#i mean i guess ill find out in the next chapter when i get to it ;w;b

[cuteteacakes]

I don't think I can finish the chapter tonight but uh..... here's what I meant about Ransom and his confidence in kissing :0c

As I exited, I turned towards Ransom. “I want to see you again, like this,” I blurted despite my panic moments before. “I want… Ransom, are you-” Ransom wasn’t acknowledging me, rather he was looking behind me, and to my left and right. I tutted. “Are you even listening to me?” 

He suddenly pulled me back in for a final kiss, and he kissed me deeper than he had before. He put his arms around me and parted my lips with his tongue, eliciting yet another whine from me as it probed and ran along the inside of my mouth. Dear gods, my legs were growing weaker as we embraced and my injury had nothing to do with it. I could have melted in his arms and inhaled his scent, his taste, everything. But it was over far too soon. He pulled away and the only thing that connected us was a string of our combined saliva. He reached out and wiped my lip with his thumb.

“See you tomorrow.”

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 1

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

Ch/gang guide: so basically in like 2026

You - 27

Rika: 25

Roymen: Zenin: Gojo:

- SUKUNA (39), TOJI (47), GOJO (37),

- Yuuji (24), Megumi (24), Utahime (39),

- Choso (30), Maki (25), Shoko (39),

- Kamo (27), Mai (25), Ijichii (35),

- Todo (27), Momo (26), Nanami (36),

- Yuki (34), Nobara (24), Yuta (25),

- Geto (36), Panda (25) Hakari (27),

- Mimiko (22), Miwa (26), Kirara (27),

- Nanako (22) Toge (26), Kokichi (25),

“No way I’m sleeping for dinner tonight.” You stuffed your hair in a beanie and threw your hood over your eyes. Your smaller frame makes you easier to be dismissed as teenager, people just thinking you’re just an emo on their occasional stroll through the city, it was the perfect excuse they made up for you. Running into them, “stupid brat”, or just swiftly taking something passing it off as youre asking for directions. That was when you were just practicing; right now, you had to use those skills again. The bustling city really tones itself down when the third clan moved in.

No one knows where they came from, but they’re worse than the Zenin Gang. The Gojo Gang was supposed to be there to even them out but with the Ryomen gang, everyone was so scare of them that half the population started to stay inside, that’s what it seemed.

“Lucky.” Some dumbass just entered your alley to take a phone call. Knowing your size you’d be apprehended immediately, but if it’s one person, you could quickly snatch something and you’d be living like a king once again (until the next poor soul comes across your path.) You just didn’t find the use in a job, being stuck in this world that would use you just for being born, you wanted to prove it wrong.

You toss your trash and start walking towards this figure, making it seem like you were just passing them. They ignore you and you smile because this is the perfect time to “Oof!”

You smack into the man in the alley and you get knocked on your ass. The man stands tall and barely moves. “Call me back in 5 minutes.”

The man hangs up his phone and looks down at you. “All this space in this alley and you run into me? Really? You don’t think it’s obvious what you’re trying to do kid?”

You’ve never had a confrontation like this before. What the hell, how did he stand so still, it was like running into a wall. “He’s got me figured out, guess i’ll just return his wallet while he still thinks i’m a kid.”

You reach into your jacket and he grabs your arm. “Are you trying to retrurn this to me?” He pulls out his wallet, you thought you grabbed that? Did he take it back at the last second? Did you never take it? “Or are you finding a weapon. Do you need it that badly that you’ll go up against me?”

“I don’t know you.” You answer. You want to run away but he couches down to you, making you face him. “I don’t blame you.” He grabs at your hat and hood, taking them off, along with your giant jacket.

“Oh? I wouldn’t have noticed you were a bitch.” He was being rough, or maybe it was gentle for him, but this was fucked, you had to leave, now. You try to get up but he grabs your shoulder, keeping you down with him.

“What do you want? Jut let me go.” He’s gotta have other plans if he didn’t want to be bothered.

He laughs like that was funny. “Let you go? You knocked into /me/. It was your whole idea to get involved.”

You didn’t know what do to, he was making shit up now. He tried to lean close but you moved back. I like that. He moves in again and you grit your teeth and try to hit him. He punches you in the stomach so hard you stop breathing for a second. It was awful, god what the fuck was he gonna kill you? That’s too far for stealing a wallet.

“Remember what Ive been saying?”

You heave over yourself.

“I’ll just train you better, your reaction is quite nice.“

His phone rings as you try to collect yourself.You could barely move, much less drag yourself to sit up against the wall. Every breath of life was agonizing.

“Yeah, perfect timing, yeah I was just teaching this bitch a lesson. Tried to steal my wallet just now. Ballsy.” He says while looking down at you.

Holy fucking shit you were in fear. Your legs couldn’t move if you tried. You just knew he was dangerous if this was normal for him.

You shrink down yourself down to minimize the pain barely anything came up but still you were heaving.

He comes over and stomps on you while listening in on the phone. His large boot putting pressure between your legs.

Were you enjoying this? The strange man just won’t stop grinding himself in the right spot, the pain subsided and you looked like a breathless messy pervert on the street.

“Hey are you paying attention?!” The person on the phone almost yelled out.

“Ill call you back.”

He stopped the pressure when you started to squirm and humor yourself into his boot. He lifts you up in with one arm.

He looks at you with cold eyes. “You’re fucked up.”

“You-you” You breathed through hungry breaths.

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes and grabs at you. “Lets see if you can handle me then.”

“That’s not what i meant!” You tried to back yourself away from him when he grabs at your face and wipes it off, looking around for something. There’s a corner past the other end of the alley, and he drags you there, bending you over the wall.

“Is this all you want?” You spit out.

“You’re so nonchalant about this.”

“Being out here this long, it’s bound to happen.” Life on the street, this is the reason why you had to cover up you were a woman. It didn’t help that you looked smaller, easier if anything. It wasn’t anything new for survival.

“They told me I was great, couldn’t even last 2 minutes.“

“Then you shouldn’t be worried” He whips it out.

Your stomach dropped. “What the fuck wait-“

He spits on his tip only and angles it down, centering where your cervix may be. He thrusts in, tearing your walls apart, you scream out loud and he punches you in the back of the head, almost making you black out for a second.

“Shhhh oooh wow you are great,” He grunts as you still find space for him. “But can you survive me?”

Your head hurt, your legs hurt, you can’t do much but go limp and bear it. He was ruining you. His dick make your legs go numb, they just hit you so hard deep inside that you feel the shock in your face and toes with each assault.

All you could do was manage your breathing through this, holy shit this was something else. He grabs your neck with his forearm, choking you while pulling him closer to him, going even deeper, making you cry.

“Aw does this hurt?” He whispers in your ear.

“F-Fuck you.”

He chuckled. “You started squeezing me each time you hear my voice, are you that easy to train?”

You let out another cry and hit the wall with your fist, trying to redirect some of the pain. He stays in you and grinds into you, he’s just trying to make u cum to humiliate you.

He reaches around and kisses at your neck and drops you up and down on him. The rhythm is making you go insane and it feels like he has so many hands with he way he keeps everywhere occupied.

You cum so hard you actually squirt, wait did you? You’ve never done that before so truthfully it was as embarrassing as it was shocking. You couldn’t stop shaking from your core.

“Jesus, I’m gonna need new pants.” You cling to the wall, face tingling, you couldn’t even try out your legs, it was out of the question. You let yourself start to feel, shaking as a wave of emotions creep toward you as you hoped to be left alone in the alley, but he surprises you. “C’mon we’re going home.”

He grabs at you, picking your tired, half naked body up. You wanted to thrash and be freed, but if you risk kicking at his head, you might as well be begging to eat the curb. Before you know it you’re stuffed into a tinted out car in the barren street.

Avoiding eye contact, you sat still in the middle of the packed car. One of them had the decency to give you their jacket to cover yourself up with, but you couldn’t stop the smell, you smelled like and looked like sex. You were just happy it was over, though haven’t you heard this before, ‘Never let them bring you to a second location?” You were about to freak out again until the person next to you grabbed your arms and blindfolded you.

—————-

They drag you out the car and have you follow them for what felt like the longest few minutes of your life. You find your senses quickly, the blindfold was taken off and you were somewhat free again. “Here.” Your escorts pushed you into the room.

You’ve been brought to where it looked like these two girls were waiting to clean you up. Without saying much, they get to work.

At it for a good half hour, most of your injuries were treated. They keep you awake in case you have a concussion.

“You two leave.” Your captor entered the room.

“But her head-“

“I was the one who gave her the injury, I know how hard I hit her. Now leave before I decide to cut alliances with your father, and take you two along with this pitiful bitch.”

The girls hold their breath and take nothing with them, leaving you two alone. When you’re not in a u Jed away spot in the street together, he actually started to look larger by comparison. Do you really think you could’ve taken him on?

What was there to say? What was he going to do to you? Did that matter anymore? You hold onto your belly, tracing over the bruises he left, not being able to stomach another hit from him in your current condition. The large man walks over to your bed.

Towering over you, admiring his work, “I came back only because you didn’t satisfy me. I mean I make you a squirting mess and you mess up my pants? That doesn’t sound fair does it?”

“Who are you?” You don’t dare to move or the ache will start again. “How do you have all this power?”

He sounded amused. “You still haven’t figured it out yet? Or did I hit you too hard.” He flicks your forehead.

“Seriously!”

You’re sure of it, there’s no way someone like you would’ve ever met anyone from the top 3. You had no business with them, you stayed out of their business and locations. “My name is Sukuna.”

As the thoughts crossed your mind, he takes ur blanket off and sees you all cleaned up, of course, still bruised and swollen from just before.

Tearing off the blanket, immediately ripping apart the robes and cloths that covered you, he exposes you and keeps your legs spread. No warning, he just dives right in. You’re taken aback by the sudden collision. His tongue dances around your sex before he starts lapping you up. His flattened tongue grazing your clit then sucking at it had your whole body reacting.

He picked your legs up to get a better angle. His hot mouth felt like it was melting into you. It wasn’t long before he brought you to orgasm again, but just with his mouth. It wasn’t enough for him, he needed more.

Stuffing a few fingers into you, he doesn’t stop and continues working on your clit with his tongue again. Barely giving you time to recover from the sensitivity, you jolted more as he picked up his pacing, barely able to hold back screams.

Riding out your second orgasm into his hand, he looks down amused. “I needed to relieved some stress today, maybe the gods are finally listening to me. But was it luck? Fate? Hm…”

What is he talking about, weren’t you the one with semi brain damage?

The high leaves your body, though you could still feel it in you face. Sukuna takes his digits out of you and picks you up by the face. His other hand unsheatheding himself from his robes.

His erection was terrifying. Seeing it again made your body ache and you were screaming, at least you would if you found the strength but it was beat out of you, before, and now.

You couldnt stand for a second you thought his scar and tattooed decorated body was beautiful. That jawline, his dark features softened by his pink hair, and this distinguishing look in his eyes. Though cruel and harsh, scary like him, there was something else there. Not that you had time to look.

His cruelty brings you back. Shoving you full of his cock, rutting his hips in deeper every chance you think he’s done, he digs deeper. As he sits upright, he has gravity do most of the work. Putting his hands on the small of your back, using that to push you down further onto him. You were getting uncomfortable with this cock warming.

He was just digging holes into you now. Almost bored, watching your legs cringe at every grind. Your face contorting with pain and relief from moves only he’ll allow. He’s enjoying himself enough to almost forget that this was just a pit stop.

“Make me cum and I’ll go.” He says.

Through the pain, unable to ignore him, you ask, “What?”

“You heard me. If I’m late I can just skip my meetings and punish you for the rest of the day.” He threatened.

You pick yourself up with your thighs on top of his, the adjustment made it feel bigger, you were uncomfortable but you knew that it would be tighter from this angle. You’re trembling as your arms are weak yet they were pushing your body up onto his.

He looks down a bit amused. “Do you need some help?” Without waiting he puts his hands under your arms and pick you up, finally angling it right and dropping you down, his head hitting into your cervix.

“Mmm- Ahhh!” Youd cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck to better manage your weight. If you let go he’d break you, you held yourself up as much as you could but Sukuna doesn’t really like a clingy partner. He rips one arm off his neck and uses that hold to maneuver you above him.

“Hhhh! Hhhhahh….” Your short screams had become gasps and sighs, getting sweeter as he kept a rhythm. He grabs at your neck and face, pushing you to face him and you just kiss him violently back.

Pushing your chest onto his, feeling his blood rush as you can only manage to smother his face with sloppy kisses.

With this, he takes that as the go to and puts you back on your back, bending your knees up and makes your face go numb. Without a warning he slaps you so hard you almost rag doll. He laughs at you again, and pulls out, making a sloshing sound.

Almost embarrassed because of the noises you were making without him, he flips you over and shoves your face into the pillow. He slaps you ass hard, your scream silences as he pushes you further in the bed with his dick. He doesn’t stop, this feeling was deeper than you felt before, it was breaking you now.

“What’s my name bitch?” He’s gasping out.

“SUK-“ He slaps your ass. “SUH aH-“ He grabs stir, not letting you finish as he starts to relentlessly buck into you. “AHHH! SUKUNA!” You cry.

The pain and numbness; pleasure and confusion were all messing with your senses. Your cries were like melody to his ears, so much so he decided to choke you from behind. Your gasps and pathetic grunts desperately trying to get your brain some air, it drove him crazy.

He growls and grinds into you as he lays all his weight on you, like he claimed ownership. He’s so deep in you you couldn’t breathe and now you could feel it. He was twitching inside you, and something hot was spreading from inside. This was insane, with the weight, the asphyxiation, it was so much and oh-

Your body tensed up, toes curled and your fingers clenching onto whatever sheets and skin you could find at the moment. He dug his head and bit into your sweet spot. Sukuna’s arm that grabbed your neck, traveled to your womb, lifting you further into him as you came onto his still twitching cock.

“You didn’t do much this time,” He holds you on top of him still as he skewers through you, “but I can forgive you. Rest.” Sukuna stands up and lets you slip off of him, back into the bed weak as ever. He puts his robe back on and looks down at you from the bed. You couldn’t care, you’re just tired from the most unexpected few hours you’ve ever lived through. It wasn’t so much crazy as it was weird.

Dusting himself off, fixing the details of his new outfit, he stands up to leave. You watch as he carries himself with such a highly regard, you can’t help but rethink his status. He opens the door, to your surprise he speaks to someone.

“I told you I wouldn’t need long.” He says to the people outside. Were they there the whole time? What the hell was going on anymore. Was life as you knew it over? If you weren’t already, you were SO fucked.

“When the girls are done shopping tell them to clean her up, again.”

———————————

I hope this is good I’ll prob reread it and rewrite it but here take it TAKE IT// I’ll be working on movie night w the boys next 😈

[yikesmary]

TWO: LIVE IN BOYFRIEND — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: when you have to get used to choi seungcheol as your roommate and fake boyfriend.

notes: thank you guys for all the love you guys gave the first (technically first even if it’s not labeled as the first?) part of what I guess is becoming a series? depending on if I get ideas or not, uploading parts to this series may or may not take long. ill also be accepting ideas for the stories if you guys have any ideas!

btw this chapter focuses more on the contrast of how you and Seungcheol started as people who agreed to fake date vs how you guys will act now. you guys are still fake dating but to people it's very real because you guys act the part.

i'm still accepting requests if you guys have them! it can be for this series or for a one shot, just send an ask.

join my taglist!

previous / next

"We need to discuss some ground rules," You said as you and Seungcheol walked around the mall, finding stores to browse through.

"What ground rules do we need? I live with you, and I pretend to be your boyfriend," he said.

"How did we meet? Who asked who out? Where was our first date? Do we let people know we're living together? How long do we say we're together?" You listed out, counting off with your fingers.

"Don't you have a class with Wonwoo?" Seungcheol suddenly asked.

"Jeon Wonwoo? Yeah, I do. Why do you know that?" you asked.

"We say that Wonwoo introduced us and we were friends for a while. I wanted to ask you out but you beat me to it. Our first date was me teaching you basketball, and it was not pretty." He teased.

"How'd you know I'm bad at basketball?" you questioned.

"I mean, when you nearly died after choking on noodles, I guessed you aren't the most graceful," he joked.

You rolled your eyes and hit him lightly on the shoulder. Spotting a store you wanted to go to, you grabbed Seungcheol's forearm and dragged him with you.

"Anyways, we should let people know we're living together. It tells people we're serious and your ex he's a jackass for breaking up with you the way he did," he said, grabbing a shirt and showing it to you to look at.

Nodding in approval, you grabbed the shirt and continued to look through the racks. "Besides creating a story of our relationship, we make other rules,"

"Like?"

You grabbed a few more items before going in line for the cashier. Counting how much money you had, you realized you had to return a few things. You tried walking out of a line but Seungcheol stopped you and shook his head.

"Like don't fall in love with each other," you said, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"We're not gonna fall in love with each other," Seungcheol said.

Once you guys were the next people in line, the cashier started scanning all of the items. Moving to pay, you stopped once you realized that Seungcheol already had his card out and was on his way to pay.

"You didn't have to do that," you told him.

"Think of it as a present. From one roommate to the other," he said.

"Anyways, what were you saying about not falling in love with each other?"

"Have you seen every movie that involves fake dating? The two main protagonists always fall in love without knowing!"

"Those are movies, this is real life,"

When you exited the store, you turned to face him. "How about we just agree to stay friends?"

"Just friends,"

"I'm home!" You called out, putting your keys in the bowl that Seungcheol put after you lost your keys and had to use his for the 3rd time.

When you entered the living room, you saw that your living room was filled with both yours and Seungcheol's friends sitting at every possible chair. "Hello Cheol and everyone who doesn't live here," you greeted.

"How was your nail appointment?" Seungcheol asked and you smiled and walked towards him to hold up your nails to show him.

He took your hands and observed them, "you chose the color I suggested," he said.

You shrugged, "I didn't have any other color ideas and it looked pretty,"

"Now, tell me, why are there twelve of our friends in our apartment when they don't live here?" you questioned.

"We didn't have any food!" Jeonghan interjected.

As if practiced, the sound of Minghao drinking a cup of tea and Jun eating something crunchy filled the room. Jihoon then opened a bag of candy, which caught the attention of others and they grabbed handfuls from the bag.

"And you finish all of ours?!" You jokingly shouted.

"You guys are supposed to go grocery shopping anyways," Seungkwan pointed out.

"Can you guys get more chips? You guys ran out of the ones I like," Vernon said with a mouthful of the chips as mentioned earlier.

"And soda!" Chan exclaimed.

"You tell me the word and I'll kick all of them out," Seungcheol offered.

Ignoring all of the shouted protests from your friends, you shook your head, "It's fine as long as Mingyu's cooking,"

Everyone in the room turned to Mingyu, who sighed and stood up to go to the kitchen. "Don't make a mess of our kitchen or else!" You called out.

"How about you change into comfortable clothes and I'll make these idiots decide on a movie," Seungcheol said.

"Nothing that's too scary or else Seokmin and Soonyoung will have nightmares," you reminded him.

"I don't think they'll get nightmares—" Joshua started saying, but a stern look from you cut him off.

"They'll get nightmares, nevermind," he backtracked.

"You make us sound like kids!" Soonyoung said.

"It's cause you are," Wonwoo commented.

"This is like a daycare," you muttered.

"Go change. I managed to get your favorite snacks away from the guys," Seungcheol told you.

You smiled at him before going to your room to change like you originally planned to.

Maybe this fake dating thing was going better than you thought it was going to.

[dreamlandcreations]

• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen •

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: Daemon is about to meet his match...

Warnings (and some ramblings): physical description vaguely (?) described and implied by relation, not gonna spoil the plot but there's gonna be targcest (come on, it's Daemon), other canon stuff (violence, death/murder, sex, misogyny, calling children bastards), Daemon is about 21 (according to canon, you'll see what I mean), reader is younger by at least two years; twisting up canon: Alyssa died within the year of Daemon's birth, Queen Alysanne is still alive and the Daemon-Rhea wedding has not happened yet, the fight is basically the Geralt vs Renfri fight (if you want visuals bc I suck at describing it 😅), bit of insta love, enemies to lovers (sort of), it's mostly from Daemon's POV, not proofread at all

Series masterlist • next chapter

• 102 AC • Winterfell • The tourney

Daemon was warned to behave before most of the House of the Dragon parted from King's Landing but he was called the Rouge Prince for a reason.

The tourney was held on the second day of their stay and he had not shown himself in public until then, content to spend his first day in the North reading under the heart tree.

Daemon always loved dramatic entrances, always seeking attention that he seemingly only gets when he is misbehaving. So he was ready to wreak havoc during the event that was supposed to be a friendly match between the great houses.

As a prince, he got to choose his first opponent, and who else would it be than a Hightower. He spared a smirk to that cunt of a Hand before he marched ahead to win with brutal precision, sending his opponent's horse and the knight himself to the ground.

The horrified gasps and then the loud cheering from the crowd only made his smirk wider. Daemon looked over the high seats from where the Targaryens, Velaryons and Starks watched the show. He immediately noted three empty seats, two besides Lord Stark - no doubt one of them was his brother's or cousin's whose helmeted figure Daemon had seen in the line of knights - and one by the King.

Since his grandmother, the Queen, was not present due to her illness, the only one who was sending him scolding glares was his brother, Viserys. The old king just sighed at the scene, while Corlys and Rhaenys sat there, amused, like parents watching a naughty child.

The next challenges were won just as easily as the first, although none of them was even remotely close to that savage end the Hightower boy had to suffer.

While the Prince usually didn't bother to watch the others, this time that Stark was drawing attention with his effortless wins. Prompting the people to make guesses and bets if a wolf could win against a dragon. Well, they were about to find out.

The first round shattered his opponent's shield but, to his astonishment, he stayed upright in the saddle. Daemon was smirking as usual but this time a tiny bit of admiration made his eyes glint in a softer light.

He could tell the little wolf would go down in the next round but he didn't expect to be taken with him too. The dragon prince's blood was singing at meeting a worthy opponent who was just as determined to win, no matter the cost.

The boy must have known he had no chance to stay on the horse, so instead of attacking Daemon as would be proper and expected, he somehow hooked his spear under his arm, yanking him back with the force of his own fall.

Both of you heavily landed on the ground, the impact crushing the air from your lungs and making it unable to move for a long moment. The spectating people were holding their breath, waiting to see if you were, well, alive or not.

The cheering was deafening as you got to your feet and proceeded to fight with swords.

Without wasting another second, you marched forward. Stabbing in his direction, aiming for his head and swinging at his neck with the same momentum once your initial blow missed its target.

The prince leaned away from each attack and his sword met yours at the third strike. He let you lead the fight for a few more clashes but he paused to assess you as he blocked a blow that meant to hit his legs.

Daemon straightened and stepped back, pushing your sword away with his and striking down with a high swing of Dark Sister. Your sword met his again, protesting under the finer steel.

To spare your weapon the worst of the hit, you focused on meeting the side of the blade while avoiding the edge and rolling the swords, trying to dislodge the weapon from his grip.

To unsuccessful stabbing attempts later you made a move at his head again. He ducked down, then didn't hesitate to use the opportunity of the few seconds you left yourself open.

You didn't expect a hit by his other hand and certainly not the following kick that sent you to the ground. Unfortunately, this resulted in losing your helmet.

Daemon paused at the sight.

It was no brother or cousin of their host, not even a boy as he suspected from the lighter build of the armour but a girl with the features of a Stark, the infamous wild beauty of the North, Lord Stark's niece by his late sister.

For the second time during this event, a unanimous scandalized gasp was heard from the crowd right before loud the protests of his brother and your uncle reached the two of you as they forbade you to continue the fight.

At that, your still bewildered expression turned into something Daemon was extremely familiar with. Blinding, all-consuming, untamed rage at being denied.

The Targaryen prince grinned wickedly at you but before you could turn your anger on him, he tore off his helmet, throwing it away and subtly nodding at you, giving you the approval to attack him and continue the fight. The answering spark in your eyes before you charged at him made his heart skip a beat.

It was similar to how you started the first time. He let you advance, then half-heartedly attacked back, ending the session with another backhanded slap before he pushed you backwards until your back met the edge of the fighting arena.

"You are holding back." You practically spat the accusation at him through gritted teeth while holding your sword to block his. Although with the way he took hold of your hand, making sure that your blade did not cut into your throat proved that you might as well let go altogether and would still be safe from any harm.

The world around you seized to exist as the prince pressed a little closer. Answering with an infuriatingly smug grin. "It would be unforgivable to hurt a little lady like you."

"You just hit me," you scoffed.

"You'll live."

"If you won't start fighting properly, you will not." The menacingly low threat made chills run down his spine, eliciting a low chuckle out of him that was definitely a mistake.

Then 'the little lady' pulled a knife on him.

Daemon grunted at the pain of being stabbed in his side. He looked at you with disbelief, the blade went through his armour like it wasn't even there. Valyrian steel.

It was enough distraction. You pushed him away, attacking with the dagger and the sword simultaneously and if you were a little less aggravated, you'd be impressed with the way he blocked your attacks with not just his sword but bare hand fight combined before he started to use his sword more like a shield.

Swords crossed, you paused.

Daemon could have swiped your legs, and you could have stabbed him with the dagger again but you were too busy trying to make it a show that you could overpower him and he was just too pissed to let you go easy.

In a blink of an eye, you were kneeling on the ground with your opponent's blade digging into your shoulder. Although he was careful not to cut too deep, he was not above the pettiness of giving you a scar in return for his.

A half groan, half gasp sound was the only indication of your pain and Daemon felt a moment of regret before he was consumed by flames from deep within that seemed to be seeded in the pull he felt towards you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He found your rage and your inner fire, which was clearly visible in your determination and anger at the present, mesmerisingly beautiful.

He became distracted again. It was enough for you to be able to move and swipe at his leg, cutting him with the dagger before you stood and faced him with a challenging stance.

A few seconds of silent discussion followed, with him letting you know he will give you what you wished for if you continue, warning you that he will not hold back anymore.

You grinned, attacking him, again using both weapons, with some moves applying them like a single extended weapon.

Then he put you in a difficult position. Stopping the dagger by grabbing it, he was forcing you to stay still not by strength but by thrusting you that you would not want to permanently damage him.

If you pulled away now, he would lose at least a few fingers if not his hand altogether. Both of you gritted your teeth, mostly in pain but it showed more like anger, which made it seem like you were practically snarling at the other.

With barely clutching the handles, you pry his hand off enough to only graze him. And it leaves you vulnerable.

You almost lost your weapons when he immediately attempted to disarm you. Then he truly advanced, forcing you to defend yourself and back away. He was relentlessly stabbing and swinging with Dark Sister in your direction.

Then it was over, he took your sword. Holding you at the end of his blade, telling you to yield.

It was only then that you heard the crowd again. Cheering at the incredibly fast and hard-to-follow battle they just witnessed.

Despite the loud audience, Daemon still heard as you sighed with annoyance, keeping eye contact with him as you threw your dagger to the ground, refusing to do more or say the words.

He smiled, this time with pure amusement only. He stepped away, letting you breathe freely and to his further entertainment dropped to the ground to sit and rest or pout like a child. It was hard to guess and that made him enjoy the scene even more.

You were so busy with pealing away the suffocating armour where you could reach and the impending scolding that you knew was coming the moment you tied up your cousin and took his place, that you didn't pay attention when the prince received the flower crown or what he was planning to do with it.

Feeling the crown of winter roses placed on your head, you look up, wide eyes meeting with the Rogue Prince's mischievous gaze as he offers his hand and helps you stand. Without letting go, he bends a little, kissing the back of your hand as he murmurs, "My queen."

Series masterlist • next chapter

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 15

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Ale ran around the lawn of Crown Castle’s gardens, his fluffy fur similar to freshly-baked sponge cake flowing with his movement.

Kate: The weather is nice and it’s fun running around with Ale.

Ellis: Hehe, it is fun. Kate’s happy face is cute.

Liam: Since Kate and Ale came, we’ve had more time for stuff like this.

Ellis: Yeah, you’re right.

(Ever since I’ve started helping out with looking after Ale, I’ve naturally been able to spend more time with everyone outside of missions)

When I squinted at the bright sunlight, I caught a figure through a window.

(Ah, Roger!)

When our eyes met, I waved at him in his room.

(...I hope I’m not making some kind of face. Am I smile naturally?)

(Ah, but he could hear my heartbeat from there if he wanted to…Calm down, calm down)

I acted as if everything was the same as usual, but my mind was full of memories from last night.

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: If I were to fall in love, then I’d want us to fall together.

Because of that, I won’t ever confess that I like you until you believe that love exists.

~~ End flashback ~~

(I did pretty much just admit that I liked Roger)

By the time I noticed how the drug named Roger made its way into my body, it was already too late.

However…it didn’t matter how much I liked Roger if it was unrequited.

(Yeah. I want Roger to like me back)

Kate: …Looks like I’m more selfish than I thought.

Liam: Hehe, you’re talking out loud. Is it about Roger?

Kate: …How did you know?

Liam: If anyone didn’t, then they’re seriously ill. They should be sent to a hospital for being so clueless.

(I guess it’s that obvious…)

I looked away in embarrassment and Liam smiled beautifully like a rose.

Kate: I boasted that I’d be able to teach him about romantic love, but ended up falling for him…I’m so frustrated and embarrassed.

I don’t know why I can freely admit my feelings to anyone but Roger himself.

Liam: It can’t be helped. The human heart’s the most unpredictable thing in the world. It’d be so much easier if your heart followed your brain.

Liam’s eyes were downcast as he smiled. It felt like he wanted to abandon everything, like he was touching death’s fingers.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Would it be good or evil to make curses disappear from this world?

You don’t have to answer me now. When it comes to you, let me know.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...The more I learned about the Cursed, the less I was able to answer the question)

Alec and Roger’s past, Lance’s death, Ellis who was next handed the Briar Bushes curse, and Liam before me.

(Values change so rapidly that it’s puzzling)

(But I shouldn’t stop thinking about it)

Liam: I’d like to see it. Roger being so smitten with you, I mean.

I’d like to see it too.

I hope it happens.

I’ll do my best. +4 +4

Kate: Then I’ll do my best!

Liam: Yeah, that’s the spirit. Unlike me, Roger’s a rational one. That’s why it’d be interesting to see someone like him be madly in love.

Kate: Hehe, was that a wicked look just now?

Liam: I’m cursed with being led by my own curiosity. So you’ll have to excuse my wicked interest.

(I don’t know if you can make curses disappear)

(I wonder if that’s a good thing. However…)

Kate: I promise when Roger’s smitten with me, I’ll let you know.

Sometimes it’s the small promises that are important to live for.

Liam: I’m looking forward to it.

As I smiled back at Liam, Ale and Ellis came back from playing.

(Ah, that’s right)

Kate: Um, do you know a place where I can get some beautiful flowers? I thought you two would be familiar with what’s popular.

Liam: Of course, but are they a present for someone?

Kate: You heard about how a Cursed One named Lance died the other day, right? I heard he was buried at a public cemetery and wanted to go leave some flowers.

(Lance won’t ever come back…so I hope he can rest peacefully)

Ellis: Then how about sharing the flowers from Victor’s garden? He grows flowers as a hobby. I saw him walking around with flowers this morning and I’m sure he’ll share them if you ask.

Kate: Hehe, I wasn’t aware. I’ll go ask him then.

Liam: That’s fine, but I’m worried about you going to the cemetery all by yourself. Lately, young people have been getting attacked or going missing.

Ellis: Do you mean the incidents Victor and Will are investigating?

(I do remember the barkeep saying something like that)

Unfortunately these incidents weren’t uncommon in Britain given its large population.

There is as much darkness as there are people.

(It could be related to how the girl Lance liked was killed)

Liam: I wish I could go with you but I have rehearsal…

Ellis: Sorry. I have work at Jude’s company.

Liam: Ah, Harrison might be free this afternoon.

Kate: I can’t be a bother to everyone! I’ll be fine going alone. I’ll just take Crown’s carriage to the cemetery and come back before it gets dark.

Liam: Oh? Then I guess we don’t need to worry too much.

Ale: Arf arf.

Kate: Ah, seems like Ale will be coming with me.

Ellis: Then take care of Kate, Ale.

Ale: Woof.

--

Victor had gladly shared his flowers with me and now Ale and I were being rocked around in a carriage.

When I glanced out the window, the carriage stopped not too far from the cemetery.

(Huh? But the cemetery’s still a bit of a ways down)

The coachman got off his seat, opened the door, and signed to me.

(“The road ahead…is too narrow for a carriage to take to the cemetery…”)

I somehow managed to read the sign language that I had just recently learned and tore a page out of my notebook to write a reply.

“Thank you. Please wait here, I’ll be back soon.”

I passed the paper to the coachman and alighted the carriage.

--

The sky started turning red as dusk approached.

(The cemetery’s really close. I’ll be in and out in no time)

We walked down the path leading to the cemetery.

For a while, the only sound was the grass being blown by the wind until— 

Ale: Arf arf arf.

Ale, who was walking ahead of me, suddenly turned and started barking.

Kate: Ale, what’s…

The bouquet fell from my arms.

I felt a cloth smelling like chemicals press against my nose and lost consciousness— 

--

Elbert: …

Elbert wandered around the castle looking for something, his face paler than ever.

Then—

Roger: Yo, El. Have you seen the ‘lil lady around? I wanted to get her to do some work for me, but haven’t seen her for a while.

Having found who he was looking for, Elbert rushed over to Roger.

Elbert: Roger. Listen to me calmly. It’s possible that Kate was kidnapped.

Roger: Kate? What do you mean?

Ellis: What you just said, is it true…?

They turned around and saw Jude and Ellis who had just come back from work.

Jude: The princess got kidnapped? By who?

Elbert: I’m not sure. Earlier in the garden, a coachman came up to me looking terribly disturbed. He said that he dropped Kate off not far from the cemetery, but no matter how long he waited, she never came back. He went to go look for her, but only found Ale. Here, he gave me this.

He handed Roger a piece of paper with “I’ll be back soon” written in Kate’s handwriting.

Roger: …

Ellis: Kate wanted to go leave flowers on the grave of the Cursed One who passed a few days ago. She said she’d take a carriage and be back before sundown, so she’d be fine.

Jude: That’s Saint Cemetery. Got a road so narrow that carriages pass through. Somethin’ must’ve the moment she got out.

Elbert: We don’t know what happened, but we can’t waste any time. What do we do, Roger?

Roger: …

There was nothing reflected in Roger’s eyes.

Elbert: …Roger?

Elbert waved his hand in front of Roger’s face and the latter blinked in surprise.

Roger: …

Ellis: Roger, are you okay?

Roger: Yeah…sorry. Just…a little shaken.

Elbert and Ellis: …(°ロ°)

Roger took a deep breath as if to calm himself, eyes now focused.

Roger: This likely has something to do with the recent incidents. Let’s tell Victor first and then gather the rest of Crown.

--

When news of Kate’s disappearance broke, all of Crown assembled.

Victor: Her Majesty gathers information from the masses. If Kate was kidnapped, then it’s believed to be related to the incidents.

Ellis: …So it is related to the incidents targeting young people. But why?

Jude: Human traffickin’, kidnappin’, murder for fun, there’s all sorts of reasons.

Victor: As you’re aware, Will and I have been looking into the culprit. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to identify them yet. However, based on where the victims have gone missing, we’ve been able to identify possible bases.

He spread a map of London out on the table.

Four areas were circled in red—

Victor: If Kate was kidnapped, she could be in any of these locations.

Roger: …

Victor: We don’t have time to waste. Crown will split into four teams and search each location.

Jude: I’ll be collectin’ a huge reward when I find the princess.

--

Jude: You’re up, ya dumb dog. Lead us to our dumb Fairytale Keeper.

Roger: Ale, I’m counting on you.

Ale: Woof.

A team of Roger, Jude, and Ale boarded a carriage and were now passing through a dense forest.

— Suddenly, the piercing sound of horses neighing was heard and the carriage screeched to a stop.

Roger: What the…?

Nica: Wie geht es dir (How do you do), Crown? Pardon me.

There was a polite knock on the carriage door and one of “Vogel’s” twins boarded the carriage.

Roger: You…

Nica: I just saw the Queen’s aide looking pale*. I heard Robin has gone missing?

Roger: If you already know, then get out. We don’t have time for you.

Nica: Don’t want to. Did the good doctor forget that we’re here to deepen our friendship? I’m telling you I’ll help you. I might be of some use?

Jude: …Oi, quack. We gotta move.

Roger: If you don’t wanna get kicked out then behave, older twin.

Nica: Allerdings (Of course), I’ll behave.

The carriage started moving again— 

Only Nica was happily petting Ale in his lap, as if he were on his way to a holiday resort.

His POV | Next

-

*Alternatively, red with anger. 血相を変えた was used, which in a literal sense, means ‘to change facial expression or color’. It’s contextual and in this case, Victor could be either.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

[leupagus]

Half of this fic is just me looking for more excuses to put in all the cool women that the show wrote out

Still working on the next chapter for the GOT rewrite from hell, but I had to write a little about how the fuck menstruation works in Westeros (other than "oh you can get married now!" which I refuse to believe is the norm) and also to introduce the Sphinx:

The next morning, Shireen woke up to find blood on her shift and a sharp sort of twist in her stomach, as though she'd swallowed a molten pin. The blood came out easily enough, with frantic scrubbing in the basin, but the pain grew over the course of the morning.

"It's your flowering," said Maester Alleras briskly, when she went to him in a tightly-controlled panic. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," said Shireen, realizing the date. Her nameday had passed two weeks ago.

"And what do you know of flowering?" he asked, smiling slightly at her blush. "Forgive me, but Northerners have queer ideas of teaching their children about these matters. I do not wish to presume your level of education."

"I know it can last for a week or more," Shireen said, thinking of Mother's cycles, how she would confine herself to her rooms to endure the pain in solitude and prayer. "It's very painful and disgusting, but it allows me to bear my future husband's children and therefore is a gift from the gods."

"Hmm. Well, that is what you were taught, at least," grunted the maester. He got up from his desk, rummaging through the cupboard behind him. He was a tall, skinny young man with the deep brown skin and tightly-coiled hair of a Summer Islander, and shared their fondness for brightly-colored nails: they seemed to dance along the shelves until he plucked out a jar and presented it to her with a flourish. "This will help with the pain, and stop the bleeding after this cycle. People of the North use it a great deal."

"Is it moon tea?" Shireen asked, taking it gingerly and wondering at Maester Alleras's use of the term Northerners, which sounded different from People of the North. Perhaps in the Summer Isles, everyone on Westeros was a Northerner. "Why do they use it so much here?"

"It is," he confirmed, "and as for why..." He shrugged. "I've only just arrived in Winterfell, you understand, and as you may have guessed—" this said with another smile— "I was born elsewhere. But from what I've gathered, they must be careful when they have children. The North can only feed so many."

Shireen thought of Fire & Blood, which Father had read to her as a child. The Winter Wolves had been a company of Northerners, who had answered Lord Cregan's call to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire with Rhaenyra Targaryen. They'd been greybeards who had knowingly marched to their deaths, for such was the custom of the North back then: at the start of each winter, the old men of each keep and castle and holdfast would choose amongst themselves who would go out into the snows. Some would return home in the spring, having endured the cold or escaped it to find their fortunes in southron lands; most would not.

"Put a thimbleful of this into whatever tea you like best," Maester Alleras continued, gesturing at the jar, his fingernails catching the light as it streamed into the rookery. "Once a day, and come back when you need more."

"Shouldn't I ask—" Shireen bit her lip.

But the maester caught her meaning; his eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you ask your parents? Yes, I suppose you should. But they should be here to be asked, and they should have told you the truth."

"What's the truth?" Shireen asked, instead of admitting that Mother and Father had never told her anything about it. She couldn't imagine either of them even mentioning the subject. All her information had come from books, or from Mother's complaints.

"The truth is that if a cycle is painful and lasts for a week or more, that is the sign of an illness, not the will of a god. The truth is that you may well find it disgusting, but it is merely something our bodies do and should never be a source of disgust or shame to you or anyone else." He glared, though it did not seem directed at her. "And as for 'bearing your future husband's children,' the truth is that they are your children, just as much as his — indeed more so, unless he carries them about for the first nine months after their birth. But you will not be a woman grown for at least another two years, and any man who wishes you to bear children until at least that time is unworthy of your hand or your love." He sat back down, his half-dozen maester's links chiming musically. "Now run along, little princess."

Lady Sansa was just outside the door, with her brother beside her. "See, I told you she smelled funny," Rickon said triumphantly.

Shireen scowled at him. "Shut up." It was kind of him, she supposed, to have worked out that something was wrong and to wait for her outside the maester's chambers. But Rickon Stark was the sort of friend who was difficult to be grateful for.

"Yes, please do, Rickon," Lady Sansa said, pressing a businesslike kiss on the crown of Rickon's head before turning him round by the shoulders and pushing him down the corridor. Rickon protested, but went all the same, and Lady Sansa turned back to Shireen. "Moon tea?" she asked, nodding at the jar.

Shireen resisted the impulse to hide it somehow. It is merely something our bodies do and should never be a source of disgust or shame. "Yes, my lady," she said.

"Come along, then," said Lady Sansa. "I have some excellent tea from the Arbor. How does that sound?"

"Could I have a hot water-skin, too?" Shireen asked, as Lady Sansa looped her arm through hers.

"Of course. And the lemon trees in the greenhouse have given up their first fruits — we'll have lemon cakes for lunch instead of venison." She smiled and Shireen thought that even if Sansa Stark never took another husband or had children of her own, she was still all the mother that the North ever would need.

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 14

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 3438

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Wayne Manor stood on a huge, sprawling estate. Living in Gotham made it easy to forget that places like this existed in the world. The trees were greener. The streets were so clean, they almost sparkled. There were no sirens, no smell of rotting garbage, no hunched over zombies stumbling in the streets. This part of Long Island was like a little eden - a heaven on earth carved out and carefully guarded by the ultra wealthy. 

“This is it,” you breathed as you and Arthur approached the gates. Fortunately, there were no angry dobermans prowling about the grounds today. Only freshly-trimmed grass and the towering mansion in the distance. You wondered if anyone was even home. 

Suddenly, Arthur froze in his tracks. “Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” 

He turned to face you, shoving his hands into his pockets, throwing his eyes to the ground.

“What do you think he’ll say?”

Your heart broke for Arthur all over again. You couldn’t imagine all the emotions that must be careening through him right now.  

“Thomas Wayne?” you drew in a breath. “I guess I don’t know what he’ll say. But we’re gonna get an answer out of him one way or another.” 

“I just…” Arthur sighed. “I just want him to talk to me. You don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it?”

You reached out and stroked Arthur’s cheek. 

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “After all, you said your mother’s been writing to him all this time and she hasn't gotten a response. I’m sure the Waynes have people who handle their correspondence - maybe they’ve ignored it or maybe nothing’s gotten through yet. Either way, I know I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes.”

Arthur looked up at you. Those arresting, green eyes: filled with hope, hurt, anticipation. You said a silent prayer in that moment that whatever happened next, Arthur got the answers he needed. The answers he fucking deserved. 

Arthur pulled his hands out of his pockets and clasped them over your wrist. “I’m so glad you’re here, Y/N. If I had to come all by myself, I don’t think I’d have the guts to-”

He stopped, his eyes catching hold of something in the distance.

“What is it?” You turned around. Nothing had moved or changed that you could see. It took you a minute of scanning the surroundings until, finally, you spotted him: a tiny, sad-looking little boy playing all alone on a wooden jungle gym near the front gates. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old. 

“I think that’s his son,” you murmured. “I heard about him a couple times in the news.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Arthur said. 

“That’s right, Bruce.” You stared at the boy, mystified. There was a distinct melancholy and isolation you could feel radiating off of him, even from so far away. 

“He looks so…so…” You struggled to find the words.

“Alone.” 

You pursed your lips and looked back at Arthur, nodding. And then another realization dawned on you. 

“Oh my God,” you blinked. “If Thomas Wayne really is your father, then that would mean…”

Arthur swallowed, nodding. “I’ve thought about that, too. I know it sounds crazy, but now that I see him…I…”

You waited. 

“He reminds me so much of myself when I was a little boy.” 

“Oh shit,” you exhaled, looking back at Bruce, then back at Arthur. “I mean…I suppose given what your mother’s said…what do you wanna do, Arthur?” 

Arthur took a deep breath and to your surprise, a warm, gently confident smile began to spread across his face. 

“I’m gonna go say ‘hi.’”

“Do you want me to come with you?” You wanted Arthur to feel completely supported. You knew that sometimes being supportive looked like coming along, and other times it looked more like hanging back and letting the other person take the lead. 

“I think I should do this part myself,” he said. “But I’ll come get you if I need to.” 

“I’ll be right here,” you squeezed his hand. “I love-”

Wait, what the hell were you saying? Had you completely taken leave of your senses?

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat. “I love…waiting!” you finished brightly, hoping he’d buy it. “I’ll wait as long as you need and I’ll be right here. Be strong, okay? And if they give you any trouble, call me and…I’ll beat everyone up!”

Arthur smiled, lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, sending chills through your entire being. If he’d somehow picked up on your almost-love-confession, he didn’t show it. 

Arthur already has enough on his mind right now, you chastised yourself as you watched him approach the gate. He doesn’t need you muddling it further with your irrational emotions. 

You couldn’t tell Arthur you loved him now. First of all, it was way too soon. 

Second of all…

Well, the second part was embarrassing. And more than a little crazy. You knew your feelings for Arthur were real, but that didn’t stop you from recognizing how intense they were after only knowing him a short time. 

So why, then, did it feel like the most natural thing to say? The thing you sensed he needed to hear?

You meandered further up the drive, away from the entrance, giving Arthur his space but staying close enough so you could quickly run to his side if necessary. 

It was startlingly quiet here compared to the endless cacophony of Gotham City. So quiet, it felt like if you stopped and listened carefully, you could hear the wind in the trees singing to you. 

Despite the peaceful surroundings, however, bitter memories began to weave their way into your mind. You knew a good faction of your former GU classmates hailed from this part of Long Island - hell, some of their families probably even rubbed elbows with the Waynes themselves: probably got invited to their fancy Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties, toasting their continued privilege and fortune over a bottle of champagne that cost more than you made in a month. 

You didn’t have anything in common with those people. So how on earth had you found yourself among them in the first place? 

The answer was almost annoyingly simple: your parents had drilled the importance of getting an education into you since you were a toddler, telling you it would open doors, get you the better life you deserved…unlike the two of them who’d gotten jobs straight out of high school and lamented nonstop how much the lack of a college education had held them back from their potential. 

“Potential,” you muttered to yourself under your breath. That was the word they’d always used and it still left a sour taste in your mouth. 

“You have so much potential, Y/N,” they’d always say. “But you can’t let it go to waste. You have to work three times as hard as everyone else in order to realize it.”  

You’d believed them - bought their promises hook, line and sinker and dutifully applied yourself like the good little girl you were. The truth was, you’d never quite fit in at Burnley High, either. Most of the kids there dropped out or phoned in the bare minimum to scoot by and pick up a diploma, but you’d been among the top five performers in your graduating class of over 400 students. You’d done the extra work, taken the hardest classes, stayed home and sacrificed any semblance of a normal teenage social life to mold yourself into the high-achieving student your family wanted you to be. 

And it had paid off. At least for a brief moment in time. When the letter from Gotham University arrived saying you’d gotten in with a full scholarship, you’d cried tears of joy. Your mother had cried. Your father said he was proud of you. He never said things like that.

You remembered back to that day: the teary-eyed seventeen year old girl holding an acceptance letter in her sweaty, trembling hands like a golden badge of honor. That badge represented everything you’d worked your entire life for, everything you’d ever wanted: Validation. Recognition. Belonging.

Belonging. Yes, back then, that same girl believed she was finally being admitted through the golden gates to a place she belonged. You’d been naive enough to assume that at college you’d encounter more people like yourself, people who came from nothing but made amazing things happen through hard work and belief in themselves. 

But Gotham U had been nothing like you’d expected. 

Yes, the students were bright, but the vast majority were also spoiled and entitled. They seemed to take their enrollment at the school for granted, and the fact that their parents paid their tuition in full (were able to pay it in the first place) didn’t in any way accelerate their work ethic. These were kids whose parents owned country houses, summer houses and yachts. Kids who went to horseback riding camp every summer since they were six, learned how to ski when they were four, took vacations over spring break to places like Paris or Barcelona or the Hamptons. 

You’d never even ridden on an airplane. 

How ignorant that girl with the acceptance letter was, you mused. The dream of being a student at Gotham University had powered everything you’d worked for the first 17 years of your life…and all too late turned into a horrible nightmare. 

“Potential.” What did it mean now? Of course, your parents were still holding out hope you’d eventually return to GU. But GU was just like the Waynes themselves: they wanted to portray themselves as a beacon of magnanimity and altruism, but when it came to actually stepping up and doing the right thing, their interests lay solely with themselves and their ability to maintain wealth and power. When the cards were down, a poor scholarship girl from Burnley High didn’t qualify for basic human consideration. And your biggest mistake was believing that they ever would. 

After all the unpleasantness that had occurred towards the end of your first year - the school’s administration “generously” forcing you to take medical leave or be expelled - you’d started to believe you didn’t belong anywhere. You didn’t see a future for yourself anymore. And feeling this way not only made you incredibly sad, but it scared you. 

But all that had started to change since meeting Arthur. Arthur, you imagined, who right now was probably feeling the same way you had on the first day of freshman orientation: Hoping, with the most optimistic part of his heart, that he just might find the love and acceptance he’d yearned for for so long.  

But was life on the other side of those golden gates all that Arthur imagined it could be? 

Suddenly, you felt extremely protective of him. You knew it was inappropriate to eavesdrop, but who were you kidding? Just the thought of Arthur going through something similar to your experience at that school was unthinkable. You tiptoed closer - not close enough to be spotted, but close enough to give yourself the best chance of overhearing…well, spying. 

“Bruce! What are you doing?” Another man’s voice shot out accusingly over the quiet. “Get away from that man.”

Shit. Not good. Your heart started to race. 

Please, you prayed, please don’t be assholes. 

You realized almost immediately how useless such a plea was. These were the Waynes, after all. 

“It’s okay,” you heard Arthur respond. “I’m a good guy.”

Resisting the urge to race to Arthur’s side took every inch of self control in your body. You reminded yourself that he’d wanted to do this alone. You wanted to respect that. Arthur could hold his own. He was a strong person, deep down. And dealing with rudeness was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to.

But if they were complete assholes to him, you didn’t know how much you could tolerate. 

You crept even closer, still hidden behind the giant shrubs that surrounded the estate. The other voice couldn’t belong to Thomas Wayne, you reasoned. Thomas Wayne didn’t have an English accent.  

“Can you tell Mr. Wayne that I need to see him?” Arthur asked. 

At that moment, the wind picked up, compromising your ability to hear as clearly as before. You cursed under your breath, cupping your hand to your ear. 

“...your mother was a sick woman,” you heard the other man say to Arthur in the coldest, most unfeeling tone imaginable. “She was delusional.”

Your jaw dropped. Your right hand fell from your ear and twisted reflexively into a fist. 

“Don’t say that,” you growled under your breath. 

Exactly who the fuck did these people think they were? Couldn’t they put themselves in another person’s shoes for just one fucking second? If the roles were reversed, wouldn’t they want the same answers? Didn’t everyone deserve that? 

Deep breaths, Y/N, you told yourself. Deep breaths. 

“Just go,” the man’s cruel, disdainful voice echoed up the drive. “Before you make a bigger fool of yourself.” 

That did it. Fuck the deep breaths. Fuck taking the high road. And fuck this rude asshole.

The entire world blurred into raging red as you found yourself barreling like a fiery cannonball down the drive to Arthur’s side, ready to fight, to climb those gates like an acrobat and beat the living hell out of that asshole - any anyone else who wanted some, too. 

How dare he talk to Arthur Fleck, your Arthur Fleck, that way? 

When you rounded the corner, you were surprised and more than a little satisfied to see that Arthur had already reached through the gates and grabbed the dude by his collar, holding him in a semi-chokehold. 

“Kick his ass!” you cried out. “Kick his motherfucking ass!” 

The rude man’s eyes darted to you, filled with surprise, confusion, fear. And the inability to utter another word for lack of oxygen. 

Good.

You pulled your right arm back and swung through the gates with all your strength, punching him square across the face while Arthur held him in place. The man’s nose started bleeding and you smiled. Your anger made you strong, increased your strength exponentially in the moments you needed it most. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, it was one of the things you actually liked about this part of yourself that you were supposed to reject, to work so hard to rid yourself of. 

You liked feeling strong in a world where everyone was more than happy to step and walk all over you without a second thought. And you were tired of pretending you didn’t.

Arthur was a slight, diminutive man, but his anger made him strong, too. He had the asshole so tight by the collar, it looked like his face was turning red. 

You were winding up, about to strike again when you suddenly registered the face of the sad little boy from before. Standing off to the side, he was now a very scared-looking little boy; frozen like a little Bambi fawn, eyes wide, terrified. 

Terrified…of you. Of the both of you. 

Those bewildered eyes were enough to stop you in your tracks. All at once, common sense and empathy rushed back into your heart like an ocean wave. As much as this surly jackass deserved a beatdown, you knew you’d never forgive yourself for permanently traumatizing a defenseless little kid. 

Even if he was a Wayne. 

As though he’d come to the same realization at the same exact moment, Arthur released the man just as you stopped yourself from throwing another, harder, right hook. The jerk fell backwards, clutching at his crumpled collar, and Arthur grabbed your arm. Without exchanging a word, you raced back up the drive together, running like two gazelles as fast as your feet could carry you. 

The next few minutes were a continued blur. Wayne Manor receded further and further into the background as you drew closer to the train station. You’d been too afraid to turn back and see if anyone was chasing you, but by now the adrenaline was wearing off, and your legs felt like they could give out at any second. 

“Arthur, wait!” you stopped, breathlessly, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve. Mustering up the courage to look back, you were relieved to see you hadn’t been followed. You’d managed to escape by the skin of your teeth. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” you gasped for air. 

Arthur stopped and turned to face you, panting. “Are you alright, Y/N? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” you shook your head. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. This is all my fault.”

A confused look came across his face and he took both your hands into his. “What do you mean?”

“I went crazy again. I werewolfed! I didn’t mean to, it's just…” your eyes filled with tears, realizing all too late of course, that the last thing you’d wanted in accompanying Arthur today was to do anything that would ultimately result in making it harder for him to get the answers he needed. 

How could you have let this happen? 

Arthur held up a hand to stop you. “I went crazy first,” he pointed out. 

“Well, yeah, you grabbed the guy,” you conceded. “But I’m the one who made his nose bleed, for God’s sake! I never would’ve done it if I knew the kid was watching.” You shook your head, tears filling your eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved…”

“No, Y/N,” Arthur squeezed your hands in his. “I’m glad you were there. I didn’t wanna scare the little boy, either. Seeing him brought me back to myself. I know what it’s like to be scared at that age…scared and helpless…”

Arthur’s words made the tears you’d been fighting swell over and you fell into his arms. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. Shh, come here.” Arthur pulled you into a tight embrace against his chest. 

“I didn’t mean to scare him,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m a bad person, Arthur. I’m awful.”

“That’s not true!” he protested. “Why are you saying that?”

He stepped back and tried to look you in the eye, but you were too ashamed to face him. The mean, inner voice you’d suffered with in secret since you were a little kid had taken over and had you in its iron grip of shame:

You don’t deserve to be loved.

You’re defective.

You’re worthless.

You’re awful. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Arthur whispered into your hair. “I understand. I understand what you’re feeling. But it’s not true. Whatever you’re telling yourself right now is not true.” 

You cried harder into his embrace. You might have known he’d understand. You’d found the one person in the world who felt what you felt - or at least the one person brave enough to admit to it. 

“Please don’t cry, Y/N.” You could feel Arthur’s heart pounding against your ears. “You're not a bad person,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re anything but a bad person.”

“But I messed everything up. Like I always do.”

“You stopped yourself from taking things further,” Arthur pointed out. “We both did. That means something.” 

“But how are you gonna find out if Thomas Wayne’s your father now?” you wailed. “How are you gonna get your answers?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Arthur reassured you. “I don’t want you worrying about that.”

Arthur brought his hands to your face, cradling it. You looked up into his shining, green eyes, tenderness emanating from them. His fingers gently stroked back your hair, wiped away your tears. 

“You need to breathe, Y/N. Can you take a deep breath?”

He breathed with you. In and out. And in and out again. Finally, you felt your pulse begin to slow, the maddening blur of self-hatred and negative vitriol shift from a wild gallop to a trot. It was a small change, but enough to allow you to start feeling human again. 

Arthur stepped back and a small, shy smile spread across his face. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. 

You wiped your nose, bewildered. “‘Thank you’? For what?” 

“For coming here with me. For standing up for me the way you have. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”

“But, Arthur, I-”

“If you hadn’t been there for me, I’d be all alone right now,” he interjected. “Like I’ve been all my life. But I’m not alone anymore. Because of you.”

His shy smile shifted into a sly grin. He placed a soft kiss on your cheekbone. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered, before tenderly bringing his mouth to yours. 

Thank you for reading and for all the sweet, encouraging comments! I have struggled to write this as of late, but I'm committed to finishing this story and can't wait to share the rest of it with you. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

xx fleckficgirl

💗 Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @fallon779 @mama-ferret-art @cherryboss713 @lolwey @jokeringcutio @luckypurins @fruitcupsworld @skaravile @filmsandlovers @nocturneswallow

💗Master List

[hongcherry]

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 1

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [general tw (won't be repeated in the other chapters)] reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, reader is not nice, character outfit descriptors, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying | [chapter tw] “joke” that implies prostitution in a negative way, near car accident (rear end), brief mention of death thru a joke

🍒 WC: 14.8k

🍒 Betas: Huge shout out to my bae, @love-strike, for being with me throughout this whole process, for listening to me whine, for helping me brainstorm majors for OT13, and for being so supportive! tysm 😭 And thank you to @playmetheclassics, @here4kpopfics, @angelwoozi for also beta'ing this series! ty for your time and for your sweet feedback! i really cherish everyone's efforts and brains hehe 🥰💖 i understand this was not an easy task to take on.

🍒 Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!!!!!!! 🎂♥️ I started this fic in September 2022 and contemplated even publishing it multiple times. I think this will be the first fic I've worked on for so long and published. Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so that's exciting! It was supposed to be one long one-shot, but I ended up writing way too much for a one-shot LOL. I'm really proud of myself for powering through and not abandoning it, as I've done in the past. I also wrote this all in past tense and spontaneously decided to change it to present 😪 Anyway, please enjoy the start of this couple's journey 😁

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

When people say good students are those who arrive on time, you find it hard not to scoff. Professors should care more about how hard-working one is rather than if they show up on the dot.

Of course, you do try to make it on time, but can you really leave your house looking less than perfect? Absolutely not. Plus, the first fifteen minutes usually consist of professors getting set up for their classes, so you don’t feel like you are missing anything of importance.

Today is no different.

Ten minutes past the official class time, you stroll inside the room. Students are seated where they normally sit, some are on their phones, and others are trying to finish some last-minute homework assignments. It’s a fairly small class, and being in your senior year means everyone knows each other well. Although, most of the people in your class think ill of you and don’t talk to you.

At first, you thought it was a pity, but in the end, you realized you didn’t want to befriend those who would only talk shit behind your back. This is what you figured they did since they were never discreet when they exchanged whispers with their eyes glued to you. 

Luckily, you have at least one friend in the class. Quality over quantity, right?

“Right on time,” your friend, Dae, says with a sly smile when she spots you.

You chuckle and slide into the seat next to her. “Class started fifteen minutes ago.”

“It did, but you’re right on time for you,” she explains with a knowing grin.

“Guess I need to be more late from now on,” you tease as you take out your iPad.

The device is a holy grail to you. Majoring in fashion design means all your ideas and creations over the past few years are stored there. When you don’t have it, it’s stored in secret in your house. Maybe that’s a little excessive, but losing it would feel like losing a part of yourself. After all, art creations always include a part of the creator. The device almost feels like it’s an extension of yourself—something too personal for others to peek at.

Dae rolls her eyes. “Or you could come on time. That would be different.”

“Why would I? The first fifteen minutes are worthless,” you huff and open your notes.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Dae answers, sliding a piece of paper over. You glance down at it.

Prepare for the annual Senior Fashion Show! Students are to create their own fashion show with a theme of their choice. The show will be toward the end of the semester in the Main Theatre (official times and dates TBD). The project will count for 80% of your grade as this will require you to use all the skills you’ve acquired as a student. When creating your show, be sure to be mindful of the following…

“This was handed out at the beginning of class. Seems like we’re going to have to work with students from outside our department,” Dae comments after she gives you a few minutes to read everything.

So, this is it.

Every senior majoring in fashion design is required to participate. You attended every fashion show hosted during your time as a student here. You were always left in awe, motivated to be a student that would leave behind a name for themselves at the college. You want to inspire the next seniors just as the ones inspired you before.

While this assignment has your body giddy with excitement, there is a part you are dreading.

People skills are not your forte.

Not because you feel awkward talking to new people, but because the conversations always end unpleasantly. Sometimes with back-handed compliments, insults, or them trying to scold you. You hope that won’t be the case while recruiting volunteers.

“So, do we have the class period to start getting things together?” you question once you finish skimming through the instructions again. You’re responsible for a lot more elements than you anticipated. You need lighting, music, a theme, backstage helpers, hair and makeup artists, an advertiser, and most importantly, models. This is when you wish you had a large network. Though, every friend you tried to make didn’t end up lasting. Dae is the only person who has stuck by your side.

“Yup,” she replies. “We’ll be doing mini assignments throughout the semester to help us prepare. I think it’s just a way for Dr. Lim to give us grades so he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“Probably,” you sigh. You are already feeling stressed. Quickly, you scribble down a list of to-do’s in your notes.

“Do you have a theme in mind already?” Dae asks after a moment.

“No, do you?” you wonder.

Dae sits back in her chair, pen resting between her fingers. “I was thinking about something with space? Maybe my main colors will be blue, purple, and black.”

“Oh? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, though? Don’t you want to try something different?”

Although the question is harmless, the tone of your voice must have rubbed Dae the wrong way. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at you again.

“Think of it as branding, okay? Why does it bother you so much?” she wonders with a frown. Realizing your mistake, you inhale slowly.

“It doesn’t. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure your stage will do well,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips.

“No ‘sorry’?” Dae asks despite knowing it isn’t part of your favorite vocabulary.

You narrow your eyes at her. “Nope. Just don’t be so defensive next time.”

“You’re insufferable,” Dae answers. “One day, you will be sorry for your behavior.”

Shrugging, you say, “There’s always a chance, but maybe if the world wasn’t so insecure, saying sorry wouldn’t be so wanted.”

Dae exhales disapprovingly at your thought process, displeased with your reply. “Well, for now, maybe try to be more empathetic?”

“I have bigger things to worry about right now. For instance,” you start, a finger at the top of your to-do list, “I’ve got to find someone who can provide me with music.”

Fuck, it’s too loud in here.

The sounds of different instruments being played at once, all emitting different tunes, have a migraine bubbling in your head.

You make a beeline to the professor who is sitting in the corner. She is an older lady, evident by her wrinkles and gray hair. Yet, her features are soft, and the smile she gives you makes you feel at ease.

“Hello, miss, can I assist you?” she asks when you’re in hearing range.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could help me with an assignment?” you wonder and offer her a kind smile, hoping she won’t shoo you away immediately.

“Ah, it’s alright. They’re just practicing for an upcoming assignment today. What is it you need, dear?”

“Who would you consider your best student? Is there a way you can get me in contact with them?”

The professor’s eyes widen slightly at the question. She didn’t expect that. Nevertheless, her gaze rises to scan the classroom.

“There,” she points as discreetly as she can. You follow her finger, which lands on a blonde-haired guy tuning his guitar. “Lee Jihoon. He’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.”

“This semester?” you ask out of curiosity.

The professor shakes her head. “Ever.”

You can’t stop the small disbelieving huff that escapes you. The best student ever? You aren’t sure how long she’s been teaching, but you doubt out of all her time, he is the best. He looks too young.

“Now, now, don’t judge a book by its cover,” she scolds gently. You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the phrase. You’ve heard it too many times that its meaning lost its effect on you.

“What makes him your best student?” you question, sight going back to the man who is oblivious to your stare. He sits next to another student who also has a guitar. They seem to be friends from the way they are laughing together.

“His work is versatile and very good. I’m positive he will be the perfect person for your project.” The way she speaks about him makes you believe her. There was no waver to her voice, and her eyes hold a fondness in them you know one can’t replicate if not genuine.

“How long until they have their assignment due?” you wonder, realizing you may have to wait until the class ends before you could talk to him.

The professor smiles. “I’ll let them have five more minutes so you can introduce yourself.”

Internally, you sigh in relief. You’re grateful you don’t have to wait.

“Thank you,” you say before strolling to the man.

As you near, his friend glances up. He’s mid-sentence when he spots you, eyes growing slightly at the sight of you. You’re used to getting looks like that. Your fashion is always dressier than the average college student's. People just aren’t used to it.

“Hi,” the brunette friend says. He has prince-like features, and you almost consider asking him to be one of your models. You give him a small grin out of politeness before turning to the whole reason you came over.

“Lee Jihoon?” you ask.

Jihoon’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. “Uh, y-yeah. Do I know you?”

“No. My name’s Yn. I have a project in a class and need someone to provide music for me. You won’t get paid, but any extra experience is always good, right?” you greet, not wanting to dance around the subject. After all, this is only the first of many on your to-do list.

“What major are you in?” he wonders, brows knitted in confusion.

“Fashion design,” you answer.

Jihoon is silent for a moment. “And how did you find me?”

This guy is more difficult than you wished. You just need him to say yes.

“I asked for the best student, and you were recommended. So, what do you say? Will you help me?”

Jihoon gives you a small smile, but something about it rubs you wrong. “Sorry, my plate is a little full right now—”

“Do you need money? I can give you some afterward.”

You try not to sound desperate. Lee Jihoon is not the only music major—this is obvious by the amount of noise you hear in the background.

But you never settle for less than the best.

You have been looking forward to this project since your college tour here. 

“It’s not that,” Jihoon chuckles awkwardly. “I have other assignments I have to practice for, but I’m sure there will be someone else to help you. There’s a lot of talented students her—”

“But they’re not the best,” you interrupt. What else can you offer him that will make him say yes?

“Well, being the best is subjective,” Jihoon counters, voice light so you know he doesn’t mean it rudely.

You open your mouth to bargain with him more, but his friend leans into his ear. The noise from the other instruments behind you makes it hard to hear what they are saying.

Patience is something you rarely have. The longer you stand there waiting, the more annoyed you get.

“Look, you have almost a full semester to get a song done by then. I’m sure you can find some tim—”

“Fine,” Jihoon grumbles as he shoves his friend away. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” you pause. You are fully prepared to go down the mental list of how helping you will help him in return. One that will be complete bullshit, but if it gets him to say yes, then so be it. Luckily, you don’t have to. 

“Great!” you say.

You aren’t going to give him time to back out, so you quickly retrieve a business card you had made from your purse. It’s easier to exchange contact information, and you never know when you may run into someone important. Being in an artistic field means competition. You always need to have an eye out for something, or someone, that will help you get your name out there.

“Here’s my number. Please contact me before the day ends.”

Jihoon takes the card and examines it. “Got it. What kind of music will you need?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” you reply. He nods in response.

“I look forward to hearing your music. I’ll talk to you later then,” you say.

You have half a heart to wish them both luck on their assignment, but part of you is a little petty that Jihoon put you through some trouble. Instead, you give them a wave before turning on your heel.

As you’re leaving, you hear a loud sigh followed by a laugh from behind you. 

“Shut up, Shua,” Jihoon groans before the professor calls everyone’s attention.

Music, check. Now, what’s next?

As you make your way down the hallway, you stumble across Dae. She is surrounded by two other male students, none of whom you know. You don’t plan to greet her since she seems busy, but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile catches her attention.

“Yn!” she calls out cheerfully.

You halt in your tracks, turning to see her smiling at you. She gestures for you to come over, so you do.

“Hey,” you say to her.

“How’s your project going?” she asks.

“I got someone to help me with music,” you reply, then glance behind her to see the two guys staring at you. Dae follows your gaze and makes a small “oh!”

“Is that all? Do you have anyone for advertising or graphics?” Dae wonders, her voice seemingly excited.

“I don’t,” you answer hesitantly. Her eagerness has you worried.

“Perfect!” she exclaims, then turns to the others. “This is Yejun and Jeonghan. They’re both advertising majors. Yejun agreed to help me with my project, but Jeonghan,” she pauses to address the man. He has blonde hair that goes past his eyes. His soft features are handsome and almost angelic. 

“Jeonghan, would you mind helping my friend with hers? She’s super talented.”

Jeonghan glances at you, but before he can say anything, you ask him, “What are your skills? Do you have some work I could see first?”

Jeonghan looks taken aback. “O-oh, I don’t have a portfolio yet, sorry.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” you say before looking at Dae. “Thanks for trying to help me, but I’ll find someone else.”

Dae’s eyes narrow at you. “Come on, Yn. Jeonghan is really good!”

“Didn’t you just meet him?” you question and try to stop the scoff that threatens to escape.

“Well, yes, but Yejun has been my friend for a while, and I’ve seen his work. Yejun and Jeonghan have worked together as well, and their creations are unique!”

You inhale deeply, eyes roaming from your friend to Jeonghan. He offers you a smile.

“What your friend said,” Jeonghan replies with a small chuckle.

“Trust me on this,” Dae says. “Jeonghan won’t disappoint you.”

You don’t feel at ease agreeing to someone blindly. Dae’s definition of “really good” could be different from yours. Although her work is good, you feel your standards are way above hers. You had planned to ask for the best student for each assigned task, so having been offered a random helper with no proof of their credentials is unnerving. 

Granted, you haven’t heard Jihoon’s work, but you were sold on the way the professor spoke about him. Dae, on the other hand, is not a professor and could be biased as Yejun is her friend. Though, you still have a lot more positions to fill, and you need to do so soon.

Sighing, “Fine. You can work with me.”

From the way you word your sentence, it’s almost as if Jeonghan is supposed to jump up and down with glee. He doesn’t.

You grab another business card from your purse and hand it to Jeonghan. He takes it slowly.

“Just so you know, I have the right to replace you with someone else if I see your work isn’t fit,” you warn as Jeonghan slips the card into his pocket.

His eyes lock on yours. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers, not bothered by your comment.

“Oh?” you wonder and quirk an eyebrow up.

“Hm. You also need graphics, right? I have a person for that as well,” Jeonghan says.

“I haven’t seen their work yet—”

“You’re not very trusting, huh?” Jeonghan observes with a laugh. You shift your weight on one hip, not liking the way he is trying to tell you about your personality when he doesn't know you.

“I just know what I want, and I won’t settle,” you answer sharply.

Dae huffs next to you and gives you a gentle shove, indicating you to ease up. That isn’t going to happen.

Jeonghan doesn’t reply and instead takes out his phone. His fingers dance around the screen for a minute before he turns the device for you to see. On the screen is an Instagram account with various posts of different art and graphic pieces. Your eyes drift to the username. by_xuminghao_o. His art is impressive and definitely not an amateur like you half expected.

“So, about not settling,” Jeonghan trails off, a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips.

“I expect you both to contact me before the day ends,” is all you respond with.

Jeonghan pockets his phone and nods. He seems content with your answer even though you don’t confess the art meets your standards.

“All good then?” Dae asks, glancing between you two.

“We’re good,” Jeonghan replies and gives you another smile of his—one you are starting to hate seeing. There is just something about it that seems like he knows more things than you in a cocky, condescending way.

Yejun glances at his watch and then nudges Jeonghan.

“Thanks, ladies, but we have a class to attend. Nice to meet you, Yn,” Yejun says.

You hum in response while turning away from them. Dae says her goodbyes, watching as they leave before putting her focus on you.

“Do you have to be so picky?” she sighs.

“As I said, I know what I want. I’ve waited to do this project for years. It has to be perfect,” you explain and pull out your iPad. You check off music and advertising from your to-do list. Graphics aren’t listed, but you figure it will be a nice addition.

“I understand, but—”

“Just focus on your project, and I’ll focus on mine, okay?” you interrupt. You don’t feel like hearing her lecture you for a second time today.

“Alright,” Dae answers. “I’ll see you around,” she says, walking away before you can say anything else.

With her back turned, you roll your eyes at her attitude. It has your mood lowering, and you conclude you’re done with human interaction for now. You carefully place your iPad back in your bag, then make a beeline to the parking lot, ready to go home to figure out a theme for your show.

Home is somewhere you don’t enjoy being.

It always has this melancholy cloud looming over you. You can never seem to get rid of it completely. Even on the good days, it lingers in the corner of the room, always threatening to float above you. You doubt it will ever dissipate.

Your back is against the headboard of your bed, your iPad resting against your legs that are pulled to your chest. The music playing is too low for your liking, but you know if it’s any louder, your father will scold you for the high volume. Sometimes you will raise it just to get him to talk to you. Though today is not one of those days. You want to be left alone for once, which isn't usually too hard to do unless your sister needs attention. Like now.

“Today is the last day. Pleaseeee, Yn!” your sister whines at the foot of your bed. Her small body is bouncing with desperation and eagerness.

Reluctantly, you flicker your gaze up at her. The slight scowl on your face doesn’t seem to faze her… Probably because she’s seen it so much.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you exasperate, gesturing to your iPad.

Seoah frowns. “When are you not? Come on! It’ll take, like, ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to getting a Fallin’ Flower frap for months! You know it’s a seasonal drink.”

“Didn’t Dad say you couldn’t have any more sweets?” you say and peer down at your iPad again. You’re in the middle of brainstorming themes for your show. There are various words within bubbles, each connected with a line.

“I’ll just get a small,” she explains. When you don’t move, she walks around the bed to stand next to you. Her voice becomes softer, sadder. “You said you would take me. Dad can’t.”

“That was before I got assigned this project. It’s my—”

“Senior project that you’ve been looking forward to since your freshman year, yeah, I got it,” she responds, reciting what you’ve told her before.

You finally look at her once more. “I’ll take you for the next seasonal drinks, okay? They’re probably better anyway.”

“But I really want a Fallin’ Flower,” Seoah pouts.

“Next year,” you offer and return your attention to your homework.

“Yn—”

“Next year,” you repeat firmly without looking up.

Seoah pauses in her begging. You think she’s going to continue, but you hear the soft padding of her feet as she moves.

“Oh, Seoah?” you call out, glancing up.

She pauses by your door and looks up with some hope in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to shut the door all the way.”

“Right,” she mutters slowly, then leaves the room. You wait until you hear the door click close prior to getting back to work.

You sit on your bed the remainder of the day, only getting up to cook dinner for your father and sister. Your eyes feel strained and your body weak, but the sooner you pick a theme, the sooner you can get started. 

It’s days like these when your body is mentally and physically exhausted, that you miss your mom. You try not to think too much about her as it only makes the gloomy cloud above your head darker. 

Is she happier? Surely, she is. She is living her dream as a traveling journalist. Sometimes you will see her adventures if you peep at her social media. It’s self-torture to do so, but curiosity gets the best of you. You hope one day you’ll have the willpower to block all her accounts. 

At this point, you’re having the same conversation you have with yourself once a month. It never ends the way you want.

Inhaling deeply, you finish plating all the food before calling your family for dinner. While your father eats in his office, needing to continue his work, you and your sister eat in silence in the dining room.

Maybe one day things will change, but for now, you’ll have to settle with this.

You are about to knock on the door a second time when no one answers it. You have allotted only an hour for this meeting, so the longer you wait outside, the more you grow impatient. You have set mini-deadlines throughout the semester to ensure you will complete this assignment in a timely manner. You just hope your recruitees aren't going to slow you down.

Suddenly, the door is yanked open. Jeonghan stands on the other side, hair a little damp and a few wet spots on his shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he says hastily. “I thought I could shower quicker.”

“I told you eleven o’clock,” you scold. Jeonghan simply smiles.

“Never hurts to give people some wiggle room. Plus, aren’t you the early one?” Jeonghan leans back to view something. He looks at you after a few seconds. “It’s only three minutes past.”

“Early is on time,” you say as if that is an obvious life choice. Although you’re never really on time for classes, you reason that to be because the first fifteen minutes are a waste of time. This, on the other hand, is not. “Invite me in?”

Jeonghan moves aside and lets you enter. His apartment is tidy for the most part. It seems as if he had started to clean up but gave up toward the end.

“Where’s Minghao?” you wonder when you saw you were the only one here. He’s supposed to be here with Jeonghan, so you can all go over the advertising designs.

“He called and said he hit some traffic. Have a seat anywhere; I’m going to grab my laptop,” he instructs before jogging to another room. Shaking your head in disappointment, you glance around again.

Spotting his couch, you walk over and make yourself comfortable. You take out your iPad and open what you have so far—color ideas, font ideas, and a few mock-up fashion designs. It has been two weeks since you last saw Jeonghan. The majority of your tasks have already been assigned to people, but you still have to find a few more models.

“Alright, so, what’s the theme?” Jeonghan asks when he comes back. He sits down next to you, causing you to bounce slightly from his weight.

You angle your screen, so he can see it easier. “I decided on the four elements—water, ice, air, and earth. The title right now is Pinwheel.”

“This gives us multiple color options,” Jeonghan examines. “Maybe we could have five designs. One for each element and then one with all of them? That would give you a variety of exposure and make the audience feel they’re not looking at the same promo material every time.”

You sit still as you ponder his suggestion. “You don’t think people will get confused seeing different designs?”

“We can make it all tie in some way. You have your own logo, as I saw on your card. We can use that and the same fonts.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “That sounds—”

A knock on the door stops you.

“Ah, that must be Minghao. Do you mind getting that? I’m going to get my notepad, so I can try to sketch some layouts.”

You nod, setting your iPad down next to his laptop, then walking to the entrance.

“You’re late,” you groan while you pull open the door.

“Oh? Am I?” the person says with a little playful smile on his lips.

Although you’ve never met Minghao, you have seen pictures of him on his Instagram. You expected to see a head of blue hair, but you are greeted with black. Instead of a narrow face, his is slightly wider. He wears an oversized white shirt, jeans, and a colorful necklace. He looks like every other college student. Sure, he’s more handsome than the average, but not by much. Behind him are two women and one man.

“Can I help you?” you exhale a disheartened sigh when you conclude it isn’t Minghao. Meaning, he’s even later than you wished for.

The guy chuckles. “I doubt it, but Jeonghan can. Is he here?”

His voice is slightly deep. You may have found him soothing to listen to if it wasn't for his irksome words.

“He’s busy right now. You can come back in an hour, though,” you instruct and start to close the door. You don’t need any distractions.

The man sticks his foot out to stop you, causing you to exhale annoyed when you can’t get rid of him. You open the door slightly again.

“Just tell him I’m here,” he says, his teasing tone not so visible anymore but still light enough to not sound too rude.

“And who are you?” you question apathetically.

“Jesus,” someone hisses behind him before shouting, “Jeonghan, come here!”

Your eyes gaze past the man to see a woman with short-length dark hair. She eyes you haughtily, hand on the man’s forearm as if she were to push him away. Though she never does. She takes in your attire, and you once again get a look of judgment at your choice of dress. Your white dress paired with a same-colored, opened button down and beaded chain around your hips is apparently not her style.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks behind you. Reluctantly, you move aside so he can see. “Oh, Seungcheol! Right. One second. Come on in. I’ll get those papers for you.”

“Actually, do they need to come in? They’re not staying long,” you say quickly before any of them can move.

“Relax, princess, he’s just being friendly. You know, like when someone is kind, thoughtful, and considerate?” the girl questions as if you’re dumb and makes her way inside despite you standing close to the door. It forces you to move over. 

Her friends follow along. Three of them stand in the living room, while the second guy sits at the kitchen bar before pulling out his phone. You watch them with a fire inside your chest. Not only are Jeonghan and Minghao late, you now have to deal with this obstacle.

Just as you’re shutting the door, you see a glimpse of blue down the hall. Finally.

“You’re late,” you repeat, but to the correct person this time.

“I know, I’m sorry! Oh, are they helping too?” Minghao says, pausing at the entry when he sees the group of people inside.

“No. Get in,” you huff and point a finger in the apartment. Minghao enters without a fight.

“Hao!” the second girl exclaims with a smile.

Great. Do they all know each other?

“Hi, Hana,” Minghao greets with a gentle grin.

“What are you doing here?” Hana wonders.

“I’m helping Yn with her project,” he answers and gestures to you while you shut the door.

Hana looks your way, and you can see the distaste in her expression; however, she doesn’t say anything.

Jeonghan walks out of his room with a folder in his hand. “I hope this is what you need,” he tells the first man—Seungcheol, you presume.

Seungcheol smiles and takes it from him. He flips open the folder, doing a quick glance through the papers inside.

“Looks great,” he says. “Thanks for getting these for me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replies.

“Hannie, do you want to come to Shining Diamond with us this weekend?” the first girl asks, tilting her head in a way that appears as if she’s begging for a yes.

“Ah, this weekend?” he hesitates. “I have a test on Monday I was going to study for.”

“A few hours won’t hurt you,” she replies.

“Alright, Hajun, but only for an hour or so,” Jeonghan says with a not-so-stern voice.

“Great! Minghao, do you want to come, too?” Hajun asks.

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else, so sure.”

Hajun grins widely. Her eyes go past Minghao to see you standing in the corner, your arms crossed and eyes staring daggers at everyone.

She doesn’t say anything, but her look tells you you aren’t invited. As if you are silently begging to join. The thought makes you scoff quietly.

“Cool. You all scheduled your weekends,” you start and walk back to the couch. You turn briefly to Seungcheol, who is eyeing you already. “And you got your things. Can we please continue?”

Your gaze shifts to Jeonghan at your question. He offers you an apologetic look before nodding.

“I’ll see you all this weekend. You can text me the time,” he says while walking to the door.

“We can decide that now,” Hana suggests.

“Or over text like Jeonghan said,” you interject. She narrows her eyes at you.

“Be patient. It’ll only take a few minutes,” she replies.

A few minutes, my ass.

“I’d rather you use those minutes to walk out the door.” You give her a faux smile.

“Have some respect,” Hajun scolds.

You laugh though you don’t find any of this humorous. “What a hypocrite. How about you respect people’s times?”

“I did tell Yn I’d help her,” Jeonghan cuts in sheepishly and opens the door to hint at them to leave. “I’ll text you all later, or you guys can come back in a bit.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingers on yours as he walks toward the door. Your eyes catch on his as he makes his way into your line of sight. His stare has an unsettling feeling form in your stomach, and you contemplate asking what his problem is. Before you can, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Thanks again,” he says as he lifts the folder.

“No problem. Talk to you later,” Jeonghan replies.

All his friends have filed out except for the one male who hasn’t said a word. He glances at you. You expect to receive another jab about who knows what. Instead, he gestures at your body.

“Nice chains,” he compliments with a smile.

Your eyes widen slightly as you glance down briefly at your outfit. That was certainly unexpected. “Uh, thanks.”

“Come on, Vernon!” Hana yells from the doorway. Vernon gives you a thumbs up, which is uncanny given the situation, then follows his friends out the door.

Once they leave, you narrow your gaze at Jeonghan and Minghao. They’re quick to apologize again and start asking questions about your project before you can lecture them. Lucky for them, your hour is almost up, so there isn't enough time to do that anyway.

Weeks go by with you working nonstop on your project. Annoyingly, you also realize that the majority of the people you recruited to help all know each other. It usually isn’t something to be irritated by, but each time they run into each other, they usually end up making small talk that you have to break up. They can do that on their time, not yours. Even more frustrating is that this so-called Seungcheol and his groupies know them all as well. Their reactions to seeing you are always the same—ones of displeasure. Though the feeling is mutual.

You learn they are all business majors, except for Vernon. Well, he was a business major, but he plans to switch to something else. You can’t blame him. If all the business majors act revolting, you would leave that department as well.

Seungcheol… He isn’t as bad. 

You have only ever hung out with him by himself for less than five minutes. Those conversations spur when you’re both left alone after one of your “mutual friends,” because none of these people are your actual friends, abandon you both. The conversations are awkward and never hold any weight. He doesn’t throw snide remarks at you, but his presence still makes you uneasy with the possibility. You’re normally the first to leave because of that. Maybe if he didn’t have those obnoxious friends, you could tolerate him more. You can’t help but associate him with them though. You simply want to get away from them, even if that includes him. Not that you are craving his presence anyway. You barely know him and aren’t interested in changing that.

“Those are looking awesome so far!” Dae exclaims when she peers over your shoulder to see your sketches.

You smile at her and set your iPad down on the table. The weather outside is perfect, given the cool breezes in the heat. It eases your mind, and you feel more creative being in a new environment.

“Thanks, how are yours coming along?” you question and wait for her to angle her own iPad to you. On the screen are various designs, each with a hint of purple or blue.

“Those are neat,” you compliment.

“Yeah?” she says and beams at you. “What about this one? I think the shoulder looks a little weird.”

You reach over, using two fingers to zoom in on the screen to examine it.

“Maybe just lower this,” you gesture on the screen, careful as to not move the screen on accident. “You could take this part out too and make it asymmetrical.”

Dae hums, lips pursed in thought. “I’ll try it. I guess I won’t really know until it’s on someone.”

You nod in agreement before focusing on your designs again. After a while, Dae excuses herself from your homework session. She had planned to meet with one of her helpers. You bid her a quick goodbye.

Ten minutes pass when you see someone standing in front of your table, blocking your sunlight. Your eyes rise to see who it is.

“Hi,” Seungcheol greets.

You straighten your posture upon seeing him. He wears a basic navy suit that fits him well. To your surprise, it actually looks decent on him. Your eyes dart around him to see if any of his friends came.

“Just me this time,” he answers the question in your head.

“What is it you need?” you ask blankly.

“Must I need something?” he retorts.

You suppress the eye roll you want to give him. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me about your day.”

“I can if you want,” he responds, then to your utter dread, he sits down across from you. From the position he is sitting at, the breeze is blowing his hair forward and into his face. He raises a hand to push it back, but it’s no use.

“You can spare me. Tell me what you want and go,” you instruct. This is the first time he has approached you—and alone, for that matter. You don’t want to make it a regular thing.

“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles.

“I just don’t like my time being wasted,” you explain.

“So, I’m wasting your time now?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“Should I spell it out for you?” you scoff. It should be obvious that you don’t feel like talking to him.

“You can try, but do you know how to spell it?” he stares at you through the hair on his face. Even though you can’t see him clearly, you can tell he has a challenging gleam in his eyes.

“At this point, I think you just came to bother me,” you sulk.

He smirks at you. “I didn’t, but it is a little fun to see your feathers ruffled.”

“They’re perfectly content being unruffled.”

Seungcheol chuckles at your response. He pushes his hair back, but this time he rests his hand against his head, keeping his hair in place. His elbow is propped on the table while his other arm lays flat on the surface. 

All the times you have seen him, his hair has covered part of his forehead. Now, it’s all exposed, and you feel you can see him. Maybe it’s because he’s donning a suit for once, but he looks almost… handsome like this—dressed formally with a small glint in his eyes and his lips spread in a gentle smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies. “I think you need to have more fun.”

Well, he was handsome until he opened his mouth.

“I don’t need a stranger telling me how to live my life,” you say.

“A stranger? I would think we’re at least acquaintances,” he frowns.

“You only see me because your friends are helping me. Speaking of, is that why you’re here? Does it have anything to do with one of them?”

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, and you can’t stop your eyes from lowering to his mouth.

“Maybe,” he answers slowly. Your eyes snap back to his when he speaks. He gives you a knowing smile that has you shifting in your seat. You had only looked at his lips because he brought attention to them. Nothing more.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you groan, finally unleashing the eye roll you have been trying not to do.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy. The need to be alone becomes stronger with each second.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice returning to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From the way he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they are cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket. You want to ask why he is wearing that, but that will mean you will prolong this conversation. Fortunately for you, he starts to stand up before you succumb to the temptation.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

The second time Seungcheol approaches you by himself is a few days later when he catches you exiting a building he is approaching.

“Don’t tell me someone else lost my card as well,” you say after he calls your name. You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for his response.

“About that,” he starts sheepishly.

You put your weight on one hip and cross your arms, and set your mouth in a straight line. You wait for him to tell you who is the perpetrator.

“I may have left your card in my suit jacket when I washed it.”

Well, that explains why you haven’t received a message from Seokmin yet.

“Seriously, Seungcheol?” you exasperate.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says, lips pouting and eyebrows angled.

Shaking your head, you retrieve another card. You make a mental note to restock later as you are running out.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab it from you, but you quickly pull back.

“Put this in your bag,” you instruct. 

You slowly give him the card and watch as he slings his bag around to his front. He makes a show of unzipping one of the front pockets and sliding it inside.

“Done,” he says, acting like he should be rewarded for doing as he was told.

“Good. Is that all?” you wonder. You’ve just finished your last class of the day, and all you want to do is climb into bed.

“Yes.”

Seeing no need to continue the conversation, you start walking in the direction of the parking lot.

“Great. Bye, Seungcheol,” you say over your shoulder.

“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, walking briskly to be by your side. “We’re going in the same direction.”

You peer up at him momentarily. “That doesn’t mean we have to walk together.”

“You said before we’re strangers. This would help us not be that anymore,” he shrugs casually.

“I never said I wanted that,” you reply flatly.

“It might benefit us since we’ll have to see each other a lot.”

“Is that so?” you sigh sadly.

Seungcheol smiles at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You did ask my friends to help you.”

“Well, if I knew you were a package deal, I wouldn’t have.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad.”

Sighing, you slow your steps to look at him better. He stops next to you, awaiting your response. His gaze is hopeful, but you’re not sure why.

“I’ll agree if you leave me alone,” you finally say.

Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown. “I’ll get you to admit it one day.”

He starts to walk again before you can reply. Now is your chance to let him get a few feet from you. You have the opportunity to finally end this conversation you’ve been dreading. Though, for some strange reason, your feet quickly move on their own accord.

Seungcheol’s steps are small, and you catch up with him easily. Neither of you says a word, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

Instead of parting ways once you reach the parking lot, he follows you to your car. Something about it being dangerous for you to walk to it alone, even though it’s light out.

“Yn?” he says to catch your attention when you open your door. You turn and give a small “hm?” in response.

“My friends and I plan to go to this poetry lounge in two weeks. Would you want to come?” he asks. You aren’t sure why he appears to be anxious.

The shock you feel must be evident on your face because Seungcheol’s apprehensive expression relaxes into a gentle smile.

“Business friends or our ‘mutual ones’?” The idea doesn't sound so bad if you are hanging out with the people who are helping you. Although you have your issues with them, they aren’t that bad to be around if you’re being honest.

“Business.”

That’s not what you want to hear.

“Do your friends know you’re asking me this?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, but I don’t need their permission. What do you say?”

You can’t recall being invited to a night out with someone other than Dae. If you were to go out without Dae, it would be with your family or for a class assignment. To be invited to a place by Seungcheol, out of all people, catches you off guard.

Despite having an opportunity for a different change of pace, you answer, “No.”

“No?” he asks, perplexed.

“Your friends don’t like me, Seungcheol,” you explain matter-of-factly through a sigh, leaning against your open door.

“They just like to tease you. I’ll talk to them before,” he explains. 

Tease is a funny way to describe it, you think.

“I don’t need you fighting my battles,” you answer, referring to the latter part of his reply.

“Still. I want you to enjoy yourself. You’ve probably been glued to that project of yours. Step away for a bit,” he reasons.

He isn’t wrong. Your focus has solely been on the project. Of course, you have other classes, but you aren’t putting as much effort into them as you are this one.

“I’ll pick you up and pay for any expenses,” he offers. The more he talks, the more taken aback you are. You figured he’d drop the offer once you rejected him. From every interaction you’ve had with these “friends,” it never ends well. You doubt this will be any different. Regardless, something in you feels a little… honored he is so adamant about getting you to come.

Thus, hesitantly, “Fine.”

Seungcheol’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay. I can give you my number, so you can text me your address.”

He starts to pull out his phone, but you stop him.

“No need,” you say. At Seungcheol’s confused expression, you continued with a faint smile, “You have my card.”

His mouth opens briefly in realization before the corners are pulled up.

“One step ahead, I see,” he teases, pulling it out to inspect it as if confirming your number is there. You suppose he may think you’re lying to get out of going.

“I’ll text you then,” he concludes and places the card back.

“Alright,” you say, shifting your weight. You aren’t sure if he wants to say anything else. Why are you giving him the time to? You have already given him enough of it.

Sensing your readiness to leave, he waves as he slowly takes steps backward. “Drive safely, Yn.”

“You too, Seungcheol.”

You climb into your car’s seat, turn on the engine, and watch as he makes his way through the maze of cars until he is out of sight.

That Friday comes sooner than you would’ve liked.

Throughout the times you had met with your “friends,” you had bumped into Seungcheol one-third of the time. Sometimes, you were left alone with him again. Each interaction you had with him became easier the more you talked to him. 

Dare you to admit; his presence wasn’t actually teeth-gritting anymore? At least when he was alone, you didn’t have to deal with his business friends. Despite him not usually laughing at their jokes, he never really stepped in to stop them teasing you at first. Maybe only a few times when he felt things got too heated. He wasn’t your best friend, but part of you did hope he would’ve said something. 

Each time he didn’t, you felt your disappointment rise. He apologized on their behalf constantly, but his apology meant nothing when they kept insulting you. However, lately, he has been stepping in sooner. Although you didn’t want him fighting your battles initially, some things you couldn’t do alone. One thing you and his business friends had in common was that no one really knew where the sudden change of attitude came from. For once, you didn’t complain, though.

You’re tempted to cancel this outing, but talking to Seungcheol a few days ago made you realize he was a little more excited than he was letting on. The reason is unknown to you—maybe he really likes poetry lounges—but you’d feel slightly guilty if you ditch last minute.

It’s not like you haven’t been out on a Friday night with people, yet your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You have changed about six times, exchanging your accessories with each outfit. Normally, you would dress up more, but these aren’t your friends you’re about to hang out with. They are Seungcheol’s—business majors who think skirts more than two inches above the knees mean you’re a slut. Though, you can’t figure out why that matters. You never dress with the thoughts of others. If you want to wear something that day, even if it’s “over-the-top” for some, you wear it. So, why are you in such a fashion dilemma now?

In the end, you settle for a simple, spaghetti-strapped red dress that is slightly bunched on the sides with strings that are tied in bows. You pair it with a small, heart-shaped purse and white heels. There isn’t any bling in your outfit, which is unusual for you. The accessories you wear are minimal and small. They are a matching cherry set you were gifted by your mother on your 12th birthday. Although it’s been years since you received them, they’re still wearable and delicate enough not to call much attention—unlike some of your other accessories. 

You reach for a white fur jacket only to stop when your fingers graze it. Your eyes travel to yourself in the mirror as you debate on wearing it. The jacket will be too much, you conclude.

The buzzing of your phone catches your attention. It’s Seungcheol telling you he’s five minutes away. After stuffing your phone in your purse, you quickly apply red lipstick and toss it in your purse for later touch-ups.

When your phone buzzes again, you hurry to your front door. Your family is home, and you don’t want Seungcheol to meet them. Life at home isn’t ideal, and the only person who has a hint of what is going on is Dae. You doubt Seungcheol will find that out from one quick meeting, but you don’t want to risk it.

You throw your door open, ready to meet him at his car. Instead, he stands in front of you with a hand raised. He takes a step back in surprise. His eyes glide down your body quickly, but you’re too concerned about your family coming to notice.

“Oh, hey,” he greets. “I was just about to knock.”

Before any of your family can intervene, you close the door and start your way down the porch steps. Seungcheol follows you.

“You didn’t have to. I can make my way to your car by myself,” you answer. Although you’ve never been in his car before, you’ve seen it around. Plus, it’s the only unknown vehicle near your home.

You stand next to the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it, arms wrapped around your body when the chilly weather hits you.

“You sure you don’t want a jacket?” he asks when he notices you didn’t bring one.

“It didn’t go with my outfit,” you explain. It’s a lie. The coat did go with your fit, but you didn’t feel like disclosing the fashion crisis you had gone through.

Seungcheol chuckles. “So, you’re going to freeze instead?”

“It’s not that cold,” you lie again.

“It’ll get colder later, though,” he explains and comes closer to you. You step aside when he is a few inches from you. You press your arms tighter around you, eyes averting from his because of his close proximity. The small distance has you wanting to squirm away, but your feet can’t move. He peers at you with a small smile while he reaches behind you.

“My lady,” he murmurs when he pulls the door open and gestures for you to get inside.

“How chivalrous,” you reply after you force your nervousness away. You carefully slide inside his car, situating yourself comfortably in the seat.

Seungcheol waits to ensure you have all your limbs inside before shutting the door. As he walks around to the other side, your eyes scan his car. The seats are leather, and the interior has higher tech than you thought it would. It is a nice car—not overly luxurious, but enough to show it isn’t cheap. It makes you wonder how much it costs.

“You warm enough?” Seungcheol questions after he gets in and buckles.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, hands resting awkwardly in your lap. The heat from the vents aids in your goosebumps disappearing.

Your mind is already wondering what to expect tonight. You know his friends aren’t fond of you. At least most of them. That guy, Vernon, seems nice enough. He is the quiet one in the group; however, you did notice he has his own quirks that make him unique. You foresee yourself hanging out with him most tonight. But even then, you don’t feel too great about going.

The longer you sit in Seungcheol’s car, the more you regret agreeing to this.

He stares at you for a moment; brows knitted together slightly. You feel uncanny acting so meek, and Seungcheol can't help but notice.

Silence consumes the small area for a few seconds until Seungcheol says, “Seatbelt.”

You look at him confused, then realize he is talking to you. Of course he is, who else?

“Right,” you mumble, quickly pulling the belt over your body.

“You don’t have to come, you know?” he says with one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick.

You sigh and gesture to the road ahead. “Let’s just get going. I’ve got stuff to do after.”

It isn’t completely a lie. You still have to work on bringing your designs to life for the show, but it isn’t like you are behind schedule that you need to do that tonight. You just know you might actually back out if you ponder on leaving more.

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, averting his focus to the road. He doesn’t reply and obliges to your request by shifting the car into drive.

During the ride, your gaze drifts to Seungcheol. He is relaxed in his seat. One arm stretches to hold the wheel while his other rests on his thigh. One which is clad in a pair of light-washed jeans with a black belt between the jean loops. He wears a white shirt tucked in and a black jacket.

You peer forward slightly to read what his shirt says. Propriety of Balenciaga? The Balenciaga? You don’t think he’s wealthy enough to afford one of those shirts. Perhaps it was a gift or a knock-off brand? Maybe he thrifted it… Though, Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the thrifting type.

“Do you need this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s holding his jacket open to show you what he means. You must’ve been staring too much.

“No, I’m okay,” you say and turn your attention away quickly. “I just didn’t realize you wore glasses.”

Although the comment is true, you need something to say before he questions why you truly are staring at him. You had noticed the spectacles earlier but didn’t feel like mentioning them.

Seungcheol laughs lightly, “Actually, I don’t. I just thought I’d try to improve my fashion. What do you say, did it work?”

He glances at you after stopping at a traffic light; his mouth quirks up in a teasing smile. You turn toward him and scan his face quickly. They do look good on him, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

“They certainly did something, but whether that effect is good or bad is a secret,” you reply, looking away again.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting to admit they look nice on me,” Seungcheol says and continues driving at the green light.

“I think they’d look better on someone else,” you answer. Though, you don’t believe what you said. Something about the glasses on him has you wanting to stare at him more. They fit his face well and make him appear more attractive. You don’t want to sit on that thought for much longer.

“Is that so? Here,” he says, pulling them off his face. The glasses come into your view, and you stare at him, puzzled. 

When you don’t take them, he adds, “They won’t bite.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and finally grab them from his grasp. You pull down his sun visor to look at yourself. After sliding on the spectacles, you turn your head from side to side to see the different angles.

“I think I was right. They do look better on someone else,” you tease and face him as you shut the visor. Seungcheol turns to you at your reply.

His eyes wander across your face, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll have to agree with you this one time,” he says. His stare lingers on yours so much that it has you shifting in your seat. When you avert your gaze, your eyes widen.

“Cheol!” you shout as he was about to rear-end another car. Instinctively, he shoots an arm out across your chest that has your back pressing firmly against the seat. The sudden act causes you to reach up and grab onto his arm tightly.

The car screeches as it comes to a sudden halt. Luckily in time to not hit the other car.

You both sit still, breathing intensified at the near accident. After a few seconds, Seungcheol retracts his arm. It’s then you realize you’re still holding onto him. Your eyes dart to his forearm and frown when you see small crescent shapes indented in his skin.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Seungcheol’s focus is ahead of him but glances at you in confusion at your apology. “What?”

You quickly gesture to his forearm. When he sees the marks, he rubs a hand over them absentmindedly. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you reply, heart rate slowing down to normal.

“I’m alright. Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make you play dress up in the car.”

“No, it was my fault.”

Seungcheol eases on the gas pedal when the light turns green, keeping a safe distance from the car in front. He remains quiet for a while to ensure you are both safe.

“Are you sure you’re okay? First, you apologize, and now something is your fault?” he jokes.

You don’t remember what you said a few minutes ago, so it takes a while for you to comprehend what he is saying. “Shut up,” is all you can respond with in the end.

Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t pester you about it any longer.

“Oh, you can take these back,” you say and tug off the reason for almost hitting another car.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides the glasses back on his face.

You nestle yourself back in the seat again and glance out the window. As the buildings pass, it dawns on you that you’ve never called him Cheol. The thought of using a nickname for him has your body tingle with an unknown feeling. It’s strange. You aren’t the first to call him that, but you aren’t that close to him to start using nicknames. Annoyingly, you spend the remainder of the car ride fretting about how he felt toward you shortening his name. 

Did he even notice? If he did, did he like it? Had you crossed a line?

When he parks, you become acutely aware of everyone’s attire. Many wear jeans or tights with a plain shirt and jacket. A few have on skirts or dresses, but they are more t-shirt dresses or plain skater skirts, if anything. Plus, they are accompanied by tights because of the weather. No one has as much skin showing as you do.

The sinking feeling of not belonging consumes you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this way, and that alone has you questioning yourself even more.

“I’m too dressed for this, aren’t I?” you think out loud.

Seungcheol turns off the car, eyes raking your body again. Though this time, you’re aware of it. You tug down the bottom of your dress at his stare. It’s not like it’s predatory, but it still has your nerves skyrocketing.

“Since when did you care about what others thought of your outfit?” he wonders. The question has you sighing, momentarily closing your eyes as you remind yourself you dress for you, not for others’ approval.

“Right,” you swallow harshly and sling your purse over your shoulder—mentally throwing away the negative thoughts too. “Let’s just go.”

With that, you open his car door and step out.

“Yn wait—” you hear Seungcheol call out right as you shut the door.

Your hair is immediately pushed from your face as the wind blows past. It makes your body shiver, and for a split second, you wish you took up Seungcheol’s offer to grab a jacket when you were at your house.

Seungcheol’s car beeps as it locks before he stands in front of you. His broad body blocks the wind, and you feel your own ease from feeling a tad warmer.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude,” he apologizes softly. “I think you look great.”

You look at him, face void of emotion. You don’t believe him, but you don’t want to argue. At least not standing in this weather. 

“Okay,” you reply. “We need to go meet your friends.”

You take a step forward, thinking it will get him to start walking toward the building, but he doesn’t budge. You only decrease the distance between you two.

“I mean it,” he whispers.

Goosebumps are forming on your exposed skin the longer you stay out. You blame the cold weather for them, but something in your chest tightens at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.

“I think red is your color,” he pauses. “You should wear it more, Cherry.”

Your head tilts at his last word. “Cherry?”

The corner of his mouth raises at hearing it from your lips. Slowly, he brings a hand to your face. You stand still as you stare at him with wide eyes. His hand brushes past your cheek before he grazes his fingertips along your ear. 

“It suits you,” he murmurs, eyes moving away from yours. 

You follow his gaze and realize he has been looking at your cherry-charmed earrings. His eyes then flicker to the matching cherry-charmed necklace resting below your bare collarbones. You’re not sure if he means the color suits you or if the nickname he just made suits you. Either way, you’re surprised at his words.

Suddenly, the weather doesn't feel as chilly anymore. Your body heats quickly at his comment, or maybe it’s from how close he is to you. Nevertheless, you need to distract yourself from this warm, odd feeling bubbling in your chest.

You clear your throat and step back. His hand lowers steadily.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply more confidently and clearly.

Seungcheol takes the hint and moves aside, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He nods his head in the direction of the building, and you start walking toward it. Your pace is slightly faster than his, but you don’t mind not walking next to him. If anything, you need distance from him anyway.

The moment you open the door to the lounge, the heat from inside greets you in full force. You step inside and are welcomed by a worker. He is young, maybe a few years younger than you. He gives you a friendly smile.

“Hi, are you wanting to be seated, or are you with a group already?”

“With a group,” you reply. The worker nods.

“Do you need help locating them?”

You shake your head as the jingle of the door opening sounds behind you. Seungcheol stops behind you. His hand comes to hover over your lower back, not really touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiate from his hand onto your skin. It has you shuffling away.

“They’re over there,” he says. You peer up to see where he is gesturing. Fair enough, you see his friends at a table toward the back of the building. There are five of them, all smiling at each other. You can spot a few familiar faces—one of them being Vernon. You feel a little at ease knowing he made it here.

“Thanks,” you murmur to the worker before making your way to the table. The closer you get to the table, the slower your steps become. You’re used to keeping your chin high in situations you aren’t completely comfortable in. The whole “fake it until you make it” is on repeat in your head.

Yet the saying is not encouraging you much right now.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Seungcheol asks when he catches up to you. You don’t realize you had stopped a few feet from the table.

“No,” you say. You aren’t mad at him; you just need some space from him for now. You don’t like how you aren’t in control of your emotions when you’re around him. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”

Seungcheol eyes you for a second before nodding. You make your way to the bathroom, but right before you enter, you can hear the welcoming echoes coming from his table of friends. All of them sound cheerful and excited to see him. You don’t expect any of them to look forward to your presence, yet you feel a little disappointed when no one brings up your name—in a positive way.

After using the restroom and washing your hands, you stand in front of the mirror with your hands lingering under the warm water. Your eyes roam your face and body, taking in your appearance. Compared to your normal fashion, you really did dress down. You sigh when you realize you’re circling back to the same issue.

You retract your hands from the faucet and grab a few towels to dry them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re overly dressed. You usually are and don’t care. You look great. You should feel confident in your fit. 

You gently tug the dress down before turning in front of the mirror.

You look fine. You look nice.

As you reapply your lipstick, you keep repeating compliments and reassuring phrases in your head. 

They’re going to look at you funny. You are going to ignore them.

“That’s right,” you sigh to yourself as you toss the lipstick back into your purse. 

Suddenly, your phone starts to vibrate. You pull it out to see Dae’s name appear across the top. You eagerly answer her call.

“Hey babe,” Dae’s voice comes from the other line. “How’s it going?”

“I’m ready to go home,” you say with a small huff.

“Damn, that horrible? Is he treating you badly?” Dae questions. You had told her about Seungcheol’s invitation when you got home that day. She was shocked, but ultimately supportive of you going.

You shake your head despite her not being able to see you. “No, he’s been fine. I just,” you pause. Although you have your ups and downs with Dae, she has stayed with you when no one else has. You don’t disclose your troubles often, wanting people to not see that side of you, but you’re feeling too low that you can’t stop the confession from coming out.

“I’m way overdressed for this place. Everyone’s in jeans or tights. I don’t belong here,” you say.

Dae sighs sadly. “Jeans are boring. I think I only own a pair,” she answers, trying to make you smile. “Just remember, if you were to die right now, would you want your last outfit to be something boring?”

“No,” you answer slowly.

“Exactly. These are people who are used to looking plain. They’re probably jealous you’re outdressing them. Don’t let them get to you, Yn. I’m sure you look beautiful.”

Your shoulders ease at her words. “Thanks, Dae.”

“No need. If they had the talent to dress themselves better, they would.”

You let her words sink in, but the reassurance doesn’t last long.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, beginning to pace the small area in the bathroom.

“It’s good for you to be around people from outside our department. It’ll make you more open-minded,” she encourages. “Plus, Seungcheol isn’t as bad as he seemed, huh?”

There is a teasing tone to her voice that you don’t like.

“One outing with him doesn’t mean he’s my friend,” you argue.

Dae giggles. “No, but it’s a start. Do you like him?”

“No!” you answer quickly.

“I was just asking in general. Not ‘like’ as in crushing on him,” she explains nonchalantly, but you can hear her smile.

“He’s,” you pause as you try to think of a word to describe him, “he’s been alright.”

“Well, I better let you get back to him then. I just wanted to check in,” Dae answers.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you say.

“Remember, you don’t need their approval. You never have, and you never will. People want the confidence you have.”

“I’m not feeling too confident right now,” you mumble.

“That’s because you’re overthinking. Chin up, okay?”

Sighing, you reply. “Okay.”

“Good. Talk to you later!”

“Yeah,” you say before hanging up.

Taking one last look at yourself, you roll your shoulders back and exit the bathroom.

Seungcheol is sitting in the middle of Hajun and someone you don’t know. His eyes lift to meet yours when he hears the sound of your heels.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. 

Nodding, your eyes roam for a spot to sit.

“You knew you were just going to a poetry lounge, right? Not the runway,” Hajun comments with a small scoff.

Your eyes move to look at her, and you quirk an eyebrow. She wears leggings with a graphic tee. Her discarded jacket is slung over the back of her chair. “Are you sure you know that, as well? Or did you think you were just going back to your bed?”

“This is how normal people dress,” she replies.

“Relax, Hajun,” a voice you don’t know sounds. You direct your attention to them. 

The guy has black hair that is parted on the side to expose his forehead. His eyes are narrow, and even though he has a soft appearance now, you’re sure his gaze can be fierce when needed. 

“People don’t need to dress up for special occasions,” he says.

You’re taken aback by his comment. Seungcheol’s friends have always questioned your wardrobe, so for this new “friend” to not agree with Hajun is surprising. 

“No, they don’t, but you gotta’ admit she’s a little overdone huh, Soonyoung?” Hajun replies.

“Hajun,” Seungcheol interjects, giving her a pointed look.

“I understand not everyone knows how to dress. It’s okay, though. I can offer my services if you need some help,” you comment, half tempted to reach in your bag to get a business card. Although you aren’t on campus, you never know when you’ll run into someone who will make a good connection, so you keep them with you wherever you go.

“Services?” Hajun laughs and rests her crossed arms on the table. “And what ‘services’ are you offering? Because from the looks of it, I can tell exactly what you offer. Sorry, I’m not interested.”

Her eyes roam your body once more, indicating that the way you are dressed, means your services consist of paying to be with people in bed.

“I don’t think those services would help you anyway. Your rotting attitude is enough to repel anyone. Though I guess some people are willing to lower their standards when they’re desperate,” you counter.

“You’re such a—” she starts.

“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks Hajun quickly, but he doesn’t give her the option to answer because he takes her hand and pulls her away from the group.

The table is silent for a few seconds before Soonyoung speaks up again.

“Don’t pay any mind to her. It’s nice to meet you. You must be Yn?” He smiles at you, slightly bowing at you.

“Correct,” you say, trying to not show how irritated you feel.

“Come sit,” he offers, pulling up a chair so you’re sat between him and Vernon. You thank him before sitting in the chair. You sit your purse in your lap as conversations begin to spark again.

Their voices become background noise as your gaze drifts to Seungcheol and Hajun in the corner. They stand close to each other and are in a deep conversation—clearly about you. Seungcheol has his back to you, so you can’t see his expression, but you can see Hajun’s. Her lips are in a frown, her expression not as sassy as before. 

Though her pouting seems forced, her bottom lip a little too far stuck out. Soon enough, she rolls her eyes, an expression similar to how it was earlier. Her eyes then move from him to you over his shoulder. When she catches your gaze, she smiles and raises a challenging eyebrow. However, her gaze doesn’t last long because Seungcheol’s hand comes up and guides her eyes back to him. Even though his hand isn’t touching her completely, she leans into his touch. The act has you stilling.

“Yn?” Vernon questions, tearing you from your thoughts. You don’t realize you’re clutching your purse until your focus goes to Vernon. You ease your grip and raise an eyebrow.

“Soonyoung was asking what your major was,” Vernon explains.

“Oh,” you say, glancing around the table. It appears the others are in their own conversation.

You look at the man to your left. He gives you a reassuring smile that tells you he is patient. “I’m studying fashion design. Are you in business, too?”

Soonyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I could never. I’m a dance major.”

“Wow, that sounds nice,” you say. “Aren’t your career choices limited with that, though?”

“A little,” Soonyoung replies honestly. He doesn’t seem offended by the question. Maybe he gets it a lot. “But it makes me happy. I can always teach or maybe even become a dancer in a well-known group.”

You hum, understanding his words.

“Isn’t fashion design limited, too?” Vernon asks.

“Clothes are everywhere. I can do a lot with it.”

“But not everyone will wear your clothes,” Hana says, having finally heard your discussion.

“There will always be someone,” you argue, confident in your work. It may be a slow start, but you believe in your designs.

She laughs. “Who? Your mother?”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of your mom, and Hana is quick to notice the change in attitude. Instead of letting go of the topic, she continues.

“Ooh, trouble at home? See? I knew the ‘Great Yn’ isn’t as perfect as she seems,” Hana says. What makes her think you are so “great” is unknown to you, but you aren’t surprised to guess people have made up a persona for you. 

“Stop, Hana,” Vernon says, but it has no effect.

“Oh, so we were right?” Hajun’s voice comes from above. You glance up to see she and Seungcheol have returned. It appears their little chat did nothing to keep Hajun from being a bitch.

“Seems so,” Hana says with a smile. “Care to share with the class what kind of mommy issues you have?”

“No wonder she dresses like that,” Doyun, another one of Seungcheol’s alleged friends, adds. “She’s not getting attention at home. I guess Daddy isn’t there either?”

“That’s enough,” Seungcheol scolds them all.

Your eyes are darting from everyone at the table. Their stares are akin to shrink rays, making you feel tiny and minuscule. You know when you aren’t welcomed, and there’s no reason to stay listening to this. You want to snap back, end the conversation with your own last words, but nothing comes to mind.

In lieu, you push your chair back and stand up. Your hands twitch with the temptation to dump their food all over them, but you just want to get out as soon as possible. 

You waste no time careening for the exit. 

Seungcheol calls your name; you ignore it. The worker from before sees you, telling you goodbye, but you couldn't care less and push past the door before he can finish his sentence.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sudden breeze that slams into you. Instantly, your arms wrap around you once more. You glance around and see a bus stop down the street. You don’t care that it’s the other way from Seungcheol’s car. You hurry to the station, not sure when the next bus will come.

The bus stop isn’t deserted despite the cold weather. The area must be busy all the time since the sidewalks are littered with more people than you expect. All the seats at the stop are taken, yet you still shuffle under the shelter in hopes to get away from some of the breeze.

You are shaking, and your teeth are chattering. It’s impossible to force your body to stop since you need to generate heat somehow. You probably look like a pathetic naked chihuahua in winter.

You take out your phone, open up a browser, and search for bus times. Thankfully, there’s one coming in three minutes in the direction you need. The thought of taking the bus is not pleasurable. You hate the idea of your skin touching something so many others have touched. It feels unsanitary.

Accidentally leaning back against the wall while you silently groan has you jumping at the cold material touching your bare skin. Your jolt catches the attention of an older woman who is sitting near you.

“Aren’t you freezing, child?” she asks as she stares at your attire—or lack of. 

“I’ll be fine soon,” you say, not really in the mood for talking.

“Where is your coat? Did you not know the weather was going to be cold?” she continues.

Utterly done with all the people-talk tonight, you hiss, “Focus on yourself. I’ll focus on me.”

She seems startled at your outburst. Her already crossed arms tighten as she turns away from you. Her muttered “bitch” doesn’t go unnoticed, but you don’t say anything about it. There’s no point in arguing with a stranger.

The sound of the bus calls your attention, and you mentally thank the universe for the great timing. After people leave and all the new patrons enter, you finally take a step up the bus’ steps. Before you can climb all the way, you hear your name being called. You look past the bus doors to see Seungcheol running toward you.

Just what you need.

You disregard him and step farther up the steps of the bus.

The bus driver looks expectantly at you, and it dawns on you that you need to provide payment before you can board fully.

“Card?” you wonder. The bus driver nods and gestures to a device to the right.

As you unzip your purse, you feel a hand grip your arm.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, slightly breathless. His hair is disheveled from running, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Home, idiot,” you huff and pull your arm out of his grasp so you can retrieve your card.

“Just come with me. We can talk somewhere else,” he pleads, a hand stopping your movements again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Seungcheol,” you hiss. “Now, let go of me.”

He hesitates but slowly releases your arm. He doesn’t leave, though. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to take the bus. Come on.”

“Go with him or get on! We have places to be,” a passenger exclaims, clearly annoyed with your drama.

You raise your head to the person, narrowing your eyes in a glare that tells them to pipe down. It has no effect on them. They shoot a fierce look back.

“I know you don’t want to take the bus,” Seungcheol comments quietly.

He’s right. Not only do you not want to sit next to a lady whose arms are filled with shopping bags—the only available seat—you really don’t want to add time to your trip home.

Seungcheol reaches out again and carefully takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t fight him as he guides you off the bus. Once you’re both off, the bus doors shut and begin its trip down the road.

You watch it silently, not knowing Seungcheol is discarding his jacket until you feel the warm material cover your shoulders. Your eyes snap back to him as if remembering who you’re with.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff. I told them not to do that tonight,” he says remorsefully.

“Oh, so you’ll let them talk shit about me another day?” you chide and start walking away from him. Thankfully for Seungcheol, it’s in the direction of his car.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he replies as he hurries to catch up, which doesn’t take much effort as you aren’t walking too fast due to your cold, stiff legs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll do that whenever they want to. They wouldn’t be the first,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t make it right regardless,” he says. You halt in your steps, causing Seungcheol to stop and turn to look at you.

“I talk shit about people behind their backs, too. Does that make me a bad person?” you question. Perhaps if he sees you as one he’ll leave you alone.

He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car, okay?”

“You can admit it,” you challenge and walk closer to him. “Does talking shit about someone make me a bad person, Seungcheol?”

He stares down at you, soft gaze turning dark with annoyance.

“To the car, Yn,” he demands slowly just in case you won’t understand; his tone is sharp in a way you haven’t heard before. You don’t let that scare you away. Maybe if you weren’t so fired up, you would have been a little intimidated.

You laugh darkly and roll your eyes at his command. “You want me to sit next? Bark, too?”

“Now, you’re just being dramatic.”

Dramatic, he says.

“Woof?” you reply, dramatically giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches at your response—not pleased with your sarcasm. However, instead of replying in an annoyed tone, he takes a step forward. His head draws closer to your face to ensure your eyes are glued to his.

“Wanna be a good girl and go to the car, Cherry?” he murmurs lowly, an eyebrow quirking up for a second.

His sudden change in tone has you stiffening. You want to bite back—figuratively or literately… you aren’t sure yet—but you can’t even remember what you are mad about in the first place.

“Hm?” he croons when you don't reply quickly.

Rather than a sarcastic reply, you simply grumble, “whatever,” before pushing past him to get to his car.

You stand next to the passenger side like before, waiting for him to unlock it. Seungcheol comes beside you and swiftly unlocks the vehicle. Although you aren’t arguing at the moment, you can sense some irritation lingering from him.

You get the feeling he'll always hold the door open no matter how annoyed he is with you.

You feel suffocated.

The air in the car is too hot. The weight of his jacket has you overheating. The tension is unbearable.

Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the road, not throwing you a single glance as he drives. Every once in a while he will tighten his hold on the steering wheel. One time you even catch the way his muscles flex at the motion—now exposed from not wearing his jacket. You never realized how fit he is. This isn’t the first time you have seen him sleeveless, but you just never stared long enough to notice. Or if you did, you simply didn’t care. Regardless, you notice now, and you have to force your eyes away before he catches you staring.

You want to ask for music so you don’t have to sit in this insufferable silence, but your mouth feels dry. You decide to just deal with the quietness, shifting in the seat so you’re facing the window more. Your eyes drift close as you let the hum of the car distract you. 

Seungcheol’s jacket is snuggled around you, and his woodsy cologne fills your senses. It’s pleasant, and you don’t mind if you smell more of it in the future.

By the time you arrive home, you are on the verge of sleep. You stumble out of the car and shut the door without saying a word to Seungcheol. You expect him to drive off, but the sound of his tires moving never comes. Instead, you hear his car door opening and closing.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you say while you glance behind you. Seungcheol is following you languidly.

“No, I don’t,” he says and pauses at the bottom of your porch steps. He places a foot on the first step while a hand holds onto the rail. You have your keys out, ready to slide them into the keyhole when you speak.

“Then don’t,” you reply sternly.

He chuckles lowly but doesn’t say anything about it.

“You can go now,” you say when he doesn't move.

“You have something of mine.”

Puzzled, you stare at him for a second. Seungcheol gestures to your body, and you quickly remember you’re wearing his jacket. You tug it off and toss it to him. He grabs it from the air with ease. The loss of heat makes you wish he didn’t say anything.

“Goodnight, Cherry,” he murmurs as soon as you click open your door. You step inside before turning to face him.

The nickname you used earlier forms on your tongue, yet you can’t find the courage to say it consciously.

“Night,” you answer, then shut the door before either of you can say anything else.

With your head bowed, you turn the lock slowly while you exhale deeply. His nickname falls from your lips under your breath—unable to keep the desire at bay.

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[mychoombatheroomba]

The Crucible (Part 2)

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 50

The test ends.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

I had someone ask me to be tagged in upcoming chapters, so if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just ley me know!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

In the last year and a half, you’d found yourself caught in many situations you felt ill-prepared for. You’d encountered the reanimated corpses of your comrades, your brothers in arms. You’d survived wounds that should have been the end of you. You’d been recruited into a secretive program to fight man-made monsters. You’d fallen for a man you’d never have met if it weren’t for all the horror you both endured. 

You’d been stabbed, burned, tortured, and you’d survived. You’d found a way through. 

You could navigate this conversation, too. Somehow. 

All you had to do was not make yourself look guilty of treason. 

Easy-fucking-peasy. 

“You’re not to be out of the barracks.” Reed approached you with a superior look in his eye. Fitting, given he technically was your superior. As much as you might hate that fact. 

Luckily, you had more than one man you took your orders from, these days. 

“Krauser asked me to keep setting wire charges for the mornings.” The lie came so easily to you, though maybe that was because the evidence to support it was literally hanging off your shoulder. The duffel bag held all the little components to make the traps your Major had taught you how to set up. 

Just setting charges, like normal. Not breaking into your office. Not reading your reports-

Your thoughts were so loud in your head you worried that they might escape you, somehow. Still, you willed yourself to be stone. Just as the man in front of you was. 

Or, more accurately, just as he normally was.

Reed’s long nose crinkled as he looked down at the bag, then back up to you. “I wasn’t aware of this.” 

“Didn’t know he had to tell you.” It was sharper than was smart, but you felt like you were backed into a corner . . . but then Reed hadn’t made any accusations yet, had he? “Didn’t know you were supposed to be out here, either.” 

Reed shrugged at that. “I can go where I please.” 

“So what brought you out here?” 

His eyes narrowed, and he reached into his pocket. A silver lighter was what he pulled out, one that he flipped open and then closed. Something you wouldn’t expect from the man, when in all the months he’d been here, all the weeks you’d been out late setting up lines with Krauser, you’d never once seen Reed smoke. But before you could voice that- “Bad habits, unfortunately.” He slid the lighter back into his pocket, then, studying you. “Maybe we have that in common.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re very close with the Major . . . aren’t you?” 

What the hell-

“He’s my commanding officer.” 

“And you spend a lot of time with your commanding officer. A lot of time in your off-hours,” Reed observed, and what the actual fuck was happening right now? “He gives you permissions far beyond your rank-”

“He likes things to be handled by competent people, I guess.” 

“Does he now?” Reed raised a brow, his eyes sharpening, and you were so thoroughly thrown off your guard you let the silence stretch a few moments between the two of you. “I can understand some familiarity. He did save your life, after all.” 

“Guess he wouldn’t have had to if that soldier had gone for my throat, right?” you hissed, because those words had been a splinter in you all day. One that you couldn’t get out, that festered. 

“I suppose not.” 

Fuck it. 

He knew something. He had some involvement with bioweapons. He’d known before STRATCOM asked him to help train recruits. And if the reports Krauser had were really all the incidents the government had on file, then there was only so much Reed and Hellman could have been involved with. 

The operation to retrieve the G-Virus . . . or the first communication with Birkin himself.

If you weren’t just pulling theories out of your ass.

Time to find out if you were. 

“Been thinking about that,” you said, your eyes cutting through the dark, aiming for him. “You were right. That soldier should have made sure I was dead.” Reed knew you were setting up something, you could see it in his eyes. The bastard was gracious enough to let you do it - not that you gave him much time to speak and interrupt that line of thought. “And our government should have arrested the man who made a biological weapon of mass destruction, but they didn’t. They made a deal with him. And now we’re all paying the price for some idiot’s actions.” 

You watched the agent’s face carefully. Watched as something raged against the cage of stoicism he’d built around himself. The corner of his mouth curled. “Now how did you learn about that?” he asked, and the two of you might as well have been circling each other with knives. 

And you would have to answer that question very carefully, or he’d be able to bleed you. 

“How did you?” you asked, and Reed actually smiled. 

Krauser’s smile usually meant trouble, at least when it came to training. It meant a challenge. This? That smile felt more like a snake baring its fangs. “Oh, Sergeant, you don’t want to play this game with me.” 

“I’m not playing.” The words were steel. “I want to know why any idiot would think that trying to make a deal with someone like that would be a good idea.” 

“Dealing with Birkin was a necessary compromise,” Reed hissed, taking a step forward, trying to back you towards the mess hall. You couldn’t smell any traces of cigarette smoke on him as he got close. “A force that is willing to do whatever it takes is the one that will remain in power.”

“Sure,” you felt rage rising like bile in your throat. “Just better hope it doesn’t kill our own people in the process, right?” 

“Sacrifices are a part of war,” Reed said, his tone devoid of any empathy. “I thought soldiers were supposed to know that. But then, soldiers are also supposed to follow orders. They’re supposed to not scrape for classified intel. And they’re supposed to not fraternize with their comrades . . . but here we are.” 

A muscle in your face twitched, and Reed smiled wider. Satisfied. 

“You’re done for the night. Get back to your barracks.” 

In the end, the two soldiers he pulled from night patrol to escort you back made it a difficult order to refuse. And so, you lay in your bunk, staring up at the ceiling. Good thing you were used to sleepless nights, because you had too many thoughts to sort out. 

Fraternizing. But Reed hadn’t spoken of Leon. No, he’d spoken of Krauser, and that thought . . . 

You tried not to focus on it too much, because for all his bluster, Reed had slipped. You’d seen the reports in his office. You’d read the matching ones Krauser had given you over and over again. Birkin’s name had been blacked out on each and every one of them, but Reed had just spoken that name to you. 

It left you exhausted as the hours passed by, but-

⧫⧫⧫

The purpose of the test was exhaustion. 

Leon had known that when he first heard the timeline of it. Fifty-four hours in the woods, with limited rations and even more limited sleep. Days full of physical and mental exertion. 

He wanted to sleep, he really did. Even if they were only being given four hours for it. Still, he hadn’t accepted any arguments from the others when he volunteered for a night shift. It was only right, in his mind. He’d been given the responsibility of leading during the test. He’d watch over everyone while they took their well-deserved rest. 

Valeria had insisted on taking the second watch, but for now she slept alongside the others on the forest floor, rifles at their sides. Ready for anything, just as Krauser had trained them to be. 

Leon half expected a tear gas canister to sail into their campsite. 

Or for Krauser to just storm in and start slicing proverbial throats. 

All that to say, Leon was keeping his focus on the space around the squad, listening for any signs of danger. 

And that was likely why he overheard the raised voices in the distance. 

Leon’s brow furrowed - because he’d recognize Krauser’s voice anywhere. He’d know the tone it took when the man was upset, too. 

He should just leave it. He knew that. 

That didn’t stop him from shaking Valeria awake, though, just in case. She grumbled when he whispered that he was going to check something out but took up his watch anyway. So, once the rest of the group had someone watching over them, Leon slunk off into the dark. He’d just proved earlier in the day that he could move quietly, but that didn’t make it any less difficult now. The shadows helped him move unnoticed, though, hiding him from the lights Leon found himself moving towards. 

There was a command tent set up in the woods, big enough to no doubt house Krauser, Hellman, and the other drill sergeants that traded out with them. A lantern dimly shined through the gaps in the canvas, letting Leon see movement inside. 

“He’s a fucking problem, Hellman, and you know it!” Krauser’s voice was not so easily confined as the light was. 

The response was mostly lost, until Leon moved closer. 

“ . . . perhaps drastic-” 

“Two of my men have had bones broken or dislocated under his watch. That’s not drastic, it’s incompetence at best,” Krauser shot back, and Leon’s jaw clenched. Reed. There was no one else they could be talking about. 

“And are you suggesting it was intentional at worst?” 

“He didn’t seem all that broken up about it.” A third voice, one Leon also recognized as Doc’s. 

There was a pause before Hellman spoke again. He sounded as tired as Leon felt. “You told me that he didn’t lay a hand on the injured recruit this time-”

“But we all know that wasn’t the case before.” Krauser reminded the agent, and Leon felt himself be thrown back several weeks. He was struck then with the memory of Hellman looking at him through two sets of prison bars, the sound of fists impacting flesh. The sound of your scream- “He’s losing us men. That’s all there is to it. Training them hard I have no problem with. Crippling them before they can even fight? That’s unacceptable, and I want him gone.” 

“You know I don’t have the authority to make that decision.” 

“Then we find someone who does!” 

“Major,” Hellman said, and Leon couldn’t miss the sympathy in his voice. “Reed is a difficult man, I know that. But he has always put the interests of our nation first. We wouldn’t be aware of Umbrella’s part in what’s happened without him.” Leon balked at that, the implications settling in his gut. “He has his reasons for doing what he’s doing, but . . . I understand what you’re saying. I’ll speak with him when we get back.” 

There was a huff. “You will,” Krauser ordered, leaving no room for debate. 

 A moment later the tent’s flap was thrown open and Krauser stormed out, absent his usual beret and wearing an expression of pure and utter frustration. He reached up, pressing a hand to his forehead, letting out a ragged sigh. Leon watched from the shadows of the forest, sympathy in his chest along with worry. 

He held on to those emotions as Krauser rounded the corner, heading towards the Humvee Leon could barely make out nearby, and the younger man took that as his cue to leave. 

“What was it?” Valeria asked in a hushed voice when he returned, and Leon grimaced in the dark. 

“Someone got hurt back on base. Reed was watching, I guess.” 

A scoff heralded Valeria’s response. “What a dick.”

A dick who’d been the reason the US government knew about Umbrella. And if that was so, Leon could only ask himself one question-

⧫⧫⧫

How did he know?

It plagued you into the morning, keeping you from sleep. That, and the veiled threats Reed had thrown at you in the night. 

Fraternization. Did he know? Or was he jumping to conclusions with the wrong man? You weren’t sure. Whatever the case, he wore a smug look the next morning, one that held disdain for you when you reported for First Call. 

But you weren’t being suspended from duty. So, he hadn’t told anyone his theory. Not yet.

Instead, Reed seemed to be taking his punishment out on the whole unit. He’d doubled the distance you all normally had to go for your morning run, and by the time breakfast rolled around, everyone was more than happy to dig in to the food offered, even if it tasted like shit on the best of days. Everyone but you, because you were rescued from that fate by one of Doc’s assistants. Even if Reed protested, having someone else remind him of your orders helped. 

There wasn’t much to do that morning, though, so you were pretty sure that the assistants just did it because hatred of the agent was spreading through the base like wildfire. 

So, you, them and Grayson hid out in the infirmary, eating the food that Doc had left for you. Pasta this time - a big tub of it that you all divided up and reheated. There wasn’t quite enough for everyone, but one of the two assistants volunteered up her share to Grayson before you even had the opportunity. She went to the mess hall instead, and you were left in the peace of the infirmary. It wasn’t exactly a talkative breakfast, but you were thankful for that. It gave you more time to think. To turn the night’s discoveries over in your head. 

Or, more accurately, the pieces of discoveries. 

You weren’t sure if those pieces fit together to make the actual puzzle become clear, or if your spite was leading you to force things to fit an image in your head. 

All you knew was that Reed was a bastard. That he wanted you gone, one way or another. That he was all but accusing you of sleeping with your commanding officer, if he wasn’t accusing you of fraternization in general. You were sure that he’d encountered BOW’s or at least knowledge of them before, and you were sure that he knew Birkin’s name and role in the talks with the government. 

You just couldn’t be sure of how he knew. 

That didn’t change the feeling in your gut though; the idea eating away at you, even as you went about your day. Birkin would have covered his tracks well. What he was doing might as well have been suicide, if the wrong people discovered his treachery. So, it begged the question - the same question that Alenko had voiced not so long ago:

How did Umbrella find out? Who ratted him out about the deal with the CIA?

Maybe Umbrella discovered it on their own. Or maybe someone tipped them off to Birkin’s actions. And if that were the case . . .

If Reed had been one of the few to be in a position to know, to do something . . .

If, if, if. 

So many ifs. So much depended on your hunch being right. 

All of those ifs and maybes, and one filled you with dread more than any other.

What if you were right? 

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what you would do because how could you present any evidence? You had none, save for inference from stories you shouldn’t have heard, and the reports hidden in your bunk that you shouldn’t even possess. Reports that, you decided, you desperately needed to return to Krauser’s office. You’d held on to them for too long, and Reed would be watching you now. You could feel his gaze on you all day long as he pushed you and the rest hard under the blazing July sun. 

Enough that, after the lunch you mercifully skipped to go to the infirmary, one of your comrades could take no more, it seemed, and doubled over, spewing her meal into the dirt. 

You grimaced but went to help her up when Reed deigned it not important enough to interfere. Unsurprisingly. The recruit brushed you off when you asked if she was alright, but she looked pale. That didn’t change over the rest of the afternoon, but she pushed through, even as the amount of exertion from the day left her and many others looking ill. 

And all the while, Reed’s eyes were fixed on you, some unseen equation in his head. You could see it - the two of you trying to assess each other. To understand one’s enemy. 

“Sergeant,” he ordered as you all reported for melee sparring, “let’s have another demonstration. See if all that time you’ve been spending with the Major is paying off.” 

You brushed off the insinuation as best you could, because even if he had the wrong man, the implication of his words . . . 

Didn’t matter now. Not until he made a formal accusation, you supposed. In the moment, you had opponents to deal with. Ones that were just as exhausted as you were, but opponents nonetheless. It was a familiar scenario that Reed set up for you, one that you’d been through a dozen times; your comrades lined up, stepping in to face you as you defeated the previous attacker. When Krauser had set such a challenge for you, though, you knew it was because he wanted to force you to be better. 

With Reed, you knew he only wanted to see you fail. 

Well, fuck him. 

You knocked your first opponent into the dirt. 

Disarmed the second. 

They didn’t put up much of a fight. Not like they usually did. A fact that concerned you, but still, you pressed on.

On and on, opponents were sent to face you-

⧫⧫⧫

And on and on, Leon fought them back. 

He could remember a time, not so long ago, when he’d watched you fight your way through his squad, one after the other. He remembered thinking that such a feat was impossible for him. That he would never be able to hold a candle to your abilities. 

Now, he was proving himself wrong. 

King of the hill. That was what Krauser had declared these fights would be. Winner gets to stay in the ring - a twenty-foot wide structure made of wood. One person lost the fight and was sent out, the next combatant was sent in. That meant only one winner by the end of it all. One fighter out of ten. Winner would be spared from whatever exercise was coming next, that was the deal.

Leon had been the third person to fight, and now, he was on his seventh opponent. Sweat dripped down his face and back under the oppression of the heat, his body sore and demanding rest. Still, he kept going. He ducked under swings and delivered counter cuts, kept his movements small and his mind sharp. It was enough that as Alejandro made a misstep, Leon was able to take advantage of it, his knife slashing forward as the other man went to switch his weapon from one hand to the other. 

Blunted metal met fabric and pressed against flesh. 

Two left. 

Two opponents. 

There was no BOW spin to this test. Nothing to make it seem like they were fighting a monster. This was a test of one’s skill against a person. The very thing Leon had struggled so hard with, in the beginning. Now, as Valeria stepped into the ring with him, knife in hand, Leon felt none of the anxiety he once experienced. None of the fear. 

Only the desire - even if you weren’t here to see it - to make you proud. 

Valeria put up a good fight. 

Leon would expect nothing less of her, but in the end, he had come to expect her scraping up dirt to throw in his eyes, or going for headshots. 

As she went for one, her knife aimed high, Leon spun low, using the same move that Krauser had knocked him down with just a few nights ago. It would have worked, too, if Valeria hadn’t read the next attack, spelled out in his exhaustion. Or, maybe she’d just intended to use the high attack as a feint. Either way, Leon hoped she’d intended to aim for something other than what she hit as he swung his leg out at hers. The attacks landed at the same time, and Leon was sure that him sweeping her supporting leg out from under her hurt a hell of a lot less than the shin that crashed into his face. 

His vision blurred as pain cracked into his nose and mouth, and then both he and Valeria were on the ground, groaning in pain. Copper flooded his mouth, warmth spilling down his lips and cheeks as he blinked. 

Ah, well, maybe he’d gotten overconfident . . .

But no immediate attack followed. He looked to where Valeria had fallen, seeing her up . . . but not attacking. She looked almost concerned. 

“The hell you doing, Soto?” Krauser asked, and Leon, even with what felt like a broken nose, smiled at her answer. 

“Letting him get a free shot in,” she admitted, giving him an apologetic smile. “Busted his face, seems only fair.”  

It would hurt her performance, Leon knew that, but she was doing it anyway. 

So, Leon pushed himself off the ground and threw himself into the fray again, not giving her the chance to really ready herself. You would have been pleased with that, and Krauser was too. At least in part. 

The fight ended in a few moves, Leon using a few feints of his own. When Valeria backed away from a slash, then rushed back in, Leon met her with a hard kick to the chest. She slammed backwards into the makeshift wall of the arena, and Leon pinned his knife to her throat there. 

“You okay?” were the first words she spoke to him, and Leon just nodded despite the blood dripping down his face. 

“Fine. You?” 

A laugh. “Fine.” 

Krauser stepped into the arena as Leon lowered his knife, the Major’s gaze a blade in and of itself. “Don’t let your enemy get back up, Soto,” he growled, “you know that.” 

“I do, sir,” Valeria nodded, sighing and letting exhaustion weigh her shoulders down. “You know me and my overconfidence,” she groaned, like it was some great enemy of hers. 

Krauser didn’t appreciate the joke. “If you know, then fix it, dipshit. Get out of here.” Valeria didn’t need to be told twice, throwing Leon a wink and rolling her shoulders as she left. “You good to keep going, rookie?” The question turned Leon’s attention to the Major once more, and Leon just huffed, spitting out some of the blood in his mouth. 

“Never been better, sir.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d fought with a bloody nose, and it wasn’t the first time he’d won with one, either. Williams gave him a run for his money, but in the end, she overcommitted to a strike, and gave Leon the time that he needed. He was exhausted by the time it was done, panting as he slashed his practice knife across Williams’ stomach. 

He tried to decline the prize. 

It would be bad for morale if the squad leader sat out while everyone else did a hundred pushups, Leon argued. Even if it would just bring him more exertion. 

Krauser had scoffed at the idea, shaking his head and telling Leon that he could do two-hundred if he was so inclined, but he’d do it after a medic saw him. Made sure he wasn’t concussed. 

So Leon found himself in the care of one of Doc’s assistants. The woman had swapped out with her mentor just before the melee test started. Leon recognized her - he’d seen her more than a few times when he’d come to visit you in the infirmary. 

She had never looked so pale, then. 

He watched her carefully, his brow furrowed in concern as she checked him over and gave him things to stop the bleeding in his nose. Her movements were sluggish, her face drawing into a grimace when she thought he wasn’t looking. “Are you okay?” he finally asked. 

He was given a surprised look and a not entirely-convincing nod. “I’m alright.” 

Leon nodded, but when he returned to the rest of the group, he couldn’t shake the feeling that-

⧫⧫⧫

Something was wrong. 

You’d felt the thought scratching at the door since afternoon. Someone getting sick from exertion wasn’t unheard of. This wasn’t someone, though. 

Not when you had a dozen beds full in the infirmary, and Doc was struggling to make sense of it all. There wasn’t much you could do, honestly. Most of the men and women who’d come in just lay in bed coughing wet air from their lungs or sitting hunched over buckets. 

A dozen of them. 

A dozen people, all coming down with the same sickness at the same time. 

A sickness that left them growing more and more pale as the sun dipped below the sky. And it didn’t continue to be just that dozen. Their fevers worsened, their complaints of aches growing and growing as others joined in, hobbling towards the infirmary-

Something was very, very wrong. 

By Doc’s expression, he knew it too. 

“Come on,” he gestured to his assistant, then to you. “Let’s get them some water.” 

The three of you didn’t make it more than two steps outside the main sick bay before Doc closed the door behind him . . . then locked it. “Go secure the other door,” he ordered his assistant, and you felt something rising up in you. Choking you. Cutting off your air with a familiar grip . . . 

But this wasn’t . . . 

It couldn’t be . . .

“Sergeant.” An order. Give me an order. Something to do. Some way to help. “Get to the comms tower. Tell the Major there’s a situation.” 

A situation. 

A non-committal word. Because a situation could be resolved. De-escalated. 

That was all this was. 

That had to be all this was. 

You and Doc were just being cautious. Quarantine was a safe play. Alerting Krauser was the smart thing to do. 

So, you nodded, trying to ignore the way your own stomach lurched. Praying it was just nerves and not something else. 

“Sergeant?” Grayson asked, poking his head out of the room that had been yours for so many weeks. His arm was in a sling, but otherwise, he looked fine. “Is something wrong?”

“Get back in your room.” The order was given without even a second glance at your fellow cadet. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Doc.” 

If Grayson was frightened by the command, you didn’t see it. You were too busy storming out of the infirmary, heading towards the comms station. A place you’d spent little time in, during your tenure here. It was a long walk there, one that felt longer and longer as your thoughts closed in on you, a hungry pack with gnashing teeth. They nipped at your heels, your head snapping towards the sound of a hacking cough in the distance. 

Get to the comms. 

Tell Krauser. 

Get back and-

You were half-way across the base when it happened, passing through the training yard that you’d spent so many evenings in. There was no music coming from Krauser’s office, given the man wasn’t there, but if there had been, it would have been cut off. Just as surely as the lights were. 

You stopped mid-stride as the streetlights, the buildings, everything, was plunged into near darkness in the gray, fading light of dusk.

And for a moment, your heart stopped with it when, in the dark you heard it:

⧫⧫⧫

Footsteps. 

Leon hadn’t been sure he’d heard it. In all honesty, there was too much other movement from his squad to be sure. They were getting ready to set up camp for the night, Alejandro volunteering to take up watch. The last night of the test - the final stretch. The group, Leon included, was exhausted, more than happy to bunk down for the four hours of rest, eating what little of their MRE’s were left in the stretching shadows of the trees. It had been a moment of rest. A brief reprieve. 

And it ended with those shuffling footsteps. A cautious voice. “Hey, guys, we’ve got-”

And then a scream. 

Leon was on his feet in an instant, his gun raised and ready for whatever test Krauser had planned . . .

But then there was a wet ripping sound. A splattering, a choked cry . . . and in the dim, fading light, Leon saw crimson as a body fell to the forest floor. 

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@greywardensaywhat

[aachria]

I am so unbelievably nervous for this chapter pooks you dont even know it andthe title sure doesn't sound very promising at all

Writing as im reading once again but I noticed how long my chapter commentary has been gwtting so I'll tryyyy to Tone It Down but i make no promises. The length of my commentary is only dictated by how absolutely crazy you decide to make this chapter.

Ace and Sabo giving ed a shovel talk is everything ive wanted since the marriage i beg you to let ace live long enough to get mad at ed for not telling him pretty please 😭🙏

Oooh the gift for Sabo i was gonna send an ask abt it since ive been rereading the fic this weekend but i figured you wouldn't forget it

LUFFY AND SABO INTERACT8ONS 😤🦅😭😤🦅😭😤😭🦅😤😭🦅😭😤😭🦅😭🦅😭🦅🙏🙏🗣🗣🗣‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Im very much unready to read the strawhats be separated i have cried too many times reading this fic and im certain this will be the worst to date

STOP 😭 ed's jst going on abt keeping the crew safe and i can feel the tears coming

HOLD ON if ed is in fact staying with luffy, thing i should've guessed from last chapter, does that m3an they're meeting boa? Omg. I am suddenly so much more excited for the next set of chapters, thing that i did not think was possible.

Once again i ask myself when the fuck ed learned gymnastics 😭

Not the "i definitely did that on purpose" after they slam into a fucking building like sure you did 🤨 and i definitely believe you 🤨

"Its as straight as you can get" made me crack up

I will be so completely honest with you i have no idea what the fuck is going on like a good 40% of fights but thats jst because i have trouble translating the moves into a movie in my head

"Adam Sandler? What are you doing here? And in a bright yellow pinstripe suit sounding stoned out of his damn mind, too." I had not expected to laugh this much in this chapter i was fr bracing myself to cry. 🧍‍♀️. Now that i think abt it you might just be lowering our guard so that it hits harder 🤨

AND ED'S SAVIOR COMPLEX HITS AGAIN WITH BLAMING THEMSELVES ONCE MORE !!!

so. Luffy and Ed separation. I cant bring myself to be sad this shit was written so well 😭 just "wait for me" and "ill always find you" ugh just throw an "unquestionably" in there and id cry there could be one every chapter and id still cry every single time

Im so fucking excited for ed to meet coin hopefully next chapter 🤭

Amazing chapter as always!! Surprisingly didnt cry!! Thank you!! I cannot fucking wait for the Wednesday chapter

I pulled out the Rio Romeo you KNOW it was gonna be a rough one.

Tfw you're tying to give your baby brother's S/O the shovel talk but you're also stuck in the scaffolding at your own execution and your baby brother's S/O is also your friend who you have cried about your self worth and daddy issues to.

That fucking black book plot bunny has been hopping around FAR TOO LONG, so I had to take it out back and shoot it and by that I mean finally deliver it to it's intended recipient.

Mmmmmmm Boa

Look Ed had gymnastics beamed directly into their head by GOD does that make sense?

When I write combat I do it 70% for the vibes 20% for the quips and humor and 10% for the actual fighting. If you have no idea what is happening you and I are on the same page.

Ed got them self worth issues in them where the dog should be 💪💪💪

God I cannot wait for Coin & Ed content. Love those two.

I am so proud of you for not crying. I cried writing it. That baby was cooked with TEARS.

[mamashenanigans]

Okay. I’ve had time to process the spoilers for chapter 407: Paranormal Orphan.

Here are my thoughts:

-WTF?! They are twins?! What is it with Japanese mangaka and having unhinged twin relationships?! I’m looking at you, Nightow.

-AFO was born with his Quirk activated. Stealing nutrients from his mother then desperately feeding off of her corpse. Stole her Quirk too and seems to have some sentimental value in it as he still uses it often to this day.

-Low-key, I think there’s a hint here that the genetic change in babies and pre-pubescent kids started as some sort of STD that evolved considering their mom was a prostitute and “contracted” an illness. That’s just me, though.

-The first person he ever had was Yoichi and he held his hand right after birth. Also: JFC THAT’S A BIG BOY

-AFO is a victim of his Quirk like the other villains(Toga, Touya, Tenko). He was born wanting to possess things. I don’t like the whole “he was born evil” narrative. Yeah, he looks like a crazy ass Omen baby, but it makes sense he’d think the way he does.

-AFO is also an unreliable narrator here as this is all from his POV

-He says something to the effect of (we’ll know more once we get the scanlations) how, even though Yoichi can’t give him anything like he wants from everyone else, he’s still “his”.

-So, did he just get up and start walking and taking care of his brother out of sheer will when he was still a baby or did someone pick them up and raise them to the point when AFO wanted something from them and killed them when he didn’t get it?

-Yoichi still believes there is some good in his brother because he held his hand as a baby. 😭 Poor kid

-Poor wittle Yoichi getting kicked because he threw something at AFO. For how they’ve had to live, it makes sense AFO would react that way…in a manner of speaking.

-Yoichi learning to read from comics he finds in rubble/a dump. AFO takes notice and sits next to him. He then likes the part where the author says “One for All, All for One.” He should have had a name prior that he must have given himself as Yoichi has one. Though it would make sense that AFO named Yoichi himself as “first gift” since he was the first thing he ever had.

-AFO being jealous of the Glowing Baby is pretty spot on. All of this seems to hint that AFO and Yoichi were the first to have powers considering how AFO talks about the Glowing Baby and the 50 kids born in India.

-The last page is quite a cliffhanger and it sucks we have to wait 2 weeks for the next part(there’s no way this isn’t a two parter).

-How AFO is thinking about Yoichi leaving him is intensely possessive and reminds me of how Vader choked Padme when he thought she was betraying/leaving him. This also ties into how AFO didn’t know he had killed Yoichi.

-My guess is that AFO lashed out and sliced off Yoichi’s hand in a possessive rage. He was so startled by his own action that it gave the 3rd user time to grab Kudo and Yoichi then speed out of there.

-Is it just me or does anyone else hope AFO kept Yoichi’s hand? Parallel to Tomura having all of his family’s hands. I sure hope he did because I need even more twisted twin obsession.

-It’s most likely Yoichi lived long enough after this(and maybe with his blood) transferred OFA to Kudo. He then died from his blood loss and that’s why AFO didn’t know he had killed him.

-AFO crying over Yoichi’s death maybe the first and only time he’s ever cried. Yoichi did mean something to him, maybe even more than a “thing”, but he didn’t realize it until that one moment. He blames Kudo for his death because of the mental gymnastics he has to go through to convince himself that there’s no way he would have hurt the only person he’s ever actually loved—possessive as it may be. If Kudo hadn’t have taken him from the vault, he wouldn’t have reacted and cut off Yoichi’s hand, and therefore, Yoichi would still be alive.

-If he takes OFA with Yoichi’s soul in it, then Yoichi will be his again and “I totally didn’t kill him. See! He’s still alive!”

-The internet’s hot-takes that AFO is homophobic because he went full possessive Vader over Yoichi is weird. I said it.

-A part of me wants there to be a cliffhanger where we think Bakugo may have defeated AFO. We then get the intense fight between Tomura and Deku. Deku is about to win, however that’s going to happen, but then AFO shows up around the age he was when he kicked Yoichi, and he’s holding Bakugo as a threat, demanding Deku give him his brother back. But that’s just me. Again.

Anyway, I can admit when I’m wrong about a villain’s backstory. It wouldn’t be the first time and I honestly should have expected something like this considering Horikoshi going full on horror during this Final War arc. However, I don’t think AFO being born with his Quirk activated and “wanting to take” necessarily makes him “born evil.” The twins still had to survive on the streets as orphans, anti-meta people believing AFO is a diseased heathen and never wanting to help either of them. So, he took on exactly what they thought of him. It’s actually quite sad when you stop to think about it.

I’m going to be frothing at the mouth for the next two weeks to see how this backstory ends. Since it started with AFO going nuts and thinking Bakugo is Kudo, I’m assuming we’ll get further context of AFO’s thoughts when he’s crying.

[spicerackofblorbos]

Chapter 7: May

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence, light assault,

☾ Author's note ➼ Hi guys! Are y'all ready for the final chapter?! June is the reason why I pushed through so many months because [redacted]. I know you're just as excited as I am. I hope you enjoy this chapter though! I know it took me a while, but I think I'm quite happy with how it turned out. Happy Birthday, Mama Kuchel! <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~9.8k

You wake up to a pounding on your bedroom door, your eyes popping open at the sudden fright. It takes a moment to reorient yourself as you realize you are in your bedroom and not, in fact, on a date with Levi.

You take note of the early morning sun filtering in through your sheer curtains as you blink away sleep, acutely aware of the memories of your dream already starting to fade. An ounce of annoyance starts seeping its way into your brain from the rude awakening when you hear Hange’s muffled voice come from the other side of your door.

“Gooooood mooorrrrning birthday girl!! I’m coming in!” They shout as they push open your door. You fold your pillow over your ear to muffle Hange’s shouting as they come in. Your wide-eyed sister stops mid-step and frowns down at the sight of you. There’s a small tray in her hands, the contents hidden from where you currently lie.

“What are you still doing in bed?” You release the pillow to free your hand.

‘What do you mean? I’m sleeping.’ It was your turn to frown back.

“Levi is on his way to come get you. You should be getting ready.” They wiggle an eyebrow at you but you’re too shellshocked to even care. You sit straight up like a meerkat, wide eyes aimed right at Hange’s amused smirk.

‘Levi? Why?’

“He’s keeping you busy for me today so I can prepare for your birthday party. So, eat,” they set down the tray that has a simple breakfast staring up at you, “get dressed, and get out. He’ll be here soon.” They poke your nose before turning around and disappearing through the doorway, leaving your door wide open.

Butterflies start flooding your stomach as you process what just transpired. Levi was on his way to you and you’re looking like… this. You’re looking like this. The realization dawns on you, suddenly hyper aware of your messy bed head and ruffled pajamas. Grabbing a piece of toast, you throw yourself out of bed and into your private bathroom to start the shower, simultaneously praying that today would be a good day.

.

Your original plan for this morning consisted of wearing pajamas and taking your time getting ready for whatever your sister planned for you that evening. Instead, you find yourself speeding through your shower ritual then throwing clothes everywhere in a vain attempt to find something to wear for the day as your hair dried.

Even with your hasty speed, it still takes you an hour and a half until you’re satisfied with yourself. You take one more glance over before huffing heavily and pulling open your door then stepping out into the hallway. Your heart skips a beat when you recognize a voice.

“Your tea is too watery. Let me help next time.” You hear something heavy being set down on the table, a mug you guess.

“I can’t have you do that. You’re my guest, Levi.”

“I’m not asking. If I’m drinking tea, it better be good. This isn’t fit for consumption.”

When you pause in the entryway, you see Hange and Levi sitting at the dining room table. They turn their heads in your direction at the same time, Hange with a wide smile and Levi with a furrowed brow. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt tucked into his usual jeans with his black leather jacket draped over his shoulders. He stands up, his chair sliding back as he does.

“Took you long enough.” Levi retorts.

‘Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming until this morning.’

“Hange, you said you’d let her know last week.” Levi slides his attention over to your sister who is suddenly very concerned with the mug in front of her. He sighs then gathers his keys off the table before making his way over to the kitchen sink to place his own mug into it. “Let’s go.”

“Bring her back in one piece, will you?” Hange glances over at you and winks.

“Yeah, yeah. See you in a couple hours, shitty glasses.”

.

The car ride to who knows where stays relatively silent between the two of you. Soft rock plays through his speakers at a low enough volume allowing you to hear the car’s engine as well as the wind blowing outside as Levi zooms through the town.

You couldn’t contain your surprise to see Levi driving - Erwin’s car no less. In the six months that you had known him, you have never once seen him drive. He mentioned his aversion to being behind the wheel early on in those months, saying he’d only drive when he had to. You guess today is one of those days. You hope this, whatever this is, isn’t burdensome for him.

You turn to Levi, making sure he can see your hands then sign, ‘Where’s Erwin, anyways?’

“He got held up doing something.”

‘Is he okay?’

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” The car turns down a main road that you aren’t familiar with. “Are you hungry?” Levi meets your gaze for a second before focusing back on the road. You think back to that singular bite of toast you had a mere couple of hours ago.

‘Yes.’ You give him a sheepish smile.

“Me too. Your sister offered to make me lunch while waiting for your ass, but I was not in the mood to be poisoned today. I know a place.” He mutters and silence blankets the two of you again. You glance out the window as Levi zooms down the street and you realize you’re in a part of town you’ve never been to before. Suddenly you can feel the car slowing down.

Levi pulls into a parking lot connected to a small park that consists of a playground and a few benches. There are a handful of people and kids out enjoying the warm weather today. Some children run around playing a game of tag while their parents, you assume, sit and chat away. A pang of nostalgia shoots through your whole body.

Once Levi shuts the car off, he glances over to you with his lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. You raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, but he just pinches his lips together and unbuckles himself before pulling himself out the door. You do the same, furrowing your brow in confusion. This isn’t the first time he hesitated to tell you what was on his mind, but you sure wish the previous time had been the last time. You push the door open and step out into the fresh air.

Instantly, the smell of freshly mown grass strikes your nose. A smile tugs at your lips as you breathe in deep, savoring the scent. Levi comes up next to you as he tucks the keys away into his pants. A warm breeze blows through his hair, and it makes your heart dance. Levi is so pretty, you think to yourself.

“You okay?” You’re suddenly aware of your staring, and you force yourself to look away.

‘Yes. Just thinking about how nice today is.’ You give him a small smile.

“Yes, it is. Ready to eat?” He turns around and sweeps his arm in the direction of a small building on the edge of the parking lot. It’s blue and the outside looks almost like a farmhouse with a half wrapped wooden porch around it. Above the main entrance is a sign that reads ‘Kirschstein’s’ in black cursive font. If this is a restaurant, then it was as ‘mom and pop’ as it could get. Levi walks off with you right behind.

The moment you step through the front door, a pleasant chime rings through the whole restaurant. A couple customers occupy some small tables already, so it was relatively quiet save for the light music coming from the speakers in the ceiling. The aesthetic gives a very rustic and homey feel, heavily mirroring the outside. It’s quaint and simple and it makes you like it even more.

“SASHA! THE DOOR. PUT THAT FORK DOWN FIRST.” You hear an older woman yell from the back. A second later, a girl with reddish-brown hair pulled into a ponytail jumps through a door and over to the podium in the front. She has a couple of crumbs around her mouth which currently widens into a grin at you.

“Hi! Welcome to Kirschsteins! Just the two of you today?”

“Yes, please. Outside, if possible.” Levi speaks up, jerking his head to the side door. You follow his movement, and you see a cute little unfenced patio facing the park with small tables peppering around it.

“Yes, sir! Follow me.” With a flourish, she grabs two menus and starts over to the patio.

When you both settle in, you can’t help but wonder if this might be a date. He catches your eye only for you to swiftly look down at your menu, pretending to look at your options. He hasn’t said anything outright about it, and you suppose two friends can go out for lunch without it being considered a date, right? Your thoughts are going a million miles a minute that you barely hear Levi calling your name. When you look over the menu, you see Levi staring at you with a raised brow.

“What would you like to drink?” He glances over to the side. Following his gaze, your eyes fall on a tall, slender boy with freckles and kind brown eyes. 

“Hi, I’m Marco! Can I get you something to drink?” He gives you a soft smile. You glance over to Levi and sign ‘water’.

“She says water and I’ll take a cup of hot black tea.” Marco nods and leaves the two of you alone. The sounds of laughing children and birdsong make their way into your ears.

“Where’d you go just now?” Levi asks, leaning back into his chair as he stares at you.

‘I don’t know, just thinking.’ You then look back down to your menu, attempting to find something to eat. You hear him hum in response but say nothing else. This wasn’t a date, it couldn’t be.

After a bit, you hear the patio door open, and you look up to see your waiter holding your water glass as well as a saucer supporting a dainty teacup. He sets them down gently and then pulls out a notepad from his apron.

“If you’re ready, I can take your order now.” he says, eyes shifting back and forth between the two of you. Levi glances over at you, ready for you to tell him your order. You still haven’t given the menu a close enough look, so you take a quick glance before panic-choosing.

‘Triple berry crepe, extra whipped cream.’ Levi nods in understanding then glances down to his own menu. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he chose the first thing his eyes landed on as well.

“She’ll take the triple berry crepe with extra whipped cream, and I’ll have the classic omurice, light ketchup please.” Levi hands Marco the menu and you do the same, smiling at the freckled boy. He nods and tucks his notepad back into his apron before grabbing the menus.

“Sounds great. Please let me know if there’s anything you need while waiting.” He bows and then he’s gone. You meet Levi’s eyes; they’re a light gray today, like storm clouds after a bout of rain.

You both sit in silence for a bit, unsure of what to say. Levi fiddles with his silverware and you pick at you fingernails, a habit you've been unsuccessfully trying to break. Picking up your hands, you start to sign but Levi starts talking at the same time.

"So, ho- Oh, sorry." He crosses a leg over his knee and stares over at you. “Go ahead."

'Go ahead.' You sign at the same time as his words. He smirks at your soft laugh.

"Just say it."

‘Your sign reading is better.’ You grab your water glass and take a tentative sip. The sides of the glass are already perspiring so after setting it down, you wipe your hand on your napkin, taking note that it most likely wasn’t just water that you were drying off.

“I would hope so, otherwise those classes have been a waste.” Levi mutters before taking a careful sip of his own drink, holding his teacup the way he does. There’s that knot in between his eyebrows again.

‘Classes?’ There’s a softness in his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m taking classes. I didn’t want to be the only one not knowing what you were saying.” He rolls his eyes and looks away again. Levi’s cheeks start flushing your favorite shade of pink.

What he said might sound like common sense, but to you it meant so much more. Levi wasn’t one to do things short term, meaning he wouldn’t throw his money away on something that he would deem temporary. By your own reasoning, Levi plans to be in your life for a while. And that makes your chest warm. You don’t know what to say to that. Luckily, you don’t need to think of what to say as Marco comes swinging out the door with your plates.

“Alright, I’ve got one triple berry crepe with extra whipped cream…” he trails off as he sets your plate down in front of you and continues, “and one omurice, light ketchup.” He places Levi’s down then stands up straight with his hands behind his back. “How does everything look?” Levi glances over to you and you give him a thumbs up of approval.

“Everything looks great. Can I get another tea?”

“Absolutely, I’ll be right out with that.” And then he’s gone again.

When you look down to your plate, your stomach starts rumbling even more. You are famished, consequences of your own doing of course. You’re quick to cut into the fresh berries and soft crepe, taking a huge bite. You can’t contain the squeal that comes out because it may have been the best tasting thing you’ve ever had.

You’ve lived in Jinae for almost a year and you can’t believe this is the first time you’ve heard of and been to this place. You hear Levi let out a breathy chuckle, and you glance up at him. He’s watching you in amusement, an actual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Is it good?” You nod back enthusiastically, smiling back at him.

“Good. My mom and I used to frequent this place. Especially for her birthday.” He says softly as he tucks his napkin onto his lap as he speaks. There’s a wistful tone in his voice. You’re again lost for words. You can’t help but think how different this Levi is compared to the one you met so many months ago. And you liked this version of him. No, not version. This is him. And you really… really like him.

As always, a familiar silence befalls you both as you dig in. Levi’s tea comes out at some point but you’re too engrossed in your food to notice. There are a couple moments where he catches your eye and then looks away. You get this feeling like he wants to say something but won’t. You know better than to force it out of him though, so you opt to give him a soft smile in return before his eyes leave yours. Just as you’re about to finish, someone comes bursting out the patio door.

“Hey guys, sorry to startle you but my boyfriend got stuck doing something else so I’m here to drop off your check. No rush of course.” The voice belongs to a kid with ash-brown hair styled in an undercut. He’s in a white button up with an apron tied around him.

He sets a black checkbook down on the table and turns to leave. A singular checkbook. Your eyes meet Levi’s for a quick second and then you’re setting your fork down and reaching into your cross-body purse. You slam your card onto the table. Levi, of course, is faster.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Levi quips as he slides his card into the fold with deft fingers.

‘What are you doing? Put that back!’ You glare at him as you grab your card and push it towards the new waiter who had turned back to see what the commotion was about.

“You put it back! It’s your birthday, dumbass. I’m not about to make you pay for any of this.” Sticking your tongue out, you ignore Levi and flap your card out in front of the waiter.

The waiter looks over to you sympathetically before muttering, “He was faster ma’am. Also, not to be impolite or nosy but it is your birthday.” He grabs the checkbook with Levi’s card and runs back into the building. Your eyes land on Levi and he’s watching you with a smug grin. You cross your arms over your chest and stare back.

‘Were you planning to pay this whole time?’

“What if I was?”

‘Well, I wouldn’t have come.’ Levi rolls his eyes at that.

“Just shut up and let me treat you for your birthday.” You slump back in your chair, defeated but far from dejected. The same thought of ‘is this a date?’ keeps floating through your mind. He paid for it, but that doesn’t make it a date. It was just a kind gesture from one friend to another, that’s all.

‘Thank you, Levi. I appreciate it. But I’m paying for the next meal.’ You stick your tongue out again in feign defiance.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He purses his lips but not a single bit of amusement leaves his eyes.

On the way back to the car, you glance over at the park. There are more kids out now, playing and swinging on the playground. You double take as you notice a snow-cone stand to the side of it with a small line, something that wasn’t there when you first arrived. You stop and turn to Levi, automatically catching his attention as you do.

‘Dessert?’ You point over to the stall with a wide grin.

“Sure. But we’re eating it out here.” He answers faster than you thought he would, so you fumble for a moment as Levi starts off in that direction. He wouldn’t tell you, but the reason why he would agree so quickly is because he would give anything to spend more time with you. He glances behind his shoulder, noticing you haven’t moved yet.

“Are you coming?” He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and turns to you with concern. Your grin becomes wider, and you hop over so that you’re standing right next to him. You won’t understand the extent of it until later, but you would follow Levi to the ends of the earth if it meant being with him.

‘Yes, but I’m paying.’ And then you run off before Levi realizes what you said, his fast paced steps right on your heels a moment later.

.

Levi decides to roll the windows down as he drives off to the next location that he had in mind. You’re staring at Levi from the passenger seat, arm propped up against the door with the wind blowing through your hair. You’re lost in your thoughts as you burn into memory the curves of Levi’s side profile when his voice cuts into the silence.

“Is there something on my face?” He glances over at you with a side eye. Heat rises into your cheeks and you shake your head in response. You look back out of your open window at the trees flying by. Again, you find yourself in an unfamiliar part of town. It almost looks residential with a lot of the homes overgrown with ivy and weather damage that happened over time.

‘Where are we going?’

“Our second to last stop, there’s someone I want you to meet. Then we will head to our last errand before the final destination.” We. Our. It’s not the first time that he’s used those words, but it never fails to make you giddy.

Levi pulls into another small parking lot, but this time attached to a large beige building. Dozens of arched windows line up evenly throughout the whole structure. Big wide sliding doors under a large blue canopy nestles in the middle. The building itself is symmetrical, both sides sprawled out like the wings of a dove.

‘What is this place?’

“Welcome to Riverside Assisted Living.” Levi puts the car into park and looks over at you. There’s a glimmer of worry in his eyes, his eyebrows knitted yet again. He’s waiting for a response. You want to reach over and smooth out his face, but instead you offer him a soft smile.

‘Your mom?’ Never mind the anxiety of meeting someone so important to Levi, the fact that he even wanted you to meet her is enough to make you want to explode. Instead, you swallow all of that down. Whatever his intention, Levi is worried about what you think. You’re already unbuckling your seat belt and making your way out of the car before he even confirms it with a 'yes’. When you don’t hear Levi moving, you glance back at him over your shoulder.

‘Are you coming?’ Levi stares at you for a moment before following suit. Once everything is locked, you and Levi make your way over to the front doors. He stops and looks over at you once more. You offer him that same soft smile from a moment ago. You don’t know if it’s enough to reassure him, but you would keep trying anyway.

“Ah, Mr. Ackerman. Welcome back! Unfortunately, you just missed the cake.” One of the receptionists pipes up from behind his computer. His eyes land on you and a bright, toothy smile replaces his previous kind one. “Oh, you brought your girlfriend!” Levi inhales sharply and chokes a little.

“I’m sorry, uh. Friend. Just-“ Levi clears his throat. “Just friend.” You smile back at the receptionist and nod in agreement, but you’d be lying if his quick response didn’t hurt you a little.

“Oh, my apologies! I shouldn’t assume.” He chuckles a little and glances back and forth between the two of you before back down to his computer for a moment. “It seems Ms. Kuchel is enjoying the warm weather today. She’s having a good day today, as well.” He slides two visitor stickers on top of the counter in your direction, both with the name ‘Ackerman’ written on it.

Levi hands you yours before slapping his own on his chest. You stare down at it for a moment before doing the same. You assume that these are just to let the employees know who you were here to see, but something in you feels thrilled from wearing his last name on you.

“Great, thank you.” At that, Levi heads off down the hall. You sign a quick thank you to the kind receptionist and follow Levi before he disappears from view.

Riverside Assisted Living is designed to be very welcoming and warm. Light yellow paints the hallways you both walk down. Miscellaneous vintage paintings break up the monotony - one portrait of a goose in particular makes you double take. It might be a little outdated, but it is lovely nonetheless. Some part of you feels a sense of familiarity, as if you had been here before - or at least something like it.

Levi continues down another hall that ends with a large glass door. Already, you can spot a few people milling about on plush green grass. When Levi reaches the end of the hall, he pulls the door open and holds it with his body, waiting for you to pass through. When you brush past Levi, the scent of faint cologne and fresh laundry wafts with you. As soon as you’re out the door, your mouth practically drops in awe.

The space is a lot larger than you expected it to be. This courtyard is surrounded by the rest of the building on each side and down a slight hill lies the river that cuts through. It’s separated by a white picket fence, probably to keep patients from accidentally wandering too far. There aren’t very many of them out as you initially thought. The ones you can see appear to be enjoying the sunshine in different ways. Levi calls your name, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"This way." Following his voice, you see him down the hill a bit. Levi points over to a small flower garden sitting by the river. There’s only one person sitting on a bench overlooking it all, their back to you so all you can see is long black hair blowing in the breeze. Your heart squeezes in your chest but you’re not sure if it’s from excitement or… something else.

You catch up with Levi in no time, much to your dismay. As you both walk over to who you assume is his mom, you’re suddenly hyper aware of what you’re wearing. You can’t keep your hands from fidgeting at the fabric of your blouse. Suddenly, Levi’s hand is on your wrist, holding it in place with a gentle grip.

“Stop. She’s going to love you. She already does, even if she won’t remember.” He whispers over to you, his eyes searching into yours earnestly. It takes a few deep breaths, but finally you nod back to him. The corners of his mouth twitch as he lets go of you. He gives you another long look before glancing back over to his mom.  

“Stay here for a moment.” He makes his way over to the bench before stopping short on the unoccupied side.

“Kuchel?” Your eyes linger on Levi’s face, and you notice a subtle shift in his demeanor as he calls out for her. You see the woman in question turn and look over in his direction. You’re only given a glimpse of her side profile, but you’re able to see a semi-blank look on her face like she’s lost in thought. When her eyes focus, she just stares at Levi.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is soft and sweet, and it stirs something deep within you. It’s definitely familiar to you. Her expression goes from glassy to confused.

“Hi, I’m Levi. Can I sit with you?” Levi gestures to the empty side of the bench. Kuchel nods and watches as Levi lowers himself down before continuing on, “How are you today?”

“I’m okay today. The flowers are blooming very nicely.” She’s still looking at him wearily, but there’s a smile on her face now.

“They are. Which one is your favorite?” Levi’s voice has a gentleness to it that you never imagined was possible. There’s a matching smile on his lips now. Again, something you’ve never thought you’d see from him.

“It’s quite hard to choose. They’re all just so lovely.” She chuckles quietly and looks back over at the flowers dancing in the gentle wind.

“They are. I heard today is your birthday, is it okay to give you something?” Her birthday? In the recesses of your mind, a memory triggers. You’re at home and sharing a dessert that Kuchel had bought for the two of you as a gift, Levi and your brother both horsing around in the background. She says something to you and then together, you both blow out the single candle sticking out on top. That’s right, you and his mom share a birthday. It must have been a day that Levi’s dad was out, thankfully. Knowing what you know now, it warms your heart to know she was so kind to you when she didn’t have to be. Sharing not only her special day, but her dessert that she probably spent a good chunk of her paycheck on to afford it.

“Oh is it?” Kuchel looks back over to Levi with suspicion. She shifts on the bench and clasps her hands together on her lap. “Sure.”

Levi pulls out a little box he had tucked into his jeans and places it down in the space between them on the bench. She reaches over and takes it with shaky hands. You can’t see what it is from your angle, but it must have been nice. Kuchel reaches over and touches Levi’s face and gives his cheek a gentle squeeze.

“You are such a sweet boy. Thank you, it’s beautiful.” She lets go of Levi to put it back in the box and closes it.

“Speaking of, I’d like you to meet someone if that’s okay? I don’t want to overwhelm you if you’re not ready, though.” She just nods in response. With that, Levi glances over at you and beckons you over with a small wave. Taking a deep breath, you straighten up and walk over to Levi’s side of the bench. Kuchel’s eyes snap over to you.

“Kuchel, this is my good friend-“ She cuts Levi off with your name and it startles you both. You glance down at Levi nervously, not sure what to do. He looks over to his mom and raises an eyebrow.

“Ma?”

“Oh goodness me. You just remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.” Kuchel chuckles again and then looks over at Levi. There’s a clarity in her expression that wasn’t there before. “Oh is that my little Levi??” The smile on her face is infectious and you would have caught it if you weren’t so shocked.

“Hey Ma, it’s me.” He reaches over and grabs her hands in his. “You’re not wrong, this is her.” Levi looks over to you.

“There’s no way, look how grown she is!” Kuchel suddenly stands up and stares at you with disbelief. You wave at her sheepishly, still not certain of what to do.

“Yes, it’s been quite a while since you’ve last seen her. It’s her birthday today too, do you remember sharing it with her?” Levi asks gently. Kuchel steps over to you until she’s face to face with you. Levi must have gotten his height from her because she stands a couple inches below you. She stares up at your face, inspecting it. Being this close grants you a better look at her features so you study her just the same. Levi is practically a carbon copy of his mom. Everything down to the pouty bottom lip is Levi’s. She whispers your name, familiarity finally coming to her. Before you know it, she’s pulling you into a bear hug.

You’re so startled that it takes you a moment, but you eventually reciprocate it just as tightly. Something in you frays. This felt so warm, so comforting. So motherlike. Only when you pull away sniffling do you realize you’ve started crying. Kuchel reaches up and wipes your tears with a thumb, completely vexed by your actions.

“Why are you crying, darling?”

‘I’m sorry.’ Kuchel watches you sign curiously and then looks over to Levi.

“She’s mute, but she can hear you. She apologizes.” Levi pipes up behind you.

“Oh, honey, look at you! You’ve grown up so much. Happy birthday sweetheart.” She steps back to get a better look at you. “Oh my, you’re not a little girl anymore, are you? Are you taking care of yourself?” She grabs you by the shoulders and stares into your misty eyes as she continues to fuss over you. Her words affect you so much that tears start rolling down your face.

‘Can I hug you again?’ Levi translates for you. Kuchel nods and gives you a big smile before pulling you into another suffocating hug.

.

The rest of the visit felt like a blur. After your initial meeting, you had stepped back to let Levi visit with his mom. The three of you sat by the garden enjoying the breeze and each other’s company. At one point, Levi’s pinky makes its way to yours in the middle of conversation and he squeezes it gently before letting go like nothing happened. It ended with more big hugs and dragged-out goodbyes. You wouldn’t have minded staying a little longer, but Levi reminded you that you both had somewhere to be soon.

You find yourself staring out the window at the trees blurring green. It’s around early evening by this time, and you fight a yawn threatening to make its way out. The ride itself is silent, not even the radio is playing. Levi breaks it with a gentle voice.

“Are you okay?” You turn over to Levi and nod, offering a smile.

‘Yeah, just need a moment.’ He doesn’t respond, which leaves you both in silence again. You fidget with your seatbelt as you stew on what you really wanted to ask.

“It’s okay to ask.” Levi gives you a quick side-eye.

‘Does your mom have dementia?’ You spell it out in case he wouldn’t recognize the word. A moment passes before Levi speaks again.

“Yes. It’s been progressing quickly.”

‘Is this why she was in the hospital back in March?’

“Yeah, but it wasn’t this bad. Back in December is when she started showing symptoms of it. It took some time to get some answers.” Levi slows down for a red light. He fully turns his head to look over at you. There’s an evident darkness not only in his eyes but under them as well. You wonder if he’s gotten any sleep lately.

‘She’s just as lovely as I think I remember. I forgot we share a birthday.’ You think back to that memory from earlier. ’She is quite a wonderful person, isn’t she?’ Levi watches you carefully. He’s not just tired, there’s a level of exhaustion there that you just now notice. It takes everything in you to not fling yourself over to him and hold him. Thank goodness for the seatbelt.

“She really is.” He mumbles softly and looks back to the road. The light turns green, and the car starts rolling again.

‘Can I ask why the assisted living place and not with you?’ Levi grips the steering wheel tightly and purses his lips. You’re afraid you might have pushed too hard, but he just sighs.

“It was her request. She didn’t want to burden me with her illness, even though I told her many times it didn’t matter to me. It’s what she wanted.” Levi mutters.

‘You’re a good son. She really loves you.’ He chuckles at that.

“So she says.”

‘Does it hurt to talk about her? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.’ Levi’s face falls a bit. Your heart breaks for him.

“No, no it’s not that. I just- I don’t talk about her much, so. This is different.”

‘Will you talk about her more then? If you’d like. I’d love to listen.’

And so, he does the entire car ride. Even after he made a quick stop at a bakery on the way, he continued without issue. At some point in his stories, he actually starts smiling. One that makes your heart flutter and soar. You twisted in the passenger seat with your head resting against the top of it, staring at Levi while he talks animatedly about the things he and his mom used to get up to. There’s a lightness in his eyes and you swear he briefly turned into that little boy you vaguely remember so long ago.

.

For once, you’re in a part of town that you recognize. This is Onyankopon’s neighborhood. All of the houses you pass are all cookie-cutter and are only told apart by the unique decorations that litter every lawn. It was clear you were going to his house, which piques your curiosity.

You’ve only been over for his occasional game nights, something he decided to do once he saw how successful Hange’s movie nights went. After a bit, Levi slows down in front of a familiar house, the street filled with multiple cars. Fortunately, the driveway is clear, and Levi ends up pulling up into it. Much to your surprise, your sister is standing out waiting, waving their hands up above their hands like they were flagging a plane.

“Damn shorty, took you long enough! We’ve been waiting forever!” Hange screeches the moment you both slide out of the vehicle. Levi grabs the bakery box from the back seat and rolls his eyes once he meets Hange’s gaze.

“You asked me to distract. So, I did.” He scoffs then heads through a gate connected to the backyard, disappearing from view.

‘What are you doing??’ You ask as Hange bounds over to you with a wide grin.

“Don’t worry about it. Turn around and close your eyes.” You cock an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “Trust me.” It was your turn to roll your eyes, but you do as you’re told. Suddenly, Hange’s warm hands are covering your eyes from behind. “And walk.”

You’re not sure if they did it on purpose but at one point you end up walking face first into the fence. They apologize through a fit of giggles and you attempt to kick at her from behind, missing of course. Eventually, Hange stops you. There are a myriad of noises coming from a lot of different places and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little overwhelmed.

“Don’t open your eyes until I say, okay?” You nod and then feel Hange’s hands pull away. A couple beats and then you hear them shout, “Okay, now!” When you open your eyes, it takes a moment for them to adjust from the abrupt change in brightness. But when they do, you’re again for what feels like the millionth time today, at a loss for words.

Nanaba, Onyankopon, Furlan, Moblit, and Hange all have their arms wide open as they yell ‘SURPRISE!’. Miche and Erwin are off to the side, standing by a grill, and they’re both smiling as well. Levi is nowhere to be found. A hand goes to your mouth as you stare in bewilderment at the rest of the yard.

The entire backyard is strung up with fairy lights and multi-colored streamers. On the back fence, a large white screen is pinned up and in front of that on the grass are multiple bean bags and spread-out blankets. There’s a long table tucked into that corner with a popcorn maker and a ton of other snacks that you couldn’t make out from here. The other corner has a table filled with presents of various sizes and colors. In the center, there’s a large rectangular table all set with dishware, cutlery, and various covered platters. A cookout and movie night it seems like, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

You jump excitedly and run to your friends, hugging each of them tightly. No amount of thank yous could cover the gratitude you felt for each of them.

“Man, it took you so long to get here! Did Levi hold you hostage?” Nanaba jokes. She has a beer in hand and she’s already pink in the face from it. She must be a couple drinks in, you guess. You shake your hand in a ‘maybe’ gesture at her and she just laughs.

“He didn’t wreck my car, did he?” Erwin laughs down at you as you run over. Miche ruffles your hair, and you smack him away with a grin. Both of them also have a beer can in hand, laid back in airy casual clothes. You turn to Erwin and shake your head in response only to raise an eyebrow at his apron. The words ‘Dedicate your heart to grilling’ in large red letters decorate the front.

“What do you think? It looks good, right?” Erwin tugs at it and wiggles his big brows at you then directs his attention back to the grill, flipping something you can’t see from this angle. It smells delicious.

“Did you and Levi have a good time out today?” Miche mutters down to you quietly, taking a swig from his can. Before you can respond, you’re startled by loud voice from behind.

“Ah yes, please do tell!” Your sister yells as they saunter over to your little group. They have a plastic tiara in their hands, sunshine glaring off every corner of it. Before you can protest, she slides it into your hair and slaps your hands down when you attempt to move it. Hange wraps an arm around your shoulders when she’s satisfied then bumps her head against yours gently as she says, “What did you and Levi do today?” Even Erwin’s eyes are on you as you shrink back from the sudden focus on you and Levi.

‘It was good. We got lunch together and then we went to visit his mom.’ Hange translates for Miche. Erwin, however, stares over at you with shock.

“He took you to visit his mom?”

‘Yeah, she’s quite lovely. We share a birthday.’ You get this feeling like Erwin didn’t know that. In their many years of friendship, he’s had to have met Kuchel at least once, right? He only hums in thought and continues on with his job.

“That sounds like a lovely time. I’m glad he took care of you.” Hange winks and pokes your cheek before letting go of you and turns you to face them. “Okay so here are the plans. We’re going to mingle, we’re going to eat, we’re going to open presents, and then we’re watching your favorite movie while we eat snacks and hang out. How does that sound?” You pull her into a tight hug in response and she laughs loudly.

“Sounds like a yes to me. Hey Erwin, how much longer?” Onyankopon joins in on your little huddle. You pull away from Hange and turn around to see where everyone else is. Moblit and Furlan are both messing with the projector and Nanaba is pulling another drink out of the cooler under the snack table. Levi is still nowhere to be found.

‘Excuse me.’ You sign quickly before slipping away towards the sliding glass doors that lead into Onyankpon’s house.

When you step in, it’s noticeably cooler. ‘Pon’s house is very much a bachelor pad, and you had said so the first time you came over. At least he has style, you think. At first, everything is quiet save for the snap of the door as you close it behind you. You stand there for a moment. Suddenly, your ears twitch at something metal being placed down on a counter in the kitchen. There you are.

When you round the corner, you spot Levi sitting at the island top with a mug in hand as he stares out the kitchen window. He seems lost in thought. His dark eyes trail over to you at your movement but says nothing.

‘Can I join you?’ He nods and jerks his head to the seat next to him.

“Bored already?” Levi says as you sit down. His voice is tired.

‘Not necessarily. I just didn’t want to celebrate without everyone there.’ He takes another sip and hunches forward on the counter onto his elbows.

‘Did you want to talk about it, Levi?’ He sets his mug down and puts his face in his propped-up hand, tilting his head so that he’s looking at you dead-on. Levi purses his lips.

“I just miss her.” He whispers over at you. You don’t resist it this time – you reach over and brush away some of the hair that fell into his eyes. He doesn’t jump at your touch anymore, you realize.

‘It must be difficult doing this alone. You don’t have to be.’ There’s a brief moment where you’re both staring at each other before Levi reaches over and lightly grips your wrist in his long fingers, tugging you closer. They’re cold, creating goosebumps that pop up all over your arms – or was it the proximity of Levi? You’re not certain of what might happen next, but you don’t resist. His lips part as if to say something but is interrupted by Furlan yelling from the hallway, the increase in volume signifying his quick approach. Levi has already let go and is focusing hard on his mug.

“Where are you both?! Dinner is ready!” Furlan rounds the corner and stops abruptly as his eyes land on you and Levi. He smirks and leans against the archway. “There you two are.”

“We’re coming, jeez. Calm down.” Levi grumbles next to you as he stands up. He walks over to the sink to rinse his mug out. When you glance back over to Furlan, he winks at you and leaves the way he came. Levi steps past you but you reach out and grab his wrist to keep him from leaving. He looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. You made him stop but you don’t even know what to say or do next.

“There’s no need to make them wait for the birthday girl any longer than they already have.” He mutters down to you. He moves his fingers so that they’re interlaced with yours and pulls you up from your chair with a gentle pull. He stares at you with his cloudy gray eyes before eventually saying, “We can talk more later.” And then he’s leading you through the house and back out the glass door.

.

Dinner was fun, as it always is with your group of friends. Despite the amount of energy you put into refusing, you were made to sit at the head of the table – with your plastic tiara no less. You ended up not really minding as much as you thought you would. This seat granted you the best spot to watch your friends mess around and chat. Levi wound up being put at the other end of the table, so you were able to catch his eye a couple times throughout. At some point, you had gotten so lost in thought about him that Hange had to throw a chip at you to break you out of it.

“Thinking about all the presents we got you?” Hange jokes once you focus on her face.

‘Just thinking about how ridiculous yours is going to be.’ You stick your tongue out at them.

“Oh, you're going to regret that. Clear the plates! IT’S TIME.” Your sister is practically vibrating in excitement. This isn’t different from her usual self, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested.

You were told to stay in your seat as everyone else cleaned off the table and set it up with the presents. Hange comes by and swipes what you suspect is hers and you assume she’s going to bring it to you to open it first, but instead she holds it in her arms.

“Yes, I know, I usually ask to go first. But not this time.” She grins wickedly. Forget interest, you’re now afraid. You reach for another package with caution, eyeballing your sister.

It’s small with simple gold wrapping. ‘Erwin’ is written in neat font on the top of it. You glance up at the gift-giver in question. He has chin in his hands as he stares over at you with hard focus. You hate to ruin the presentation, but you can’t help as your excitement wins out and you tear into it. A small box with a yellow polaroid camera stares back at you. You sit up straight and smile widely at Erwin as you sign a ‘thank you’ to him.

“You’re welcome! You know I got myself one too. They’re quite neat, don’t you think?” He says boisterously. His reaction makes you laugh as you set it aside to open the next one.

It went like this for the next half hour. You are gifted clothes and travel items, all summer themed. You know that it’s probably because Summer is right around the corner, but there’s a part of you that feels like these gifts were all coordinated. There’s a moment where you’re just side-eying Hange as they hold your gift hostage, but they just shrug their shoulders with a smug grin.

Finally, you’re down to the last one, and by process of elimination, you know it’s Levi’s. You catch his eye at the end of the table again. He’s leaning back in his chair as he stares over at you, a hint of amusement in his face. Levi’s gift is in the form of a small, blue envelope. You eye him curiously as you flip it open and pull the contents out. A folded slip of paper is the only thing that comes out of it. At first glance once you open it, you notice it’s a printed email from a place called Jinae Community Aquatic Center. 

This email is to confirm your reserved spot for adult swimming lessons

Your first lesson is scheduled for Saturday, June 3rd at 10:00am.

Location: Pool B

Please bring appropriate swimming gear as well as your filled out forms attached to this email.

We look forward to seeing you then!

-JCAC

You stare over at Levi with bewilderment. Swimming lessons? You knew how to swim, kind of. But this was truly the most random gift out of them all.

‘What is this?’ Hange comes over to you and takes the paper to get a better look at it.

“Yeah, Levi, what is this? I thought we agreed you’d get her some floaties?” Hange whines as she stares over at him.

“Well, with the lessons, we’ll know she can swim for sure. Floaties not needed.” He shrugs and looks away disinterested. 

Why would you need swimming lessons?

‘What is going on?’ You stare back up at your sister, puffing your cheeks out in slight annoyance.

“Okay okay, just open this last one. It’ll make sense then.” She places it in front of you on the table and steps back. You look back up at everyone else and they’re watching in anticipation. As usual, you rip it apart and under the wrapping is a clothing box. Pulling off the lid reveals an envelope on top of sheer stuffing paper. You go for the envelope first, pulling the flap open and revealing the contents.

Inside is another confirmation email, but this time from an international airline. You stand up from your seat quickly as you read the information on it, the chair clattering backwards behind you from the sudden shift in movement. This email confirms flights for four people, all set to take off early on the morning of June 20th. You’ve never heard of this town Liberio before, but you didn’t care. It was in a whole other country, and you were going in a month.

You jump up and down in excitement then tackle Hange with a hug before letting go and signing, ‘Who is all coming?’

“Take a guess, goofball.” She shifts her gaze to Erwin and Levi. “I tried roping in everyone else but apparently, they have ‘better’ things going on.” She stares at Onyankopon with a teasing glare.

“You just had to schedule it the same time I’m going back home to visit.” ‘Pon rolls his eyes.

“Hange didn’t even tell me until like a week ago. Besides, I’m kind of out of vacation days.” Furlan chirps in, rubbing the back on his neck awkwardly.

When you look over at Miche, he just shrugs and says, “Beach towns aren’t really my thing. Saves me some money.”

“Listen, I wanted to!! But,” Nanaba glances over to Miche and for a split second you pick up on a vibe you hadn’t before. You squint your eyes at Miche, but he just avoids your eyes, opting to take a drink of his beer instead. “Prior commitments, sorry.” She looks over at you apologetically.

‘It’s okay. This is perfect! We’re going to have so much fun!’ You fling your arms around Hange again and squeeze tight.

“There’s one more present from me. Pull it out.” That wicked gleam is back in her eyes.

You pull back the paper between pinched fingers like there’s a bomb under it. Something pink catches your eye. You touch it and it’s a soft fabric. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you pull it out all the way and regret it immediately. Dangling from a hanger is a two-piece baby pink bathing suit. A very exposed and suggestive one, at that. Across the way, you see Levi spitting out the drink he had just taken a sip of with his eyes bulging out of his face. Nanaba laughs and wolf whistles.

“Hange, c’mon. Really?” Erwin chastises Hange with a very bright pink face – it almost matches the suit.

“What? I think she’ll look really cute in it.” You place it gingerly back in the box and cover it up. Your face heats up from embarrassment. You cut your eyes over to your sister and make a face at her.

“What?! She will!!” With that, you quickly tuck the box away with your other gifts and grab Hange by the face with both hands to get their attention.

‘Thank you. But if you’re done embarrassing me, can we go watch a movie now?’ Hange laughs and grabs you by the arm before pulling you with her to the beanbags.

.

It takes a while for the late spring sun to start setting, but eventually you find yourself sitting in a cushy bean bag snuggled up with your sister picking at a shared bowl of popcorn. The final decision on the movie landed on you since ‘it’s your special day’. You honestly didn’t care so you clicked on the first thing that passed by – an action thriller. With cars racing and buildings exploding, it would at least be fun for everyone.

Moblit and Furlan’s set up was on par with a drive-in, possibly even better. They had somehow connected a surround sound system with noise-sensitive LED lights creating a very immersive experience. With every explosion, the lights would flash a matching orange mixed with a resounding boom. Unfortunately, even that couldn’t hold your attention as your mind wandered early on into the film.

For one, the news of the beach trip next month really threw you for a loop. Hange had explained the circumstances of how the trip came to be as you all waited for the sun to set enough.

Apparently, Erwin had this trip planned for a while as an anniversary vacation for him and Carly back before November happened. He brought it up to Hange because unfortunately a lot of it was non-refundable and he didn’t want it to go to waste. Erwin had initially offered to gift it to you and your sister as a surprise but Hange being Hange, they had talked Erwin into extending the trip and coming with.

From there, your mind wanders to Levi – as it tends to do with everything. You couldn’t believe that Erwin and Hange had successfully talked him into closing the shop for a week and a half so he could make it too. Even though you had only known Levi for a short time, you knew this was not his thing. The traveling, the summer heat, especially the crowds. And yet, he was willing to come. You have a sneaking suspicion as to why.

You feel a stare burning into the back of your head and when you look back to see who it’s from, you catch Levi watching you from a couple bean bags over. You raise your hand in a small wave and he does the same. There’s that knot in his eyebrows again and you wonder what he might be thinking about. Probably the same thing you are. Levi holds your gaze a little longer before he shifts in his seat and looks away.

There’s something going on between the two of you, you can’t deny that. And you think he knows that too. Part of you wonders why he’s taking so long to say anything but then again, so are you. But you don’t know how much longer you can hold yourself back anymore. If it wasn’t for the self-doubt clawing in your chest, you would go over to him and kiss him right now.

.

Levi doesn’t get home until around one in the morning, not like that bothered him much. He was accustomed to being up at weird hours. Fresh out of the shower, Levi runs a towel through his wet hair as he sits himself down at his desk chair. He settles into the soft cushion and leans back, closing his eyes for a moment.

That’s twice now that Levi almost kissed you.

Though, it would have been much more if he acted on his impulsive thoughts.

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm and groans. These feelings for you were starting to consume every part of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. It was coming to the point where if he doesn’t talk to you about it soon, he might combust. There’s no mistaking how you both just make sense together, as stupid as it sounds to him.

‘It must be difficult doing this alone. You don’t have to be.’

There’s always been a part of him that knows he doesn’t have to do it alone. Even after years of figuratively carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he knew. But getting out of that mindset was not something he thought he had an option to do - until you. He’s never had someone offer to be there for him. Granted, he never lets anyone in like that in the first place. But as startling as it is, he was okay letting those walls down – if it’s for you. You were offering to take the weight of the sky with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

Sitting up, his fingers move fast as he grabs his phone from the desk and clicks on your name. It rings once before the line clicks open. There’s silence of course, but your soft breathing is enough to ensure that you were there. A moment passes and his phone buzzes with a message.

‘Are you okay?’

“I just didn’t want to be alone.” Levi mutters. He hears something scratch on the other side and then another buzz.

‘I’ll be here as long as you need.’

You ended up falling asleep about half an hour later, but Levi didn’t mind. Your deep breathing from the other end calms him so much so that before he knows it, he wakes up in his chair to the early morning light filtering into his bedroom. The line is still on, and you’re still there. 

☾ Previous Chapter: April ☾ Next Chapter: June - Part One

[suwbuns]

E-DATERS! | #1 men hater

SYPNOSIS. moving back to korea from america, y/n is excited to reunite with her old friends and make new ones. what she doesnt expect is to find herself reuniting with her “ex-boyfriend” from 10 years ago who she dated over minecraft. what makes things worse? he happens to be her favorite streamer who she has been pinning after for years.

written chapter + screenshots below! (not proof read)

beomgyu had never felt this fearful in his life.

of course, he had his honorable mentions. such as when he accidentally sent a kid to the nurses office for pushing him off the swingset in the fourth grade, resulting in his mom taking away his computer for two weeks.

there had also been the time when he overslept and ended up missing his csat, fearing he wouldnt be able get into college. not that it mattered anyways considering he dropped out 3 months into his classes.

and most recently, when he had accidentally made fun of a streamer with almost 4 times the following he had, causing a terrible fan war over twitter with the hashtag #CANCELBEOMGYU trending for an entire week.

but yet none of them, could ever compare to the amount of fear that he had felt at this very moment.

because absolutely nothing could be worse than a plummeting ego and pure embarrassment to be the consequences of his actions, in which you managed to figure him out with not even a week that has passed.

as his body turned cold and his hands clammy at your follow up question, beomgyu mustered all the strength that he had in order to press the mute button on his keyboard, before letting out an ear piercing scream.

“how are we going to fix this?!” he cried out, burrowing his face in his hands.

“dont worry, this is fixable!” heeseung nervously laughed. “i can just make up some lame excuse and—“

“why did you mute?” your voice had interrupted, heeseung giving beomgyu an unsure glance before pressing the unmute button.

"sorry, my dog started to bark really loudly," heeseung replied, giving beomgyu the side eye. "miss me?"

beomgyu's mouth pressed into a thin line as he stared blankly at heeseung who held in his laughter at your stuttering protests.

"your solution is flirting with her?" beomgyu mouthed questionably, his lips molding into a grimace.

“just trust me” heeseung mouthed back, returning his attention back to you to attempt to get your mind off of the previous slip up.

however, beomgyu in fact did not trust him nor had any reason to considering it was him who had gotten in this situation. yet, he leaned against the backrest of his chair nervously knowing that there was nothing he could do. his mouth went dry as he sat thinking about every single possible scenario that could come out of this, hardly any of them with a good ending.

“i need to go to the restroom, ill be back!” you said, allowing beomgyu to sigh in relief. “but dont think that i forgot about how you knew about beomgyu.” following your sentence, the mute icon appeared next to your username, causing beomgyu to leap up in his chair to mute his mic as well.

“okay new plan, how about we gaslight her? we can say that she told me but she just forgot?” beomgyu brought up excitedly.

“do you remember what last happened when you gaslighted a girl? you almost got cancelled—“

“okay nevermind!” beomgyu grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. “or how about we just say its a lucky guess? i mean i do have a pretty large following, it wouldnt be that hard to guess that!”

“beomgyu you cant expect her to believe that. your ideas are almost as stupid as the one that we are currently in!” heeseung replied in annoyance, turning his suggestion down almost instantly.

“fine!” beomgyu threw his hands in the air, running his fingers through the strands of his hair in frustration. “why dont we just admit that i am beomgyu, we reveal this whole entire plan, and—“

“you can not be backing out now!”

“well what else can i do?!”

“i dont know, something! youre thought she was easy to get with because shes obsessed with you!”

beomgyu paused for a second, an idea lighting up in his head as he heard the latter of heeseungs sentence. his fingers were working faster than his brain, as it automatically reached for his phone to press on the twitter application to search for your private account.

“you didn't tell me she was that obsessed,” heeseung said, peeking over beomgyus shoulder to take a quick glance at his phone, catching sight of the manifestations of 'marrying beomgyu' on your bio and your header. “you sure this isnt a fan account?”

“no, its definitely her.” beomgyu said, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “new plan. we tell her we stalked her account!”

“can you imagine how humiliated she's going to feel?” heeseung replied, his mouth twisting into a frown. "i want to get out of this situation as much as you do, but the last thing i want to do is make her feel like crap for being a fan."

“oh please, it cant be that deep," beomgyu emphasized. "her being exposed would just leave her with embarrassment for at most, a week. but if I'm exposed? i cant let myself suffer like that!"

“man i really do hope that yeonjun kicks your—“

“im back!” you announced, causing heeseung and beomgyu to jump in their seats at the abrupt noise.

“oh hi!” heeseung beamed after unmuting himself, giving beomgyu one final glance before resuming. “also, i know this might be embarrassing, but I found out about beomgyu through your private twitter.”

“what was that?!” beomgyu whispered-yelled, his eyes wide in judgment. “you could have given her a chance to breathe instead of violating her right when she got back!”

"i was just following what you told me to say!" heeseung replied defensively.

"yeah, but not like that!"

as beomgyu and heeseung continued to argue amongst themselves, what they failed to catch was the sound of you leaving the call, snapping the both of them out of their heated conversation.

the two simultaneously glanced at both monitors, eyeing the leave message from the game, as well as the fact that you were no longer present in the call.

“did she just leave?”

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST. @openingssequence @suburbiataehyung @shinypieceofgarbage @koeuh @captivq @beowmgyu @qluvrv @ikaeryn @whippedforbeomgyu @i8lhee @heyanonymous123 @vanicogh @sulliefimmie @tae-ology @milkycloudtyg @ox1-lovesick @soobsfairy444 @sulliefimmie @jaxavance @peachenle @pokyloky @peachybeom @alpha-mommy69 @fatoompie @ashxxgyu @soobsdior @viagumi @rikismiel @luvsoobs @lovejunz @wccycc @enha-cafe @kaeslily @hiddenboopy @cashew00nut @merendis @reverbtunes @lcvesickgyuzz @dear-dreamie @fragmentationss @chuuinggummy @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @beomsbeanie @shigamiryuk @soobliss @woncheecks @sserafimez @ahnneyong @ghostfacefricker6969 @flrtsbin @beomomb @cathaerin (closed)

A/N. kind of a mid chapter but anyways beomgyu is a red flag smh

AND SORRY IF THERES SM WRITTEN CHAPTERS IM TRYING TO INCORPORATE MORE SOCIAL MEDIA 😭

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Ill Tidings

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,893

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

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Summary: Our group of heroes makes their way to the Thorm mausoleum. Halsin is finally reunited with Thaniel. Part 34 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter to bridge some big events, but still some fun dialogue! I don't know about you, but I think Thaniel would be just a little bit of a shit (affectionate) ;) you'll get to see more of him (and Oliver) in upcoming chapters!!

Halsin awoke to find Tav still curled up against him. He guessed they had only been out for a couple of hours. At some point during their trance, she had moved into his lap and was now wrapped in his arms with her head on his chest. The sight made his heart race. Tentatively, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the top of her head.

He wanted nothing more than to sit there holding her for the rest of the day. But for now, he needed his focus to return to their shared goal of banishing the Absolute cult from these lands and driving the shadows away for good.

He jostled Tav awake. Her eyelids slowly opened, and she stretched in his arms. She smiled up at him as she shook off the last of her trance. It took her a moment to take in her surroundings, but once she did a familiar redness started to creep over her face. She jumped to her feet, tugging at her long, messy braid.

“Oh…uh…good morning…” She started to stammer. “I’m sorry I must have drifted off last night. I didn’t mean to trap you here…” Halsin chuckled in response.

“There is nothing to apologize for, believe me when I say there are worse traps that I have been caught in. But to wake up to such a lovely sight as you…” He held his hand out to her, trying to persuade her to come sit again. “I think I could be convinced to be trapped more often.”

She took his hand and let him lead her down to the ground next to him.

“I meant what I said the other night, Tav,” he started, still holding her hand. “I care for you. My heart and mind have been closed off for so long, I don’t know when I’ll be able to open them again.” He let out a deep breath.

“I care for you too, Halsin. And I understand,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to open your heart to someone who could turn into a mind flayer without a moment’s notice.” Her lower lip was starting to quiver as she looked away from him.

He looked at her, confused. Did she think that was the problem?

“Tav…” He moved one hand to cradle her cheek. “The parasite has nothing to do with this. I…” He looked down at the ground.

“My mind has been walled off completely by this shadow curse since it was unleashed. Nothing has been able to break through that barrier. Not until you.”

She nuzzled her face further into the palm of his hand.

“I’m afraid I just need some more time before we can be anything more than this.” He looked down at the other hand that was now holding hers.

“But it’s as I told you before, you should follow your heart just as I follow mine. I would never dream of asking you to save yourself for me, it is not in my nature.” Halsin kept his eyes fixed on their hands.

“More than anything, I cherish your friendship, your company. And I do not wish to lose that.”

“You won’t,” Tav assured him as she squeezed his hand.

“I…I’m sorry I can’t be more for you right now.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, love. You’re more than enough as you are.”

“But I want to be more I just can’t seem to see past the shadows…past the guilt and the grief.” He let out a frustrated grunt. “I want so badly to be close to you, Tav, but every time I try, I feel something pull me back.”

“I like spending time with you. We can be as close as you like, Halsin. If that means we hold hands or share a hug every now and then, but nothing more, I’m happy to accept.”

“Perhaps more often than every now and then,” he teased back in a hopeful whisper.

She smiled before leaning forward and pulling him into a hug.

“I can be patient, Halsin. I can wait.”

I can wait.

The words brought tears to his eyes as he hugged her back, grateful that his face was hidden in her shoulder. Her soft strokes in his hair caused him to melt further into her embrace.

But why? Why would she want to wait for him?

“You just let me know when you’re ready,” she said as she released him. “You can set the pace, love.”

Gods, why can’t I be ready now?

“I will.”

She paused for a moment and took a shaky breath. “And should you decide it’s not something you want, then you’ll still have me as a friend.”

“Thank you,” he whispered back.

Halsin took one of her hands and gave her knuckles a light kiss.

“I should go and check on Thaniel.” He reluctantly pulled away from her. “He should be awake soon, or so I hope.”

“Of course. I’ll go check the torches around the perimeter.”

“Join us when you’re done?”

“I’ll be there shortly.” She squeezed his hand again as she stood up.

Halsin watched her walk away as he rose from his seat. She turned over her shoulder and caught him staring. Rather than quickly averting their gazes as they had so many times before, they locked eyes for a moment and smiled. A new kind of warmth spread through his chest as she turned away again.

I can wait.

For the first time in so long someone cared about him, not just because they needed something or looked up to him. Because they wanted to be with him, and they wanted to be with him so badly that they would wait for him to be ready.

He just hoped he wouldn’t have to keep her waiting for long.

In his tent, Thaniel still remained in a sound slumber. At least his breathing had calmed, and his face looked much more peaceful than it had last night.

“We did it, Thaniel,” he whispered as the small boy’s soft snores filled his tent. “Oliver will be returned to your side, you’ll be whole again. I have so much to tell you, my friend.”

He sat and talked to Thaniel as he slept, holding one of his small hands. Telling him of their journey so far, of all the nights he tried to speak with him. He apologized for not making it back to Moonrise sooner, for leaving him in the clutches of the Shadowfell for so long. He told him about Tav, how she saved them.

Over one hundred years had passed since he’d seen Thaniel last, and he still had not changed one bit. As he continued to sleep, Halsin closed his eyes and offered another prayer of thanks to Silvanus for helping him to be reunited with his oldest friend.

A small groan took his attention away from his prayers. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Thaniel’s fluttering open as well. Tears started pouring down his face as soon as he saw those eyes filled with the very essence of nature itself.

His irises started as a deep brown, as rich as the soil beneath them before shifting to green, the color of the forest canopy. Small, golden tendrils cut their way through as the sun pierced the leaves of the trees before fading to a soft blue, mirroring that of the sky.

“Thaniel?” he asked quietly.

“Halsin Silverbough…you returned. I felt it when you crossed into this land.”

He let out a loud, relieved laugh as Thaniel sat up next to him, it took a great effort from him to do so.

“Easy, my friend.” Halsin helped him up.

“I told the man who was trapped with me to find you. He was a good friend to me while we were prisoners in the Shadowfell.”

“He found us. He led me to you.” Halsin sniffled and wiped his face on the back of his arm. “Thaniel, I…I’m so sorry. I wanted to find you that day. I wanted to bring you with us, away from these wretched shadows.”

“If you would have stayed, you would have been consumed. I am glad you made it to safety. And I knew you would return.” He reached up to rest a hand on Halsin’s cheek. “You opened your heart, and nature listened.”

“Just as you taught me.”

Sobs took over his body at feeling Thaniel’s touch. He reached out and pulled his friend close. Knowing that he never lost faith in him soothed away the guilt that had clawed at his insides for decades.

“I sensed someone else return with you as well.”

“Yes, Tav. She’s the one I told you about while you slept.” He smiled at the sound of her name on his lips. “She was here all those years ago as well.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Of course! She should be making her way over here soon.”

Thaniel’s tired smile drew forth another laugh from him. The tremendous joy of seeing him alive and well again gave Halsin all the confirmation he needed that he had made the right decision to come back.

The grove and the druids who resided there would recover in his absence, but Thaniel could not have been saved without him. This land could not have been saved had he stayed at the Emerald Grove.

As he sat and talked with Thaniel for a while longer, the young boy suddenly perked up, staring past Halsin’s shoulder.

“Hey…” Tav was approaching his tent with a surprised look on her face. “You’re awake.”

“Is this her?” Thaniel turned to him to ask.

“Yes, this is Tav. Tav, this is Thaniel,” he could barely choke the words out he was so excited to introduce them.

Halsin beamed as she knelt down to take Thaniel’s outstretched hand.

“The druid Halsin spoke to me while I slept. He told me how you fought shadows and risked your life to save us. You have my thanks.” Thaniel’s voice was soft and hoarse, still weak from his time in the Shadowfell.

“Happy to help.” Tav smiled as she patted his hand.

“But there is one final task to be done. One final anchor that holds the curse to these lands. For my land to heal, Ketheric Thorm must die.”

“I understand,” she whispered back to him.

“I remember your face.” Thaniel’s other hand reached up to touch Tav’s cheek. “I saw it here the day I was whisked away to the Shadowfell. You were running.”

She nodded back at him.

“Thank you for coming back.”                                    

Tav smiled as Thaniel’s hands dropped back to his side.

“Get some rest, Thaniel. We’ll take it from here.” Tav brushed a few hairs from his forehead.

Halsin stood watching them, an overwhelming feeling of relief spreading throughout him. Seeing his two dear friends meet was more than he could have ever hoped to experience over the past century.

“You were right, Halsin,” Thaniel smiled up at him, “she is beautiful.”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately blushed at Thaniel’s words, even more so when he saw the way Tav bit down on her lips to keep from smirking.

“You’re too sweet, Thaniel.” Tav tapped his nose before standing back up.

“Yes, so sweet.” Halsin scolded him playfully through gritted teeth. Thaniel just grinned back at him with a smug twinkle in his eyes. Despite the teasing, he couldn’t help but feel thankful that Thaniel’s mischievous side had made it out of the Shadowfell unscathed.

Tav took his hand and ushered him back toward the fire. He turned to wave at Thaniel over his shoulder.

Everyone else was just waking for the day, taking sleepy strides toward the fire for their morning meal.

“Morning, soldier. What’s on the agenda today?” Karlach hopped up from her seat to greet them.

Tav looked back to his tent at Thaniel who had now been joined by Oliver. The two fey boys sat together playing a clapping game with their hands. The slow, owlish turn of her head as she faced them again revealed a darkened expression.

“We’re going to kill Ketheric Thorm.”

***

Tav had prepped her gear for the day, checking the tension in her bow, the clasps of her armor, her stock of potions. She went over everything twice, dragging her feet to keep her from her responsibilities this morning.

But Halsin was waiting for her when she emerged from her tent.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and solemn.

“I need to talk to Arabella before we do anything else,” she sighed.

“I’ll join you.”

Arabella was in her usual spot near Withers. Despite being in their camp for days, she still hadn’t exhausted her repertoire of questions. The sight threatened to break her resolve, she found herself not wanting to crush that curiosity today. How unlucky for her though that Halsin was there to make sure she saw it through.

“Hey, you,” Arabella greeted them in a cheery voice. “I don’t s’pose you found anything out about mum and pops, did you?”

Tav knelt down to her level. Dread maintained its clawed grip in her chest.

“Arabella,” she sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, “there’s no easy way to say this, love. We found your parents, but they were already dead.”

“What?” Arabella’s smile faded away.

“I’m sorry, little one,” Halsin said from behind Tav.

“I…I don’t believe you.” She took a step back, causing her tail to curl loosely around her leg and Tav’s hand to drop.

Tav tried to reach out for her, but she stepped away again.

“No!” she sobbed. “Get away from me, go!”

“Arabella, I’m so–”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Arabella cut her off to scream before running away to the other side of the camp.

Tav’s shoulders slumped forward as she ran away. She wanted to chase after her, to tell her that everything would be okay in the end.  Arabella had already endured so much, Tav hated to be the one to deliver even more ill tidings. She leaned onto Halsin’s arm as soon as he knelt next to her.

“So much death in these few days. Tev, Arabella’s parents, so many refugees and Harpers…” Tav was still preoccupied watching Arabella from across camp. She had curled into a ball, still sobbing into her knees pulled tight against her chest. Any attempt to go comfort her had been unsuccessful, but Karlach had at least managed to leave a small bowl of food next to her.

Eventually, Scratch made his way over to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his fur, snuggling up against him in the dirt.

“It has been a difficult start to our time here, yes,” Halsin agreed, “but remember there has also been life flourishing even among the darkness.”

“I suppose.”

“Everyone at Last Light is alive because of you, my friend. You were able to save many of them from a terrible fate at Moonrise, you’ve given Arabella a safe place to stay, and you helped me bring Thaniel back.”

Tav wiped away the tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I do not know how many times I’ll have to say this, but it bears repeating until the sentiment sticks.” Halsin took both of her hands in his. “You are far too hard on yourself, Tav. Despite the incredible feats you’ve accomplished in such a short time you still don’t think you’ve done enough. I know there is still a long fight ahead of us, but do not downplay what you have achieved thus far.”

“You…you said ‘us’ just now,” she whispered.

“Of course,” he smiled back at her, “this is our fight, Tav. I promised you my aid, and you shall have it.”

“Then I guess we should get moving,” she sighed.

Halsin helped her to her feet, keeping a gentle hold on one of her hands as they walked out of camp.

The party started their day at Last Light Inn, checking in with the forces there for any potential updates.

Tav and Halsin informed Jaheira of their success with Thaniel as well as their intention to go to the mausoleum next. She let them know that the forces at Moonrise had been strangely quiet. They were no longer venturing out into the shadows, instead gathering their numbers at the towers.

Karlach and Wyll took on the unfortunate task of letting the other tieflings know of Komira and Locke’s fates. Arabella was still unwilling to talk with her this morning before they left, but she also didn’t seem willing to leave their camp.

Everyone else milled around the inn, trading and conversing with the others sheltering there. The Harpers and tieflings were generous enough to provide them with additional supplies for the upcoming fights. Special arrows, potions, and scrolls to get them through the next few days.

“Ah, there you are, I was wondering when you might make your way back here.” Tav heard a familiar voice call out to her.

She turned around to see Barcus Wroot standing behind her, a small package held in front of him.

“As promised, a small token of my appreciation for your efforts.” He held it out to Tav, who took it graciously.

“That’s kind of you Barcus, thank you. Something tells me we’ll need all the help we can get.”

She opened the small box to see a…bomb? There was also a small pile of gold.

“I call it the Brilliant Retort! A rather powerful explosive that would be sure to change the tide in any battle.”

She smiled back at him, but his face was distant.

“Is everything alright, Barcus? I thought you’d be happier now that Wulbren is back.”

“Ah, yes, well…” Barcus cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Wulbren isn’t much for speaking at this moment. Perhaps once we reach Baldur’s Gate, he’ll feel more inclined.”

“He won’t even speak with you? After you’ve travelled halfway across the godsdamned continent to find him? After you were enslaved in the Underdark on the way?!” Tav heard her voice rising.

She glanced around the inn, trying to catch a glimpse of him so she could give him a piece of her mind.

“Oh, it’s just Wulbren being well…Wulbren. He has been through a lot, after all. I’m sure everything will work itself out in the end.”

Unsuccessful in her search, Tav pursed her lips. “You know where to find me if it doesn’t.”

“That I do,” Barcus nodded, “I’m sure you’ll have the path forward cleared soon enough. I’ll wait here with the others for your next bout of heroics to come to an end.”

“Thank you, Barcus, for this.” Tav held up the small package before stashing it away as the rest of their adventuring party joined them. “We’ll talk soon.”

He turned to slink away, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging across the floor.

“Alright, soldier, ready to get this show on the road?” Karlach bopped up next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“As I’ll ever be.”

***

Halsin shuddered as they made their way past the House of Healing. In this area of town, the shadows were especially dark and hungry. Despite the pixie blessing keeping them at bay, he could feel how they longed to seep into his very soul, to drag him down into the abyss with them.

Bones and armor littered the ground around them. Graves half-dug and empty lined every small plot of land. The bodies meant to fill them were likely among the scattered piles of bones, abandoned once that terrible darkness sprung forth from the tomb nearby.

The pathway leading up to the crypt was still familiar, even among the shadows. His last march here all those years ago came to the front of his mind. Members of Harpers and the Emerald Enclave working together to lay Ketheric Thorm to rest, to forever remove his blight from the world.

Halsin approached the opening to the mausoleum, his feet feeling heavier with each step. All along the outside were remnants of runes and glyphs, all meant to keep Thorm sealed away.

The door to the mausoleum had been obliterated when the curse was unleashed. The iron gates magically locked, bound by powerful rituals and spells to keep the entire resting place of the Thorm family isolated from the world. Seeing their state now, Halsin realized just how futile their attempt had been. The rungs of the gates were warped and twisted, poking out in every direction leaving a gaping hole in the entryway.

He ran his fingers along the rocky cliffside. They caught on the grooves that had been carved by him and his mentor. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the approving pat on the shoulder he had given Halsin when he finished etching his piece of the sigil.

Tav stood nearby, studying a few Harper runes.

“Hard to believe these are still here,” she mused. “Especially with what little good they did.”

“I remember carving them, feeling satisfied. We were already mourning of course, so many lives had been lost before making our way here.” Halsin paused to take a deep breath. “But there was at least a happiness of knowing we had succeeded. That the remaining Dark Justiciars were being fought back as we sealed Ketheric Thorm away for good.”

“Yes, that’s unfortunately where my squad was fighting. I suppose the lucky part was that we were further from the strongest of the shadows.” She shuddered at the memory.

“Master Alwin fell quickly,” he said softly. “I had to…”

Halsin saw the understanding look in Tav’s eyes even through his tear-blurred vision.

“I had to cut down his corpse.”

He sighed as he felt Tav’s fingers intertwine with his own.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered back. “I don’t wish that on anyone.”

“This small area looks like a battlefield in its own right,” Wyll remarked as he studied the piles of bones and rusted armor around them.

“It was of sorts.” Halsin turned to face him, drying his eyes in the process. “The curse sprang forth from the mausoleum, decimating everything in its path. Those of us that survived the initial wave did so out of sheer luck.”

Gale whistled as he inspected the mangled iron gate. “If the state of that entryway is any indicator–”

A sudden smell of sulfur in the air caused them all to freeze.

“Our hero thought but of treasure ahead, did not consider the peace of the dead…”

The sound of weapons unsheathing echoed in the air at the unexpected intrusion. They whipped around to see Raphael standing behind them.

“Through the dark she went creeping, and awoke what was sleeping.”

“A warning? Oh, Raphael, don’t tell me you’re worried about us,” Tav shot back with a sweet smile.

“Merely protecting my assets, my dear,” he assured her with a shallow bow. “I will admit I’ve grown quite fond of you, in my own way. I thought it would be only fair to warn you about the dangers ahead.”

“Oh? And what would be the cost of this warning? Or are you just feeling particularly altruistic today?”

“No cost, just a simple proposition between friends. You help me…” Raphael turned his attention to Astarion.

“I help you.”

[hayffiebird]

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author's note: Happy Hayffieweek! I won't technically participate but at least you get a ToS chapter. :) A big thank you and a big hug to you sweethearts reading and responding to this story.

You're the best and I'm so grateful! If you were here I'd follow in the prep team's footsteps and invite you over for tea and a batch of Peeta's yummiest cookies. ;)

Chapter 49, In vino veritas

*ring ring*

Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day! *peep**ring ring*

Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day! *peep* *ring ring*

Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but …

*click*

Hello? … um, helloo?

Hi Octavia …

Oh, there you are! I was getting really worried about you! Been calling for almost five minutes.

Sorry. It’s … I was in the bathroom.

Of course you were. Silly young me! I’m getting ready here too. You all set? Such a thrilling day! Aren’t you so excited? Oh, the twins will LOVE the Summer Breeze! We can’t bring them on any of the roller coasters of course. Flavius always puke anyway. But there are still plenty of “baby-friendly” rides to go around. The Love Tunnel. Lucretius’s Magic Carpet. The teacups. Hey, maybe it’ll even help with your little problem? And we couldn’t have asked for better weather, right? Everything’s perfect! Octavia, listen …

But before anything else, I need your advice on something. I’m sitting by my vanity – as we speak – and I cannot for the life of me decide which earrings to wear! On the one hand, I’ve got these spectacular neotropical scarlet macaws. You know, the famous red, blue and yellow parrot? Gorgeous. Obviously! But then I also own a pair of silver sea turtles with amethysts and well … you see my conundrum. What do you think? Which one of these will make me the prettiest girl at the fair?

I … I wouldn’t know …

Oh, don’t sell yourself short! Next to me and Flavius and Venia, you’re by far the number one expert on beauty! Come on, Effie, this is important to me! I can’t show up looking ghastly.

Course not … you …

I’m leaning toward the birds, naturally. You know, because colors are so colorful and fun. But then again, if I save the turtles for the Aquarium, won’t it be a cliché? Maybe I should go with the amethysts after all. But if I do, what if people think … Octavia, look … I … I know how excited you are about today but … I don’t think I can make it.

Wait, what?

I don’t feel very well and the twins … they aren’t even dressed to go out yet.

Are you ill? *gasps* It’s not contagious, is it? Because I cannot under any circumstances be sick this week.

No, no. Don’t worry. It’s just a migraine.

Have you had enough to drink today? Maybe you’re dehydrated? Don’t worry. Flavius and Venia and I will take the twins for a walk and you can treat yourself with a nice, long nap. It’ll invigorate you in no time.

Thank you, but I feel I must take this day for myself. Raincheck? Doesn’t mean you three can’t have fun.

But it wouldn’t be the same without you! Or the children! *tsks* Effiie! We had it all planned out!

I’m sorry.

Flavius will be so disappointed! He wanted to spin the chocolate wheel. *gives a heavy sigh* I guess, we’ll just have to try and find something else to do, somehow. But it won’t be as fun. Take care of yourself, sweetie.

You too. Give my love to the others.

Mm. As soon as I’ve figured out how to break it to them. What a day. No cotton candy. No stuffies for the twins. Nothing. *sighs again* Bye, Effie dear. Get well soon.

Bye.

*toot toot*

xXx

“… and they lived happily ever after.”

Effie whispered the words, lying on her side next to them on the bed.

Sandy hair fell over Ian’s forehead when he rolled in toward her, seeking his mother’s closeness and warmth. Effie dropped a butterfly kiss to his skin.

The girl gave a soft whine. Crinkled her face up from whatever dream she was having. Her chest rose and fell in puffy little breaths as she opened and closed her fists.

“It’s OK, precious”, Effie whispered. Ever so gently she caressed a light fingertip between Amy’s closed eyes and down her nose.

A trick that Sae once taught her. It never failed to help settle the girl down. That and papa Haymitch’s strong, safe embrace. “It’s OK to sleep. I’m here. Mama’s here. Everything will be alright.”

Her own eyelids felt dipped in lead. What she wouldn’t do to just crawl under these covers and sleep the day away. Today and the rest of the week, for that matter.

She knew she shouldn’t have lied to Octavia. About the migraine. But what else could she say?

Certainly not the truth. “I’m sorry Octavia but Haymitch is slowly destroying his brain with alcohol as we speak and if you drag me into an amusement park for three hours I’ll end up on the news, having a nervous breakdown right in front of all those poor chocolate-sticky children. My own included.”

No. It was better this way. Better for all involved.

She nuzzled Ian’s skin. Caressed Amy’s hand between her thumb and forefinger.

“What are they doing now, you think?” she whispered to her children’s sleeping faces. “Uncle Flavius and aunt Octavia and aunt Venia. Enjoying a ride on the Ferris Wheel perhaps?”

She saw it as clearly as she did Amy and Ian.

The three of them, snuggled together in a passenger car. Heading for the place of birds. Giggles. Chatter. Bowls of buttered popcorn, warm to the touch. And down below: a spectacular view of the city. The river. The distant Capitol mountains.

Because of course they never cancelled. She didn’t believe it for a second. They’d been looking forward to this all week long. Especially Flavius. And the tickets were already bought and paid for.

Maybe Haymitch is right, she thought unhappily. Maybe they will grow tired and move on.

The possibility stung, but who could blame them? She hadn’t exactly been fun company lately.

R-i-i-ng!

The bell only just managed to break through her haze.

Not the phone. The front door. Far, far away – in a different life it seemed. Effie closed her eyes. Curled into the twins. Like a baby still in the womb. Nose in Ian’s soft, angel hair. Hand around Amy’s.

Her mother all but cleared her throat, telling her to go get the door, but Effie shrugged her off.

Just this once, she wasn’t going to care. Whoever it was, whatever they wanted – it could wait. Ill-mannered? So be it.

R-i-i-ng!

Her brows came together, eyes still promptly shut.

It’s not the prep team, she thought, despite herself. Way too discreet.

Their rings were always forceful. Insistent. Headache or no.

Couldn’t be Haymitch either. Doorbells equaled decorations in his book. He walked straight in.

That day when he showed up at her doorstep, out of the blue, hours before they made love in a bed for the first time, he’d pressed the bell. But that was a rare thing.

A sort of honeymoon treatment he definitely gave up on after she’d slept with him long enough to have his babies.

Maybe it’s Mrs Pluckrose.

Effie swallowed a sigh.

Yes, her delightful neighbor. Going on and on about how someone didn’t bother to mow their lawn this week and “we uphold a certain standard around here, Ms Trinket, in case you forgot”.

R-i-i-ng!

Oh, go away. Eyes squeezed shut, Effie pressed her lips together, willing her to leave. Just let me sleep.

Maybe the person – whoever it was – heard her thoughts, for a fourth ring never followed.

Effie caressed her daughter’s hair, breathing a sigh of relief. Silence resumed. She had almost gathered her thoughts when,

Tap-tap!

Startled, her eyes flew to the window.

She’d pulled the curtains shut earlier but behind them – a shadow was moving. Face shrouded in darkness, silhouetted by the brilliant sun.

Heart pounding, Effie sat up in bed.

“Who is it?”

And on the other side of the glass, a woman replied,

“Don’t be alarmed, ma’am. I’ve just got a delivery for you.”

Effie inched the curtain aside. Then some more.

Face tilted, the lady smiled as they came eye to eye.

“Thought someone was home”, she said. “What with the stroller out front.”

Effie blinked at the beaming lady, standing there in her flower bed.

Stout. Burly. Dressed in a lavender uniform and carrying what looked like some kind of gift basket wrapped up in cellophane and tied with ribbons.

She looked about Venia’s age. Dark skin. Silver mascara. Purple hair gathered in a ponytail.

A name was stitched on the side of her chest. Effie squinted at the letters. “Briar Rose”.

Briar Rose! Same as Snow’s youngest daughter.

“Oh, don’t hold it against me”, the lady said lightly when she saw her look. “We don’t all get to choose our own names. Besides”, she added, “the story it derives from goes back way beyond the Snow’s dynasty.”

Effie hesitated, then reached for the hooks on the window. Opened it ever so carefully.

“I just put my babies down”, she said, under her breath.

The woman called Briar Rose, nodded.

“I’ll make it brief then.”

“I didn’t order anything though.”

“Well, it says right here, ‘Effie Trinket’, and there’s only one Effie Trinket in the city, right?” The woman sounded almost amused.

“Yes?”

“Then I’ve come to the right place.”

Briar Rose settled the gift basket against the windowsill.

Effie’s eyes were instantly drawn to the sealed envelope attached to it.

A match of hope struck inside her.

“From District 12?”

“I’m afraid not.” The cellophane rustled quietly under the woman’s hands. Purple nails that matched her hair, Effie noticed. “Sorry I startled you before”, Briar Rose went on. “I know this is most irregular, but they said you were feeling a little under the weather. That I had to make sure you got it.”

“They?”

The woman smiled.

“You must have some generous friends indeed. Sign here, please.”

Alone again, Effie settled on the bed. Basket on her lap.

Aphrodite’s Beauty Spa. The famous logo was printed along the ribbon. The envelope had one word written on it. Effie. In beautiful calligraphy letters.

She swallowed and swallowed.

Not a gift basket.

A wellness basket.

Eyes burning, stinging, like standing too close by a smoky fire, she carefully turned it from side to side. Peered at the items through the cellophane.

Packets of dried herbs and flower petals. Bottles of essential lavender oil. Scented candles. Coconut oil. Body cream infused with vanilla. Aromatic soaps shaped like water lilies, so small they fit on your palm.

Bath bubbles and bath salt. Lip smackers. Face masks, bath sponges in three different colors and, shoulder to shoulder with a set of fluffy baby-soft hand towels: a neat package of wrapped up boiled lemon sweets.

With trembling hands, Effie opened the envelope. Got out the card, printed with a field of gorgeous sunflowers.

Her eyes travelled from left to right and as she read, her face crinkled up, shoulders beginning to shake with silent sobs.

She tried to be quiet. Didn’t want to wake the children. But despite her great efforts, she couldn’t quite keep the small, strangled sounds from escaping her throat.

More and more tears just rolled down her cheeks, dropped from her chin and into the wellness basket.

All that built-up heartache for months and months, if not years just … poured through her eyes.

Dear Effie

We’re so sorry you’re feeling unwell. Staying in bed when you don’t want to, is just the worst (especially when you can’t also have sex with a hottie). You know Flavius would offer but he’s just not that into redheads. At least not this season. And sometimes rest, real rest, is all you need to really bounce back again. And you will, darling.

Now try and sleep as much as you can and, when you’re ready, go pour yourself a nice, warm bath. Add some oil, some petals, light a candle and just relax and unwind in the bubbly water.

Once you’re back on your feet, you have our numbers. We’ll bring dinner and iced tea and then we can play a game of Scrabble together. Won’t that be fun? If we can keep the twins from eating up the pieces, that is.

Take care of yourself, dear!

Love

Octavia, Flavius and Venia

PS: Don’t worry about the tickets. Flavius knows someone who works at the Breeze. We got a full refund. The fair will always be there and who knows? Maybe next time, Haymitch might want to join!

xXx

*ring ring*

… Mm?

Eff? Did I wake ya?

Mm.

Oh, shit. Fuck. Didn’t realize how late it was. ’m sorry. Go back to sleep. I’ll call y’up some other time.

You’re here now. What do you want?

Just tell ya … well, how sorry I um ... for bein’ sucha a dick afore.

You really were. Even by your standard.

Yeah … *slurs* those three odd birdies really bring out the worst in me. Go figguh.

*sighs* Haymitch, if all you’re going to do is joke around, might as well hang up now. I’m not in the mood.

No, no. I won’t. Come on, Effs. Don’t be so snippy. You know me. You know how I really feel about things. *hick* Didn’t even mean what I said ‘bout the prep.

Good.

Well … ma’be some of it, but like … not the stuff that were like really mean. Honest, swee… I mean Eff. They’re your friends. I wants you to have friends. If they wanna come over and sing n read n … do theatre, that’s fine.

…

It’s just … I should be doin’ those things!

I know.

I shoulda been there for Am’s first word! What’s next? Ian’s gon’ start callin’ Flavius “papa”? I’m glad someone’s there helpin’ ya out. I am, but damn it … it should be me! Right? Why can’t I be a part of their life too? I’m their father!

You know why, Haymitch.

But I ‘aven’t been drinkin’ all that much lately. Honest! And there are ways around it.

It’s not that simple.

Why couldn’t it be? I know I ain’t perfect, sweetheart. I know I’m not good at it like you are but … don’t ‘ey need me too? Just a lil’ bit? I mean, come on! You said I could see ‘em if I was sober.

And you’re not!

I would be. If you were here. And it’s not like they know wha’s goin’ on, anyway. They’re babies, Eff. Even if I had a cold one right in front of ‘em it wouldn’t affect or hurt ‘em. I won’t fuck ‘em up. I won’t!

That’s what you need to believe in order to sleep at night.

Why’d ya have to be so mean, I already said I’m sorry!! *sobs* I cleaned the house up. Tha’s where I was before. Ask Peeta if you don’t believe me. Whole fuckin’ place: spick and span now. I don’t even live with Sae no more. All week long I just wash everything. Threw out a mountain o’ crap. G-got all their toys ready, so you and … you … Effs, I can’t live like this! It feels like a part of me’s been cut off! I need to see my kids. Bring the prep team along if you must, I’ll wait on them hand and foot, just … please come home! You can’t keep punishing me like this, Eff. It’s too cruel. *sobs* They’re my children too.

I’m not being cruel. I’m just trying to keep this family afloat. Haymitch, I know you’re hurting … but this isn’t about you. Or me. It’s about them. What’s best for them. *draws a deep breath* Look … what we can do or at least try is buy a videophone and install it in the nursery. That way you can both see and talk to each other.

*sniffs* For real? You promise? Yeah … yeah, that’d be great!

But, Haymitch! You need to show me that you’re serious about it, OK? You have to be a grownup here. A real parent. If we do this and you disappoint them …

I won’t! Never!

No showing up drunk. Or hungover. And if we say Tuesday at 2PM that means Tuesday 2PM. No excuses!

No excuses. I swear.

We’ll try that for a while and if you can make it work – then we can talk some more about the prospect of you visiting. But you have to earn it, Haymitch. You must do the work. You.

Yeah, totally! Absolutely! *wipes his nose* Can I tell ‘em g’night? I won’t wake ‘em or anything. Just g’night?

Not when you’re like this. Tomorrow maybe. We’ll talk then. You and I for sure. Now, put that bottle down, Haymitch and go to sleep. Or if not sleep then at least try and rest. Lay down on the bed or the couch and close your eyes. Things will feel different in daylight.

Can you at least tell ‘em I love ‘em? I mean, like … really make sure they know?

I will. Of course. I already do. Every day.

Author's note: And Haymitch's destructive cycle has gone full circle again, only to start over AGAIN. The Trinket Abernathy family truly is completely codependent. What do you think will happen next? Tell me in the comments!

Also, anyone else feeling curious about this Briar Rose character? She was supposed to just be the delivery woman in this one scene but I have a strong feeling this isn't the last we'll ever see of her.