#i feel like he’d run a clan with like…his suave I GUESS???

[akabloom]

exorcist time >:]]

In this au, the natori clan is the most powerful clan at the time and Shuuichi is the revered (by some) clan head while the matoba clan is suffering and dying out.

Seiji’s older sister is still with the clan and is the current head.

[astralaffairs]

can i get number 29 from valentine's day prompts with laurens?

prompt 29: Secret Admirer

it took hella mental effort not to make this ridiculously tacky, and i cannot explain how it became 3.5k words. but pls someone explain to me why RA john is such a cutie??

————-

It had to be a crime for anyone to be up that early on a Sunday morning.

You’d spent your Saturday night out with Hercules and his clan of fellow grad students; you were still an undergrad, but he and you had always been surprisingly close for siblings, so when you entered his university just two years behind him, he’d adopted you into his friend group, who accepted you with open arms.

This, however, was three years later. You were a junior, and you’d spent the fall thanking your lucky stars that your friends had decided to stick around for grad school there, as, not only would you have missed them dearly, but just by chance, a few of them had ended up as teacher’s assistants for your year’s courses.

Them staying around also meant they could drag you to law school parties off-campus, and it meant you had them to thank for your hangover. You were lucky John had been the designated driver; as the RA of your floor, you and he were headed to the same place at the end of the night, which meant you had him to force you to drink a bottle of water and actually go to sleep in a bed, as opposed to passing out sloppy and wasted on the floor.

Who you really owed your thanks to, though, was whatever genius decided it’d be a good idea to come knocking on your door at 6 AM.

You let out a long, dramatic groan as you pulled yourself up. This was one of few times you were relieved not to have a roommate.

Despite the shrunken proportions of your dorm room, walking those eight feet to the door felt like walking eight miles that morning. It didn’t help when you opened the door to an empty hallway, no one standing before you. You were about to slam the door in a fury, seething quietly at whoever thought it’d be a funny idea to ding-dong-ditch you at the crack of dawn – you’d have guessed it was Alex, but you’d also be shocked if he wasn’t still lying fully unconscious on the floor of Lafayette’s apartment. That was when you noticed a small box sitting at your feet.

You did a double take down the hall around you; it was still deserted. Hesitantly, you picked up the package, praying it wasn’t anthrax. (You didn’t have many enemies, but surely there was someone who wanted to murder you quietly.) You checked around you one last time before retreating into your room, throwing yourself back onto the bed. As much as you wanted to go immediately back to sleep, your curiosity had the better of you that Sunday.

You eyed the little, plain cardboard box that you’d deposited at the foot of your bed warily. Surely if it contained a bomb, there was nothing you could do about it now, anyway, so what was the harm?

You eased the flaps on the top apart, and the first thing you saw was a paper, folded up to the size of your thumb and, for whatever reason, taped onto a box even smaller than the original. You opened it and were surprised to see it’d been typed up.

Y/N–

Okay, so at least you knew you weren’t gonna find anyone fuming later on because they’d left their girlfriend’s Valentines gift by the wrong door.

I’ve never been good with words – though, I guess that’s why you’re the English major instead of me – so I’ll keep this short & sweet, much like you ;)

You rolled your eyes at that. You didn’t know who this letter-writer thought they were, but waking you up at six in the morning to call you short wasn’t what you’d call suave. (You weren’t short, anyway, and you’d stand by that until the day you died. Though, unfortunately, you may have had to stand slightly below that until the day you died – you weren’t sure you could reach.) You ignored how the last line made your pulse jump.

I think you’ll find the contents of the box fill the same role.

Yours.

That was it? Yours? Not, ‘yours, the cute stranger down the hall,’ not, ‘yours, the buff TA from Accounting Law,’ not even, ‘yours, the guy you pass in the elevator at the gym every Thursday who knows very well you’ve been eyeing him all semester.’

Just, yours.

You opened the box to find a slice of strawberry shortcake, and again, you rolled your eyes. How clever. You had to force yourself not to be endeared by who was apparently now ‘your’ mystery, but you couldn’t fight your smile at the sheer audacity.

——–———–

Predictably, you brought it up to everyone you knew within the next few days, and unfortunately, they seemed every bit as stumped as you were. At that point, you didn’t know what to do but ignore it.

So, you went on with your week, and the next Sunday, you were again awoken at first light.

Your groan this time wasn’t any less annoyed at the knock on the door; this time, the note made a jab at your dancing skills, said that ‘you still made being sloppy drunk look cute.’ You furrowed your brow. If this was someone’s way of trying to unlock your heart, this wasn’t exactly the key. However, if your being sloppy drunk was on their mind, it had to have been someone at the frat party you went to the night prior. Or, someone you passed in your building on the way back. Which narrowed it down to approximately half of campus.

Again, the letter was simply signed as 'yours.’ You didn’t know what to make of it all.

The contents of the box made you smile, though: a water bottle and a pack of Tylenol. It wasn’t exactly the height of romance, but something about the hangover care package made it feel more thoughtful yet.

You popped a Tylenol and went back to sleep. You’d be better at overanalyzing after you’d gotten at least six hours.

Those six hours turned out to be six more hours, though, and you emerged from your room just after noon. You stifled a yawn as you made your way out to the common area, still in your pajama shorts and the sweatshirt you’d pilfered from someone’s floor, to find Angelica on one of the couches eating boxed mac-and-cheese.

She was one of your oldest friends at your university; she’d been your roommate freshman and sophomore year before she ultimately elected to move in with her boyfriend. She raised an eyebrow as you entered, wearing a knowing smile that you couldn’t decipher the meaning behind.

“Hey, Ang,” you said wearily, making your way to the cupboard to pull out one of the instant ramen cups you’d kindly labeled 'Y/N ONLY.’

“Hey.” She eyed you, amusement dancing in her eyes, and when you continued to stare blankly at her, she spoke again. “Did you seriously manage to get another noise complaint today? That’s, like, the fifth this month. You’ve really been busy since I moved out, huh?”

While she looked smug, her words just had you confused. Unless it was from you snoring too loudly (which, in hindsight, was very plausible), there was no way you’d have ended up with a noise complaint that night. You furrowed your brow. “What?”

“What?” She shrugged as you put your noodles in the microwave. “Didn’t you? I mean, I saw Laurens walking away from your room this morning and just kind of assumed.”

You chuckled. “No, he was just my ride back from a party last night. Unfortunately, not one where I managed to get laid.”

“And you got back at 6 AM?” She looked surprised, and your confusion only mounted.

“No?” you said, your voice hesitant. “Wait, what are you talking about? 'Cause it’s obviously not the same thing I’m talking about.”

She shifted on the couch to face you where you stood near the microwave. “When I got back from my run this morning, I came back up to my and my John’s room–” John Church, her long-term boyfriend and inaugural junior-year roommate, “and I saw Laurens coming back from, like, right by your door. Not at three AM, or whenever it was that you got back from the frat house.”

It took you about that long to connect the dots. John at 6 AM, coming back from your room, the knock that’d woken you up bright and early – no way that could be a coincidence. Your eyes widened; you started down the hall toward the RA dorm without a second thought. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered. Angelica’s brows shot toward her hairline.

“Wait, Y/N, what about the microwave?” she called after you. You’d slipped too far into your tunnel vision to care. “Y/N, your noodles!”

You reached the end of the hallway and promptly banged on the door before you. John emerged in a matter of seconds, whether it was because he happened to be up or because of how aggressively you were trying to get in.

“Y/N?” He sounded surprised to see you. You didn’t humor him.

“Did you leave that box outside my door this morning?”

Slowly, his mask of confusion cracked, a grin adorning his lips as he leaned against the side of the doorway. “Busted.”

However, your brow knit at the immediate admission, trying to suppress a smile despite your shock. “Wait, so you left me those little… 'secret admirer’ notes?” You hesitated; he raised an eyebrow. “What… why did you–”

“Hold up, I don’t know anything about any notes,” he cut you off, holding up his hands as if to claim innocence. “Don’t shoot the messenger; I dropped those boxes off because someone asked for an assist.”

You paused, taken aback. You hoped he didn’t notice when your face visibly fell. “Wait, so if it wasn’t you…” you trailed off, pondering his words. You raised an expectant eyebrow. “Then you know who sent me those!”

His smile again graced his lips at that; he raked a hand through his hair as he chuckled. “Now you’ve really caught me,” he said, tone teasing. You could only roll your eyes.

“Who is it, then?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret admirer if I just told you!” He put a hand on his heart, his expression a caricature of scandalization, and when you glared, he chuckled. “I promise it’s not rocket science, Y/N; just figure it out.”

You scowled. “It’d be so much easier for everyone if you just told me,” you whined, and he gave you a mock pout.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he sighed, “Now that you put it like that, I guess I’ll have to tell you.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really?”

“No.”

You huffed, folding your arms and stomping your foot like a toddler, and he reached out to ruffle your hair with a laugh. You yelped as you ducked away from his hand, and his grin only grew. “You’re an absolute clown, you know that?”

He shrugged, looking as though he was entertaining the thought. “Maybe, but I’m your absolute clown.”

Something in the phrase struck you as being familiar.

——————-

Your noodles were ruined, and you spent the rest of the afternoon sulking about it. Perhaps Angelica was onto something when she said you needed to listen to her more often (though, you hadn’t quite heard the reasoning behind it). Moreover, you were growing increasingly frustrated with the secret admirer notes. After making yourself a fresh cup of noodles (and cleaning the microwave; your first cup had exploded), you spent your Sunday absentmindedly watching Netflix and overanalyzing everything you could take away from the secret admirer notes. You’d come to only a few conclusions.

1. If they were working through John, it had to be someone who lived on your floor, someone who knew you well, or someone who knew John well. That provided very little input.

2. If they’d managed to create and get the second box to you between 3 AM and 6 AM the previous night (morning, really), then it had to be someone who you went to the frat party with who also lived in your dorm – again, a fairly deep pool of prospects.

3. They felt comfortable enough with you to call you short, make fun of your dancing, and note that you couldn’t hold your alcohol. That was telling – it had to be someone you knew well who also lived in your dorm.

However, you didn’t get the chance to conduct a thorough examination of all your friends in the building; you still had three readings and a paper due the next day that you hadn’t done because you were, as your pursuer so elegantly put it, busy 'getting sloppy drunk.’ So you went through the motions – you did your work, you went to your classes the next day, and you arrived back at your dorm to the unexpected: another box.

There was a week between the first and second of them; a third already being on your figurative doorstep was unprecedented. You didn’t hesitate to open this one, and its contents immediately had you grinning: four cups of instant ramen and a note. This one wasn’t typed.

Heard I ruined your noods, so it seemed only fair to send you some of my own. I showed you mine, now you show me yours?

Yours ;)

The handwriting was immediately recognizable, and you couldn’t help but think that was the idea. You marched down to John’s room with the letter and knocked every bit as aggressively as you had before. Again, he opened it immediately.

“Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow. “Finally figure out who’s been sending you those notes?”

You stuck the letter in his face. “This is your handwriting,” you accused him. He took it from you, looked at it mildly for only a moment, and shrugged.

“Sure seems to be.”

“So you wrote this!”

“Looks like it.” His nonchalant expression had your head spinning.

“Can you stop with the vague answers for one minute?” you huffed, and he raised his eyebrows, pushing himself off of the doorframe. It appeared he could tell that this was genuinely beginning to trouble you. “I cannot deal with whatever it is you’re playing at with these.” You snatched the note back, waved it at him. “Just explain.”

A small smile was beginning to form on his lips by that point. “Well,” he began, voice soft, “Seems pretty clear to me. Both the conclusions you came breaking down my door with were apt.”

“So you wrote these, then?” He nodded, and you pursed your lips. “Which means what, exactly? What am I supposed to take from that? That you’re an incredible accomplice for whoever dreamed this up?” His smile began to grow as you began to rant, seemingly becoming more amused with each word. “That it was you leaving the packages? Because, John, I need answers, and this is really just starting to mess with my head.”

When your voice softened, your shell of anger cracking around the edges to reveal the slightest bit of vulnerability, John was hit with a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to mess with you. “Y'know, I thought I was being painfully obvious from the first one.”

“You… ?”

“I figured you’d open it, bring it to me, and we’d have a good laugh. Just that.” He shrugged, eyeing your stunned expression before continuing, “Maybe I just didn’t realize quite how drunk you were.”

“What d'you mean?”

“The morning I left the first note, you’d spent thirty minutes on the ride home telling me how you’d absolutely die for strawberry shortcake right then, and then you tried to shove me outta my own car when I called you a shortcake in response.” He grinned, and you just looked dumbstruck. “The second one didn’t even require any knowledge of the night before. Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed.” He sighed, falsely wistful, but cut himself off when he caught wind of your wide eyes. You were still struggling to believe his words.

John, who had spent the past three years making fun of your eating habits, chewing you out for showing up late because you went to three different drugstores to find the right bottle of $6 wine; John, who groaned every time Hercules dragged you to him, letting him know you’d been throwing up in the bathroom, but who drove you home without a second thought, always came to check on you in the morning. John was your secret admirer? The whole thing felt backwards.

“When you came to confront me yesterday, I knew I had to fess up sometime soon.” He rolled his eyes, as though exasperated with your incompetence. You were still shocked beyond a shadow of a doubt.

John was a generally caring person. It was why they gave him RA status, it was why he brought bakery to the commons area every Thursday afternoon, knowing that the professors there were notorious for Friday morning tests, it was why he kept a first aid kit stocked with everything imaginable outside his door – bandaids, Tylenol, pads, tampons, even chocolate.

He’d always been caring. His behavior toward you just felt like part of the pattern.

“Why?” you breathed, unsure of yourself. “Why’d you start leaving them?”

He considered himself, tongue in cheek. “Well, the first wasn’t meant to be quite so elusive. I spent half an hour refusing to pull over at the nearest bakery; I thought it’d be nice to bring you what you asked for when you weren’t dangerously tipsy. Honestly, didn’t even mean for it to be such a puzzle. Just a little gift.”

“But apparently, someone can’t take a hint.” You scowled as he ruffled your hair, and he just chuckled. His gaze was soft, his smile wide. “When you showed up here with the second note, I didn’t mean to deny it. But then, you sounded mildly ticked.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” you protested mildly, cheeks burning when he raised an eyebrow.

“Anyway, here I was thinking I had more game than that, so I lied. Just a little.” He shrugged. “But then you looked so disappointed, so maybe I did have game afterall, hm?”

“Why wouldn’t you just come talk to me about it?” you asked softly, and the amusement in his gaze didn’t subside as he raised an eyebrow. Part of you struggled to believe he’d missed the way you spent the past three years looking at him. That he’d missed how, no, you weren’t an affectionate drunk – he was just the one driving you home.

Finally, he spoke. “Now, why would I do that, when I could bring you here to come talk to me about it?”

You frowned, though there was no malice behind it. “Coward,” you accused playfully, jabbing at his chest.

“Maybe.” Again he shrugged, before a wide grin split his mask of nonchalance. “But your coward.”

You huffed out a laugh, surprised by the teasing words. “My oblivious coward, apparently.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Half the campus has a thing for you, John,” you scoffed. His smile was soft, then.

“Maybe, but I don’t care about half of campus.” Tentatively, he took a step closer to you, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I care about you.”

You bit your lip, staring back up at him hesitantly. Your heart seemed to have stopped. John’s hand fell to your cheek, cradling your face. “John?” You finally said.

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?” The words were hardly a whisper, and before you could do anything else, he was reacting, taking a final step forward to snake his arm around your waist, pull you to him as he finally pressed his lips against yours. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck. Though the kiss was chaste, no more than lips against lips, it left you breathless, chest heaving against his when you finally pulled away.

You looked surprised, and he gave you a wry smile. “That’s a yes, for the record.”

You couldn’t help your grin. “Hey, so about that note…” He raised an eyebrow, and you reached up to tug at the collar of his shirt. “What was that, about, 'I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’?” Mischief seeped into your tone, and he looked stunned, his smile one of entertained disbelief.

He didn’t even bother to respond, moving quickly backward into his dorm room, tugging you with him, and you jerked forward with a squeak. He gave you a sly grin. “Lock the door.”

[themadauthorshatter]

Toppat!Charles Part 5!!

GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH TOPPAT!CHARLES!?

Thank you all so much for your patience with this one, like I said, I've been going through a lot in my personal life, though things are getting better. 

If you haven’t read the previous parts you can find them HERE: 

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

ENOUGH ABOUT ME! TIME FOR THE RECAP:

Henry has taken the CCC's offer, despite opposition from Galeforce, Ellie, and even Daddy Dearest Terrence Suave.

Meanwhile, Right has polished up Charles and set him up in an actual room for a change of pace.

Not really a headcanon this time but a MASSIVE, MASSIVE trigger warning for torture, violence, and a trauma truck load of angst; we're focusing more on Charles this part since he was more of a cameo in Part 4.

Got that? GREAT!

LET'S BEGIN!

Like before we pick up where Part 4 left off, but with Charles in his new room across from Right, who has taken his position at a desk chair and is calmly talking to Charles. If this were a movie, we would only hear the music score before getting a close up of Right saying something to Charles, who reacts by raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

"What?"

Right sighs as he rubs the non-cybernetic half of his head. "Do I got to repeat everything to everyone?" He recomposes himself and meets Charles once more, the pilot shaking his head as he curls his knees into his chest and holds his hands on either side of his head.

"No. No, no, no, nononono. I can't do that. You can't make me."

"So you'd rather go back to rotting in your cell?" Right asks as he raises an eyebrow. "I'm offering you the chance to have some form of freedom and you're willing to throw it away for your stupid government?"

Charles keeps his head down, but clenches a fist. "They'll get me out of here. Just wait and see."

Right grabs Charles's ankles and throws them down before grabbing his jaw, forcing his to look up. Thhe two are inches away from each other and Charles's instincts are telling him to run since fighting hasn't exactly worked out for him.

"Look at where you are and what's been happening. Any time the government tried sending a destroyer, it didn't work. You were left alone in that cell with nothing but your shadow on the wall to talk to. You have a chance to get out and not have to deal with that anymore. You're seriously going to turn it down because you think the government's coming to rescue you? Taking my offer would get you out a lot quicker. "

Charles only glares into Right's human eye before doing a very ungentlemanly and dumb thing by spitting in his eye. (Unsanitary as well, I might add. Really, Charles, get with the program!)

Right backs away slightly, though it's more like an angry flinch because he recoils and then freezes.

Charles, however, keeps his glare as his wipes his mouth off with his sleeve. "Never."

Right is still for a moment before backhanding Charles with his cybernetic hand, not enough to seriously injure him, i.e. a broken jaw or knocking him unconscious, but it does leave him seeing stars and in a good state of, 'that hurt a lot more than it should.'

Right stands back, takes out a handkerchief, wipes his face off, and then pockets said handkerchief before folding his hands behind his back.

"You'll come to your senses. If you can wait, so can I."

With that, Right leaves the room just as Charles picks himself up, rubbing his cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Charles."

As the door closes behind Right, Charles's face and the room's temperature drop.

Cut to Right, who is leaving the hall and going to that room we saw in the Free Man ending, that cafeteria- like room with the big window overlooking Earth.

JUMP TO THE NEXT "MORNING"

Charles is sound asleep in his bed when a pair of toppats come in. One stays by the door and the other wakes up Charles.

The pilot, due to being out-strengthed and delirious from sleep, is pulled out of his room and can barely keep up with the toppats as they drag him to a different room.

In Charles's perspective, the world is dark and he keeps drifting in and out of sleep. He eventually opens his eyes to see he's back in the jungle, by the crashed helicopter. Right is nowhere to be seen, but Charles does see someone else, someone that he ACTUALLY happy to see. As in he smiles and tears up.

"Henry?"

Henry stands still as he stares at a growingly flustered Charles, who races toward him.

"Henry! Man, are you a sight for sore eyes! You have no idea what these guys've done. C'mon, let's go-"

Just as Charles is about to hug Henry, he holds a hand and stops Charles in his tracks.

"Hen... Henry?"

Henry's face turns from blank to angry or annoyed and he shakes his head, backing away.

Charles tries to follow him, but he can't. When he looks, he sees his feet are sunken into the ground and panics.

"Henry! Help! I-I think I stepped in quicksand!"

Henry only backs away further, now glaring at Charles.

"HENRY, PLEASE! SAY SOMETHING!"

Henry finally approaches him and leans close to his his face.

Before he can say anything, Charles's breath catches and he quickly finds he can no longer breathe. 

Charles tries gasping and exhaling, but only blows bubbles out of his mouth. 

The jungle fades away into a very dim grey, almost falling. Henry falls away with it, much to Charles’s fear. 

The pilot tries reaching for Henry and is pulled away, seeing as Henry swims further away from him.

Charles gasps for real this time as he is pulled out of a tub of water and focuses his gaze on Right, who is standing over him with his arms folded behind his back. 

“Good morning. Sleep well?’” 

Charles tries to push himself away the tub only to find his hands are either tied or handcuffed behind his back, I’m noting an ‘either’ here because while I can see Right using handcuffs or restraints like the ones we see in the Free Man ending, to save on resources and because Charles is already pretty weak, he’d probably just use a rope.

The toppats that woke him up and dragged him here both hold his shoulders, one holding the back of his collar. 

Charles glares at Right and struggles against his bonds, but he stays quiet. 

Right sniffs and nods at the two holding Charles. “Give ‘im a wash.” 

The one holding his collar grips his hair, yanking it and making Charles follow his movement before dunking him back into the water. 

Right watches as Charles struggles both above and below the water, mildly impressed that he’s still strong enough to the point that the two toppats are having a hard time holding him under. If this were a movie or a game cutscene, the camera would hold on Right’s face, resolute and expressionless, and all we would here would be the score and Charles struggling. Right blinks and an icon appears on his cybernetic eye, a solid circle with a ring around it. 

A camera. 

After a while, Charles’s movements slow and nearly stop completely, bubbles leaving his mouth and nose. 

Right nods at the toppats pull him up.

If that first dunk didn’t wake up and alarm Charles, this certainly did. 

Charles gives one of those loud gasps and coughs up water as he catches his breath. 

Once his breathing goes at least to where he’s not huffing and puffing, he feels one of the toppats grip his hair again. He fights against him, but is ultimately pushed back into the water. 

The partner repeats itself for a while. 

Dunk his head in the water, wait for him to stop struggling, pull him out and wait for him to just about get his breathing normal, rinse and repeat. 

After maybe a half an hour of this, Right notices Charles has started shivering after his last dunk and is having a hard time getting his breathing even. 

“Enough. Get ‘ im to a medic.”

They do so, and Charles follows with barely any strength to keep up.

The next day isn't any better. 

The toppats are ordered to sit Charles in a chair, his hands on the rests, his head in a restraint, and his eyes held open with something like reverse clamps; if you’ve seen or read A Clockwork Orange, you’ll know what I’m talking about. 

Right takes a seat next to him, a medic on his other side to keep his eyes hydrated, and the two watch a simple movie. 

Just a nice, sit down, home cinema night 😁😊

JUST KIDDING! NO THEY DON’T! 

“You seem too confident your government’s gonna save you.” Right turns his head to the screen and folds one leg over the other. “Let me remind you what they’ve done to us.” 

Charles follows his gaze as the film begins. 

I’m guessing the Toppat Clan has been around for a while, based on how many paintings/pictures of the leaders we see in Completing the Mission, so there would be PLENTY of news footage of the government using any means necessary to arrest any toppats they can get their hands on. 

The film Charles watches is nothing short of horrifying. I won’t go into detail, but just know that it’s pretty disturbing. Like, psychologically messed up. 

Charles is forced to watch as members of the government, something HE WORKS FOR, arrest, torture, and execute Toppat Clan members in extremely violent ways. 

Right is quiet as he watches because he’s seen this tape on more than one occasion; he also watches as a reminder as to why he joined the toppats to begin with. 

Charles, however, isn’t exactly that. After watching a clip of seeing a government official gun down a group of new toppat recruits, he finally snaps. 

“STOP IT!” Charles cries as he struggles in his chair and restraint, much to the annoyance of the medic. “PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!” 

Right’s attention is now on the pilot as he continues screaming and crying, watching quietly as he takes note of his work. 

Charles screams as loudly as he can as the film keeps rolling, unable to look away as the government is practically used against him. 

Right uses this pattern for a LONG while. One day, Charles is physically tortured and the next he is shown more footage of the government hunting down toppats. 

This cycle is continued until, after maybe three months(it doesn’t seem like it’d be that long, BUT TRUST ME, IT CAN BE), when the toppats come for Charles, they find him standing, waiting for them. 

This time is different, though. 

Right is with them and approaches the empty eyed, silent Charles. 

“Learned your lesson?” 

Charles nods. 

Right holds out his hand, a smirk on his face. 

“Whaddaya say, kid? You want in?” 

CUT TO HENRY

Our multilived friend is lying in bed, having a very fitful sleep. I keep jumping to what we would see if we were watching a movie, but trust me on this, I think you'll really like this one.

In this dream, Henry stands in the middle of four mirrors, a different "ending" of him in the side mirrors and the ine behind him. In front of him is himself, on his left is the Toppat King ending of himself(I'm just calling him Toppat Henry), on his right is the Toppat Recruit endimg of himslef(Recruit Henry), and behind him is his Revenged self.

"You should've taken that offer," Toppat Haenry chides.

"Charles would've been safe, if you did," Recruit Henry adds with a shrug.

Henry hears his Revenged self cough behind him and hears his augmentations whirring. "We wouldn't be friends, if that happend."

"And that bothers you?" Toppat Henry laughs.

"Think about it," Recruit Henry says very smugly. "Since when have you needed friends?"

"Escaping the wall-"

"You got out alone before," Toppat Henry says with a tap to his hat.

Henry jumps when he hears glass shattering and turns to see his Revenged self has punched his mirror and cracked it.

"King, recruit, theif, it doesn't matter," he gurgles as blood oozes out if his mouth. "A toppat never keeps his word."

Revenged Henry hits hus mirror again and causes it to shatter, forcing our Henry to jump back and crash into his own mirror-

Henry wakes up and looks around his room, shaken and stirred. He checks his arm and back before sighing and hugging his knees to his chest.

"I hate when that happens."

Man, that was a psychedelic ending!

BUT THAT’S A WRAP ON TOPPAT!CHARLES PART 5!!!! 

This took a very, very, very, very, very, very, VEEEEERY long time, but here it is! 

Thank you all so much for your patience and following this series. I am having such a blast writing this, you have no idea. 

Thank you all for reading! Stay safe out there! And HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!!🦃🦃🦃

[sophisticatedloserchick]

Fanfic - One Night; Two Interesting Men - 1/1

Summary: In the course of one night Iris gets to know the two new men in her life; billionaire Barry Allen and Green Arrow. 

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4011

A/N: A sequel to my Barry!GreenArrow fic “Kissing Green Arrow Under the Mistletoe”

The first thing Iris noticed about Starling City after she moved is that it rained a lot.

For the past week she'd live here Iris woke up to the sound of rain pelting against the glass of her window. This city seemed to constantly be under the cover of dark grey rain clouds, a stark contrast to Central City where the sun always shined. It gave Starling City the appearance of coldness that would get under your skin.

Not for the first time Iris wondered if she made the wrong choice moving here. When the opportunity to be Starling City's correspondent for Picture News Iris took it to the surprise of everyone. Her friends thought she was crazy. Her dad worried that she was going through some sort of a crisis. Iris didn't know what The Flash thought nor did she care to find out.

Maybe some would say she moved to Starling City for a man, two men if Iris was being honest, but that wasn't the full story. Iris moved here because she felt this is where she could make a difference. To be the type of journalist that brought down those in power who preyed on the weak. She didn't think she could achieve any of that in Central City which is why she left.

But she wouldn't deny there was a pull of getting to see billionaire playboy Barry Allen or the masked vigilante Green Arrow again.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris sipped at her coffee while going over the papers she had spread out over the table. She'd been tracking a new drug that had hit the streets in the last month. A strong opiate highly addictive that had devastating consequences. No one knew the source of the drugs making it harder to stop the constant flow of it into the city

Lost in her own thoughts Iris didn't hear knocking at her office door.

“Miss West?” Her assistant kept calling out. “Miss West do you have a moment?”

Iris blinked back into reality and turned to see her assistant standing in the doorway holding a crystal glass vase that held a large bouquet of red roses. Iris already knew which one of her admirers had sent them to her.

“These came for you,” Her assistant said while struggling to carry the heavy bouquet over to the desk.

Iris reached over to pluck the card out from the roses to read the note.

'Dinner tonight? - B.A.'

“Wow you got Barry Allen asking you out on a date,” Iris's assistant gushed. “You're so lucky.”

Iris rolled her eyes even though deep down she felt charmed by the gesture. Not everyday you got flowers from a man who's yearly earnings was more than most countries. But Iris needed more than flowers to be convinced to go to dinner with man regardless of the money he had, or how cute he was.

“What are you going to say?” The assistant asked eagerly.

“Nothing,” Iris put the card back in the bouquet.

“Nothing??” Her assistant looked at Iris like she was crazy, “You have to tell him something.”

Iris walked back over to her work without a second glance at her flowers, “If a man wants to ask me out to dinner he should do it face to face.”

“Um well about that...”

Iris glanced over at her assistant only to have her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the familiar tall figure standing in the doorway.

“Guess you don't like flowers too much,” Barry smirked at her.

“I like them just fine,” Iris squared her shoulders off. “Just not when a man uses them as an excuse not to put in an effort.”

Barry laughed under his breath as he walked further into her office. Her assistant scurried away leaving them alone. The two of them eyed each other both speculative and appreciative.

A month had passed since they had last seen each other at the gala. He still looked handsome even without a tux because he looked just as good in a well tailored suit. His auburn hair in that intentional mussed up way. And something about his green eyes kept drawing her in.

“Working hard?” Barry gestured towards all the papers spread out across her desk.

“Its what a good reporter does,” Iris replied simply. Her brows furrowed together as Barry stared at her paperwork longer then she expected. The movement of his eyes gave the impression that he was carefully scanning every word.

“What about you?” Iris asked trying to get his attention again. “Spend a productive day on your yacht?”

“Not quite,” Barry briefly glanced up at her. “Morning at the golf course then in the afternoon a boring meetings at my company.”

“I guess most meetings at billion dollar companies would be boring,” Iris said sarcastically.

Barry finally looked up from her papers with a smile on his lips that made her heart beat faster.

“You know if you're going to scold me it be better if you did it over dinner,” Barry gave her a knowing look.

“You still want to go out for dinner?” Iris folded her arms over her chest. “Won't that interrupt your 'busy' schedule?”

“Well I did buy the flowers and all,” Barry gave her a boyish grin that she had no doubt he knew was irresistible. “Be a shame for them to go to waste.”

Which is how against her better judgement Iris agreed to go on a date with Barry Allen.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Barry hadn't been this on edge for a long time.

Which said a lot because Barry on a regular day dealt with corrupt politicians, drug kingpins, and ancient ninja clans. For years he had survived on a island that every day challenged his survival. Going out on a date with a beautiful and intelligent woman should be easy. Yet here he was sweating bullets in his suit, fidgeting nervously with a napkin at the table, all the while trying (but failing) to subtly glance at the restaurant entrance to see if Iris arrived.

None of this was doing his suave and cool playboy image any favors. Barry had worked hard to convince the people of Star City that he was a shallow and self-indulgent playboy they all expected him to be. Its what made his nightly activities as Green Arrow possible.

The fact that going on a date with Iris West put a chink in that facade should be a concern for him. He should listen to Diggle's warnings about the dangers of getting involved with a woman whose job was to seek out and expose the truth behind lies. Barry couldn't deny that Diggle had a good point that Iris West was dangerous.

But one look into Iris's dark brown eyes and Barry didn't think any man alive could resist her.

His head jerked when he caught the faint sound of her voice. His keen senses proving useful even in the setting of the restaurant.

He spotted the maitre'd helping her out of her coat. She picked a simple strapless navy blue dress that exposed the smooth brown skin of her shoulders. The soft silk fabric hugged her curves perfectly making his heart pound faster in his chest.

Oh yeah he was in big trouble.

“Sorry I'm late,” Iris said giving him that mega-watt smile of hers.

Barry remained silent and composed while the maitre'd helped her into her chair. Most would take that as him being unaffected but truly he was doing everything possible to hold it together. One look at her and Barry could feel his tenuous grip on his control slip. She looked like something out of a dream. Her full lips painted a light pink. Her long dark waves of hair piled up in a bun that showed the the heart shaped curves of her face.

“So,” Iris gave him a perplexed look since he hadn't spoken yet. “I would say I'm impressed you got the best table in the most expensive restaurant in town but you are Barry Allen after all.”

“The benefits of owning the place,” Barry said with what he hoped was a confident smirk.

Iris rolled her eyes but a smile still tugged at her lips.

The rest of the evening went fairly smoothly. Iris was quickly becoming his favorite person to talk to. She had knowledge on a wide range of topics from the latest blockbuster movie to the recent politics at Star City hall. She spoke concisely but thoughtfully with a sharp sense of humor that had Barry laughing more than once. He did his best to keep up with her not wanting her to think he was a dumb playboy who didn't know anything beyond his golf game or which model was on the cover of Sports Illustrated this month. He loved making her laugh too. Her eyes crinkled and she laughed with her entire body.

Before Barry knew it the maitre'd was bringing them coffee and that night's dessert. He became momentarily mesmerized as Iris hummed in pleasure while eating chocolate mousse. His mind drifted to more forbidden thoughts of how he would be the one to get her to moan in pleasure.

He debated if it be too forward to ask her over to his place. So far he'd been lucky that no criminal activity required him to suit up as Green Arrow. He might not get another opportunity and if the way Iris kept casually touching his arm and her eyes drifting to his lips he had a feeling she felt just as attracted to him as he was to her.

Before he could find a way to go about it Iris's phone dinged.

“Sorry,” Iris shot him an apologetic look as she fished her phone out of her purse. “I leave it on for works reasons.”

Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked at her phone screen. Barry noted her entire body went rigid. He could tell her mind was running through a million thoughts but none of them involved him or their date.

“I'm sorry,” Iris forced a smile as she looked back up at him. “I have to cut the night short.”

“Is everything okay?” Barry asked as she hastily got up from her chair.

“Yes of course it is,” She reassured him. “The work of a reporter never ends.”

Barry stood up and followed her to the entrance of the restaurant. He helped her into her coat letting his hands linger on her shoulders and arms. Iris turned back to look at him with eyes soft with guilt and he knew she felt bad for leaving.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Iris gave a shy smile. “I hope we can do it again.”

“I'd love that,” Barry said sincerely. “We can have dinner on my private yacht if you want.”

“You're something else Barry Allen,” Iris laughing. “I have a feeling dating you will be very interesting.”

Barry hoped he didn't let it show on his face how ecstatic he was that Iris thought of them as 'dating'.

He watched her leave with restaurant with a big smile on his face and a warmth spreading in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time being with someone made him this happy.

But even in this moment Barry's instincts kicked into gear. Iris's reaction to that text troubled him. His night as Barry Allen might have ended but Green Arrow's was just beginning.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris wondered why dangerous drug dealers couldn't meet up in more respectable places. A coffee shop or some brightly lit street where people felt safe enough to walk their dogs. No they always had to meet up in abandoned warehouses in shipyards after midnight.

Not to mention it was a particular cold night. A harsh wind came off the ocean cutting through her. She could tell from the heavy clouds that it would rain again soon. Luckily Iris had changed into a pair of jeans and sweatshirt  that she kept stashed in her car because as a journalist you never knew when a change of clothes would come in handy.  

Iris stood outside watching the top drug dealers of the city walk into the building. All she needed was to get pictures of them all meeting here. From there she would investigate how they kept funneling drugs into the city. But the distance and the fog in the air made it difficult for her to do it from her position. Which left her no choice but to get in closer.

Taking in a deep breath Iris made her way across the ship yard to the warehouse. She had spotted one armed guard at the front so she circled around to the back. Luckily the door had only a basic lock that Iris could easily pick open. After quietly prying open the metal door Iris slipped inside.

With her back against the wall she slowly made her way through the darkness. Distantly she could hear the sound of men talking. Following the sound Iris could see them gathered around a table. Iris noticed the guns on the table, along with a black duffel bag no doubt filled with money.

Carefully Iris took out her phone and started to take pictures. Her eyes tracking each person waiting until the right moment to get the shot. Her heart pounding from both fear and adrenaline. Normally Iris never took risks like this but maybe something about being in Star City made him a bit more reckless.

Completely focused on taking pictures Iris didn't notice the tall dark figure coming up from behind her. Iris let out a sound of surprise that was quickly smothered by a leather clad hand covering her mouth. His other hand grabbed her right arm and pulled her back further into the shadows.

“Don't move,” a gruff but familiar voice said in her ear.

Despite the shadows covering them both Iris could tell it was the Green Arrow. She'd probably should be more panicked that she was at the mercy at the city's most notorious vigilante but him saving her a month ago at the Allen Christmas gala had her trusting him. Besides not many would complain their body being pressed up against a handsome masked avenger.

Seconds letter it became clear why he pulled her away. A very large, heavily armed guard walked right by where Iris originally stood. If it hadn't been for the Green Arrow she would of been caught.

The Green Arrow's grip on her loosened enough for her to turn around. Iris could barley make out his face with the mask covering the top half but she could see the lips that had kissed her under the mistletoe.

Green Arrow inclined his head signaling her to follow him. Quickly the two made their way to a door that led up to a dimly lit stairwell. This is probably when Iris's self preservation instincts should of kicked in. Her dad would have a fit if he ever found out she followed a strange leather wearing man with a habit of shooting people with arrows to a more secluded place. But Iris had always a living in the moment kind of girl.

After a silent climb up the flights of stairs they went through another door to the roof of the building. Iris felt a relief at the cold wind against her face. A quick scan of the roof Iris spotted two guards knocked out, bound and gagged at the far corner no doubt the work of Green Arrow.

“You're taking a lot of risks,” Green Arrow finally spoke up.

Iris squared her shoulders off as she turned to look at him. From her dad to The Flash she had men telling her all her life what not to do. She might find Green Arrow attractive but she wasn't about to let him try to do the same.

“It was worth the risk,” Iris argued back. “The men down there are destroying lives for profit and someone needs to do something.”

“That someone had to be you?” Green Arrow crossed his arms over his chest.

“No one else came here tonight,” Iris countered. “The cops are in over their heads. The mayor's office is corrupt. Star City doesn't have have a hero like Flash or Supergirl to defend them. All this city has is me and you.”

Green Arrow took a moment to process what she said before he spoke again in a less put on gruff voice.

“You don't think I'm a superhero?”

Iris had to try hard not to laugh at how put out he sounded.

“I think of you as more a vigilante. Because no offense,” Iris gestured to his black and dark green leather costume complete with mask and hood. “You don't come across as a family friendly superhero.”

Iris couldn't be completely certain because of how dark it was but she swore she saw him pouting.

“What do you plan to do with those pictures?” Arrow finally asked.

“Publish them,” Iris said. “Let the whole city know who has been destroying their neighborhood by pushing their drugs.”

“That will do nothing,” Green Arrow replied simply.

“What would you have me do?” Iris narrowed her eyes. “Turn them over to the police?”

“No that would put a target on your back,” Green Arrow said in a voice Iris thought she could hear concern in. “The police force has its fair share of corrupt cops that work as informants for the drug cartels.”

Green Arrow now walked towards her but Iris held her ground. She kept flashing back to the night of the gala when he'd kissed her under the mistletoe. The soft feel of his lips contrasting with the hard edge of his appearance. Iris felt that flutter of anticipation once again the closer he got to her.

“Keep the pictures to yourself for now,” Green Arrow spoke lowly despite them only being inches apart. “Help me figure out who the informants are in the police then we'll go after the cartels and their leaders.”

“You want my help?” Iris asked taken a back.

In vain she tried to look up into his eyes but the hood and mask obscured his face. She should of felt scared this tall imposing figure towering over but something in Iris compelled her to trust him.

“I need your help,” Green Arrow finally answered.

Iris couldn't explain what came over her. It was as if a temporary madness washed over her. Or maybe deep down she wanted confirmation that she'd feel the same rush of electricity as she did when they kissed under the mistletoe months ago. After all she was a reporter who investigated till she got the answer she wanted.

Both her hands went to his shoulders as she went on her toes to reach him. The Green Arrow had a startled look on his face (that Iris took great pride in cracking his usual stoic demeanor) that quickly turned to understanding when Iris pressed her lips against his.

Her arms curled themselves more securely around his neck as the kiss deepened. His own arms wrapped around her waist holding her close and keeping her in place. Iris felt as though she was flouting as he lifted her several inches off the ground.

His lips moved against her perfectly. He seemed to know exactly how to kiss with the right amount of coaxing and demand. His teeth biting hard on her lower lips only for his tongue to swipe over the mark he left behind. Every cell in Iris's body felt electrified. Her sensations heightened by being pressed into his body.

When they finally pulled apart Iris felt dizzy and her skin felt hot to the touch. Despite them being in a less than romantic setting on the roof of a warehouse with unconscious guards several feet away and a meeting of drug lords taking place inside but if Green Arrow wanted to take things further she'd let him.

“I need to go,” Green Arrow said in a voice thick with want. Iris could feel his eyes staring at her lips.

“Right now?” Iris asked hopefully.

For a second the Green Arrow seemed to angle his head down as if to kiss her again but suddenly he let her go.

Iris could feel the heaviness of the cold night more acutely without him being close to her.

“Leave out the same back door you came in,” Green Arrow instructed. “I'll make sure no one follows you,”

“What about the information I need,” Iris pressed having no intention of him thinking that the kiss would make her forget their deal.

“I'll make sure you get it,” He said in return.

Iris could tell by the finality in his voice that nothing else would be discussed or done tonight. Which made her feel a little disappointed and a little regretful she kissed him in the first place.

Without a word Iris turned and left out the door they came through. Not once looking back to see if he made good on his promise to keep watch but she felt his eyes on her all the same.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iris got back to her apartment as the sky had began to turn pale grey. A light rain had started to fall leaving Iris damp and cold and very grateful to be back home. Iris shrugged off her jacket and walked over to collapse on the couch. Her body felt like dead weight but her mind kept running with thoughts over what happened.

Last night had been both long and exhilarating. Her date with Barry Allen went far better then she expected. She was now not only attracted to him but enjoyed talking with him in an open and real way. Iris hadn't dated seriously for years but she could see herself being with him despite his reputation as a billionaire playboy.

Then there was Green Arrow. A man that Iris really should avoid being alone with. As much as she respected what he did for the city she wasn't about to put on her rose colored glasses and believe he could do no wrong. But at the same time she wanted to help him with his mission to save Star City.

One night, two very interesting men that Iris didn't know how to feel about.

Iris reached over to check her phone a little surprised to see a text message from Barry.

Barry: I know this might seem forward but can I take you for breakfast?

Iris smiled as she read the text and without thinking about the time instantly called him.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” Barry answered when he picked up the call.

“What do you mean? You texted me remember,” Iris scoffed.

“I didn't think you get back to me at 5 in the morning,” Barry replied is amusement.

Iris cringed and silently cursed hoping he didn't think she was a complete freak.

“Sorry I don't keep regular people hours,” Iris rushed to explain.

“Its fine, neither do I. Its not uncommon for me to be up all night and getting no sleep.”

“From all your partying with super models and celebrities right?” Iris teased.

“Yeah,” Barry laughed with an edge Iris couldn't decipher. “Something like that.”

The two of them made plans to meet up at diner down town in an hour. Iris pushed herself off the couch to make her way to take a shower. She probably shouldn't of agreed to meet up with him but she felt compelled to see him again.

She had a feeling that Barry Allen would be no different from the Green Arrow as a man she had her misgivings about but couldn't stay away from.

[bluefurcape]

When It Rains

This was a prompt from @itslulu42 on discord and I don’t think you’ll remember giving it but I started immediately then forgot about it. Then I came back to it and my note on it said “Smooth jazz kakashi” and I of course had to start back in bc I needed to know what happened next. 

I think the prompt was something along the lines of Amnesia, but instead of angsting Kakashi keeps hitting on Sakura. Part one of...three maybe. And vaguely i mixed in a KS Month prompt but now it’s too late and guess i’ll just die.

Haruno Sakura had known Kakashi since she was twelve years old. And he had known her since he was…well, she wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, since he never divulged that. The only reason any of the former members of Team 7 Kakashi knew his birthday was the success of an elaborate ruse enacted a long time ago, involving Icha Icha, balloon animals, and a knife.

Kakashi smiled at her without recognition, his eyes crinkling pleasantly. From his bed, he looked around the hospital room and the people gathered with mild curiosity. There was a faded yellow bruise exactly the size of an egg on his forehead, an injury that Sakura had healed only moments ago. Despite the stifling heat of summer outside, the air conditioning kept the room comfortably cool. The sweat that had dampened her clothes on her walk over to the hospital was almost making her chilly.

She took a deep breath, recounting the facts as they had been told to her, because she was having trouble processing. “Kakashi and Gai were doing one of their stupid bets.”

“Right,” Shikamaru said.

“And they were climbing Kakashi’s face on the Hokage monument,” she continued and he made a noise of confirmation. “They saw a nest of what they thought was a rare extinct bird and decided to check it out.” Slowly she began to shake her head. “The rare bird has an ability to take away memories. Kakashi and Gai forgot who they were and fell off the monument. The only reason they’re still alive is because you were nearby, playing hooky, and you managed to shadow grab the two of them.”

Shikamaru nodded.

“And how did Kakashi get this enormous welt on his head?” she asked.

“He may have bounced on some rocks before I got to him.” He looked away, shrugging in feigned innocence. If he thought that Sakura would reproach him, he was wrong, because Kakashi definitely deserved more than few knocks to the skull. Especially for this particular mess.

“Shikamaru?”

“Yes?”

“This is really bad.”

“I know, Sakura.”

“Really, really bad.” Sakura began to pace the length of the room, from the window to the opposite wall. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting when she received the urgent summons on her day off, but it wasn’t this. “So unbelievably bad. The Kage coalition arrives today. They’re going to be expecting Kakashi to be making a speech in a week. He can’t make a speech when he’s a drooling idiot!”

“Hey, I’m not drooling,” Kakashi piped up, highly offended. In a lower voice, he asked, “I’m Kakashi, right?”

She was somewhat relieved that he could still talk. All the stupidly vacant smiling was giving her suspicions otherwise. As a test, in case this was some kind of elaborate joke courtesy of Shikamaru, she asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“No, but I’d like to,” he responded automatically.

Her jaw dropped and then she shut it. “Excuse me?”

Shikamaru cleared his throat, but it sounded more like strangled laughter that he choked back down.

“My priorities are a little off here, but would you be interested going out to dinner with me?” Kakashi asked.

“Ask me again when you get your memories back,” she said flatly.

“Well, that’s very good motivation.”

Sakura turned to Shikamaru and widened her eyes. She knew something had been up when Kakashi and Gai had been admitted to the hospital and no one was allowed to treat them or see to them until she personally arrived, even though she had not been actively treating patients, except when her expertise was required, since her promotion to medical director. Her mind had reeled with worst case scenarios, disembowelment, lost limbs, broken spines. Instead, she walked in and Kakashi waved to her, a nasty welt on his temple, but otherwise whole, according to her diagnostic check. Gai was in the same state. Physically, nothing was wrong with either of them, they just had the misfortune of running into a magic memory thieving bird.

“You weren’t called in just to check on his health,” Shikamaru said, leaning against the window sill. “The Council is giving you an assignment. Obviously, we need you to monitor the Rokudaime in case his condition deteriorates. The second thing is that you need to try and jog his memory and bring him back.”

Her instinct was to question the choice. He had been her captain and they had an easy relationship, but she barely knew him. Kakashi kept his secrets close and it made small talk with him a bitch, because he apparently considered everything a secret. Still, she understood the reasoning behind the assignment. Kakashi didn’t have any family left. His father had passed when he was only a child. His mother, even earlier. As far as she knew, he had no relatives in Konoha who could tell him familiar stories. Naruto was often away on high ranking missions and there was no telling when he would return.

She turned to Kakashi, who was watching her with a smile. “I’ll try my best,” she said doubtfully. She glanced at Gai. “What about him?”

“We thought it best to allow him some recovery time before calling in Lee.”

“…Good idea.” This would devastate Gai’s protege. A volcano of emotions was surely waiting.

#

“Ha-ru-no Sa-ku-ra,” Kakashi said, as if the syllables of her name were a song. He grinned, pleased with himself.

“Right. And your name is..?” Sakura gestured to him in encouragement.

“Uh…”

“Ha,” she prompted him with the first sound of his clan name.

“Ha…Ha…Haruno Kaku?”

“Hatake Kakashi,” she corrected patiently.

“I would much rather be Haruno Kakashi.”

She flushed, her face heating. “Well, you aren’t.”

“But there isn’t a Mr. Haruno Sakura around, right?”

Sakura bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh. Ever since he’d become her charge, the flirting had been incessant. She figured the magic bird had affected his impulse control in some way. However coming from him, the cheesy lines were actually kind of endearing. “No. No there isn’t.”

He nodded innocently, sitting primly on the ancient sofa in his apartment. His place was unsurprisingly neat, though all of the pieces of furniture looked at least a decade older than her, edges worn away and colors faded. It was also definitely a bachelor pad in every sense of the word. A narrow twin bed, suitable for one and only one. A closet full of the same articles of clothing.

When she entered the kitchen, she found a single set of utensils, a mug, a bowl, and a plate in the cupboard. Just to have something to do, she placed the kettle on the stove anyway to make some tea. One of them could use the bowl to drink out of. Did he never have people over? She tied up her sweaty hair and wished silently that she could at least take a shower. The council had laid down a strict water ration due to the extended drought this year. Bathing was restricted to about fifteen minutes and the mandate encouraged the villagers to go a few days in between. Her stink wasn’t too bad, as far as she could tell, but she missed standing under a nice stream of water and forgetting about the world.

She leaned against the counter, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling hopeless. She didn’t even know where to begin.

“Does any of this ring a bell?” she called out. All of this was a shot in the dark. Bring Kakashi to familiar places and see if anything happened was her general plan. She hated it because she loved real plans. Strategy with complexity. Tasks that could be conquered. Instead, she floundered, coming up with ideas on the fly.

“Nope,” was the cheerful response. At least he was taking this memory loss business in stride. If it were her, she would be freaking out at being completely untethered.

The kettle whistled and she poured the hot water out into the mug and the bowl. From one of the cupboards, she dug up a dented box of genmai and added the tea bags, letting the tan tendrils swirl. There was a solitary tray of ice in the freezer that she took a few cubes from, because she simply did not feel like drinking hot leaf juice in the middle of a drought. Out of curiosity, she checked the bottom part of the fridge too. A nearly empty carton of eggs and an old box of take out greeted her. The inside was bare bones. She was finally getting a glimpse behind the walls that Kakashi maintained and rather than a suave, older man like she had been half expecting, she was getting a sense of just how alone he was. Guilt twisted her lips into a frown. She could claim that she hadn’t known, but that was just an excuse. Her own life was a little more than she could handle. Late night shifts. The constant fires that needed to be put out. Kakashi had been there, quiet in the background, and her attention had glanced over him and determined him a lesser priority because honestly, he seemed fine.

She brought the tea over to the living room, offering  Kakashi the mug and taking the bowl for herself. He accepted the beverage then looked back at her and said, “Now, I know I don’t have any memories, but is it customary to drink from a bowl?”

“There weren’t any other cups,” she explained as she curled herself into the armchair perpendicular to the sofa.

“Hm. Okay.” He lowered the hospital mask and took a sip. When he noticed Sakura’s blatant stare, he cautiously asked, “What?”

Even without his memories, Kakashi had chosen to continue to wear the mask. He didn’t seem to notice it or question why he was wearing one.

She caught a glimpse his long, straight nose and lips that lifted in an easy smile. She was almost upset that she hadn’t known before that every time he shot a grin at her, the mask had hidden a set of slightly crooked teeth and a chipped canine that she found unnervingly charming. She wanted to cradle his face in her hands.

Part of her resisted telling him, craving the pleasure of simply seeing him. But it was only right that she tell him, rather than let him go on and act in a way that he would resent her for later. “You probably don’t know this, but you never show your face to anybody,” she said calmly, hiding the giddy urge to get on her feet and dance in her own personal victory.

He hummed to himself and tugged on the elastic strings of the mask hanging around his ear. “Never?”

She nodded her head.

“Is it because I’m ugly?” he asked, touching his lower lip as he frowned.

“No!” Her response was a little too emphatic, even to her own ears.

“Ah. Good.” He smiled again and her heart beat faster.

She was unused to feeling this way around him and she was both curious and disconcerted. To distract herself, she leaned over to the side table and picked up the only two photo frames that Kakashi seemed to possess.

The older one was a photo of his team when the Fourth had been his captain. It showed a young Kakashi glaring at the camera, standing next to a dark haired boy in goggles. The Fourth stood behind them, his hands affectionately ruffling their hair. The last member, a young girl with short brown hair, beamed in the front. She couldn’t help but notice the similarities between this photo and the other one, which was of Team 7 in the early days. A nostalgic smile played on her lips.

“Who are those people?” Kakashi peered over at the photographs.

“Your friends…” she responded tentatively, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

…those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

“Oh. Are they still around? Maybe they can help me get back my memory.”

She hesitated. She’d heard rumors of what had happened to Kakashi’s old team--none of it sounded happy. The dark haired boy must have been Obito, who would become the same man that Kakashi had thought dead and carried guilt over for decades. In a twist, Obito had turned out to be alive during all of that time, but even that was complicated and…he certainly was gone now. Of the four people in the photograph, Kakashi was the only survivor. Painful trauma didn’t seem like the best place to start with his memories.

She held up the photo of Team 7 instead, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her deliberate omission. Team 7 had gone through it’s own troubles, but the ending was happier. At least they had that. She pointed at their younger selves with exaggerated enthusiasm. “That’s you and me. The blond one is Naruto and the scowling one is Sasuke.”

“Sasuke looks like he has a stick up his ass,” he commented immediately.

“An accurate assessment.” She snorted. “You were my teacher and then later, my captain. Do you remember?”

He scratched his chin in thought. “Teacher, huh? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“On the first day I met you, you were very late, fell for Naruto’s stupid trick, and told us that you hated us.”

“Yikes.”

“And then you had Naruto tied up because he tried to cheat.”

Kakashi squinted at the picture. “Naruto’s the blond one, correct? The one who looks like he hasn’t realized that he’s crushing on the other one?”

Sakura blinked and looked for herself. “What.”

“How long ago was this picture taken?”

“Ten, I think.”

“So, are they married now? The hate sex must have been good.”

Her cheeks flushed. She did not want to think about two of her closest friends getting it on! “Gross. They aren’t together and you’re not allowed to talk about them like that. Sasuke is on some kind of redemption quest and Naruto is on a long term mission to the east.”

He made sarcastic air quotes as he said, “’Redemption quest.’”

“This isn’t working, let’s move on,” she grumbled.

[readiceprincess]

Chapter Seven

“Well at least now that you're in Reeve's clothes you don't stick out like a sore thumb,” Sibyl said as she walked with Reeve and Westley into the mall. Except he did stick out because he had cheekbones sculpted by angels and gawked at everything.

It was a small mall that closed at six every day and had little to offer save a large book store at one end and Macey’s at the other. Walking in, they were greeted with stomping and loud instruments. Sibyl groaned. The pep rally started at the mall before the band led everyone to school. Of course. How could she forget?

She grabbed Westley's arm and dragged him to Macy's. He was warm under her hold but shuddered when she touched him. Looking back, Sibyl caught Reeve talking to Mary. Something he said made her laugh. With a roll of the eyes she dragged Westley to the Junior's department.

“I picture you as kind of preppy,” she mumbled as she studied him in Reeve's v-neck and tight pants. Westley was more toned than Reeve, filling his clothes well. Hot damn.

“You dress pretty colorful in Faerie,” Sibyl noted with a gulp as she went to the polos. “What kind of colors do you like?”

“I wear the colors of my clan,” Westley explained. He motioned to Reeve's clothes, an emerald v-neck with cobalt stripes. “Not these colors. Though I'm partial to blue.”

“What are the colors of your clan?”

“Blue, yellow, and white.”

Shame. He’d look amazing in red. “Well I think you'll look good in some polos. I'll find some colors you might like. But I think these styles are too young for you.” She lead him to the pants section, pulling out a size and checking it against him. He made a face, shifting his weight between his feet. “We need to get you some well fitted jeans – Keep in mind this is coming out of my wallet.”

“What about that?”

“Hmm?” Sibyl followed his gaze as he walked up to a mannequin in the mens' section. It was dressed in a suave suit with a bow tie. This prince wasn't so bad. Dapper even.

“I can't afford that,” she told him as she came to his side and touched his arm. Westley flinched. “Sorry. Come on. Let's try these on.” When he didn't follow Sibyl turned back to him.

“I like it,” he admitted in a small voice followed by a small chuckle. “It's strange here. Nothing like Faerie.”

“You'll get used to it. Come on. This place closes soon.”

They walked to the dressing room. From there she handed him the clothes and waited outside, tapping her foot. Her hands flexed at her side.

“Am I to dress in these clothes all the time?” Westley asked from inside.

“Yeah. Sorry if you hate them.”

“On the contrary, they're rather comfortable. Though I must say, the clothes women wear in this world are odd,” he commented. A small smile formed on her face as Sibyl tapped her cowboy boots and played with the hem of her yellow dress.

“I guess we show more than they do in your world, eh?”

“Indeed. Such clothing wouldn't be suitable in Faerie Court.”

Voices outside caught her attention. Sibyl tip toed to the exit.

“I can't explain what she did to me.”

Freddie.

He was coming to the dressing room. Sibyl cursed under her breath, running back in and knocking on Westley's door. “Let me in,” she whispered. “Westley open up.”

He gasped. “I'm changing!”

“I won't look just open up.” The door swung open and Sibyl slammed it shut, standing on the seat and crouching down. She put a finger to her lips but used her other hand to usher him to continue changing.

“I will not,” he whispered.

Freddie and his friends walked into the dressing room. She put her palms together.

“Just act normal. I won't look,” she mouthed, closing her eyes and covering them with her hands.

Westley sighed, pulling off the light blue polo. He hesitated, watching to be sure she didn't see him, then tried to manage his pants zipper.

“The next time I see her, I'll give her a piece of my mind.” Freddie said, a door opening.

“Man it was weird. You were out all day.” That was his friend Zach.

“Such a freakazoid.” That was Teresa. If she could curl her hands into fists she would. “It’s weird how much she’s changed. I mean she’s like a completely different person now.” Teresa popped her gum.

“But still hot,” Freddie countered.

“Hey you can tap that if you want. I wouldn't. You've heard the rumors,” Zach replied. “Dude can you hurry up?”

“Seriously Freddie who comes to an event without the school colors on?” Teresa added.

“Sorry not all of us are prepared as you. This good?” A door opened and he walked out. Teresa popped her gum again.

“Good enough. Come on freakazoids,” she insisted, marching out.

Freddie went back to change and followed Zach out soon after. Sibyl refused to move until she was certain they were gone. Then she stumbled to the floor, shaking.

“Are you okay Miss Sibyl?” Westley asked, reaching for her arm. His touch was warm, soothing.

“Hmm?”

He was unbuttoning his shirt, his collarbone visible. It didn’t take a vivid imagination to guess under the shirt was a toned a sculpted body. How this guy was real was beyond her. Gulping, she looked away, still shaking. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Were they talking about you?”

Leaning against the wall, she let out a deep breath. “Yes.”

Westley paused. “No wonder you want to avoid them. Their English is rather poor.” Which made her chortle. He reached for her but she recoiled. Clearing his throat, he stepped back. “My apologies. Perhaps you should leave my dressing room so I can finish.”

Stepping out, Sibyl stared at the closed door. It wasn't Westley who made her recoil, but she wasn't sure how to communicate that without having an uncomfortable conversation. Her fingers prickled.

They were silent. Westley came out in a deep maroon polo shirt and dark pants. Just as she suspected, red looked amazing on him. It made his golden brown eyes vibrant. She half expected him to have this exotic color, but this was even better. “I like this one best.”

Sibyl stammered, taking him in. Wowza. “Yeah it suits you. I think you'll need a haircut too.” She reached out to play with his hair. But it was one of his best features. It’d be a shame to modernize it. A small smile crossed his face. “You still have the Victorian hair and those crazy sideburns, but that can wait.” He stared at his feet then peeked at her. “Oh I almost forgot. You sound too formal. The accent sounds kind of English.” She paused. “How do you know English?”

“Pardon?”

“English. I'd think being from another world would mean you speak a different language.”

“We've spoken English since the Order began. We also speak French and some areas speak German. Some of us still speak Faerie. There are different languages for different regions. Like here, I suppose.”

She nodded, tapping her chin. “Okay. And I have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“How old are you?” Before he could protest she countered with, “I know it's rude to ask, Westley, but it's important I know.”

Westley opened his mouth to counter her, then clamped it shut, his shoulders falling. “Twenty-three years.”

Well that explained why he wasn’t burdened with teenage baby face syndrome. “Yeah now you're seventeen. Got it? And you're from England and you're part of a student exchange program. We're friends. Okay?” Sibyl reached past him and grabbed the clothes he tried on. “Tell me which you like best.” One by one she held them up and he wrinkled his nose or smiled in response.

Once done, Westley asked, “Am I to wear this the rest of the night?”

“Yes, but go back inside and change out of them. Wait for me and I'll pay.”

She stopped. He must have Victorian undergarments. He'd need boxers. Blushing, she shoved the thought aside. Reeve could help him get those. Westley held the clothes out for her and she grabbed them, her face burning. “I'll be back.”

Poking her head out, she scanned the area for Freddie. There was no sign of Reeve either. Jerk. Once she was certain it was empty she walked to the register and paid.

The band was gone and with no Reeve around she'd be stuck with Westley. Well he wasn't too bad. Not bad to look at, that's for sure. But where would they go? The Aislin's? Her place?

Sibyl froze with the clothes in hand. Rose. If she went to her house Rose would be there. And then what? Rose must have been from Faerie too, or knew something about it. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

When she returned the clothes to Westley and he was ready the stores were closing. Sibyl dragged him out since he kept wanting to try on suits. Outside the band echoed into the still night, like a far off possibility they couldn’t grasp. Westley turned to her with raised brows. “Where to Miss Sibyl?”

****

“Josephine? Luther?” Sibyl called as she opened the front door. They stepped in, scanning the area for any sign of the two. “Hello?”

Clang! Footsteps ran up the stairs, and the door on the side of the staircase opened, Josephine appearing. Her eyes widened when she saw Westley.

“Your highness! You look fantastic,” she complimented with a thumbs up. Then her smile faltered. “Where's Reeve?”

“He left with Mary to the pep rally. The little jerk left me to babysit,” Sibyl replied.

“I'm not a baby. I'm older than you,” Westley shot back.

Sibyl grabbed his cheek. He flinched and shot her a playful glare. “Aw poor baby. Does baby need a nap?”

Josephine looked between the two but sighed, flailing her arms at her side. “Sorry about Reeve,” she mumbled. “He’s a little too nice for his own good. Knowing him he probably didn’t have the heart to say no to Mary, too scared he’ll hurt her feelings.”

Sibyl stopped. “And here I thought he was just a flirt.”

“Reeve?” Josephine snorted, which seemed almost out of character of her. “No way. He just likes to make people happy.”

“The more you know. Anyway, where's Luther?”

“Oh he's downstairs trying to get everything ready for you to get tested tonight.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Tonight? Doesn't that seem a bit fast? I feel like I need more time to adjust and stuff.”

“I know but the sooner we get it done the better.”

With a sigh she leaned against Westley who had no idea what to do with himself. “How long will it take?”

“No more than an hour.”

“I guess if I must,” Sibyl replied, again wondering about Rose. Maybe Rose had the answers. It was worth trying, but not with the Aislins around. Actually, maybe it was best not to tell them about her in the first place. She walked into the living room, Westley following with a pained expression.

“Are all houses like this?”

“No. And now that you mention it this place needs some work. People will get suspicious if they realize you guys aren't trying to clean up,” Sibyl said, wiping some dust off a portrait on the wall. Westley sneezed.

Josephine's forehead wrinkled as her eyebrows turned upward. “You think so? But we can't afford to fix it.”

“Then I'll help out. I’m gonna ask for more hours anyway. They won’t let me in Honors Society with a suspension.” Which was going to be a thrill to explain to Celia when she came to. Her stomach rumbled and her gaze flickered to the kitchen. “What do you have to eat?”

“Uhh…”

“Just what I thought. Oh the travesty.” Sibyl dramatized, her hand on her forehead. “I guess we’ll have to try something else.”

Josephine sucked in her cheeks. “I don’t think we can go out.”

“The diner’s closed anyway,” Sibyl replied, dropping her hand and her act.  “Unless you want Subway, which is the only other place here. Oh and McDonald’s. But that’s okay we can work something out. Westley are you hungry?”

“I'm famished,” Westley added.

Josephine turned to him, biting her lip. “I'm not sure you'll like our food.”

He waved her off. “If there are Fae who can live amongst your kind and deal with your food then so can I. Come. I insist we get a meal. I'm sure Miss Sibyl has a nicer home and a good chef.” He stood, offering his arm to Josephine.

Well not a chef but a weird relative who never left her room. A relative who might be from Faerie. Sibyl turned to Westley. “I don’t think we should go to my house.”

“Why not?” Westley asked.

Because of Rose and her wrinkled nose. “I have a place we can go. I mean it’s a bit of a long shot. I just need to pick up things from my place and we can go,” she forced out, the gears in her head working. If they suspected she was hiding something then she’d have to think of a valid excuse. Something…

“Alright. Lead the way. Let me just tell Luther,” Josephine agreed. “Westley why don’t you go with Sibyl to pick up the stuff from her home.” For a second their eyes met and she thought Josephine was trying to tell her something, like she knew. Sibyl kept her expression blank, or as blank as she could remember was physically possible.

“We’ll come back from you,” she told Josephine before motioning for Westley to follow her out the door and to her truck. If he noticed how she gulped and her hands quivered he didn’t show it. Not that she had any real reason to be nervous. It wasn’t like there was any proof Rose was involved in this. If she was in the Order they had to know, but what if this was all a trick and Rose had the real answers? Maybe it was just best to keep them in the dark about her.

When she pulled into her home she peeked up at the windows. Sure enough, Rose’s light was on. Sibyl mouthed a curse and unbuckled. “One minute. You can just wait here,” she told him. Westley just nodded, staring at her house. It must have paled in comparison to his castle. Or castles.

Sibyl walked out of the car and to her door. When she opened the front door she paused at the doorway, stepping in to be sure Rose wasn’t downstairs. The house was empty, untouched. Letting out the breath she was holding, Sibyl walked to the kitchen and pulled out a basket from the closet. She put in pots, pans, knifes, aprons, and got a bag of whatever stuff she could find to make dinner. They had three potatoes, a little bit of rice, chicken, onions, and tomato sauce. Perfect.

First she carried out the basket, putting it in the tiny backseat. Westley watched with a quirked brow but she waved him off before he could offer his assistance. It was better this way. Then she ran back in to grab the food bag.

“Going somewhere?”

Sibyl jumped, dropping the bag and cringing at the sound of the sauce jar hitting the kitchen island. Then she sighed and put her palms on the counter. “Do you always sneak up like that?”

“Why are you being so sneaky with the food?” Rose questioned, leaning against the door frame leading to the back hallway. She wore a black silk robe with floral embroidery, her hair up in a teal retro turban as she wore big teardrop shaped earrings. Despite being so casual she was the poster child for class and still had perfect makeup.

“I’m just going out with some friends. We’re gonna have a potluck,” she fibbed, giving her a thin smile. “There’s plenty of food here for you.”

Before she could leave Rose swept in front of her, hands on her hips. “You’re coming home rather late from school. Where have you been all day?”

“Why so curious? I was out with friends, obviously.” And discovering magical worlds while also bringing a Faerie prince to earth.

Her eyes narrowed. “And here I thought you didn’t have any friends.” How would she know that? There was a pang in her heart.

“Well things change,” she replied, again with the thin smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go.”

Sibyl stepped around her to leave when Rose grabbed her arm and leaned into her ear. “I have eyes everywhere Sibyl. You can’t hide it forever.”

Maybe if she wasn’t kissed by ice she’d shiver at her breath or cringe at her frost tipped grip. Her fingers throbbed, and when she cast a glance back at Rose’s black eyes she knew this woman was one of them. But whether or not she trusted her was another question.

Rose let her go, raising her chin as if understanding something. She fought a smile and crossed her arms. “Have fun with your little friends. I’m going to bed. I don’t care for your mortal rules on time.” With one last smug glance Rose left the kitchen and went up the stairs. Sibyl watched, rubbing the spot where she gripped her.

She flicked off bits of frost from where Rose grabbed her.

****

Sibyl couldn’t get her mind off of Rose’s warning. Was she being literal or just trying to scare her? Westley fidgeted beside her as they waited for Josephine in the driveway. Reeve still hadn’t shown up, but based on the time he had another hour at the pep rally. Maybe more if he went to hang out with Mary and her friends.

“We’re are we going?” Westley asked, fidgeting and playing with the buckle.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, looking him up and down. His cheeks turned pink, and internally she screamed at how cute it was. So far there were two sides to Westley, too hot to be real and awkward dork.

“Your carriage is strange. We have horseless carriages too, but they don’t smell and aren’t like this,” he confessed in a small voice. Was he scared?

“Oh. Sorry if it bothers you. And sorry about the smell. That’s gasoline. It stinks, eh?”

Westley avoided eye contact. “Indeed it does. Let’s go for another mode of transportation.”

Sibyl’s brows furrowed. Was that an order? Then she snorted, catching his attention so his gold eyes were on her once more. “Uh no. We stick to my truck. Her name is Sylvia by the way. Be nice to Sylvia.”

“Miss Sibyl I must insist-”

“Hey guys,” Josephine greeted from Sibyl’s window. “Ready?”

“You betcha. Westley get in the middle so Josephine can sit next to you. Come on, it’ll be a bit tight.” Westley gawked at her so she gave him a sugar sweet smile.

“Miss Sibyl-”

Josephine came in and his warm arms brushed her skin, a shudder of warm sliding down her back. “You’re so warm. Thank goodness too. It was getting cold in here, don’t you think Josephine?”

The girl caught on, giving him a honeysuckle sweet smile. “And you do have beautiful eyes your highness.”

“Let’s not forget how strong you are,” Sibyl added, feeling his arms. Dang he had nice biceps. Westley blushed.

“Well now Miss Sibyl-”

“You can call us by our first names. No 'miss' necessary, sugar,” Josephine interrupted, flashing her best smile. Westley's neck turned red. Sibyl turned on the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

“If you insist-”

“Just so you guys know I brought the stuff to make dinner. And I got us three aprons. Don’t touch my batman apron and we’ll have fun tonight.”

“What? You expect me to cook?” Westley gasped.

“We’re all going to cook, your highness. Team effort here. We’re all equal in my house. Except we’re not going to my house. We’re going to my second home.” Josephine raised her eyebrows at this but Sibyl didn’t elaborate further, turning on the radio and her iPod. Westley didn’t make any more protestations as the music played, Meg & Dia serenading them on their drive.

When they pulled in Josephine cast her a confused glance, eyes demanding an explanation but Sibyl just turned off the car and sighed. “I told you my mom made costumes right?” Her eyes didn’t leave the building, which was empty, a sign advertising the upcoming spring musical dates.

“I thought it was for the historical society,” Josephine replied.

“It was. But most of the time it was for plays all over the state. Come on. I have the keys.” She unbuckled and got out of the car, grabbing the bag of food.  Josephine grabbed the basket and followed her as she made her way to the door. “They have music camp here in the summer so there are rooms to sleep and there’s a kitchen. Celia used to teach a dance and costuming class.”

When the door was unlocked she held it open for them and they followed, Westley eying it suspiciously. “You’re sure this is safe?”

“Just trust me,” she insisted, shoving him in and locking the door behind her.  Josephine turned on the lights, posters of past shows staring down at them. Sibyl lead the way down the hall past the theater, dressing rooms, concessions, and offices. She unlocked another door and brought them to the barracks. “This is where camp is. If you know drama kids you get why they lock these doors.”

“You helped your mom?” Josephine asked, turning on a hallway light and following her to a mess hall and kitchen.

“When she needed me. I can’t sew much like her but I can do little things. And I was in pit sometimes, or I helped with the dance classes. Just whatever,” Sibyl replied. “She was also in charge of cooking, and if you’ve had Celia’s food you’d understand why she needed help.”

“So you cook.”

“No Thomas does, my dad. Again, I just helped whenever. But I learned a few things here and there,” she explained, placing the back on the kitchen island. Sibyl grabbed her batman apron and tossed a floral one to Westley. Josephine grabbed a white one with ‘Kiss the Cook’ written across it.

Westley was silent, taking his time to put on the colorful apron. Back to his awkward side, he lingered by the doorway gawking at the place. It was like he was discovering a new world. A small smile curved the corner of his lips. Sibyl tied up her hair, watching as he warmed to his surroundings.

“You okay?” she asked.

He met her gaze, a wide smile crossing his face. “It's just... I'm being treated like a normal person. Not-”

“A prince?” Sibyl finished, taking the food out of the bag.

“Yes. It feels nice.” Westley said. “Thank you.”

Something about the way he looked at her made her catch her breath. There was a light in his eyes. “No problem.”

“I hope you two know how to cook. Or at least Josephine,” she told them as she grabbed the cutting board and washed her hands.

“Reeve's the cook in our family,” Josephine admitted. “But I can still do some stuff.”

“Alright then you peel the potatoes,” Sibyl instructed, grabbing a bowl and putting the potatoes in before grabbing the potato peeler. “Wash them then put them in the bowl and peel. Oh, let me get you a plate for the peelings.”

Once everything was set up for Josephine she placed onions on the cutting board and grabbed a knife.

“I can cut them,” Westley offered, coming next to her.

“Are you sure? I don't know if they have onions in Faerie but they make people cry. Think you can handle it?”

Westley grabbed the knife. “I'll survive.”

“Alright, I'll work on the rice and meat. Get cookin' people.”

To their surprised it turned out to be a fun evening. Westley panicked when he started crying as he cut the onions and the girls laughed. Josephine kept getting distracted and almost burned the food. Yet decadent scents and warm laughter filled the mess hall.

“We need this in Faerie,” Westley proclaimed as they ate. “This is delicious.”

“Teamwork!” Sibyl replied as she raised her glass. “Thanks for your help guys.”

“Thank you for letting me help,” Westley countered.

There was something about him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but being around him felt safe. Comfortable. Happy. They laughed and she met his gaze over the kitchen table. Her cheeks burned. What a pleasant surprise.