly, hands raised in supplication. “Mags, it’s me, I promise, I can—we’re ghosts, somehow, but when we make music, people can hear us, and see us and—” he gestured to Julie helplessly, “She’s singing with us, she’s helping us.”

Maggie looked from Reggie to Julie and back, mouth hanging slightly open in abject shock.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” She demanded hoarsely. “My brother’s been dead for twenty-five years.” She looked at Reggie, although it did look like it physically hurt her to do so, and said, “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but it’s not funny.”

“Mags, it’s me,” Reggie repeated, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “I swear.”

“Don’t call me that,” Maggie spat, snatching her purse from the back of her chair and shaking her head. “I don’t know who you are, but leave me and my family the hell alone.”

She turned to Julie. “If I ever find you using their songs again, I will make sure you will never have a career in music, no matter how good you are.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed outside, slamming the door so hard behind her that the everyone who wasn’t already looking at them turned to stare. Reggie looked like he’d been slapped in the face, and Julie felt terrible for him, but also wanted to slap him up the head again, because there was no way that could’ve gone well.

“Reggie,” Luke whispered, coming up behind Reggie, trailing his hand down Reggie’s arm lightly. “Reggie, come on.”

“No,” Reggie said, “No, I’m going after her.”

“No, hey,” Alex intervened, stepping up in front of Reggie and pressing a hand to his chest. “Let me, okay? I’ll go. It might be easier if it’s not you.” He looked at Julie when Reggie nodded reluctantly and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “We can walk outside, you make me visible, and I’ll go find her, try to explain everything.”

“Yeah,” Julie nodded shakily, “Okay.” She stood and followed Alex outside in a daze.

How did everything go south this fast?

------

LUKE

It wasn’t hard to find Maggie when he put his mind to it.

She was walking fast, but she was also clearly still very shaken by what had happened in the restaurant.

Not that Alex could blame her, of course.

Reggie really should’ve thought that through more, although Alex had to admit he’d been at a loss too. There really wasn’t a reasonable explanation of why Julie was performing with three guys who looked and sounded just like a 90s rock band that had died of eating bad hotdogs.

He took a deep breath and popped around the corner, turning and waiting for Maggie.

Alex could see the exact moment she saw him. She froze in the middle of the sidewalk, wide eyes staring at him in disbelief and fear and confusion, and Alex felt horrible for her.

“Hey,” he said softly, approaching her slowly. “That went pretty badly.”

“You’re not real,” Maggie said hoarsely, shaking her head desperately. “You’re dead. I saw your bodies—you’re dead. We buried you.”

Alex was momentarily taken aback—why the hell had she seen their bodies, she’d been nine—before he said, “I am. I’m also here. It’s—you know, we don’t really know how it happened either. But we’re here. When we perform with Julie, other people can see us, can hear us—and now, whenever we touch her, we become—” he tapped his own chest and said, “corporeal. Just for a little while, but…”

“This is insane,” Maggie pleaded, a tear running down her cheek.

Alex chanced another step closer, and though she tensed up, she didn’t run from him. “I know,” he said. “I know, okay. But it’s real. And none of this is Julie’s fault, I promise. She had our permission to use the songs, she wrote half of them with us. And I know, I know this is a lot to take in, Mags. No one expects that you just accept this right away. Just…”

He held out his hand.

“Please let me give you Julie’s address and phone number so you can reach us.”

She looked at him for a long time, and he let her look, because he understood that this had to be overwhelming and weird and downright insane. “Okay,” she finally whispered, hoarsely. “Okay.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and unlocked it before she handed it to him, and Alex was so glad he’d had time to mess around with Julie’s phone, because at least now he knew what to do.

When he’d typed in the address and phone number, he saved the contact and handed the phone back, his fingers brushing past hers accidentally.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, pulling back and taking a step back, but Maggie shook her head, grasping at his wrist to pull him back.

“You’re real,” she whispered, staring at where her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, “I can—I can feel you.” She turned his wrist over and pressed her fingertips to his pulse point, and Alex let her, because it was one of the first things they’d done when they realized they became corporeal when Julie touched them too.

“But no pulse,” he said quietly, putting his hand on top of hers lightly.

Maggie looked up at him. “But no pulse,” she echoed. “You’re still dead.”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded.

Maggie stared at their hands for another long few minutes before she dropped her hand and stepped back. “If—tell Reggie I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t know if I—if this—” she looked up and swallowed thickly. “Just tell him I’m sorry.”

Alex nodded. “I will.”

Maggie nodded tightly, shot him one last, long look before she exhaled shakily and pushed past him, resuming her way home at a brisk pace.

Alex sighed. “That could’ve gone worse.”

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

MAGGIE

She sat on the floor in the walk-in closet, her laptop beside her with one of Julie and the Phantoms’ videos paused and the contents of three separate boxes with photos strew out on the floor around her.

She didn’t have a lot of photos from when she and Reggie had been little, because her father had been a drunk and a homophobic piece of crap who’d tried to get rid of everything that Reggie had ever touched when he’d realized Reggie liked boys. She’d been able to save a few things and pictures—her mother, in a rare fit of clarity, had helped her hide the boxes with pictures until she moved out at seventeen—and hadn’t really dared look at most of them since Reggie had died.

She didn’t know what to make of—of anything that had happened today.

It seemed so impossible, but the feel of Alex’s skin under her fingers had been real, the contact information he’d put into her phone was real, was a real house in a nice neighborhood that looked exactly like the house in the first video she’d watched.

“Sweetheart?”

“In here,” Maggie replied quietly, barely looking up when T’Nia walked in.

She was staring at a photo of her ten-year-old brother holding her as a baby, tears running down her cheeks silently. “Hey,” T’Nia said quietly, kneeling beside her, wiping at her tears gently. “Hey, what’s wrong, darling?”

“Nothing,” Maggie choked. Then, “Everything. I don’t know.” She looked up at her wife and asked, quietly, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

T’Nia leaned back on her heels, frowning a little in confusion. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “You know I believe that there’s much more to the world than we know, than we experience, but… I don’t know if that means ghosts, or God or something else entirely.” She ran her fingers gently through the loose strand of hair that had fallen across Maggie’s forehead and tucked it behind her ear.

“Why the question?”

Maggie looked down at the picture again and then gestured to the laptop. “See for yourself.”

T’Nia eyed her speculatively, and then, warily, drew the laptop closer and pressed ‘play’.

--------

Start from the beginning:

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure:

(1)  (2) (3)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

[writingsofawonderer]

Rivalry — Part 2

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Strong language.

Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Olivia was gone long before Calum woke up the next morning. He wasn’t at all surprised, but there was a part of him that wished, just once, she would stay. He hadn’t planned on developing feelings for the twin sister of the person he hated most in the world. Sure, he’d wanted her since the very first time he saw her, but he’d thought that it was purely lust. Of course, he never thought that he’d act on it in the first place, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that things didn’t go as he planned.

He was pulling his shirt on as he came down the staircase, not caring if anyone saw the scratches on his back or the hickeys on his neck and chest. Ashton was already in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, when Calum entered. Ashton was one of Calum’s closest friends. He even knew that Calum had feelings for someone that he was sleeping with. Calum hadn’t told him that it was Olivia, though; the only person who knew that was his best friend, Luke. He wasn’t surprised that as soon as Ashton saw him, he could tell that he was in a mood. “What’d she do this time?”

“Nothing new.” Calum huffed, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot. “I just hate falling asleep with her in my arms and waking up with her gone.”

“Have you told her that yet?”

Calum gave Ashton an exasperated look. “You know I can’t. She barely wants to talk to me as things are. I swear she’s only in it for the sex.”

He heard a chuckle behind him before a new voice said, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not everyone is afraid of human connection, Mike.” Ashton defended. “Cal, I’m sure it won’t go as badly as you think it will. At least try, yeah?”

Calum nodded but didn’t reply. He could already guess what would happen if he tried to tell Olivia how he was feeling. She would probably reject him and never speak to him again, which he really didn’t want to happen. He figured being with her at all was better than scaring her away.

A few hours later, he and his teammates were at the stadium, where he knew he would see her again. As they walked onto the field to begin warming up, he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to the stands, right to where Olivia was sitting with her parents and younger sister. He tried not to scowl at the jersey that she was wearing the, opposing team’s colors clear for everyone to see.

He should have been used to it. After all, she’d been wearing those colors long before they started hooking up. At that point, though, he wasn’t sure that he’d ever get used to it. Sometimes he imagined looking up and seeing her wearing his colors, his last name on the back of her shirt instead of her brother’s, cheering for him instead of Oliver.

His attention shifted to the man in question. The bane of his fucking exsistence. If not for Oliver, he doubted Olivia would have a problem with being seen around Calum in public. They might even have been officially dating by then if not for fucking Oliver.

Calum honestly wasn’t even sure why they hated each other so much. Oliver had some unknown grudge against Calum, and eventually the constant jabs and cocky remarks had pissed Calum off enough that it had turned into a full on rivalry.

It was pretty clear to everyone that the tension had gotten worse between the two in the past month. Calum had been getting increasingly frustrated about his feelings for Olivia and the person who stood in his way, and he’d absolutely been taking it out on him on the field and over social media.

The game was pretty brutal. Both Calum and Oliver playing at their best, trying to outdo the other. Calum’s gaze flickered to the girl in the crowd whenever it could. Every once in a while, he would catch her already looking at him, a small smirk on her lips. When his team won, he had hoped to see her standing, cheering for him, but she wasn’t. When he looked at her, there was only a trace of a smile on her lips, and it quickly vanished as her mother turned to tell her something.

He huffed and turned back to his team. The win probably would’ve taken his mind off of her if not for the person who approached him just then. “Hood.”

He looked at Michael and rolled his eyes before turning to face Oliver. “What, Jennings?”

“I know you cheated. When I figure out how, you’re done.”

“Oh, fuck off. You lost fair and square because we’re better than you.”

“No way. I know you did something.” Oh, how Calum wanted to tell Oliver just what, exactly, he had done; what he had done to his sister, specifically. His momentary silence gave Oliver a chance to rip into him again. “And don’t think no one noticed those fucking hickeys on your neck. Honestly, I feel bad for whatever slut you convinced-”

“Shut the fuck up.” The rage in Calum’s voice was enough to silence everyone in hearing distance; which, he quickly realized, included Olivia.

He saw her eyebrows shoot up and her lips part in surprise. He hoped that she’d heard what Oliver said so that she wouldn’t think he was the one picking the fight. Luckily, Oliver wasn’t done talking. “What? Are you whipped, Hood? Does your little whore have-”

He didn’t get to finish because suddenly Calum was lunging at him fist first. He got one good hit in before he was being pulled back. He saw a few guys holding Oliver back, and suddenly Olivia was there, standing between the two seething men.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Oliver yelled, struggling against his teammates.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that!” Calum replied. He convinced Michael that he wasn’t going to attack again and shook him off.

“Ollie, why don’t we just go, okay?” Olivia said, her voice stern. “You don’t want to get in a fight right now.”

Oliver’s anger visibly lessened, but when he looked over her shoulder at Calum he scowled again. “Are you taking his side? Against your own brother?”

“Don’t know why she wouldn’t. You’re a bit of a prick, mate.” Calum cringed at Michael’s words, though he didn’t disagree.

“Of course, I’m on your side. I just don’t want you getting hurt. It’s not worth it.” Calum heard what sounded like desperation in her voice and knew that if he didn’t walk away, she would end up blaming him for the fight, if she didn’t already.

So, he huffed out a ‘whatever’ and grabbed his duffle, turning and walking off the field. He heard his team starting to follow him, and ignored Oliver’s taunts to the best of his ability.

Back in the car, his team quickly recovered from their surprise and started celebrating again. No one mentioned the fight. And they sure as hell didn’t bring up Calum’s mystery girl.

❁❁❁❁

After getting showered, Calum convinced the boys to go for celebratory drinks. He chose Rudy’s partially because he knew Oliver wouldn’t be there, and partially because he knew that it was Olivia’s favorite bar, so there was a good chance she would be there.

His eyes scanned every table and booth in the place while he waited on his beer. As they walked to join Ashton and Michael at their booth, Luke cleared his throat. “If you want… I can tell Cara we’re here. I’m sure she’ll drag Liv and Jessie along with her.”

“I think I might’ve pissed her off earlier. It was stupid to punch her brother right in front of her.”

“She’s smart, Cal. And she knows that her brother can be a dick. Trust me.” Luke said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text Cara.”

Before Calum could protest again, Luke had already sent the message. As they settled into the booth, Michael turned to Calum. “Alright. Let’s talk about what happened earlier. I’ve never seen you that mad at Jennings.”

“You shouldn’t talk about women like that.” He answered, avoiding eye contact.

Michael scoffed. “Look, I know you’ve been hooking up with this chick for a few months now, but you can’t seriously have feelings for her. You would’ve at least told us her name if you did.”

“She doesn’t want anyone to know.”

��So she’s ashamed of you or something? You can’t be serious.”

“Knock it off, Mikey.” Luke said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do- do you know who it is? You told Luke?”

He hadn’t told Luke. Luke had figured it out on his own after seeing both Olivia and himself suddenly have hickeys enough times that he knew it wasn’t a coincidence. When he asked Calum about it, he didn’t hesitate to tell him the truth. He had already been considering telling him, anyway. Luke inhaled sharply and gave Calum an apologetic look.

“I didn’t tell Luke. He figured it out.” Luckily, Michael didn’t seem too offended, just a little hurt. “Trust me, Mike. If I could talk about it, I’d tell everyone.”

“The girls are here!” Luke said, sitting up straighter and waving at his girlfriend.

Calum looked up. When he saw Olivia, his mouth felt dry. She had changed out of that god awful jersey into high waisted black skinny jeans and a cropped, maroon, velvet tank top. She had straightened her hair, something he didn’t see her do often. He must’ve been gaping, because when she locked eyes with him a cocky smirk grew on her lips. Quickly, he cleared his throat and looked away, a hand moving to scratch the back of his neck.

He remembered the first time he’d seen her with her hair straightened. It was the night that they had first hooked up. They’d been around each other a few times since their best friends were dating, but they hadn’t really ever spoken to each other. He’d always had a little bit of a thing for her, but that night was different. He had come in after a loss and couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Eventually, she had confronted him about it.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” She raised both of her eyebrows. “You’ve been staring at me for the past two hours.”

He took a few seconds to respond, deciding if he should say what he was thinking or not. “Can’t help it. You look good.”

“Thanks.” She blinked in surprise. “You’re not too bad yourself, Hood. Black’s a good color on you.”

“Thanks, doll.”

She bit her bottom lip, drawing his attention. They looked very soft; he found himself imagining what kissing her would feel like. “No problem.”

“You wouldn’t want to get out of here, would you?” Normally, he wouldn’t have been so bold, but the alcohol buzzing through him and the way she was looking at him had Calum convinced that she was going to say yes.

To his dismay, she giggled. “Does that line normally work for you?”

“Normally, I don’t need any lines.” He winked.

“I’ll tell you what.” She said, a sinful smile on her red painted lips. “Tell me exactly what you want to do to me if I let you take me home. If I like your pitch, I’m all yours.”

A hushed silence fell over them as the girls arrived at their table. Cara slid in next to Luke. “What are you boys talking about?”

Michael immediately piped up. “Cal’s mystery girl.”

To her credit, she didn’t even flinch. Olivia raised an eyebrow, a curious look on her face, but Calum knew that she was probably freaking out inside. Jessie gasped, “Really? I saw the fight on facebook earlier. Who is she? Do you love her?”

Olivia looked amused as she leaned over the back of the booth. “Yeah, Cal. Do you? I mean, you must like her to have punched Ollie like that.”

“I didn’t like what he was saying about her.”

“Well, don’t keep us in the dark. Who is it?” Cara asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Calum said. “Let’s move on.”

“Actually, Calum, can I talk to you? About earlier.” Olivia spoke up.

He nodded and slid out of his end of the booth to follow Olivia outside. Once they were away from prying ears, she stopped and turned to him with her arms crossed to protect herself from the slight chill in the air. “I’m sorry about Oliver. He was a dick today.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, doll. You’re the one he was attacking.”

She nodded, sighing. “It was very sweet of you to punch him for me.”

“Someone had to.” She nodded, stepping towards him as someone walked past. One of his hands instinctively reached out to rest on her hip. “You look really good tonight, by the way.”

She smirked and leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. “I chose this outfit for you.”

He groaned, leaning his head to rest on the brick wall. “Don’t do this to me when we have to go back in there.”

He desperately wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to let her guard down enough to be seen with him like that in public; his hand on her hip, her’s resting on his chest. Noticing the shift in his attitude, she frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” At her disillusioned look, he conceded. “I want to kiss you.”

“Cal-”

“I know. We can’t.” He cringed at the hostility in his voice.

“Are you- are you mad at me?” She said, incredulously. “If we get caught-”

“So what if we do?”

“Calum, I like being with you; and if Oliver finds out, we can’t do this anymore.”

Sometimes it really annoyed him that she was so loyal to her brother. “Why not?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to ruin my relationship with my brother over who I’m having sex with.”

“What if it wasn’t just sex? What if it was more?”

“What?” She took a small step back, as if his statement had been a strong gust of wind.

“I want more, Liv. I want to be with you.”

“Calum…”

“We don’t need to tell anyone. Not until we know if it’ll go anywhere. Let me take you out. We can get dinner or coffee or something.” His heart was beating out of his chest. He couldn’t believe that he was really asking her out in the middle of a fight.

“If Oliver-“

“Stop thinking about your fucking brother! What do you want, Olivia? Or is it just about sex for you?” Calum knew he was close to losing his temper. He was glad that she didn’t seem afraid, but wished it hadn’t come to that in the first place.

She met his eyes, hers full of uncertainty. The anger in her voice melted at the sound of the pain in his. “I… I don’t know. Let me think about it, okay?”

“Whatever.” He scoffed and went back inside, not waiting to see if she would follow him. He really hadn’t expected to get in a fight with both of the twins that day.

[shadowsong26fic]

Milestone Bonus Fic #2: Electric Boogaloo

Title: Box of Memories (Precipice Bonus Fic)

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Leia Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Just the general background stuff going on in the fic proper–war, separation, etc. Nothing on-page.

Summary: Anakin and Leia and a box of letters/mementos of Luke and Padme.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Note: In honor of this fic lasting three whole years omg.

Leia was up even earlier than usual--probably just ‘cause her brain still wanted it to be whatever time it was on Alderaan--and found herself way too restless and awake to go back to sleep. Or stay in bed.

Not that there was much she could do about it. Pacing back and forth in her room probably wouldn’t do much good. But the rule was, she wasn’t supposed to go outside alone after dark; and even if it was probably technically before light at this point, she didn’t feel like testing that loophole right now.

Besides. She had a real Opportunity here. Aunt Beru had mentioned veldtberry cookies, and if no one was awake to catch her snooping…

That decided, Leia slipped out of bed and crept over to the door, drawing on all the sneaking lessons that Aunt ‘Soka had given her over the years. The door slid open with a very, very faint whoosh; the hall outside was empty and quiet. Just like it should be, at three-thirty in the morning.

Still, she very carefully reached out with her senses, checking for any kind of trouble--Aunt ‘Soka and Uncle Rex had made it in sometime while she was asleep; but they were on the other side of the house so she didn’t have to worry about waking them up. Same with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Uncle Obi-Wan was on this side, but she was between him and the kitchen, so as long as she was very careful with this first bit, she’d be fine.

That just left sneaking past Dad.

Who was awake, drat.

…why was Dad awake at three-thirty in the morning, anyway?

Even if she didn’t make it all the way to the kitchen, Leia decided, that was a question she should probably answer.

She crept down the hallway without any trouble, picking a spot to hover just outside the little rectangle of light spilling out of his open door, but where she could just barely see inside. It wasn’t Cover, like Uncle Rex had taught her how to find, but it would hopefully  be enough for this.

Dad was sitting on his bed, with his regular leg tucked up under him and the metal one hanging over the edge, so it wouldn’t dig in in weird spots. Just like she’d seen him a thousand thousand times before.

Except, instead of working on one of his mechanical projects, he was going through a box she’d never seen before, filled with what looked like holos, and maybe bits of flimsi, or other things she couldn’t see too well from her angle.

She could probably still sneak past, if she wanted to try for the cookies--he seemed pretty focused on what he was doing--but she was even more curious now. Especially ‘cause the holo he pulled up next, of a little kid all covered in yellow paint, looked an awful lot like Luke…

Before she could make a decision, Dad looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, princess?” he asked. “It’s late. Early. …whatever.”

“I woke up,” she said. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Time change?”

“Think so.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I get that. But it’s easier to readjust if you at least lie down and get up as close to the right time as you can.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes a little, because she did. She had done this before. Maybe not as much as he had, but still.

Dad smiled a little, then glanced over at the holo. “…well, as long as we’re both up…”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere,” he said, shifting over and moving the box to his lap so there was room for her to join him. “I wanna show you some things.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. “That’s Luke, right?” she asked, pointing at the picture.

“Mmhmm,” he said. “Senator Organa gave that one to Uncle Obi-Wan not long after it was taken. I don’t have very many, but that’s one of my favorites.”

Leia tilted her head, considering it. “I like it too,” she decided. “He looks…happy.”

“He does,” Dad agreed. “And I think the color suits him. Nice and…sunshiney.”

Which meant something different than the baking heat of the suns here, at double noon. She could tell just from the way he said it.

“Yeah,” she said.

He skimmed through a few more holos--not many of Luke, like he’d said, but a couple more of Mom, probably from back during the Clone War; one of what was probably their wedding day, in the green place from Leia’s dreams. “Here, this one,” he said, stopping on one of Mom, looking serious and standing next to Senator Bail, holding what must’ve been Luke, with one tiny hand sticking out of the pile of blankets.

“Oh,” she said. “I guess…”

That was the last time we saw them, ‘til Alderaan.

“Yeah,” he said. “…uh. Right. Sorry, that’s a sad one, not sure why I stopped there.” He set the holos aside, and dug into the box instead.

It was full of all kinds of little things--pressed flowers; a few shards of crystal or pieces of metal that seemed pretty; a ring on a thin golden chain; scraps of lace that looked like they came from the dress in the maybe-wedding picture.

And there were, like she’d thought, stacks of flimsi, covered in delicate handwriting, all tied together with yellow ribbons.

She looked up at him, and he nodded, giving her permission to take a few of the things out, and handle them.

Leia didn’t have the--she forgot what the name of it was, but there was a Force gift, where you could touch things and read their history. But even without that, holding these little things, the lace especially, she felt…warm. And sad. And a little bit lonely. But mostly…mostly loved, something pure and powerful that echoed through the Force even to her.

All from these tiny little things--these bits and pieces of Mom and Dad’s life, the one they’d started to build for her and Luke to share--the one they all could have had, if the Emperor hadn’t ruined everything…

She closed her eyes, breathed out, and set the lace back into the box.

“I probably shouldn’t keep these,” he admitted, resting his hand on one of the flimsi packets. “But…I like having them. It’s a way of keeping your mom and Luke close to me.”

“Yeah,” she said, softly, leaning into him a little. “Can I read them sometime? The letters?”

“Uh,” Dad said. “Not…right now, princess. But maybe someday.”

“Okay,” she said, a little disappointed--but not a whole lot. There were at least ten years’ worth of memories in that box. It was probably better to take her time going through them.

…huh. Maybe Aunt ‘Soka’s lectures on patience are actually paying off…

“Okay,” Dad said, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. “Love you, princess.”

“Love you too, Daddy,” she said, wriggling to get her arms at the right angle to hug him back.

He kissed the top of her head then let go, before glancing over at the chrono. “…what do you say to some breakfast, princess, huh?”

She blinked at him. “It’s really early,” she said.

“Sure,” he said. “But I get the feeling neither of us is gonna get anymore sleep. Besides, breakfast at 0400 is one of my favorite things. Something about it just tastes better when you beat the suns.”

She wasn’t so sure about that, but it would be nice, to have a little more time with just the two of them. Since it didn’t happen all that much, ‘cause he had to be away a lot.

And it would be…good, probably. To do something normal and here and now, after looking at that box of memories.

“Waffles?” she asked.

“I can do waffles,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Maybe some eggs…”

She made a face. “I like waffles,” she said, firmly, and he laughed.

“Yeah, well, I like eggs. You don’t have to eat them.”

“Okay,” she said, hopping off the bed to join him.

He paused a few seconds to put the letters and holos back in the books, then took her hand and led her through the dim house towards the kitchen.

And if there were two empty places beside them…

They had each other, and breakfast at four in the morning, and a little box of memories, hidden away somewhere safe.

That would tide them over, ‘til they finally saw Mom and Luke again.

[vnshkk]

DIR EN GREY 「2018.11.27」The insulated world talk event - Kyo [Part 2]

Hello I am back with part 2 of the transcript.

K- I don’t want to keep taking shots at this one person. But I’m sure you’re aware there is this particular person who has a tendency to do cosplay a lot. That's the kind of stuff I’m talking about. I didn’t need to know about that. Ever. (Laughing)

Transcript credit goes to @dirphys6011 on twitter 

M- Is there anything mysterious about Toshiya-san

K- To be honest, not that I’ve seen. I can’t say we really talk much. Unlike with some members who you end up seeing something even if you don’t want to. (laughing) 

(Audience laughs)

K- He made the chorus very unique. Actually, I originally wanted everyone to sing the chorus. But when it came down to it everyone was like “Which one of us is gonna sing it?” I was like No, no, no that’s not what I meant at all. (laughing)

(Audience laughs)

K- Like at lives only one person sings and the fans have particular points where they sing to right? It made it like that which isn’t what I wanted at all. (Laughing)

M- Next lets hear a little about Die-san.

K- I’d say Die-kun is probably the one I speak to the most.

M- He has an image of being quite the drinker however he recently gave up drinking. Kyo-san are you much of a drinker? 

K- I wouldn’t exactly call myself a drinker but recently I’m really into smoking shisha. My favourite thing to do these days is to put on a film and have one glass of sweet alcohol whilst smoking shisha. 

M- You used to smoke cigarettes before, are you completely off those? 

K- Yeah I don’t smoke cigarettes anymore. The smell sticks to your clothes and leaves a horrible taste in your mouth. It’s a no go for me. 

M- Same for cigars and such?

K- Yeah. 

M- No more cigarettes or cigars and Die-san quit drinking. 

K- I hope everyone can be healthy. 

M- Die-san has certainly changed a lot compared to back then hasn’t he? Back in the days he had short hair that gave him this really manly image but he’s got this luscious, shiny hair. (laughing) 

K- It's very bewitching isn’t it. I think he’d suit purple clothes. 

(Audience laughs)

M- How about Kaoru-san? Recently it seems like his hair colours are enough to rival yours

K- This might be a bit odd to say, but I actually much preferred it when he had his black permed hair and wore no make up. Recently it’s…kinda too unlike him? Like he’s reliving his youth or something? (Laughing) 

(Audience Laughs)

K- I wonder if something happened to him? (Laughing)

M- He’s got an exhibition coming up soon, it seems like he’s very busy with various things too. 

K- Everyone please go check it out. I found out about the exhibition pretty much at the same time as the fans did. I was like “Wow I didn’t know he could draw like this” It was very refreshing in a good way. 

M- Right, if you think just because you’ve spent all this time talking about the 4 members you turn won’t come then you are very much mistaken. (Laughing)

K- Honestly, there’s really no need to talk about me. (awkward laugh) 

M- So, you’ve been overseas many times now. Do you feel as if it's changed the way you see things or affected you in some kind of way?

K- Not remotely. Even since the first time I went it’s been like this but, whenever it’s time to go all I can think is “I don’t want to go”

M- What is it that you dislike so much? 

K- The people are massive, the toilets don’t have seats, some of them don’t even have doors….

M- I suppose it would be difficult to get used to an environment like that. But saying you don’t want to go.. 

K- Everyone wants me to go. 

(Audience  laughs) 

M- Although recently the amount of overseas people coming to see Dir en grey has been increasing hasn’t it? 

M- Getting to London was a bit of a mission wasn’t it? Having to take the Bus across on the ferry, plus the amount of time traveling. I bet you couldn’t sleep at all? 

K- I mean, I spent the whole time inside the bus. Everyone else went outside. 

M- Didn’t interest you at all?

K- Nope. Plus it was cold.

(Audience laughs)

M- What did you eat for lunch today? 

K- Mcdonald’s.

M- Are you serious?! (Laughing)

K- Yeah, they got this new thing where there’s load of nuggets. I had that. 

M- By the way, what will you be having for dinner today? 

K- Ive ordered a pizza to be delivered to the green room. 

M- This all has a very American food vibe to it (laughing) 

M - I know you’re not really a reckless person but what’s the drive behind creating so many new projects one after another?

K- I suppose it’s a sense of not wanting to become luke warm. Back in the day it felt more as if we had to just keep putting stuff out indefinitely, even if at times we didn’t particularly want to. But looking back, I feel that because of that a lot of new stuff came into fruition. Maybe some people just want to seem like they’re this big influential figure but that’s not why I do it. That doesn’t apply to all the members though. Especially who we were on about earlier…(Shinya) 

(Audience laughs)

K- I think it’s better not to become as wishy-washy as he is. 

M- Is there any particular way of thinking you would say helps bandmen not to become so wishy-washy? 

K- I’d say just don’t reveal so much. Theres another side to all the members. Although, sometimes you end up seeing it even if you don’t want to. 

K- I don’t want to keep taking shots at this one person. But I’m sure you’re aware there is this particular person who has a tendency to do cosplay a lot. That's the kind of stuff I’m talking about. I didn’t need to know about that. Ever. (Laughing)

(Audience bursts into laugher)

M- Ok, well how about if someone said to you tomorrow you have to cosplay, What would you cosplay as? 

K- Melon bread. 

(Audience laughing) 

M- Do you love it that much? (Laughing) 

K- I do. 

M- What does 2019 hold for DIR EN GREY? 

K- I want to release a triple CD album. But…I dunno..it’s probably not possible. 

M- I suppose it’s not really possible to release a collection of work like that right away is it? 

K- No it's not. You have to start from scratch. 

M- Although clearly the feeling and drive to put out 3 CDs worth of songs is there. (Laughing) I’m sure with that in mind something will come from it. 

K- You’re going to mention this to the other members aren’t you? Make sure you tell them what you just said to me when you do. 

(Audience laughs) 

M- If a 3 CD album is too difficult what about a 3 CD single? (Laughing) 

Well it appears that the end of our time today has unfortunately come. Everyone, did you enjoy yourself today?

(Big applause from the audience)

K- I'm happy to hear that. 

(Audience laughs) 

M- Everyone, let's have one last big round of applause for Kyo-san! 

[ninwrites]

just for the night

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Words: 4446

Summary:

the first time alec chooses to stay the night

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written as a belated birthday present for @maryatthecomiccon ❤

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Read on AO3 or below the cut xx

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There’s sauce dripping down his fingertips, trailing across the back of his hands and, more than likely, smeared across his mouth – and yet, Magnus already counts this as one of the best dates he’s ever been on. This assessment could have a fair amount to do with the person sitting across from him, in a snug booth at the back of a cozy, hole-in-the-wall burger joint in the East Village – in fact, Magnus would lay good money on Alec’s presence being the sole reason for his increasingly exultant mood.

The whole affair has been a pleasant surprise.

Alec had called him up earlier, sounding mixed parts cautious and hopeful, to ask if he’d be free for the night. (As it so turned out, he wasn’t, but it only took a quick fire message to clear up his evening and rearrange his ‘meeting’ with Raphael to another night.) Alec had set the time, and Magnus had arranged the place, remembering Alec’s offhanded comment after the fateful fatty tuna night in Tokyo; a simple, casual night out seemed the perfect sequential date, and truthfully, Magnus wanted something a little more intimate, a little more - them.

As of yet, it’s been the best decision he’s made all evening - the music is an inviting mix of jazz and pop, the food is perfectly greasy and simple without compromising on taste, and the atmosphere is alluring and warm - yet it is above all the company that has made the evening a delight.

“I kind of don’t want this night to end,” Alec admits, with slick fingertips wrapped in paper-thin napkins and a smile that’s only saucy in the condiment sense.

“Time is a fickle thing, for warlocks.” Magnus bends the straw of his soda, watching the crinkles form in the striped red-and-white plastic, toeing the line between honesty and reservation. “Yet I find myself inexplicably wishing for the same.”

Alec frowns, the corner of his mouth twisted down in thought. It’s an opening, though he doesn’t realise it, because dating is still a grand and confusing new landscape for him, and he’s too honest to lace his words with unspoken meanings - anything he says, he means, with the utmost sincerity.

Magnus isn’t above lying, let alone to Shadowhunters - and least of all for the purposes of survival - but there’s something about Alec, about his steadfast, if sometimes misaligned sense of morality that makes Magnus want to be honest, to tell Alec how he feels with only the slightest reservation that it might be overwhelming.  

“We could have nightcaps, at my loft.” Magnus suggests, scrunching the wrapper of the straw in his other hand, already anticipating Alec’s gentle refusal, a sympathetic but firm “I really should be getting back to the Institute” .

“I’d like that,” Alec replies, instead, another surprise, though one that Magnus probably should have expected, considering all the ways that Alec has surprised him before. His eyes are lit with an undefinable glint that Magnus would dare to call coy, if Alec were the type, although there is something undoubtedly flirtatious about the way he reaches across the table, his fingers tracing an idle pattern against the back of Magnus’ hand.

“Lead the way.”

There’s an effortless solace to Magnus’ loft that Alec has never quite felt anywhere else - he hasn’t spent a lot of time here, all things considered, and yet there’s a sense of comfort that settles over him as soon as he’s stepped out of the portal Magnus conjured, a warmth that seeps slowly into his bones, as though the loft is welcoming him in.

As though, inexplicably, it knows more than they do.

“Would you like a drink?” Magnus asks, waving his hand towards the drinks cart, almost forgetting that the other was still wrapped around Alec’s.

“Just water would be nice, please.” Alec can feel his cheeks growing pink. “I think I’ve hit my limit of drinks for the night.”

He’s not drunk - he’s only been drunk once, and he’d hated every second of it - but he’s teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and he doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want anything to influence this night, or his perception of it. It may just be a date, but it’s a date with Magnus, and there’s still a heady dose of novelty to it all that he hopes never wanes.

“There are many jokes here about Shadowhunters and lightweights,” Magnus squeezes Alec’s hand. “But I’ll refrain from making them this time.”

Alec laughs, a bubbling sound that comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “That’s very kind of you.”

Magnus, preens, his skin taking on a particularly bright glow . “I am but a simple man of honour.”

“That sounds like a little bit of an understatement,” Alec admits. “Simple has never been a word I’ve associated with you - not to say that is a bad thing! It’s not, of course, you’re amazing, I just meant-”

Magnus lifts their joined hands, brushing a kiss against the back of Alec’s hand. “I think I know what you mean, Alexander. Thank you.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth tugs up in a half-smile, the tips of his ears burning red. Magnus leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Alec’s bright cheek. “I’ll get the drinks - we can sit on the couch, if you’d like, or the balcony, it’s quite a lovely night.”

Alec glances to the couch, where he’d shared his energy with Magnus, where he’d first held him, where he’d spent the night sprawled along the cushions because Magnus had insisted that the Institute was too far and Alec hadn’t been able to find a good reason to counter otherwise.

“The couch is fine,” He says, which is to say, a lot of good things have happened there, and part of him is hoping more good things will follow.

Magnus just smiles, as though he knows something that Alec doesn’t, or perhaps is just amused at Alec’s attempts to play off his decision as something casual, and turns towards the drinks cart. He tinkers there for awhile, and Alec sinks into the couch, contemplating why it’s so peculiar to him that Magnus would make their drinks by hand - he’s not so naive as to believe that warlocks, or indeed Magnus himself, are so dependent on magic as to be wholly incompetent without the use of it.

Maybe it’s just a matter of curiosity - Alec can’t deny that if he had the power at his fingertips that Magnus does, he probably wouldn’t do a lot without it.

Magnus returns a moment later, a glass of ice water for Alec and a dry martini for himself. Alec takes his glass with a grateful smile, focusing on the condensation against his fingertips and not the bristling electricity that sparks where Magnus’ knee touches his own.

“Magnus,” Alec rests his glass against his leg. “Can I ask you a question?”

Magnus inclines his head, taking a delicate sip from his glass. “Of course.”

“This might be really dumb, but - why, don’t you use magic for everything? Isn’t it … easier?”

The ghost of a smile hovers as Magnus ruminates Alec’s question. He traces his pinky finger around the rim of his glass, letting errand sparks cascade around the edges. “In some ways, I suppose. I’ve always believed that hard work would get me further than my magic could, and I doubt I would have reached the potential that I have without a healthy balance of both.”

He makes eye contact with Alec, resting his shoulder against the back of the couch. “The day that Luke was brought in, writhing in agony on this very couch, I had to borrow your energy to help heal him. If I had squandered that energy on something as simple as stirring sugar into my coffee or making my bed, then I wouldn’t have been able to heal Luke as quickly. That isn’t to say that I don’t use my magic on terribly mundane things, but I try not to get into the habit of doing everything with magic.”

Alec hums. “I never thought about it that way before - I always thought, if I had magic, I’d just … use it for everything.”

“Most young warlocks think that way,” Magnus acknowledges. “However, after a few centuries it becomes a little unrealistic to maintain. Of course, everyone has their weaknesses - I have quite the unfortunate penchant for summoning things that I need, often without a second thought.”

Alec bumps his shoulder against Magnus’. “I can’t say that I blame you. And anybody who does is probably just jealous that they can’t do the same.”

“You have a very refreshing outlook on the world, Alexander.” Magnus raises his glass, and after a belated second, Alec lifts his own, a light clink echoing after they touch. “I only wish that more people considered things the way that you do.”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever been told that before,” Alec replies. It sounds like a compliment, judging by the warmth of Magnus’ tone and the way his gaze is lit up.

Magnus smiles, and it’s like everything around them just, stops. “The world seems truly magnificent through your eyes - I’m jaded, but you … you have so much hope.”

“I never really, used to.” Alec confesses, toying with the condensation of his glass.”Before, I met you. Now, though - I never thought I’d come out. But I did, thanks to your encouragement, and support, and it’s given me hope, because if I can do the impossible, if I can be an out and proud gay Shadowhunter … there isn’t really anything I can’t do.”

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, sounding both parts bittersweet and awestruck, before surging forward, managing to spell their drinks onto the table before drawing Alec into a deep kiss that sends sparks down Alec’s spine and makes his toes curl in his boots.

“You’re incredible,” Magnus gushes, pulling back only far enough for him to look Alec in the eye, his hands grasping either side of Alec’s face. “I don’t know if I’ve told you that, before, but you are.”

Alec wraps his hands around Magnus’ upper arms, fingers curled tight in the fabric of his silk shirt. “Ditto,” He breathes out - it’s not the word he wants to say, but the sentiment remains the same, and he finds it hard to regret anything when it makes Magnus giggle .

It’s a sound he’d do anything to hear again - to hear Magnus sounding so light and carefree and young.

He leans in, slowly, tracking the way Magnus’ gaze falls to his lips and then shoots back up, the way Magnus subconsciously licks his bottom lip even as his eyes bore into Alec’s, the way the air between them seems to crackle with potential even as the distance shortens, until Alec’s lips are folding gently against Magnus’, slow and attentive. He’s still learning, how to make a moment last what feels like forever, how to make Magnus’ eyes flutter shut, how to make him feel as wonderfully on-edge as he does Alec.

Alec might be new, to this, to relationships, to Magnus, but he’s always been told that he’s a quick learner, and he’s very invested in kissing Magnus until the rest of the world falls away, because nothing matters in a moment like that as much as the wonders of the man before him.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, as Alec tracks soft pecks along the length of his jaw, curious about the bristle of stubble along the underside and the shadow of cologne drifting across his neck. Magnus’ hands have fallen to Alec’s shoulders, wound around his neck like a lifeline, and his back arcs forward when Alec scrapes the barest hint of teeth beneath his ear, because it feels right, and he wants to.

There’s still a lot of exhilaration to be found from doing things purely because he wants to.

“If I didn’t,” Magnus exhales a low breath, which trickles against Alec’s cheek and into the outer shell of his ear. “If I didn’t know better, I’d presume that you’re - that you’re teasing, me.”

Alec grins, just slightly, dotting a kiss to the curve of Magnus’ cheek, just below his temple. “Why would I do that?”

Magnus parts his mouth to speak, but no words come out, replaced instead by a delicate gasp that sends a shiver down Alec’s spine, even as he focuses on the spread of his hand beneath Magnus’ shirt, against his lower abdomen, heat thrumming against the center of his palm. Magnus’ fingers dig into his shoulders, but it’s far from painful, and worth it still for the gleam in his eyes when his head ducks closer to Alec’s.

“Because you’re a menace,” He whispers against the corner of Alec’s mouth. Within the blink of a second, he’s pushed Alec back onto the couch, his hands curved against Alec’s shoulders, grin a mile wide and as mischievous as it is bright.

“Luckily,” He adds, with a wink that is far less cheesy than it should be. “So am I.”

Alec’s heart thuds against his ribs, so steady and fast that it wouldn’t be a surprise to learn that Magnus can feel it - he sucks in a deep breathe, letting it exhale slowly, his attention focused solely on Magnus, his skin prickling with anticipation. Only … it seems as though they’re at something of a stalemate; Alec can’t move, for all that Magnus has him pinned to the couch, but Magnus isn’t moving, his hips hovering inches above Alec’s with a remarkable and envious strength that Alec would, on another day, have a lot of appreciation for.

“Magnus?” Alec asks, reaching up slowly to hook his fingers through the loops of Magnus’ belt. “Is everything okay?”

Magnus nods, but it’s stilted, and there’s a faraway glimmer in his eyes that betrays any confidence. “It just occurred to me,” He explains, in a low murmur, almost as though he’s speaking aloud, instead of directly to Alec. “That I never quite asked you, what you wanted from this evening. I promised drinks, but this - this is far from that.”

“I like where the evening has transpired,” Alec admits, heat creeping up his neck. “I can’t say that I expected it, when I asked if you were free, but I’m not complaining.” His hands tighten against Magnus’ hips. “Far from it.

Magnus’ lips are pursed, but he seems receptive to Alec’s assurances. “I should have asked what you wanted,” He refutes. “You’re still so new to being able to have what you want…”

Alec shrugs, as well as he can with his shoulders pushed to the arm of the couch. His instinct is to reply ‘I want you,’ but it’s a little too forward for their third date, and he’s not quite there - yet. This, this between them now, this is good. “I want to spend time with you. This seems like a pretty fun way to do it.”

Magnus hums, his thumb stroking Alec’s collarbone thoughtfully. “It is pretty fun,”

Alec grins, sliding his hand up until it rests against the small of Magnus’ back, fingers pressed encouragingly to his spine. “I’m having a blast.” He comments, delighted to find even as he says it that it’s true, not an exaggeration but the whole, effortless truth.

Magnus must see it, the glow that’s residing in his chest or something deeper than that, because a sense of serenity settles in his expression, and then he’s slowly lowering his hips until they’re parallel to Alec’s, until the buckle of his belt is pressing into his stomach, his head bowed over Alec’s.

Magnus looks beautiful, all sharp angles and bright eyes, and Alec is struck with the sinking reminder that he’ll have to leave soon, because the world is wider than just the bubble they’ve built around themselves, and time doesn’t actually stop when they’re together, even if it feels like it should.

“I have to get back to the Institute,” Alec whispers, not making any effort to move.

Magnus frowns. “Oh.”

“But,” Alec’s heart sticks in his throat. “I don’t want to.”

Before the night of one-too-many-cocktails, Alec had never spent the night away from the Institute - there had been trips to Idris where he’d stayed in the Lightwood family guest house, but he doubts that counts … not like this does.

This is an active step away from the Institute - and yet, he doesn’t feel that scared. Magnus makes him feel safe, and welcome, and he encourages Alec to go after things that he wants, where he otherwise wouldn’t have let himself.

There’s a part of him, increasing in its volume, that wants to know what spending the night at the loft would feel like, that wants to find out how (undoubtedly adorable) Magnus looks once he’s just woken up, what it’s like to wake up to such a presence, to warmth and affection instead of the cold grey walls of his bedroom at the Institute.

Providing, of course, that Magnus wants the same.

“Well, you could always,” Magnus nips at his bottom lip, appearing uncharacteristically shy, “Stay here tonight?”

This is, Alec realises, as big a step for Magnus as it his for himself - his experience with relationships does little to support the firsts of a new one.

“We wouldn’t have to do anything, of course.” Magnus is quick to reassure. “Just sleep.”

Alec traces an idle pattern against the silk of Magnus’ shirt, thinking of how they’d found themselves here, with Magnus’ weight pressing gently against his body, and the ghost of his kiss against Alec’s lips. How intoxicating being this close to Magnus, with no reservations, or responsibilities, nothing stopping him from having fun.

“I don’t know, I, uh … I quite liked what we were doing before?” Alec comments, his neck burning as heat flushes his skin, his confidence better with actions than words. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, more of … that.”

Magnus smiles, slightly, though there’s still some hesitance at the edges. “Is that a yes, then? To staying the night?”

Alec nods, curling his hands in the fabric of Magnus’ shirt. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.” He admits, leaning up to draw Magnus into a deep kiss, because he wants to, and he can, and he’s still not over the thrill that he’s allowed this.

It all feels like an impossibly wonderful dream, and if Alec is to wake up to find that it’s all been pretend, at least he’ll be able to say that he made the most out of it whilst he could.

Magnus is wearing a headband, one of those thin wiry ones with the metal teeth that Isabelle used to scrape across her skull when she was first experimenting with makeup, and all that Alec can think is how uncomfortable it must be.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” He blurts out, because he’s never been able to stop himself from asking dumb questions where Magnus is around - it doesn’t help that Magnus is always so eager to answer even the most ridiculous query.

Magnus frowns, looking at Alec through the reflection of his vanity mirror. He’d insisted that Alec get into bed first, promising not to take too long, which had admittedly involved a little bit of Alec staring at the mountains of pillows and the gold of the bedsheets trying not to be too intimidated whilst also figuring out how to get under them without messing them up too much.

(Magnus had kindly stifled an amused grin and waved his hand, so that the sheets pulled themselves back, leaving a space for Alec to slip in without feeling as though he’s going to ruin Magnus’ pristine set-up.)

Alec had shifted until he was leaning against the headboard, and he hasn't moved since, hands folded in his lap as his mind tries to wrap itself around the knowledge that he is in Magnus Bane’s bed, in another man’s bed, entirely of his own volition, because he fucking can .

There’s a chance that Alec may not end up falling asleep tonight, and he’s perfectly happy with that.

“Does taking my makeup off, hurt?” Magnus asks, for clarification.

Alec shakes his head, his hand smoothing flatly over the bedsheets. “No - I know that, it’s not supposed to, if done properly and everything ... Iz told me that a while ago. I meant,” He taps his temple. “The headband? It looks painful…”

Magnus touches his fingertips to his own temple. “I suppose it used to, when they were first invented, they were a little more like accidental torture devices, but that’s the beauty of time - it provides the chance for improvement. Of course, there are other kinds of headbands, but I prefer the toothed ones, personally, it does a better job of holding my hair away from my face.”

Alec nods, because he understands the theory, even if he can’t imagine practicing it himself. “Can I ask you another question?”

Magnus smiles warmly, folding a clean white cloth while making contact with Alec through the mirror. “You can ask as few or as many questions as you’d like. I’ll do my best to answer them, within reason of course - I may pretend to be omnipotent at times, but I am afraid that I don’t actually know everything.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell anyone,” Alec assures him, sinking back slightly into the pillows behind him. "Best that everyone believes you're truly indomitable."

Magnus swipes the cloth across his forehead. “That’s very kind of you, Alexander. A true gentleman.”

Alec watches Magnus as he continues to take his makeup off, as the mask falls off to reveal something tender and sweet underneath, yet no less powerful. He sits at the vanity, clad in a midnight blue robe with white stars dotted across the fabric, his shoulders pulling firm at the constellations - he’s so elegant, and poised, and he’s letting Alec in, letting Alec see him, unguarded and open.

“Have you always worn makeup?” Alec asks, because he’s never been good at being anything but blunt, and his curiosity often wins out over any hope of subtlety.

Fortunately, Magnus appears to take the comment in stride, idly swiping the makeup cloth along his jaw. “Not at all. Actually, it’s only been the last hundred years or so, I believe. I dabbled in cosmetics throughout the nineteenth century, as was the style of those decades but I didn’t adapt it as a practice for myself until considerably recently. The eighties I recall brought in a lot of encouragement for alternative styles, and I’d long since gotten tired of pretending to be somebody else just to fit in - I've found, that the only way to truly live is for oneself, and not others.”

Alec knows all too well how damaging living by the rules of others can be - he’s still learning how to put himself first, without considering the opinions of others around him, because his business isn’t theirs.

“It’s a slow process,” Magnus turns, glancing at Alec over his shoulder - it must be a strain, Alec thinks, despite Magnus showing little discomfort at the position. “Figuring out who you are, who you want to be, what makes you truly happy - it isn’t easy. And none of your expectations are bound to come completely true, which is as terrifying as it is amazing. There's so much potential to be found when nothing is set in stone. ”

Alec slumps slightly, his thumb pressing against the veins of his wrist, because it’s easier for him to focus on the pressure against his skin than the way Magnus makes him feel, somewhere between safe and alarmingly vulnerable.

“I gave up on being truly happy a long time ago,” He admits, hating how small he sounds. “I never thought I would be able to get what I wanted, so it seemed … ridiculous, to hope. It was a waste of time that I could better spend on my siblings, to make sure that they never had to feel the way I did.”

There’s a scattered tinkling sound, and then Magnus is standing up from his vanity and Alec isn’t sure if it’s a good thing, or if he’s just accidentally interrupted Magnus’ routine with his sob story.

“Alexander,” Magnus kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching out to squeeze Alec’s hands. “Your love for others is beyond admirable, but surely you have to know that you deserve to be happy, too?”

Alec lets the warmth of Magnus’ hands seep into his own, taking comfort in the simple touch. “I’m starting to figure that out. You … you’ve helped with that, a lot. I never expected to choose myself over my responsibility to my parents, to the Clave, but I have - and I don’t regret a thing.”

Magnus’ smile itself would be worth the impromptu cancellation of Alec’s wedding. “I can’t say that I could ever have imagined dating a Shadowhunter - let alone ending up with one in my bed,” He winks, cheesily, and laughter bubbles up into Alec’s throat. “However, I find myself quite pleased with this turn of events.”

Alec grins, unable to help himself. “Yeah, me too.”

In the morning, Alec will wake up with Magnus’ arm wrapped around his waist, and for a second, he will panic - for all that is unknown and new and for how amazing it feels - and then, a second later, he’ll relax into the touch and the feeling of security it brings. Not long afterwards, Magnus will stir, pressing soft kisses to the back of Alec’s neck, struck by the wonder of the universe and how kind it has been in bringing someone as beautiful as Alec Lightwood into his life.

They’ll share Belgian waffles out on the balcony, and Magnus will drink his coffee black with too many sugars because he doesn’t have the heart to tell Alec that he prefers lattes, not after he’d gone to the effort of struggling with the coffee machine that Magnus had surreptitiously brought in after their second date, just in case. Alec will ignore three calls - two from Jace, and one from Isabelle - in favour of spending a few minutes more with Magnus before he has no choice but to return to the real world, and Magnus will recount the only-slightly-exaggerated story of the time he accidentally stole a boat to impress a date, embellishing a few impossible details to see Alec laugh, carefree and unbound.

Alec will linger by the front door, waving off Magnus’ offer of portalling him back, and Magnus will kiss him goodbye seven times, until Alec’s phone is vibrating so much it sounds like it’s going to explode.

It will be their first morning together - but it will be far from their last.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Knock Em Out (Girls Talk Boys Part 29)

You can't knock em out, you can't walk away, Try desperately to think of the politest way to say, "Just get out my face" Just leave me alone", "And no you can't have my number", "'Cause I've lost my phone"

Go away now, let me go, Are you stupid? Or just a little slow? "Please fuck off" Go away now I've made myself clear, I don't think so, Nah it's not gonna happen, Not in a million years

Camille took a sip of the mystery punch in the red cup Calum had just given her and made a face. It was almost too sweet but it helped mask the amount of vodka loaded into it. They were at a house party for one of Calum's buddies, Camille wasn't a fan of the guy, he was older and a bit sketchy in her opinion, but he'd made a real effort with her friends so here she was.

“Easy now babe, we know what a lightweight you can be” Calum teased grinning down at her.

Calum hadn't stopped teasing her about getting shitfaced with Luke last week. They'd been grounded from each other for a month unless they had adult supervision. Calum had threatened to spank her if she broke the rules. So of course she went to Luke's the very next day to see if Calum would back up his threats. Which he did. All of the guys hadn't forgotten her blatantly flirting with Calum either, and some things really stuck.

“What's up King? Your grace,” Michael came up behind them. “About time you fucking made it.”

“Piss off Mikey,” Camille laughed blushing a bit.

“Awww I love drunk Camille, she has no filter and this party is hella lame so far,” Michael pushed her cup towards her.

“Are you kidding this shit tastes like bad decisions and regret. Where'd you get the beer?” Camille pointed to the bottle in his hand.

“Right this way my lady,” Mikey led them over to where Luke and Summer were sitting next to a cooler.

“Hey peanut,” Camille scratched Luke behind the ear and smiled at his girlfriend.

“That dress looks really cute on you Summer,” Camille meant the compliment, the yellow dress played well against her olive skin.

To Camille's surprise she smiled back. “Thanks Camille, you look cute too. I like those shoes.” Summer replied.

Calum had stopped to talk to Ashton and a couple of people Camille didn't know, she tried not to be nervous. The boys were all here and Cal's friends had all been nice to her so far but she couldn't help but notice more than a couple girls lingering around the edges of the group their eyes glued to her boyfriend. She'd been introduced to a couple of them but to be honest they all looked so much alike Camille couldn't tell them apart. They all were tall and thin with the same contoured makeup, same bold eyebrows, and the same lip fillers. She wished Cher had tagged along but Cher hated parties like this and not being officially a girlfriend she wasn't obliged to come.

Calum slid his arms around her shoulders from behind and kissed the top of her head.  The way the smell of sandalwood, leather and tobacco tickled her nose when he wrapped himself around her was intoxicating, the way his chest pressed against her back so she could feel his heartbeat was thrilling. Camille always felt like nothing could hurt her when Calum was holding her. She caught a couple of dirty looks thrown her way, but she tried not to let it bother her. She knew all too well what it was like to be jealous of Calum's girlfriend. He pulled back and smacked her ass “C’mon babe, let’s go play beer pong against Mikey and Crystal”

“I gotta drive us home babe, besides my feet are going to be killing me if I don't sit down for a little bit. I'll come find you in a few minutes.” Camille kissed him on his jaw and pulled up a chair next to Luke.

“Ooh I get to sit with the pretty girls,” Luke winked at Camille and Summer.

The three of them chatted for a bit and Camille took advantage of Summer's good mood to ask her questions about her work.

“I never properly got to thank you for my Christmas present,” Camille told her. “That photograph of Calum was amazing. You're so talented.”

“Well you know it's pretty hard to take a bad photo of these guys,” Summer chuckled and Camille nodded. “And you two really have that perfect couple vibe. You two are so cute, and I bet Calum is a perfect boyfriend.”

Camille grinned and spotted Calum across the room with a group of guys being rowdy. One of the girls, a redhead kept lingering around him, asking him questions and touching his arm when she did. She was blatantly hitting on him and Calum was either oblivious or at least pretending to be.

Camille shrugged it off, it was just part of dating a guy like Calum. Summer, however wouldn’t let it go. Summer was already slurring a bit, thanks to the vodka punch, and seemed determined to point out to Camille that same girl seemed to be hovering over Calum each time they looked up. Camille watched as the ginger who'd been following Calum around went up to Crystal for a chat. She saw both girls look towards Calum and Ashton before Crystal point towards where Camille and Summer were sitting, Camille smiled at her and the girl scowled and shook her head retreating to her group of friends.

Summer had by now climbed onto Luke's lap and they were having a noisy make out session so Camille got up and made her way to the rest of the boys.

“What was that all about?” she asked Crystal who grinned.

“You already know, I saw you watching her.” Crystal replied winking at her. Ever since the Halloween party Crystal had really warmed up to her. Camille understood the hesitation. Calum had a girlfriend when they met and there were plenty of girls who tried to interfere with both Calum and Michael’s relationships, something Crystal wasn’t amused by.

“I wasn't worried. I don't think Calum even noticed her.” Camille almost believed what she said.

“Notice who?” Calum was behind her again, his arms encircling her waist, and his chin resting on top of her head.

“The girl who's been following you around since we got here.” Camille could tell he had a buzz by his goofy grin.

“Yeah told her I had a girlfriend, I'm not gonna leave you right when you come into some money.” Calum joked and they both laughed.

Earlier in the week, after Camille sobered up from her adventure with Luke she'd told Calum about the contract she'd signed. Even though he didn't fully understand the details he was immensely proud of her, and kept telling all his friends how amazing she was at her job. The other night he'd tried explaining it to his mom over video chat but he ended up having to call Camille away from cooking dinner to help him on the details. He hated that her career kept her in constant contact with NFL players, but he knew that was his own insecurity talking. She wasn't thrilled with how much female attention he got either and if she dealt with it then he could too. Camille wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in her way.

The party was fun considering Camille was fairly sober, some of the girls were starting to get sloppy and were boldly making moves on the guys. Ashton was fending off one blonde girl desperately trying to get him to go upstairs. At first he laughed it off but as she got more aggressive Ashton finally got fed up.

“Because I'm not fucking interested okay?” Camille heard the frustration in his voice and she went to go save him.

“That's not what you said last time. Is it because I didn't let you put it in my ass?” the blonde girl whined and Camille stepped up.

“Everything okay Ashton? Cal's looking for you.” Camille eyed the blonde who was glaring at them before she retreated in a huff.

“Everything good?” Cam raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, look about that...” he started.

“Ashton I know you have a past, it's not a big deal. You looked like you could use an interruption.” Camille snickered.

“Look I know Cher's told you we're not together exclusively or in a relationship but” Ashton was stammering barely able to get the words out.

“Ashton calm down, I know the deal and I love whatever y'all are doing because you're both happy with it. Good move on not going upstairs with that girl though.” Camille winked and laughed until she saw the strangest “Oh shit” expression cross Ashton's face before he looked at her.

Camille spun around and saw that same busted redhead from earlier surrounding Calum with her friends. She'd slung herself into Calum's lap, and he was frantically trying to get her off of him. Her friends were all but pushing her into Cal making it almost appear he was wrestling a spider.

“Excuse me honey, but you're in my seat.” Camille's icy tone made everyone stop and look at her. Calum stood up trying to balance the girl so she didn't topple over. Heels and alcohol won out and she went down flailing like she was trying to draw a foul.

Drunk and embarrassed she began to cry, but before anyone could help her up. A short but absolutely massive looking guy came barreling through the crowd, knocking people out of the way.

“Did you just push my girlfriend you little Asian fucker?” the meathead shouted in Calum's direction.

Ashton went to step between them to diffuse the situation but he didn't get the chance.

“First of all he didn't push her, her drunk ass fell. Second, if that's your girlfriend you need to get your girl. She's throwing herself at all these guys including my boyfriend, It's really not a good look.” Camille snapped glaring at this drunk asshole.

“What the fuck did you say you fat bitch. You think my girl wants your bitch was boyfriend?” He spat at her.

“Clearly she fucking does,” Camille saw Ashton and Calum trying to get through the guys friends who were blocking their way. Luke had come up beside her trying to pull her away but she shrugged him off. “Don't get pissed at him because your girl went looking for better dick.”

Camille tried to duck away but he grabbed her arm. Calum had broken through and was charging towards him. Luke tried to grab Camille away from him but the guy landed a sloppy punch that caught Luke in the shoulder just hard enough to knock him down. He yanked Camille back towards him.

CRACK

It was loud enough that everyone stopped to look.

THUMP

The guy hit the ground clutching his jaw. Camille stood over him beer bottle in hand.

“Don't get up. If you ever touch me again I'll kick your teeth in.” Camille snarled.

He pushed himself up earning him a kick to the ribs. “Stay DOWN!” Camille shouted before all hell broke loose.

Calum snatched Camille up throwing her over his shoulder. He carried her outside Ashton trailing behind. Calum set her down and grabbed her shoulders. “Are you crazy?” His eyes were wild and his breathing frantic. “You could've gotten hurt. What the fuck Camille?”

“We gotta go,” Ashton said “before this gets bad.”

“Okay you and Camille can drive.” Calum told him. “We'll drop Summer off and you take the others straight home.”

Ashton nodded and winked at Camille “Don't let him be to hard on you, that was awesome sweetheart.”

They gathered everyone up and loaded them into the cars. Summer didn't live very far and they'd gotten a couple blocks from her house after dropping her off when Camille heard Calum growl “PULL OVER!”

Alarmed she pulled over on a residential street in front of a house for sale.

“If you're gonna be sick you need to-” Camille couldn't finish before his mouth was on hers, his body pressing hers back into the seat. His hands all but ripped the seat belt away from her. Calum was pulling her towards him tugging her skirt up

“Baby I need you right now. That got me so turned on seeing you kick his ass. You're so fucking sexy darling, please ride me baby. I'm not gonna last long I'm sorry but I need you. Please darling need you, so much, so good,” Calum mumbled yanking her panties to the side, he buried himself in her lost completely in his desire for her.

The next morning Cher had just walked into the kitchen and was making coffee when she heard shouting out back. She looked out the back door towards the courtyard and saw a massive argument unfolding.

“Oh shit,” she yelped pulling out her phone to text Camille.

“Am I making breakfast for everyone or just us?” Ashton asked coming into the kitchen behind her. “ What's going on out there? Oh shit,” Ashton's eyes bugged out when he saw what was happening.

Camille came thundering down the stairs still pulling her clothes on. She scurried over to the back door “what's going on Cher? Oh shit well we can guess what that's about.” Camille said and Cher laughed.

“What are you talking about?” Calum came into the kitchen. The coffee had finished so he poured a cup for both he and Camille before joining them by the door. “Okay so what's this about? I thought Nick and Cody were fine.”

“I wasn't supposed to say anything but Cody has been cheating on Nick,” Camille told him as Nick was throwing Cody's belongings out on the back porch. They were both yelling at each other. Cody had his arms crossed clearly defensive and Nick was red faced and furious. When he started pointing across the courtyard Camille and Cher exchanged a glance “uh oh,” Cher whispered.

“What? What's happening? Is it someone here?” Ashton was catching on.

“Yeah...” Camille told him.

“Camille,” something in Calum's voice made her look up “who is it?”

Camille grinned “It's Harry, I caught them together.”

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” Calum looked pissed.

“Baby, don't do this. This has nothing to do with us, I didn't tell you because they didn't want anyone to know. I only told Cher because we have to deal with Cody when it all blows up.” Camille placed her hands on his chest “Please don't make a big deal out of it.” Camille didn't have the energy for another stupid argument.

“Of course not darling,” Calum kissed her forehead. “Especially when I know my girl can kick my ass.”

Ashton made cheese omelets for Cal, Cher and himself. Camille didn't eat eggs so she made herself a bagel and some of the bacon Ashton pulled out of the oven. Camille made everyone a fruit cup with fresh pineapple and pear slices. They sat on the back porch watching the days drama unfold. After breakfast Ashton went with Cal to go tend to Duke trying to avoid the arguing couple they went out the front door and around the long way. They were both still laughing about Camille taking that asshole down. When Ashton thought he saw something moving under a bush across the parking lot. He thought he imagined it but then he barely saw it again, he started to jog across the lot. Calum stopped and watched him stop and bend down to scoop up a ball of fluff.

Ashton waved him over and Calum ran up to find he'd found a tiny brown kitten.

“What should we do?” Ashton asked him.

Calum pulled his t shirt off over his head to wrap the little kitty up and keep him warm. “Do you see any others?” Calum asked holding the kitten gently against his chest.

Ashton crawled around looking through the bushes but saw no signs of other cats. He shook his head.

“We gotta get this little guy to the vet. Let's go grab Duke and we'll head out. Text the guys and tell them where we're going, that practice is gonna be late.” Calum was already headed to get his dog and his keys. 

@biba3434 @toofadedtofight @babygirlcashton @slimthicccal @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995  @vfdsstuff @unabashedlymyself