#i realised this on a walk and had to sing both parts several times to confirm

[haethealhell]

btw melanthius' part in Odysseus is to the same tune as ody's and eury's part in Storm

"Brothers, we've got company and he's made a grave mistake" = "Head towards the island but avoid the crashing waves"

"Left the weapons room unlocked, and now they're ours to take" = "Tread where the tide is flat, and then we will be saved"

"Brothers, come and arm yourselves, there's a chance for us to win" = "Captain, we will capsize with these waves, our fleet will fail" not quite the same, but still similar

"We can still defeat the king if we all attack the prince" = "Have them follow my ship, I'll ensure that we prevail" also not quite the same but you know what i mean

jorge was this on purpose? and if so what the fuck does it mean???

[papercorgiworld]

No date for the bully pt.2?? I lowk wanna see the boys make fool of themselves lmao😭 bonus points if like he's trynna convince the reader and his friend group catches him in the act😨🫶

Dear anon, thanks for requesting. Sorry for making you wait a decade, but I did go for the bonus points. I hope you like it!

Happy readings!

No date for the bully?

A fluffy part 2 for Enzo and Mattheo.

Read part 1 here: No date for the bully.

You feel eyes following you when you enter the great hall for dinner, but decide to ignore the feeling. However, when you sit down you can’t help but get chills, making your head turn with a frown on your face. “What’s wrong?” George asks as he follows your wandering eyes. You shake your head and turn back to the plate in front of  you. “I have this feeling that someone’s watching me but I must be imagining it.” Fred chuckles and meets George’s eyes, but neither of them speak up. You narrow your eyes at both of them. “What?” You snap at them after several seconds of silence. George grins widely but keeps his mouth shut. So you decide to give Fred a dark glare, making him laugh. “I think it’s your slytherin lover over there.” You follow Fred’s eyes to the slytherin table. “Rumor has it that he might have a little crush on you.” George adds as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Ugh.” You make your disgust very clear to the amusement of everyone at the gryffindor table. “There’s lots of girls here that would love to go out with the slytherin heartthrob.” George sings and you roll your eyes. “He’s a bully. I’m not gonna waste my time on him. And it doesn’t matter, knowing him he’s probably playing some twisted game.”

After dinner you hang out with your friends in the courtyard. When it gets late you decide to say your goodbyes. You really need to be fresh for potions class tomorrow. You jawn as quietly walk to Hogwarts castle when suddenly you hear someone yell at you. “Watch it, slow girl!” You recognise Theodore Nott’s voice as he flies just above your head. You duck and avoid Draco crashing into you. Quickly Blaise, Enzo and Mattheo follow flying all the way up to the astronomy tower. There was really no purpose for them to fly near you other than to startle you and laugh at the terrified look on your face. Draco’s laughter echoes. “Did you see her ugly face!”

You roll your eyes and sigh in annoyance. Shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the nasty feeling. As soon as you enter the castle you feel more at ease and take a deep breath, enjoying the castle’s warmth. 

“Hey, wait up.” You hear a familiar voice and turn around. To your surprise it’s…

Enzo Berkshire.

“I want to apologise… for just now…and probably all other things.” You roll your eyes and turn back around to continue walking to your dorm. “I just realised that we were laughing and you… you weren’t laughing. We probably scared you.” You raise your eyebrows and ignore him, walking away from his apologetic figure. “I’m really sorry.” You stop and notice the undeniable sincerity in Enzo’s voice. You turn in the middle of the staircase to see Enzo staring up at you from below. He offers you a weak half smile, but he doesn’t hide the guilt he feels. You’re curious so you take a few steps down. 

“Actions speak louder than words, Berkshire. Prove you are sorry. No more bullying.” You demand, you try to sound stern but it comes out softer than you expected. Maybe you had a soft spot for Enzo Berkshire after all. The sheepish slytherin nods and his signature happy smile returns his lips. You catch yourself staring at his soft lips and shake off the feelings inside you. It’s all just words. Slytherin trademark sweet talk. You give Enzo a sweet smile and say goodnight. He’s obviously shocked that you can walk away from him so easily. Even though his apology was sincere, part of him had hoped that it would break down the wall between you two and give him a chance to charm you. 

Feeling a bit defeated that you hadn’t fallen into his arms just yet, Enzo nods and turns away from your figure moving up the stairs. But after two steps he can’t resist trying to win you over a little more. “How about a picnic by the Black Lake on sunday?” You bite your lip at his offer, but put on a poker face before turning towards Enzo. “No mockery from you or your friends.” You state your demand. A smirk instantly tugs on Enzo’s lips and you already regret agreeing after seeing the hint of arrogance flicker in his eyes. “Meet me in the courtyard at 4.” You roll your eyes as he offers you a cheeky wink before leaving.

***

Enzo’s week had been rather exhausting keeping his friends away from you so they wouldn’t do anything to ruin his chance with you. He had considered just asking them to leave you alone, but he just knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Months ago he had stood up for you once, when his friends were trash talking about you. It was Draco’s signature snort that started a long evening of his friends making fun of him for liking… sweet silly you. 

Enzo had noticed you glancing over at him from time to time. It had only made him more nervous. He probably only had one chance to make a good impression on you. The picnic had to be perfect! Staring at himself in the mirror Enzo moved the comb through his hair again. When suddenly a feeling of anxiety rushed through him. Fuck. I like her… I really, really like her! That’s why I’ve been so nervous. 

Enzo runs a hand through his hair, before giving himself a little pep-talk: “You got this Berky. You’re gonna charm her. You're gonna be funny and cool. She’s gonna love you… You’re gonna get married.” With a confident smile he grabs his jacket, sliding into it and grabbing a box of sweets he had bought for you as well as the picnic basket. “Let’s charm the future lady Berkshire.” 

As soon as Enzo closes the door behind him and heads for the courtyard, Draco speaks up from inside the closet in their dorm. “By Salazar! Get your foot off mine, Theo, you giant!” Mattheo opens the closet door feeling slightly claustrophobic, making Blaise stumble outside as well. Quickly followed by Draco and Theo. “So Enz’s is going on some secret date?” Theo questions not really believing what he had just overheard Enzo say. Mattheo grins. “With his future lady.” Blaise shakes his head in disapproval of Mattheo’s wiggling eyebrows. “Who do you think this girl is?” Draco says stretching his legs, very much bothered by the fact that he doesn’t know everything going on in his friend group. “As much as I am against this, we could always follow him.” Blaise suggests, not able to resist the curiosity within himself. His suggestion is met with eager grins from his friends.

You watch Enzo struggle with the picnic blanket and quickly cast a spell to make it settle down on the grass neatly as you casually walk over to him. You were worried that it might look like you tried too hard with your elegant spring dress and perfectly matching vest and shoes, but Enzo’s obvious staring tells you that he probably isn’t thinking too much about it and he’s simply enjoying the view. “I got you this.” Enzo coughs and diverts his eyes, embarrassed about his staring. Play it cool, don’t drool! Enzo quickly offers you the box of sweets he got you. “Another apology for my behaviour.” He says as he gives you a sheepish smile. You curiously open the box, peeking inside as Enzo continues to set up the picnic. 

“Thank you, Enzo. I love these.” You say, making the slytherin smile like a happy child. You’re surprised by his softness. You had never seen him like this. “I wasn’t sure what you would like so I got a plate with a bit of everything, so we can snack as long as we want.” Enzo presents a plate of all things delicious, but you’re startled by who you see approaching. Noticing the delight disappear from your eyes and turn to worry, Enzo spins his head around to meet who you were looking at. “Oi, mate, is she really your future lady Berkshire?” Mattheo spits out with no shame to reveal Enzo’s secret. 

“You were at Hogsmeade for the day.” Enzo argues as he jumps up, panic fills his eyes. “You were studying.” Draco counters, crossing his arms and frowning at his friend for lying. “Well for all we know he was planning on studying… anatomy.” Theo smirks, his intense eyes scanning your figure beautifully accentuated by your dress. Enzo turns back to see your discomfort under Theo’s gaze. “Back off.” Enzo  suddenly growls at Theo giving him a light shove, causing Mattheo to immediately intervene, pushing Enzo back before Theo gets any ideas and things escalate. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you were meeting her?” Blaise asks, silencing everyone with the seriousness and calmness in his voice. Enzo looks back at you with worried eyes, it was clear you were curious for the answer as well. Enzo opens his mouth but only some awkward sounds come out so you step in. “Let me answer that for him.” You say as you get up from the picnic blanket. “He’s embarrassed.” Enzo turns to you and your eyes lock with him. “He's embarrassed he is on a date with the slow girl.” Draco laughs and raises his eyebrows with a grin. When Enzo doesn’t speak up your turn away from him. 

Enzo’s face looks pained and Mattheo and Blaise start to feel a little sorry for their friend. “Pretty fast walking away from you, Berkshire.” Draco jokes as he raises his eyebrows and before anyone can interfere Enzo answers with a flick of his wand. You turn when you hear a cry from Draco and see him lying on the ground whining. Then your eyes land on Enzo yelling with his wand in hand. Blaise jumps in front of Enzo trying to calm an apparently very angry Enzo. 

Your eyebrows knit together as you watch the ordeal. What was Enzo’s deal… Does he like me or not? 

Your question, however, was quickly answered when you heard Enzo yell. “You morons ruined this for me! I had one chance, one chance, with this girl and you ruined this… and NO before any of you come with your lame arguments that there are other or better girls, there aren’t any I care about like I care about (y/n)! You guys are shite friends!” Mattheo sighs at Enzo’s speech and helps Draco up. “Could’ve just told us you like her.” Enzo shakes his head in confusion but lowers his wand a little. “Yeah, she’s a little slow sometimes but you don’t need a girl to be bright to have the bed creaking all night.” Enzo isn’t pleased with Theo’s comment. “She’s not slow! She’s intelligent and, and perfect. She got an A+ on Snape’s last test when you only got an A, Theo, so just shut up.” 

“Impossible!” Theodore snaps, disgusted by the idea. “No, not really. Ask Snape.” You smugly counter with arms crossed as you walk back to the group of Slytherins. Enzo’s surprised you were still there and walking towards him. Standing a few steps away from him you offer your hand. “Come on Enz, I know a spot.” Enzo's eyes widened with confusion and shock. “Really?” You nod. “You stood up for me. You deserve a second chance.” His eyes go all shiny and you smile at how lovestruck the slytherin is.

Draco’s wrinkles his nose in disgust as the two of you walk hand in hand.. “Ugh, we’re gonna have to be nice to her, aren’t we?” 

Mattheo Riddle.

“What do you want, Riddle?” You ask, faking a toughness that didn’t really fit you. “Honestly? You.” You groan in disgust at the arrogance of the Slytherin and turn to continue walking up the stairs. Mattheo’s confident smile drops and he chases after you, something he hates. He’s not one to run after girls. They either fall to his feet or they aren’t of any importance. “Okay, I’m a first class douche, I know. I’m sorry, alright?” Your eyebrows knit together at his pathetic excuse for an apology and you don’t even bother to turn to him. However, Mattheo is persistent and casts a quick spell to make you turn and stumble into him. You immediately give him a shove to put some distance between you two. “I mean it.” He says with a serious voice, but you're not convinced since Slytherins were known for their lies. 

“Riddle, you’re a good looking guy and you know it. I’m just not interested so go bother someone else.” You sigh and try to turn around. “You’re not interested in me because you have this wrong image of me, a bully and worse the son of…” His eyes turn farther away from you as he continues. But you don’t buy his pity act. “I’m not interested because you’ve never said a nice thing to me in your life.” You stare at him accusingly, hoping he will see he has no business with you.

“That’s not true.” He counters instantly, making your heart race with how sure he is of himself. “Remember last year when we had the assignment in the forbidden forest and the group split from the professor. I kept an eye on you the whole time to make sure you were safe. Or when your potion exploded last week I cast a spell protecting you so none of the boiling liquid would burn you. I watch out for yo-” You groan in disbelief, before yelling at him loudly. “YOU! It’s you and your friends! You fools ruined my potion! You were the reason the professor lost half of the students!” You sigh and cross your arms, trying to regain your cool. This guy wasn’t worth the air in your lungs. “Just earlier you startled me for no reason and if any of you had miscalculated I could’ve gotten hurt and-” “I know, I know. That’s why I came to apologise.” There’s something pleading in Mattheo’s eyes that keeps you from walking off.

Mattheo takes your silence and the fact that you haven’t run off yet as a good sign and takes a step closer to you. “Look, I know I’m gonna have to put in a lot of effort to convince you that I’m not a total piece of shit, but you have to give me a chance.” As you listen to Mattheo’s plea you spot Draco and Theo peaking around the corner, no doubt listening in to what’s happening. You suppress a smile as an idea pops up into your head. “So I have to believe that the Mattheo Riddle doesn’t think I’m a slow girl and instead… likes… me?” You look at Mattheo with innocent questioning eyes. “(y/n), you’re smart, beautiful and I believe kind enough to find it in your heart to give me a chance. Let me take you out… somewhere fancy, my treat. I’ll spoil you and you’ll forget all the stupid things I’ve done.” You shake your head and turn away, knowing that he won’t let you get very far. “You’re playing me, Riddle.”

You bite your lip when you feel a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. “No I’m not… Honestly I wish I was, but you live in my head rent free and I need you to give me a chance.” 

Mattheo’s heart cracks when he hears a familiar snicker and turns to see Draco and Theo’s head pop up from around a corner. When he turns to you again he spots a mean smile. He made a fool out of himself being this honest and his eyes go dark as he curses himself. He lets go of your wrist immediately. “I guess this is what revenge looks like.” He says between gritted teeth. You huff. “Don’t wallow in your own self pity, it’s not a good look, Riddle.” 

“You live in my head rent free” Draco mocks now standing at the foot of the stairs with Theo and Enzo, who had just joined. It’s when you see Mattheo watch his laughing friends that you spot the honest hurt in his expression. “Whatever.” Mattheo breathes out and takes a lazy step down to his friends. His dead eyes, his slumped shoulders and the crack in his voice. There was no way he was that good of a liar. “Hey.” You say with a shaky voice just above a whisper. Terrified of what you were about to do: give Mattheo Riddle of all people a chance. “I like to study near the willow on Tuesday afternoons, you should join me sometime.” You whisper and give him a sympathetic smile.

Mattheo stops in his tracks and watches you walk away. He can barely believe that he got an invitation to spend time with you. “You look like a fool, Matt.” Theo grins as he walks up to stand next to Mattheo. “Shut up, Nott.” Mattheo growls but there’s a sweet smile that he just can’t hide. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Enzo sings with an amused grin. “You’re not seeing anything.” Mattheo counters immediately, turning around to walk back to the courtyard, keeping his head low to avoid his grinning friends’. With Mattheo a few steps ahead, Draco turns to Theo and Enzo with a frown on his face. “Does that mean we have to be nice to her from now on?” Even though there’s quite some distance between you and the Slytherins, you can still hear Mattheo answer with a firm tone. “Yes.” You bite your lip to hide your smile from the curious looks of the paintings around you. Who would have thought, Mattheo Riddle…

Picture 1: https://pin.it/1zDoVgADf

Picture 2: https://pin.it/2EcRt844A

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.2 K Warnings: angst Prompt: After fighting some of those deamons, will the rest of Vixen's issues be resolved? Is there a way to be happy even without the boys? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

You leaned down and took one of the Mirror shreds in your hands. Depending on where you moved it, you could see reflections from all the things you’d seen inside: Sirius crying, Remus desperate, your father crying for your mother, and you crying for Nina. You being dropped from your father’s arms and several other moments. You sighed, placed the shred in your bag, and walked towards the clock. If you had one of the parts, then not even the most expert reparo, and neither would all the king’s men, put Riapsed together again. 

When you crossed over to the other vault, you took the three keys on the face of the clock and placed them in your bag alongside all the money you’d already taken. You gave one long look to the vault, at the books lying on the floor and at the harp singing its sorrowful song in the back. You didn’t understand why your father had created the riddle for you. You didn’t understand why he kept making things harder, but in the end, it didn’t matter. 

Not as long as you didn’t follow the same steps he would, not as long as you made the choices he would scorn. 

You walked outside of the vault, the goblin, Tharnock, was waiting patiently there for you. Your little odyssey through memory lane had eaten up about 2 hours, and you had to get out before people knew you were there, or before Thernock realised how weird the entire thing had been for him. 

“Are you finished, Miss?” 

You nodded, “Yes, thank you.” 

Tharnock walked you back to the minecart and you were both back in the main hall in a matter of minutes. The goblin gave you the key as you walked past the golden gates, he went back to his desk and you walked the hell away from the bank. Once outside, you used the hairpin to blend within the crowd and walked towards a less transited street. 

You still hadn’t eaten at all over the weekend. But the strong emotions revolting inside you didn’t make you want to go and buy something either. You checked the clock and decided it was about time to raise your wand. The knight bus appeared a couple of minutes later.

“Where to, Lassie?” the same pudgy guy that had picked Beth and Tom asked. 

“Hogsmeade,” you replied. 

“Hot chocolate?” 

You contemplated the idea for a second. You had tried to drink the hot chocolate before and you didn’t like the idea of getting it all over yourself again, although it was quite tasty. “No thank you,” you said in the end.

“That’ll be 11 Sickles then.” You paid with a galleon. “No change, Lass?” 

“Sorry, no.”

He grumbled something about people never carrying change and then handed you 6 sickles. One of them was sticky and you tried not to make a disgusted face as you wiped it on your jeans and walked into one of the few available seats. The trip wasn’t too long, but by the time you were in Hogsmeade, you wanted to puke. 

“Thanks for using the Knight Bus, come back soon!” The guy said as you and a few other students you didn’t recognise got down from the train. It was cold outside, and you walked straight towards Honeydukes. 

The train had arrived at Hogwarts about an hour before and plenty of students roamed around Hogsmeade, making some last-minute purchases and stocking up on candies and such. They all looked happy and carefree. You had been like that before, you sorrowfully wondered if you’d ever get to smile that big. 

There was a couple kissing in the Alley behind the Three Broomsticks, and you flinched when you noticed the way the guy was holding her. It was a thing Sirius used to do all the time. You looked at them for more than would have seen appropriate, took a deep breath and continued walking. 

“Hey, Starkeeper!” You heard someone calling from behind. Funny he called you that, you hadn’t been particularly good at keeping your star.

He ran up to you and stopped right in front of you with a frown. He looked all over your face. “Sorry, I thought you were…” You took off the hairpin, and Minho looked at you in shock. “I knew it was you!” he whispered-shouted as he leaned closer, placing an arm over your shoulder and covering as much of you as he could with his chest. “Why are you hiding, is it because of Christmas?”  

“Nice to see you, Min” you said with a small smile. You were genuinely happy about not being alone. “Tom– Tom told you about Christmas?” 

“No?” he asked, confused. “My parents did. They had been invited to the party, Arkalis is Dad’s coworker, but we were travelling back to Korea to visit our family for Christmas. Mum feels terrible about not going, they were told everything that happened, she wished she could have helped you.” 

“Oh,” you said as you took a deep breath. You knew Minho’s parents worked in politics, his father was an ambassador from the Korean Ministry of Magic (KMM), but you’d also heard that in Asia there wasn’t as much prejudice against muggles as there was in England. In fact, much like the Americans, they didn’t have a derogatory term for them, but rather they called the 비마법사 or 비마법 for short, which basically translates to non-wizard or non-wiz. And there was no such term as Muggle-born either, a wizard was a wizard, that simple. 

Obviously, Minho had been in shock when he found out such a term existed and that’s why he was such good friends with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, he just didn’t understand the whole bIood purity bias some of the Slytherins insisted on, not even if he was also a pure bIood. Unfortunately, even if the KMM considered all wizards wizards, they did not see different sexual preferences as openly as the Eastern part of the world did. In fact, they deemed homosexuality as a “European deviation” even if it had existed in Asia for the same amount of time. Of course, Minho was horrified at the idea of being outed. 

“Yeah,” he continued. “They think what you did was insanely brave. They were talking about you at breakfast. They recognised you as the Gryffindor seeker and I had to tell them you were actually the keeper instead. They came to our match a couple of months ago, the one where you threw yourself off the broom to beat Reggie to the snitch? You know, right?” You nodded, it’s not like you could forget about that. “Anyway, they said they thought you were really determined then, but that they didn’t know just how brave you were until they heard about the party.” 

You swallowed, you had been told that by adults more than once in the past few days. Brave, determined, and you might have been all those things, but you were also alone now. Your bravery had charged a hefty price in return. Minho noticed you were upset, and he leaned a little closer, cocking his head as he looked at you. “Have you eaten? I’m going to meet Tom at The Three Broomsticks.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, and then closed it again, shaking your head in response. You were pretty sure mentioning to Minho –Mr. Healthy– of all people that you hadn’t eaten since Friday would have you listening to a very long talk about the importance of food and how it fuels your body and whatnot. 

“So it’s my treat then,” Minho said as he pushed you along with him. “For saving the world!” You were about to argue. “Don’t even think about it, young lady,” he retorted. 

Minho had gotten a lot bossier since he started dating Tom. You sighed and didn’t argue further, which had him throw a weary glance at you. You almost always sassed him back in some way or another. By the time the two of you arrived at the restaurant, Tom was already sitting on one of the tables with two butterbeers ordered.

“Slysprite!” he said once he spotted you, and leaned in to pull you into a hug. He also gave an awkward hug to Minho, as if both wanted to stay together for longer but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to do it in public. Tom waited for you to sit down and handed you his jug of butterbeer. He looked at you patiently as you took a big gulp. You were about to ask Minho if he could buy you something heavier when Tom spoke again, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

Tom gave you a look. “Sirius and Remus were whispering to each other the entire train ride, James was clearly angry about it and you were nowhere to be seen. In fact, I’d dare say you left since the party on Friday. Effie said something about you feeling sick, but I didn’t buy shit. What happened?” 

“Tom,” Minho said in a warning tone. 

“Nope,” the blue-eyed boy said with a hand finger up as if to tell Minho not to meddle. “What happened?” he insisted.

You sighed and raised the butterbeer with your hand. “Do you have some real alcohol?” 

“Minho, babe?” he said with a small pout, Minho threw him a look, but Tom called most people babe anyway. Even if Minho knew his was special. “Would you be a darling and bring this kind lady some whiskey?” 

“She hasn’t eaten, Tom.” 

“But she surely had breakfast, right?” You didn’t respond, only raised one of your eyebrows at him. “See, go get her some.” 

Minho stood up and walked towards the bar, he was the only one old enough to buy Fire Whiskey, and he got two glasses since he knew Tom would want some, and he’d drink a bit from his glass. He also ordered fries and a dish to share.

“You look like shit,” Tom said.

“Well, thank you,” you responded and took a sip from the butterbeer, they had never felt bitter to you before, and yet this time it was almost hard to swallow the foamyness of it.

“I mean, why the hell did you leave the Potters’? Do you know how dangerous that is?” 

“I’ve almost diеd plenty of times in the last couple of days,” not to mention the last couple of hours, you thought. “I had to leave.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!”  

Minho arrived with the drinks and handed you the glass, you thanked him and dragged it to your mouth, drinking the double whiskey he’d ordered in one swing. Minho, who had barely let go of it, took hold of it again and pulled it from your mouth, as he placed the food on the centre of the table. He was sitting beside you now, using his body to cover your face from most of the restaurant “Ey, Ey!” He said. “What’s wrong?” He looked at you with genuine concern, both boys did, which only made you feel even worse. 

You looked at them for a second and then turned to Minho with the hopes of changing the subject. “Tell me about your Christmas, Min. Did you see all your cousins?” 

The boy sighed and turned to Tom for help. Minho would have probably responded and would have distracted you from everything that was going on, but Tom was more of the “no-nonsense” kind of guy. He looked at Minho sternly and shook his head slowly. Minho frowned at him in return, as if it pained him not to comply. 

“Slysprite!” Tom chided. “You just downed a glass of Firewhisky like it was water, your face tells me you’ve slept like shit and Sirius and Remus are just as bad as you. James looks exasperated and I’m sorry to be the one to knock some sense into you, but you look like you bought a liquor store and drank it.” 

“I’m not drunk.”  That was true, the entire Gringotts adventure had been enough to sober you up. 

“It’s not what I mean,” Tom responded pointedly. “You know it’s not what I mean.” 

“I’ve had quite a fucking day, Tom.” 

“Well then, go on and tell us about it. What the fuck is wrong with the boys?” 

You sighed, if you didn’t say it then it wasn’t real. And yet you would say it now. “I broke up with Sirius.” 

“What did he do?” Minho asked.

“Why does everyone assume it was he that did something?” 

“Because it’s Sirius Black,” Tom responded. “If not then, why? You look miserable about it, so it’s not because you didn’t want to be with him.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” you said as you hid your head in between your arms and let out a sad groan. 

“Then?” 

“You can’t tell anyone.” 

“Well, we’re both great at keeping secrets,” Minho said, and you turned to him with an incredulous look. 

“That was an accident!”

“I’ll put a tongue twister spell on him after, you cool with that, babe?” 

“For sure.” 

You sighed, “It’s not because of what he did, it’s because of what he wouldn’t have done.” 

“Which is?” 

“Date Remus.” 

Both boys eyed each other confused before turning to you again, your head was buried in between your arms, and you didn’t say a word. 

“What?” Tom asked with a frown.

“I accidentally bumped into Remus jerking off to Sirius’ name…” 

“Well, we’ve all jerked off to Sirius’ name,” Tom said as if it was a non-issue. Minho was about to protest, but after thinking about it for a second longer, he remembered he too had done it.

You threw him an exasperated look, “Maybe, but you don’t look at Sirius the way Remus does.” 

Tom closed his mouth. Minho just frowned as he looked at you. What about the way he looks at you? he wondered. 

“And then I felt like shit because Remus is my best friend and he likes Sirius and I was in the middle of that and–” 

“But Sirius likes you,” Tom interrupted. “I’ve never seen him like anyone in the way he likes you.” 

“Which is why he would have suffered in silence,” you added. “He likes Remus too,” you sighed. “After I found out, I paid closer attention. I was so bIoody blinded by his beautiful eyes, long lashes and prince-like looks. I was not looking at the way he always veered closer to Remus. Heck, I took a fucking picture of the two of them cuddling each other because I thought it was cute once I slept with them.” 

“You… slept with Remus and Sirius at the same time?” Miho asked, confused.

“What? No! We were cuddling not shagging,” you said as if it made it more normal. “Anyway, I totally get it. I mean, Remus is tall and handsome and has those beautiful eyes of his that are always a different colour. He’s clever and brilliant and good at all the classes he takes, but also gentle and kind, not to mention he’s fucking ripped… I cannot blame Sirius for falling for him. And of course, I could never blame Rem for liking Sirius, I’m on the same fucking boat.” 

Tom was looking at your problem, and all he could see was the solution and a very interesting one at that. But he wasn’t just outright going to say it, he had to allow you to discover it yourself. “And do tell, Slysprite, what else is there to like about Remus Lupin?” He asked sceptically. Minho looked at him with a frown and Tom gave him a reassuring nod.

“What else?” you asked in disbelief. “What isn’t to like about Remus? You know he is perceptive as fuck? He knew I was feeling down and helped me feel better, he’d met me a fucking week ago. He’s always three steps ahead of you, I swear I can never beat him on magic chess, he’s a brilliant duelist, and incredible at DADA. He knows the best book recommendations and he speaks so softly when he reads to you. When–” you hesitated. “When Nina and Mum diеd he was there to comfort me. He didn’t ask questions, he just hugged me and listened, he’d such an incredible listener. He can be moody sometimes but that just adds to how charming he is and I– I mean… he’s the best friend I could have ever asked for, I could not imagine how incredible he would be as a partner. Sirius will be lucky to have him. Anyone would.” 

“Aha,” Tom said as he nodded and looked at you. 

“What?”

Tom shrugged, “Nothing,” he said. “It just sounds to me that… you like him as well.” 

You looked at Tom, your back straightened for a second as you pulled back, and you let out a hollow breath, then you gulped. If it hadn’t been for the dire situation you were in, Tom would have taken a picture of how hilariously dumbfounded you looked. 

You groaned and buried your head in between your arms again. “Thanks, Tom! Way to make me more fucking miserable!” you mumbled.

Another thing you had been too blind to see. Fucking Ricchie had been saying that for ages, Reflection Nina had also mentioned something similar. The fox surrounded by the moon and stars? The lady at the three broomsticks? Symbolism was everywhere. Heck, you kept stealing his fucking sweaters because you loved the way they smelled.

“More miserable?” Tom scoffed a laugh. “Darling this is the best thing that could have happened to you!” 

“How?!” You asked, turning back at him, tone angry and bitter. 

“Well, simple: Sirius likes you and Remus, You like Remus and Sirius, Remus likes Sirius and you. It’s a throuple.”

“Remus doesn’t like me!” 

“Oh, he does,” Minho said casually. 

“What?” You asked as you turned to him, he seemed so sure about it. 

“I’ve seen those loving eyes of Remus before, he’s smitten.” 

“But that’s–” Impossible! 

Is it? Really? 

Remus had always been there for you. You remembered his worried expression when he found you on the snow, the hesitance by which he touched you, the way he looked at you back at the Halloween party, the way he would complain about you taking his sweaters but would always wear them after he got them back, when they still smelled of you. 

The way he blushed when you teased him about Alice, how he always seemed slightly disconnected when talking about her, or sex, for that matter, with you. If he thought of you as a friend, and only as a friend, would he be uncomfortable over it? Had James ever been? 

“Oh,” you said as realisation hit you. “Oh,” you said again when you realised how fucking miserable you had made them both. Of course, Remus would never go for Sirius, not if he loved you as well, it was the fucking reason you had –stupidly– broken up with Sirius in the first place. “I’ve been an idiot!” 

“There it is,” Tom said with a satisfied nod and got head slapped by Minho who was a lot more comprehensive over your struggling feelings.

“Tom, you’re brilliant,” you said as you stood up from the chair and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I owe you big time, we all do!” you said thinking of your boys. Yes, your boys. Didn’t that sound delightful?” 

“What are you going to do?” Minho asked.

“Find them,” you said matter of factly. “Find them and talk to them.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Tom cheered and took out some parchment from his bag as the door shut behind you. 

“What are you doing?” Minho asked him as he leaned over the paper. 

“Writing Beth,” he said. “I think I won the bet.” 

“What bet?” 

“The one about those three having a very intense threesome,” Tom said casually and got another head slap from Minho. 

“Oi,” he complained and pushed him playfully. Not that it did anything to Minho, Tom had always been smaller. 

“Don’t bet on peoples’ feelings!” Minho chided. 

“What about yours?” 

“What about mine?” 

“Can I bet on the feelings you have for me?” Tom asked almost in a whisper as he leaned closer to his boyfriend. He had a small smirk when he leaned back, it growing wider when he noticed the tip of Minho’s ears reddening. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Minho said as he covered his face with his palms, maybe then it would be less evident how blushed he’d become.

Tom just smiled and patted him on the back, “That makes you a bigger idiot since you fell for me.” 

You ran through Hogsmeade and used a disillusionment charm to walk through the back door and into the cellar. From there you climbed down the hatch and almost bumped into James as you turned to walk. 

“Vixen?” he asked. He couldn’t see you at all. “Did you get an invisibility cloak or something?” 

“What?” you asked, confused. “Finite incantatem,” you said and looked at him with a frown. 

“It was a disillusionment charm? I couldn’t see you at all.” 

“Maybe you should get your eyes checked,” you said as you leaned closer to Prongs and took his glasses from his face. 

It was like you were surging with energy now, excitement and a bit of nervousness buzzing through your very atoms as you thought of being able to kiss Sirius again, of never having to stop. As you thought of how soft Remus’s lips would be on yours, how happy it would make him to know that he could have what he wanted without hurting anyone at all. 

“Are you okay?” James asked, concerned. You looked nothing like what you’d sounded through the earrings. 

“Totally!” you replied. “Do you know where Sirius and Remus are?” 

“Well, I’m not sure… I think Slughorn wanted to talk with Remus about some potion he’s been working on with a student and he went there. Sirius…? I have no idea.” 

“Do you have the map?” you asked. James shook his head and you handed back his glasses. “These seem all right to me,” you said with a shrug. 

“Moony must have it,” he added, still confused.

“Oh, that’s excellent, I need to go to the dungeons then,” you said and turned around to speed off, but James caught up to you and pulled you to turn to him. 

He was looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked solemnly, both hands on your shoulders as he stared at you attentively. 

You were almost dragged back to reality by his question. Bad things still happened around you, dark and sad, and life-threatening things. You were still upset about what happened, but you weren’t hopeless anymore. There was light at the end of the tunnel and the fact that you wouldn’t be alone as you faced all of it was as comforting as it was thrilling. Your boys, you’d get to see your boys. 

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile as you nodded. “I’m going to fix things.” 

“The thing with Remus and Sirius?” 

“Exactly that,” you added with a smile, James’ concern slowly turned into a small grin. 

“You’re telling me you found a way to have them stop being all moody?” 

“If the plan works,” you said with a shrug.

“You seem confident.” 

“It’s a good plan,” you retorted. James nodded and you turned around again. 

“Hey, Vix!” He said again. 

“Yeah?” you asked as you turned around. James smiled from how excited you seemed, and then turned to his bag, throwing the cloak at you. 

“Take this, might be useful.” 

“And you?” 

“I’ll disillusion myself to get out and walk back to the castle,” then he cocked his head to the side and bit his lip. “I heard Evans is going to be at Hogsmeade before dinner.” 

You smiled, “Good luck!” 

“You too.” 

You took off again, the cloak in your hands and your small, expansion charm bag bumping against your hip as you rushed through the passage. It hadn’t been many times that you’d taken the HoneyDukes way to the castle, but it was narrower and somehow less moist than the one on the Shack. 

You arrived at the one-eyed witch statue, took the cloak and wrapped it around yourself before speeding all the way to the dungeons. You stopped just outside the potions classroom. You could hear Slughorn’s voice from the door. 

“So, would you be interested in taking the potion for a test?” 

“You said Belby worked on this?” Remus asked. 

“Yeah, I believe he collaborated with someone too, but that person didn’t want to take any of the credit. They made some kind of deal, I believe.” 

“Okay,” Remus said as he took the potion in his hands and nodded. “I’ll tell you how it went next month.” 

“Very well, I’d like to get all your thoughts on a paper so I can hand those to Dacmocles. You may change your handwriting or use a Quick-Quotes quill, I believe Professor McGonagall has one and will gladly lend it to you.” Remus seemed hesitant after that. “Of course, both you and your partner will get extra points for your work. Not that you need much of those.” 

“Right, yes,” Remus said, trying not to grimace when the thought of you, still alone, Godric knows where, came crawling into his mind. “I’ll write the paper.” 

“Brilliant!” the professor retorted and went back to check the papers on his table, which prompted Remus to exit the room with a simple nod. You smiled as you saw him pass by you, determined to get somewhere as he pulled a very familiar parchment from his sweater, and walked towards one of the secret passages you used all the time.

You walked right behind him and watched as he swore over the map and used Lumos to see the words that slowly appeared on the parchment.

“Who are you looking for?” You asked, leaning just behind him and looking at the map just from the side of his shoulder. 

Remus almost jumped out of his skin, turning completely when he heard your voice, his shoulder accidentally hitting your chin since you didn’t have enough time to pull back. He didn’t notice though, too shocked about you literally appearing out of nowhere.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked as he placed both of his hands over your shoulders and inspected your face thoroughly, trying to check if you’d been hurt.

Yeah, it could have been hell, you thought. 

“We should talk.” 

“I was so worried, we all were, you shouldn’t have left like that!” Remus responded, completely ignoring your words and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Remus was scared you would push him away, he was terrified it was the last hug he gave you so he squeezed. 

“I thought I had to,” you said honestly. “You like Sirius.” 

Remus pulled back, “Starshine, I don’t know how you got that idea into your head but–”  

“It wasn’t a question.” 

“Would you let me speak?! I’m telling you, that’s ridiculous, not because I like boys does it mean–” 

“Remus,” you said a little more sternly. “You don’t have to lie to me.” 

“Why aren’t you bIoody listening?” He repeated, exasperated, you saw the flash of gold in his eyes. Even then, you thought it was charming. “It’s ridiculous that you think I would–” 

“I don’t blame you, I like him too.” 

“For Godric’s sake! I said I don’t–” 

“I saw you that night, with the coat,” you rushed out before he had time to protest again.  

Remus’ frown deepened. The night with the coat? He wondered, and then the images came to him, and he paled. “Whatever you thought you heard–” 

“You jerking off to my boyfriend’s name, you mean?” You asked with a knowing smile. Remus was utterly dumbfounded, you weren’t half as pissed as he expected you to be. Heck, you seemed diverted. 

“Is this funny to you?” Remus asked, face cold and tears welling up in his eyes. 

You instantly felt terrible for the way in which you’d said it. “NO! No, of course not,” you said and took a deep breath. “I was–” you bit your lip. “When I found out I was shocked– and pissed, because I hadn’t seen it before, because it was obvious that Sirius and I being together was hurting you and–” 

“It is not hurting me!” Remus defended. “You and Sirius are meant for each other and–” 

“So are you and him,” you said more calmly. “Perhaps more than me and him…” 

“That’s bullshit, he loves you, you know that.” 

You smiled again, that knowing sort of smile Remus couldn’t quite place, “He loves you too, you know?” 

Remus clenched his jaw as a frustrated exhale escaped through his nose. How ever could he respond to that? He hated this, he hated having caused you so much pain, because he was stupid and horny due to the moon and because he quite literally couldn’t keep it in his pants and because he was an idiot and–

“Remus,” you called his attention, driving him away from his destructive thoughts. “Do you like me too?” He turned to you even more shocked at your question. His face was one of anguish and despair as if he didn’t know what to say, or how to respond to such a question. “Be honest,” you added, calmly.

Remus shook his head with tears in his eyes. 

“Would you take veritaserum and deny it again?” 

“Are my words not enough?” 

“You didn’t even speak. And they weren’t enough for you when I told you I wasn’t afraid, nor were they when I told you I thought you were beautiful.” 

Remus swallowed, “Even if I did–” You were biting your lips to stop yourself from smiling. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter, would it? You need to go to Sirius and–” 

“Remus, I like you too,” you blurted out. “I don’t how I was so stupid not to realise it before. I mean the potion at the Slug Party, the way I cuddle with you, the way I’m always happy when you’re around. The way you make me laugh, the way you smell.” You had to take in some air from how fast you were speaking. “I was blind, completely blinded by Sirius to see–” 

“Do you not like Sirius anymore?” Remus asked, almost reproachingly. 

You laughed, “Of course, I like him still! He might be the love of my life, but we’re all a bunch of idiots, that’s what we are!”  

“Little Witch, I don’t think I’m following,” he responded confused. 

You took his head in both of his hands. “You beautiful, self-sacrificing idiot,” you said then. Remus wanted to retort with you being much worse than he was, but he wanted to see what the hell you meant by that more. You licked your lips, enticed to kiss his own, but you knew you had to talk to Sirius about it first. “Don’t you see? We’re all pinning for each other, mutually.” 

He didn’t speak, so you took that as a sign to continue, “You like me and Sirius, I like you and Sirius and Sirius liked the both of us.” 

“You’re saying–” he stammered, “you’re saying you want us all to be together?” 

“Well, wouldn’t that be the only natural solution? We were already together all the time–” 

“I don’t know about natural,” he muttered, you smiled. 

“The only difference would be that you could act on your desires and Sirius could act on his. Wouldn’t that make you happy?” 

“Would it make you happy?” 

“It would make me ecstatic!” you replied with a smile. “And I’m sure Sirius even more so, he’s been pining for you while being with me, he must have felt terribly guilty about it, but he never had to be. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time three people have fallen in love with each other.” 

“It’s a love triangle,” Remus huffed a laugh as he rolled his eyes. 

“But none of us has to be alone in the end,” you added with a smile, as you bit your lip, and then pressed a kiss to his cheek, right next to the spot your thumb had been resting on. Remus’ smile only widened and he leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head before your lips clashed with each other.

You didn’t miss the hurt look on his handsome features and you pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. “You don’t know how much I wanted you to do that, but we need to speak to Sirius first. No more lies, we all need to be honest with each other this time around.” 

“Sirius is gonna flip out when we tell him,” he muttered into your head. “He’s been sulking over being an idiot for falling in love with me since you left.”

“Then we’re both idiots,” you said with a small smile, still hugging Remus tightly. “Did you guys figure each other out?” 

Remus pulled back with a sceptical look. “Did you really think if you left, we were just going to start dating?” 

“You didn’t?” 

“Of course not!” he replied. “We were both upset, you left with no wand and alone! Nobody knew where you’d gone to, let alone if you were safe wherever you’d been and you were breaking apart because of Christmas. Sirius was drowning in guilt and to be honest, I wasn’t much better. We would have never been happy if we thought you were upset.” 

You bit your lip, looking down and thinking how much quicker things would have gotten solved if instead of running away, you had faced the issue head-on. If instead of leaving, you had brought Remus to the kitchen and forced him to talk things through with the two of you. 

Of course, you didn’t know he liked you too then, but perhaps you wouldn’t have had to go through Gringotts alone if you had. You wouldn’t have gone through those lonely, almost desolate days in which you drowned yourself in alcohol. 

“I guess it makes sense,” you said with a sad smile. “I couldn’t have continued on with Sirius if I thought it was hurting you either. Of that I was certain.” 

“As if you being with Sirius hadn’t already broken half of the school’s hearts,” Remus huffed.

You looked up at him with a smile, “Perhaps, but none of those hearts belong to my best friend.” 

You saw the faintest blush creep up on Remus’s cheeks, you were again tempted to pull him into a kiss, and you willed yourself to stop. Not until we talk to Sirius about it. 

“We should go to him,” you said with resolution. “Where is he?” you asked as you leaned down and picked the map up from the floor. 

“I was looking for you,” Remus admitted, as he leaned closer to you, helping you open the map as you held it. “I wanted to find you as soon as you got to the castle so both Sirius and I could ambush you. I was going to try and convince you I didn’t like him.” 

“More lies?” 

“You told Sirius you didn’t like him anymore,” he sassed back. He didn’t have to say it, you knew how hypocritical it was.

You huffed, “Maybe being in love really does make you more stupid,” you mumbled as your eyes scanned through the map. You saw Peter in the broom closet again, which made you assume he was “greeting” Annie Doxon. James was not at the castle, so he was probably still with Lily back at Hogsmeade. Some of the teachers were in their classrooms, the prefects were helping some of the first years out, or so you assumed since most of them were walking at rather random places inside the castle. The kind of which only the newer kids ended up in. 

“There,” Remus said. “Gryffindor tower, he must be in our room.” 

“Looks like we’ve set direction, captain,” you said with a smile. 

Remus smiled, but he faltered just seconds later. “Wait! How are you?” 

“Very excited about talking to Sirius.” 

“I don’t mean that,” Remus reproached. “I mean about Christmas.” 

You swallowed, and you took a deep breath. “I’m better,” you said honestly. “Well, at least I think I am. Kind of? Something happened in Diagon, I’ll tell both of you all about it after we’ve sorted this out, does that sound fair? One problem at a time…” 

“Will you actually talk about it?”  

You nodded, “I think I avoided the subject so much that it came crashing onto me like a full-speed train, but perhaps I needed that.” 

Remus gave you a weary look, clearly preoccupied with what you’d said, but he was certain he wouldn’t get anything else from you if you didn’t have that “Sirius talk” first. He nodded, still biting his lip as he placed a hand behind your shoulders and pushed you right in front of him, towards Gryffindor Tower. 

It was almost as if going through that first time you met him, when he took you to the passages so you didn’t get busted for being out late. You smiled as you walked, and at some point pulled out Nina’s wand to get some more light out. 

“Lumos,” you whispered. The light was blinding enough to illuminate the entire place before you managed to dim it. 

“What the– you bought a new wand?” Remus asked. 

You turned to him and showed him Nina’s. “Olivander refused to sell one to me, he said this one was meant to be mine.” 

“It’s…” he hesitated, he wasn’t sure he wanted to say her name. Every time they mentioned it you would instantly shut them out and become distant, and last time he suggested you use her wand, you were pretty clear when you told him why you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to remember everything that had happened every time you made a spell.

“Nina’s,” you finished for him. “Yeah, a lot of stuff happened in Diagon.” 

He placed a reassuring hand behind your neck, he was warm, and you hadn’t quite realised how much you craved his touch until you felt the pads of his fingers brush against your skin. You leaned closer to his hand almost instantly, relaxing into his touch. 

He smiled when he noticed and started playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. Remus had always known you liked being coddled, but at the same time he tried to maintain a decent distance since you were dating Sirius, but the fact that he could give you the type of solace he yearned to give, was somehow comforting to him in itself. Like that time when he found you on the snow, but without feeling terrible for betraying his best friend.

He was soft as he made his touch a little more purposeful, finding the tense muscles and pressing onto them with his warm hand, it was delightful, to say the least. “Is that okay?” he asked hesitantly. 

“It’s perfect,” you said honestly. “I knew you were good at petting, I mean you were brilliant with Vixen but –yeah there– I had no clue you’d be this good with humans.” 

Remus laughed at your praise to hide his blush, not that you were looking at him, your gaze was still focused ahead of you and you were carefully counting the turns, not to get lost. It was something you did often when you were inside the passages, and Remus thought the way you muttered 2 left, 1 right, straight, etc. was adorable. 

“I’ve got my hidden talents. Really good with my hands,” he replied with a bit of a smirk. “I’ll show them to you one day.” 

“Godric, Remus!” you said as you turned to him with a shocked scoff. “Who would have thought shy old Moony could be such a flirt?” 

“Only when it matters,” he said with a smile and then squeezed both his fingers onto a knot in your neck and you almost moaned. “I wasn’t lying.” 

“Show off!” you said as you rolled your eyes and swatted him playfully on the chest. This is nice, you thought. You missed being able to interact with them so casually. It was like you’d been walking on needles for too long, and suddenly you were taken to a soft meadow.

By the time you were close to the exit on the passage, you unfolded James’ cloak again, and placed it around yourself, that way you could follow Remus all the way to his room without being spotted. 

“Stand close,” he said.

You refrained from teasing him over it, deciding you’d tease him mercilessly once Sirius was in on the discovery. Remus walked inside the common room, greeted some of your classmates with a simple wave, and continued walking towards his room. The path you already knew so well, you could follow in almost complete darkness. Remus was about to open the door before he turned, looking over his shoulder before muttering, “Should I go in first or–” 

You disillusioned yourself and passed the cloak over his head once you made sure there was nobody else in the hall. “I’ll go in first. I should probably apologise to him,” you responded. Remus nodded. “Give me five minutes and then come inside.” 

You walked in, Sirius was sitting on Remus’ bed, head down and staring at his hands as he picked on his nails and bobbed his leg up and down. He didn’t look up when he heard the door, he seemed to be lost in thought. You saw a clear tear fall over his hand, and he was quick to wipe it out with his thumb.

“Puppy?” you asked as you deactivated the charm. 

He sprung from the bed in a second, his eyes were red-rimmed and he looked as bad, if not worse, than when you left him crying in James’ kitchen. “Starshine?” he asked, as he spotted you, as if he didn’t believe his eyes. And just like Remus had done, he went straight to wrap his arms around you and push you to him. “I thought I’d have to go look for you as soon as you got here. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said as you hugged him back, tightening your arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” you said then, thinking of how sad he was and how much you’d hurt him. Thinking of the moment when he’d begged you to be selfish for him and instead of complying, you’d lied and told him you didn’t love him. “I lied, I do love you! Don’t ever doubt that.” 

He pulled back, looking at you as confused as Remus had been earlier, more so when he was the tears pricking your eyes, “Starshine, what are you talking about? I’m the one that fucked up, I’m the one that–” 

“You asked me to be selfish for you, you told me to stop being the hero and I ignored your pleas, I only succeeded in making all of us miserable and–” 

“But it was I the one who fell in love with his best friend while dating you, It was I the one that… I should be on my knees beginning for forgiveness.” 

“No!” you said then. “There’s nothing to forgive! I was the idiot for leaving, not you!” 

“What?” Sirius asked, even more confused, and terrified that the inch of hope you’d created wasn’t real… What if he was dreaming of you again?

“I talked to Remus,” you said then. 

“Wait, you did? Are you convinced he's not into me, then?” 

“Godric, no! He definitely likes you.” 

“So then… why are you– you don’t seem angry about it.” 

“Yeah,” you choked a laugh, cheeks wet with some tears still, but stretching into a smile. “You see there’s one thing I hadn’t realised, one thing that was the key to solving this puzzle we’ve been dancing around for months, and I wish I hadn’t been as oblivious to it, we would have spared the three of us a heartache.” 

Sirius looked at you as you rambled, not sure he understood what you were going on about. It was like you discussing muggle books with Remus that he hadn’t read, he understood the words, but other than that it was like you were speaking a different language. 

“And I’ve always said I’ve been so good at reading people, I was embarrassingly stupid in interpreting my own feelings, to our feelings, that I allowed myself to wallow in my own self pity, and in my own little hole of darkness, too obscure to see the bigger picture and–” 

“Étoile, you’re rambling.” 

You shot your mouth and looked at him with an owlish gaze, you took a deep breath, thinking of how to break it up to him. “Sirius, when you think of me kissing anyone but you, what do you feel?” 

“Anyone but me?”  

“Imagine me kissing Peter.”

Sirius couldn’t quite hold back the sombering of his gaze. You had analysed everything that had happened since you met them, and you had a pretty good idea of what you were about to do, if things went awry though, you weren’t sure you’d be able to withstand the heartache that would ensue. 

“Why do you–” 

“What if it was James? Alex? Tom?” you pressed. Sirius gave you a sorrowful look now. Were you trying to tell him how upset you’d felt over the fact that he liked Remus? It was certainly working.

“Starshine, I–” 

“What if it was Marlene?” His expression was still dull, although rather curious, “Beth? Sybil? Evan?” 

He cringed at the last one, “I think I get what you–” 

“What about me kissing Remus?” His expression changed, you didn’t need to prickle into his mind to know what he was thinking. Although you had been tempted to try legilimency, deep down you knew it would be unfair. “I’ve done it before, remember? At Marlene’s party near the beginning of the year?” 

Sirius remembered it. Of course, he did, there was no way in hell he didn’t, you had been sitting on his lap while you made out with his best friend. That day he thought that might have been the hottest thing to ever happen in his life, but he assumed it was about seeing you kiss, and imagining himself in Remus’ place, rather than seeing the both of you kissing each other. He gulped. 

“Sirius, how would you feel if I kissed him?” 

He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t tell the truth, could he? Wouldn’t that upset you further? Make you feel like the entire relationship had been a lie?

“I mean–” he stuttered, “It would–”

“Sirius,” you said softly as you pressed your hand to his cheek. “I want you to be honest, above everything else. Does that sound fair?” He didn’t respond, he only gave you a pleading look. “We’ve lied to each other and ourselves enough.” 

That was like an arrow straight to the heart. Cupid, you traitorous beast, how could you do this to us? he thought as he tried to find his words again. His tongue felt stale inside his mouth, his lips were shut tight like a statue’s, it was as if he couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to.

“Would it upset you?” 

“No,” he mumbled, so low it was almost inaudible. “It wouldn’t.” 

You nodded, and then leaned your head to the side, searching for his downcast eyes before you said, “It wouldn’t upset me either… I mean, it wouldn’t upset me to see you kissing Remus.” 

“What do you mean–” 

“Remember that night I took a picture of the two of you cuddling each other? I always found it adorable.” 

“I was figuring out I liked him back then…” Sirius mumbled, and you smiled.

“Well, I was never jealous. I could never be jealous of Moony,” you explained. “The fact that he liked you and you liked him was not the reason I left.” 

“Then why–”

“Cause I thought I was causing the both of you pain by being in the middle, the obstacle that prevented the two of you from–” 

“You could NEVER be an obstacle!” he rushed out. 

“I know,” you reassured with a smile. “Do you want to know what the last piece of the puzzle was?” Sirius nodded, and you smiled. “Turns out Moony dear, did not only have a crush on you.” Sirius frowned at that, about to ask what you meant but you beat him to it. “He likes me too. He liked the both of us, from the very start.” 

“Moony what?!?” He asked, shocked. 

“And really, we should have seen it sooner, I mean Remus is good at keeping his secrets, but Moony with Padfoot and Vixen? He’s absolute trash at it, it was as obvious as a Sytherin trying to pass as a Gryffindor. We should have known!” 

“So you’re saying that…” 

“WE’RE ALL INTO EACH OTHER!”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Well, what just happened?

Read more Marauders Fiction

[eleancrvances]

just saw the new italian non-replica anastasiaaaaaa so here's some notes, the usual drill, ignore me. when i'll relisten i'll probably write some more thoughts on the new translations

at the end of the prologue the several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the winter palace fall on the nobles (very phantom-y), who are trying to hold the door closed while snowy wind slams it open

the abandoned palace was dark and dusty, closer to what it looks like in the cartoon, and i loved it

at the end of in my dreams the curtain hanging behind anya, dmitry and vlad briefly becomes transparent and we see the ghosts of the romanovs

one stanza of once upon a december is sung by young anastasia, as the older one is surrounded by the ghosts

her father is the last one to disappear, after kissing her on the forehead she almost chases him offstage

the effects for the train were lovely, they had the lights and smoke of the locomotive, and then a velarium styled like train car windows the characters could look out of came down. very very effective

while anya sings journey to the past, dmitry and vlad are seen through a velarium behind her, bickering until vlad looks actually hurt and looks down, a little sad. when she reaches the "family" part, dmitry gives him a little hug to cheer him up, and vlad gives him something to drink :')

when she repeats the verse and mentions "love", her and dmitry are both kneeling, on opposite sides of the velarium, and they turn towards each other, though not really seeing one another :')

in a crowd of thousands is sang while anya is getting dressed for the theater behind a screen, leaning out to deliver her parts, and dmitry is waiting for her. so when she realises she remembered seeing him she walks out in the blue dress, and that's when he drops to his knees

they removed most of the swan lake waltz from quartet at the ballet and i'm not super sure i liked that, but it does sound more haunting, ending with the once upon a december melody as the ballerina fouettes in the background

the whole romanov family slowly walked in when anya played the music box for her grandmother, and when she finally called out "anastasia", it was little anya who ran to hug her :')

they cut everything to win :((((

and the press conference :(

anya doesn't step on the suitcase to kiss dmitry at the end, he's still holding it and then drops it loudly when their lips collide. super cute

(separate and numerous gleb notes incoming because they really made him extremely unwell and unhinged. also brian boccuni has a wonderful voice)

gleb meets anya for the first time at the police station! their earlier meeting in the street is cut, as is the bit about her eyes. he turns, sees her for the first time and immediately goes deer in the headlights, and it's definitely meant to be read as him being immediately conflicted: both starstruck AND beginning to confusedly recognise her

when speaking about his father's death, he starts to properly cry (and calls him "papà", so "dad", a little more affectionate than "father"). then, at the mention of the tsar, he smashes a teacup to the ground (which made the little boy next to me jump in fear)

still is staged. well. with him taking his shirt off and whipping himself. very hellfire of him

at the beginning of neva flows reprise anya tries to run past him, so he throws her to the ground, grabs her and delivers the first verses right in her face. he comes veeery close to kissing her

and then, after "i think you are anastasia", he points the gun to his head. anya screams "no" and jumps to stop him. slowly, she makes him lower it, takes it from him and leaves it on the ground

she's the one who says "good luck, comrade" before leaving to get dmitry, leaving him to turn towards the door behind which the journalists are chanting anastasia's name

[worriedvision]

Do it /hj

So part 1 is here, Heizou is having his redemption arc through Kazuha flopping lol! Gender neutral reader

--

Heizou woke up that morning to a strange invitation. Attached to the paper was this small sticker, a cute looking mascot to him. He opens the letter, not at all worried about it being a threat, and the contents of the letter describe a cluster of islands that were filled to the brim with puzzles. All he had to do was say yes.

That confused Heizou, until he realised the letter meant literally saying 'yes' out loud. He knew that he could take his time with cases, his intuition always carrying him easily to the answer. If this was a joke someone was pulling, he could easily go along with the joke.

But if it wasn't a joke? The nature of this letter was curious enough to catch Heizou's attention. Without dawning on it for too long, he says the magic word. Before he can look to see if anyone jumped out to laugh at him, however, he passes out.

Heizou wakes up on a bare island, oddly flat. Rubbing his eyes, he looks out to see the neighbouring islands that seemed much more extravagant. he was excited to get a feel of each of the islands, and even this seemingly plain canvas of an island he had woke up on intrigued him.

Of all islands, this was the one that was lacking severely. Walking around the island, he gets a hunch that he should investigate the middle. A single glimmer shines, and Heizou walks over, curious as he kneels down to investigate.

--

How did this happen to you?

You had decided to board a small boat, hoping to find some sort of exit that was unknown to the others. Next thing you know, you get sucked into the ocean. You don't have the chance to scream, nor to process it, falling for several seconds before landing in a comfortable bush. Opening your eyes, you look around to see the familiar environment of the outdoors. Surrounding you, is equipment you worked with on a daily basis.

Ah, so this was likely yours.

"I like working with the outdoors!" You hear your voice say, gleeful. "I applied for this position so I could do it full time while being responsible."

This was your interview, you recall quickly. Before you can dwell on how short the interview was, the interviewer clearly only interviewing you out of the legal requirement before giving you the job. Turning around the corner of a tree, you meet eyes with your first friend.

"Hey, we're gonna go for a karaoke night! Wanna come?" They smile. After a moment, they seem to pause. "Oh, I forgot you don't like singing. Sorry." They let out.

You shake your head, reassuring them that it wasn't a problem, that you could still come along and watch. You follow them into a bar, where your other friends were.

The scene reminds you of that night. The night your friend had pulled you aside, saying that they felt like they were growing too distant from you. No common interests, you just both happened to be newcomers to the area. Unlike you, the adapted quickly to the change, making many friends.

You, however, struggled. You found that the people you did attract were talented in ways you were never. Singers, painters, poets, you name it. Your job led them to the idea that you were also an artist, but after attempting to sing, people found out you were a terrible singer.

You leave the tavern before you can relive the humiliating experience, but you feel like you've been watched.

The next vision you have is the first interaction with Kazuha. He was sitting in the distance, blowing on a leaf and smiling softly to himself. He looks over a second after, and the way he smiles at you caught you again. He waves you over, and you walk over. You knew it was stupid, but you wanted to at least relive the happy days of you and Kazuha being an item. Neither of you say anything, and before you know it, Kazuha had walked away.

When you get up to follow him, you meet eyes with an unfamiliar man. Freezing up, you try to figure out if he was a threat. He gives a cheeky smile, a hand on his hip as he waits for you to ask the obvious question.

"Who are you?" You ask, furrowing your brows.

"Detective Heizou., at your service." He responds, pulling out a diary that you recognised to be the one you kept. Your eyes widen out of horror, and you reach out to take it from him. The last thing you needed was for him to find out how pathetically sour your writing was.

"I've already read through all of this, I'm afraid." Heizou laughs lightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He smiles, extending a hand. You reluctantly shake it, and he gestures for you to walk with him.

--

When Kazuha met Mona, you started to feel somewhat jealous.

Mona was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt about that. The way she gracefully carried herself, using her scrying glass. You brushed it off, knowing Kazuha loved you. He always reassured you there was more to life than the arts, and he liked you because you were great when it comes to understanding the outdoors. In the past, the two of you worked so well, yourself enjoying Kazuha's poetry and him appreciating your feedback on his cooking.

But then Mona happened.

Throughout the entire time you were there, you realised Kazuha gravitated towards Mona. Xinyan was an absolute sweetheart, trying her best to make you feel included, but that didn't do anything to help the growing jealousy you felt. When Kazuha had seen that crow flirting with Mona, you saw a look you never saw before in his eyes - jealousy.

Occasionally, you had been on the receiving end of flirtatious comments, but Kazuha had never been one to have that raw look of jealousy he had when Mona got that flirty comment.

Heizou looks at you, clearly curious. He had read all of your diary, but this was not documented which brought him to the belief this was new.

You were thoroughly embarassed that this stranger had been watching your less than happy love life. As much as you wanted to just stop advancing ahead, you knew there was only one way out of this place. Jumping into the boat with Kazuha, yourself and Heizou give each other a look.

--

The break up plays out in front of you, and you feel humiliated.

Watching it from the outside, you realised just how out of love Kazuha had been. The way he looked at Mona reassuringly whenever you weren't looking. The way his eyes no longer glistened with love, it was all too much for you.

"I guess this is it." You hear yourself woefully let out, tearing up.

You can't even listen to the entire conversation, seemingly overwhelmed with emotions. You watch as Kazuha walked away after the conversation, not looking back once and clearly unfazed.

The silence deafens you, and you look over to see Heizou, his eyes meeting yours as you tear up, lip quivering before he pulls you in. He rubs your back, soothing you to the best of his ability. He looks over, seeing another boat spawn in, and he decides to steer the boat himself, you being the passenger this time.

---

When Kazuha tells the others you had to head back to work, Everyone immediately asks him why you had to leave so suddenly. He brushes it off, explaining that you wanted him to stay while you went back to work. While almost everyone shrugged it off, Mona immediately had a bad feeling about this. After the meal was finished and everyone went their separate ways, Kazuha asks to speak to Mona. She gladly accepts, knowing this was going to explain more details on why you were away.

Her jaw drops when Kazuha admits his feelings for Mona.

"So you broke up with your ex, not even an hour ago, and you decide to start to court me?" She gasps out of horror. Kazuha furrows his brows, clearly confused as to why Mona had reacted like this. "And this sounds like you broke up with them solely to ask me out." She continues, eyes widening when Kazuha continues to stay silent.

Kazuha still has nothing to say, surprised that Mona hadn't accepted his feelings.

"Where did they go?" Mona asks, pulling out her scrying glass to start looking for you. Kazuha explains that he didn't know where you went, leaving you alone before you could start your journey home.

Mona gets an answer, seeing your boat submerged in the middle of nowhere. She frantically rushes to summon a boat before Kazuha can ask what she saw, and he narrowly escapes missing her boat when she kickstarts it.

--

Heizou reaches the island, and he feels something in the air change. Getting out of the boat, he holds you supportively as he gets out.

The island has changed. A tent made up, sleeping bag and an unlit campfire to accompany the hills that emerged from the land. Heizou finds it to be a welcome sight, a place for the both of you to relax and get to know each other better. Instead of going straight to the sleeping bag, however, Heizou finds the comfort of a blossoming tree to be more ideal, a comforting place for the both of you to relax. He lays down, you instinctively curl into him when he lays down successfully.

When your eyes fully close, Heizou looks up to see a boat speeding towards the island. He shakes his head, knowing that one of your travelling buddies must have been thoroughly concerned. He decides to let you rest, hoping that it wasn't Kazuha who was operating the boat.

Mona emerges, and he realises quickly that she figured out quickly that Kazuha had broken up with you. He had a feeling that Kazuha was in the boat based on how she glared back at him when he tries to stop her from getting out so hastily, and she runs over.

"Are they alright?" Mona asks quietly, not wanting to wake you up.

The boat starts to steer back, and Heizou had an idea that the person operating the boat was Kazuha. Heizou nods, and Mona sighs out of relief.

"Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself." Mona starts. "I am-"

"Mona Megistus, the great astrologist?" Heizou asks, Mona looking surprised when he correctly recalled her name. "Shikanoin Heizou." Heizou strokes the top of your head to sooth you into a blissful sleep.

"It's a long story."

[blu-joons]

Late Night Call ~ Park Jimin

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered as he hung up the phone, turning back to the boys in the recording booth with a twang in his heart.

When Jimin told you that he was busy for the evening, your heart sunk as your eyes began to water once again. At the end of a long day, there was only one thing that you needed, but unfortunately Jimin was busy, and you were left alone.

You understood better than most how busy he was, late nights were a part of the parcel of being a singer, and despite having a tough day yourself, you knew just how much pressure he was under every single to make sure that he delivered.

Delivery had been where you had failed, after yet another scolding from your boss over a failed order, you felt stranded in your office. Very few people knew the hardships you were going through, only Jimin, but sadly for you, he was facing his own.

You’d lost all track of time as you spent the rest of your evening on the sofa, a Netflix suggestion playing in the background as the soundtrack of your worries. You could think of nothing else but the turmoil you’d face at work the following day as you tried to deliver once again.

It was only when a gentle knock hit against you front door, did you finally acknowledge just how late it was. As you saw that it had just passed two, your eyes widened in horror, pulling yourself up off the sofa to see who was at the door.

The walk was cold and dark, but eventually you managed to find where you had put your key, opening up the door only to come face to face with the last person that you expected to see, admiring the smile that they wore excitedly on their face.

“It’s not too late, is it?” Jimin chuckled, instantly stepping forwards as a tear ran down your cheek quickly.

His arms wrapped around you as he invited himself in, kicking your front door shut with the back of his foot. The two of you stayed in the entryway to your home for several minutes, as your tears dampened the sleeve of Jimin’s shirt.

“I didn’t realise things had gotten this bad at work,” he whispered into your ear, brushing his hand over the top of your head. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come and be here earlier, it’s just been so busy with work, and getting this song organised has been a bit of a nightmare.”

“You need to rest,” you whimpered as you pulled away from Jimin, studying his tired eyes. “It’s two in the morning, and you’ve got to go back again early in the morning. You shouldn’t be here Jimin, you need to look after yourself more.”

His head shook immediately, he could tell by the sound of your voice on the phone that something was wrong, and for however much or little time he had spare to be with you, he was going to make sure he was there.

“I’ve got three hours, and I’m all yours,” he smiled across at you, wiping his thumbs underneath your eyes, “we can stay up and talk, or maybe head to bed for a bit, you look as if you haven’t slept for even a wink so far this evening too.”

“I can’t think about anything else but work,” you dejectedly admitted, “every time I try and close my eyes, I just replay the scene of being in the boss’ office earlier today.”

“I always thought that guy was a bit of a loser anyway, but even more so now.”

“But he pays me,” you frowned, allowing Jimin to take your hand and lead you into the living room, “I feel like I’m stuck, I’ve got no other choice but to continue to deal with him.”

For some time Jimin had known that your boss had been placing plenty of work on you, with little reward. There had been many evenings when you’d come home snowed under, and dealt with it, but today was the final straw for your patience to wear out.

Knowing that you’d be overthinking anything, Jimin knew he couldn’t leave you alone. As soon as Namjoon suggested calling it a night, there was no other place that Jimin thought to be other than in your apartment and taking care of you.

“You can’t let him get to you,” he frowned, taking a seat on your sofa and pulling you tightly into his side, “or you could just quit, I keep telling you that I’d support you until you found something new.”

“Working there is all I’ve ever known, leaving terrifies me,” you murmured.

“I know it’s daunting, but sometimes new can be good, especially if it stops you getting as upset as this, I don’t want to see you sad,” Jimin comforted.

Your head nodded as a gentle kiss was placed against the top of your head. “I don’t want to dampen things by just talking about me, how’s everything going with you, at work? You must be pretty busy too to be working as late as this.”

“Have you ever heard the saying too many cooks in the kitchen? I think there’s about fifty people too many trying to stick their noses in on this album,” Jimin offloaded, “somehow it seems the seven of us are the last people that get to have their opinions listened to.”

“But you’re the ones singing the songs,” you frowned as Jimin’s head nodded in agreement. “Maybe it seems we both need to have a word with our bosses and stop ourselves being treated this way, otherwise we’ll be wide at two in the morning a little more often.”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” he smiled, pulling you in a little closer, “tomorrow, or today now, could be a fresh start for the both of us. I’ve got to go at five, but maybe we could stay up for a while and brainstorm how we’re going to make ourselves feel better?”

Your head nodded at his idea, reaching behind you to the back of the sofa, yanking down one of the blankets you had draped along it, tucking it around the two of you as you settled in for a long night of planning together. “This wasn’t quite how I had foreshadowed my evening going when you told me that you couldn’t come over.”

Jimin’s smile widened as he made sure to tuck the blanket around you to stop you getting cold from the early morning breeze. With his arm firmly around your waist, he rolled onto his back so that the two of you could look at one another comfortably.

“I just knew when I heard you on the phone that I had to do everything in my power to see you,” he responded, “even if it was just for five minutes.”

“Three hours is enough, it’s more than enough, you didn’t have to be here.”

His head shook as he kissed softly against your forehead, “I did have to be here, for all of the times that you’ve been here for me, it’s about time that I repaid the favour and made sure that I was here for you when you needed me too.”

You smiled appreciatively up at him, “you’ve dug me out of a big hole tonight Jimin, I hope you realise how much you being here means.”

“Of course,” he laughed, “now, where shall we start? We’ve got three hours to put things right.”

“Three hours is plenty, don’t you worry.”

---

Masterlist

[band--psycho]

Harvey Specter x Reader-Not A Disaster After All

(Credit to the gif owner)

Other Character Masterlist

Today was the day. The day of my first date in almost three years, to say I was nervous was an understatement; not just because it was my first date in so long but also because the date was with the one of the most famous lawyers in the city, the one and only Harvey Specter. After several outfit changes I finally settled on wearing a black, spaghetti strap jumpsuit accompanied with matching black stiletto high heel ankle boots. I glanced at the clock on the other side of the room, feeling a mixture of emotions as the time grew ever closer. I hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time but likewise I hadn’t felt more excited to go on a date with someone, not since I dated Nathan, Y/d/n father. In all honesty, since he died I hadn’t really gone on many dates, if any really. I tried the dating apps a few years after his death but there just wasn’t anyone on there that I liked that way. Harvey was the first person I’d even liked since Nathan and although part of me felt guilty about it, I knew he’d want me to be happy and Harvey was a good guy, I felt safe with him. 

“So..whaddya think?” I asked in a sing-song voice as I turned the corner, revealing my outfit for my date tonight to my best friend, Emma.

“You look absolutely gorgeous babe!” she practically squealed, causing Y/d/n to pull her eyes away from the tv screen. 

“You ‘ook reawy pwetty, mummy,” Y/d/n beamed as she was waddled over to me, a wide smile on her face and a look of awe in her eyes.Thinking about it, this was probably one of the only times  she’s seen me all dressed up just like this, normally I’d just be wearing my ripped skinny jeans and a tshirt. 

“Thank you baby,” I whispered, bending down to pick her up. 

“Now, I need you to be good for Auntie Em whilst I’m out, okay?” I asked her, brushing away some of the stray locks of hair out of her face. 

“Otay,” Y/d/n agreed, placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her actions as I placed her back on the floor, within seconds she’d waddled back over to the tv and was sat infront of it completely engrossed in her favourite show once again. 

“C’mon then you, you’ve got a date to go to,” Emma chuckled, lightly pushing me towards the door. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I chuckled, putting my leather jacket on, taking a deep breath before I opened the door. 

“If there are any issues-” I began, quickly turning back to Emma just rolled her eyes and said, “I will call you, Y/n/n, now go otherwise you’re gonna be late.” So with that I left and got into the taxi, the closer I got to the restaurant the quicker I could feel my heart beating away in my chest. Part of me wanted nothing more than to ask the taxi driver to take me home, absolutely terrified that I was somehow going to mess this date up. But then I saw him. Mr Harvey Specter standing outside the restaurant patiently waiting for me. I took a deep breath as I opened the taxi door and made my way over to him. 

“Y/n/n,” Harvey greeted with the very same charismatic smile I first fell for. 

“Mr Specter,” I replied, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as his eyes locked onto mine. 

“Call me Harvey,” he chuckled, lightly placing his hand on the lower part of my back, leading me into the restaurant. There was no turning back now. This date was happening...and it was either going to be the best night of my life or...or I was just never going to date again. 

~~~~~~~

I’d always heard about how charming Harvey Specter was but I never expected this. He was...he was amazing. I felt like I’d known him for years, the two of us were just swapping stories about our lives, our hobbies, just anything and everything..once we got talking it’s like we couldn’t stop. There was no awkward silence, or nerves about what to say, it was just natural. I hadn’t even realised how much time had passed until my phone rang; at first I was just going to ignore it but when I saw Emma's name flash up in the called ID I felt my heart stop, terrified that something was wrong with Y/d/n.  

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this,” I apologised, rushing over to a quieter part of the restaurant to answer my phone. 

“Em, what’s happened? Is Y/d/n okay?” I asked, a worrying tone now lacing my voice. 

“Don’t panic, Y/n/n, but Y/d/n’s been sick, you don’t need to worry I can take care of-”

“I’m on my way home,” I interrupted before hanging up the call and quickly making my way back over to Harvey. 

“Harvey, I hate to do this but I’ve really got to go, it’s my daughter she’s not well,” I explained, grabbing my jacket from the chair. 

“I can uh...I can forward you the money if you send me your details,” I quickly added, not really having the time to work out exactly how much I was going to owe him for this dinner. 

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Harvey replied with a smile, handing over the money to a nearby waiter. I wanted to argue with him about it, but I couldn’t, not now. Right now all I wanted to do was go home and look after Y/d/n. I smiled politely at Harvey and rushed outside, attempting (and failing) to get a taxi. I sighed in frustration, running a hand through my hair, placing a hand on a nearby wall in an attempt to steady myself as I took my heels off accepting that I was going to have to walk (more like run) home. 

“Y/n/n? What’re you doing?” Harvey asked, his voice catching me off guard entirely. 

“I’ve gotta go home but apparently all the taxis wanna ignore me, so I’m gonna have to walk,” I explained in a harsher tone than I expected. 

“My cars gonna be here in five minutes, I’ll take you home,” 

“Harvey, that’s a really nice offer but-” I attempted to argue only to be interrupted by Harveys words, “But nothing, I’m not about to let you walk home this late at night, besides the quicker we get to Yd/n the better right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he held out his hand for me to take. I didn’t want to take advantage of him...but I couldn’t deny this offer, so I slipped my heels back on and took his hand, both of us waiting patiently for his car to arrive.  

~~~~~~~~

“Thank you so much for this Harvey, I really appreciate it,” I said, practically bolting out of the car before he could say anything back. I didn’t even know Harvey had followed me to the door until I saw the shocked expression on Emma's face when she answered the door. 

“Harvey-” 

“I wanna help,” He offered, a small and reassuring smile coming upon his lips. I nodded back, smiling at him before rushing into the house and heading to Y/d/ns bedroom. When I saw Y/d/n, I felt my heart ache, her usual rose tinted cheeks were pale and tears cascaded from her now bloodshot eyes. 

“Mummy,” She sniffled when she saw me, “I don’ feel good,”

“It’s okay baby, I’m here,” I cooed, stroking her hair soothingly as I sat next to her on the bed. 

~~~~~~

Ten minutes after I got back, Emma left, leaving me and Harvey to take care of Y/d/n. Harvey was amazing. There was no other word I could use to describe how great he was at looking after Y/d/n; all I did was stay in bed with her, stroking her hair and giving her all the cuddles I possibly could while Harvey did everything else, he would got her water and a little wet flannel to bring her slight fever down and then on top of that he read to her. Not once. Not twice. But at least five times as much as I hated to admit it, he was a lot better at doing the voices than I was and I could see Y/d/n was enjoying it and it was definitely helping to calm her down. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but eventually Y/d/n fell asleep; I carefully moved my arms away from her and moved off the bed. 

Thank you, for everything you’ve done tonight,” I began, my voice barely above as a whisper to, as we quietly left the room, making our way back downstairs. 

“It was a pleasure,” Harvey reassured with a comforting smile on his face. A short silence filled the air as he grabbed his suit jacket and made his way to the door.

“I know tonight has been a disaster-,” I began only to be interrupted by Harveys chuckle.

“I got to spend the evening with you, I call that a success,” He said , wrapping his arms around my waist, a comforting smile on his face. I don’t know what came over me, but at that moment all I wanted to do was kiss him. So that's exactly what I did. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and closed the distance between our lips. Instantly, Harvey reciprocated my action, his hands slowly moving up my body to my face, caressing my cheeks as he deepened the kiss. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He whispered against my lips, pecking them one last time before opening the door and making his way over to the car, just before he got in he winked at me, that charismatic smile coming onto his face again. Then he vanished off into the distance. Maybe tonight wasn’t a disaster after all...maybe it was the beginning of something really special.

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[nobodyfindthisacc]

Slides and Monkey bars

Sana x reader

Fluff

Request~ “can you please do the prompt: only time can tell, with g/n reader x sana (twice) please make it angst but with happy ending im a sucker for sappy endings 😭”

Word count~ 1.2k words

A/N~ didn’t turn out as angsty, so i hope you still like it :))

There she is, dancing and singing on stage in front of millions of fans. Even with a single wink, she manages to capture thousands’ heart. You aren’t an exception either, you’ve never been. And maybe that’s why it hurts, knowing you’ve been there for her since before debut, yet you had no chance in winning her like she did with you.

You wish you could leave. You wish you had the heart to ghost her, for the sake of your heart. Yet here you are, standing helplessly at the backstage with flowers in hand, awaiting for her to jump into your arm per usual. And she does. Pumpkin orange hair fills you vision, as the idol hug your waist tightly.

“Wow there m’lady. Be careful, you could’ve made us fall and crush these beautiful flowers i brought for you.” You say with a hand on her shoulder. “Haven’t you already fallen for me? And these flowers aren’t as enchanting as you are” she flirts with you like she always does, but you knew better than that. “Sana” the smirk on Sana’s face fades away, along with her hands around you. “You have to stop flirting, I’m fine with your affection but now it just feels like your leading me on.” You say with a somber smile.

“no no, I didn’t mean to lead you on! Im sor-“ Sana’s frantically waving her hands, in order to make sure she doesn’t hurt you. She might not be your lover, be she’s definitely your friend. “I know, you didn’t mean to. Don’t worry.” You cut her off and give her a cheeky smile in hopes to cheer her up.

The air after that is a bit awkward. With Sana being self conscious with everything she does and says to me. She’s a really nice friend at least. You guys go off for a walk while the rest of her group goes back to their dorms. The car ride’s not as awkward as before as she starts loosening up again, singing to the songs on the radio with casual humming from you.

Once you arrive at the park, sana gets off whilst rubbing her hands because of the chill breeze going through the sky in autumn night. You offer your hand, to which she takes. While strolling through the park, you encounter a playground, far too familiar for both of you.

“Hey it’s that playground we played in back in high school!” With that she goes of to the said playground, climbing up a slide. You chuckle at the girl as she slides down the toy. “Aren’t you a little to old for that miss?” You tease only for the later to pull your arm to another part of the playground. “Oh stop it. Just because we’re older, doesn’t mean we can’t play with it too.”

You end up in front of a monkey bar. A particularly tall one at that. “Can the master still go through the highest bar? Or are they now a drowned out used been?” You let out another laugh as she challenges you with hands crossing her chest. “You really want me to climb a monkey bar for children?” You insult the toy, “hey it’s still taller than both of us” her rebuttal made you narrow your eyes towards the figure in front of you, with a smirk displaying on your face.

“I need more convincing.” Sana looks at you puzzlingly as she thinks of a way to convince you to have some fun. Only deciding to be mysterious. “You’ll get a reward!” “From who? You?” You ask, pretty intrigued. “Of course me! Who else?” She proclaims slightly offended by the lack of belief. “Ok, i just thought you were gonna have jyp transfer some money into my pocket.” “Hey!” She pouts at your tease. “So what is it? The reward?” You ask one more time, only to be met with a grin from the other. “You’d have to do it first.”

You end up doing it. You were gonna do it, even without the reward, it was just fun teasing sana. But the reward was a bonus. She’s probably gonna buy you some drink from the soda machine near the playground. Your hands are starting to feel a tad burn from all friction the bars gave, and you are definitely bad at swinging compared to when you were called the “master of monkey bars” but you held on finishing it for a free soda, but mostly because of pride. With an arm reaching for the last bar, you finish of with a jump.

As childish as it sounds, you’re ecstatic at the accomplishment. Maybe it’s the feeling of still having a little part of yourself way back in your younger days, maybe it’s just because you like proving to others you can do it, or maybe it’s just because of the reward. You continue to jump to Sana in happy fit. “Ta-da!” You do jazz hands in order to show off to the later. “The master still got it.” You exclaim, now panting after several jumps of high, resting your hand on your hips.

Sana didn’t know what she feels right now. But seeing you jump in joy to her reminds her of a puppy running to its owner after catching a ball. It’s unbelievably cute. She just wanted to keep you in her pocket. She wants a lot of things right now, actually. But she couldn’t put in words. “Sana?” So she ends up doing something on autopilot.

She kisses you.

You pull away in surprise. Why did she kiss you? She rejected you didn’t she? She didn’t like you right? Not in that way right? Is she purposely leading you on? Questions fills your mind as you look at her questioningly and with caution.

Meanwhile, Sana backs away in fear. What’d she do? Why did she do that? She isn’t romantically interested in you, right? God, do you hate her now? Are you going to leave her? She looks shook by her own action. Thus why you’re the one to cut the silence.

“Sana, what was that?” You as curiously, you didn’t voice any anger for that’d make things worse. And you’re truly more curious than anything. “I-I don’t know.” She stutters. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I know. I just, I just did it on instinct? I don’t know, I just did it without thinking and I’m so sor-“ she rambles on and on, not even realising her feelings spilling out.

“Sana, stop for a bit. Breathe in and breathe out. Your starting to shake.” You stop yet again, now going closer to the later, putting both hands on her shoulders. With your instructions, she starts to calm down from all the fear of you leaving. You wouldn’t, she assures herself.

After a moment of silence, you ask her the most important question of your relationship, the one sana dreads the most. “Do you like me Sana?” She didn’t know. She’s unsure of herself. She’s afraid of ruining things. Things like your relationship, things like the public’s opinion, things like her friends and family’s opinion. But ultimately, she figures to admit the truth. “I think I do”

Letting go of her shoulders, you both stand there in silence. Until you ask again, “Do I have a chance?” A whisper of hope is let out, as the crickets chirp in the background. Not like you guys would ever acknowledge it, too immersed in each others’ eyes and warmth.

“I don’t know yet.” A helpless cry responds to the question. Confusion, love, and disappointment swim in her eyes. She didn’t know. So your hand reaches out for hers, intertwining them. “It’s fine, i can wait.”

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Cardinal Catastrophe

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Elain reaches out to Azriel after that dreaded Solstice night and they once again meet under the moonlight in the River House - but everything is different now (post ACOSF, Azriel’s the focalizer) 

Pairings: Azriel x Elain, Elriel

Word Count: 13,300+

Warnings: This does get a bit smutty and then there’s some violence towards the end.

A/N: This is like super long. It basically has everything it’s fluff, smut and angst so yeah, something for everyone. This is probably the longest oneshot I’ve ever written, I don’t know where this has come from but it’s taken me way longer to write than any of my other stuff. There’s a lot of catharsis in this and reflection on how I think both Azriel and Elain think of the situation. You’ll also get a bit of Rhys’ pov towards the ned ;)

Preview: With Elain’s eyes closed he allowed himself to greedily devour the sight of her. Just her face alone captured his attention entirely. With his eyes he memorised the curve of her cheekbones, the specific angle of her brows, even the exact chocolatey shade of her lashes. He went over it again, and again, and again, like a worshipper devouring the holy text. Azriel needed the perfection of Elain committed to memory, because he was sure that one day his luck would run out entirely. That soon he would not be permitted to even these meetings in the dead of night, with only a thousand stars as witness to their mutilated fate.

“Elain...” He tried again; his voice softer than he had ever heard it before. The person he became around Elain was foreign to himself. He had never been someone privileged enough to both love and be loved, not like this. Now that he had tasted such passions, he found he could not always recognise himself. Because he was Azriel, and he was cursed and damned, destined to be alone, to be unloved, mutilated both in mind and morality. He could not love; he shouldn’t be able to love - and yet.

MASTERLIST

It was no exaggeration to say that Azriel’s work was of a most gruesome nature. His daily routine involved cutting into people, making them sing to his shadows, working them like a carcass in a machine until they’d spilt their guts to him before painting the walls with those same organs. As the Night Court’s spymaster, Azriel knew things that would bring kings to their knees, secrets that were interwoven into the foundations of courts, hidden information that would dissolve alliances in seconds; and yet, here he was, pacing the room like a schoolboy as he tried to swallow the fluttery ‘butterfly-like’ feeling twisting his gut.

He’d noticed the note the minute he’d entered the room. A tiny slip of paper that glowed in the moonlight from where it was perched on his work desk, a stark contrast to Azriel’s messy, tea-stained paperwork. Azriel had smelt her on it before he read it, in fact, the second he opened the door to his River House bedroom he was surrounded by her faded aroma. She must’ve breezed in and out, not wanting to overstep her bounds as she left him a note no one else was to read. Knowing her, she was probably currently riddled with guilt for entering his private space, even though, quite frankly, Azriel wouldn’t mind her invading on every aspect of his life, personal or not. Not wanting to face what her scent in his room did to him, he’d crossed the room in three strides and devoured the note in seconds; the words still rang in his head.

I need to see you.

Everything had been fine. Ever since Rhysand’s outrageous demand of Azriel several months prior, Azriel had fallen into a routine, stricter than the last, for ignoring Elain Archeron. He was working more than he ever had before, not just in quantity but in quality. Unnecessarily detailed reports were showing up on the High Lord’s desk of situations that were entirely irrelevant to the current political climate and yet, Azriel thought it was only fair Rhysand suffered somewhat from this situation too.

I’m sorry for everything.

While he was anywhere but Velaris, Elain was never anywhere else, specifically in the River House, a place he had thus far avoided with painful success. Until his High Lady had demanded he come to dinner to celebrate Nesta’s birthday, Nesta who was happier than he had ever seen her before, practically glowing with the dreaded mating bond. It still baffled him how much prevalence mating bonds had played in his life the past few years after 500 years of silence, strings of fate which seemed to only bring about the greatest happiness or the wickedest pain.

I just want to make things right.

They were so happy, all of them. Rhysand with Feyre and Nyx, Nesta and Cassian - and though he just wanted to be glad for his family, the miasma of their bliss was suffocating. Because Azriel had never felt more alone, had never been so buried in his work, so achingly tired from the unnecessary flights and dreary missions, and his harmful behaviour was turning his body into something foreign. Azriel never used to have the constant tautness across his shoulders, nor the constant black shadows under his eyes from the sleepless nights, or the aching muscles that never seemed to heal. But it was necessary – if he wanted to obey Rhysand’s order, if he wanted to maintain civility between courts, and for a plethora of other supposed noble reasons – it was necessary.

I miss you.

He just wanted her. Not in any possessive way, he just wanted to be around her. He’d come to find a specific kind of peace in her company, something about that soothed his worries and aches. So, he missed their walks in the gardens, their shared book recommendations, their inside jokes, their unspoken understanding, their healing. And above all he missed her: her smile, her laughter, the shade of her flushed cheeks, her kindness, her silence.

Azriel hadn’t realised what had been happening to him as they had gotten closer, hadn’t realised how far he’d fallen till Rhysand had pulled him out of the air. Now all that was there, was a lacking. He was busier than ever, but all around him hung the privation of her.

Meet me in the foyer when the sun sets.

So he couldn’t be around his family, couldn’t face their overwhelming joy when he was so, so alone. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had never met Elain, or at least if he hadn’t allowed himself to fall for her. But in those soft moments he shared with her, the brushes of fingertips to the sun-kissed smiles, he’d been forced to face just how alone he was, how alone he had always been. Through Elain, Azriel had had a taste of honest, unwavering love - and yet he was expected to turn his back on such a discovery, by his own family no less.

Please.

He would meet her in the foyer when the sun set. He would follow her to the ends of the Earth if she asked him to, because maybe he was just so masochistic that he didn’t mind meeting Elain only to be reminded of everything he couldn’t have. Reading the note Azriel couldn’t help but think bitterly of how the flower-grower was far more courageous than he. That she was reaching out to him after he had rejected her so brutally. Azriel jolted, flaring his wings slightly to stop the train of thought. That pained, confused look in Elain’s eye when he had said that word, haunted him. Mistake. He’d called it a mistake. Azriel raked his hands down his face and sighed.

He wished he were strong enough to either commit or drop it entirely. He wished he had it in him to do something. Azriel should’ve bitten back at Rhysand all those months ago, should’ve just dealt with this catastrophe back then rather than let it fester and rot under the proverbial carpet.

As time passed in Azriel’s knotted thoughts, the sun plummeted towards the horizon. It was a perfect summers evening, and Azriel stilled at the window to watch as the sun melted the sky into shades of pink and purple. He saw it and thought of the colour of her dress tonight, or even that dress she had worn when she’d made traditional Illyrian biscuits and demanded he tried one. He’d taken it in his pocket and only took a bite when he was alone in the shadows of a different court, and he had savoured every bite, quietly smothering his growing adoration as he did so.

Elain, Elain, Elain. His shadows whispered to him, as though they knew they would soon be in her presence. No one had ever had such an effect on his shadows, and around her he was more aware of them being a separate entity to himself. Though they were bound, around Elain they seemed to grow more confident, they acted of their own accord and would often disappear in her presence, as though his shadows knew he wished to be entirely alone with her.

Foyer...Elain...flower-grower...beautiful. Azriel was inclined to agree. And before Azriel could lose himself to shyness, the sun finally dipped behind the curve of the land, allowing a thousand glimmering stars to prickle through the endless black sky.

She would already be waiting for him, and though Azriel was nervous, he had to restrain some part of himself that longed to throw open the door and jump down the stairs two at a time. Instead, he used the shadows, stepping through them to the base of the large foyer staircase. It would be more silent this way. He wouldn’t make the same mistake of not listening to the corridors as they spoke. For Elain’s sake, he would demand the utmost privacy, even from his High Lord and Lady.

He could see her before she saw him. She was leaning of the Foyer’s centre table, fiddling with the bouquet of flowers in a glass vase - of course she was. All he could see of her was the lower half of her pale gown and her dark golden hair, cascading down her back like a waterfall. The moonlight streaming in through the large French windows gave her an angelic glow, whereas the more sensuous light of the flickering candles painted shadows across her thinly veiled curves. Both warm and cold light coming together to worship the woman who seemed to him as light herself. At the sight of her, Azriel involuntarily sucked in a breath and felt her scent hit the back of his throat, his entire body seemed to sing from her aroma alone, as though it were his own personal drug. Dangerous, this was dangerous, to be with her and to be so alone. He didn’t care.

“Elain,” she didn’t start as he spoke into the thick silence. If she had the confidence to call him here tonight, then he must source some of his own. He at least owed her that. Delicately, Elain turned and looked over her shoulder, her beautiful brown eyes finding his and melting the whole world away.

“You came,” She breathed, her shoulders sagging slightly out of relief. She turned to him properly then, and Azriel flickered his eyes over her so quickly she might’ve mistaken it for a mere blink. But he saw her, saw what she was wearing, and some core part of his soul longed to weep at the sight of her beauty.

Elain was in a nightgown, off-white cotton and silk, with cream and dusty pink lace. Pale ribbons pulled the nightdress around her breasts and down to her naval, dipping in a slight ‘v’ before the skirts flowed around her natural curves and then dropped to the floor. The neckline was agonisingly flattering, though Azriel was sure he wouldn’t look twice at the nightdress on anyone else. Her creamy skin seemed browner in the warm candlelight of the house, and as the shadows flickered, he was aware of how her collarbones stretched out to the curve of her shoulders, how she didn’t have freckles on her chest and arms but rather a specific constellation of moles, even how her hair was impossibly thick and, if memory served him well, soft too. Upper sections were pulled away from her face in an intricate pattern of braids and ties, and yet lock after lock of pale brown hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, framing her angelic face. Oh, that face. Poets and painters alike would weep at the sight of that face. The small, angled eyebrows that somehow made her doe eyes bigger, the freckles across her cheeks and nose, her plush lips-

“I know that you’re avoiding me,” she began, crashing Azriel back into reality. He shifted slightly, ruffling his wings as though to wake himself up. Her voice wasn’t accusing, but calm and quiet, “I know there’s a reason why you’re never around. For a while I thought you were just cooped up at the House of Wind but Nesta says that she never sees you...no one ever sees you anymore.” Azriel stayed quiet, just holding her gaze. He never needed to speak around Elain, she had quickly understood that when he had something to say, he would say it, but till then, he was comforted by the silence. And so she continued, more nervous now.

“I don’t want to be...narcissistic...but it seems to me that you’ve been distancing yourself with everyone after what happened on Solstice and...” She shifted uncomfortably, her confidence running out as she looked down at the floor and wrung her hands. “I can’t take it. I can’t take being the person whose pushed you away and I...I think we need to talk about it - or not talk about it - I’m not sure. I just, I don’t want you to avoid me anymore, even if that means we pretend that it never happened, that’s fine. I just...”

He could tell her right now the exact reason why he couldn’t be around her. Elain, he would say, I would do anything to be around you. I would kill a thousand men just to have the privilege of your company. But I can’t, Elain. Because when I’m around you, everything turns inside out, I forget everything I’m supposed to be afraid of. I become this person around you Elain, I become someone who I’ve always wanted to be, and I don’t know how to be him, if I even can. I’m not used to this, to wanting something so viscerally it feels as though I might fall apart every day I don’t see you. Elain, I don’t know how to choose happiness, I don’t know how to be selfish in that way, and above all...I don’t know how to fix this.

“I don’t care if you don’t want me like that, not if it comes at the price of your friendship. I still...need you in my life, Az,” Elain was whispering now, her large eyes slightly glassy in the candlelight. 

Azriel couldn’t help but think that Elain was evidentially stronger than him, that she could still want to be around him even if he supposedly didn’t want her. If the roles were reversed, if it had been Elain who had pushed him away, he was pretty certain he would’ve manipulated his work to make him leave the Night Court for at least several years. Of course, she was stronger than him, he was beginning to think she was stronger than them all, because of this exact trait of hers - forgiveness.

“Please...say something,” Elain’s broken voice rose through the silence. She looked at him again, tears threatening to spill. Her looking at him in such a way made something deep in his chest twist, and twist and keep on twisting. 

He didn’t know what to do, so he took a step forward, and another and another, until he was a foot’s distance away from her. The whole time her eyes never left his, her hands still twisting together at the front of her beautiful, beautiful dress. He opened his mouth to speak but once again Elain had rendered him speechless. Where could he begin, how could he begin - how could he fix this?

“Elain...” was all he managed in the end, but that seemed to be enough to soothe her as her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed deeply at the sound of her name mingled with his breath.

With Elain’s eyes closed he allowed himself to greedily devour the sight of her. Just her face alone captured his attention entirely. With his eyes he memorised the curve of her cheekbones, the specific angle of her brows, even the exact chocolatey shade of her lashes. He went over it again, and again, and again, like a worshipper devouring the holy text. Azriel needed the perfection of Elain committed to memory, because he was sure that one day his luck would run out entirely. That soon he would not be permitted to even these meetings in the dead of night, with only a thousand stars as witness to their mutilated fate.

“Elain...” He tried again; his voice softer than he had ever heard it before. The person he became around Elain was foreign to himself. He had never been someone privileged enough to both love and be loved, not like this. Now that he had tasted such passions, he found he could not always recognise himself. Because he was Azriel, and he was cursed and damned, destined to be alone, to be unloved, mutilated both in mind and morality. He could not love; he shouldn’t be able to love - and yet.

“I’m sorry,” He began, his voice barely audible. And by the way Elain’s brows furrowed slightly and her mouth tightened, he knew that she knew he was talking about the last time they’d been here, in this foyer. “I wish things were different,” He whispered, now trying to memorise the exact constellations of her freckles.

“Me too,” She breathed, her eyes still closed. “I wish I was different,” She surprised him by whispering.

“Don’t...” He murmured, silently stunned, “You...you don’t know how you...” But he had to stop himself mid-sentence, had to bite his tongue between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. Because if he started to talk, he wouldn’t stop. He would tell her everything, and he wasn’t quite ready to be so vulnerable, not when he didn’t know how to be vulnerable at all.

“I...” She opened her eyes and seemed to look at him as though for the first time. After a long pause she spoke again, “I wish I had courage.”

“Courage?” Elain paused and shifted slightly from foot to foot, as though she were debating what she would say next.

“I want to be strong, like my sisters...I want to etch out my own path rather than fumble in the dark.” Azriel thought for a moment.

“You are strong, whether you perceive yourself to be or not.” He wanted nothing more than to reach up and stroke his hand along her smooth cheek, instead he dug his nails into his already marred palm and focused on the pain’s bite.

“I will never be a general,” Elain whispered, her eyes still damp, “I will never be a High Lady or a leader, I don’t care for any of that...I wish I did. You can’t imagine how badly I wish I...” Her words ran out and her eyes became slightly glossed over and detached. Again, he felt the urge to touch her, to ground her back in reality, but he just dug his nails in deeper. “I don’t belong on battlefields, though I’d always fight when the world needed me but...I’m not a warrior; and that petrifies me.”

Again, Azriel paused, taking time to absorb every word Elain offered to him under the moonlight. Azriel adored Elain, he could’ve stood there for an hour and listed everything about her that had brought him hope. How her outlook on life had been so foreign to him, so unrealistic when he first met her, that it was extraordinary now just how jealous he was of her ability to look at the morbidity of the world, and still seek out the good.

“In a world of endless bloodshed and bitterness, do not be ashamed of not wanting to be a warrior,” Azriel whispered.

“But I’m useless,” Elain quickly interjected, “I have all this power, I feel it stirring in me and there is no part of me that wishes to manipulate it or-or exploit it.” Elain’s hands came up and danced in the air as she spoke, another quirk of hers he’d both memorised and adored. Azriel thought again, long and hard, before he spoke.

“I’ve been around a lot longer than you, and from what I’ve learnt of people is...that they’re horrible,” Azriel watched as Elain’s eyes widened and drank in his words and something twisted in his chest. People didn’t look at him like that when he talked. His brothers would wink and laugh with him, his enemies cowered and flinched, those whom he bedded would smile slyly or watch his mouth as he murmured dirty things in the dead of night. But no one looked at him like that, as though he were reciting poetry, as though he were beautiful enough to say something worthy of those big eyes and parted lips.

“You wouldn’t believe the horrors I’ve seen, or the court secrets I’ve uncovered. The way people, particular those in positions of power, treat each other, treat those around them and those below them - it’s tragic. It’s merciless and cruel.” Elain was still drinking him in, still hanging onto his every word.

“I think over the centuries, I myself became desensitised to the horrors of power and politics. Especially given my start in life. When you were human I understood your naivety, your belief in the good of the world, especially after your riches had returned and your life was content.

“But what I didn’t understand was how you continued to believe good after everything you went through. After facing the most brutal torture from the Cauldron itself...you still chose to believe in the wonderful and I-I didn’t understand that. Because I couldn’t do that. Because I’d never believed in the good of people the way you do...I had never even believed in the good of myself.

“Please don’t think that kindness is something small, or something that can be overlooked. Because when the world is little more than ruin and rubble, kindness is all we have left. We’ve just been alive so long that we forget about it, us Fae, we’ve spent so much of our lives at war that it’s easy to forget why we’d even engage in such bloodshed. It wasn’t till I met you that I was reminded that such things as tenderness and humanity even existed outside my family, and once the wars were about defending those virtues rather than snuffing them out…I just, I can’t help but think that if there were more people like you in the world, maybe Prythian wouldn’t succumb to carnage every few decades, just so that the heartless noblemen of this land can feel something.”

Azriel hadn’t meant to speak for so long, in fact, he didn’t quite understand where the words had even come from. They were true, of course. He did whole-heartedly believe everything he had just said, he just hadn’t realised how much he’d ached to say it aloud. Elain was still staring at him wide-eyed, and then there was the worst thing of all, a single tear spilling over her damp eyes and trickling down her cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Elain whispered, suddenly reaching out and sliding her palm into his from where it was hanging limp at his side. Electricity shot through his arm, and he forced himself to look at her in the eye as he tensed his legs so that they didn’t crumple underneath him. “No, it’s good I’m, I’m glad you said it I...”

But again, words seemed to evade Elain as she looked up at him. Azriel was now hyperaware of her how close she was, of her smooth palm that fit so nicely in his own. His body often reacted on its own accord around Elain, and he had spent months leashing his desires into chains, beasts that could only come out in the dead of night. But since that dreaded Solstice night last winter, everything had changed.

Life these past few months had consisted of the battle between two extremes. Either he was drowning in the way his body seemed to ache and beg for her, his mind obsessing over their stuttering relationship as though it were a philosophical debate. Especially since he now knew that some part of her wanted him and had wanted to kiss him even with her mate sleeping upstairs. The fact that he now knew what her scent tasted like, how her voice sounded when it was breathy and desperate - it all fuelled the fantasies that haunted him the moment he made it back to his room. He could be on the other side of Prythian and somehow the presence of Elain Archeron would find a way to him.

The other extreme was complete and total deprivation. The reality that he hadn’t seen her for months, that she would soon exist more in memory than experience. Even though his fantasies of her were so visceral, so tangible, the reality that she was not in the room with him always came crashing down by the time his head had cleared - and then he’d feel more alone than ever before.

But when he was here, with her, the argument ceased. The torture and the pain, the writhing mind and aching debates, it all fell into beautiful silence. And so, looking at her now, he was unable to help himself. And without thought, he reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as he murmured under his breath, no more than a whisper, “Elain Archeron...saviour of the cursed and damned...”

As Azriel’s fingers grazed Elain’s cheek, a horribly confused and upset look twisted her face. She seemed to freeze at the contact and Azriel halted at her discomfort, internally berated himself for pushing her too far, for being so arrogant in thinking he could touch her in such a way.

“I...Azriel...I don’t understand,” Elain’s breathless voice seemed to caress him, and once more he found himself tensing his legs so that they wouldn’t give out under him. “You don’t want me...you said it was a mistake...” Azriel stilled, and he caught her eye in a moment of alarmed sobriety.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

He couldn’t stop the words before they spilled from his lips. It didn’t matter how soft, how quiet, his voice was, the words were innately harsh and something deep against his spine lurched at the thought of her hurting her - of hurting her again.

But Elain didn’t flinch. Her eyes, instead of widening in shock, stayed stoically still and calm. And then Azriel watched as those honeyed eyes he loved so much lapsed darker and darker, the floral musk of her arousal drifting to him like a moth to a flame, the same scent he’d been dreaming of for months, the memory of it alone making his body achingly hard and taut, as though his own skin existed only to respond to the call of hers.

The scent surrounded him, sending blood to his cock which was now throbbing viscerally against the seams of his leathers. His arousal had never felt so tight before, so extreme and sudden. He felt it, heavy in his lower abdomen, twisting and knotting his guts in both pain and pleasure. That was familiar, that he’d felt a hundred times before, but for Elain Acheron his whole body seemed to sing. His blood burned under his skin as it pounded through his body, whilst his heart was light and fluttery in his chest, as though it might edge up his throat and fall from his lips. His eyes felt heavy lidded as though he were drunk, and even though he were standing stoically still, even though he hadn’t done anything yet, he found himself short of breath.

He had never wanted something more - never. Not Mor. Not a job. Not a secret, not information. Not salvation, not mercy. God, it seemed as though in this instant, Elain had invented want for him.

He would beg for her. Right now, in the foyer where he’d first tasted this personal drug. Had Elain not been holding him up by her eyes and a single palm he would already be on his knees. He moved to fall down before her, like a worshipper at a temple, when movement at her mouth caught his eye. Azriel watched as her delicate, pink tongue slowly dragged along her lower lip to wet it as she blinked innocently at him. Azriel’s resolve was gone in a puff of smoke.

Fuck Rhysand. Fuck Lucien. Fuck the Mother, the Cauldron, the world. Fuck anyone who stood between him and Elain who he knew, he knew, wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Because of course she did. Because whatever this was, whatever was happening between them, was otherworldly and impossible to ignore.

And good luck to them, was the last though Azriel had before he leaned in. Good luck to anyone who ever dare stand between him and her, because he’d kill them - he’d fucking kill them.

Despite his body beating like a drum for Elain’s melody, he did not kiss her right away. Once he’d accepted that he would kiss her, once he’d come to that inevitable conclusion it felt like a thousand doors of golden light opened before his eyes, and it took everything he had to not sob with joy.

All those fantasies he had revelled in for the past year that had been shrouded in a miasma of fantasy and shame, rolled through his mind clear as day. He could kiss her lips. Those soft pads of blushing rose that he had already committed to memory. Or he could trace down and press his lips to the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, a crook of intimacy that he’d already figured out from watching her protect it with her hands when someone stood behind her. He could kiss her temples, her cheeks, her throat - every fucking inch of her.

Now that his resolve had snapped like an elastic band stretched too far, he found that he was finally free. Looking at her he hadn’t realised how long he had taken, how slowly he was leaning in until Elain’s fingers suddenly gripped the leathers across his chest and her brows furrowed as she pulled closer to him, her eyes dark and desperate, her mouth wet and parted as she half-gasped, half-whispered, “Please....Azriel...”

He did moan then. A low, throaty sound that escaped him at the sound of his name intertwined with her breathy gasps. He snapped.

He had intended to savour every second of kissing her, but the moment his lips touched hers, he felt fire. Elain’s hands ran up his chest before intertwining themselves in his hair as she pulled herself against him and he moaned again, the second time in a minute, into her mouth. Because he could feel her, all of her, pressed against his hot throbbing body. The soft pressure of her breasts, the bones of her hips, even one of her legs had tucked between his own, the sides of their knees brushing together. She was going to kill him. She was going to fucking kill him.

And then there was her mouth. Softer than petals, and so obviously hers in taste and touch. Every time their lips brushed, every time he felt her perfect breath mingling with his own, shivers erupted across his body. Unable to stop himself he brushed back her hair before firmly grasping the side of her neck, his hand was so large against her velvet skin that he knew he could probably hold her entire throat in one hand. He put it there as an ode to the last time he’d been here. He’d put it there as a fuck you to fate.

His other hand curled around her waist and pressed against her back where - and he moaned again - Elain’s exposed skin greeted him.

He wanted to take her right her. Wanted to lie her down on the carpet and bury his head between her thighs as he had done so many times before in his fantasies. How he ached to taste her, all of her, to pin her writhing thighs back with one hand and wrists with the other. He wanted to look at her perfect angelic face as he made her sing sinful sounds for him. Wanted to make her toes curl and back arch as she came on his tongue. Again, and again, and again.

Elain tugged slightly on Azriel’s hair and he was thrust back into his body, back into the present, and he had to stifle another moan because those thousands of fantasies had nothing, nothing, on this.

In response to Elain’s needy tug, Azriel bent slightly and curled a hand around the back of each of her thighs and hoisted her up against his chest. Elain, much to his delight, snapped her legs around him as he lifted her against his chest, their lips still ferociously dancing. He only had to walk a few paces to set her against the edge of the lobby table, but that particular move was one that had been haunting him more recently of late.

He went to pull away after she was set down on the wooden tabletop. He wanted to see her, with her hair ruffled and her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and her chest heaving. He wanted to commit that image to memory because there was still some part of him that could not believe this was real.

But as he moved to step back, Elain caught him off guard as her legs tightened from where they were wrapped around his hips, something of a growl arising from the back of her throat as she fisted his leathers and pulled him against her. Azriel obeyed her, like a puppy on a leash, leaning his hands against the table, either side of her hips, in order to stay standing.

She was flushed against him once more. Her breasts pushed against his chest which felt suffocated by the Illyrian leathers, he ached to have her skin brushing against his own, but all in good time. He slipped his tongue into her mouth then and revelled in the juxtaposing thrill and relaxation of exploring her in this way. But there was still an inch of space between their hips. He didn’t know why he left it there, even when Elain dragged him against her, perhaps it was because he knew the minute they were aligned in cardinal perfection, there would be no turning back. He would be hers and vice versa, and she would be his muse and his priority, and he would put her before everything - even his High Lord.

To steady himself, Azriel made the mistake of taking his hand and bracing himself on Elain’s thigh. What he was not expecting was for his palm to find the soft, exposed flesh of her leg from where her dress must’ve mischievously ridden upwards when he had lifted her.

Purely on instinct, Azriel moaned and drove his hips forward into her core, earning a breathy sigh from them both as they finally found an inch of friction in their writhing. There was only fabric now. Measly layers of fabric that came between them.

“Fuck...” Elain gasped into his mouth and some outrageously animalistic part of him growled in satisfaction at having pulled a sinful swear from her angelic mouth. Azriel kept one hand against the wood near her hips to stay steady, to stop himself from grounding his hips into her like an uncontrollable beast, the other stayed on the warm, smooth flesh of her exposed thigh.

Slowly, he began to trace rough circles with his thumb on her inner thigh earning a flutter of breathy sighs to dance from her lips which pleased his soul to no avail. Azriel parted from her lips and began to pepper kisses along her jawline as he torturously inched his thumb up, inch by inch with each circle. When Azriel began to kiss and suck on the spot just below her ear he allowed himself to peek at her as he worked.

Her head was tilted back slightly, her throat bobbing as high hums fluttered from her. If he could paint he would paint the perfect blush of her swollen lips. If he were a poet he would turn her breathy moans into the sweetest of sonnets. And then she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth as a soft moan escaped her and he had to look away, if only to stop himself from reaching down and fisting himself at the sight of it.

With his head turned Azriel hissed out of surprise as his thumb rubbed against a sticky sweetness coating her inner thigh. God she was wet. And as he rubbed further, coating his thumb in her essence, he had to bite his cheek as to not come in his pants like a schoolboy. Azriel stopped rubbing circles in favour for taking his first finger and tracing back and forth over the highest point of her thigh, slow and torturous as he familiarised himself with the feel of her. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest when his fingers brushed against a lacy frill at the apex of her thigh. Tilting his head Azriel was able to husk into her ear.

“What do you want Elain?” His voice was low and breathy before he caught her lobe between his teeth. Another shuddering gasp floated from her lips. 

“I want you to touch me...and I don’t want you stop,” the sound of her voice so mingled with pleasure and need was almost enough to undo him. “Ever,” She went on, “Not until I don’t know my own name.” 

She was going to kill him. Growling in satisfaction he rewarded her answer with one quick brush over her lace underthing's, the touch was like electricity for them both. Elain physically tremored as Azriel finally brushed where she needed him most, and Azriel shuddered at the contact with the girl of his dreams. 

“Please, Azriel,” Azriel stilled for a moment, wondering how she would react to his instinctual next move. His particular flavour of making love.

“Say that again,” He said slowly, his voice barely more than a brutal, low husk. As he spoke Azriel allowed some of his power to ebb into the words, the siphons a top his hands guttering as they came to life. It felt slightly wrong to use such a voice on her, the one he so often used with enemies, but Azriel watched as Elain’s lips parted, her pupils expanding as her breath grew heavy in response to his dominant voice. Oh, Azriel couldn’t help but think in agonising awe. Maybe his deep assumptions, the ones that only haunted him in that void he entered before he fell asleep, were true. That Elain, the purest of sisters, was also the filthiest.

“Please, Az,” Her voice was breathy and pleading, but there was something alight in her eyes as she begged him.

“Good girl,” Azriel couldn’t stop himself from husking as he peeled back the top of the lace. They both stared unwaveringly into each other’s eyes as Azriel dipped his hands along her, not touching just hovering. He held his hand there, an inch away from where she needed him most, waiting until she almost whimpered before he slid a single finger slowly through her folds. 

Her reaction was blissful to see. The way she bit her lip, her back arched, and her eyes fluttered shut. Azriel moved with her, his own mouth parted, and brows furrowed as he stroked her again.

“Don’t close your eyes,” He murmured in his voice of steel, “Look at me.” Elain’s eyes snapped open, and it was his turn to be caught off guard. Gone was the hazelnut colour, even the sensuous black he had somehow lulled them into, what met him was the colour of bright honey and her eyes, they were glowing. They stood out like gemstones being pierced by golden light. It was then that Azriel began to take note of their surroundings and realise that the thrumming was not just happening inside him but all around him. Ripple after ripple of raw, ancient power was bleeding from Elain, fizzing into the air and turning the entire foyer into something alive and electric. A shiver ran along Azriel’s entire body as his own powers itched to sing in harmony with hers; cobalt energy rising to meet her golden light.

Her folds were dripping, and he was having an internal debate on whether or not to rip off her underwear. On one hand he would have better access, he would be able to pleasure her better, and he could even push her back against the table and lower his head and taste her. On the other, he couldn’t stand being disconnected from her for a second. 

Whilst he debated, he slowly raked his finger up her again before finding that small bundle of nerves. When he caught it with his fingertip and began to drag slow, luxurious circles over it, a throaty, guttural moan escaped her lips. He bit his cheek again. He wondered if anyone had fucked her like this and again, that pride bloomed when he realised that he might be the first. Not her first, but the first person to show her the true ecstasy of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Elain gasped as her head fell forward on his shoulder. Azriel allowed the eye contact to break, too absorbed by the feeling of having Elain writhing under his fingers to care.

He’d always thought that he could die a happy man if ever he was blessed enough to experience such a joy as Elain Archeron, but now he realised what a stupid notion that was. Because Elain wasn’t cause for death but cause for life. He’d live for Elain, Azriel realised. Elain who was writhing and mewling into his shoulder as he slowly brought her to the ecstasy she deserved. She was close and following this he would winnow them away to either his unused apartment in central Velaris, or deep in the gardens on this summer night, where they would be entirely alone, and everything would be perfect. And once they’d had their fill on the pure bliss of one another they could talk about everything, and they’d find a solution and they’d work it out, and everything would be okay - and then Rhysand walked in, and everything came crashing down.

Some part of Azriel’s hazy mind had been aware of the movement deep in the house but it had been so, so inconsequential compared to what was in front of him. And his shadows, well his shadows were nowhere to be seen, not with golden light quite literally thrumming from Elain. There had been no warning, and as Rhys met Azriel’s eye when he still had his fingers flush against Elain some primal part of Azriel reared its head.

In an instant Azriel’s siphons were spluttering to life as power surged through Azriel, his wings instinctively flaring as wide as they would stretch, so that the cresting talon of each wing scraped into the polished walls. Rhys, who was standing at the edge of the foyer, an unrecognisable expression scorched into his face, was a threat at that moment, and the whole world seemed to still as Azriel slowly came down from the high of his arousal.

Slowly, Azriel removed his hand from Elain’s underwear and smoothed down her skirts to cover her legs, all the while never moving his eyes from Rhys. He didn’t care if he was in for the doghouse, didn’t give a shit about what consequences his happiness had just induced - Elain came first.

And right now, even though it was a ludicrous thought, Azriel was preparing himself to protect Elain from Rhysand. Elain’s whose nightgown had slipped down her shoulder, whose eyes were wide as she glanced over her shoulder at her brother-in-law, exposed and vulnerable just as she’d been on the worst night of her life.

“Azriel,” Rhysand finally spoke and Azriel shifted slightly to pull Elain closer to his chest. “My office...now.” It seemed as though all sense of formality had dropped as Rhysand’s High Lord voice billowed into the room. Azriel didn’t speak, didn’t move either, just shifted his eyes to Elain whose face was blanch and confused.

“Can’t this wait?” Azriel asked, his voice low and full of strength. Instantly he realised that he should’ve worded his question better. He didn’t want time in order to finish off what he and Elain had begun, but rather to give Elain a moment to breathe, for her to fix her dress and smooth her hair, for her to do whatever she needed to do before she was forced to face her family. Rhysand’s eyes darkened, and he entered the room in a low stride, both hands digging deep into his pockets. Azriel moved instantly, stepping around Elain to put himself in front of her as Rhysand approached.

Without a word Rhysand came closer and closer, and Azriel continued to stretch his wings to cover Elain from whatever vitriol was about to be thrown his way. But Rhysand didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move suddenly, just reached out a single hand until it was barely touching Azriel’s arm as darkness surrounded them both.

Before Azriel even had a chance to realise that Rhysand was winnowing them away – away from Elain – they were standing in his office, and Azriel couldn’t help but shake his head at the slight Deja-vu of the whole situation. Except this time, he wouldn’t be bounding himself in shackles, he’d be setting himself free, whether Rhys wanted him to or not.

Azriel was standing in front of the large mahogany desk of Rhysand’s office whilst it’s owner moved behind it, one hand still in his pocket. Already the air in the room was taut with energy, as though the very air were cowering in the face of the upcoming argument. And still Azriel’s mind was still thinking of the girl in the foyer, her name like a mantra beating through his body,

“Put your cock away Azriel,” Rhys immediately spat in response to the ripples of cobalt energy rippling from Azriel’s form. Azriel didn’t deem the childish comment with a retort, though his arousal was already gone, and quickly replaced by the tautness of anger and frustration. His shadows had returned to him now that he was away from Elain, and they were writhing uncontrollably around his legs and back.

Azriel stayed standing, folding his arms over his chest just for something to do. It was then that Rhys sighed heavily, leaning against his desk and hanging his head. He wasn’t as tired nor as desperate as when they’d last spoken like this - of this. No, now Rhys had everything. Everything he had ever, and could ever want, and now his fight lay in protecting the paradise he had found in Feyre and Nyx. Whilst Azriel was still in the dark, still alone, still secretly in agony - they were not the same.

“I gave you the simplest of orders,” Rhys sighed like a disappointed father and something brutally aggressive awoke in Azriel. How dare he, how dare Rhys speak to him like that?

“I know,” Azriel said, his voice indiscernible and calm. Rhys swung his head up to glare at Azriel, something emotional lingering in his violet eyes.

“You know? Then, Azriel, why did you take it upon yourself to disobey me?” Azriel’s grip on his biceps tightened. 

“Elain is...” Azriel began before he had to lower his eyes. What was Elain? How could he explain to Rhys the inexplicable way he felt about the angelic gardener? The effect she had on him, it was both irrational and yet made perfect sense. And right now, he could barely focus with knowing that somewhere in this house she was looking around confused, wondering what the hell had just happened. “She’s important to me. More than you realise.”

“She has a mate.”

“That is irrelevant-”

“Irrelevant?” Rhysand looked as though he might laugh and Azriel once more gripped his arms tight enough to bruise. “I thought I made it perfectly clear to you Azriel that the bond between Elain and Lucien-” Azriel growled at his name, Rhys ignored him, “-is paramount to the civility between us and not just the Autumn Court, not just the Spring Court or the Day Court, but also the Band of Exiles and the Human realms.”

“And have you ever wondered if maybe Elain deserves better?”

“Better than Lucien-” Rhys practically squawked. 

“No,” Azriel growled, allowing his anger to show, “Better than us. Better than a family who reduce her to little more than a political pawn-”

“She is my sister,” Rhysand spat, standing up straight with a newfound intensity. “Don’t you dare question my treatment of her, don’t you dare suggest I don’t care for her.”

“Are you truly so out of touch that you do not see the shackles you’ve tied around her wrists?” Azriel uncurled his arms, “You’ve stripped her of any choice-”

“This is not about choice!”

“This has everything to do with choice!”

“Elain is a valued member of my family but also of my court. As her High Lord, I have made a difficult decision but one that will undoubtedly strengthen this us in the now impending war. It was a tough decision and if you want me to be the bad guy, fine, I’ll be the bad guy, but you will obey my orders as this is the best choice for Elain.”

“Then why don’t you ask her,” Azriel growled, grappling with the internal leash on his powers, “Why don’t you actually include her in the decisions you’ve made about her life.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Rhys flicked invisible lint from his suit, “But Elain is a valued member of these discussions.” 

“Then why isn’t she here?” Azriel husked quietly, full of venom. Rhysand apparently didn’t have anything to say to that, so Azriel went on. “You claim to value choice Rhysand, and yet you’ve stripped Elain of not just her own volition, but the simple knowledge of the choices made about her life.”

There was something bitter clanging through Azriel as he spat the words, he knew what it was, it was a word - hypocrite. Because whilst Azriel was fighting for Elain, really he should be allowing for Elain to fight for herself. He should’ve left the office the minute Rhysand winnowed them and searched for Elain. He should’ve told her, all those months ago, about why he could no longer be around her. And that’s why Elain deserved better, better than Rhys and better than him, because even now they talked of her rather than with her.

“You are to stay away from her,” Rhysand said at last, glaring out the study’s window almost as though he was ignoring Azriel.

“I can’t do that. Not anymore,” Azriel husked, and Rhys paused, catching Azriel’s eye before he hastily looked to the side and raked a hand through his hair. 

“I told you, Azriel. I told you to stay away from Ly-” Both Azriel and Rhys’ eyes widened at the name that nearly fell from Rhysand’s lips. A revelation occurring to them both as the name Rhys’ long deceased sister was brought into the room. “Elain,” Rhys corrected himself, acting unbothered by his slip. “I told you stay away.”

Azriel didn’t know how to respond. He’d spend hours in training rings, on long haul flights or espionage ventures thinking of this specific argument. The way he’d tell Rhys all the things he should’ve said on that Solstice night, about the disservice they were both doing to Elain, about how it was outrageous of Rhys to demand Azriel put politics before his happiness after, well, everything. 

After Azriel had spent 500 years alone with only a doomed infatuation with a woman who would never love him back. After Azriel had always favoured to be alone, to suffer in silence, to take the blame, and now he finally had an out. After Azriel had to put up with both his brothers finding their perfect happiness, Rhys himself almost starting a war by perusing and protecting Feyre.

Why was it so different for him? Why was it the moment Azriel had happiness within an arm’s reach there were a thousand excuses for him not to have it? What was so poisonous about his desires? About him?

“She’s not Lydia,” Azriel said at last. It was a low blow. Especially since Rhys had so clearly tried to cover up his slip a moment ago. “For one, you would never treat Lydia with such little respect. Elain is her own person and I’m not going to fight with you, or Lucien, or anyone for that matter like she’s some kind of prize.”

This argument was too real. Of course, they’d had arguments before, all three of them had. Azriel could remember a particularly nasty one between Cassian and Rhys where they hadn’t spoken for a year, Azriel bouncing between them like an owl. But this wasn’t a brotherly squabble, not when the stakes were so high.

Rhys sighed, still not meeting Azriel’s eye as a muscle in his jaw ticked. It seemed as though the High Lord also understood the irregularity of the dispute, or maybe he was just furious at facing his own errors, at his spymaster criticising him on failing someone so important on a matter which Rhysand prided himself on - the volition of the women in his life. After what happened with his mother and his sister, to find out he was now failing his new family must be driving him mad.

“You just can’t keep it in your pants can you Azriel?” 

It may have been less shocking if Rhys had just leaned over and stabbed Azriel in the gut. His words clanged into the air with a sour metallic taste, and for a moment Azriel lost his breath, his jaw slackening as his shock registered before he could swiftly cover the expression with the mask of steel he’d perfected. The silence following the comment was perhaps worse than the blow itself. Now it was Azriel who couldn’t stand looking at his brother. He didn’t care if Rhys looked apologetic, didn’t care for him at all. 

“Do you really think so low of me?” Azriel’s voice was deathly quiet, before he finally shifted his eyes up to see the raw regret plastered on his brothers face.

“No, I-” A vicious knock came at the door then, interrupting whatever apology Rhys was going to throw his way.

“Open the door,” Came Elain’s voice, more brutal than he’d ever heard it before. Something electric shot through Azriel at the sound of it, of her. If anything, her voice was a reminder that this was real, that his hair was tousled, and lips swollen because of Elain-fucking-Archeron.

Rhys didn’t move for the door, so Azriel did. Turning around, he walked the length of Rhys’ office to the large double oak doors and pulled one back without hesitation. He knew she deserved to be here, that she should’ve been here from the start. 

Azriel was so set on opening the door for the sake of justice and fairness that he momentarily forget that it was Elain on the other side, and the sight of her made his breath stop in his throat. Her hair was still ruffled from where he had raked his hands through it, and her lips still blushed from where he had tugged on them with his teeth. There was also a faint flush of her cheeks, either from their previous activities or from running through the River House searching for him and his brother.

Something electric and charged ran the entire length of his body at the sight of her - not arousal, something deeper. And by the way her glowing eyes drank him in, he knew she felt it too. Azriel stepped aside and let her pass into the office and walk up to Rhysand’s desk. As he followed her, something bitter twisted in his gut - whatever was blooming between himself and the gardener was a thing to celebrate. Such love, light and warmth in his life which had thus far consisted of cold loneliness was a joyous and wonderful thing. And yet he was made to feel ashamed of his happiness, by his brother. His own damn brother.

“What’s going on?” Elain spoke in her traditionally soft voice, but even Rhys must’ve picked up and the unwavering steel that seeped from her tone, so similar to Nesta’s pitch. 

“Nothing, Elain. Just a dispute between myself and Azriel. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with,” Rhysand’s easy smile warmed through his cheeks and Azriel was sure he was going to punch him before the night was out.  

“Don’t lie to me Rhysand, it’s not a good look for a High Lord,” Elain spoke smoothly, folding her arms over her chest as Azriel had done moments ago. Rhys’ expression only flickered in response. “Now, what’s going on?” Elain asked again.

“Well,” Rhysand began, “Me and Azriel have been discussing you actually, you see, your bond with Lucien is unfortunately paramount to a lot of peace and unity between our court and others.” Rhysand looked blankly at Evie as he spoke, completely dethatched from the emotional anger he’d unleashed on Azriel moments ago.

“Is this about me breaking the bond?” Elain said, her voice smooth like honey, healing the sparking energy in the room as Azriel and Rhysand had geared up for a fight. Something about the question twisted Azriel’s guts. It was her terminology; it was all wrong. There was no such thing as breaking a bond, one could reject it and render the attachment limp and lifeless, but breaking a bond was only achieved in death, and even then some believe the bond to continue in the next life. It was just a reminder that Elain knew nothing about this world, Lucien had placed the acceptance or rejection of the bond in her hands, but she did not even know what either option would truly entail. Her education, it was another thing they’d all failed her on.

“If you wish to reject your bond with Lucien I, nor anyone in this court, will prevent you from doing so,” Rhysand said smoothly, “However, given the current political climate, I must say it would be best to leave this till after the war.” Elain did not look away as she thought.

“I don’t want the bond,”

“That’s perfectly okay-”

“No,” Elain interrupted, “I don’t want the bond at all. I don’t want to have to accept or reject anything - I just don’t want it...you....you don’t know what it’s like, to be pulled apart limb by limb, and be remade against your will, to find yourself destroyed and then re-crafted by something as unapologetic as the Cauldron itself. I was violated to the most extravagant degree and when I finally came around, when I finally managed to find something recognisable in myself, months after that night, I came around to find that I had been reduced to some ancient claim a stranger possessed over me. You are all kind, and you all mean well, but I know you all see myself as his.

“It was on the worst night of my life, the night when I had been pulled apart till I was only vessels and blood, he called me his. He is not a bad person I can see that,” her voice wobbled slightly then, “He is kind and witty, he’s working harder than any of you for the forgiveness of my sister. He doesn’t deserve…” She choked up slightly, but cleared her throat to cover it up, “He’s not bad…but this bond is terrible, it’s worst then terrible, it’s suffocating. And when I think of that bond, tied around my ribs like some kind of violating shackle, I just think of how it felt to suffocate on black water...that’s what this bond means to me, it’s a violation on top of a violation. So, to hear that to you, this bond gives you a political advantage, that you get a gain out of it and that you wish me to continue living in torment I...

“I wish I could be sorry about feeling this way, but I don’t. I have stayed quiet, and I have played the role you needed me to play. I keep out of your way; I busy myself with the gardens and dinner and I do everything I can to not bare my teeth every time he visits. But I...” Her wide, damp eyes turned to look at Azriel, “I have found something living in the never ending grave of my life. After I found myself again, all those months after the Cauldron, it felt as though it was only then I emerged from the black water. After I found...” She trailed off, stilling holding Azriel’s eye, “...I was not just out the black water, but back on the ground.” 

A small silence settled over the room as Azriel and Elain found themselves quickly lost in one another again, Rhys was merely glancing between the two, his mind whirring as he tried to click together the puzzle in front of him.

“I tried Rhys…I really did,” Azriel finally whispered into the heavy silence, still not looking away from his beloved. “I’ve done everything short of chaining myself in the dungeons to stay away, but I can’t.” It wasn’t until the words had left Azriel’s mouth that he realised his error. And it wasn’t until Elain’s brows furrowed and her eyes moved to Rhysand, that he felt his heart drop.

“What?” Elain whispered. One of the thousand questions she no doubt harvested. Azriel couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t meet his brothers eye. He had this awful feeling now twisting his guts, the feeling that everything was about to come crashing down.

“I ordered Azriel to stay away from you,” Rhys said evenly. Always the honest man.

“I...what?” Elain spluttered softly, her eyes narrowing on Rhysand. “What?”

“He called me away on solstice night when I was about to kiss you, that’s why I stopped.” That’s why I called it a mistake. Elain’s eyes burned even brighter and Azriel wondered if he should’ve held his tongue. If he should’ve just waited to have this conversation tomorrow where whatever ancient power that was stirring in Elain had calmed down. Now Elain’s glowing eyes seemed to fill the room with golden light, even the black night shrouding Rhysand’s figure ebbed back and inch.

“What?” Elain’s voice rung out, the magic in the room quickly turning volatile.

“I am sorry Elain; I didn’t mean to meddle with your private affairs, but with Lucien under the same roof it would’ve been too risky for those in the house. He could’ve invoked something called a ‘blood duel’.” Of course, Elain didn’t know that, of course none of her friends or family had taken the time to explain that to her. 

“You…you sanctimonious dick,” Elain spat. Had it been any other day, Azriel would’ve had to fight an astonished grin at hearing the words on her lips, but not tonight, not when everything was turning so morbid in front of his eyes.

“I’m sorry Elain, I truly am. But I’m not just your brother-in-law but your High Lord and I cannot risk my entire court for the mild infatuation of a-”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” The words were writhing in venom as Azriel spat them out. He would go down with her. 

“No, Azriel, you don’t speak to me like that,” And with that Rhys’ last straw was gone. In an instant his power was billowing into the room in clouds of black smoke. Rhys acting in such a way in front of Elain, who was already vulnerable, her dress already ruffled and her eyes wide in alarm, made Azriel furious.

“I am your high lord, Azriel, and I gave you a direct command and you have disobeyed me-” Without thinking Azriel’s own icy power rose to the surface, his siphons lighting on fire at the surge. If Elain was frightened by their display of bottomless power she did not show it, perhaps as her own fire was still burning vividly behind her eyes, perhaps since she knew she had more power than them both.

“Have you ever thought perhaps you stepped out of line by asking such a thing of me?” Azriel had never heard his voice so loud and angry before. He didn’t do this. His arguments were stoic and brutal, but mostly silent. He never fought politics - he carved into people who were in chains, and when there was an argument he stayed in the shadows and listened.

“You are my spymaster-”

“I am your brother!” Azriel’s choked sob echoed into the room. “Do I not deserve to be happy?” Rhysand at least had the decency to flinch, to reel back and allow his jaw to slacken in shock.

“Of course, you deserve to be happy brother,” Rhysand’s voice was low and strangled, “But this isn’t just romance – it’s never just romance – this will be a battle-”

“And I’m willing to fight!” Azriel roared, his hands slamming into Rhysand’s desk, his power causing the entire house to shudder, right down to the foundations.

“Azriel,” Rhys’ voice was deathly quiet, “I need you to calm down.” For a moment Azriel didn’t understand, his mind was so focused on Elain, on his own shuddering heart and writhing powers that he simply could not comprehend the words that came out his brothers mouth. Finally, the message registered in his mind and he became aware of his shadows, flourishing and filling the entire room, crawling over the windows and blocking out all the light. The only way he was seeing Rhysand was via the golden glow that came from Elain’s eyes. Disgust racked through his body at the sight of the manifestation of his swirling pain, but before he could do anything, the leash on his powers snapped.

“Azriel-” The next series of events was a blur. Power billowed into the room in a quick explosion, God knows whose it was. Perhaps it was initially Azriel who had finally lost control on that leash on his Illyrian gifts, perhaps Rhysand moved to repress Azriel’s powers with his own, premature or not. Maybe the quiet Elain had had enough of the noise. In an instant, a cocktail of three brands of magic billowed towards each other before exploding outwards, sending a wave of pure, unhinged chaos through the room, the house, and the whole of Velaris.

They all were thrown back from each other, Rhys flying up and landing on his feet, bracing himself against the ornamental globe as his wings appeared and flared. But even he, the most powerful High Lord in history had his knees bent and his arms raised as he braced himself against the fizzling aftershock of the ancient power that tore through the air. Azriel’s centuries of training kicked in as he was catapulted the length of the room, his own wings flared to slow his flight before he caught himself on the doorframe, the weighty wooden doors having flung open, it took an immense amount of physical upper body strength to keep himself upright as the wave of power subsided, his teeth grinding together as his muscles screamed.

But he wasn’t aware of the pain of his screaming muscles, wasn’t thinking about how his wings were in danger of being shredded by the power that ripped through the room. There was only one person, that his entire being seemed to lurch for as his mind screamed her name over and over. Elain.

Elain.

Elain.

He had seen as her pale form was flung away from him towards the cabinets, had heard the shattering of glass over the howling in his ears. Of course, he and Rhysand were okay, they had centuries of power and training under their belts but Elain…Elain didn’t have training, and she had flown through the air the fastest, taking the brunt of the powers rebound, her small form crashing into the case of Rhysand’s prized artefacts.

The minute Azriel had control of his own body and wasn’t being thrust back into the hallway, he winnowed to her, stepped into the shadows with a haste and urgency he’d never felt before. Wrong. He’d felt this fear before, he recognised it’s taste from the poisonous memories of that night Elain had been ripped away from them, leaving behind nothing but a vacant cot and warm sheets. Memories of that night often haunted his dreams; how ridiculously lucky they had gotten that they had reached Elain minutes before the King of Hybern got his hands on her. In his dreams he was too late. In his nightmares he fails her, and by the time he and Feyre find the tent she’s already gone. Sometimes there’s a body, and sometimes his unconscious mind is kind enough to just leave behind her lingering scent. That night he learned what it was like to truly fear, to have the blood leave your body, to feel the world still.

And that’s what the world did as he stepped onto the other side of the shadows. Elain was crumpled on the floor underneath the large bay windows, moonlight streaming into the mutilated room and illuminating her still form. It was as though the starlight was searching for her, reaching out to her with hands made of silver shadows.

Glass crunched under Azriel’s boots as he took a step forward, and another, and another. Because he could scent it before he saw it – the blood. The sour metallic taste that clogged up the air, interwoven with her own delicate scent. Wrong, it was so wrong, to have Elain’s scent fused with that of blood. She was facing away from him, crumpled on her side in a foetal position, and he could see her arms, her beautiful nimble arms so like the legs of a doe, limp on the floor and marred with what seemed to be a thousand cuts.

Her blood was black in the moonlight, and was colouring her beautiful, beautiful night dress. The roaring in Azriel’s ears was nothing short of explosive. And before him he saw a black wave, taller than the Ramiel, heading straight for him. One that was made of self-loathing, anger, frustration and agony, and as he dropped to his knees in front of Elain he felt it wash over him, burying him deeper in himself than he’d ever been before, and he knew he would not resurface.

Slowly, as not to hurt her further, Azriel rolled Elain over onto her back and into his lap. With shaky fingers he pushed back her hair, just as he had done less than an hour earlier. Her eyes were shut again, but this time he didn’t look at her face for beauty, but for a sign of life.

“Elain…” He whispered; his voice was softer than petals. She did not stir.

“Elain…” He murmured again as he bowed his head and pressed it against her chest, sticky blood rubbing against his cheek as he did so. For a moment it was all silent, and Azriel felt the world drop away, felt himself falling through bottomless black water only to never resurface.

And then there it was. The familiar ‘thu-thump’ beating slow and steady in her chest, the sweetest melody Azriel had ever heard. But before he could revel in the relief of Elain being alive, movement at the side of his eye made him snap his head, turn up his top lip and let loose a nothing but feral growl. It was his brother, and a small wave of shame rolled through him at having behaved in such a way to someone whom he owed so much.

“Azriel…” Rhysand’s voice was soothing, calm, “She’s having a vision…look, Azriel look. She’s okay, she’s just having a vision.”

And so, he looked again and yes, she was having a vision. Behind her eyelids Azriel could see her pupils flurrying side to side as though she were engaged in some riveting dream.

She’s having a vision; she’s having a vision. His shadows chanted to him, running up his back and whispering in his ear. It didn’t soothe him, but rather caused the cloud of anger around him to disappear, so that he was numb again. Some movement deep in the house pulled at his attention, but it was like a ribbon trying to move an ocean, there was nothing for it to hold onto.

And soon both men were turning to the worst thing of all: Feyre and Nesta, standing at the doorway looking at their sister unresponsive in a pool of blood, both primed and ready to kill. 

“Get away from her.” Nesta’s voice clanged through the room like steel as she strode forward, seeming to fill the broken room with her strength alone. As she moved she revealed a slightly dazed Cassian behind her, still dressed in his night clothes and yet armed to the teeth, clearly having been awoken in a haste. Rhys took a step back, there was too much power, too much energy, in the room already, provoking Nesta would surely lead them all to their sudden deaths.

Then there was Feyre, walking into the room behind her sister, quiet but observant, the perfect High Lady. She seemed to assess everything around her. The tautness of her husband’s stature, the silent flood of emotions that seemed to be rippling from her spymaster, Elain’s shallow breaths and bloodied night gown. After a moment of quiet assessment, she moved forth to the stoic and emotionless figure of her shadowsinger.

“Azriel,” Rhys recognised Feyre’s tone as she approached his brother, it was the tone she used with Nyx, motherly and soft. Azriel pulled his eyes from Elain to look at Feyre vacantly. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay…but I need you to let me take her.” Azriel’s mouth contorted in pain as he pulled Elain slighter closer to his chest.

“I know,” Feyre whispered, dropping to her knees next to him, not caring that her own silken nightgown was turning splotchy and red. “I know it’s hard but everything’s going to be okay. She’s my sister, and I as your High Lady will not let anything harm her.” There’s no need, Azriel thought bitterly as he looked down at Elain’s deathly pale skin, her abuser is here, right in front of you. The only harm you need protect her from, is me.

But he didn’t say any of that out loud, he wasn’t even sure his voice would work for him in that moment. Azriel didn’t quite hand Elain over to Feyre, rather he just let his arms go limp around her, and Feyre was able to scoop her sister out of his arms as though they were passing Nyx from one another. Every instinct Azriel had was screaming at him to take Elain back, to at least look at her unconscious form in Feyre’s arms as they moved away from him, but he kept his eyes on the floor, now kneeling to only the pools of Elain’s blood.

Voices began to erupt around him in hushes whispers, he could distantly hear Rhysand guiding his subjects through the plan, explaining to them what had happened whilst withholding the reason why. It was all numb to him as he continued to float under that black wave, sinking deeper and deeper, their voices were above the surface and so they just sounded warbled and strange.

But one movement did catch Azriel’s eye. It cut through the room’s silent chaos like a knife, a figure appearing at the ruined doorway that caught Azriel’s attention the same way an earthquake would. It was him.

Lucien.

“What happened?” Lucien growled out and something roared in Azriel. He knew that tone of voice, could smell the mate-tarnished anger that was rolling out of him. That animalistic claim on the woman Azriel had nearly lost himself in only moments ago. That’s why he was here, because he would’ve felt the energy down the bond, because even though he was at the other end of Prythian with his own family, he had that claim. 

“She’s okay,” Feyre breathed softly as she lifted her sister up into her arms, “Her cuts are already healing, it looks worse than it is. She’s just had a vision so it might take a while for her to come around.” Feyre’s voice was so like her husband’s, even and balanced, reassuring everyone in the room that everything was okay, even if that were not necessarily true.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Azriel didn’t want to hate Lucien, even now he could see that the Autumn son was grappling with the bond that was no doubt screaming at him to rip his mate from Feyre’s arms and winnow them both to the other side of the continent. Azriel knew, because he felt it too. Like Elain he didn’t really hate Lucien, he hated the bond, hated what it told him about himself, clear as day, that he wasn’t worthy of Elain. And though some part of him already assumed just as much, no one was so self-deprecating to not at least hold of a sliver of hope in the face of such agony.

“She’s fine,” Nesta snarled at Lucien, one hand on Feyre’s shoulder, the other on Elain’s pale and bloodied forehead as she guided her sisters towards to mutilated door frame. They were right to take their sister away from the scene, God knew that no one there could help Elain now.

And so Elain disappeared around the corner, and Azriel slowly brought himself off the floor, trying to ignore the sight of his marred hands, covered in her blood.

What...even...Cassian’s voice swam into Rhys mind, dripping in confusion and concern. Did you and Az have a fight?

Rhys put off audibly groaning. Whenever he and Az fought it was normally not difficult to keep Cassian oblivious, he didn’t always pick up and stuff like that and sometimes it was just easier to deal with debates behind closed doors. Not to treat Cassian as his and Az’s overgrown child, it was just that Cassian was never meant to be a mediator.

It’s complicated, Rhys reported back keeping his voice level and calm - his High Lord voice.

I’ll let you off for tonight but, Rhys, you have to let me help you. Especially when it comes to Az. He was right of course, just like Azriel had been.

Deal, Rhys shot back, for tonight I need eyes on Az, I don’t care if he pushes you away I need someone with him at all times, at least until Elain comes around. We’ll re-group then. Cassian didn’t respond besides the smallest of nods. He stayed where he was, more awake now with his eyes trained on their other brother, and Rhys knew Cassian wouldn’t take his eyes off him for the foreseeable future.

Rhysand couldn’t help but sigh, it’s not as though Azriel or Lucien were aware of him to notice. This was a mess. Worse than a mess, it was a catastrophe. Everything Azriel had said was right but, he had broken his order, he had defied rank in a way he’d never done before and that squeezed something deep in Rhysand’s gut. Above all he needed to be able to trust his friends, so that when push came to shove he’d be able to make the tough decisions and his friends would let him go into the belly of the beast. But tonight, that had changed. Everything had changed.

And Elain, Elain who he had nearly called by his sisters name, she’d stood up for herself tonight. And then there was the situation of her powers, savage and rippling out of her like a beast. He had tasted those powers when they’d tore out of her, and they were ancient. The same power that was interwoven in the very fields of the earth, concentrated in the form of the sweetest girl of all. Rhys knew at least a thousand fae who would pay a hefty price to possess Elain, a hundred who might be willing to go to war - and then there were the Fae who would claw for her hand, the noblemen who would see her for her potential offspring. Rhysand physically shuddered as he sent his wings away.

Yes, tonight had been a catastrophe all right.

Rhysand looked away from Cassian’s half-hidden grimace and turned to the two males standing off, the blood of the woman they were unspokenly fighting over still pooling across the hardwood floors. Lucien glaring with restrained anger at Azriel, his masculine mating bond clogging up the air, whilst Azriel wore an impenetrable mask, hiding the bottomless torment and agony that was no doubt running rife in the shadowsinger, as he stared at the weeping puddle of Elain’s blood.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s Radio Broadcast Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 电台之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 17 May 2021 ]

[ PROLOGUE ] 

Part One: A Weekend Arrangement

On the weekend morning, I wake up contentedly, doing a big stretch on the bed. 

Feeling for my phone beside the pillow, I tap on the unread text that was received five minutes ago.

Lucien: Are you awake? Little Lazy Bug.

A small smile involuntary surfaces on my lips. Nuzzling the soft pillow case, I get up at one go, washing my face and brushing my teeth.

After fifteen minutes, I knock on Lucien’s door.

MC: Lucien, it’s me!

Not a moment later, he opens the door, wearing light-coloured home wear that I rarely see, a pair of golden-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

It’s been a while since Lucien and I last saw each other. He has been staying in the research centre recently, and I’ve been busy with filming a new show.

Since we both have a rare break, we made arrangements to meet today.

Lucien: I even thought I’d only get to see you at noon.

Upset, I look at his teasing smile.

MC: In Professor Lucien’s eyes, am I a person who doesn’t keep to her promises? I finally get to see you, so of course I’m seizing every moment.

The arcs at the corners of his lips grow deeper. He turns his body to the side, beckoning me to enter.

Following Lucien into the living room, I see several thick English books left open on the coffee table, and my shoulders droop subconsciously.

MC: Lucien, do you have work to handle today?

Lucien turns around, his eyes curving when he sees my appearance. He walks to me, then lifts my shoulders up gently.

Lucien: Of course not. I finally get to see you, so of course I have to be entirely focused.

-

Part Two: Pondering on the Play

After releasing a secret sigh of relief, I become curious regarding the books on the coffee table. Picking up one of the books, I see its name on the title page - 

MC: “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare”? Are you reading Shakespeare’s works?

Lucien: To be more accurate, I’m selecting a play.

MC: Selecting?

Lucien doesn’t respond to my question, turning around and walking into the kitchen.

Lucien: Are there any plays that you like?

MC: Hm... I can’t think of any that I especially like. All the plays I’ve watched with you seem pretty good. What about you?

Lucien: Do you still remember the play we watched called “André & Dorine”?

[Trivia] André & Dorine depicts the enduring love between an elderly couple as their lives are disrupted, but not overcome, by dementia

MC: I remember! Was it that mime theatre production? I still remember how you pondered over the guitar case on stage for a long time after the performance was over.

Lucien: I wasn’t pondering much. It’s just that after watching it, I felt that life is very short.

Lucien brings over a cup of steaming hot cocoa from the kitchen. He places the cup in my hand naturally, his eyes meeting mine.

Lucien: It has to be spent with the person one loves.

-

Part Three: A Typical Day in the Radio Broadcast Station

The temperature within the house seems to rise along with the the piping hot cocoa. I pat my slightly flushed cheeks, pulling the conversation topic back.

MC: Come to think of it, why do you have to select a play?

Lucien sits down unhurriedly, his tone steady as he gives me an answer which leaves one utterly confused.

Lucien: I need to confess something to Producer MC -

Lucien: I accepted the invitation of another radio broadcast station.

After waiting for Lucien to finish with his short “confession”, I finally understand why he has to select a play.

Two days ago, Lucien received an invitation from the Loveland Radio Broadcast Station to participate in a 520 Special Broadcast Program called “A Day in a Play”.

[Note] 520 stands for 20 May, a day celebrated by the Chinese as another Valentine’s Day. This is because 我爱你 (“wo ai ni” - “I love you”) sounds like the numbers 5, 2, and 0 (“wu er ling”) when said aloud

This program regularly invites theatre fans from various occupations to share their favourite plays, and Lucien is one of them.

Hearing such news bogs me down with mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m silently in awe at the good choice made by the radio station. On the other hand...

I sneak a peek at Lucien. His head is currently lowered as he blows on the steam of the hot cocoa, his expression levelled.

...if I were to get jealous about Lucien agreeing to participate in another show, it’d be an incredibly inconsiderate thing, right?

Just as I think about this, Lucien suddenly lifts his head towards me. He crinkles his eyes into a smile, as though he has completely seen through the little grumblings in my heart from earlier.

Lucien: Oh yes, this show requires me to invite a partner. The Great Producer MC would grace me with her presence, won’t she?

-

[ DATE ]

Lucien: “Come live with me and be my love,”

Lucien: “And we will all the pleasures prove,”

Lucien: “That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,”

Lucien: “Woods, or steepy mountains yields.”

Lucien: “And we will sit upon rocks,”

Lucien: “Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,”

Lucien: “By shallow rivers to whose falls,”

Lucien: “Melodious birds sing madrigals.”

Lucien: “...if these flights thy mind may move,”

Lucien: “Then live with me and be my love.”

Lucien: What do you think about this poem? Do you like it?

Lucien sets down the manuscript in his hand, lifting his eyes slowly.

He’s leaning next to the window of the guest lounge. The warm light of spring falls on his shoulders, creating a mild, brilliant white halo in the air.

A few days ago, Lucien invited me to participate in the 520 Special Broadcast Program called “A Day in a Play”.

The content of this show consists of idle talk related to plays, and it regularly invites theatre fans from various occupations to share about their favourite plays.

The stanza that Lucien just read aloud came from a poem written by a playwright called Christopher Marlowe. 

MC: I like it very much.

Returning to my senses, my expression is sincere as I look at him.

MC: Lucien, have you ever thought of changing occupations and becoming an actor?

When Lucien hears this, his eyes arch into a smile. He walks over, tapping the manuscript gently on the top of my head.

Lucien: An exaggerated compliment would make it lose its sincerity.

Just as I’m about to firmly express my sincerity, I notice from the corner of my eye that there are several markings on Lucien’s manuscript.

Leaning over to get a better look, I realise that those markings are notes taken down on the poem by Lucien with a pen.

I recall how he’s been incredibly busy in the previous period, and how there were many times when I had to remind him to eat...

Even so, he made notes on the manuscript regarding reciting techniques for this show. In my heart, I deeply respect his endless energy. At the same time, I can’t help but be envious.

MC: Does Professor Lucien need to do homework beforehand too?

Lucien: Techniques are required for specialised skills. I’m not a professional at reciting poetry, so of course I need to do my homework beforehand. 

I deliberately fold my arms, letting out quiet “hmph”s.

MC: But you don’t seem to do any preparations as a consultant for Miracle Finder.

Lucien: Since I’m a consultant, I can’t let the producer of the show see me do last minute work.

He draws slightly closer to me, lowering his voice.

Lucien: At a place you can’t see, I’ve always been working hard for you.

The evident slyness in his tone causes my breathing to turn slightly ragged. Clearing my throat, I put some distance between us.

MC: [blushing] That’s not what I meant...

Lucien: I understand.

Meaningful arcs hook the corners of his lips, as though he sees through the feelings in my heart. He tugs me over to sit on the sofa in the guest lounge.

Lucien: Or should I only participate in the shows you produce next time?

MC: ...I’m not asking you to go that far either!

He narrows his eyes and turns his head to the side, pretending to give it some thought. 

Lucien: In that case, I’ll always ask for Producer MC’s opinion before appearing on a show. Is that okay?

I nod, face red from his teasing. All of a sudden, my heart stirs.

MC: Verbal statements can’t be relied upon. Concrete evidence is needed.

I lift my hand, removing the small hair tie on my ponytail. Then, I indicate for Lucien to give me his hand.

He seems to guess what I plan to do. Supporting his chin casually with one hand, he stretches the other hand in front of me.

With a serious expression, I put on the hair tie on his wrist solemnly, as though I’m conducting a formal ceremony.

MC: It shall be the evidence. In future, the Professor Lucien on the big screen will be completely reserved by me!

-

After sitting in the lounge for a while, the director comes over and goes through today’s show schedule with Lucien and I briefly.

The show is segmented into reading letters from theatre fans, reciting monologues from plays, and monologue appreciation, among other things.

In every episode, this show will choose a particular theme of plays, which will then be used to expand on the contents of the show.

In order to be in line with the special day of 520, the theme for this episode has been set as the “possessiveness” between lovers.

As such, the plays and characters we selected are related to “possessiveness”.

The first segment consists of sharing letters from listeners. The show team had collected various reviews of plays from listeners, as well as their personal takeaways from the plays.

There’s only ten minutes before the show begins. Seizing this final free time, I sit in the studio, skimming through these letters briefly.

Some of the letters include analysis spanning over a thousand words on the extreme possessiveness of some classic characters in plays...

Some of the letters created a hearty one-act play based on the word “possessiveness”.

My line of sight roams over these letters, and I can sense someone leaning over from the side.

Lucien: What are you looking at?

MC: Letters from the listeners. Which letter would you like to read later?

Lucien glances at the open letters on the table for a while. Then, the corners of his lips suddenly curve upwards.

Just as I'm about to follow his line of sight, the director gives us a signal from outside, telling us that the countdown to the broadcast is about to begin.

Suppressing my curiosity, Lucien and I begin today’s radio broadcast with the guidance of the host.

-

The segment of reading letters arrives on schedule. I select a satisfactory review of a play to read. Very quickly, it’s almost time for Lucien to read a letter.

Host: Would Professor Lucien be reading an interesting review of a play as well?

Lucien picks up a pink coloured envelope in the middle directly, as though he has long since made a decision.

Lucien: Even though it isn’t a review, ever since I saw this letter before the show, I really wanted to share it with everyone. However, it looks like the owner of this letter is female. If I were to read it, I’m afraid it’d be slightly inappropriate.

Lucien turns over, handing the letter to me.

Lucien: Could I request Producer MC to read it for me?

I blink, taking the letter without knowing what’s going on.

Opening the letter, the childish handwriting brings with it a fragrance as it unfolds before my eyes.

MC: “Hello hosts, I’m a student from junior high.”

Slightly puzzled, I look at Lucien. He smiles slightly, indicating that I should continue reading.

MC: “Recently, I’ve been feeling troubled.”

MC: “Ever since coming to junior high school, my deskmate has been a very playful boy, and he always bullies me.”

MC: “He often tugs on my ponytail, or asks me to give him my seat in the canteen. Even though he gives me snacks, he says that it’s only because he doesn’t want to eat them.”

MC: “While eating his snacks one day, a classmate suddenly teased us and asked if we liked each other. At that time, I was in a fluster and shouted without realising, ‘How could I like him!’”

MC: “Ever since then... my deskmate hasn't spoken to me.”

MC: “I thought I’d be really happy since I’m freed from his bullying. But whenever I see him distributing snacks to other girls, I actually feel the impulse to cry.”

MC: “I even secretly placed his snacks on my own table, pretending that my deskmate gave them to me...”

MC: “ --so that I can attempt to stake my claim in front of other girls.”

MC: “Last week, I watched a stage play, and the experiences of the lead character were somewhat similar to mine.”

MC: “Afterwards, I read the reviews. Everyone was saying that the lead character was fiercely possessive, and a little abnormal...”

MC: “Am I also such a person? What counts as being possessive? Is being possessive truly an illness?”

After reading the last line, I lift my head to meet Lucien’s eyes, giving him a knowing smile.

Host: I didn’t expect Professor Lucien to select such an adorable letter. How would you respond to this young listener’s question?

Lucien: I’m very sorry, but I’m unable to respond. This question might require a consultation with a professional. But I once read a document on concepts in psychology related to “possessiveness”, and I could share it with everyone.

Lucien stretches his hand towards me, and I hand the letter to him in tacit understanding. 

He unfolds the letter, casually lifting his spectacles. Then, he lowers his hand, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the table.

The sound of tapping stops abruptly. He lifts his hand to support his lips, then tilts his head slightly, as though recalling the contents of the document.

Lucien: The following information is for everyone’s reference. Possessiveness is typically expressed as an exceptional cherishing of the other party, and being concerned about the other party in various aspects of their life.

For some inexplicable reason, along with Lucien’s words, I suddenly recall scenes of myself heading to the research centre to bring him bentos.

Lucien: Only allowing oneself and the other party to have a connection, and not wishing for others to get close to the other party.

My heart once again inexplicably recalls the bitter taste when I heard of Lucien participating in this show. 

Lucien: If one finds that the other party no longer belongs to them, they’d use all sorts of methods to stake their claim.

Lucien appears to deliberately twist his wrist slightly, revealing the small hair tie on it.

...I have a feeling that Lucien is implicitly referring to me. I keep my eyes on Lucien, and can’t help but purse my lips.

He seems to sense my “complaint”, but his eyes remain on the letter in his hand, a smile on his lips tugging upwards.

Lucien: This is simply a definition, and isn’t enough to ascertain the intensity of a person’s possessiveness. However, satisfying one’s possessiveness in an appropriate manner isn’t a bad thing. If possessiveness is unable to obtain a suitable outlet, it’d end up violently engulfing the originally balanced love. Furthermore, possessiveness isn’t a disease.

Lucien sets down the letter. As though sensing my gaze, he turns his head and gives me a slight smile.

Lucien: It accompanies a strong love. It’s a human instinct. 

-

After the letter reading segment, Lucien, as the main guest, has to read a monologue from a certain play in the next segment.

This play narrates an account in mid-century Europe, involving the love story of a wealthy lady and a butler who grew up together since young.

This butler was naturally more intelligent than others, and had a composed temperament. If he were to craft a career for himself, he’d do far better than being a butler.

However, in order stay by the side of his beloved lady, he was willing to remain within the four walls.

The naive wealthy lady didn’t understand the genuine feelings of the butler. Like every other wealthy lady, she looked forward to marrying her own prince. 

But when she was arranged to get married to a wealthy duke, her heart started to waver.

Because the intensity of the butler’s possessiveness went to his head, he eventually poisoned the wealthy lady, then vanished into the night.

With his own hands, he buried the love of his life, and from then on became a fugitive, living a life that was neither dead nor alive.

The monologue that Lucien is about to read is taken from the part after the butler finds out that the lady is inclined to marrying the duke. It’s the first time he reveals the depth of his possessiveness. 

Lucien selected this monologue himself, and I can’t help but anticipate it.

Host: Listeners and friends, we’ll now lend our ears to Professor Lucien -

Lucien nods slightly, tilting his head towards me and blinking slowly. His lowered voice gradually seeps into the earpieces.

Lucien: “I thought she was just a canary which would only sit by the window...”

Lucien: ��When the sun rises every morning, she’d be at the glass window, facing the blazing sunlight and preening its feathers to its heart’s content.”

Rich affection is in Lucien’s voice. It’s as though I can see a talented and handsome young man staring at the girl’s back in the room with deep feelings.

Lucien: “Her wings are vibrant and heart-stirring. She spends a lot of time on them, combing them gently with a bristle brush.”

Lucien: “Whenever this happens, I’d stand behind her, carrying a cup of hot tea, waiting for her quietly.”

Lucien: “I know that in this moment, she belongs only to me.”

Lucien’s voice suddenly turns soft and barely discernible. I can’t help but be immersed in it -

The modern studio around me suddenly shifts, as though turning into wooden furniture in Western Europe.

Ripples of colour reflect off the windows and onto the floor, glistening with light. An expensive fragrance of rogue diffuses in the room.

Lucien: “Only I know what she's thinking of, and only I understand everything about her.”

I turn my head to Lucien, who is behind me. He’s wearing a fitting suit, standing at a spot where shadows and light mingle.

Lucien: “We will be forgotten in this place by the world, but the strings of fate will tie us together.”

He suddenly pauses, the intermingling of shadows and light distorting his expression into shreds. He trembles slightly in the darkness.

Lucien: “...before meeting that duke, she was always in front of that glass window, being my bird.”

Lucien: “She should realise that if she were to fly out, she would have cuts and bruises all over from those impetuous dandies.”

Lucien: “She would discover that there is an entire sky of canaries which are just as beautiful and frail as her. Those dandies only have to reach out gently--”

Lucien: “And her beloved feathers would be easily plucked out.”

Lucien: “If this is the ending... if this is the only ending...”

Lucien: “Then her feathers should belong to me.”

When I see his calm and shadowed expression, I hold my breath momentarily.

Lucien: “Only belonging to me.”

The monologue ends.

-

Lucien: In the short span of one minute, you’ve already hesitated to say something to me five times.

Lucien sighs, setting down the cup of water in his hand.

After the monologue ended, the subsequent segments no longer involve the guests that much.

Lucien and I have left the studio earlier, and are sitting on the sofa in the lounge, waiting for the show to officially come to an end.

It’s just that... ever since we stepped out of the studio and I saw Lucien returning to his normal state, my heart has had difficulties making the adjustment.

MC: ...I was just so stunned.

Tickled by the exaggerated tone in my voice, Lucien chuckles softly.

Lucien: I’ll take that as a compliment. 

MC: Of course it’s a compliment! I didn’t expect you to perform so well. You were basically an entirely different person earlier!

Lucien: I was simply portraying the role as I understood it. But I accept Producer MC’s compliment.

He takes a shallow sip of tea calmly, returning to how Lucien typically is, and completely different from the butler he was acting as earlier.

Seeing him like this, a question suddenly surfaces in my heart -

I wonder what Lucien’s possessiveness looks like?

-

Director: Sorry for the wait! The two of you have worked hard today!

After the show ends, the director returns to the lounge, carrying a stack of manuscripts in his hand.

Director: The responses for today’s show are extremely good! Many thanks to Professor Lucien and Miss MC for the spectacular performance!

Lucien: We’re also grateful for your invitation to participate in this show.

Director: Professor Lucien is too polite. Both of you truly did very well. The comment board for the show is filled with positive remarks. To tell you the truth, there’s something I need to ask of the two of you.

The director unfolds the manuscript in his hand. Lucien and I lower our heads to look at it. It’s the script from that earlier play.

Director: We’d like to include a special 520 Easter egg for this episode’s theme. It would be the final scene between the butler and the wealthy lady. Earlier, Professor Lucien’s monologue left a deep impression on the listeners, and the responses were very enthusiastic. If possible, could you and Producer MC record this Easter egg today?

The director clasps his hands together, inviting Lucien sincerely. However, Lucien turns his line of sight to me.

Lucien: My rights to participate in a show belong to this lady. If she agrees, I’ll naturally have no issues with it.

The director looks over in confusion. Just as Lucien is about to showcase the hair tie with a dead serious expression, I hurriedly agree.

MC: Yes! We can!

The director unclasps his hands quickly, preparing for the recording of the Easter egg. Lucien and I remain in the studio to go over the lines.

After familiarising myself with my lines, I lift my head, realising that Lucien is leaning against the sofa, reading the script meticulously and silently.

Seeing him look so serious, I suddenly become curious again.

MC: Lucien, could I ask you a question?

Lucien: Does it have to do with why I agreed to participate in this show?

MC: ...as expected, I can’t hide anything from you.

He sets down the manuscript, grinning as he tidies the hair at my ear.

Lucien: I simply care about you exceptionally. I’m guessing that what you want to know even more is why I’d bring you along to participate in this show.

My eyes widen slightly, and I give him a thumbs up.

He chuckles after seeing this. Waves of gentleness ripple in those eyes that have always been difficult to read.

Lucien: I know that we differ from others in the way we’re always handling our own matters. It’s difficult to meet, much less have each others’ time. I also know that you’re always doing your best to give your free time to me -

Lucien: Bringing me bentos with plenty of dishes, attending conferences when I release new books, and taking me to see the spring day in your eyes.

Lucien: So, I want to tell you that whether or not you can see it, I’m also doing my best to own every moment of your free time.

Lucien: To me, participating in this show is akin to watching a movie together. I simply want it to be a special moment for us which belongs only to you and me. 

He leans down, drawing closer to me, encasing my surroundings with his unique scent.

Looking into his eyes, a wave of gentleness seems to ripple in my heart, and my cheeks flush slightly.

MC: I’ll also do my best to create special moments belonging only to the both of us. I’ll invite Professor Lucien to look forward to them.

Lucien: You being like this is already good enough.

The corners of his eyes turn upwards, and he puts some distance between us.

Lucien: Let’s go over the lines together. The director’s waiting for us to record the Easter egg.

I nod. Taking a deep breath, I return my focus to the script again.

In the final scene between the butler and the wealthy lady, the wealthy lady is holding a love letter she wrote to the duke, naively wanting the butler to polish her writing.

Even though she senses that she shouldn’t let the butler see this letter, he’s the person she trusts most.

In front of the butler, she’s like a young girl experiencing her first awakening of love as she reads the love letter aloud.

The butler, whose unbridled possessiveness and intense jealousy have rushed to his head, finally poisons his beloved in his arms after she reads the final line.

Using a letter from a listener as a prop, I place it in his hand and begin the monologue.

MC: “You must definitely listen to this letter...”

MC: “It contains my heartfelt sincerity. No matter what, I don’t want there to be any mistakes.”

Lucien: "If you read it to me, it will be your first mistake.”

MC: “Please! You’ve never refused anything I ask of you. I’ll just treat it as tacit consent, just like always!”

MC: “Dearest Great Duke...”

MC: “I’m writing this letter to you, and it contains my sincerity...”

Following the script, I read the letter written to the duke.

MC: “...and with this, I look forward to your reply.”

These are the final words on the letter. Following this, there are a series of stage directions.

“The wealthy lady grips her love letter, brimming with anticipation as she stares out of the window. The butler is silent, handing her a cup of hot tea as he usually does.”

“The lady drinks it without putting up any defences, but doesn’t know that he had poisoned this cup. The love letter floats to the ground, and she falls into the butler’s arms.”

“...he speaks into her ear: ‘You belong only to me.’ The canary in his arms twitches for a while, then never stirs again.”

Seeing the tragic ending of this love story, my heart can’t help but sigh.

The butler’s love made him lose his mind. In order to possess his beloved forever, he pushed both himself and her into hell with his own hands.

I recall the scene from before when Lucien was reading the monologue, and how he usually has eyes as calm as a deep pond.

That earlier thought once again surfaces in my mind -

I wonder what Lucien’s possessiveness looks like?

Just when I’m thinking about this, I feel a forceful tug on my arm.

I stumble, then fall into familiar arms. 

Puzzled, I turn my head towards Lucien. A sense of restraint is concealed in his eyes, and the unfathomable dark eyes hold within them intense emotions. 

Lucien: “This letter will never be sent, just as the bird will forever remain in her cage.”

Lucien takes a deep breath, leaning his weight against my body.

I feel scorching breaths on my exposed shoulders, and his hand brushes against my lips gently.

Lucien: “You can only belong to me.”

A familiar scent cages me in his embrace. For a moment, I’m unable to tell if the person before me is the butler who went mad because of love, or if he’s Lucien himself.

I abruptly return to my senses - the performance should already be over.

However, Lucien doesn’t let go of me, as though he hasn’t disengaged from the performance. 

Just as I prepare to remind him that it’s over, he suddenly leans near, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of my lips.

Lucien: Very sweet. I’m referring to the taste of the tea.

Stunned, I look at Lucien - he’s changing the ending of the script...

While he looks at me, the foreign emotions in his eyes suddenly vanish. Then, he crinkles his eyes into a smile, just like how he smiles at me every time.

I already knew that I couldn't hide anything from him.

This is his response to that question I’ve never asked -

Lucien: The person I want to possess will eventually possess me.

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[sweetfierceimagines]

PART1/ It was supposed to be simple.  Ricky x Reader (HSMTM)

Hello everyone, I’ve been trying really hard to write lately, and it has been very complicated. I think you all understand, when everything is not ok in someone’s life, that someone kind of loses it.

But I decided to fight that, I least trying !

I discovered the series High School Musical the Musical and even though I’m 24 and supposed to be over this kind of drama, I’M CLEARLY NOT.

Synopsis : Reader is a student, she’s not technically involved in the Musical like everyone else, but she helps with costumes making and set management. Ricky gets to know her and even though he really wants to get Nini back and has a whole plan for it, life decides to mess with him, and he gets involved in a new sentimental obsession.

Warnings : none. Probably not my best writing, please be kind to me.. Just a lot of fluff and teenage drama ! Enjoy <3

Tell me if you want this to carry on ! I’ll be glad to write a part 2 if you like it :)

RICKY POV/

Here he was, playing Troy Bolton in this Musical. He would never have done it if it wasn’t for Nini.

He understood her, understood her pain, understood why she chose that stupid E.J. But he was not going to abandon. It was not because he didn’t reply that he didn’t mean it. 

So he enroled (quite amazingly by the way) in this musical. He was dancing, singing, acting.. He never thought it could actually be this fun and exhausting. He seemed to be reaching Nini’s heart more and more each day, as she was also realising that EJ was not as perfect as he pretended to be.

But something was about to mess up all his plans.

READER POV/

The school was all about that Musical. It seemed as if every other activity and class was less important and didn’t deserve that much attention. Y/N was not a singer, not a dancer. She didn’t play any instrument, she didn’t like to be under the spotlights.

She was all about reading, writing and creating. So when the art class shut down for “fund purposes” (basically meaning this musical was costing the school too much), she had to find another way to create. 

So she went for it. Asked Miss Jenn if she needed someone for her costumes and decor management, and simply started to work on the set. She wasn’t the only one working on costumes and on stage management, but she clearly was the best of the team.

And it was appreciated.

After just a few weeks, she was named “stage and costume director”, whatever that means. Even though she was pretending she didn’t care, it sort of made her feel validated, and allowed her to create as much as she wanted to, which was pretty amazing. 

RICKY POV/

It was one of these days.

Everything seemed to fall apart. His parents were ending their relationship, his mom would probably leave for a long time, Nini still supported EJ even though he was making mistakes for which she would have dumped him..

He felt like everything he was doing was not good enough and it was hard to deal with. He was not usually shy with his feelings, but this time he didn’t feel like sharing. So he stayed late, very late, at school, and waited for everyone to leave stage to show up.

He was sure no one was there, so he let his emotions speak and just let it out. He started by talking to himself, making moves and being loud. He was talking about his family, his fear of being abandonned, his fear of never being loved again, the pain of knowing he lost Nini because he didn’t deserve her back there, the impression that EJ was a better man than he was.. he could go for hours.

And then he started singing.

A couple sentences from numerous songs. Songs about love, songs about pain, songs about courage. He closed his eyes and sang his heart out. It was beautiful, strong, sincere. It would have tear anyone’s heart.

And it did.

READER POV/

Y/N was staying late, as usual. She had a special authorisation from Miss Jenn and the Dean to stay extra hours backstage, working of costumes or just on personnal projects.

At school at least, she didn’t have to deal with noise, with family issues of with anything that could poison her creativity.

She was painting when she heard a noise.

Startled, she sort of went in panic mode, imagining a hundred scenarios in which she would get in troubles. She walked smoothly to the stage entrance and remained out of sight while looking at the boy who played Troy basically loosing his mind on stage.

She could have told him that he was not alone, she was actually about to signal her presence out of respect for what he was revealing, when he started singing.

It made Y/N go numb, as if she left her body and could feel her soul burning of compassion. His voice was everything, his face was everything.

She didn’t realise, but she was crying silently.

After a couple minutes, she realised she was actually holding her breath. She breathed heavily and stumbled, making Ricky realise he was not alone at all.

The boy jumped and fell down, hurting himself quite badly.

Y/N came rushing at him, feeling terribly sorry for what happened.

RICKY POV/

- Man ! Couldn’t you say you were here?!

Ricky was flaming red, embarrassed that someone heard everything. He looked at this girl’s face and it honestly took him a few seconds to remember who she was. Yes, she was on stage pretty much each day, but at some point he got so obsessed with the Musical and Nini that he completly forgot about the environment he was evolving in.

She was pretty, her Y/E/C eyes looking terrified and guilty, and it seemed as she cried recently, her eyes a bit red.

He stood up and winced, lifting his shirt a bit to realise he was going to get bruses all over his chest and stomach.

- I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt or even listen. Seriously, I was going to tell you, i’m not a creep. Well, not that kind at least..

- Yeah? You were going to? Seems like you had plenty of time.

He sighed and headed backstage to inspect his clothes and body in the miror, assessing at bad it was.

Y/N followed, staying a few meters away to give him some space. She didn’t say anything, feeling guilty enough.

Ricky took his shirt out completly, looking at his body. Y/N could tell he was contracting a bit his abs and arms and let out a silent laugh. She observed for a couple minutes and finally talked.

- You riped your shirt a bit.

Ricky turned, facing her, looking anoyed, and lifted his arms.

- No joke ! Who’s falt is it?

- You’re the one who fell dude.

He opened his mouth to answer right back but her cheekiness cheered him a bit, and he simply nodded his head.

- Yeah, I’ll blame gravity next time I see her. A real troublemaker that one.

He looked at his shirt and sighed. He didn’t know anything about sewing and his mom would probably have other things to do. Too bad, it was his favorite old school shirt.

Y/N stretched her hand toward him and he gave her his shirt. Still shirtless, he looked as she sat down where it seemed like she was staying most of the time, in a corner with painting all over, needles and fabric. She grabed one needle, easily got the thread in and started sewing, with a hand technique that showed how used to it she was.

He looked around, noticing one painting that seemed to still be in progress. He got closer, reaching his hand to it.

- Don’t ! It’s wet, I was on it when I heard you.

He turned around, looking at her in another way. She was pretty impressive, painting stuff, sewing shirts and managing a stage so well people didn’t even realised she was here.

- That’s sick.

He said with a smile.

She looked back at him and nodded, smiling at him too.

- Thanks. I usually plan what I’m going to do but this one.. it just came to me.

He looked closer, noticing a female silouette, somehow looking cut in some parts. Not cut as stabbed, but cut as split in different sections.

- What do you think it is?

Y/N said while carrying on her sewing. She acted as she was not looking at him, but each time he got his attention back at the painting, she would look at him, trying to anticipate his reactions.

- Hum.. It’s a.. it’s a woman? Right?

He would turn to her, as if he was looking for her validation for each word he said. She simply nodded, encouraging him to carry on.

- It’s a woman, and this woman is split. She.. Maybe because she went through a lot, maybe the different sections represent different emotions? Different moments of her life?

He remained silent for a second and looked with intensity at the painting. His eyebrows frown and he suddently looked sad.

- Maybe because she can’t be whole again. She has to be split. She has to try to deal with these conflicting emotions, these ups and downs. Maybe people tell her she should be grateful, and happy, and she should move on. But she can’t, because life cut her in several pieces.

And a tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N stood up, mooving carefully toward him, and put a gentle hand on his (still naked) shoulder. She could feel him shaking a bit, deeply moved by what he felt from the painting. 

- Ricky.. it’s ok.

He turned, facing her, his eyes still filled with tears. He didn’t quite knew why, but he didn’t feel like looking anything but himself with her. After all, she knew how he was feeling, she heard what he said, and she felt what he felt.

The way she was looking at him.. Conforting, warm, yet terrifying. She understood.

He put his hand on hers, squeezing it as if it would make him feel better. He was here, facing her, hand on hand, eyes to eyes.

Suddenly, the speaker went on, the voice of a security guy telling “Miss Y/N, time to close the school. Sorry”

This sort of broke the moment. They broke the physical contact and she gave him his shirt back. They both gathered their stuff and silently headed to the front door, thanking the security guard for his patience.

They smiled at each other and Ricky waved goodbye, whatching as she was quitely leaving of her bike.

[namixart]

Some miscellaneous Distant Worlds thoughts and highlights!

I spent the entire concert either crying, grinning, getting goosebumps, or all three. 12/10

The Rebel Army Theme from FFII during the I-III 2002 Medley BANGS SEVERELY with a live orchestra, holy shit.

The screen was playing scenes from the games and for FFI it was literally either overworld walking or random battles lmao.

The "Spoony Bard" moment from FFIV and Sabin suplexing a train in FFVI both appeared and that makes me happy. Glad to see that memes endure.

The Chocobo Theme part of the I-III medley is distilled joy. It was SO bouncy and fun!

Arnie Roth (the conductor) is really fun I love him. He just gave me good vibes.

The first half of the concert concluded with a brand new battle medley for FFI-VI and it BANGS. The arrangement for the FFIV battle theme is super chill and I'm in love. And then the FFVI part hits and it hits HARD.

They showed FFVIICC Reunion, FFXVI, and Stranger of Paradise trailers during the intermission, but nothing really new.

The second half of the concert opened with FFVIII's Liberi Fatali. I'd realised it was coming because the choir was suddenly there and I'd spotted it in the booklet, but not everyone knew, so the whole hall was like "Ooohh" when the choir started singing. A lot of people also forgot that the song doesn't end on the big note but has a bit of a resolution after and so they started clapping early haha.

While the first half of the concert was either chronological or did medleys, the second half had Roth introduce every segment like "And now, a fan-favourite song from FFVII-X. But first, a DIFFERENT song from another game!"

"Okay, now we're gonna play a classic, Aerith's theme! [cheers] Yeah yeah I know, we're all excited for Remake part 2. Where is it, Square? Anyway, Aerith's theme. But first, Ragnarok, from FFXI!" Tease.

The scenes for Aerith's theme played like a tribute to her and included so many Clerith scenes too, on top of her death scene. Tears.

Rikki, the original vocalist for FFX, sang Suteki Da Ne and I think I've unlocked something spiritually.

Yoko Shimomura was there, and I'd known this in advance, but I hadn't expected to get so emotional about it. Obviously she was there as the composer of FFXV, but she's had such a huge role in my childhood as the composer of Kingdom Hearts that every time I remembered she was actually there, like, in the same room as me and I could see her from my seat, I teared up something awful. Thank you, Ms Shimomura, thank you so much.

They did a fake-out after the Main Theme of Final Fantasy. It was the last *named* song on the programme and they showed the credits, but there were two more songs marked with question marks in the tour booklet, so I knew it wasn't over. Roth left the stage for ten seconds and came back for To Zanarkand.

Obviously, live orchestra To Zanarkand is a religious experience.

After that, the choir stood up and I was chanting "One-Winged Angel One-Winged Angel One-Winged Angel" under my breath. And then it WAS and all the lights went red on the first note literally iconic 15/10 this is what One-Winged Angel deserves.

I *bawled* during the entirety of Not Alone and To Zanarkand, and had to try very hard not to make a sound.

During To Zanarkand, the screen showed a scene of Tidus crying and I was like yeah buddy me too.

As it turned out, I was sliiiightly overdressed in a nice dress and heels in a sea of people wearing merch t-shirts and hoodies. They were correct though, I am INTENSELY jealous of every single piece of merch I saw. But there WAS someone else dressed to the nines, as I spotted a full Remake Wall Market Red Dress Aerith. I also saw one Remake Wall Market Sporty Tifa and two closet cosplay Aeriths, as well as someone wearing Cloud's AC outfit and someone in a Zack wig. There were also a lot of people in what I assume were FFXIV cosplays, but I wouldn't know better haha.

Again, just the experience of being there, together with so many people who have something in common with you, was overwhelming. I guess it's something similar to being at a normal concert, or a big sports event, but the big difference here is that we weren't there *just* for the music for its own sake. We're all fans of the *stories* that the music helps to tell, and that's really special if you ask me.

I bought the FFVIIR Orchestral Arrangement CD (a stupid purchase, as I don't own a CD player, but it gave me so much serotonin), the concert t-shirt, and the tour booklet with interviews and insights. A minute of silence for the Tonberry, Cactuar, Chocobo, and Moogle plushies that I had to leave behind because they wouldn't fit inside my luggage.

While I was in Victoria Coach Station, four whole hours early for my bus (rough day and night), I pored over the tour booklet and I was moved to tears again. These people all put so much love and care into the songs and the concert, and I couldn't be more thankful for all of them.

Also, Distant Worlds Coral is a pun. 35 (as in, 35th anniversary) in Japanese is read "san, go," and "sango" means "coral." Also a play on "choral" music. Everyone here is a dweeb oh my god.

Before the concert, a friend of mine asked me which songs I was expecting to make me cry. While I was wrong in that *every song* made me cry, the only songs on my list that didn't happen were Terra's Theme and the Main Theme of FFVII. Aerith's Theme, Not Alone, To Zanarkand, Main Theme of Final Fantasy, Prelude? All accounted for.

The second I landed in Stansted I found out that Distant Worlds is going to be in Rome in February and YOU KNOW WHAT.

I think that's all? 17/10 amazing spectacular showstopping I'm gonna be thinking about it for the rest of my life have a good day.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[migilini]

What The Heart Wants - Charlie Gillespie

Request: The reader is madly in love with Charlie who is her best friend but he’s dating and in love with her sister yk? Make it angst and sadcharlie

a/n: Sorry it took me so long! I’m so stressed with school atm so i bearly had time to write at all. I still hope you like it and that I went into the right direction. Don’t know how angsty it is.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: a little angst

MASTERLIST

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

As a teenager you spent a lot of your free time watching pretty much every rom-com that was out there, the thought of true love ignited a spark of hope in your heart. You loved the way that the characters on screen always were meant to be together, the way their love just seemed to be or else life isn't worth living.

Maybe your image of love was flawed and unrealistic. Maybe you always fell in love with the idea of a person rather than the person itself. Maybe your standards were too high and maybe that's why all your previous relationships didn't seem to work out.

And then you met him. Kinda ironic really, love, at first sight, was always your least favourite trope. But there he was, sitting alone at the table in the otherwise crowded cafeteria. His brown hair fell into his eyes while he played with the mashed potatoes on his plate, he was bopping his head to something. You took a big breath, collected all your courage that you didn't use growing up and sat down across from him.

The stranger looked up with furrowed eyebrows "S-sorry there isn't another free table." you stuttered and sent him a small, flustered smile. The boy took out an earbud "Sorry?" you started to blush, your eyes wide "Oh I- sorry I- was uhm... is it okay if I sit here?"

"Yeah yeah sure." the stranger answered and shot you a smile and gosh was that smile beautiful. If this was your way to die then so be it. "I'm Asher by the way."

"Y/N. Nice to meet you." you waved with three fingers.

After that Asher took you under his wings, introduced you to all his friends, took you to parties and most importantly helped to grow your self-confidence. You always knew who you were but with him, it was the first time where you could actually show off the real you, there wasn't a part of you that you had to hide to fit in.

Nevertheless, he wasn't your best friend. You two spent a lot of time together yes, but you didn't share a lot of secrets, your topics always being superficial. Yet, the crush on him only grew. The two of you were picture book perfect. Asher threw you into the water at the beach, screamed to lyrics in the car with you or even went shopping with you.

"Just this one party I promise," he whined one day, shoving more dresses in your chest. You huffed "Is this why you agreed to come thrifting with me? To get on my good side?" Asher smiled cheekily "Guilty. I know you don't know the people there but I really want you to go." he tried to persuade.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. You liked to see him throw a little tantrum. "Fine. But you'll pay for my dress."

The host of the party seemed nice enough and you hoped to god that the guests were the same. LED Lights illuminated the living room in a dark purple. The music blaring so loud, that you could feel the beat in your heart. "Y/N this is my good buddy Charlie. Charlie this is Y/N one of the baddest people I know." Asher screamed over the music, one of his arms draped over your figure. The party just getting started as more people walked through the front door.

You gave Charlie a hug and smiled up at him. "Hi!"

"Hello." he smiled back and your breath got stuck in your throat for a good second. Suddenly Asher had competition for the prettiest smile in the world. The boy with the mischievous spark in his eye really challenged your rankings.

You didn't intend to spend the night practically glued to Charlies hip. Asher was nowhere to be found, probably smoking somewhere with his buddies and the two of you were just naturally drawn to each other. He goes to get a new drink and a minute later, without discussing it beforehand, you do the exact same thing. Or you go on the small balcony to get some fresh air and Charlie joins you a couple of minutes later, casually leaning against the railing next to you.

"I figured that I would find you out here." he nearly whispered into the night. "Yeah it seems like you've been stalking me the whole night." you teased with raised eyebrows, a slight smirk playing on your lips. Charlie's hand immediately covered his heart. "I would never! And there I was, thinking I had the honour of you stalking me."

"Alright, Teds. If it makes you happy yes of course I was chasing after your pretty ass." you winked and he let out a heartful laugh.

"Teds?" he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders and slid down the railing, your front, facing the glass doors. The party inside was raging, with people dancing, kissing, talking and laughing. Only the faint noise of the newest pop song carried its way out to you.

"You're wearing a shirt with many teddy bears on it. It only made sense."

You and Charlie spent the rest of the night outside, the conversation flowing naturally and if there was a quick silence it wasn't awkward at all. Lucky for you, the party was in the middle of the summer so you didn't mind that much that you forgot to bring a jacket outside.

After the party you and Charlie spent a lot of time together, going to museums, road trips, camping or even just hanging out in one of your apartments. Inert weeks he was your best friend and over the years of friendship, you started to develop feelings for the Canadian.

He had helped you calm down right before your first date with Asher, who finally had the guts to ask you out and picked up the pieces after you got broken up with. Asher's last words before he left, never leaving your mind: "Truthfully I think you're in love with someone else Y/N. You just haven't figured it out yet but I know. I look at you the way you look at them."

Several months later, on a trip with your family and Charlie, you realised that Asher was indeed telling you the truth and you had been slowly falling for someone else.

It was late evening, the stars started to creep up on the sky, while the sun sank lower and lower behind the trees, illuminating the world in a pretty blend of oranges and pinks. The group sat around a small fire that cracked every now and then, filling the air with warmth. Everybody was exhausted from the big hike. Trees rustled somewhere in the background. A soft melody caught you off guard, completely ripping you out of your own thoughts.

Charlie sat a couple of feet away from you, across from your sister and mother. He was playing his guitar with no special song in mind. He settled on a melody that you didn't seem to recognize but you didn't care. Charlie looked beautiful.

Over the last year, he grew out his hair, which was now in a loose bun in the crook of his neck, some stray hairs falling in his face. The warm light from the fire highlighted his features in the exact right way. His eyes sparkled with joy. Before he started to sing the song, he looked over at you and smiled. It was the same smile that haunted you since then. The one that made your heart beat faster, the one that still took your breath away, the thing you couldn't shake off and also the one thing you couldn't live without.

While you stared at Charlie during the duration of the song, your heart swelling at the sight of him. He did the same to your sister. His eyes memorising every crook of her face from her arched eyebrows down to the roundness of her lips.

It didn't surprise you at all. Growing up everybody either wanted to be her or be with her. She was naturally gorgeous with long, luscious hair and an amazing body. She had decent grades and was always nice to everybody. The embodiment of the girl next door. It was hard to build a reputation that wasn't ‘Sam’s little sister’.

Looking back, that was probably why you liked Asher's attention so much. It was the first time someone saw you for yourself.

But what did shock you was that eventually, the two became a couple. Looks-wise they fit perfectly together that much was true but you couldn't wrap your head around them when it came to personality. From your romcoms, you knew that opposites attract yet Sam and Charlie are more than opposites. Not to say that you didn't love your sister, you really did, that was the main reason why the news shocked you so much. He liked to travel the world, not to be tied to one place for a long time. He was spontaneous and carefree, always down for a new adventure or a new adrenaline kick. Sam on the other hand wanted to take over dad's business in her hometown where she already went to school and college. Ever since she was little, she dreamed of a big family that was gonna grow up in the house she grew up in. Sam didn't like leaving her little bubble, her days always planned down to the second.

Neither of them noticed your heart breaking a little more every time they kissed right in front of you or the longing looks you gave Charlie. Both tried to include you in their adventures, taking you to the cinema with them, to IKEA and Disneyland. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't quite meant for each other. However, you kept your mouth shut just, always smiling their way, not mentioning that Charlie never went on Road Trips anymore or that Sam seemed to smile less.

“I think I want to marry her.”

You nearly spat out your drink, the fist in front of your mouth only holding back a little. The water dripped down your arm and onto the couch.

“What now?” you coughed and turned to the other person chilling at your apartment.

“You heard me right. My acting career is taking off and all the travelling made me realise that she is the one.” he smiled with a lopsided grin.

You furrowed your eyebrows, desperately trying to hide the hurt that flashed in your eyes. After trying, again and again, to get over Charlie you lost all hope. No other man even slightly compared to him, you tried to forget about him you really did. However, your heart believes that he was the man for you.

“Don’t the two of you want completely different things?” you switched into the best-friend mode, locking the jealous side away.

Now it was Charlie's turn to be confused, “What do you mean? We’ve been together for nearly two years now.”

“I just mean that she never expressed the desire to travel the world. She wants to have a big family and be a mom. Is she gonna travel to your jobs with you? Are you giving up your career to be at home with her? I just think there are so many things the two of you need to discuss before you take this step.” you expressed your concern while playing with the hem of the blanket covering you.

He stared at you for moments. Neither of you was speaking, the gears in his brain working in overload.

“Look I’m not saying that you shouldn't ask her to marry you. If that's what makes you happy, be happy. It's what I care about. I’m just saying you have a completely different view of the world.” you rambled, your eyes not meeting his anymore.

Was he mad? He normally spoke his thoughts out loud.

He lets out a sigh as he rubbed his hands over his face “Yes I know that you're right...but my gut is telling me that she's the one...” your heart cracked “and I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't ask, even if it ends up not working and you were right with your concerns. But knowing us, we will make it work. Compromise a lot, build a worldview together as a married couple.”

He smiled at you and your heartbeat quickened “I also kinda need your blessing.” he sheepishly said, slightly biting his lip.

You tried to keep your thoughts clear. “My blessing?”

Charlie nodded excitedly “Yes! I figured since you’re my best friend and she's also your sister I would ask you if you would be okay with that… I know we never asked if you're comfortable with us dating in the first place.”

“Oh, Teds," you whined, using the old nickname you had for him. "No need to ask me! As I said your happiness is my priority.” you smiled so wide that it hurt your cheeks, blinking rapidly to dissolve the tears that formed in your eyes.

He tackled you in a bone-crushing hug, placing wet and sloppy kisses all over your forehead. “Thank you. thank you. thank you! You don't know how much this means to me!”

Growing up, watching the Notebook, About Time, 10 things to hate about you, PS: I love you and many others, love always seemed inevitable, somehow it would work out. You would've never thought that you would be jealous of your sister's engagement. Who would have predicted that both sisters were gonna fall for the same guy, that one sister was happy while the other hated herself for yearning for him as well?

The 25-year-old version of you despised the 15-year-old version for loving these goddamn rooms, for believing in a soulmate, one true love, love for everyone but mostly for believing in an own happy ending.

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

Taglist: @alluringworld

[zenonaa]

'Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.'

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Kirigiri Kyouko, Asahina Aoi, Hagakure Yasuhiro Additional Tags: TogaFuka Week 2021 Summary: Togami and the others stumble across a photograph of him smiling, but he can't remember the context so the others try to figure out what happened for him to do that.

Comments: owo what's this? togafuka week day 1: happiness! i haven't actually written something for all the days but this is one of the things that i did manage to squeeze out.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

Cleaning up Hope’s Peak wasn’t an afternoon affair. Beyond the old school building that Byakuya knew too intimately, debris clogged hallways, trash lay scattered throughout the campus like weeds and the air smelled of rust and blood. The group of seven started with the art building on the east side of campus. For the first few hours, Yasuhiro hummed as he hauled cardboard boxes, Komaru still had the patience to prepare and bring lemonade, and Aoi’s sunshine voice beamed between walls as she shared a story about the time her family held a second-hand sale in their backyard.

By the end of the day, however, their lively chatter had dimmed with the sky. Inside remained as bright thanks to Byakuya and Yasuhiro reconnecting the electricity, but darkening windows reminded them of the aches in their limbs, the ebbing flames behind their eyes. Byakuya swept his gaze across what used to be a theatre but was currently a sorting room filled with boxes instead of chairs. Makoto, Touko, Komaru and Yasuhiro were sitting together on boxes, while Kyouko and Aoi had just walked in with a dirty wheelbarrow.

“We should adjourn until the morning,” Byakuya announced. He reached a hand toward his glasses, intending to push them up, but stopped himself when he remembered the grime clinging to his palms. Not wanting to dirty his glasses, he lowered his hand.

The Byakuya of the past would have deemed this sort of manual labour beneath him, yet he had willingly spent most of that day working alongside his companions. His friends. How things changed.

“There is so much stuff,” said Aoi, who by now had parked the wheelbarrow and was slouched against it. She wiped her vest against her forehead.

“And not a lot of it is useful,” added Kyouko, next to Aoi. Yasuhiro straightened up.

“Nonsense. All we need to do is spruce them up, and they’ll be ready to go on sale.” He walked over to a broken lamp, its shade bitten and discoloured, as dirty as the floor it lay on. “Like this lamp. Fix this up, and it’ll be as good as new. Then all we need is a good pitch and b’am,” he punched his palm, “sold.”

“You can’t do that with everything here,” said Komaru. He put his hands onto his hips.

“Not with that attitude! But with the right mindset, you could sell anything here, guaranteed.”

Yasuhiro rubbed his finger against his nose, grinning like a fool. Some things changed, but others stayed remarkably the same. Byakuya’s gaze drifted over to Touko, who was scowling at Yasuhiro. Touko was both different and the same. Different, because she stood firm where she used to cower, and she let others into her world where she used to cloak herself in darkness.

And same because while like Byakuya, she had learned to allow herself to rely on friends and for friends to rely on her, she was still head over heels in love with him.

She pointed at a black bag containing hunks of metal. “What sales pitch do you have for this?”

“Easy! All you have to do is make the contents into sculptures,” replied Yasuhiro. “Their only purpose is to be admired, ‘right? Add a backstory to go with them and boom, sold. You can do that to practically anything even if it’s trash.”

“No way,” said Aoi.

“Want to bet?”

The group roused to accept his challenge. Makoto found a used wipe container, and Yasuhiro clicked his fingers and said to fill it with plastic bags, turning it into a dispenser that was portable and could fit easily into a car drawer. Aoi presented him with pizza boxes, at which Yasuhiro laughed and demanded more so they could be decked in wrapping paper and transformed into a drawer unit. When Komaru found a metal pipe, Yasuhiro claimed it needed a clean and spray paint and it could sit contentedly on a shelf.

Yasuhiro even sucked Byakuya and Touko into the game. The cork in Byakuya’s hand changed into a keychain, and Yasuhiro’s voice fashioned an old juice carton into a recyclable purse ideal for coins and trips to the arcade. Each item that the others found, Yasuhiro repurposed it into something else.

“There has to be something you can’t reuse,” Komaru insisted. She peeled the lid open on a cardboard box and lifted out a hardback red book from inside it. “What about these photos? Who’d want to have pictures of strangers?”

“Photos?” said Kyouko, intrigued.

“Yeah, there are a whole load of albums in here. I went through a few earlier but didn’t recognise anyone, so I forgot about them.”

Touko rolled her eyes. “Typical...”

Kyouko and Aoi each took out an album. The box seemed to contain several of them, their covers glazed in dust and cobwebs.

“Gekkogahara-san is in this one,” said Kyouko within a few seconds of skimming.

By now, the rest of the group had gravitated over. Inside the album that Kyouko was holding, the photographs were contained in plastic flaps that overlapped so only the one on top could be seen unless it was flicked up, revealing the photograph beneath. In the photograph currently on display, Miaya Gekkogahara was sitting next to a pale guy with dark hair and dark shadows under his eyes, who Byakuya recognised as Yasuke Matsuda. They appeared to be seated at a computer desk, their heads turned toward the photographer.

“It’s really her,” murmured Makoto. “And not a robot masquerading as her.”

“Do you think these are all photos of her class?” asked Yasuhiro as he and the others picked up their own photo albums to browse.

“If that’s true, then everyone in these are deceased,” said Touko.

Aoi winced. “When you phrase it like that, this feels kind of morbid.”

Makoto flipped through a few flaps in the album in his hands. Then his creased forehead exploded as his eyebrows shot up. “This album contains our class!”

Everyone crowded around him. The photograph showed a pink room with a television screen hanging on the wall. Blurred writing glowed on it that Byakuya struggled to decipher. In front of it, Couch seats were positioned around three sides of a table, and on the seats sat members of their class. The only classmate not in the photograph was Sakura.

“Sakura-chan must have been taking the photograph,” said Aoi. “No way would our class exclude her.”

Holding the album in one hand, Makoto scratched his head with his other.

“I vaguely recall this,” he said. “Kuwata-kun... yes, I think it was him... booked a karaoke room, and the whole class packed in. All of us sang at least once.”

While Future Foundation had aided them in recovering from the memory loss inflicted by Junko, some memories were stronger than others. For Byakuya, he could recall plenty of events, but none came with any emotion attached. It was as though he was reading about them in a newspaper afterwards.

“Byakuya-sama graced us with his voice,” Touko piped up. The ends of her lips curled upward as she squeezed her hands together. “I r-remember... he made the air taste like chocolate syrup... his words spread a chill across my skin... ah...”

Byakuya remembered performing a single song, but he hated singing, and he couldn’t remember what compelled him to accept a microphone.

“Enoshima tried to steal such a precious memory from us.” Aoi rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. “Sakura-chan sang a beautiful song about friendship. Her voice washed over the room like the ocean.”

Kyouko placed a hand onto Aoi’s shoulder. Komaru flicked through the other photographs in the album. Byakuya didn’t pay Komaru any more mind, frowning at Touko as she seemed to relive the experience of him singing. Her recollection appeared much more intimate than his own. Part of him wanted to ask her for more details. Another part was repulsed.

Komaru gasped.

“What is it?” asked Makoto as they all focused on the album again. The photograph that had captured her attention depicted Byakuya. Nothing extraordinary appeared to be in the photograph - he was sitting on a bench at an angle, not facing the camera.

Yet the others stared with their mouths agape.

“I have never seen Togami-chi smile like that,” said Yasuhiro.

Byakuya inspected the photograph closer. Though it had been taken at a distance - probably so he wouldn’t realise someone was taking a photograph of him - there was a definite smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a cruel grin, or the faint curve he sometimes showed around his friends, but a smile showing teeth, one that didn’t just meet his eyes, but made his gaze, no, his face glow.

What he was looking at, however, was unclear. It was now that Byakuya realised the photograph had been torn, and the section that held the object of his attention wasn’t in the album.

“It must have been something amazing to have made him smile back then,” said Yasuhiro.

They all turned to Byakuya, who pursed his lips.

“Putting aside whether I would tell you if I knew, I don’t actually recall when this took place,” he said.

“Maybe we could help jog your memory?” Aoi suggested. “When I want to remember something, I write it on my palm three times.”

“That won’t help,” said Touko. “You can only do that while you still remember the thing.” Her teeth gritted. “Argh... if only I knew what could have elicited such a pure smile from Byakuya-sama...!”

She dragged her fingers down her face.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Byakuya. While the others burned with curiosity, discomfort stewed in his gut like when he had watched Touko reminisce about the karaoke session.

Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.

“There has to be some way to reawaken the memory,” said Komaru, her tone light without the burden of his thoughts. She turned to Kyouko. “You must know a way.”

“Must I?” Kyouko’s eyebrows rose.

“Because you’re from a detective family,” said Aoi, nodding.

“Actually...” Komaru’s smile cringed on her face. “I um... just assume Kyouko-chan knows everything.”

“There are a few techniques we can try,” said Kyouko, faintly amused. “Perhaps if we pinpoint when and where exactly the photograph took place, that may stir something in Togami-kun’s brain.”

Other than Byakuya, no one else was in the frame. A briefcase leaned against a bench leg and a pile of papers rested on his lap. Annoyingly, he couldn’t see any writing that may have been on the papers. In the photograph, he wasn’t looking at them. He was focused on the nothingness where the other half of the photograph should have been.

“That has to be the main plaza,” said Aoi. “I recognise the benches. Sakura-chan and I finished our morning runs there. Then we would sit down and drink some water. We never saw Togami there though.”

“Yeah. That looks like the fountain at the back,” added Makoto.

Kyouko stroked her chin. “The sliver of sky in the background appears rather pale, and judging by the colour of the leaves, it’s approximately autumn.”

“Togami-chi never missed a lesson, so it had to be late-afternoon at the latest, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro.

“Unless it was the weekend,” Makoto pointed out, prompting Yasuhiro to exhale frustratedly through his teeth. The thoughtful expression on Kyouko’s face, however, didn’t waver.

“We can deduce whether he had lessons on that day,” said Kyouko.

“How?” asked Aoi.

Byakuya already knew. “I’m not in uniform.”

“Indeed,” said Kyouko with a bob of her head. “So unless you changed into another outfit after your lessons, this scene transpired at the weekend.”

“Does that ring any bells for you?” Komaru asked Byakuya, clasping her hands together, eyes wide with optimism. “Visiting the plaza on the weekend, and catching sight of something that brings joy to your face...?”

His jaw clenched. All of them were staring at him. They had a campus as large as four high schools to clear and they had only made a dent so far, but the arduous task appeared to have been pushed aside in favour of probing his brain for some memory. Oh, how they tried his patience at times.

“I can’t say it brings anything to mind, though it is unusual for me to be there,” he said in a level tone. “Usually, during the weekend, I would be indoors, either in my room or in the library.”

Certainly not at the plaza. Certainly not with a brazen smile chipped into his face.

“I think we’ve followed the photograph’s lead as far as it can go,” said Yasuhiro. “Now we must turn to guesswork. If we bounce ideas off each other, that might help Togami-chi remember. Perhaps you had come from a meeting, where you struck a billion dollar deal?”

“Or you emerged from the cafeteria after they served some tasty donuts?” Aoi chimed in.

Byakuya’s frown sank in deeper.

“Or you finished a really good manga?” said Komaru.

“Or listened to a good song?” added Makoto.

Yasuhiro clicked his fingers. “I once read that listening to music is a good way to stir up memories. If we find a piece with the right mood, Togami-chi ought to remember the scene!”

“What sort of mood do you guys reckon we should play?” asked Komaru as she shoved her hand into her coat.

“Something cheerful,” said Aoi.

Komaru retrieved her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen. A few seconds later, a series of beeps sang out of her phone, playing over the sound of clapping and a fast drumbeat. She side-stepped back and forth to the rhythm, and Byakuya lasted until the first few lines of Swedish auto tuned singing.

“Turn that off,” snapped Byakuya. “It’s not helping me think. It’s giving me a headache instead.”

With a pout, Komaru switched it off.

“Perhaps we should visit the location,” said Kyouko.

Touko’s brow creased. “Won’t it be dark?”

“Don’t worry, Touko-chan, our phones can provide you with light,” Komaru assured her, patting Touko on the shoulder.

They set off, departing from the old theatre and winding through corridors toward the plaza. Byakuya stayed silent, lagging behind most of the others slightly. Only Touko seemed to take note of this, and though she didn’t speak to him, she hovered further back than him, and he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck like flies crawling against his skin.

As they drew closer, he concluded that they wished so desperately to discover the source of his smile because they planned to use it against him. Perhaps they intended to humiliate him, or blackmail or manipulate him. But they were his friends, weren’t they? Surely they didn’t plan on using what they learned against him?

Yet... if that wasn’t the case, then why?

The plaza was no longer the picturesque location it once was. It couldn’t have been in a brochure promoting the academy, like the photograph in the album. Weeds grew between upturned slabs, gnarled fingers reaching toward the sky. Nearby, the rubble corpse of the fountain didn’t spout water, dry as sun bleached bone. They all stood silently for a while, observing their surroundings. There were no benches to sit on.

“It sure has changed a lot,” said Yasuhiro.

“It’ll do. Hagakure, bend over on all fours.” Aoi pointed at her feet. “You will play the part of the bench.”

Yasuhiro balked. “Why me? You’re stronger.”

Her stare didn’t relent. He managed a few more seconds before he dropped to his knees and planted his hands in front of himself. Once he was in position, Aoi turned to Byakuya expectantly.

“I am not sitting on him,” said Byakuya flatly.

“Please, Togami-san!” Komaru pleaded, shaking her phone in both hands. Light from the screen danced across her face and when her hands stilled, so did the glow. It seeped into her skin, accentuating the crinkle between her eyebrows and the stare from her eyes that pulled, pulled, pulled at Byakuya until he snapped.

“Why are you all making a big deal of this?” Byakuya asked not only Komaru, but all of them. He flung up a hand. “There is a photograph of me smiling. That’s it. It concerns me that you’re so obsessed with finding out what caused me to smile.”

His question clenched them in its jaws, burning the air with acid. He waited for one of them to answer. For Touko to do more than fidget, and Komaru to stop chewing her lip. Finally, the pressure squeezed out a response from Makoto.

“You’re our friend,” said Makoto. “You’re usually so serious, and you rarely ever seem happy. We thought if we could find out what made you that happy back then...”

“... we could bring that happiness back to you now,” finished Touko, curling her fingers into her palms. Byakuya tensed.

That explanation had never occurred to him. For most of his life, he had been forced to be on the defensive, to anticipate betrayals and attacks from anyone. Then again, for most of his life, he hadn’t been acquainted with people like this. Friends. He grimaced, staring at Touko for several long seconds before averting his gaze and pushing up his glasses.

“Nuisances...” But he seated himself on Yasuhiro’s back, setting his feet firmly on the ground.

Byakuya tried to imagine the sky was a pool of water, not ink, and that he was on a bench, and that water streamed from a fountain behind him. However, the air remained as dry and dark as his mouth, and no matter how often his mind mended the slabs of the plaza, they would crack and decay within moments.

“Anything?” said Touko, wringing her hands.

He folded his arms over his chest.

“No,” said Byakuya. A collective sigh spread, though Makoto was soon grinning again.

“I guess we’ll have to keep trying to make you happy.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue, but his lips twitched outward and he quickly hid it behind his hand. Nuisances.

“Does this mean you can stand up now?” Yasuhiro asked from beneath Byakuya.

Aoi stretched her arms upward, arching her back, and yawned. “We ought to call it a day. It’s getting late.”

While the others headed toward the dormitory building that they were currently living in. Byakuya stayed where he was. Their footsteps faded, the glow of their phones shrinking into five pinpricks of light before disappearing completely. Despite his friends’ efforts, they had failed to uncover the story of the photograph. Now that he knew their motives hadn’t been nefarious, he could appreciate their attempts and found himself wondering what had happened all those years ago.

“It’s a shame we don’t know what made you so happy back then,” said Touko next to him, echoing his thoughts. She hadn’t retired for the night with the others. He glanced at her, meeting her gaze. Her phone shone a light against her wistful expression.

“I suppose so,” he said in a casual tone.

“With many of my memories, I don’t recall exact details, but they evoke certain feelings.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction in interest. “Oh?”

“Yes. For example, standing here... is stirring some emotion in me. I think I have a memory associated with this place too.”

Byakuya turned his whole body to face her.

“What emotion?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away, as if letting the thought sit on her tongue, tasting it.

“Warmth,” she said. “Like the warmth I feel when I’m with you. Perhaps I will never remember what happened to give me that feeling. B-But... I have many other precious memories... and I can work on creating more with you, Byakuya-sama.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. Meanwhile, his insides twisted, much like they did whenever she referred to him in a romantic manner. He had been experiencing the sensation more frequently around her lately. Sometimes, all she had to do was meet his gaze or brush against him, and his stomach would coil like she had pressed her lips against his.

“Byakuya-sama?” Touko’s voice broke into his thoughts. “A-Are you feeling all right?”

He did not want to think what about his face had made her ask that all of a sudden.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he adjusted his glasses. “We’ve dawdled here for long enough. Let’s return to the dormitories.”

“Together?” blurted Touko. Without a word, Byakuya strode away, and she darted after him, keeping abreast. “Are you going straight to sleep when you arrive back?”

His eyes stayed forward.

“No. I will have some tea and read first,” he replied.

“What do you plan on reading?”

“Out by Natsuo Kirino,” he said. Her head jerked back.

“I r-recently finished that!”

“I know. After seeing you reading it, I thought I would give it a try. I was more interested when I learned that it’s not a romance, but a crime novel.”

“I specialise in romance, but I read for a variety of genres,” she said. “I can recommend some more books i-if you want. Have you read The Inugami Clan? You may find the start slow, but I think you will enjoy the cast and the premise...”

He listened as they walked back together. The more she spoke, the more passionate she became, and he couldn’t help looking at her as she lit up, waving her arms around.

A smile poked at the corners of his lips, and he finally felt a sense of déjà vu.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

cherry wine

Pairings - Matt Murdock x Reader

Words - 2742

Warnings - there's some violence but its not overly graphic, some angst

A/N - This is for @awesomerextyphoon​ 27 Fairy Tales challenge, I chose to recreate the Grimm Brothers Rapunzel and although its not a direct re-telling I’d love it if you could see what I did. I have to give a huge thankyou to @thicccsimp​ for beta reading this and helping me reword some of it too, she’s an absolute angel. I’m actually really proud of this so I hope you enjoy it. As always my blog is 18+ so if you're a minor please shoo shoo.

“Baby I need it” she tells her husband as she applies her makeup, sweeping the highlighter across her cheekbones and pouting in the mirror at his tense face. Conceding, he creeps into his bosses office, looking in the usual place he sees a large bag of pills and sneaks a few into his pocket. He has been doing this several times a week for the past few weeks and thankfully no one has noticed or he’d surely be dead by now. Closing the drawer and making sure nothing is out of place he slips back into his apartment to hand the pills to his wife, getting a shock when he finds Fisk sitting on the sofa pointing his gun at the woman.

“It seems as though someone has been stealing from me, would you happen to know anything about that?” he asks the man, smirking at the expression on his face. “I know it's you, I have you on camera so don’t lie to me. I have a proposition for you. You can have whatever pills you want for free if you give me your first born when it arrives”. His wife screams no, she can’t give up a baby, Fisk points the gun at her “it's your choice” flicking the safety off and pointing it at the screaming woman.

************************************************

25 years you had spent in this apartment, only allowed to leave when you had your fathers henchmen with you. You had no friends, your father ran Hells Kitchen and there wasn't a single person who wasn't terrified of him. Most of your time was spent online shopping or trying to annoy the guards tasked with keeping you in. Your happiest moments however were when you blasted 80s music, completely losing yourself in the words of the greats like Queen, Bon Jovi, and Prince. You were on the 50th floor of The Sheffield, far away from the ears of others, free to dance around and sing obnoxiously loud and no one would complain. Well no one but the men stationed at your door, but annoying them was a petty indulgence you could never pass up.

A block away Matt Murdoch was patrolling the streets, dressed as his alter ego Daredevil, he was moving in the shadows trying to make his city a better place. He moved around the building tops, landing silently on top of The Sheffield, hearing the sounds of your voice travelling through the open window. You were so carefree, singing along to the Prince song, he could hear you moving around as if you were dancing. He came back every night for a week to hear you having fun, longing to get to know you better but there was always someone in need of help.

He continued to visit you night after night, deciding tonight he would make his move he’d scoped out the building earlier in the day and realised who it belonged to so he couldn’t just walk in and find you. He staked out the building from his perch across the street, trying to find a pattern he could use to his advantage, he was shocked when he realised that you only left once a week to go to the nail salon, closely guarded by Fisks henchmen. You were being held captive in the building.

He listened on top of your building again that night, the urge to talk to you getting too strong to ignore. He left you a little note that night attached to your window You have the voice of an angel, I'd love to get to know you better. If you want to get to know me too leave your window open for me tomorrow. MM.

The next night he arrived at the same time, his heart beating out his chest at the possibility of finally meeting you. He listened again, hearing only you, before swinging down and quietly landing on your window, he felt you grabbing his hand and pulling him inside before moving to your bedroom for some privacy.

You sit him down on your bed, looking puzzled at his red mask “So you’ve been spying on me then?” you teased, sitting next to him and crossing your legs. He chuckles and explains how he ended up on your roof, leaving out the part about Fisk being his number one enemy. You hand him a glass of water and ask if he wants to take his mask off, and get more comfortable, an offer he declines as he is still technically patrolling tonight.

You sit in front of him, cross legged and tell him your real name, Fisk called you Molly but that wasn’t your real name. When you were a child your nanny told you that Fisk named you after what your parents had stolen from him and that your real parents wanted you to be called y/n. You humoured Fisk but knew once you eventually got away you would erase everything that man had ever done for you.

You talked for an hour before he shot off out of your apartment and into the night, just a moment later your father came to wish you sweet dreams. You didn’t sleep that night, wondering what Matt was doing and if he was safe. You spent the next week glued to the local news, looking for anything about Daredevil but saw nothing. Wondering if you’d ever see him again you go for your weekly mani/pedi appointment, trying to subtly look for him without arousing suspicion of the men on either side of you.

You sit in the chair opposite your nail technician and make small talk as usual when a redhead sits down next to you and starts asking you for colour recommendations. She introduces herself as Karen and suggests a dark red colour from the wall, saying it looks good for an evening outfit, she has a date at 8pm tonight. You look at her confused for a moment before the penny drops and you nod your head slightly, you make small talk after that even sending one of your goons out for coffee for the two of you. You decline the offer of her number to repeat the day but let her know that you come here at the same time every week if she ever wanted to catch up again.

That night you leave your window open and dress in your best outfit to give yourself some confidence, he climbs in the window at exactly 8pm and you rush to hug him, taking him into your room again for more privacy. You both lay on the bed eating some snacks and drinking water when you lean in to kiss him, softly at first before he grips the back of your head and deepens it.

You lay like that for what feels like hours, kissing, touching and getting to know each other better before he tells you that he has to leave again. This time he tells you that he wants to come back tomorrow and not wait a week for you, asking you to leave your window open for him once more. You kiss him gently and watch as leaps out onto the fire escape and climbs up to the roof with ease.

That's how you find yourselves for the next two weeks, he would sneak into your room, you’d talk, touch and be intimate with each other before he would sneak back out just in time for your father to come and wish you a goodnight.

You have lunch with your father and you can’t stop smiling to yourself, noticing this he asks you what’s made you so happy but you shrug and say you saw something on Netflix earlier and you really enjoyed it. Seemingly accepting your answer he moves to sit beside you and nods at the chef who brings you your favourite dessert.

Laying down the tiramisu in front of you, you turn to your father and ask him what the occasion is. He just smiles and says he likes making you happy and he wishes you could have the whole world but you’re safer in here where his men can look out for you.

You agree with him telling him you love how protective he is and hope he stays safe out there too, “don’t worry about me my little Molly Moo, no one can hurt me not even Daredevil”. Your expression changes at the mention of his name and you look down taking a bite of your dessert so you don’t have to try to and speak, before excusing yourself telling him you have a book you want to finish before the end of the day.

You sit in your room trying to calm your breathing, he had never mentioned him before and it didn’t make sense for him to do so now. You had to get a message to Matt somehow and tell him to stay away for a few nights, you can’t email him or go to his work website, all of your technology is watched in case you get in touch with your parents. Deciding the best thing to do would be to run across town you slip on your converse and run a bath, turning your music up and locking the door from the outside before sneaking down the fire escape and into the city.

You’ve never actually been anywhere on your own before so the sensations are overwhelming, your heart is beating out of your chest as you hail a cab and tell him the address. You sit in the back of the car and try to control your breathing, a feeling of panic overwhelming you, you barely realise when the cab has stopped and the driver asks you if you’re getting out.

You run into the building and into a man who grabs your shoulders and asks you to breathe, he tells you his name is Foggy and you follow him to Matt's office, collapsing in his arms as he rushes to your side. “Y/N! Focus on my voice, what are you doing here? Does Fisk know you’re out of the apartment?” You shake your head and tears roll down your cheek, Karen appears with a glass of water and helps you take some deep breaths before taking you to the bathroom to freshen up.

You explain to Karen what happened and tell her you need to keep Matt away from your apartment for his own safety. Between you both you hatch a plan to keep him away using her and Foggy as a buffer before you run back to his office. Sitting on his desk you smile and run your fingers over his face “I like you better without the mask” he blushes and places his hands on your thighs telling you should get back to the apartment before someone realises you’re gone. You agree with him and kiss him softly before running out to the cab waiting for you, on the way home you come up with reasons for why you had to leave just in case you’ve been rumbled.

The cab pulls up around the corner from your apartment and you can’t see anything out of place, no one is pacing the sidewalk looking for you. You run up the fire escape again and climb through the window. Your father is sitting waiting for you on the sofa, holding the note Matt left on your window that night, he looks furious but talks calmly, smiling at you and asking where you’ve been. You lie easily telling him you thought you heard someone in trouble and couldn’t just ignore them, he sneers at you and tells you to sit down, you do as you're told the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to keep a distance from him.

“You know you’re just as shitty a liar as your parents were, I have cameras and men all over this building my darling Molly. Did you really think we didn’t know he was visiting you? The entire time he was here with you distracted we got to do whatever we wanted, I owe you a debt of gratitude my little princess”. A sick feeling creeps over you and you have to take deep breaths to calm yourself, deep down you’re pleased you told Matt to stay away. He would likely be ambushed and killed and you would never forgive yourself if that happened.

Fisk pulls his gun out and points it at you “since you’ve been such a good help to me, I won’t kill you today. You’ve got 5 minutes to get your stuff and get out, I’ll give you a day head start then I'm personally coming looking for you”. You jump up and grab a backpack stuffing what clothes you can into it along with your toothbrush and a stash of money you had managed to squirrel away over the years. You know you can’t see him anymore, it's too dangerous and he’ll get killed so you decide to get away from all of them but stay in plain sight.

Later that night Matt ignores his friends, telling them he has to check that you’re ok, he won’t be able to relax until he sees you and holds you in his arms. Sneaking into your room he can tell something is off, he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t smell your perfume. Instead he smells an overpowering cologne “WHERE IS SHE?” he shouts, he knows its Fisk, this might be his one chance to take the man down.

He lunges forward to attack but doesn’t get more than a foot in front of him before four men attack him all at once. They’re relentless, and he's not quick enough to fight them all off, they  break bones and knock him unconscious. He wakes up in hospital, bandaged and stitched with Karen asleep in a chair next to him. He wakes her up and she jumps, pressing the button to alert the nurse, passing him a cup of water and telling him not to try talking. He was dumped outside his office with a note in his pocket telling him to stay away, you had been taken care of and next time they’d bury him beside you.

Three long weeks he spends recovering in hospital, he’s told under no circumstances is he to do anything too physical for at least another six weeks. He sits back on the roof of The Sheffield that night, listening for your voice wanting nothing more than to hear you sing about raspberry berets in your off key voice. He wants to smell what you’re cooking, but there's nothing, the apartment sits empty. He visits every night for a full year before he can accept it, using his anger to take Fisk down slowly, one man at a time until the job is done and Hells Kitchen can start to repair itself.

That first night you went to a women's shelter for help, they took you in and looked after you for two weeks before they needed the space and offered you a bed at Clinton Church, you stayed there out of trouble, helping Father Lantom with the upkeep and helping in the soup kitchen. You finally had a purpose, you were used to staying inside and Fisks people always stayed away from anywhere they would have to deal with ‘vagrants’. You were safe, you felt content.

A full year passed and Matt Murdoch walked through the doors, you watched him take a pew but kept your distance. He sat calmly not making a move, a tear rolled down his cheek and he turned to face you “tell me its you” he almost whispered, running over to you and holding your face in his hands, “why didn’t come to me? I would have looked after you”.

You both stood crying, holding each other, perfectly content to be in the others arms. He squeezed you and asked you to come home with him but you shook your head, you would never put him in danger ever again. He shakes his head at you and shushes you, telling you that he’s gone, you don’t have to hide anymore, taking you to your room to gather your things he thanks the Father for taking good care of you and takes you to see Karen and Foggy, starting your life over once again.