#i dropped down right to the next research station so i missed a whole spot of walking

[zodiyack]

Detective Smarts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of abuse

Words: 1,317

Summary: The crew is having a hard time and Spencer offers to call in some back up. Who’d’ve known she was what the B.A.U. needed- or that she was dating the brainy doctor?

Note: I’m sorry if this sucks big time, I couldn’t think of a good case. Let’s just say that I’m never using anything original for a case the team solves ever again lmao

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

They walked around, inspecting the scene. “It could’ve been anything. Homicide, self-defense, ectara ectara. We don’t have nearly enough to go by. No- actually, we have practically nothing to go by!”

“Either way," Garcia snorted into the headset, “it was a crime.”

“Should I call in Miss L/n?” Spencer quirked a brow, raising his phone to gesture at what he’d asked. Morgan looked up from his ‘station’ with a teasing grin, poking fun at the thought, well- fact, of Spencer having a girl’s number.

“L/n? As in Y/n L/n?”

“Yep.”

“Well shit.” Derek chuckled to himself and continued working.

Emily looked between the two with confusion scattered across her face. “Y/n? Who’s tha-” She frowned as the realization hit her. “That Y/n?”

“Well that depends on who you’re referring to when you say ‘that Y/n’.”

Her glare was strong; Spencer could’ve sworn he felt a drop of sweat drip from his forehead from the intensity of her harsh gaze. Nevertheless, he allowed a teasing smirk of his own to grace his lips. “You know exactly who I’m referring to, Reid.”

“That I do, but I-...ya know...just saying.” His sentence died down as he averted his eyes from Prentiss’. She simply nodded and went back to work, the complaints returning just as she did. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

It wasn’t Emily’s fault that she didn’t like Y/n...well...okay, so it kind of was. She only disliked the mention of the woman because Spencer was boasting about her like she was some kind of god; he’d been overly excited about how she cracked one of their past cases much faster than they did- to which Emily rolled her eyes and added, “Yeah, she probably looked it up.” and other stories involving Spencer’s fascination with the woman.

“Prentiss, are you one-hundred percent s-”

“Fine.” She rubbed her temples for a moment before returning to searching for more to work with. “Call her. I wanna see what makes this Y/n so great.”

“Is someone jealous or just having a bad day?”

Taking note of her attitude, Derek answered for Emily. “Not the time, mamma, not the time.”

Spencer had excused himself from the room to make his call, returning back to the, ever so unfortunately, tension filled room. His attitude had changed as well, leaving the room kind of bored to reentering with a large amount of excitement.

“So?”

“She’s on her way.”

The wait for when the mystery woman would arrive was...interesting. Derek couldn’t help but notice, and allow himself to also get distracted with his observation, how unusually distracted the determined doctor was, and how he smiled and blushed after a soft snicker would escape his mouth every now and then.

Emily seemed to dread it, but he couldn’t tell. Not with how agitated she’d acted the whole day; at this point, he couldn’t tell whether she was feeling anything aside from anger.

They worked in silence, small talk was there but not permanently, until a knock came from the door of the apartment they were working in. Spencer was the first to hop up, tripping over his own feet as he sped to the door and answered it.

It swung open to reveal a very beautiful woman, who Prentiss and Morgan guessed to be Y/n.

However, it wasn’t her looks that shocked them.

It was what they saw next that did the trick.

The woman, possibly Y/n, lifted her hand to Dr. Reid’s cheek and pulled him in for a loving kiss. He raised his hand to meet hers and made a small noise of appreciation as he smiled into their kiss, not that the other two could see it.

After they pulled away from each other, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly to her, Spencer mirroring her actions and holding her flush against his chest as it heaved with a hearty chuckle. It took them both a moment to remember their very public location.

“Um, hi. I’m-”

“Y/n?” Derek’s brows were still escaping to the top of his forehead, the shock and image from what had just happened never seeming to process in his mind. The woman in front of him nodded, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and putting them on.

“I hear you guys need help?”

“Nope. Just wanted to see if you were as good a help as Reid says you are. So uh...have at it.” Emily stood up and pulled her own gloves off before walking over and leaning against the wall by the door.

“Are you sure it’s oka-”

“By all means, fire-cracker, take a look.” Derek followed Emily’s actions of rising from the ground but stayed planted where he was.

“’Fire-cracker?’”

Garcia laughed loudly, the noise from Derek’s phone startling Y/n slightly, “Just a nickname from, of course, moi.” Her giggle faded quickly as she interrupted it with more to comment, “From what our lovely Dr. Reid says about you, I’m come up with fire-cracker. Let’s just hope we’re both right.”

Y/n nodded slowly and began inspecting, weaving in and out of rooms. The three stayed out of her way, next to or against the wall, as they watched her. Although not much time had gone past, Prentiss smiled a little, feeling as if she would be right about this time, as if she knew Y/n couldn’t do what Spencer claimed she could do.

If only she hadn’t “jinxed” her luck with the thoughts of success; Y/n had cracked it. She had only been in the room for around ten to twenty minutes.

“Alright so, you see these?” She gestured to a couple of splatters of blood on the floor next to the kitchen counter. “And this,” she then walked to the bathroom, which was the first room in the hallway that led out of the kitchen, “and that puddle right there.” Finally, she pointed to the main spot where the blood had been.

She walked to the room next to the bathroom, which was a bedroom. “This room was not the owners, as their room is the next one over-”

“And how do you know?” Prentiss inquired.

“Oh, because all their belongings and photos of them with friends are in the other one, but this one is pretty much empty if you don’t count the bed and bed sheets. The person was likely the unsub’s partner or parent.”

“And how do you know that too?”

“Well, they killed the person due to abuse related terms, which, before you ask me again, I know that because of the belt in the other person’s drawer covered in a tiny splatters of blood. And,” she lifted the comforter, ”there’s smear marks along the bed-sheet. Can you guess what it is?”

“Blood?”

“Bingo, point to Morgan. Yes, it’s blood. So the person was stabbed somewhere around the bathroom, we’ve figured that much, but what about the blood in the kitchen? Great, yes, glad you asked- remember the blood on the belt I mentioned not less than a minute ago? Well the person was hit with the belt so hard they bled, went to sleep and got it on their sheets, and went through that so many times that after being hit again, they just...” she popped her lips, “snapped.”

“Mhm. So wha-”

“Actually, fire-cracker’s right on this one.” Garcia sounded just as shocked as Morgan and Prentiss looked. “Did some research on the owner of the apartment and multiple accusations of abuse have been made against them.”

Y/n held the silence after Garcia’s comment for a bit longer before turning to Spencer with a nervous smile. “So uh- how’d I do?”

“Honestly-” he smiled with pride and adoration, “I think it would’ve taken us quite a while had you not been here.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Derek nodded with a chuckle.

And though she hesitated, Prentiss gave in, “You’ve got some good skill, kid. Thanks for the help.”

[supernatural-jackles]

Owe You One - Part 3

Title: Owe You One - Saving You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 5,141

Warnings: Angst, Self Hate, Nudity, Depression, Anxiety, Mentions of Sex, Minor Fluff, Self Loathing.

Summary:  Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Owe You One - Masterlist

Square Filled : Best Friend for @spndeanbingo

A/N: Here we go! I hope y’all enjoy this part! Please please please, leave a comment, reblog or ask! Your response is very important to me! Happy Reading!

*Tags are still open! Please send an ask*

Three Months Later

 “Hey Y/N, it’s me, Dean. Again. Uh, look, we need to talk. It’s been three months since I last heard from you. I haven’t seen you since the night out. I’m getting worried now. I’m stopping by tonight around seven. Have a good day.”

 You listened to his words, letting them swirl around in your head as they sunk in. It had been three months since you last saw him. The night of his mom’s party. He called and left messages. Knocked on your door a few times and sent a bunch of texts. You didn’t return any of them. It was for the best.

 You couldn’t get his mother’s words out of your head since that night. You were never going to be good enough for the Winchester family. You were never going to measure up because you were the same filth that your mom was. You were bound to repeat history with their oldest son and she was going to make damn sure nothing happened. Hell, you had no idea what had happened. You were clueless, helpless and most of all, you were completely and utterly alone.

 You glanced around your messy bedroom, knowing fine well it was time to get up to get ready for work. That didn’t help you move. Your room hadn’t been cleaned in close to two months. You had probably vacuumed about three times. You had clothes everywhere. Your sheets were half on the bed. You had blankets on the floor, and the odd pillow. You just stopped cleaning up and taking care of yourself. There was no motivation in you to do anything. You slept, are the odd meal, went to work and repeat. There was nothing special about your life now that you didn’t have anyone in it.

 You rolled off of your bed, your feet landing in what felt to be a sweater that you had worn yesterday or the day before. You couldn’t quite remember. You took a deep breath, searching your drawer for something you could wear that was semi presentable, and not already worn and on the floor. You didn’t have a whole lot of clean clothes left.

 As soon as you pulled on your pants and shirt, you slipped out of your room and into the main part of the apartment. Your dishes were piled up in the sink, and all over the counter. You hadn’t bothered to clean anything in your apartment for awhile now. You just didn’t have the energy to put into cleaning up.

 You shoved your shoes on your feet, wanting to leave the apartment as quickly as possible to get out before you had the chance to run onto Dean. That was the very last thing you wanted. Especially after the message on your phone. If you were lucky and timed everything out, you’d be home early and you could ignore him like you had done for the last three months. Dean and the rest of the Winchester’s were better off without you.

 You hopped on the number five bus that took you straight to the stop right outside your work’s building. You barely gave his beloved impala a second glance as the bus took off down the road. It was filled with the usual crowd. Some in their business suits, others in scrubs. It was always the same people that never said a single word to each other. Not even a hello.

 The ride was exactly twenty six minutes. The average amount it took you to get there. This morning, the lady with the stroller didn’t get on, which saved you three and a half minutes. The old man with the big hat got off at a different stop, and a few new faces got on at a stop that wasn’t typically used. It was all so routine. Nothing ever changed.

 Maybe that was part of your problem. Your life was so routine now that you were alone. You didn’t run the odd chance that Dean was coming over to hang out because you had shut him out. You didn’t go out. You lived the same daily routine every single day. No change. Maybe that was why you were in the slump you were in. Partially anyways.

 You pulled the string, letting the driver know you needed off. You stood up, heading for the side door to get ready to leave. No one looked at you, or even paid any attention to you. They were all staring at their phones, not taking in their surroundings. It made you wonder how they ever got off at their stops.

 You stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk, heading straight towards your building’s entrance. You had your key card ready to scan when you walked in. You took a deep breath as you pulled the door open, your footsteps light as you made your way to the front desk. You slipped your card in the slot, hearing the click to unlock the door.

 The exact same routine every morning. Your work station as you liked to call it was on the third floor. You had your own little cubicle that you made yours. The elevator dinged as it stopped on your floor. You heard the conversations the second you stepped out and headed into the big room. Your area was to the left of the room, near the conference office.

 You arrived at your cubicle, removing your bag from your shoulder before placing it on your desk. You took a seat in your comfortable chair. Your eyes wandered in the same place they always did. The picture of you and Dean that you had there. It was the only picture you had the two of you. You didn’t have the heart to remove it. You loved the picture. He was smiling wide while you were laughing. His younger brother Sam had taken it. What you would do to go back to that day.

 “Morning Y/N,” Charlie beamed, handing you your morning tea with a smile. “Your morning pick me up.”

 “Thanks Charlie,” you smiled softly at her.

 “Are you caught up on The Walking Dead yet?” she asked, leaning against your desk.

 “No not yet,” you shook your head. “I’ve been a bit busy. I think I’m six episodes behind now.”

 “You are and it’s killing me,” she sighed. “Okay, what about we get together this weekend and catch up. Or have a Harry Potter marathon.”

 “I’ll see what I’m doing,” you nodded. “I’ll text you and let you know.”

 “Will you?” she cocked her eyebrow knowingly.

 “Promise,” you said, looking directly at her.

 She gave you a weak smile before heading to the next cubicle with their drink. You let out a breath, turning your computer on. You were just going to focus on getting your work done so you could go home and feel comfortable once more.

 Your job wasn’t hard. You worked for a magazine company called Asemodeus and you wrote articles. It wasn’t your dream job by any means. When you moved here, this was the only place you heard back from that the pay was decent. It was better than nothing. You just weren’t challenged as much as you would have liked. It was all a routine to you.

 Your column was strictly fashion. Nothing to write home about. You worked with a bunch of other woman who helped get the main parts of the magazine together. Your boss, Abaddon was the daughter of the company’s CEO. She ran this floor and was the one in charge of getting everything done. Charlie worked alongside her. She was in charge of everything Abaddon couldn’t get done. Everyone else was just like you in some sense.

 The day was dragging on. You had nothing due. Nothing to research and nothing to write. You were ahead and there wasn’t anything you could help with in anyway. Your eyes kept slipping over to that picture and how he was coming over tonight. He was worried about you. All you could think about was his mom’s words. You weren’t good enough for any of them. What made you think that Dean wasn’t going to realize it at some point? As soon as another woman came into his life, you would be shoved out of his life anyways. You were saving yourself the heartache.

 Six o’clock finally came. You shut down your computer and turned your side light off before standing up. You had your sweater close to you and your bag over your shoulder. If you were lucky, you would catch the first bus back to the apartment, you thought to yourself. You pulled your hair out from beneath the strap.

 You slipped your card in the slot once more, signing out for the day before pushing the door open. The cool March air filled your lungs instantly. The wind had picked up a little. You were looking forward to spring finally making its appearance.

 The bus stopped in front of the stop for you to get on. This ride was shorter than the last one you reminded yourself as you took your seat at the back of the bus. It was a different crowd on this route compared to the morning round. There was a man always on his phone with his wife. Today they were arguing about something which sounded a lot like what to get for dinner. Most of the time, he was telling her how his day went and how much he missed her. He couldn’t have been much older than you by the looks of him. He wore a suit and carried a briefcase. It wasn’t new by any means. A hand me down at best. His suit was one of three he owned. He was definitely just starting out.

 Your stop came quickly and before you knew it, you were back out into the cool evening. You glanced both ways, checking for cars coming before stepping out onto the street to cross over. You couldn’t wait to be in your bed. It was all you could think about.

 It was just after six thirty when you stepped foot on your floor off the stairs. You searched your bag for your keys. You pulled them out of their spot, finally look up, only to have your heart sink in your chest. Dean was sitting on the floor outside your apartment with his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t even seven yet. So much for getting home early enough that you could avoid him. There was nothing you could say to him. There was no point in conversation.

 “Y/N,” he half smiled, getting up off the floor.

 “Look, now’s not really a good time,” you said, slipping the keys in the lock as quickly as you could. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.”

 “Not even ten minutes?” he asked, his tone almost cold. Not that you could really blame him.

 “As you can see, I’m fine. I’m still alive and all is good. I’m just busy. You can stop worrying,” you stated, pushing the door open.

 “Y/N,” he breathed out. “Please.”

 “It’s not a good idea, okay?” you muttered, stepping inside your apartment. You turned back, finally looking directly at him for the first time. He had a sad, broken and defeated look on his face. It damn near broke you. You didn’t want to hurt him. That wasn’t your intention in the slightest. You were saving both of you from heartache later on.

 “You have someone over last night?” he asked, pointing towards your kitchen, furrowing his eyebrows. Shit. Of course he could see your kitchen from where he was standing.

 “No,” you shook your head. “I gotta go.”

 “Y/N, please,” he pleaded. “I talked to my mom about what happened.” You stiffened at the thought of him talking to her about you. The mere thought of you on her mind, her face turning angry and filling with disgust.

 “That’s great. I don’t want to hear it, okay? Please, leave me be,” you said. Your voice laced with defeat. You moved to shut the door closed, only to have Dean’s hand stop it before he entered your apartment. He wasn’t going to give up. There was no getting him to leave now without a fight.

 “You’re not okay,” he said sadly. “Are you?”

 “I’m okay,” you lied. “I’ve just been busy.”

 “Don’t lie to me,” he stated. “Your kitchen is a mess which is completely unlike you.” He walked over to the fridge, opening it up. “You have nothing in your fridge, Y/N. Not even a carton of milk. You haven’t done the dishes in what looks like a week or two. God knows, the last time you had a proper meal.”

 “I’ve been busy,” you whispered, trying to make yourself small. He wasn’t going to buy a word you were saying. You could see it on his face. Maybe if you kept lying, you’d piss him off to the point where he’d leave. Maybe if you pretended not to need him.

 “Y/N, don’t lie to me,” he frowned, making you feel guilty.

 “Can you please, just go,” you swallowed hard, not daring to look at him.

 “Let me clean up, okay? Go shower and do whatever you do after work,” he told you. You didn’t have to be told twice. You turned on your heel, heading into your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, taking in the darkness that was the room. The curtains hadn’t been opened in months. Dean was going to leave after he did the one thing you couldn’t do. You could handle him doing that. You were tired of fighting.

 You shed out of your work clothes, dropping them near the overflowing laundry basket. You never bothered to make sure they were fully in there. It didn’t matter anyways. Your room was as much of a mess as your kitchen was, if not worse. You reached for your pyjamas that you had on this morning, pulling them on your body before slipping beneath the covers of your bed.

 You lay your head on your pillow, bringing your legs up to your chest as you settled in. You felt everything, but at the same time, you felt nothing. It was one of the worst feelings in the world. Knowing something was wrong, but not having the slightest clue how to fix it, or the energy to even try. Nothing was going to make you feel any better.

 You had no idea how much time had past when your bedroom door opened, letting in a little bit of light from the main part of the apartment. You had no energy to move, let alone talk. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to have to fight Dean on this.

 “Y/N,” you heard as the bed dipped down next to you. You felt his hand coming down to the other side of your body. “How bad is it?”

 “What?” you mouthed.

 “The way you’re feeling. How bad?” he questioned. His tone was light. There wasn’t a single hint of anger or judgment.

 “‘M fine,” you replied, nuzzling your head into your pillow a bit more.

 “Y/N, please don’t lie to me. This is my fault; I know it is. Please just, talk to me,” he almost begged.

 “I would like you to leave,” you asked politely. You couldn’t handle the hurt in his voice. He was worried and you knew it was a long shot of him leaving after he seen you like this.

 “Not without a fight, sweetheart,” he half smiled. “C’mon.”

 He stood up, throwing the comforter back without your consent. You felt the draft instantly, wanting the warmth back. Before you could reach for it, Dean reached down, pulling you into his arms, lifting you out of bed. You could barely protest as he carried you into the bathroom. He placed you down on top of the counter before flicking on the light.

 “Alright, arms up,” he pointed to your shirt.

 “Dean,” you shook your head.

 “I’m going to say this as nicely as possible. You smell terrible. Now arms up. We’re showering,” he explained.

 “I don’t want to,” you protested, casting your head down.

 “Okay,” he nodded. “Then you can go for a bath instead. You can soak in there while I clean up your room.”

 “No,” you refused.

 “Y/N, please,” he declared, raising his voice just a little. He turned away from you, reaching your tub. He turned the nozzle, beginning to fill up the tub. He grabbed the bubble bath from the shelf, adding a good amount into the water before testing the temperature. He never uttered another word to you. You knew he was irritated with you, and you did nothing to make that any better. You were pathetic. Why was he sticking around?

 When he was satisfied with the bath, he made his way back to you. This time, you didn’t protest. You weren’t sure you had any fight left in you. He pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts to him once more. He didn’t look at you with the same lust filled eyes this time. Then again, this wasn’t the time or place. Next were your pants and your panties, which were off quickly. What you weren’t expecting was for him to carry you over to the tub. He was careful when he placed you in the water. It wasn’t too hot. It was the right temperature to provide you with some relief. It felt nice to be in the water.

 “I’m going to go clean up,” he stated lowly. For a split second, you didn’t want him to leave you. After telling him to leave so many times. After avoiding him for so long. You didn’t want him to go. If he was in here, you weren’t alone with yourself and your thoughts. You weren’t alone with your fears, and your depression. You would have him here with you and it was a lot less scary if he was here.

 “Stay,” you whispered. Your voice was weak and barely even there.

 “I’ll just be out there-”

 “Please,” you mouthed.

 “Alright,” he nodded. “You want me to wash your hair?” You nodded your head this time, not daring to try to speak again. He opened up the cupboard door, grabbing the pitcher from the shelf. He moved to the shower, grabbing your shampoo and conditioner from the perch before settling down next to the tub.

 You moved to the middle of the tub, giving him some room to work. You brought your knees to your chest, letting him do what he needed to do. He was gentle, which you should have expected but didn’t. He worked in silence, solely focused on washing your hair the best he could. You didn’t want to do anything to make him mad. You just let him do his thing.

 You couldn’t deny that it felt good to have him run his fingers through your hair. It was that comfort thing again. Like the way he kissed your head at his mom’s party. It was little things that put you at a little more ease. You never really realized just how much you missed him until you thought about these things.

 “I’m sorry,” you mouthed.

 “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he assured you, running his fingers through your wet hair once more. “You want to get out now so we can dry you off?”

 “Okay,” you breathed out. You moved your hands to the side of the tub, finding the energy to prop yourself up to a standing position. He reached for your arm, helping you climb out of the tub and onto the soft mat to dry your feet. He wrapped you in one of your warm towels, trying to dry you off the best he could. He held out his finger to you, taking off into your bedroom a second later. You moved the towel around your body, drying yourself off in all the places you knew Dean would miss.

 “Clean pyjamas,” he said as he stepped foot in the bathroom once more. Dean took the towel from you, and handed you the clean clothes in exchange. You managed to pull them on without too much of an effort. Dean stepped over to the counter, grabbing your hair brush off the little shelf. What you didn’t expect was for him to begin brushing your hair. You felt useless. You couldn’t even take care of yourself and it took to Dean barging into your apartment to help you for you to actually do something. He had to be thinking about how pathetic you were. How much of a broken fucking mess you were.

 “De-”

 “We’re going out,” he told you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You furrowed your brows. Where in the hell could he be taking you that you could be wearing your pyjamas. He lead you into your bedroom, heading over to your closest to grab you a sweater before exiting the room.

 You followed him into the now clean kitchen. He was setting out your comfortable slip on shoes for you, and he had your bag ready for you. You weren’t really up for going out, but there was no way he was taking no for an answer. Not this time. Even if you tried, you were still going. You were breaking routine, you told yourself. That was good.

 He threw his arm around you once more, pulling you into him as he lead you down the stairs and to the impala. The wind had picked up a little more, chilling you instantly due to your wet hair. Dean still opened the door for you first like the true gentleman that he was. You couldn’t wait for him to get in and turn the heating on.

 You were on the road within seconds, heading left instead of right, which was what you were expecting. The car heated up pretty fast, warming you up slowly. Dean hummed along to the Queen song that played on the radio. The car ride was pretty silent all in all. You didn’t know what to say to him. You were sure he didn’t know what to say to you at this point. You were a mess. You weren’t his responsibility.

 He made another left turn up a road you weren’t sure about. It was a dirt road that went uphill. You weren’t sure how long you were in the car for or where you were for that matter. Dean knew what he was doing and that was more than enough to put you at ease. The car eventually came to a halt and Dean cut the engine. You were at the top of the hill, overlooking the main part of the city.

 It was just starting to get dark out and the lights were becoming brighter. You couldn’t stop staring out the window, taking it all in. It was breathtaking. You took a deep breath, letting the calm feeling take over you. It was the first time in a long time that you felt a sense of ease. You didn’t want that feeling to leave you.

 “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Dean said lowly, grasping your attention.

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. You could sense that he wanted to say something more but chose not to. Not yet. You knew after everything he did for you, you owed him an explanation. You owned him something. There was no nice way to put any of it. You had no idea why he even cared. After everything with his mom. You knew she didn’t want you around him or any of them. You shouldn’t have been with him now.

 “Y/N,” he sighed, almost as if he was defeated.

 “I’m not okay,” you confessed. “But Dean, we can’t be friends.”

 “Why not?” he questioned.

 “Because your family hates me,” you reminded him. “Because for some reason that I don’t know about, they hate me. My existence was enough for your mom to tell me get away from her family. I’m not good enough for you, Dean. Or anyone for that matter.”

 “Is- is that why you didn’t answer any of my calls, or texts? Because you think you’re not good enough for me?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “Partially.”

 “I’ve been so fucking worried about you,” he revealed, turning to face you. “And clearly I’ve had a good reason to. Talk to me, Y/N.”

 “There is nothing to say,” you shook your head.

 “Yes there is,” he pointed out. “Since when do you not have something to say?”

 “Since my best friend’s mom hates me,” you raised your voice. “Since the one person I actually got along with was told to break up with me, because my bitch of a mom fucked your mom over in some way that I don’t even know about!” You let out a huff, crossing your arms over your body, trying to make yourself small.

 “I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve done something sooner. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

 “We can’t be friends, De-”

 “I don’t give a fuck what my parents think, Y/N,” he stated clearly. “I care about you. The one who stuck by my side even when she wanted to run. I’m never going to leave you behind because my parents feel a certain way. They can go to hell for all I care.”

 “I’m not going to be the one to break you from your parents, Dean. I’m not worth it,” you argued.

 “I’ll be the judge of that one,” he told you. “I like you and that’s all that matters. I’m not going another day without knowing you’re okay.”

 “You said you talked to your mom about what happened?” you brought up, finally turning to look over at him. He gave you a soft smile, motioning for you to move over to him. You took a deep breath, not fighting him this time. He threw his arm around you, tugging you into him, giving you a squeeze.

 “From what she told me, she said your mom and her were best friends growing up. From Kindergarten to junior year. She didn’t speak kindly of her, I’m going to tell you that now-”

 “I figured,” you shrugged.

 “Your mom cared more about her boyfriends that she did about her friendship with my mom. My parents were together in high school. Have been since sophomore year. Apparently they took a break during senior year and during that time, your mom hit on my dad and said a bunch of things about her to him. Their friendship was over after that and your mom took off. I know there has to be more to it, but that’s what she told me.”

 “I’m trying my hardest not to be like my mom,” you breathed out. “She made it pretty clear before she died that I was going to end up the same way as she did. A slut who was never going to settle down with anyone.”

 “Sweetheart, you’re not your mom,” Dean declared. “You’re not a slut. Trust me, someone is going to fall head over heels for you someday. You’re definitely a little naughty though, I’m not gonna lie.”

 “Shut up,” you let out a chuckle.

 “You are,” he laughed, “I’d fuck you anytime. You’re hot as hell.”

 “I’m a mess. You don’t want me,” you half joked, swallowing hard.

 “I’d take you no matter what,” he assured you. “Best sex I’ve ever had.”

 “You already know you’re the best I’ve ever had,” you shrugged. “Backseat is free.”

 “As much as I’d love that, I’m not sleeping with you. Not tonight,” he breathed out. “You’ve clearly got a lot going on and I’m not about to make that any worse for you. Just, don’t shut me out again, okay?” he said, nudging you.

 “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Things just got dark, you know? My head got the better of me after that night and I just kinda stopped. Everything whirled around in my head and I convinced myself you were better off without me. After that, I felt trapped in a loop. Everyday was the same shitty routine. I didn’t want to talk to you because of what happened, and I worried that because your mom told you to break up with me, you were going to leave me in the end anyways. You deserved a better friend that your parents didn’t hate. On top of that, I never told you that I have bad anxiety and a bit of depression all wrapped up in this tight little box. I’m a mess nine times out of ten. And everything with my mom and growing up - I figured I’m only good for a night between the sheets and nothing more.”

 “You are worth a lot more than that, sweetheart. I can promise you that,” he stated, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You might have a few dents, but you aren’t broken and you aren’t a mess. You’ll always have me, no matter what. I’m right next door, neighbor.”

 “Thank you,” you nodded, swallowing hard. You leaned your head over, resting it on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible person the last three months.”

 “You do owe me a birthday present,” he joked. “I get it. I don’t mind helping you clean up your apartment when things get to be too much. I don’t want you to feel like you have to shut me out. I’m always here for you. I don’t care about what my parents think. You’re always going to be my friend. I’m not a kid and I can make decisions for myself.”

 “I might need you to remind me of that from time to time,” you shared. “I’m not going to be okay all the time. I’m never okay all the time.”

 “I’m a phone call and probably about twenty two steps away. Anytime,” he assured you.

 “Can - can you stay over tonight,” you inquired. “I don’t really feel like being alone. Not after three months of it.”

 “Only if I can sleep in your bed. I’m not sleeping on the couch,” he chuckled.

 “Yeah you can sleep in my bed,” you nodded.

 “Good. Your bed is comfortable,” he smiled. “We’ll get your room back in order this weekend.”

 “Thank you for being a good friend, even if I’m a shit friend.”

 “You’re not a shit friend, Y/N. You thought you were doing what was best for you at the time. You’re overprotective of yourself and I get it,” he smiled. “But remember I’m here for you.”

 “I know,” you breathed out. “Thanks for caring.”

 “Always!”

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

Part 4 will be out on Sunday 👀 

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Any theories? Please share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Nothing is stupid! I WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! Your response is the ONLY thing keeping me sharing this story! 

Dean Babes

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[female-overlord-3]

Blurt it into existence

Happy Bi-visibility Day 🎉 here is a little thing I couldn't get out of my head and somehow finished just in time! If The Old Guard is my comfort movie well Julie and the Phantoms is my comfort show 😆 Enjoy Reggie figuring some things out! This is Julie/Luke/Reggie cause they all have 2 hands 💖

It's sort of the little things that Reggie usually misses but they keep happening more and more that even he notices.

It's when they harmonize and it feels like their all one amazing voice. It's that heated tension when they share a microphone. How proud they are after performing or practicing or practicing something they've just made.

The small things build to big things which becomes a new thing and something he's still trying to figure out which means he has 2 things to figure out.

Eventually he solves the new thing pretty quickly but doing something about it takes longer… or as long as his self-control lasts which isn't exactly stellar.

Finally Reggie can't hold it in anymore and blurts it out to Luke when it's just them practicing riffs.

"I think I like Julie?!"

Luke shrugs and keeps playing.

"I like Julie too."

Reggie just shakes his head frantically and his bass disappears so he can grab Luke with both hands by the shoulder and pulls him close to stare him right in the eye as he says this.

"No like actual feelings man."

It finally dawns on Luke what Reggie is trying to say but still there's no reaction as he keeps playing, shifting to a slower sound before making his guitar disappear.

"Oh well I like Julie too. With actual feelings." He frowns in thought and crosses his arms in defence. "Which both you and Alex teased me about remember?"

Reggie chuckles at that. "Huh ya you both are really obvious but like what do I do? I mean I know she loves us and you a bit more but what should I do? Ignore it? Try something? Find someone else?"

Luke eyes him in thought before grinning, a mischievous look Reggie knows means fun trouble.

"Ok well why don't we just tell her and see what she thinks?"

Reggie goes silent for a moment before a bright smile breaks across his face, one Luke reciprocates.

"Ya maybe if I tell her she'll help me figure this out. God feelings are weird. How do you guys do it? I'm just used to fun easy crushes that are well fun and easy but actual feelings kinda suck."

Luke's smile turns smug and he presses a messy kiss to Reggies cheek. "Cause I'm a genius and always know what to do Reggie. Now come on."

Reggie stares in shock before frowning at him.

"Hey, you gotta stop doing that Luke. I'm still trying to figure out the weird feelings I've got for you man."

Luke just pats him consolingly on the arm still attached to him.

"I know Reggie I know, now come on. Julie should be done studying by now right?" Luke questions and slings an arm around Reggie.

"Ya she should be it's like almost dinner time."

They drop in front of her door and knock because if theres one thing Julie Molina knows it's how to get people to do what she wants. Now occasionally the boys remember their manners.

Then Luke has to go and poke his head through the door.

"Julie Reggie has a question for you."

The odd tone Luke uses makes a feeling of nerves settle back again and Reggie's about to pull Luke back so they can be anywhere else but it's Luke who yanks him through the door instead.

Reggie barely resists the urge to poof away because Julie has those cute butterfly clips in her hair and she's just so pretty. She's also giving Luke an annoyed look which makes him feel better.

"See this is why I like you, you defend me when Lukes being annoying and look cute doing it."

Luke gives Julie a look as he motions his hands to Reggie and sighs.

"What-oh right. Julie I'm possibly in love with you in a more than friends way… what should I do?"

She looks from him then Luke and there's also that same mischievous look in her eyes too. Reggie feels like he's missing something he should already know.

"You're asking me… What you should do?" She questions and Reggie just nods.

"Ya cause we know you and Luke are an almost something and I'm not trying to mess with that but I'm not usually a full on feels kind of guy. So like is there a way for me to… not be? Also help me figure out these feelings I have for Luke too cause Alex just stares at me like I'm missing something but never tells me what." He squirts at Luke in annoyance. "You too. Both of you stop waiting for whatever I'm missing and just tell me! It'll save everyone time."

Julie seeing the signs that Reggie is heading for an actual freak out, takes his hand and brings him to sit next to her on her bed.

"Hey Reggie I promise you after today you'll have all of this mostly figure out alright? Now I'm gonna need you to answer some questions I'm going to ask." She squeezes his hand which instantly calms him. "Just blurt it out without thinking."

"My specialty then! Alright I'm ready. Go!"

Both Luke and Julie laugh at that which makes him feel way too warm and giddy.

"Okay favorite thing about Luke?"

"Eyes."

"Favorite thing about me?"

"Smile."

"What do you feel when you think about me?"

"Happy."

"What do you feel when you think about Luke?"

"Also happy."

"My favorite song?"

"Trick question you said you'd never be able to have one cause all the songs you love are special in their own way."

"Luke's favorite guitar?"

"Also trick question because just like you, each on is special and has its own unique use."

"Do you think how you feel about me is the same you feel about Luke?"

"Probably?" 

Reggie finally pauses in thought before gasping. 

"Omg I'm also in love with Luke." 

He snaps his head to look at Luke who just winks at him. "Luke I'm possibly in love with you too!"

He goes silent again and before throwing a pillow at Luke who let's it pass through him. "Wait you knew and you didn't tell me!"

Luke doesn't even look ashamed at this and proceeds to throw himself onto both Reggie and Julie's lap.

"Dude I tried to see if you were interested even before we died. You just never reciprocated so I let it be."

"What! You know how bad I am at that stuff! WE COULD'VE BEEN TOGETHER SOONER IF YOU JUST TOLD ME. WE COULD OF DOUBLE TEAMED TO SWEEP JULIE OFF HER FEET LIKE SHE DESERVES." He starts slapping Luke in the leg then pauses for the third time during this whole thing.

"Wait you were into me back then?"

A hand flies to his chest. "Aww man that's so embarrassing you had a crush on me even then."

Julie's hand pokes him in the chest.

"So did you Reggie."

"Oh huh right." He takes hold of Julie's hand and starts fiddling with it.

"So does this mean you love me too?"

The fond look she gives him makes Reggie blush.

"What do you think Reginald?"

"That I'm in some weird fever dream." 

"Well if hearing it will make things seem more real then yes Reggie, of course I love you too."

Reggie face breaks out into a blinding smile because he's so happy.

"Dude did you hear that? Julie loves me!"

Julie and Luke laugh again because they do love their ridiculous boy.

"Well I also love you too." Luke adds and pats his cheek, leaving it there for a second longer than usual before dropping it.

"Why do I feel like both crying and proofing to the roof to yell?"

Reggie feels like he's too full of emotions he might actually explode.

Julie tugs his hand and pulls him closer.

"Come on group hug."

They all laugh in joy as they crash together and hold each other tight.

"Wait what do you guys like about me?" He asks as they all fully settle on Julie's bed fully comfortable.

He has his head in Julie's lap and his feet on Luke's. Luke has a hand gripping his ankle and his head on Julie's shoulder.

"You always make me laugh. Luke always makes me smile." Julie answers and they both look to Luke.

"Kinda the same for me too. You both just make me happy."

Humming in happy contentment as Julie runs her hand through his hair and Luke taps his fingers on his ankle, Reggie just asks one more question.

"How'd you guys figure out you liked me?"

He opens one eye to see both of them starting to blush and he has an inkling of what it could be.

"Oh my god you guys wrote a song about me didn't you!"

Julie tugs his hair but gently at the comment.

"Got it in one Reggie. Not gonna lie though it was a bit frustrating cause it was after I accepted I felt something for Luke."

"She was so mad when I realized what the song was about before her. Mainly because I had the first part done and she finished it."

Reggie chuckles at that.

"Well duh we've known each other longer but Julie was able to finish it right, like it needed her."

"Reggie man that was insanely poetic.

"I can be from time to time."

Julie rolls her eyes at that.

"Very rare times."

They all bask in the quiet for a few more seconds before Reggie rolls over and looks at them.

"Wait how are we going to tell Alex?" The raised brows from both Julie and Luke answers that for him. "Oh he knows doesn't he? That's why he just stares at me like I should already know!"

Luke sighs loudly and drops down to take the spot Reggie left.

"Yup he definitely fits the disaster Bi thing you were showing me Jules."

Reggie looks at them confused at what that means.

"What the heck does that mean?"

"Well you know Alex is Gay cause he likes only boys? Bi or bisexual is when you like both genders or more. That's at least how I describe it and feel. Luke thought he was too but then he found out about being Pansexual and said that felt more like him."

Reggie stares at them in awe.

"There's a word for it." He whispers and tries to go launch himself off the bed and open Julie's laptop on her desk but two hands latch onto him to keep him stationed on the bed.

"Nope. Enjoy the cuddling."

"Reggie we were having a moment!"

He struggles weakly before relaxing back into their arms.

"You can't just say there's a word for something I couldn't name most of my life and expect me to chill right now!" He argues but stays where he is.

They both pat his chest to comfort him.

"You can research all you want tomorrow while I'm school. I'm sure my dad can answer some questions too since he was the one who helped me figure out I was bi."

Some unknown tension lifts from Reggies chest but it's not the two hands resting there.

"Your dad is so cool."

"Cause he has such a cool daughter."

No one disagrees.

After that it's as if they've been doing this since the start. Sometimes they're all together or with at least one other person, never alone unless they need it.

For now it's enough.

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Chapter 9

Hey y’all! Sorry about the hiatus with this one. I’m so stoked to share that the inspiration is back and I’ll hopefully be back into this one to finish it out!

Slow State of Affairs

The next few days moved slowly. Despite various stakeouts and more research on the state of Vampire affairs in the United States, England, and Italy, they still had very little on Gerteso. He hadn’t been spotted at all entering MACUSA. It was starting to feel more and more like a wild goose chase than anything because they weren’t making any progress. 

Hermione had taken to spending her free time reading Amy’s Harry Potter books. Amy had been kind enough to go back to her apartment and get the rest so that Hermione could see what Rita had written. Ron and Harry had no interest in reading them, so Hermione would just share how accurate they were, which was incredible. Hermione had become convinced that Rita had other unregistered Animagi working for her, and their sole job was to spy on Harry and gather as much possible information as they could.

“You read faster than me,” Amy had commented when Hermione had finished the first three books in two days. “Would now be a good time to tell you that there are also movies?” she asked hesitantly.

Hermione had just taken Goblet of Fire off of the table. She looked at Amy. “What? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Um...no. Should I not have said that? I thought you might want to watch them, too.” Hermione’s jaw dropped as Amy went on quickly. “They’re really not as good compared to the books! The screenwriters....they really changed a lot with the char- I mean, with you all. We don’t have to watch them if you don’t want-”

“Oh, we’re watching them. As soon as the guys get back from their stakeout today.”

“What’d I miss?” Rosa asked as she came in the door. She’d been at the station in a briefing with Captain Holt and Kingsley. 

“Just making plans for the evening. Any news?” Hermione directed the conversation back to the case.

“Still nothing. Jake and Charles haven’t seen anything. Not sure what the other two are up to. Shouldn’t you be researching the case and not what some bitch wrote about your lives?” Rosa raised her eyebrow in question at Hermione.

“I’ve researched everything I possibly can. Until we get a trace on Gerteso, I won’t know any more than I already do.” It was true. 

They knew Gerteso’s motive, they’d learned everything they could about how the vampires worked, even down to known hangouts and possible headquarters. But there’d been no movement to suggest anything was happening. So, Hermione had taken solace in the books. 

Hermione continued to ponder Rosa’s words as she set the children’s book down, her mind wandering back to the case. Harry and Ron were staking out different vampire hangouts in an attempt to get more information on the Cryptic, while Jake and Charles manned the entrance to MACUSA. Could there be an angle they hadn’t yet taken in the attempts of making a breakthrough?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Jake and Charles walked through the door with Chinese takeout in hand for the evening. “Anything new?” Amy asked them hopefully.

“Nada,” Charles said as Jake shook his head. 

“Whoever this guy is, he must relish in taking his time.” Jake said in frustration.

“Well, if he’s taking his time, there has to be some reason for it,” Rosa added.

“But what is it? That’s what we can’t figure out,” Hermione thought out loud. 

Continuously stumped over it, she shook her head and checked her watch. Harry and Ron should be back soon. As if on cue, her husband and best friend walked in the door with a simple shake of their heads. Once again, no luck.

Everyone sighed as they began tucking into the food. They were all tired and losing motivation. Something needed to give, and fast. In an effort to make conversation, Amy said, “So, Hermione and I are going to watch the Sorcerer’s Stone tonight. Maybe even Chamber of Secrets if it’s not too late.”

Harry and Ron both looked up. “What’s she mean ‘watch Sorcerer’s Stone?’ Hermione?” Ron was looking back and forth between Amy and his wife.

Hermione let out a deep sigh as Boyle said, “You didn’t know there are movies, too?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry said.

“Bloody buggering hell,” Ron muttered.

“If you don’t want to watch it, I’m sure I could download the second Die Hard. There’s more than one TV here…” Jake suggested.

Harry and Ron thought about it. “We should probably watch it. At least we’re not watching ourselves...just watching people act like us.”

Amy looked excited, but also nervous. “I feel like I should warn you, as an avid fan, the books are MUCH better than the movies.”

“What d’you mean by that?” Ron asked.

“Well, the first few movies are a fairly good adaptation of the books, but as they go on, stuff gets left out or changed.”

“Wait, so it’s bad enough the story of my life is in a children’s series, then it was made into movies, and those movies don’t even do the books justice?” Harry said in dismay. “Can this get any worse?”

“Well, not really for you, no,” Boyle said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked.

“You’ll see,” Charles immediately went back to his food. Ron looked at Amy for further clarification.

“The screenwriters changed some of the characters. But we may not even get to the later movies, so I wouldn’t worry about it,” Amy said quickly.

“Great,” Harry said. 

They all finished their meal and cleaned up before settling in the living area for the movie. Harry and Ron gladly took a beer from Jake who was offering them up. Maybe alcohol would make the experience easier. They settled into the movie, and by the time they reached the end, Hermione had to admit that, all things considered, it wasn’t terrible. She didn’t speak at first, though. Instead, she waited for Harry and Ron’s reaction.

“Of all the stink people gave about my eyes growing up, they chose an actor who didn’t even have green eyes?” Harry finally said. Everyone burst into laughter at that, and the tension seemed to be released from the air. 

“I suppose it was fairly close, all things considered,” Hermione acknowledged.

“Ron, were you really that much of a badass on the chess board?” Jake asked.

“I- yeah, I guess. They downplayed the injury, though,” Ron said as his ears turned pink.

“Well, it is a kid’s movie,” Rosa commented. 

“How close was the depiction of Voldemort?” Amy asked eagerly. 

“Er, pretty close. Quirrell really was the perfect host,” Harry told her. “And the turban was the perfect disguise to cover him up.” 

“I always did wonder how well Voldemort breathed in that thing,” Ron said, as everyone chuckled and agreed.

The conversation had continued on about the various characters and how closely the characters did or didn’t match their real life counterpart. But Hermione had stopped listening. She was stuck on something that Harry had said. The word disguise kept playing over and over in her mind.

Suddenly, Hermione looked up at the rest of the group around the room. “That’s it!” 

“What? Hermione, we might need to have a talk if Alan Rickman as Snape gets you off…” Ron joked.

“I- What?” Hermione looked at him. She didn’t let the confusion of his words bother her for very long, though. “Nevermind that. What if Gerteso is using a disguise to get in and out of MACUSA?”

“What makes you say that?” Jake asked.

“Well, you’ve been staking out the entrance every day. After the altercation in the alley, he’s bound to remember you! He’s been so secretive and getting away with things for so long. Of course he’s not moving around in the open, especially now that he knows we’re onto him! He must be disguising himself!”

Realization began to dawn on everyone. “You know, Hermione, you might just be onto something!” Harry said.

“And we’ve been spending all this time in underground vampire bars, when we should be watching MACUSA!” Ron said. “Hermione, you really are a genius!”

Hermione blushed at his words. Even after years of marriage, his praise always meant the world to her. Instead of thanking him though, she said, “Always the tone of surprise,” as she smiled at him. 

It was always their ‘thing’ that they said to each other, though perhaps the whole world also knew, too. She’d have to make a note to check for that when she got to the seventh book. If Rita did have such close tabs on them, even during the hunt, she had to give her credit for not selling them out to Voldemort…

“...Earth to Hermione,” she heard Jake say, “So what do you suggest tomorrow’s plan be, then?”

“Oh..right, sorry. Well, Harry and Ron should probably go investigate in the wand records office tomorrow.”

“But we don’t know what we’re investigating,” Harry said. “It’s not like we know The Cryptic’s actual name.”

Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought about what Harry had said. He was right, but before she could work it out herself, Amy chimed in. “What if you don’t need to know his name? Is there a visitor log you can track?”

“Yes! There’s a general sign in at the lobby, and another more detailed one in the wand records office. They don’t typically let anyone in that office.” Hermione answered.

“So if Gerteso’s been there, we’ll have a way to see what he was looking for,” Boyle said.

“Or what he found!” Jake added.

“And if he hasn’t been yet, he’s still working out a plan to get what he’s looking for successfully,” said Rosa. “If that’s the case, we’ll be more prepared to catch him.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Hermione’s mind was in overdrive, formulating details for tomorrow. “Now, we plan.”

[violetnotez]

Disneyland and Lightsabers- Kaminari x Reader

Because there is never enough Kami fanfic and Im missing Disneyland ;(

Also, Kaminari and Izuku are definitely Star Wars nerds. Fight me not really pls i have noodle arms

Kaminari x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1250+

Warnings: some cussing

Summary: Kaminari and you visit Disneyland with Class UA and your boyfriend becomes a mega nerd in the middle of TomorrowLand

One Shot

Everyone had been so excited for the trip to Disneyland-especially you and Kaminari. You being the mildly obsessed Disney freak that could sing every song without fail and Kaminari never have gone, you both were psyched to experience the magic of Disney. You spent weeks planning, researching, and discussing what rides to ride on, what group pics to take, and what yummy foods to gorge yourself with. 

Now you were here, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic.

All morning you were having the best time of your life. Your group, which consisted of Shouto, Midoriya, Uraraka, Sero, and Mina, were having the best time running into rides and taking dumb pictures around the park. But as the midday rush came and the sun was beating down on your group, you all felt like you were living in a sauna.

“No gonna lie,” Mina huffed out under the sheen of sweat trickling down her face, “I don’t think I can do this-how are wearing black Todoroki?”

Todoroki shrugged, not a drop of sweat evident on his face even with an adorablely clingy Izuku latched on to him as your group walked down the packed lanes of Tomorrowland.

“I’m cold blooded.”

“Wish we were back in Space Mountain,” Uraraka added tiredly, her bangs starting to stick to her forehead, “it was so cold.”

You looked at the tired faces of your friends and sighed. You were trying so hard to be the optimistic, happy one of the group that kept everyone on their feet and moving. But you had to admit that you were extremely hot too. You looked around as you dodged strollers full of children, hoping a nice quiet spot to rest in the shade was open-to no avail. It seemed like every family had taken a spot that was out of the hot California sun.

You sighed.

 “Why don’t we just go into a store? There’ll be some air conditioning in there.”

“Can we please?” Mina begged, Sero nodding frantically as his bangs, too, began to stick to his skin.

You laughed exhaustedly from their childish desperation.

“Hey look,” Kaminari pointed, “that store sells lightsabers!”

Kaminari and Izuku looked at each other, a common love arising on their faces. Izuku finally clung off of Shouto and Kaminari let go of your hand, leaving you and Shouto to watch the two nerds run in like 5 year olds.

Shouto looked at you and shook his head.

“Nerds.”

The store was a noticeable few degrees lower than outside, even with the hoards of families walking inside. The whole group sighed in relief, allowing the rush of cold air to sweep over your bodies. 

After that relief, you began to look for your fanboy of a boyfriend.You walked past bundles of children and Star Wars merchandise, puzzled on how you couldn’t find either boy.

You turned to Uraraka (who was obviously in awe by the store), confusion plastered on your face.

“Where do you think they-“

“OH MY GOD DUDE THEY HAVE COUNT DOOKU’S LIGHTSABER?!?” 

You heard Kamianri yell a few octaves too high as he pointed frantically at a wall of lightsabers.

You smirked. 

“Never mind.”

You walked over, a sly grin plastered on your face as you snuck up on Kami as he was gushing over the toys with Izuku, tapping your finger against his shoulder lightly.

“Having fun over here?” You asked, a smile playing on your lips.

Kaminari slightly jumped, surprised his quirk didnt go off and shock you from the scare. He felt his heartbeat go up, chuckling at your obviously smug face.

“Yeah,” Kaianri sighed, breathless with excitement, “it’s just-these are so cool! I’ve always wanted one of these since I was a kid.”

“Really, Kami? I thought you had a bunch of those things,” you said, remembering the bucket of old toy lightsabers you found at the back of Kaminari’s closet.

“Yeah I know,” he agreed,” I just-always wanted a real one-one I could build myself, ya know? Be a real Jedi and do what they did.”

“Oh,” you nodded as you agreed, giggling at his adorableness.“Should I sign you up for the Jedi Training here too?”

Kami’s face light up, grabbing your shoulders and shaking them slightly.

“Oh my god could you please?!”

You laughed, brushing your finger on the bridge of Kaminari’s nose, something you loved to do because it made him a blushing mess.

To no surprise, his checks turn a soft shade of red. 

“Believe me Kami, I would  if I could.” 

You both look at the lightsaber station and the group of crazy kids becoming their own Jedi as they meticulously built their weapons.You turned back to Kami, the softness in your eyes making his heart thump. He loved when you looked at him straight on-he could look and appreciate every facial feature that made you you- the color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, the outline of your lips: everything about you he found cute, beautiful, and attractive, and he loved to absorb it all in.

“What color do you think you’ll pick?” You asked.

Kami blinked his eyes a couple time, his daze being broken. “Huh?”

You giggled, making his checks warm. He always felt sheepish when he realized he had been staring at you.

“I said, what color are going to get?” 

You bopped his nose again, making his checks go redder, making his bright yellow eyes stand out.He fumbled with his hair, giving you a cheecky grin. 

“The blue one, obviously!”

“That’s so basic Denki!” You laughed.

“It’s the best color though!” He argued happily. 

“Obi-Wan used it-well, until Darth Vader killed him-oh and Qui Gon-until Darth Maul killed him too…Anakin- he turned into Darth Vader and got a red one-and Luke…except when Vader cut his hand off he got a green one…”

You looked at him, you eyebrows raised in concern and amusement, a comment on your lips that you were holding back to spill.

“What?” Denki asked, Noticing the look you were giving him

You smiled wide. “Nothing….”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to get your thoughts out of you.

He grabbed your hand as you turned away to hide your smile, making you look at him as a laugh escaped out of you.

“No, I’m not gonna tell you!” You shouted, crinkling your eyes closed. Kami’s face was right next to yours, your hands on his chest. Being so close to Kaminari was nerve racking, and the feeling made you feel like being dropped from a 4 story building, the smell of his cologne making you feel warm.

“Come on-please tell me,” He asked as his fingers sat dangerously near your ribs-your tickle spot. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending rivulets of energy up your spine, making your head shoot up.

You looked at him, eyes wide. 

“Denki I swear to god-“

“Hey love birds!” Sero yelled as Mina raised her chin as a greeting to you two, “come On! Our Fastpasses to Star Tours are almost up!”

You looked at Kaminari, an evil grin on your face as you poked his stomach on the side.

 Kami grabbed his stomach instinctively, even though it didn’t hurt at all.

“You’re mean.” He said with a fake pout.“

“And you’re a nerd.”

“But you already knew that about me,” he replied, making you shake your head.“

”I guess,” you replied smiling,

 “Wait-,” you asked, “didn’t you want to buy a lightsaber?”

“Yeah… Maybe I can-“ Denki began, but the sight of Sero frantically waving him down and pointing at the time on his phone made him think otherwise.He sighed. 

“I guess I can get it later.”

“You sure?” You asked, knowing how much Kami wanted that toy.“

“Yeah, Yeah,” He reassured you, “I can get it later. Besides- we have all day.”

You looked back at the table, trying to make a plan that would satisfy everyone.

“Well what if I stayed back and got you the lightsaber?”

“Wait no y/n I can’t let you do that!” Kamianri protested. “We said we were going to do Star Tours and try to get one of us to be the spy, remember! I dont want to ruin our plans because of this.”

“But-” you protested.

“Please, I don’t need it-lets just go-I’m fine, seriously!”The more he talked, the more desperation played in his voice.

You gave him an unconvinced look. “Are you sure??”

“Yeah, Yeah,” He said in a fake airy manner, “I’ll be fine-I’ll just-get it later.”

He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed your hand, leading you to the group, Izuku back to being latched on to Shouto and everyone looking way more energetic than before.

“Lets go fight some space baddies!” Mina yelled, Uraraka and Sero cheering as they jogged out of the store, you four following behind.

————-

Later never really came. Ride after ride after ride, and it seemed Kami was never going back to that shop.

Night had now fallen, and you felt Kami’s hand fidget in yours.

“Do you think we’ll be able to go back?” He asked, his big puppy dog eyes boating into yours.You wanted to go back, but your call back time for the adults to drive all the students to the hotel was in 10 minutes, and you were a whole 2 lands away from the designated meet up spot. There was no way you could convince the group to walk more, and no way to expect to buy that lightsaber in that time.“I don’t know…” you said, not wanting to bring his hopes down. 

You know Kami would try his best to not look disappointed, but he never was very good at covering his emotions up.

As expected, you watched his face fall a little.“Awwww...I guess I’ll just have to do it next time…”

Even though you thought it was slightly childish to want a toy so badly, you thought it was cute and adorable, and it broke your heart a little to see the one thing he wanted to go unfulfilled. It was like watching a kid on Christmas not receive the one gift their heart desired so desperately-it was heartbreaking and little guilty to watch.You grasped his hand, rubbing your finger against his skin, wondering how you could fix the situation. That’s when a light bulb went off.You turned to Denki, false distress on your face. You let go of his hand, turning to the group as you yelled, “I gotta go to the bathroom-I’ll met with you guys later!” And instantly running off, completely startling Kami and everyone in the group.

 Everyone was focused on their bloated bellies, tired feet, and sleepiness, so the sound of your voice breaking their quiet self muddling completely startled them shit less. Kami shook his head as he tried to comprehend what happened in his worn out state,watching your back as you ran off.

Uraraka walked up between Kaminari and Sero who had took your place next to Kami, pointing at a crowded corner a few feet away from the trio.

Uraraka cocked her eyes, asking, “She knows the bathrooms there, right?”You were nowhere to be seen, and Kamianri looked around confused. “Where did she go?” He asked, completely bewildered by your actions.

After Izuku  reassured Kami that you would come back after a few minutes of him yelling frantically for you like you were a lost child, they rushed back to the assigned meet up spot. The night air drifted coolily through Kamianri’s hair and clothing, cooling his warm body. The sound of crickets chirping on the ground and the soft blinking of lights in the trees made him feel like he was in a dream like state-until he thought of you. When he finally realized you hadnt made it back, his heart rate shot up, his senses going into overdrive. Instinctively, he began to think of every possible bad scenario-you somehow getting so lost you wouldn’t make it time and get in trouble, you getting hurt, someone Kidnaping you… the scenarios went on and on, becoming more ridiculous and more scary nevertheless. He stood there, deciding to call you and ask if you are okay, until he finally saw you running up, a Disneyland bag in your hand as you desperately tried to shove it in your backpack with little success.

He jogged up towards you, smiling slightly as he breathed a breath of relief. His face took in a serious note as he asked, “Where did you go?”

You cocked your eyebrow mischievously, giving him a slight grin. 

“Nowhere-Just the bathroom.” You stated matter of factly, disguising your smile by tying up your hair.

Kami could tell you were lying just by the pitch of your voice-it always went up slightly because you were excited or nervous to tell him something.

He chuckled as he shook his head.

“You are a-terrible liar,” he laughed.

“Oh don’t act like you’re any better Denki,” you smiled as patted his cheek.“Now come on,” you grabbed his hand tenderly, “we got a bus to catch.”

————-

He didn’t see you the rest of the night after roll call. Kami sat next to Sero the whole ride back due to the stupid “gender-with-gender” rule they have on school trips, and checked into his hotel room with him. He sat on the bed, sending you a good night text as Sero changed out of his clothes and fell asleep in seconds.

Denki stayed up, waiting for your reply. He wasn’t worried that you were taking awhile because he expected you were taking a little more time going to bed. His eyes began to become more droopy, and before he knew it he was fast asleep.

Morning came, Kaminari stretching up with a loud yawn. The warm California sun flitted through the curtains, blinding him. He rolled over, checking the time on his clock: 6:15 am.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes: damn this bright light waking him up so early. He debated whether on not to just suck it up and close the curtains, but he knew if he did he would wake up and be screwed the rest of the day.

He laid on his back, thinking quietly as Sero snored in the bed next to him. A smile dawned on his face- if he could sneak into your room, he could go and snuggle with you and go back to sleep. He knew that you were bunking with Uraraka- but- she wouldnt mind right? Nah.

He got up, stretching, and grabbing his pillow as he opened the door. To his surprise, though, right in front of the door was a blue Disneyland bag, the castle adorning the front as Tinkerbell happily tapped the tallest tower with her wand.

He looked down, confused- the hell left this here? He looked at his sleeping friend, racking his brain to remember if maybe Sero bought something yesterday that he left on the floor when he feel asleep. Kaminari couldnt remember, confusion plastered on his tired face.

He bent down, feeling his sore feet as he checked the bag. There was a single note on it, the stationary having the name of the hotel at the bottom. He noticed it was your handwriting, immediately recognizing the loops and angle of the words that made it yours.

The note didn’t have much to read. The only words written on it were-“Sorry not sorry ;)”

He smiled, shaking his head, setting the note down as he pulled out a blue lightsaber out of the bag.

Kamianri gasped in shock and excitement. He already had a feeling what was in the bag you had earlier, but he was so tired he didnt even think twice to prod you anymore about it He bite his lower lip, his heart swelling with love. He didn’t know why you went through all that trouble for him. His smile widen, his body giddy with excitement.  

If he could, he would go and propose to you right then and there.

————-

Should I write more Disneyland stories for the boys? Cause this was fun!

(RULES  | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

[shantanu-b]

Trek to Dudhsagar Falls in Monsoons

‘I had a stone in my hand and I was ready for any possible strike on me or my brother. We still had 3 kms to cover barefoot on the railway track with pitch black dark night, glittering fireflies and creatures surrounding us.’

We had our bags packed and we were ready for the most exciting trip of our lives- ‘GOA’. I’ve been to this wonderful coastal state a couple of times before, but this time I was excited for the wonderful ‘Doodhsagar Trek’. Exploring the falls in the peak season of monsoon was thrilling. Heard a lot about it, saw its mesmerizing beauty in the movies and invested numerous hours researching about the same. I was ready for it and I knew it: this will be a trip of a lifetime. We reached Goa and after checking-in we planned our trek the very next day. We prepared ourselves for 25km walk, which was new to us. We had a lot of questions in mind and there were no answers to them. We inquired about Doodhsagar from almost everyone we met during our journey but all had a single answer, “Its closed during monsoon”. The question in front of us was should we plan something else, drop the plan or shall we go and see ourselves if it’s really closed. We decided to give it a try. It was a 3 hour drive from our hotel (Calangute) to Collem. I memorized the map, gathered all the essentials and started on our rented Activa towards Collem. Goa does’nt fall short of impressing you with its scenic natural beauty. You want to photograph every landscape you see. The curvy wet roads keep on testing your driving skills.

As we were moving from Calangute to Collem and left the main city behind, the real beauty of Goa started emerging. The Wine shops started vanishing and the trees, local people & mountains started appearing more and embraced us in. The locals were innocent, the roads were tricky and the air was moist. Many a times we thought that we’re approaching a wrong destination coz of the small roads and almost nil traffic.

Small water streams were flowing from the corners of the roads, as if accompanying us towards the destination. We took a lot of wrong turns because we missed the small signboards. After 3 hours of our Activa ride we reached our destination. The final approach road to Collem was small and had lots of turns with no proper sign-board. We decided to have lunch once we reach Collem. So we did’nt eat and kept on driving till Collem to save some daylight for us. Once we reached the entry point of Collem village a bunch of local guides approached us and they knew by looking at our rented Activa that we came there for the famous ‘Doodhsagar Trek’. As we became sure of reaching the right destination, heavy rains welcomed us and vanished within minutes. It seemed that this small town did’nt have any proper snacks shops or restaurants and the best option available for lunch was Wada-pav. We ate, booked our guide (INR 500/person), packed some chips, water bottles and started on our journey.

Our guide asked us to pay INR 50/person for the life jacket which he said is mandatory to buy and then we started with the other 3 people in the group. Two of them were from Bengal and one was from Kerala. We approached the railway tracks going towards the fall through a small garden. The garden had elephants having their meal and we tried to capture everything we saw. Little we knew that this will turn out of great help at the end of our journey. As we started walking slowly on the railway tracks, we clicked photos, cracked jokes and we got ourselves far behind from our guide and group. We met a few groups returning from the fall and asked them how far it is. ‘’Bohot dur hai bhai, 15 kms subeh se nikle hai police bhi hai udhar’’ one of them said. We suddenly felt like reuniting with our group and paced up to meet them again. Then at one point our guide took us away from the railway track and started walking on the jungle route. The tracks we followed in the jungle were the ones used for jungle safari by local govt. We crossed various water streams, big and small on our route. Some were easy to cross while others were hard. We often felt like Bear Grylls from ‘Man vs Wild’ following trails and crossing streams. We were gaining altitude, through the dense forest without any clue of the route. All we had were visuals of the person climbing in front of us. We were moving in a line, one after the other. By any means if we got slow, there was a risk of getting lost and missing the trail. After climbing through the dense forest for half an hour we were again on the jungle safari route and now we were able to hear loud noise of water streams flowing close to the mountain.

We knew it’s close but were unable to see it. We kept looking for it from every gap we got from the dense jungle but it was nowhere to be seen. All we had were loud roars of the flowing water. After walking for a good 10mins in anticipation finally we had our first visual treat. A small opening between the dense cover of leaves gave us a small visual of the mighty falls. It was huge, vivacious and was roaring loud. It appeared as if the water was falling in slow motion and as the name suggests it was all white like milk. The first sight of the falls opened our last energy boost. We started walking again with more speed and reached the official entry point of the Doodhsagar Fall. Our guide took us to the bottom of the fall, it was amazing to see the water falling from such a great height. We felt the power of the water and we were astonished by its aggression. Our guide told us not to get too near the water as the stones were very slippery and the current could’ve easily flowed us back to Goa for free. When the fall officially opens the tourists can take bath in the pond where water was falling. But in off season nobody dares to touch the water.

While looking up at the falls we noticed a bridge. Yes, the famous bridge from the movie ‘Chennai Express’. We were again not allowed to go there, as the policemen stops tourists from getting off the train on the bridge. Our guide denied going there, saying that it is forbidden for guides to take tourists there. We could see group of people exploring more colors of the fall from the top of the bridge. Three of us, the Kerala guy, me and my brother from the group of 5 decided to go further. Our guide took us to the railway tracks, we paid him, he took our life jackets back, explained us the directions to get back and said ‘Good Luck’.

We three started walking on the railway track, there were rough tunnels on the route. The tunnels were pouring water at us with their personal small streams. We were all wet, the raincoats didnt worked, there was water in the air, in the tunnel, on the tracks, from the mountains, everywhere as if someone is playing with rain. A goods train passed when we were in the tunnel. It was a long train, and that was the time i watched the tunnel more closely. Even the tunnel looked amazing to me, it seemed unfinished and rough but still beautiful.

Finally, we came out of our last tunnel and saw the mighty fall again from the bridge. It took us close to 4hr completing the trek, we started at 11 am and reached our destination at 3pm. There were tourists on the track, gang-men working on the tracks and water fall entertaining everybody by simply flowing. It was huge and mighty, now we were in the middle of the falls and we could see the top and bottom end. We clicked selfies, kept staring at it, discussed the stupid thoughts of jumping into it, discussed Chennai Express, imagined SRK and Deepika being at the same spot, discussed the idea of climbing the mountain, and visually tracked a path to get more close to the water. 

After spending close to half an hour we started walking towards the Doodhsagar station which was 1.5 km from the falls. The idea was to catch a goods/passenger train and reach back Collem. So, we started walking again to reach the Doodhsagar station. After coming out of a long tunnel, we saw the sign board of Doodhsagar station. 

The railway station looked isolated. Not a single person to ask for help. We looked for the Station Master and he was sleeping in his room. We asked him when the next train is scheduled, and he shocked us. ‘‘Tomorrow, morning’’, he said. We again asked him if there’re any goods train scheduled to arrive, and he denied. “No trains before 6 am tomorrow.” So, our plan of getting back on a goods train failed. May be the station master didn’t wanted us to board a goods train illegally, so we asked few more people and got the same answer from everyone. He advised to reach a station 4km down the line and spend the night at the Doodhsagar Devi temple and catch the train tomorrow. It sounded good to us, so we prepared ourselves and started back walking by the railway track towards that station. We reached the falls again and took our last selfies with it. We kept walking on the tracks and were now discussing the dangers of the jungle. Our walking speed increased when we came to know about Panther, Tigers and king cobras residing in the same jungle. The Kerala guy was ahead of us as he was walking way faster. We lost track of him after some time, he did’nt stopped for us and went ahead alone. After walking for 2 hours straight we reached this station called Sonalium, time was 6 pm and it started getting dark. Plan was to reach the ‘Dudhsagar Devi Temple’ and spend the night there. But at the station a railway employee told us the temple is closed u can’t go there and Collem is not far, its hardly one hour walk and u’ll reach there. This place is not safe to rest for the whole night better reach Collem, and there will be light till 7pm. We asked few more people, and everybody advised us to do the same. There was no energy left in our body. Our legs were shaking after the whole trek and we just wanted to rest. But the things were not in our favour, we had to walk, no option other that. We decided to cover the remaining ghat section with the energy we had left in us.

The railway employee explained the marking poles to us. These poles were installed on both side of the track every 100m with some numbers on them. We were explained those, the above number tells the number of kms we’ve covered and the number below it has the tenth part of km mentioned on it. So if its 152/1, on the left pole it means the junction you are walking from is 152 km & 100 m away from that point. Similar rules follow for the markings on the right side. We were told that we just have 4 kms more to cover so basically at pole no 156/1 we should reach our destination. 

We started walking, i was walking faster than Nikhil, and now I was facing trouble in walking on the uneven railway tracks. Sometimes the sleepers(cement blocks) were clear with no stones but majority of the times the sleepers were covered in stones, and it made walking tough. We did’nt had shoes for the whole trek, coz the shoes would have caused us more trouble in this season, so we were in our chappals. The on/off of rain was still going on, and the jungle noises were becoming louder. All we wanted was to reach the destination as soon as possible, we were trying to think random things so that we are not scared. Nikhil was humming tunes, and I was in my dreamy world, imagining things. I again started thinking like Bear Grylls and was continuously recalling his lessons. How to deal with a panther, a tiger or a python. The light was getting low, and now the Railway signal lights were becoming more brighter, the poles still read 155/1. Every 100m was taking more time & felt tough to cover. We were walking very slowly, we had no energy left in us, we were on the Vada Paav we ate in the morning and Nikhil lost our Chips bag somewhere between the approach trail. We were trying to cover our last km with more speed but were not able to walk. Pole no 156/1 arrived finally and with it came the darkness. Our destination didn’t come, we were supposed to reach Collem by now, but we haven’t. So where are we, did we took a wrong turn, is it far more to cover, what to do now?

I did a quick analysis we didn’t crossed any junctions in between, so we were on track. Only station after Sonaulium is Collem so may be the station is few kms more. With no energy in us, complete darkness and low hopes we started again. Pole number 156/6 is now the starting point and what is the ending point, do we know, no we don’t know. Pitch black darkness, no source of lights at all, we couldn’t see ourselves, not the track, not the poles, everything was black. Our phones had no network, and less battery. With battery percentage at 12% Nikhil started his flashlight. We kept walking slowly, chasing our destination, looking for lights, there were fireflies glittering around. It looked beautiful but we were very scared. I had stones in my hand, and I was ready to hit anything attacking me from behind. What if a Panther/tiger has got his eyes set on us, imagine the situation in the image without light. Nobody will know our last location and will our bodies be found?

Nikhil’s legs were getting heavy, he was not able to walk properly. There were different sounds coming from the jungle, the air was still wet and in that darkness we could’ve easily stepped on a python or cobra. Things were becoming risky. We reached pole number 161/1 and saw lights coming from a distance, we thought now we might get saved, may be the city arrived. We reached the light and it was the start of the city. We realized the value of light that day after being in darkness without hope for more than 3 hrs. We finally sat by the side of the track, smiled at each other and finally completed the craziest adventures. Was it worth it, yes it was totally. Were we alive? Yes! We were. We realized that we should have listened to our guide, and should have come back with him safely. Now we had 3 hrs of drive ahead of us to reach our hotel. Now the question was who will drive?

END

[robotslenderman]

Think I’ve finally nailed down Mehra’s story in between getting exiled and ending up in the Dark Brotherhood.

Post-Morag Tong, she meets Quen and helps rebuild the Thieves Guild, going through the quests and everything.

She’s pretty highly ranked in the Thieves Guild except there’s a problem... she keeps killing people on jobs. This isn’t too much of a problem at first, but other thieves are like “The hell, Mehra?” She’s supposed to be a disciplined Morag Tong-raised woman, they don’t kill people they’re not supposed to. But she keeps doing it.

(Sometimes she swears she hears Velsa or Zeira or Quen telling her to kill someone, but it becomes quickly apparent to Mehra that that's... not actually happening. They wouldn't do that and then get mad at her for it. Not all three of them at once. Surely?)

Eventually she brings too much heat on the Thieves Guild and she’s asked to leave by Zeira. It's not a hostile kicking-out - it's a sad parting, and Mehra is understanding. She's secretly paranoid the whole thing was orchestrated, but she doesn't let herself resent them and just. Leaves.

Floats around for a while. She knows the DB is probably the only place left to go, but she doesn't want to. Still, she researches them. Stalks a few DB agents she runs into. Ends up tracking down and watching the Black Hand at some kind of Black Marsh ceremony where the Shadowscales are hatched. She's hiding in a basket, watching through the gaps.

When suddenly Nevusa (my headcanon Listener) opens the basket and, without looking down, drops a book on Mehra's head. The Night Mother, she says to the rest of the Black Hand, told her to do that, and then they leave.

it's the Litany of Blood.

Mehra ends up spending the next few months fulfilling it, because... why not? She doesn't have anything better to do. Meanwhile in the Kvatch Sanctuary they're boggled that an outsider has been chosen to do the Litany, and red spectral statues are appearing but the killer hasn't been recruited yet.

Eventually each pedestal is filled, but... still no killer. The Night Mother still hasn't told Nevusa where to find this killer. In reality, Mehra moves around too quickly to be reliably tracked down, so NM is still waiting for her to settle.

(Headcanon is that the Litany is only ever completed by future Listeners. So the whole Kvatch Sanctuary is especially apprehensive and excited because there's a future Listener out there, and nobody, not even Nevusa, knows who it is.)

Eventually Mehra hears about the DB presence in Kvatch, so goes there. She still doesn't want to join, but it's not like she has any other career options.

there's no Thieves Den there, so she relocates to Anvil.

By day she poses as a beggar, using the disguise to scope out houses. By night she cleans out houses and, occasionally, kills. Sometimes she just kills - she hovers on a roof, waits, then just drops on someone on an alley and stabs them in the back.

The DB eventually get wind that there's a serial killer in Anvil. The NM still hasn't said anything to Nevusa - Mehra isn't sleeping anywhere secure, but Nevusa wonders if it's their Litany killer and puts out feelers.

Nobody ever looks at Mehra twice. She's got horrific burn scars and she pesters people for money - people avoid her, they don't stare, so nobody notices her Tong tattoos, let alone anyone who'd recognise them. Mehra thinks it's hilarious, because the second anyone spotted her tattoos they'd quickly realise she's the killer.

But nobody ever looks, so they don't. She sticks out because she's very distinct as both a Dunmer beggar and one so badly scarred, but still people ignore her.

The killer is eventually active enough that the Kvatch Sanctuary actively investigates. Nevusa is pretty sure it's the Litany killer because the method of killing is the same as the Litany victims - as Nevusa found out when she out out feelers. A single knife to the back, right in the artery beside the spine.

Kvatch Sanctuary gets excited again because their future Listener is in the area and fucking up people for the lulz.

But they can't. Fucking. Catch her. There's never any witnesses, or survivors. Nobody acting suspicious at night (by DB standards, anyway). Remains-Silent, Venom and Mirabelle are brought in to try and find suspects - nothing. Elam is stationed at the Thieves Den full time to keep an eye out for potential hit men or freelance assassins - nada.

It doesn't help that Mehra got shy when they showed up, and stopped killing for a while.

Elam does spot Mehra in the TD occasionally and points her out to Nevusa as one of the more suspicious denizens of the TD, but she doesn't like to talk to Elam and her entire face stays covered, so he doesn't yet connect her to the scarred beggar.

Eventually things get quiet enough that Terenus gives Astara permission to pull everyone out of Anvil, so she does. Clearly, the litany killer has moved on.

And the fucking killings start up again almost immediately.

Cue DB facedesking. This time they just keep Mirabelle and Elam down there.

Mirabelle is a servant listening for gossip, working at the barracks. She's to report any progress the guards make on finding the killer, and to inspect the bodies whenever she can.

Elam is to stay in the TD and just get work. In game, IIRC, not everyone uses the Black Sacrament to get the DB's attention and if I remember right Elam is the one they contact if they don't. So in my headcanon Elam spends a lot of time in Kvatch getting work the old fashioned way. Well, now he's charged with doing it in Anvil and he's not allowed to come home until the litany killer comes with him.

So Elam spends time bored out of his mind, missing home, hoping nobody is messing up the Sanctuary too much, and getting work.

The TD is, for once, grateful there's an agent of the DB hanging around because the litany killer keeps picking off *their* guys, because who else is hanging out in alleyways at 3AM?

There isn't much privacy in the TD but he still has to give out work, and the thieves and pirates and so on give Elam as much leg room as they can.

Eventually his Brothers and Sisters start complaining their targets are dead before they can get to them. Elam has Mirabelle look into it, but still lets clients think the DB did it.

Mirabelle reports back that their would-be targets are getting killed by a single knife to the back.

Nevusa's reaction upon hearing about this: "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Elam's is to break down into laughter so hard he can't breathe.

The litany killer is now actively fucking with them and stealing their kills.

and they still don't have a clue who it is

Good news: this means the litany killer comes by the Thieves Den often enough that they eavesdrop on Elam's business deals, or at least enough to know who's pissed at who and who's planning on getting the DB involved.

Elam still thinks this is the funniest thing ever, but when the fences of the TD are notified they are Not Amused and start more actively working with the DB. They want the litany killer dead. The DB decide not to disclose that they're recruiting them.

The fences and the denizens of the TD do some fund raising and ask everyone to pitch in for a DB contract. At this point they've started calling her "Litany", since the DB have spread her moniker.

Mehra contributes a huge amount because she thinks it's just as funny as Elam does. They have the exact same sense of humour.

Those who know Litany stole the DB's kills no longer bother going to Elam and just stand in the middle of the TD and yell, "Hey, Litany, kill X for me!"

which she does

Some with a sense of humour start egging Litany to steal the underwear of someone they hate and stick it on the spire of the nearby Chapel.

She does this too

Litany is suddenly as popular for their sense of humour as they're hated for killing people's buddies.

Elam is like "our future Listener is *awesome*"

Nevusa doesn't know whether to be amused or exasperated.

Astara is Not Amused.

Then a break comes - someone fresh off a ship hears about Litany, and mentions it's similar to some killings in Hew's Bane. They're practically kidnapped and taken to Elam.

They tell Elam that they're a footpad from Abah's Landing, visiting some relative or other, and that some high ranking Dunmer in the Thieves Guild got kicked out for killing too many people while on the job. Mentions that she's a former member of the Morag Tong.

which... seems to fit Litany's MO. Nevusa is aware that *somehow* the Litany of Blood ended up in Litany's hands from Black Marsh, and the killings were done so professionally even the DB can't track them down. For it to be Morag Tong sounds right.

Cue Nevusa going to Abah's Landing, personally, to visit Zeira.

Who - if reluctantly - confirms that... yup, there was a Dunmer here called Mehra Adrano, former Tong. Liked to backstab people she shouldn't. Lovely woman, just... too stabby for the guild. Very lost after her exile from the Tong. Talked openly about how she thought she was going to wind up in the Brotherhood until the Thieves Guild took her. Zeira's surprised she hasn't ended up in there yet.

"We're working on it," says Nevusa. "We're finding it difficult to track her down."

Zeira gives Nevusa a description and as much info as she can. Nevusa does some research, uncovers Mehra’s backstory as Dralsea Sadri.

Nevusa returns to Anvil, where Elam and Astara still haven't tracked her down, and gives them Mehra’s description.

Elam is like "fuck, she's that scarred redheaded Dunmer?! I give her a few coins every time I buy my lunch! I talked to her like five minutes ago!"

They grab the Shadowscales and go to confront her...

Mehra’s sitting on her pallet, notices the Dark Brotherhood's Listener, Executioner, and a bunch of Shadowscales approaching her, and is like "and it only took you lot eighteen fucking months to track me down. Oh, by the way, here's your book back, Nevusa."

And the rest is history.

[chrysaliseuro2019]

Grecian (Ret)Urn

After much deliberation we had decided that 8 days back near the beach and in the sun was our preferred way to end the hols (apart from 3 days in London at the very end). We left the Helka at around 9.15 in the morning. It was close to the metro and our advice had been that metro (1 stop) to the railway station and then train to the airport was the way to go. Cost us the princely sum of 5 euros each vs taxi of 25. It went like clockwork. We were at the airport just after 10.00 for a 12.40 flight.

Next leg of around 3.5 hours to Istanbul also went to plan. A 3 hour wait in Istanbul though we found some reclining lounges so a nap was on if you chose. Another hour + to Thessaloniki. Liz had contacted the hotel and they said to call when we landed and they would send someone to pick us up. That went well too. A day of travel we got into our room at around 9.20pm ie 12 hours on but all went to plan. We are fans of Turkish airlines our experiences with them have been good.

The hotel Avalon was just a resting point for the night. We didn’t want to go into the big city of Thessaloniki with so few days left so had hired a car from the airport and needed to pick it up the next morning. Hotel did the job and sound breakfast thrown in. I was still getting everything together at checkout time and Liz went downstairs with her case to pay. When I arrived it was to the smirks of the receptionist. Liz had obviously informed her that I can dot the i’s and cross the t’s when packing up (and rumour has it more generally) so hence me bringing up the rear.

At 10.30 we were at Avis taking the keys of the car. A Fiat Panda. Small but a bit of grunt and importantly takes our two cases. These are soft bags quite large but also frustrating as they can be tough to zip up (as ever we have more gear than we need). Also their capacity is less than the lightweight American Tourister bags we used for several years. However you can compress them enough to fit into small boots like the Panda and Fiat Punto we hired. More rigid bags would have been no chance. Also a strong preference is not to have a bag on the back seat which might invite thieves.

We are heading for the Halkidiki area which is basically three peninsulas south of Thessaloniki. Our first stop is a place called Nea Moudania just shy of the Kassandra peninsula which is the westernmost one. Also being the closest to Thessaloniki it is the most built up and touristy. This has pros and cons but we are at the height of the tourist season so very booked out all over. Liz did her usual poring over travel info and booking.com and somehow plucked out N. Moudania. It’s 75% research and 25% intuition and her intuition has served us very well.

We seemed to get into the last room available (regularly) and the hotel Sokratis was another little gem. We parked up outside and Liz went in to investigate while I unloaded the bags. When I rolled up Liz was in animated discussion with the owner, the redoubtable Theodora. This lively, animated and friendly lady could not do too much to help you, had plenty of opinions and was effusive and basically all over you. And this was the impression after 2 mins. She had obviously asked Liz where her husband was and continuing her theme of the day Liz said that basically I was faffing about outside and buzzing around like a fly. She also mentioned that unlike most families I take more time in the bathroom than her (surely that’s normal?). Theodora was hugely amused by this and of course when I walked in said is this “The Fly”. Many guffaws all round.

Theodora advised us of which beach to head to and off we trundled. About a 15 minute walk but it was worth it. Relatively small area of umbrellas. Nothing to pay for them just buy a drink or snack from the local bar/cafe. Sandy beach. We settled straight in. Nothing much to report we just took it easy, had a toasted sandwich and ice cream, lazed, swam and read.

One slightly embarrassing moment was when I went looking for the loo. Direction at the cafe was its behind to the right. I missed the little outhouse and headed towards the apartments at the back where people seemed to be milling about in loo waiting style. Marched through a likely door only to hear the melodic tones of my countrymen as this lady shrieked something like “Oi Dave some bloke just walked into our room”. Turns out they were apartments though no number on the door. “Dave” was sitting outside at some tables and gave me a quizzical look. I apologised and said I was looking for the loo which he directed me towards. He seemed amused by the whole saga. I scurried off.

Stayed on the beach to around 7.00. Temperature about 30 so very easy. Then headed for home. Theodora had recommended some restaurants - 1 for fish the other for Gyros/souvlaki. We went for the fish. Got there around 8.30 and snagged a nice table at the front of the restaurant in the open air. We were close to the water though a small car park/road (with very few cars) in front of us with water behind. Just off the main drag so tranquil and pleasant. We each had a Dorada which was well cooked and tasty.

A walk around the centre of town post that and a very ornate church there which looked middle eastern almost mosque like in style but closed of course at that time. Town was fair rocking with plenty of cafes, restaurants and bars with outside areas close to the water so quite atmospheric. We were glad we were in the quiet end for dinner but Liz has pulled it off again a nice blend of calm and a bit of action.

Breakfast at the Hotel Sokratis the next day was a copious affair. Stronger on the sweet than the savoury. Plenty there. Theodora was floating around and halfway through our breakfast she brought us a local delicacy a filo pastry filled with custard a bit like a vanilla slice. We are not huge eaters at the best of times and a re-calibration of selections was necessary to fit the latest offering in so as not to cause offence. It turned out to be no great hardship, though we did waddle away fairly full.

Liz headed for the beach straight after breakfast though did get a quick briefing from Theodora on other spots to visit in the Halkidiki region. I followed on and we returned to the same spot as the day before for another relaxed day of reading, blogging, swimming, eating and snoozing. It was manageable. I was hoping not to bump into Dave and family from the previous day (“not that geezer again”) which I think I did late in the day but I looked the other way and so did they. We headed home around 6.00. Liz stayed an extra half an hour while I cleared the shower (only just enough time).

We had managed to find a small bottle of vodka at the local supermarket so we sat on our balcony with Liz downing a vodka and tonic and me on a local ale. Very relaxed. No big plans for dinner as in where to go. Rain was threatening and there had been a few drops. We had enjoyed the previous night’s restaurant so headed for that. With rain threatening even a thunderstorm and plenty of black clouds around there were no uncovered outside tables set up. There was a quasi outside area with roof only where all tables were full or you had to eat inside. We didn’t want to sit inside and they wouldn’t let us risk outside even though we said we would cart our food in if it rained. They were nervous that others would want to do the same which could be a schmozzle of people and waiters ferrying food and drinks if it belted down. Chances were it would. They were not very proactive in terms of options but we said we would wait for a table to free up in the semi outside area and after about 15 mins one did. We just shared some grilled sardines with a Greek salad and bread. Not shoot the lights out stuff but did the job. They don’t spare the onions in the salad in this neck of the woods and a little less marinated than elsewhere which is not ideal. Liz won’t really touch a raw or near raw onion so I came to the party and duly reeked as I was advised thereafter. Another difference is they are using white not red onions so a bit harsher.

Again went for a little stroll around town, a bit quieter tonight as cooler. Headed for home after Liz had vainly tried to buy a new beach cap. Hers has had its ten year anniversary. Not an easy task to find one that works for her little head. Opposite to mine possibly in every sense.

Next morning it was time to move on from Nea Moudania. There was more peninsula to discover. After another hearty breakfast this time augmented by another Theodora specialty cake. This time a sort of chocolate cake. It did not seem to involve much sponge though Liz advises there was a base of it. Above that was chocolate mousse and on top of that about 2 cms (looked like 3) of whipped cream. My heart sank about the only thing that I found appetising about that was the sponge which was thin on. Cream and my digestive system are not a happy partnership. Liz had to pull her weight for two of us. She did admirably but was defeated about half way through.

I was beginning to understand why the sweet section of breakfast was more extensive than the savoury one. Clearly Theodora had a sweet tooth though the spanakopita was excellent, flaky and very tasty and she said was her favourite. Time for us to move on and Liz bade farewell to Theodora which apparently involved a big hug to her ample bosom. I did not know this at the time but as I separately went to say my farewells and thanks I stuck my hand out and was on the end of a Lathamesque fist pump (preferable). Apparently Theodora gave some last pieces of advice to Liz on destinations but finalised with “after a couple of days, if it’s not working you can come home” ie to the Sokratis as she had rooms coming free. It felt a bit like home too. She had set a new benchmark.

[triggeringthehealing]

Tangled In Knots, pt2

Derek/Stiles (Teen Wolf) | PG-13 | ~2k | AO3 canon-compliant (ish), full shift werewolves, references to knotting

Summary: He’s right under the nose of the FBI, even though he knows he’s on their target list. But it’s not the first time he hid right under the law enforcement’s noses. Last time, it was Stiles who harbored Derek’s fugitive ass. He’s really not expecting it to be the case here, no matter how close to Quantico he is. He also has other issues to worry about, and that’s when he spots a flyer that promises information on the problem he’s had ever since the time he saved his own life by shifting into a wolf. Derek really should rethink his position on coincidences.

A/N: More @wipweek goodness, this time Newest WiP. (There’s more to this, but for now, have this update.) 

It takes three more weekends before Stiles gets curious again. Or, as Derek suspects, before he dares asking out loud what he’s been wondering for the past month.

“So, I still don’t really understand something,” Stiles says as they’re tidying up after the knitting session is over.

To Derek’s and Stiles’s surprise, it’s been fun to be there, to learn the craft and to spend time with not only Stiles but also the ladies who never missed a meeting. They have taken to bringing baked goods—apparently, both he and Stiles look like they’re not all that good at taking care of themselves, according to all of the ladies—and have patiently helped out Derek whenever he struggled if Stiles couldn’t help. He’s almost halfway through the scarf that he started§ and while there are several spots where he obviously dropped a stitch or made a mistake, he’s pretty proud of himself.

So when Stiles’s curiosity shows, Derek can’t help but worry. He doesn’t want anything to throw off the precarious peace that the knitting and the company give him. Since Stiles didn’t ask a question yet, Derek just raises an eyebrow to prompt him to continue, but he’s internally starting to panic a little.

“This,” Stiles says with a wave at the baskets, “doesn’t seem like it’s really your thing. How come you showed up that first time?”

And there it is, the perfect prompt for the excuses that Derek’s been thinking up over the weeks. But Stiles’s face is so genuinely curious that he can’t help but think of the mistake he made, which makes his whole face heat up.

“Okay, what?” Stiles immediately asks, because of course he wouldn’t miss the blush in Derek’s face. “Is this like, some sort of weird werewolf thing? Is knitting a kink or something?”

“What? No! How would you even… no,” Derek says a little too quickly.

“Then why do you look like I just rummaged through your online browsing history or discovered your secret journal?” Stiles asks, and he’s very clearly amused by the way Derek is flustered.

The plan was to tell Stiles that crafts were something that he used to do as a kid with his grandparents and that the memories were the reason why he showed up. Or to say that it was an attempt to distract himself from the memories that weren’t so pleasant. Or—and he wouldn’t have really been lying about that one—that it was something that a therapist recommended once upon a time. Sure, any of those would have invited questions, but Derek had contingency plans and backup stories at the ready in case Stiles decided to dig deeper.

Instead, his cheeks heat up more and he can’t stop himself from turning his gaze to the floor. He knows he looks guilty as sin and that it’s the perfect prompt for Stiles to not only keep prodding but also to come up with all different possible answers until Derek gives him one.

“Dude, seriously, it can’t be that bad,” Stiles says, and Derek looks up to see his amused face. “I mean, you did say no to the fetish thing, so….”

Stiles’s voice fades out and he lets the words hang in the air as an opening for Derek to tell him the truth.

Only, Derek hasn’t talked to anyone about his predicament which he still has no answers for, no matter how much he researched. And Stiles’s mention of browsing history hit a little too close to home, because if he did somehow manage to see Derek’s… well, Derek doesn’t want to even think about it. But now he can’t use any of the excuses he came up with, because none of them warrant the level of blushing the heat of which he still feels in his face. And Stiles isn’t stupid.

As he tries to scramble for an explanation, Stiles’s face shifts from amused and curious to pensive and confused. A moment later, Derek sees a flash of panic and then Stiles’s eyes are wide open and his cheeks turn a little darker.

“Derek? Where did you see the poster for the meeting?”

“Out by the gas station, the one about two miles out,” he says, confused by Stiles’s question.

“Oh shit,” Stiles blurts, and his cheeks get redder. “Oh. Right. Okay.”

“Stiles?”

Derek can hear Stiles’s heart hammering in his chest, and he smells a hint of embarrassment coming off of Stiles.

“Right, so,” Stiles starts. “When I typed these and had a friend make copies, I didn’t realize that there was a typo on them. And I replaced all the ones that I put up, but Dan put the one up that you saw and I didn’t know until after the meeting.”

“Right,” Derek’s voice comes out flat, as the realization starts hitting that Stiles is coming closer to getting the answer that Derek doesn’t really want to give him.

“So, you saw the poster that wasn’t properly corrected to knitting,” Stiles barges on, and Derek tries to brace himself for the moment when it all clicks. “You saw the one with the mistake. And you still showed up. Because… you’re into… some sort of hobby that involves knots?”

His voice is betraying his confusion like his mind is trying to come up with an explanation other than the obvious one.

“Dude, help me out here,” Stiles says when Derek doesn’t react. “I mean, there is more than one thing that this could be about and both of them are… well, you know I don’t do judgment. I just… is it wolf related or kink related?”

“Wolf,” Derek mumbles, and his cheeks keep feeling like they’re on fire.

Only now he also has thoughts of the other option that “knotting” could be about and well, his mind is running away with them and wondering whether they’re something that is on Stiles’s mind. Or maybe in his list of interests.

“Oh. Ooooooh,” Stiles drawls out, and Derek can hear and smell the combination of surprise, curiosity, and a hint of interest. “Is it the full shift thing?”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “I mean, it’s not like it’s… I didn’t know it was a possibility until that night in Mexico.”

“And has it…” Stiles starts, then pauses, then takes a deep breath. His fingers start plucking on a strand of yarn from the basket on the table in front of him like he needs to distract himself. “I mean, Braeden knows you’re a werewolf, so….”

Derek shakes his head, though he’s not sure what exactly it’s a reaction to. When Stiles looks at him with a confused expression, Derek takes a breath and tries to find the words to explain.

“I mean, yeah, obviously she knows I am,” he says. “But we haven’t… I mean, after Mexico, we were only together for a few months and most of those were spent trying to track down Malia’s mother and avoiding getting caught. So we haven’t really…. She doesn’t know that.”

“Oh,” Stiles says.

It’s almost like he’s relieved and Derek doesn’t understand why he would be, but he’s not about to ask. The fact that he can scent emotions is still odd for anyone in the pack, whether human or wolf. He gets it, it’s invasive at best, and uncomfortable to be aware that someone else knows things that are so private.

Normally, Derek only pays attention to the chemosignals when it’s absolutely necessary—in a fight, when trying to track someone—and not during regular conversation. But now, now he’s intrigued.

“So, you thought that there would be a meeting about this predicament that you’re in,” Stiles starts, and his face clearly shows how likely he thinks that would be. “In plain sight, like it’s no big deal.”

“There’s a pack in town and they get visitors a lot, because of where we are,” Derek explains. “And I wasn’t going to just march in and start asking questions. That’s why I was….”

He nods towards the window that’s looking out at the street where Stiles found him that first time.

“Ah yeah, lurking,” Stiles says, smirking. “It’s kind of reassuring to see that some habits haven’t left you.”

Derek frowns at him but doesn’t say anything.

“Right, so, obviously that plan didn’t work out since we’re definitely not that kind of meeting,” Stiles starts rambling again. “And I’m guessing that you haven’t found another source of information yet.”

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I’m not that close to the pack here and I don’t want to make things awkward. They don’t even know I can shift fully. No one but those who were in Mexico knows that. And Cora.”

Stiles nods. Derek knows that he doesn’t need to point out that he couldn’t ask anyone in Scott’s pack about what’s happening to his body. The only ones who might know would be either Deaton—who hasn’t earned Derek’s trust—and Peter, who’s about the last person on Earth whom Derek would consider going to.

“Right. So, we should probably move this conversation somewhere a little more private,” Stiles says, glancing towards the back of the house. “If there’s a pack in town, I’m sure there are people who know, but I’m not really keen on finding out and losing this prime location due to Abby’s fear that I’m bringing in a LARPing group here next time.”

Derek nods in agreement—he’s seen the owner of the bed and breakfast, and he knows that she’s very much human—and follows Stiles outside, hands full with knitting baskets. Stiles loads them up into Roscoe. Then he turns and leans against it.

“Did you drive here today? Or can we just jump into my baby—“ he pats the baby blue metal “—and head over to my place?”

“Where is your place?” Derek asks.

It dawns on him that since Stiles is an intern-slash-trainee for the FBI, it might not be the best place to head to. Not when Derek still is likely on their wanted list.

“Here in town, actually,” Stiles says, then chuckles as Derek breathes out in relief. “During the week, I’m usually in Quantico in the dorms, but Olive—“ he refers to one of the ladies from the knitting meeting “—has graciously allowed me to stay in her guest room for the weekends. I think it’s so she can feed me some more,” he finishes with a smile.

“I’m not sure if cookies count as food,” Derek says, remembering the usual offerings from the meetings.

“Oh no, she makes a mean lasagna and there have been these delicious meatballs she made last week,” Stiles says and he looks like he’s getting lost in the memory of said meals. Then he shakes his head a bit and looks back at Derek. “Right, let’s grab the rest of the stuff and head to mine. I’m sure once she gets wind of you being over, there will be an extra portion set aside for you.”

Derek shrugs, follows Stiles back inside the house and grabs a few of the baskets, ignoring Stiles’s muttered “show-off”. When the room is cleared, the supplies all loaded into Roscoe, and the chairs back to their pre-meeting positions, they head out. Stiles glances around the street for cars, then looks at Derek with narrowed eyes.

“Seriously, did you run here?”

“Only from the store,” Derek says, nodding towards the end of the street. “Didn’t want to block the driveway like last week.”

“Served you right for parking right in front of Alice’s truck,” Stiles says, grinning. “That woman drives like a maniac.”

Derek lifts an eyebrow, smiling.

“Hey,” Stiles immediately protests. “Roscoe doesn’t manage those speeds and I wouldn’t try to cut off everything that’s on the road. She did that with an ambulance a few weeks ago, claiming that she was in more of a rush.”

Derek continues looking at Stiles without a word.

“It had the lights flashing!”

“Because your Dad never had them going on the cruiser,” Derek says, chuckling at Stiles’s outraged expression.

“I did not!”

Derek raises his hands, palms out, in surrender. Then he looks towards the Jeep.

“Okay, want me to follow you, or will you drop me back to my car later?”

Stiles shakes his head. Then he starts towards Roscoe and looks over his shoulder back at Derek.

“I’ll bring you back. It’s only a block away from the store anyway,” he says, and Derek nods as he follows him to the Jeep.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Mages Guild Recommendation Quests in Oblivion, Ranked from Most Sensible to Least.

1) Leyawiin Recommendation: FIND THE GUILD LEADER’S MISSING SEER STONE: Help a seer get the only thing keeping her visions at bay back. The stone was stolen from a ableist asshole that thought she was “too insane” to guide them properly, and was planning to discredit her and take her place as Guild Leader. We get to kill the fucker, which is the reason why this is on spot 1 rather than spot 2.

2) Bravil Recommendation: FIND A FELLOW WIZARD’S MISSING STAFF: A incel stole the mage’s staff of one of the local female wizards because she wasn’t giving him the time of the day, then sold him to a friend in freaking Imperial City, the Local Guild Leader, a argonian woman who really looks out for her girls, asks you to get it back, but do it in the down low, since she doesn’t want the girl to face repercussion for losing her staff. We don’t get to kill the Incel, which is the reason why this is on spot 2 rather than spot 1.

3) Anvil Recommendation: HELP SOLVE A STRING OF MURDERS: Meet a battlemage agent in the on the Gold Road to Kvatch and help her discover and kill a rogue mage preying on the merchants traveling from Anvil to Kvatch (Ironically, the rogue mage will notice how there haven’t been as much and as loaded as usual lately). This is on spot 3 for the simple fact that, while the guild leader acts professional enough and you are doing a public service, you are still forced to act as Bait for the mission.

4) Skingrad Recommendation: FIND A MISSING GUILD MEMBER: You are tasked to find a member that has gone missing for a while, and some members of the guild have started getting worried. This is so low on the list for a number of reason. First of, the reason why the member was missing is because the Guild Leader had sent him off to a local dungeon to train, not caring that it was filled with undeads, where he stayed trapped for weeks. Second, the mission isn’t to find it for his safety, but because the guild leader needs to check on his research, and third, this is a blatant case of you doing a favor to the Guild Leader by helping on a personal matter tied to her career, for had news come out that a apprentice had died after following her orders, her reputation would have taken a serious hit, as it is shown by next point.

5) Bruma Recommendation: FIND (ANOTHER) MISSING GUILD MEMBER: You are tasked to find a member that has gone missing for a while. The local The Khajiit, who we will call George, disappeared one day without a trace, and “no one” knows what happened to him. The Guild Leader, who happens to be a massive hack who has reached her station in the guild trough favoritism and nepotism, tasks you to find him, for a missing member right in the middle of a inspection by the arcane university itself, might look bad on her. The Khajiit was actually invisible the whole time and was pulling a prank on the Guild Leader alongside his mer friend, that we will call Fred. You befriend them and help pull a another prank on the Guild Leader, and only then George reappears and you get your recommendation. While deeply amusing, this is frankly not the best way to test the mettle of your members I say, and is all done for the profit of the guild leader and her personal reasons.

6) Chorrol Recommendation: TRICK THE RIVAL OF THE GUILD LEADER: The local guild leader tasks you with finding out what his rival is planning. The Rival will then task you with retrieving a powerful spell tome called “fingers of the mountain,” and the local guild leader will order you to not give it to her and bring it to him instead. If you bring the book to the rival, 24 years later she will teach you a powerful custom shock spell based on your level, before giving you the book back to give to the guild leader, while if you give it to the guild leader, he will give you your recommendation without a spell, forcing you to steal the book later for the rival if you want to get the spell. This is basically being used as a pawn for internal squabbles between members of the guild.

7) Cheydinhal Recommendation: RETRIEVE A LOST RING: You are tasked to Dive in the local guild’s well find order to find a magical ring a guild member “accidentally” dropped there. The ring is actually a 150 weight item, and has killed the previous associate that tried to retrieve it for the recommendation by drowning him once he reached for it in the well, and is actually a ploy by the guild leader to kill you and other potential applicants. You only survive because a Argonian Wizard was close to the previous applicant and didn’t want you to end up like him, so she helps you out. She becomes the next Guild Leader after the Guild Leader storms out after finding out she helped you, before discovering the guy was actually a sleeper agent for the Worm King. On the bottom of the list for I feel that “Go Drown Yourself” is a pretty dark and shit way to find members of the university.

[darlingpetao3]

Primrose Path (Harry Wells x Reader, Chapter 1)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When you, a lovely florist, move to Central City to open your flower shop, you had no idea you’d fall for such a complicated and dangerous man who deals in a less-than-legal business. Harrison Wells - a major player and powerhouse within the underground mafia world of the region - sweeps you off your feet as you quickly become his greatest weakness.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of War, Coarse Language, Blood and Violence, Minor Character Deaths

Tag List: @aryasnape @cursedfaechild  @jadedragon1903 @disneyoncerlover815 @child-of-winter-1215 (please check to see if your Tumblr settings are set to receive mentions from us for future tag related purposes!)

A/N: Well, here we are. After four months over our labour of love, @central-city-meta-pocalypse @letyourimaginationrun and I would like to present our baby, Primrose Path. We will each alternate in posting the chapters, kind of like how they did the Crisis on Earth X crossover - each posting a part of the whole product. For example, next week I will reblog Chapter 2 from C-C-M-P so that everyone has had a chance to read it (if you don’t already follow each of us). Please keep in mind this is an AU - Alternate Universe - so not everything will be canon. We’ve made plenty of changes to fit our story. And so, after writing +100,000 words of a story full of fluff, angst, drama, sex, heartbreak, and so much love, we are extremely happy to finally be able to share this with all of you. Thank you for being patient and without further ado, here’s Chapter 1!

Primrose Path.

Phrase: the pursuit of pleasure, especially when it is seen to bring disastrous consequences...

You had heard about Central City and their metahuman phenomenon, but seeing a person’s abilities with your own two eyes is the most amazing thing you’ve ever witnessed.

When you'd watched the reports on the news before moving here, they only ever showed the dangers of metahumans and the ones who decided to try and bring this city to its knees.

But your first encounter is nothing like that.

You almost drench your poor flower pot stationed outside your flower shop, Primrose Path, when you see your first metahuman. The man is rugged and dirty with tattered clothes. You assume he’s homeless, and offer a kind smile. He returns it, then takes notice of the begonia display drooping - a cause of the relentless summer sun. The man reaches for a petal, and instantly at the contact, the flower blooms back to life in full colour. You stand there mesmerized. It's an utterly incredible gift, the power of restoration, right there at this man's fingertips.

“My goodness, thank you, Sir-”

“-Stand back, Miss!” hollers an authoritative voice. When you turn, you see a tall, blond, and well-groomed police officer who is taking cautious steps towards the man, acting as though he's just threatened your life rather than give assistance to your flowers. His hand is readily on his gun in his holster. You start to panic.

“No, no, really officer! I’m fine, he-”

“Get inside to safety, now!” he shouts. You drop your watering can and the contents spill all across the sidewalk. There’s no reason to be afraid, but the tone of the officer’s words themselves is what’s most frightening. You heed his orders and run into your flower shop. The very second you close the door, the officer clamps a pair of rather heavy duty handcuffs on the man, who is now hanging his head, and reads him his rights.

But even though muffled behind the glass, it sounds as if this metahuman, this man who did no wrong, has none.

***

Harry ends his call, sighing heavily as he sinks back down at his desk. Papers litter the glass plane, all regarding new projects and current ones to be approved for Scientific and Technological Advanced Research Laboratories - or S.T.A.R. Labs - utilization.

Tossing his own phone aside, his hand smooths over one of the documents in front of him. He presses his lips into a thin line, anger culminating inside him from the phone call. He takes a small gadget from the corner of his desk and hurls it to the other side of the room. The device shatters when it smashes against the wall.

Frustrated, that's what he is. Annoyed, about to go ballistic - a volcano preparing to erupt and spread fiery lava at any second.

There’s a brief, firm knock at his office door.

"What?" he snaps, one hand rubbing his temple while his other hand grips the arm of his chair. The door opens and a man puts his head around it, looking a little anxious at the tone of his boss' voice.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we've just had news that one of the vacant shops has been occupied by someone no one seems to have heard of. Apparently they’re from out of town. It's only two blocks away and... Well, we thought you should know."

Harry's eyes narrow at the lower-rank man, adjusting his posture so that an elbow is propped on the armrest of his chair while his chin sits in the middle of his palm. He looks at the timid employee for a few seconds, with a dangerous storm brewing in his glare. The younger man swallows, palms sweaty as he avoids doing any sort of action to piss off the dark-haired scientist.

"I'll deal with it," Harry grumbles through gritted teeth, bitter rage still boiling within him from the previous and unsuccessful phone conversation. The blond goon senses that his boss is feeling extremely prickly at the moment and simply moves forward, placing a piece of paper with the address of the new tenant on the edge of the desk. Turning, he leaves in a hurry without any further words so as to not poke the bear.

Two blocks away? That was awfully close. Somewhere for someone new to get near to him, threaten him in his own territory.

Harry stands, walking over to the large window which overlooks the city below him. This is his city, and he'll be damned if someone tries to make a move to change that. He grabs his gun and strides through the company building, holding an antagonistic expression and glaring at anyone who dares look him in the eye.

Outside, the sun is up in the middle of the vast blue sky, signalling that it’s midday. The city bustles with noise as people chatter through the streets and birds chirp from tree to tree. If anything, the city-life only fuels Harry’s bellicose mood as the world around him seems to experience ecstasy and bliss while he has to address a current complication on his territory.

Harry continues his war-path through the populous streets, weaving through the gaps in the crowds to arrive at the now occupied property. His hand instinctively touches the cool metal of his concealed gun behind him, slender fingers at the ready to pull out the firearm if necessary.

Danger, an anomaly, or another bastard seeking to do away with his work - Harry’s prepared to show whoever the hell set foot on his property just who owns Central City.

What Harry doesn’t expect is coming face to face with… potted plants? An array of flowers that sit within tiny, terracotta pots… He blinks, reading the sign above, Primrose Path, thinking this is some sort of prank or front.

Is this really a floral shop?

Outside the quaint business sit several baskets of brightly coloured flowers, leading up to the door where beyond it, lay more and more crates of blooms all over the interior of the shop. And that's when Harry first hears your voice come from just inside the door.

"Six pink roses and a selection of white flowers to fill it out, wasn’t it? Oh, I’m sure that’ll make a wonderful display. Your mother is going to love it!"

Maybe Harry wasn’t as prepared as he thought.

The tenderness of your voice was definitely something he didn't expect. In fact, it rather takes him aback. Harry ducks and steps out of the way of the window so he wouldn’t be spotted, casting a glance at this new ‘resident’. Oddly enough though, when he catches sight of you, his fingers go limp from clutching his weapon. A weird, warm feeling courses through him as his eyes scan what they can from where he currently stands. It must be his gut warning him of something. With eyebrows knitting together, Harry figures he should go about this with caution.

He observes you with the customer, who had supposedly said something humorous because Harry hears you giggle and sees you covering your mouth. Your eyes crinkle in this adorable way that makes his stomach flip.

“Damn... she’s cute,” he mutters while hiding behind a hanging plant, peeking in through the window once more. He watches you for a few minutes, interacting with the customer and arranging a recent delivery of stock in your new premises. Your bright smile is utterly captivating and Harry finds the corner of his mouth turn up in a tiny smile as he looks at you. You couldn't be a threat, surely? No one that sweet would be trying to challenge him.

You let out another radiant laugh before Harry decides it’s time to leave. At the moment, he doesn’t consider you a risk or even a potential enemy in the future. Sometimes the property he owned was just a prime piece of real estate for someone to open a business. He has a hard time remembering that not everyone in this world has it in for him.

His hands bury into his pants pockets, still unable to wipe his smile away. He walks back to his company with the bell-like sound of your voice replaying in his head. The image of yourself has been burned into his mind.

"I'll come back and deal with this later," he whispers to himself, now registering how dry his throat had become.

He’ll deal with it... just not in the way he initially thought.

***

Ding ding!

You can’t stop the little gasp that escapes you when you see who it is walking through your door.

Since the event with the cop and the metahuman outside your shop, you’d been researching the creation and rise of the metahumans, and all of your reading seemed to culminate around the man now standing at the counter in your inconsequential little shop; one of the most famous, or maybe infamous, people in the city.

Doctor Harrison Wells.

From what you’d read, the man was a mystery, wrapped up in an enigma, wrapped up in a suit. A rather gorgeous, designer suit at that.

Several articles you’d found linked back to the War of the Americas and Harrison Wells’ name was prominently featured within them. He’d been discharged at the end of the war with a commendation and an award for bravery, though you hadn’t been able to find what it had been an award for. But now he seems to be seen more as a war-hero-turned-mad-scientist who had seen fit to turn this city upside down for his own gain as no one in Central City seemed to know what he and his team were working on in the high-rise S.T.A.R Labs building.

But despite much of this mockery and antagonism towards him, he had never been challenged to stop his work. He was a force to be reckoned with, and woe betides anyone who got in his way.

The rumours surrounding him seemed to go from the sublime to the ridiculous and you could not work out which, if any, were actually true. People said that since the war, there was a dark, underworld-type nature of most of his business that no one particularly wanted to talk about. He seemed to exude an aura of fear to the people of this city.

He apparently owned property in virtually every block, knew how to pay off the right people to get him what he needed and had a reputation of being able to… effectively deal with those who refused. The gossip all said that he dealt in the shadows, manipulating those small gangs in the criminal underworld to create the biggest empire the city had ever seen. Which, despite the mayor and elected officials, left Harrison Wells as the undisputed king of all of it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to believe any of it. A man awarded such an honour during his service surely wouldn’t then come home to terrorize his own city. He was just another businessman, trying to make his way in a corporate world and people wanted to demonize him for his success.

Which brings you to the current hitch in your breath as the rumoured secret King of Central City lays a small bundle of bright blue flowers on your counter. His dark hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, nothing like the styled pictures on the covers of magazines you’d seen. You notice his piercing blue eyes study you as you watch him. It’s hard not to be captivated by his handsome features but you force yourself to be professional again when he speaks.

“Hi there,” he says.

“H-hello,” you reply timidly. “Is this everything for you, today?”

“It is, thank you.” You ring in the bundle and tell him the cost. Harrison Wells slides a few bills across the flat surface to you, which you then place into the cash register. “Have a nice day...”

You offer your name at his hesitation and notice a slight tug in the upper corner of his mouth.

“(Y/N)... beautiful name.” You can’t hold back an uncontrollable, bright smile at his compliment. He doesn’t seem so scary. Harrison Wells turns to leave, but without his purchase.

“Uh, Sir? You forgot your flowers.”

“I didn’t forget,” the man says with a wink, leaving the shop as the door jingles when he exits. You pick up the pretty blue bundle of flowers and finally process their name.

Forget-Me-Nots.

[Chapter 2]

[welcometophu]

Missed Fortunes: Self 3

Twinned Book 2: Missed Fortunes

Self 3

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Sunday is peaceful, and Carolyn’s thankful for a little quiet. Mac leaves the house early in the morning for a taekwondo tournament. Carolyn doesn’t remember where they’re heading today. She just knows that a layer of tension seems to lift from the house once she’s gone, as no one worries about Cass and Mac butting heads again.

They haven’t been arguing constantly, but things haven’t been completely normal between them either. It’s a little like living in the cold war, and everyone’s waiting for another explosion. And while Mac has assured Carolyn that it isn’t coming, Carolyn doesn’t necessarily read the situation that way.

Although Carolyn isn’t particularly good at reading people in general, so she could be wrong. She hopes she’s wrong. Still. With Mac gone, Cass spends the day in the living room, her feet tucked under herself as she reads through a book for class. Carolyn brings her own work down to join her, and the morning passes in a haze of reading through notes and trying to collate everything in a way that gives her more points to research.

It’s tempting to simple travel over to the special collections room and come back with a book so she can work in the comfort of the house, but Carolyn doesn’t want to be that person who uses her Talent to completely get around the law. Getting into the building early is bad enough, but removing books would just be wrong. Instead, she and Cass walk over to the library after lunch so that Carolyn can work there, while Cass keeps her company. Carolyn has no idea what project Cass is working on, but it doesn’t seem to matter as they both work silently.

When they head back to the house, Cass nearly walks into Soledad as she comes out, Trish close behind.

“Hey, we’re just heading over to Teas Please to get something to eat,” Trish calls out. “Since we don’t have a formal dinner this weekend, we figured we’d do something fun tonight.”

Serina’s on shift. Carolyn knows because Serina pauses to text periodically, and sends funny stories about the things people order or the strange stories she overhears in the restaurant. But Trish and Soledad… Carolyn isn’t sure she wants to barge in on any big/little sister bonding time. She glances at Soledad, uncertain.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Soledad encourages. “We’ll make notes for ideas on what we can cook next time it’s our turn.”

“None of us are good cooks,” Carolyn points out. “That’s why we eat a lot of pasta for formal dinners.” It’s true. She remembers her freshman year, when one of the seniors was a History major, specializing in food history, and was an amazing cook. Every four weeks they’d have a great meal, something different every time.

The rest of the time, it’s usually macaroni and cheese or some other form of pasta. It’s easy to make enough for an entire house that way.

“It’s always Teas Please, isn’t it?” Cass says dryly. “But it sounds better than ordering pizza. I’m in.”

Trish glances at Cass, then at Carolyn, and shrugs. “Let’s go.”

There’s a light snow falling as they walk over, and Soledad holds out her hands, catching the flakes on her mittens. “I know you all hate it, but I still love snow. I wish it snowed more.”

“Nikita accidents aside, it’s been a mild winter,” Carolyn agrees. When they’ve had anything more than flurries, the storms have been bad, but she’s fairly certain that every single one of them was caused by Nikita.

“And they say global warming’s a lie,” Cass mutters. She pulls her phone from her pocket, swipes to look at something, then shoves it away again.

“You okay?”

Cass smiles sweetly. “I’m fine. Trish, Soledad, did you have a good weekend? I’ve been buried in reading for my modern women’s lit course. Which is actually a good class—we’ve been following female identifying authors writing any time in the last hundred years, and comparing and contrasting tropes and ideology.”

“I was actually looking at that class, but you have to be a junior or a senior to get in, I heard.” Soledad’s brow furrows. “How did you get in as a sophomore?”

“I explained that I wanted to take it early for my Psychology major,” Cass says. Her voice is lighter now, warming to the topic rather than simply being polite. “The way the class looks at how women write—and how their work is received—is more than just literature. It’s a sociological and psychological look at how we perceive and present our view differently.” She glances over, gestures at Carolyn. “You’d probably love it.”

Carolyn can’t deny that, but she also can’t think when she’d fit it in her schedule with only one year to go, and a thesis to do in that time.

“I’d hate it,” Trish says mildly. She pulls open the door as they arrive at Teas Please. “I love looking at how people think, but I hate dissecting things people wrote. I mean, I write music—I know that every writer puts meaning into their words. But I don’t think we can really know what someone else meant unless we ask them. It’s like how sometimes I write a song, and when it gets popular, everyone thinks I meant something else entirely. Readers and listeners find what they want in words, not necessarily what was put there.”

“That’s part of what we talk about, as well as how the perceptions of literature are different depending on who’s reading, and when they’re reading,” Cass says. “Which is why it’s so interesting. A teenager in the fifties would’ve read something completely different than how we read it today.”

Carolyn tunes them out as they go on, Soledad jumping in periodically. There’s a short wait at the hostess station, but Carolyn doesn’t mind as she scans the restaurant. She spots Nate in his usual section toward the back. He waves and ducks into the kitchen, and a few minutes later Serina emerges and waves cheerfully.

She carries a tray of drinks and pauses at two tables to drop them off and reassure her customers that she’ll be back momentarily for their orders. Then she approaches Carolyn, smiling happily. “Did you come to break up the monotony of my shift?” Serina asks. “I get a break soon. I could come visit you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Carolyn agrees. She’d ask the others, but the conversation has shifted to discussing some book that she’s never read, and she doesn’t want to interrupt.

Serina looks away, then reaches for menus. “Come with me. Nate’s pointing to a booth in his section, so I’m going to put you there.”

Carolyn taps Trish on the shoulder, and the other three girls trail after, still discussing. When they arrive at the booth, Carolyn waits to let Trish and Cass slide into either side, so she can manage an end seat.

Serina drops the menus on the table. “Nate’ll be over to get your order soon, and I’ll be back with water for you in just a minute when I take my break. Do you want to give me your tea order?” Serina writes down their choices quickly, grins as she taps the pad with her pencil. “Perfect, I’ll be back!”

“Writing songs,” Trish says. Carolyn isn’t sure what she’s responding to, as she apparently returns to an earlier conversation. “Or well, one song, and some music. I was working with Thorne today, because he wanted an opinion that wasn’t Rory for some reason. Plus we decided a while back that we should do some collabs, so we were working on those, too. We want to blind drop an EP of just the two of us singing songs about completely random things—totally innocuous things, like ice cream, or flowers—and see what people do with it. It goes back to that whole question of interpretation versus intention. We’ve got reputations. It’ll be interesting to see how that affects what people hear in our music.”

“Aren’t you afraid everyone will think you’re sleeping with him?” Soledad asks, and Trish brushes off the question with a wave of her hand.

“Everyone here already does. I’m pan and poly, he’s pan and poly, they figure that means we obviously had sex. Which, no.” Trish wrinkles her nose, leans on her elbows on the table. “He’s just not what I’m looking for. I don’t know what I’m looking for lately.”

Carolyn meets her gaze, and Trish looks down. Carolyn’s fairly certain that’s a lie, but she figures that Trish isn’t ready to talk about Sera to anyone else.

It’s strange being the only person who knows about something. Or probably the only person; it’s possible Trish talked to someone else. This is not normal for Carolyn.

Serina reappears with Nate right behind her. She sets down four pots of tea, nudging the correct one in front of each person, and keeping a fifth for herself. Nate pushes mugs across the table, along with silverware.

“Is it okay…?” Serina gestures to the bench next to Carolyn, and Carolyn squeezes closer to Cass to give Serina room. “Thanks,” Serina says, cradling her mug in her hands.

Carolyn smells chocolate, and there’s a thin sheen of cream on the top, as if Serina’s already licked away a mound of whipped cream. Carolyn was hungry when they started walking over, and her stomach growls at the scent. When Serina grins, Carolyn flushes. “It smells good,” she admits.

“Taste,” Serina orders, holding the mug up to Carolyn’s lips. “It’s not searingly hot; I like my cocoa a little cooled.”

It’s as rich as it smells, the consistency thicker than Carolyn’s used to. “There’s melted chocolate—”

“Blended in, yes.” Serina presses her knee against Carolyn, looks over at the others. “I totally didn’t mean to interrupt. I mean, I’m just sitting here while I’m on break. I get like fifteen minutes, but I spent a few of that making myself cocoa. And I kind of still need to eat a snack, too, unless Nate’s nice enough to bring me something.” She cranes her head, tilting back as she looks for him. “Nope, he’s busy. So don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon.” She taps her knee again Carolyn’s. “Thanks for coming to visit me.”

Cass snorts softly.

“Any time one of us decides to head to Teas Please, it turns into a party,” Trish says. She pours her tea and offers the cup to Soledad to taste, and Soledad offers her own in return. They seem to be getting along better again, and Carolyn wonders if that’s because Sera has been spending time with TJ instead of Trish.

She doesn’t wish ill on Trish’s friendship, but she’s glad to see her sisterhood isn’t faltering now.

“I got a care package from my parents,” Soledad says, leaning on the table, her voice low. “It’s four bottles of homemade wine. And I was thinking I could bring it over to the house, and we could have a wine tasting one night, with just some of the sisters. My aunt and uncle are really proud of these four batches, and I’d love to be able to share.”

“I take it your parents don’t believe in the drinking age?” Cass asks, fingernails tapping against the wood of the table.

“Are you going to tell?” Trish asks just as quickly, and Cass pulls back, affronted.

“No. That was conversational. Most parents don’t seem to just give their kids alcohol.”

“My aunt and uncle own a vineyard, and we all grew up tasting wine since we were little,” Soledad explains. “My father wanted to work with them for a long time, but he has a talent—not a Talent, we don’t think, but who knows—for working with computers. And he really doesn’t have any kind of a nose for wine, so my uncle encouraged him to follow his passion. But we help there when we can, and we all grew up close enough that we have their wines at home all the time. I’ve been missing it, and I asked at Christmas if I could have some so… care package.”

“Never did understand why more parents don’t teach their kids how to handle alcohol,” Trish says, her accent thickening softly. “All my friends never had a drop unless they stole a six pack from their folks, and they all thought it was this big deal to get hammered and drive around like fools. Momma said she didn’t raise her kids to drink or do drugs, but that hasn’t helped—”

“What?” Serina asks, her smile falling away when Trish looks at her.

“My older sisters Patsy’s an alcoholic, and Momma doesn’t know,” Trish says quietly. “We’re close as hell—Momma’s two bookends—but I don’t feel that need to drink. But Patsy started when she was on the road, and she’d never had it before, and next think she knew she was drinking herself under the table, no help required. She’s on the wagon now, but she says sometimes it’s hard, especially after she comes home. Momma’s got a strict no alcohol policy at home, though. Just like her strict no magic policy.” Trish turns her hand palm up, like maybe they can see the way her Talent plays across her skin.

Soledad’s brow furrows. “Trish, can I ask a weird question?”

“Sure. Might not have an answer,” Trish admits.

“Are you and your sister both named Patricia?”

It’s funny, because Carolyn’s never thought of that, and she’s been friends with Trish since freshman year. Cass laughs into her drink, and Serina’s eyes go wide.

“Whoa, really?” Serina asks. “I thought that was like this total fictional stereotype, having a family with the kids all named the same thing.”

“It’s just me an Patsy,” Trish says easily. “Patsy was already a teenager when I was born, and there’s like six other kids between me and her. She was all rebellious, and Momma asked what she had to do to get Patsy to help out around the house instead of leaving. Patsy said name the baby after her, so that’s what Momma did. Then Patsy left anyway, went out on tour without even graduating high school.”

“You don’t sound upset by that.” Soledad sounds bewildered. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because sometimes family leaves,” Cass mumbles. She pulls her phone out, looks at it, then turns it upside down on the table.

“She came back,” Trish says firmly. She reaches for Soledad’s teapot and pours herself a cup. “She was there more than not when I was twelve, and she stuck around and made sure I made it through high school without being stupid like her—her words, not mine. I was already writing songs, and I’d sent her some, and she helped me start recording. But she said I had to get my high school diploma first, and when she found out I liked engines, and that I was good at working with them, she said I should go to school for that, too. She pays my tuition now, even though I could afford it, and like I said, we’re close. She didn’t abandon me. She just needed to grow up a bit away from Momma. And I think maybe she had the right idea with that one.” She smiles ruefully. “I love my Momma, but sometimes I don’t really like her all that much.”

Nate appears at the table, sets down two baskets of crispy breadsticks and two ramekins of dipping sauces. “Serina, you’re needed in the back. Your section is filling up and people are going to want service, and I can’t do it all.”

“Gotcha.” Serina quickly downs the rest of her hot cocoa, then glances at everyone. “Anyone need a refill? Cass?” she says when Cass raises her hand. “Okay, I’ll put that in and bring out more tea shortly.”

“I’ll bring out more tea and you’ll go back to your section,” Nate repeats. “Go earn your own tips.” He stands tall until she hurries away, but as soon as she’s gone his shoulders slump. “She was excited to see you come in, but we’re too busy tonight for much social. Even for me.” He takes their orders and pockets his pencil and pad. “Carolyn, have you got a minute?”

It’s strangely formal for Nate, his usual cheerfulness held at bay. Carolyn rises, follows when he motions for her to head toward the narrow hall leading to the back where the restrooms are. “I’m not good at advice,” she says when they are out of sight. “No matter what anyone else might say. I’m really not.”

“I’m not looking to get advice,” Nate says softly. “I’m looking to give it. Anyone with eyes can see that Serina’s fallen hard, and I just don’t want to see her get hurt again. She wears her heart on her sleeve.”

Carolyn blinks. “What?”

“First she had that crush on me, and I had to let her down easy because as much as I adore her—and I do adore her—she’s just not my type.” Nate ticks points off on long fingers as he speaks. “Then there was Kit, and she was over the moon, and then suddenly they just weren’t together. And she didn’t seem all that upset, and I wasn’t sure why, but then I saw you.”

“Me?” Carolyn’s still not following.

“If you’re not interested, you need to let her know,” Nate says.

Oh.

“I don’t know if I’m interested,” Carolyn admits, just as quietly. “I mean, I think I am. But there’s—” She doesn’t want to get into all the details with Nate, and doesn’t really feel like he belongs that deeply in her psychology. “I don’t want to hurt her, either. I like Serina. A lot. And I’m comfortable with her, and when I needed someone to flee to, she’s who my subconscious chose.” She shrugs her shoulders, wraps her arms around her center before anything else slips free. “Take that as you will.”

Nate regards her for a long moment, then opens his arms and gestures for her to come closer. He wraps her up in a hug, holding on tight as he pats her back. “Don’t let her hurt you, either, Carolyn,” he murmurs. “Remember that you’re just as important as she is.”

Carolyn disengages slowly. “Weren’t you just giving me the shovel talk on her behalf?”

“You’re both my friends; I can give you both the shovel talk,” Nate says seriously. He keeps his hands on her shoulders, watching her. Carolyn isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he eventually drops his hands and steps back. “I need to get back to my shift; we really are busy.”

“Have you had any luck with your risks?” Carolyn asks. She follows him back out, doesn’t miss the way he checks her table. Heather and Nikita must have just arrived, standing nearby. Cass slides out of the bench, pushing past them roughly as she heads out. “Nate?”

“Hm?” He glances over at her, shakes his head. “Risks? Oh, you mean fighting off the dicks for purposes of valor. No, sorry, he remains gorgeous, straight, and absolutely unattainable. And to be honest, if I could stop thinking about him, I would, but sometimes there’s nothing sensible about crushes? Right. Me, I have a thing for a human stats machine. He isn’t even my usual type. But don’t worry, I’ll get over him soon enough. Summer’s a great time around here for flirting with tourists trying to get away from the city.”

“It’s still February,” Carolyn points out.

Nate pats her cheek. “Don’t lose hope; spring is coming. Let me get that order in before you all starve waiting for me.”

They part ways, and by the time Carolyn makes it back to the table, Heather and Nikita have taken over the other side of the bench, and Cass is gone. Rather than squeeze in, Carolyn grabs an empty chair from another table, and makes her own spot at the end. “What happened to Cass? She was all over her phone tonight.”

“She got a text and stormed out,” Soledad says, looking at the door as if she could still see Cass. “She was really upset about it.”

“Dax?”

Trish shakes her head. “Not Dax; we asked if he’s okay and she said she has no idea. He’s got a project he’s working on, since Chris is away helping out with that tournament today. She didn’t want to talk about it, froze us out like Cass does.”

But it’s not like Cass does, not anymore. Carolyn’s begun to think of Cass as someone closer to her, sometime who trusts her, and that she can trust in return. She pulls out her phone as Nik and Heather pore over the menu and flag down Nate to add their orders and cancel Cass’s.

You okay? She sends the text to Cass, not really expecting an answer.

They have their food by the time Cass replies, I’m as okay as I’m going to be. It’s nothing major. Just family drama again.

For a moment Carolyn wants to ask if it’s about her sister, but she doubts that would be true. Not now, not after all these years. So instead she replies, If you want to talk about it at all, I’m here.

She figures that Cass understands just how rare an offer that is for Carolyn. And just how truly she means it.

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[kitsunebi-uk]

All That We See or Seem outtakes #3: The original first kiss

Another example of me trying to run parallel to canon and feeling like it didn’t really work. I think this romantic evening they have makes for a pleasant read, but it’s lacking the emotional punch I wanted. When I was writing it, and again in the edit, the kiss felt flat, sort of anticlimactic, for me. I decided I liked their kiss the next day in the office better. And THEN I decided I liked it so much better that it ought to be the first kiss! Was this whole ‘date’ scene actually needed in the fic? No. Though to be honest, I kind of miss the mention of the transparent hovercraft over the bay at night :)

(Read the text under the break)

(Read the story on AO3 here)

Even though there was a T station at the airport, and Victor could be back at his apartment in two quick train journeys, Yuuri said he would meet him when his flight came in. He lived so close to the airport himself that it was only a short walk away; fortunately, over the years the noise and pollution from commercial planes had lessened to the point where this wasn’t the annoyance it used to be. Besides, after everything that had happened, he just wanted to see Victor.

           Yuuri waited within a small crowd of people outside of customs. It always felt strange doing this, as if they were an audience waiting for entertainers to appear onstage. Weary passengers pushing trolleys emerged in a trickle – and then there was Victor, in black slacks and a dark blue T-shirt, a plain black jacket slung over his arm, and his travel bag over his shoulder. He’d obviously packed lightly. When he spotted Yuuri, the fatigued look on his face melted away, and he beamed and strode forward.

           Yuuri hadn’t been prepared for the way his heart suddenly leaped and began thrumming. He reached out, once Victor was close enough, and enveloped him in a hug; and Victor quietly did the same. There was the hint again of cloves from what must have been his aftershave, and sweat, and Victor, that Yuuri had noticed when they’d stood together on the mountain. He breathed in and then sighed against Victor’s neck, feeling the heat of their bodies through their thin shirts.

           I love you.

           Oh…wow.

           It was completely, undeniably true, he knew. And both frightening and intoxicating.

           He wished the moment could last forever, but eventually they pulled apart. Victor’s cheeks were pink and his eyes bright.

           “Good flight?” Yuuri said, for lack of anything better. His brain seemed to have stopped functioning. With a quick check, he was relieved to find that his chip was OK at least.

           “We made good time after the delay. Well, I’m sure you realized. Thanks for coming, Yuuri. You…you didn’t need to.”

           Yuuri started walking, and Victor fell in alongside. “I just thought…after what happened, you know…it’d be nice to say hi. I’m glad Makkachin’s better.”

           “Me too,” Victor said with a little smile. “I made my dad promise to keep chocolates well out of reach from now on. After all this time, he didn’t know Makka could open the cupboard.”

           “Dogs will get into anything.”

           They fell silent; and when they arrived at the stairs that led down to the T station, Victor paused and looked at Yuuri. “I haven’t had a good meal for hours. There’s not much food in my apartment either, unless I want yogurt or a packet of cheese for dinner. I’m tired, but I’m hungrier. Would you like to join me somewhere?”

           “You want to go out to eat?”

           “Sure. And you went to all the effort just to come here and see me for a few minutes, so – ”

           “It wasn’t any effort. I got home from work a while ago and walked over.”

           “How about steak? That’s paleolithic, isn’t it?”

           “About as paleolithic as it gets,” Yuuri laughed. “And I love it. I haven’t eaten yet, either. Um…Joe’s is really good, downtown on the harbor.”

           “Sounds very American. Perfect. I could just do with getting back to my apartment and showering and changing, so why don’t I meet you there at…eight o’clock?”

           Yuuri grinned and nodded. “OK. I’ll get us a table and meet you inside.”

***

What do I do? What do I wear? How do I behave? Christ.

           Yuuri’s head was still in a whirl. He told himself that nothing had changed with Victor, apart from his awareness of the depth of his own feelings – despite what he’d promised himself about standing back and admiring. Well, he was still doing that, wasn’t he? Just admiring very much.

           And not exactly standing back, either. That was twice now that they had embraced. And when they did, in the warm stillness of the moment, he found himself wanting so much more.

           This never ended up how I was hoping it would when I was attracted to someone before. It was humiliating. But things were different now…weren’t they? He was different. Even so, he really had no clue how to negotiate these waters. They could drown him so easily.

           This is Victor. My best friend. My research partner. Not some random guy I’ve hit on. Get a grip.

           So, what to wear to Joe’s? Jeans – too casual. Work clothes – out of place. He decided on dark brown woolen pants, a red-and-black plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and brown loafers; then laid them out on his bed, had a quick shower, and put them on. The shirt was a little on the hot side right now, but according to the Friday, the temperature was already dropping outside as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

           He took the T downtown and arrived in plenty of time, having called beforehand to book a table. The interior of the restaurant was on the dim side, the walls paneled with dark wood, the seats upholstered in brown vinyl. Soft white light played from little lamps with shades ensconced along the walls, and sitting on every table. They’d given Yuuri a booth, and he slid in, plucking a menu from its stand but only giving it a cursory glance, having been here before and knowing more or less what he wanted. He didn’t usually wait this late to eat dinner, and his body was starting to protest at the fast, though at the same time the butterflies inside of him strove to chase all vestiges of appetite away.

           It’s just Victor. That’s all. If I can’t handle this now, how are we going to carry on researching together? Get a grip.

           He was beginning to think he was a poor source of rather repetitive advice. After all, he wouldn’t say such things to anybody else, and they never helped anyway.

           Passing the time by browsing scientific news sites on his chip, he looked up not long afterward to discover Victor had appeared and was slotting into the booth across from him, carrying a dark jacket which he tucked in the corner. Despite the circles under his eyes, he looked pleased to be there, and gave Yuuri a little smile.

           “If the aroma in here is anything to go by, this is going to be a fantastic meal,” he said.

           “It always is.” Yuuri watched Victor’s head droop while he read the menu. “Sure you’re up to this? You look like you could do with a good long sleep.”

           “I won’t sleep on an empty stomach. Let’s see…hm.”

           Yuuri couldn’t help but look. The gentle light setting Victor’s soft pale hair aglow. His pink lips, pressed together as he tried to make a decision. He was wearing a black cotton long-sleeved shirt with the first several buttons undone, exposing a gorgeous expanse of white throat, smooth and curved and muscular. Yuuri wondered what it would be like to kiss and taste it.

           Jesus, what’s wrong with me? I’m not a vampire. Get a –

           “Steak, baked potato and a salad – that’s what people usually order in these places, isn’t it?” Victor said brightly, putting the menu down.

           “Haven’t you been to steak houses in New York?”

           “Not very often. I’m used to getting ready meals and freezing them, or getting pizza delivered at work, that kind of thing. It’s only since I’ve been here with you that I’ve tried so many amazing new foods. Though the ones you cook yourself are the best.”

           “Flatterer,” Yuuri chuckled. He’d cooked them a grand total of one meal. Putting his own menu away, he interfaced with the screen on the wall next to him via his chip and selected his order. Steak, rare, au jus, with sweet-potato fries and a salad.

           When the food arrived, Victor laughed and commented that if Yuuri’s steak was any rarer, it would get up off his plate and walk away; then they ate in easy silence punctuated by small talk. Yuuri was curious to hear more about Russia. Victor’s father’s workshop sounded fascinating. And St. Petersburg must be beautiful this time of year. He wondered if he would ever be there to see it himself.

           After dinner, Victor asked Yuuri if he would like to take a walk along the harbor. Yuuri had refrained from suggesting anything else himself, knowing how tired Victor was, but he was happy to accede. He hadn’t brought a jacket, his shirt keeping him warm enough for a summer evening, though Victor was wearing his black jacket again with the embroidered gold dragon, which glinted under the street lights. They were on a gray-bricked path with tall old trees to the left and the water to the right, bordered only by decorative short iron posts linked to each other with a chain. The city lights glimmered yellow, orange, red and white as the breeze rippled gentle waves.

           “Is this good enough to get you to stay and finish the research with me?” Yuuri asked. “I know it’s not New York City, but…”

           Victor’s brow wrinkled as he looked at him. “I never intended to do anything else.”

           “It’s just that…well, we haven’t talked about what happened on Tuesday. How I almost fucked up the presentation, and went and called you when you were halfway across the world, worried about Makkachin. I thought…” He shrugged. “I don’t know, that it might put you off.”

           Victor huffed in surprise and was poised to reply when he spotted something a little distance down the path. “Yuuri, look – a hovercraft.” His eyes sparkled. “Let’s go for a ride.”

           “What?” Yuuri said, taken aback. “Um, well I guess the view would be pretty from up there, but I wouldn’t know. Those things are expensive to go on.”

           “It’ll be fun. I’ll pay.”

           “I don’t – ”

           “Come on, Yuuri,” Victor said with a smile, taking his hand and then starting to run. Laughing, Yuuri dashed behind him, still holding his hand. Yuuri had never been on a hovercraft before, and discovered it was completely chip-controlled. There was a sign with instructions; Victor paid for twenty minutes, and they both climbed through a hatch into the vehicle, which at the moment was transparent, though Yuuri knew it could tint to whatever opacity you required, like office windows. It was saucer-shaped with a dome, reminiscent of a water ride at an amusement park, made to seat perhaps six people around its circumference, though no one else was around to join them. The hatch closed, and the hovercraft lifted vertically out of the water with a quiet humming noise. Yuuri could see through the seats, through the floor, and all around, almost as if they were floating, surrounded by nothing but empty air.

           “Wow,” he enthused, squirming around to take in the whole of the view. “Where is this thing taking us?”

           “I picked a route that goes a little distance over the harbor and back,” Victor answered, tilting his head up and looking at the sky, then at the buildings and twinkling lights and shimmering waters they’d quickly left behind at what Yuuri reckoned must be about half a kilometer below, just higher than the tallest building.

           They sat next to each other, quiet for the most part as they briefly flew further out to sea, over several islands, and then back the way they had come. Yuuri decided he had rarely experienced anything so peaceful; though his proximity to Victor was making it impossible to completely relax. His pulse was racing again. The only light in the hovercraft was what entered from the city lights, limning them both in silver shadows, though their faces caught the warm glow of the lights as they drifted at a leisurely pace back to the harbor and the pier.

           “Yuuri…” Victor said, looking at him earnestly, “about what you were saying before…How could you think I’d be put off by a phone call?”

           Yuuri blinked. “Um, well it felt like I was intruding. I didn’t want to – ”

           “How could you ever think that?”

           Yuuri paused again, unsure of what to say, surprised at the feeling in Victor’s words. “I told you I was going to do the presentation by myself. That I was confident and prepared. But I got anxious, and then my chip blew – ”

           “That wasn’t your fault.”

           It kind of was. “Still…I just wanted to do better. It felt like I was letting you down.”

           Victor shook his head slightly, looking as if he couldn’t believe what Yuuri was saying. “Then you might be surprised to hear that I didn’t feel that way at all. Not for a moment.” He smiled, and Yuuri couldn’t look away from those eyes, so blue even in the shadows. “I was surprised when you volunteered to do the presentation on your own in the first place, because you’ve said how much it bothers you. And then, even when you were so upset on Tuesday, and your chip and tablet were both damaged…I wanted to help, Yuuri, I really did. But in the end I thought the best solution might be to cancel the presentation. There wouldn’t have been any harm done. You found the strength somewhere inside of you to do it, though.” His eyes were shining, and he added quietly, “It must have been good, too. Doctor Zhou called me and told me how impressed he was with our research, and how much he enjoyed attending the presentation.” At Yuuri’s gasp of surprise, his smile grew wider. “I think you did better than a lot of people would in that situation, Yuuri.”

           Yuuri just huffed in amazement, then returned his smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pier approaching; the ride was almost at an end. He tilted his head to watch; and when he turned it back to look at Victor, a jolt of shock raced through him as he was quickly and tightly embraced. He barely had time to notice how Victor closed his eyes and parted his lips before Yuuri felt them pressing firmly against his own. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around Victor, though his eyes remained wide open in stunned silence; and then the moment passed, the hovercraft splashed lightly into the water, and Victor drew back so that their gazes met.

           “That was the only way I could think of to show you how much you impressed me,” he murmured.

           It took Yuuri a moment to find his voice. They still had their arms around each other. “Really?” he said quietly.

           A polite knock on the hatch of the hovercraft brought Yuuri’s attention to the fact that other people were waiting for them to untangle so that they could have a ride. He and Victor both gave a soft laugh and stood up, the hatch opening for them.

           “Your bag?” Victor said, holding it up as Yuuri began to step out.

           “Oh…yeah. Thanks,” he said with a sheepish grin, taking it and shrugging the strap over his shoulder. Victor hadn’t been carrying anything, but Yuuri had a habit of taking certain possessions with him wherever he went.

           They stood and faced each other, Yuuri fingering the strap, struggling to form a coherent thought or decide what he should do. Fortunately, Victor seemed to sense his confusion.

           “I’d better get back to my apartment; I can barely keep my eyes open.” He laughed softly. “But I’ll be at MIT in the morning. I wish I didn’t have to go to New York this weekend, but well, two weekends in a row…”

           “I understand,” Yuuri said, though he didn’t, because he didn’t know what Victor did there. “Thank you,” he said fervently, grasping for words.

           “Walk with me to the T station?”

           Yuuri nodded, and they strode next to each other over the short distance. When they arrived, they each needed to board from separate platforms.

           Victor’s hand gripped Yuuri’s briefly, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yuuri.”

           “Good night, Victor.” Their eyes held for a moment longer while they exchanged grins, and then they parted.

           There was a train already waiting on Yuuri’s platform, but he let it go, feeling dizzy.

           He kissed me.

           Victor Nikiforov kissed me.

           Suddenly he rummaged in his carryall and pulled out the biochem monitor, switching it on and waiting for it to take a reading. Adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, testosterone, endorphins, all high. Pulse rate 46.8% above average.

His heart gave a leap, and he laughed and did a little twirl.

***

Yuuri had a class to teach the next day, but for once his mind wasn’t on it as he jogged to work. By the time he was downtown, he realized he didn’t even remember crossing the bridge over the harbor to get there.

           The fact that Victor had kissed him put paid to his fears that Victor did not want a romantic relationship with him. That in itself had kept Yuuri in a drunken stew of endorphins and happy hormones since the previous night. It felt like his feet were hardly touching the ground as he flew over the sidewalk.

           When he thought back on what had happened afterward, however, he suspected he hadn’t made his feelings very clear. He’d been too surprised to do anything decisive at the time, and then almost before he knew it they’d said goodbye at the station. Had Victor been wondering all this time whether he’d made a mistake; that Yuuri hadn’t liked what he’d done? He had to show him that wasn’t the case at all.

           He felt a conflict inside of him, however – because of course I can’t let anything good happen to me without trying to make a mess of it, he thought to himself – in the sense that part of him had been longing to be in this situation, while the other part was worried that it would be Victor who’d decide he had made a mistake, when he found out how anxious and inexperienced Yuuri really was. He’d never been in a romantic relationship and knew he would be questioning everything he did. It might even feel like that first day in Boston with Victor all over again, wondering if he was doing and saying the right things; telling himself Victor was out of his league.

           Fucking hell. I am my own worst enemy.

           Victor had initiated this. Yuuri was going to continue it, and he was going to be brave enough to face the uncertainties, taking each one as it came. As long as Victor was willing to be patient with him. Uncertainties could be unsettling…but not impossible to negotiate. Every day was full of them, after all.

           As he passed through the front door of Building 46 and into the atrium, however, there was a sick flutter in his stomach. How did one go about kissing someone – making that moment happen, rather than waiting for some perfect romantic opportunity? Without it being awkward or embarrassing? A smooth operator would know just how to touch, and what to say, in the right tone of voice. But if Yuuri had known how to do any of those things, he might have tried kissing Victor himself long before now.

           What if Victor was sitting at his desk when Yuuri walked in? Should he walk over there, bend down, and kiss him? No. Too weird. He needed him standing. So while he waited for him to stand, should he just say he really liked the kiss last night, and put him at his ease? No, that wouldn’t work at all.

           Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

           Well he winged his presentation, didn’t he? He could wing this. He could.

           His hand was shaking when the Friday clicked the office door and he pulled it open.

           No Victor.

           He took a deep breath, draped his suit coat over his chair, and went to make himself a cup of tea. He ought to be thinking about the work they were planning in the lab for that day, anyway. That would be the professional thing to do.

           The water was boiled, and he’d just dropped a peppermint teabag into his mug, when he heard the door open and close behind him. He swallowed as a wave of trepidation swept through him. Could it be Phichit? No, he’d bound straight over to his desk and say a cheerful hello. This person was quiet, more deliberating, as they hung their coat on the hook and paced softly across the room. Victor.

           Yuuri smelled his aftershave before he actually saw him. Then he was standing next to him at the little counter, wearing a plain white button-down shirt like Yuuri’s. “Good morning,” came his gentle voice. “I don’t suppose I could have a cup of coffee? My body doesn’t know whether it’s in Boston or St. Petersburg, which means it probably thinks it’s somewhere in the middle, like Iceland.”

           “Sure.” Yuuri poured water into the machine. Victor placed a palm on the counter, centimeters away from Yuuri’s hand. He was standing very close. Yuuri could hear his breaths.

           “How are you?” Victor asked him. Those eyes were on him; he could feel it.

           “I…I’m good,” he said, his voice hitching.

           “Yuuri – ”

           “Victor,” Yuuri whispered, turning and gripping his shoulder, quickly eliminating the remaining space between them as he tilted his head up and captured his lips. They were soft and pliant, unlike the quick hard kiss of the night before. Then Victor was wrapping his arms around him, one hand moving up and down his back in a slow caress. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was trying to do the right things with his mouth, dredging up memories of brief half-drunk fumbles in bars, but he followed Victor’s lead, feeling like he could float away while at the same time a delicious warmth radiated through his body. He stroked Victor’s cheek with his palm, then with the outside of his fingers. There was a small puff of air on his skin as Victor breathed out through his nose. Then he caught Yuuri’s upper lip, lingering briefly before pulling back.

           “I wonder what your biochem monitor would be showing right now,” he said with a little laugh.

           “I’m going to find out. Seriously. Just, um, wait here a minute.” Yuuri dashed over to his carryall on the floor next to his desk, found the monitor, and brought it back over to the counter, where Victor was giving him an indulgent smile. His cheeks were the most beautiful rosy pink.      

           “Well?” Victor asked with a raised eyebrow.

           Yuuri laughed as he looked at the readout. “Heart rate 32.6% above baseline. The rest…” He lowered his voice, raising his eyes back to Victor’s. “…thoroughly indecent.”

           “Hm. Let’s see if we can’t improve that,” he said, tilting Yuuri’s chin up delicately with the tips of his fingers. Yuuri was practically quivering with anticipation. He put the monitor down on the counter, forgotten, as Victor’s lips found his own, light and teasingly exploratory at first, then more insistent. Yuuri edged closer, until he could feel the hard muscle and bone under Victor’s shirt, and then they were embracing again. Yuuri reached up to trail his fingers through the fine silky strands at the back of Victor’s head – how he’d ached to do this, for so long. Victor swiped Yuuri’s lower lip gently with the tip of his tongue, and Yuuri instinctively deepened the kiss to give him access.

           This was so, so different from Dominic and his tonsil hockey at the club. It was…melting, drowning in red heat. He felt a moan escape his throat, and heard a similar noise in response from Victor. Where were they? He couldn’t even remember.

           The snicking sound of the door opening caused them both to start and then jerk back. Yuuri just stood there looking stupidly at Victor as Phichit entered the office and headed to his desk. He smiled knowingly over at them both.

           “I’m not, um, interrupting anything, am I?”

           They both said a hasty “no” at the same time, Yuuri picking up the biochem monitor and going to sit down in his chair, while Victor poured himself some coffee.

           “I just came in to get a couple of things from the drawer here,” Phichit said, opening it and grabbing some metal components.

           “Don’t leave on my account,” Victor said politely. “If you need to use your desk – ”

           “No, it’s fine.” Phichit gave them each another smile, waggling his eyebrows at Yuuri while he had his back turned to Victor. “I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing.” Then he disappeared out the door.

           Yuuri took another reading from the biochem monitor. “Heart rate 47.7% above baseline,” he said, huffing a laugh.

           “I bet mine’s higher,” Victor said in a low voice, giving him a hooded gaze. He put Yuuri’s mug of tea on the corner of his desk for him, then sat down with his cup of coffee. “We could aim to keep breaking our records.”

           Yuuri let out a breath, feeling a flush of heat to his face, and Victor chuckled.

           “But we do have a lot of work to do, too.”

           “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed with a sigh. Though god knows how I’m ever going to be able to concentrate on it.

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

A Mistake

Request: Hi I was wondering if I could have a Spock request where I tell him about my feelings towards him but he says he does't feel anything towards me which is a lie because he wants to keep me safe so I avoid him to save the heartbreak. Soon he find out that I died on a mission and breaks down until they realise I haven't died and confesses his feelings.. sweet fluff and angst would be wonderful... thankyou <3 - @sammat97

You pulled your face away from your microscope to record your findings. Your attention drifted away from your research and up to Spock standing across the room, reviewing some data. He stood perfectly still, completely focused. When he turned around you went back to your work, removing the slide and pretending you hadn’t been watching him.

It wasn’t until he started walking towards the door that you spoke up, “Spock, do you have any plans for this evening?”

“I don’t.”

“Well, in that case,” you put in a new slide. “Would you like get a drink with me?” You hesitated a second, and then clarified, “On a date.”

“I don’t believe that would be a good idea.”

“Oh.”

“It would be inappropriate, as I am your boss.”

You nodded a little too quickly. “I understand.”

He nodded like he was saying “good” and left, leaving you to wallow in the aftermath of the conversation.

-

“Tell me again how you hit your head?” Bones said, shining a light in your eyes.

“There’s only so many times you can laugh.”

“I’m pretty sure this is an endless source of amusement.” He swapped the light for a tricorder. “I just don’t understand what the cactus was for.”

“If you don’t already know, then I can’t tell you,” you smirked.

He shook his head. “I’m sure Chekov had it coming, but, come on, he’s just a kid.”

“He knew what he was getting into.”

“I’m a little scared to see how you get even when you’re not stuck in space.”

“Let’s hope you never find out,” you smiled.

“Are you warning me to stay on your good side?” As he stepped off to the side, you saw Spock walking through the sickbay doors and your face fell.

“I should be going.” You dropped down from the exam table.

“We’re in the middle of an exam.”

“And now we’re at the end of one.” You patted his arm. “If I vomit I’ll come back.”

“You better,” he called after you as you darted from the room.

-

“Hey.” You barely glanced up from your station as Phillips passed by. You held up a PADD as he came to a halt. “Could you take this to the Commander for me? It’s the report for yesterday’s mission.”

“You want me to take that to him?” His tone made you look up.

“Yes. I’m busy. You don’t seem to be.” You turned back to your work. “It’s called teamwork, Phillips.”

“I know what teamwork is.” He took the PADD from you and folded it under his arm. “It’s just weird that you’re passing up a chance to see your precious Spock.”

“I have a lot to do. If you’re planning on making fun of me for my feelings, could you hold off until my shifts over? Or at least give me back the report so I can take it to him?” Without looking up at him again, you held your hand out.

“No, no, I’ll take it.” As he left the lab, you heard him add, “Someone’s testy today” under his breath.

-

Readjusting in your seat, you switch your PADD from your right hand to your left. Your peaceful reading was interrupted every couple minutes by Bones grumbling and scoffing from the other side of the table.

“If it upsets you that much, stop reading it,” you suggested, scrolling down the story displayed on your screen.

“It’s a classic.” He fell silent again. But it was short lived.

“Leonard,” you said interrupting his string of complaints. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to grouch about the inaccuracy of a book written in 1818 by an 18 year old. If you want accuracy, read a medical journal.”

“1816.”

You looked at him over your PADD. “What?”

“Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein in 1816. It was published in 1818.”

“My point still stands.” You returned your attention to your story.

“It’s a classic,” he said again, only this time he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself that that was a good enough reason to continue reading.

You glanced back up at him, shaking your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Spock talking to Scotty a few tables away.

“I should get to work,” you muttered, switching your screen off.

“What?” Bones looked up at you. “Your shift doesn’t start for another hour.”

“Uh.” You hesitated on your way to getting to your feet. “Early bird gets the worm?”

You backed away returning his suspicious expression with an almost apologetic one.

-

Just as you were getting settled on the couch, your bell rang. With a sigh, you got back up and walked over to the door. When you opened it, you saw Bones standing in front of you.

“Hey. What’s up?” you said with a forced casualness.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m not letting you in here so you can criticize the way I live.” He held up a bottle of whiskey. “Is that booze? Nevermind, Come in.”

He followed you back into the room and sat down on the couch while you went to get some glasses.

“You know, you bringing alcohol is almost sure sign that you came to criticize the way I live, but I don’t really care.” You sat next to him and set the glasses on the coffee table. “Free booze is free booze.”

“It is not a sure sign of anything other than that I have whiskey.” He poured your drink.

“Last time you told me I overwork myself because I have a fear of being unuseful and that I put too much emphasis on other people’s validation.”

“That’s not criticism. That’s concern for your well being.”

“A rose by any other name.” You took a sip. “So what is it this time?”

“Your boy troubles.”

You coughed, “My what?”

“Spock,” Bones said, “I’m all for avoiding him, but it’s a little out of character for you.”

“I was really hoping you’d be too oblivious to notice,” you muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right? Even Spock noticed and that man wouldn’t notice behavioral changes if they came into the room screaming. So, tell me what that mean green elf did.”

“He didn’t do anything,” you mumbled, picking at the couch cushion. “I told him.”

“Clearly it went very well.”

“Oh, just grand. He rejected me, I embarrassed myself. Such a good time. Wish I could do it everyday.”

“I can’t believe he rejected you,” surprise laced his words, but you passed it off as the usual sentiment that no one should ever reject one of his best friends.

“Very politely too.”

“Bastard.”

You snorted, leaning back against the couch and propping your feet up on the coffee table. “Everytime I see him I want to crawl in a hole and die. Or at least just lay face down on the floor for a few years.”

“The man’s an idiot and you can do much better.” He looked at you. “But you can’t keep avoiding him.”

“Oh, yes I can. I’m no quitter. I’ll keep this up ‘til I die.”

-

“Sir, we’ve lost contact with the landing party,” Uhura informed the captain.

“I want them back on this ship now!” Kirk demanded.

“Aye, Captain,” the technician said over the communicator.

The whole bridge fell silent as they waited with baited breath, the shouts of their fellow crew members on the planet below echoing in their minds.

“Sir, I’ve got them, but we’re one short.”

Kirk sighed. “Thank you, Ensign. I’ll be down in a moment.”

He put his hands on the armrests and pushed himself to his feet. Spock followed him into the lift. They rode down to the transporter in silence.

When they got there, Kirk scanned the defeated faces of the team, trying to see who was missing.

“What happened to (Y/L/N)?” Spock asked, before Kirk had the chance to.

“They didn’t make it.”

“They got caught in the cross fire.”

“How many people were there?” Kirk ask.

“Jim, I need to get them to the sickbay. You can read about it in their reports later.”

“Yes, of course. I want you all to stop by my ready room when you’re done for a debriefing.”

The team filed out of the room with the help of the nursing staff and Bones. Kirk turned to Spock and for a moment he could have sworn he saw a flicker of emotion. But it was gone long before Kirk could be sure what it was or even that he had seen it.

“If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I have some things to attend to.”

Kirk gestured towards the door and Spock nodded once and left.

It took Kirk a moment to leave himself. He felt like he was rooted to the spot, but eventually he was able to tear his gaze away from the transporter pad you hadn’t arrived on and get back to work. He was only able to focus for a good ten minutes before his curiosity about Spock started to grow. It wasn’t long before he could no longer get any work done. Abandoning his post, he went to search for him.

When he reached his quarters, a small, muffled voice told him to come in. The room was dark, lit primarily by the computer screen sitting on the desk. Behind the computer was Spock’s face, scrunched up with eyes glistening.

“This is what you had to attend to?” Kirk asked, crossing the room to the desk, “Crying in the dark?”

“I am not crying.”

“This is a little unusual for you,” he said, ignoring Spock’s previous statement and sitting down on the edge of the desk. “This isn’t because of (Y/N), is it?”

“I would prefer not to talk about it.”

“It’s ok if it is. You cried when I died,” Kirk pointed out. “Crying about the death of someone you care about is natural.”

“Vulcans do not cry,” Spock sniffed.

“You’re half human.”

“I don’t know why you insist on reminding me of that.”

“I’m sorry, I can see you’re very sensitive right now. I was just trying to explain that you have a right to be upset about this.”

“I’m sure that you believe you’re being helpful, but I would much rather you simply left me alone.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.” Kirk slid off of the desk. “But listen, take as much time as you need. We can make do without you for awhile.”

-

“Spock.” Kirk poked his head out into the hall. “Get in here a second.”

Spock stared at him for a second, before finally complying and walking though the sickbay door Kirk was hanging out off.

There were few things left that could truly surprise Spock, but the sight of you sitting on a biobed smiling and nodding along to the lecture Bones was giving you definitely did. You were bruised and battered, but most certainly alive.

“If you ever pull this shit again, I’ll hang ya from the rafters,” Bones threatened.

“Oh, no you will not.” The way you smiled around the words pulled Spock forward as he fought off a smile of his own.

“(Y/N)?” You turned your head at the sound of your name. “We were told you were dead.”

“I supposed it did seem that way.” your smile faded slightly, “But I’m alive as can be.”

“I see that. I just don’t understand how.”

You shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m going to go get the dermal regenerator.” Bones put a hand on your arm. “I’ll be a couple minutes.” He gave you a look that told you you had better use those couple of minutes wisely.

You smiled at him and he left along with Kirk.

“Are you alright?” Spock asked once you were alone.

“Just fine.” You tugged down the sleeve of your uniform that Bones had pulled up earlier to inspect a cut along your forearm.

“You do not look fine.”

“It’s nothing we all haven’t dealt with before,” you said dismissively.  

“Most of us have not been thought to be dead.”

“No,” you chuckled, “I guess you haven’t. Still not any cause for concern.”

“Your dying is certainly cause for concern.”

“You do seem oddly concerned for a Vulcan.” You looked up at him for the first time since the conversation had started. “Especially a Vulcan who didn’t want much to do with me a month ago.”

“You are the one who has been avoiding me. I simply said that us getting romantically involved would be a mistake.”

“Might have something to do with why I was avoiding you,” you muttered.

“The fact that we both wish to make a mistake that would over complicate our professional relationship does not give you the right to avoid me. That was incredibly juvenile. Not to mention unprofessional.” He took a few steps so that he was directly in front of you.

You waved a hand. “Yeah, I’m a real child. Did you say both?”

“I did.”

Wincing, you got up so that you were more level with him and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “So you have feelings for me?”

“That seems to be the case.” He watched you apprehensively, like he was worried you would topple over at any moment.

You smiled, “Good.”

[halekingsourwolf]

Inspired by today’s eclipse and for @sterekwritingroom‘s flash event.

–––––––

The first group of weres pass through Beacon Hills on a Thursday. Stiles probably wouldn’t notice except that he’s spent the past year and a half hanging out almost exclusively with supernatural beings and that… well, ok, these guys aren’t exactly subtle. They tilt their heads almost in sync as he passes by them –– heading in to pay cash at the gas station while they pile back into their packed SUV. Noses flare, stances shift, and Stiles has about point five seconds to plan a bolt back to the Jeep before one of them’s announcing “Don’t trouble your Alpha; we’re just passing north for the event.” And then they’re back in the SUV and gone.

So… yeah, not to diminish Stiles’ awesome deductive skills here but… not subtle.

The second sighting happens before school on Friday, when Stiles ducks into the Dunkin’ Donuts for some much needed coffee and practically trips over a trio of sugar-high toddlers. One of them, wearing what looks like a home-painted t-shirt, decorated with a slightly uneven yellow circle, is midway through whining “Momma, we’re gonna miss the––“ when she stops in her tracks to stare up at him.

Stiles blinks down at her, the door perched against his elbow.

“Say ‘scuse me,” the boy next to her murmurs. It’s too early for this, brain crawling the sludge-slow of non-coffee through his system, and Stiles isn’t sure which of them he’s talking to.

“Excuse me,” he says and all three immediately shuffle, staring wide enough it makes Stiles’ eyes ache for them. He starts past, scrubbing a hand across his jaw self-consciously, wondering if he’d missed sleep drool or a sock in his hair or something on his mad rush out the door but, two steps past, the youngest kid snuffles and speaks up, soft: “Are you gonna come see the moon with us?”

It takes another step for Stiles to register that she’s talking to him, but by the time he blinks back the boy’s already tutting at her.

“No Lucy. He’ll go with his own pack.”

The little girl’s mouth opens in a wide, understanding O, while her older sister tugs proudly on her yellow circle shirt. It’s painted a messy black in the middle, inside the bright golden edge, and Stiles kind of forgets coffee for a minute in the face of actual werewolf children and then there’s a woman stepping up behind them, coffee and a box of munchkins in hand, dropping a fond hand to ruffle the boy’s hair as she gives Stiles an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, they’ve never been through another pack’s territory before. We’ve been driving since Arizona –– long trip for the little ones. But I couldn’t miss the chance for them to experience this. Best sighting until totality in 2017!”

“I’ll be ten,” says the boy, in the tone of one who’s done the math very carefully a dozen times over.

Stiles nods, a little lost because werewolf toddlers, and manages “well that’s… good.”

“I’m two,” the youngest puts in proudly, vaguely missing the thread of the conversation but eager to take part, and Stiles smiles back, wishing he had a little more coffee in his system because it’s not like he’s oblivious about what’s going on in the world this weekend, but he’s starting to feel a little dense for not connecting all kinds of dots sooner.

Then again, there’s another person who probably could’ve connected them for him.

“They don’t know how lucky they are,” the woman adds, beaming down. “I had to wait years for my first one and I’ll never forget the experience. Of course, you won’t feel it the same way as us,” her tone going apologetic, “but I’m sure your pack can’t wait to take part.”

And then she’s ushering the kids out the door with promises of donuts in the car, and Stiles is tugging out his phone, pulling up Derek Hale’s number.

READ MORE

.-

“Why didn’t you mention that the eclipse is a thing for you guys?”

Derek gives him a look from where he stands against the loft’s windows, like he’d been expecting the question and isn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t backflipped twelve floors to the street to avoid it.

Whatever, serves him right for not answering the string of texts Stiles had sent throughout the day. And, speaking of:

“Your phone broken, dude? I know you’re not big with the words in general, but you know how texting works.” He knows from months of slowly breaking Derek into it, from grudging messages about research last summer to the scattered casual texts during his trip through South America with Cora, into the more regular conversations during his second vacation before he’d come back to Beacon Hills permanently a month back. Stiles still has a hard time accepting the fact that Derek’s back with them sometimes –– after two months lost to Kate’s capture, the short intense chaos of the Benefactor, and Derek’s three month trip to clear his head after his “evolution” Stiles had started wondering if he’d ever see the guy settled back here again.

It had kind of thrown him, how much he’d thought about it. How natural it feels to show up at the loft now, dropping his backpack next to the couch, keys on the table, filling up the space like he belongs there.

Or like he wants to make sure he’s got a foothold in it, in case it ever decides to go drifting again.

But point is, he knows Derek knows how to text. Which makes the pointed silence answering Stiles’ dozen texts for the past eight hours particularly unsettling.

“It’s the whole country’s thing,” Derek says finally, unhelpfully. “Haven’t you been watching the news?”

Which, yes, Stiles has. The world’s been pretty caught up in solar eclipse frenzy for the past couple weeks, broadcasting best viewing spots, promoting safe viewing tips, advertising eclipse viewing glasses at your local retailer for thirty bucks a pop. May 20th, 2012 will be the first solar eclipse viewable in the US since 1994 and the country’s acting like it’s the kick-off to a new millennium or something.

Which is so far beside the point.

“Yeah, but weres are the only ones who can feel it.” Stiles is aiming an unimpressed look at Derek, which is why he’s able to catch the flinch when it happens. It’s small, just a quick bite of jaw and taut shoulders before smoothing out again. It makes Stiles pause, rethink things for a beat because maybe the whole ‘feel the eclipse’ thing isn’t actually a positive experience… but Stiles kind of doubts a mom would drag her kids up from Arizona to Northern California to experience something anywhere less than awesome. Besides, Stiles has been thinking about this all day, and he’s got a feeling that––

“It… makes you stronger, right? I mean, a lunar eclipse makes you guys weak so a solar eclipse is like a power boost?”

Maybe that’s why Derek’s trying to avoid thinking about it. With the kind of luck he has and the amount of shit he’s gone through, he might not love the idea of hanging around a bunch of super-powered weres, even if he’d get a boost from the moon too. Guy’s lived the kind of life that has you looking for threats while other people paint eclipse t-shirts with their toddlers, and that thought’s kind of enough to punch an empathetic ache directly through Stiles’ chest.

But Derek’s sighing, rolling out his shoulders and aiming a tired look at the horizon.

“Not… exactly.” And then silence again. Stiles bites his tongue over the urge to question, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing closer instead. A year ago he’d be demanding answers, spouting his own theories impatiently while he waited. Now he knows Derek well enough to see the effort it’s taking to dredge his own words up. “It’s… we don’t get stronger, really, but… our bond with our wolf does. The lunar eclipse is less about physical weakness and more about that bond weakening. We can’t call on our wolf to give us strength, to help us heal, that bond’s weakened and that part of us is… lost for the duration. The solar eclipse is the opposite. It’s supposed to leave us pure and connected, make us… whole in a way we only ever skim close to.” He shrugs, like he’s at a loss for how else to describe it. He hasn’t looked toward Stiles yet; his tone and profile are carefully unreadable. “Werewolves spend years planning for solar eclipses.”

There’s something missing from the story, some obvious puzzle piece Derek’s hiding in his lightly curled fist because “Dude,” the word falls out awed and follows up with a smack to Derek’s elbow. “Exactly no part of that sounds not awesome. Why didn’t we know about this, we’re like an hour and a half south of the main path.”

He ignores the too-slow look Derek aims down to the point of contact, his phone out and road trip Sunday sent off to Scott before he turns his focus back to the man in front of him.

“Seriously though, I know you and Deaton like giving each other a run for your money on the vague with the vital info department but a heads up could’ve been cool. I had to learn about all this from a trio of hyped up toddlers.”

“Toddlers?” Finally Derek reacts, just a little, a pique of interest pushing past the outdated gruffness.

“Werewolf toddlers,” Stiles agrees, lips twitching faintly. “Super cute. I think they wanted to induct me into their pack.”

“They’d throw you back once they got to know you.”

“Hey!” A rush of mock outrage and flailing limbs. “I’ll have you know I’m awesome with kids.”

“They finally found someone on their level?” Derek shoots back, and some of that indecipherable tension has eased out of his shoulders. Stiles smirks at him for a beat while Derek’s eyes glint, teasing, back. Then they drop and, through the room’s easy silence:

“We were all going to see this one together.” The puzzle piece slots a heartbeat before Derek says it. “My family… even a decade back we were talking about it. Peter flew to South Africa to experience a total eclipse in 2002 and acted like it changed his life. We were all…” He smiles, faint and self-deprecating. “so jealous. So my parents sat us down to plan out a trip for the next local one. Ten years away.” His shoulders roll, the shrug deceptively easy. “It felt so long then.”

Stiles hasn’t moved, hasn’t breathed, since the word family hit air. He recognizes the pain in Derek’s voice, the too light shrugs to mask the weight of old losses. Disrupted plans, shattered dreams. The minefield of everyday life, where mundane tasks turn into minefields and celebrations dig up long-buried tragedies. How it almost feels safer to hide your head in the sand until they sweep past you.

The air feels thick when Stiles finally drags in breath, lips parched as he clumsily wets over them.

“We’re heading out at twelve on Sunday,” he says, and waits until Derek’s eyes flit over to him to add. “I’ll pick you up then.”

.-

Stiles almost expects the loft to be empty when he pulls up on Sunday. It’ll make for a long ride that way –– Scott having decided to drive with Kira who decided to drive with Lydia. They’d asked him to come along in her car but Stiles had vetoed on the grounds of not letting his Jeep miss this rare celestial event. And when Derek elbows off the wall of the building, hands shoved deep into the pockets of the old leather jacket wrapped around his shoulders like a security blanket, Stiles knows he’d made the right call.

Derek slides in next to him, aiming a look that’s too knowing and too grateful toward the empty back seat. Stiles bites down on a smile, a flush of warmth spreading up from his chest toward the back of his neck as he steers them out of the lot.

“So, ready to howl at the moon and feel whole, sourwolf?”

There’s a huffed breath –– amusement, anticipation, nerves.

“Guess we’ll see.”

The eclipse is waiting.

They head north.

[hegemoneapple]

Basilisk Eyes: Chapter 30: Train to Waterloo

Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 30 out of 157 | T | AO3 | FFN | WATT | HPFF

Harry and Hermione stood on the platform waiting for the train to London with Dr. Granger. Harry had shaken out his staff to restore it to its normal size so he could show Hermione how he used it to get around.

“That’s really impressive, Harry,” Hermione commented when he walked around a rubbish bin to demonstrate how useful it was.

“Here, you want to try?” he held it out to her.

“Oh, I don’t know, Harry,” she said hesitantly, but she took it from his hand and held still while he tried to put the aftí on her ear. After a bit of awkward fumbling that involved getting his hands tangled in her hair, she smoothed it back and guided his hand to her ear so that he could put it on. He heard her walking around, tapping the ground. “It’s not saying anything, Harry,” she said.

“You’ve extended your index finger down the length, right? Are you swinging it from left to right in an arc in front of your body as I showed you?” he asked, “and stepping with your opposite foot?”

“Oh, okay, now it’s doing it. That’s cool!”

She walked around with it a bit more. Hermione came up next to Harry and handed it back to him. She touched the back of his hand with it and then grasped his other hand and turned it palm up to place the aftí in it. 

“You really can’t see the aftí once it is in place, Harry,” Hermione remarked.

“Harry, I’ve been thinking,” said Dr. Granger. “Maybe before we catch the train, we should go talk to your Aunt and Uncle.”

“Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea, Dr. Granger.”

“Why not?” 

“Well, they are really busy right now. That’s why they couldn’t take me.” Harry lied again. He’d had parents of friends from primary who’d done similar things… and it had not gone well for Harry. Never had it improved his lot… it had only made things worse.

The train came into the station and Harry could tell that Dr. Granger was torn.

“Really, it’s okay. They want me to be independent,” said Harry.

“I think this is a bit much, sending a newly blinded child on the train to London to find his adaptation training on his own!” 

“Well, they know I have this staff.” He held up his staff. “It makes it easier for me, right?” 

“Well, okay, but I’m going to give them a call when I get home,” Dr. Granger conceded as they boarded the train. Harry held onto Hermione’s shoulder and held his staff in his left hand, parallel to his body as they went up the stairs into the car.  

Harry was tempted to tell him not to, but decided to let it go. 

Maybe he’ll forget.

“Harry, don’t you have more luggage?” Dr. Granger inquired when the got on and found their seats. “I understand that this course you’re taking will last a month.”

“I’ve got it all with me, Dr. Granger. My staff holds a lot,” he said leaning in close so that he didn’t have to say it too loudly. He collapsed it and put it in his pocket.

“That is truly amazing.” 

The train started to pull out of the station and Harry sat back in his seat feeling a bit tired and a little content. It felt really good to be sitting next to Hermione and her dad, though, he had a niggling worry for Hedwig. 

I hope she’s okay!

“Harry, how’d you crack your glasses?” Hermione asked.

“I ran into a door.” 

“Oh, ow! Maybe when we’re at the training center, I can fix them for you.”

“That’d be nice. I tried to repair a napkin of my Aunt’s that I burned—I guess it was my great-grandmother’s—when I was ironing, but she said that it turned all sorts of different colors. It fixed the holes and it felt whole to me. I used the Reparo charm with my staff. So I’ve been nervous about trying the charm with other things, like my glasses.” 

“That’s weird that it turned it different colors. Why do you think it did that?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I didn’t know the word for napkin, so I just said ‘Reparo napkin,’ I think that’s why it happened. When you fixed my glasses, you said, ‘Occulus reparo,’ remember?”

“I guess that could be it.” agreed Hermione.

“Harry, Hermione, I’m going to use the facilities, I’ll be back in a little bit,” Dr. Granger said as he got up.

“Harry—you can’t tell my dad about the Basilisk, okay? I didn’t tell him about any of that stuff or even that I was petrified!” 

“Oh, okay. What did you tell him happened to me, then?” Harry asked.

“Well, I told my parents that you were injured by an exploding cauldron when you were trying to protect Ginny from a bully. I wrote about this in my letter, but I guess you didn’t get it.” 

“Bully is a bit of an understatement.” 

“They’ll never let me return to Hogwarts if they knew anything about some monster lurking in the castle or if they knew how close I got to being killed by it.” 

Harry let out a sigh. With everything that had happened since he had forgotten about that. Hermione was almost killed by the Basilisk, too. He felt a little twinge of guilt for befriending Nio, and then he mentally kicked himself. 

Nio is nothing like the Basilisk. And maybe the Basilisk wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been controlled by Tom Riddle.

Harry was feeling like he was being lulled to sleep by the motion of the train. It was weird to travel on a train and not see the landscape rushing by.

Dr. Granger returned and it sounded like he’d brought a newspaper with him.

Harry asked Hermione about the last month of school that he missed and she started recounting all the lessons that he missed and pretty soon he was having a harder and harder time paying attention. He felt like he was weaving in and out of consciousness until he gave in completely and laid his head on her shoulder.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

“Harry, Harry,” Hermione said as she shook his shoulder.

Harry sat up and wiped a string of drool suspended from his lip with the back of his hand.

“Oh, sorry, Hermione. I guess I fell asleep.” 

“It’s okay, Harry. You looked tired. I bet you needed to sleep.” He touched her shoulder where his head had been resting and found a corresponding spot of wetness.

“Oh, sorry. I drooled on you.” He was embarrassed.

“Harry, it’s okay,” Hermione insisted, though he imagined that she was a bit grossed out by it. He could only go by her voice.

“We’re getting close to the Waterloo station. I think we get off there and then walk to the Waterloo East station to catch the underground to Charing Cross Road.” 

Harry held onto his staff and whispered, “Tempus,” to find out the time. The lyrical voice of the staff said, “8:13 am.”

“What time is it?” Hermione asked. Harry told her. 

“That’s really handy—your aftí means you can use magic while you’re around muggles.” 

“Yeah, it’s nice. What are you going to do after you drop me off at the Adaptation training.” 

“Dad said he’d take me to the British Museum afterward.” 

“Oh, I bet you’ll love that.” Harry was glad that he didn’t have to go to some boring museum.

“Harry, before I forget, I want to give you my phone number. Is there something I can write it on for you, that you could read it with your anagnóstis?” 

“Oh, I have the note from the doctor you could write it on there,” Harry said, pulling it out of his bookbag. “Do you have a pencil or pen?” 

She did and he listened to the pencil scratching on the parchment.

“I wrote my number on the back and also Ron’s number.” 

“Thanks. That’s great.” 

Harry felt better knowing that he could call his friends, given access to a muggle phone. 

“I don’t know if they will have muggle phones at the training,” admitted Harry. “But I should be able to send letters with Hedwig, once she comes back.” 

He couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.

“She’ll find you, Harry.” 

“I hope so. I don’t know what this training will be like, but maybe I can come visit you on the weekend or something.” 

“Oh, that would be great, Harry!” 

“Yes, Harry, you’d be welcome any time,” Dr. Granger agreed. “We are going to France for holiday mid-July and into August, though.”

“Oh, wow. What part of France?” Harry asked.

“Paris. Emma (Hermione’s mother) has planned it all.” 

“I’ll write you lots, Harry, and tell you all about it. They have some really amazing museums and I’m hoping to do some research into some of the magical sites in Paris. I’ve only read about them, it’ll be really interesting to visit them. And of course, the food is divine.”

Harry felt a little glum. He was glad to escape the Dursleys for a bit—anything had to be better than dodging Dudley, but when he compared it to Hermione’s adventures, it felt bleak. He shook his head trying to dislodge the self-pity. 

Even with the sting of envy, something was comforting about Dr. Granger’s presence that made Harry a bit wistful that their journey was coming to an end. He wasn’t sure what it was. They hadn’t really talked much, beyond his desire to look into the Dursley’s neglect. 

Maybe that was it. 

Or maybe it was something about the way he sounded and smelled—his voice was comforting and strong and he had a clean, woody smell about him… like a strong tree that you could lean against and feel safe. Harry realized that he’d never felt that way about Uncle Vernon. He had only known fear and revulsion around him. 

Hermione’s lucky.

They were approaching the station (according to the announcements over the train and Hermione who was giving him a blow-by-blow description of pulling into the station). When it stopped, they stood up and Harry shook out his staff again, taking Hermione’s arm after looping his bookbag diagonally across his body.