#i’ve been laying down all day since the morning yesterday & only standing up when necessary

[alxor-of-hellsite]

Just because you can stand up, doesn’t mean you should. If standing up right now will make everything worse & what you need to do is rest, then rest.

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Fives - Anchor

Pairing: Fives x reader

Word Count: 1450 words

CW/ TW: Angst; mourning/loss, death, letter, anniversary, pain, brooding, it’s very heavy and sensitive so please proceed with caution and let me know if I didn’t TW something you deemed necessary; also a bit more hopeful/ light toward the end because my heart couldn’t handle that much sadness tonight

Tags: @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023

Notes: I guess I missed him a lot tonight… Sorry for the pain

Some elements included in this fic are inspired from chats I had with @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s ; thank you little moon for being an inspiration to me 🌙

Iridescent - Linkin Park

.

0000.

Happy anniversary Fives.

Though I don’t see how it could be happy, when you’re everywhere but here. I never grew used to your absence, I never could; not when you’re haunting my every move, haunting this place and this world, finding your way back to me through faint memories and thousand of faces walking up to my office every day, asking me about my day and if I feel well.

I have to look at the ghost of you, every single time, and lie.

“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

And I hear your voice again, and again. It tells me about the pain running through your back, the nightmares hitting harder than usual, and the fear eating you alive every time you get out of your hard, cold bed.

But it’s not you. It never is. I never could be.

I stopped buying your shampoo. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the bottle we had in the shower. It’s still there, hidden somewhere in the bathroom, waiting to be emptied and thrown away carelessly, in such a mundane way one could so easily forget about it. But I can’t throw it away; it’s not mundane anymore.

I hid the jewels too, except for the bracelet. I hate to wear it, but I hate even more to put it away. I just feel…I feel naked when I don’t have it, and empty when I do. I can’t help but see you – feel you – through the shades of blue and black. What was once the purest blessing turned into the worst curse, and I can’t break it. I almost did – breaking the bracelet. I almost did.

I could if I really wanted to; but then I would lose you again, and I just…

I gave your aprons to the boys. I couldn’t stand to see them, neatly hanging in the kitchen. They were silly anyway, and I had no use for them. I’m a doctor after all, not a cook.

I published my thesis on the clones’ rights, and it is being presented to the Senate by Senator Amidala as we speak. I told her I wouldn’t be able to be there for her discourse, and she simply hugged me. I wish she hadn’t.

0527.

It’s been a year, yet it feels like yesterday. Everyone moved on; everyone but me, and I can’t help but be mad. I am mad that they forgot so easily about you, that they brushed you off as “another collateral damage”, another…clone. It’s the way they say it when they try to comfort me.

You were more than a clone. More than a soldier, and more than a man.

You were Fives.

You were my anchor, and I was your ocean.

I miss the way you said it. Coming home to me, tired, features drained and eyes darkened by the horrors of your latest campaign; but always soft and caring through the hoarseness of your voice as you whispered it against my skin. You always found a way to be there for me; for everyone, even when you were losing yourself in your own prison.

I am mad at you because of that. Because you couldn’t stand back for once, be egoistic and think of yourself instead of trying to play the hero in the dark. They killed you because you didn’t wait, not even when I asked you – begged you to. I am so angry because I called you an idiot, and all you could answer me was “I love you too, my ocean. My anchor.”

You didn’t even let me say it back.

1134.

I am mad at myself. You trusted me enough to tell me everything, and you knew I would believe you. And when you tried to do something about it, I called you an idiot. I wasn’t even there with you; I should have been there with you. I could have saved you.

Fives…

I remember the first time you came home. At the time, it was still “my place”, but the moment you stepped in it stopped being mine only. I always told you to come by if you needed; and the one time you did, we ended up laughing so hard the neighbour had to knock at the door. But it felt good. I guess that day I gave you a part of myself, and you carried it with you ever since. I suppose it died with you, too.

I know I shouldn’t be so broody; I can almost hear you, your chuckles filling the room, your hands pressing down my shoulders as you tell me “it’s a celebration, smile for me!”; and the smell of that shampoo tickling my nose as you come close to lay a kiss on my cheek…

But now the only thing I can feel are the tears, and that twisting ache in my chest, burning my skin and ripping my lungs apart. I can’t even breathe correctly anymore, I…

1745.

I’m sorry I had you waiting.

I fell asleep on the table, and woke up because of the cold. It’s always cold in here now. I borrowed one of your old sweatshirt - I hope you don’t mind. I kept them. I almost gave them to the boys, along with the aprons; but then I thought they could always come in handy.

They do. When days like today happens; days where I feel too lonely, where I miss you too much and it just feels too cold, I slip into one and hold it so close to me it almost feels like you’re here. My arms become yours, your faint perfume comes back to me fresh and soft, and I sometimes swear I can feel your warmth against my skin. I close my eyes when I do that, and it stops being a dream for a second.

For just a second, you’re back. You never truly left.

And when I open my eyes again; when I realise what it is all about, I still feel you. I see the bracelet, smell the black tissue, watch one of these B movie we used to laugh at and somehow I feel the best and worst I’ve felt in a long time.

I wish you were here. I wish I could tell you how much I missed you and how beautiful you are; if I could hold you tight, one last time... I didn’t even get to hug you one last time. I didn’t know it would be it; else I wouldn’t have let you go.

Echo is supposed to come around today. He told me he would. He didn’t forget about you either, you know. Neither did Rex, or Jesse, or Kix. Your vode didn’t forget about you. They always make sure to keep you alive, tell everyone about you and remember them of who you were.

Echo always says you’re his best friend. He never uses the past tense. I can’t blame him; I still say you’re the love of my life whenever people ask me. I guess we know deep down these things will never change. We don’t want it to change.

Wait, someone knocked.

2226.

When was the last time we laughed like that? For once, we turned the tears into something better; lighter. I’m sure you would be proud of us.

Of course, you would be proud of us.

It almost feels good to see you through Echo; to find glimpses of you in his smile, the faint spark in his eyes when he retells your best pranks, and the way he chuckles...I almost feel at home right now. With you. Not quite, but close enough.

Enough to make me smile, for the first time today.

Echo says hi. He’s watching me writing to you. He asked me to tell you that Rex lit a candle for you this morning, and the boys had a little something for you; but I can’t know what; apparently I “wouldn’t understand anyway”. So I hope – we hope – that you liked it.  We’re probably going to watch a bad movie and mock the poor acting until we fall asleep, and tomorrow we will…We’ll probably think of you again, but hopefully there won’t be as much tears as today.

I guess it’s a battle worth fighting. Not for the Republic or the Greater Good; not for the Senate or the Chancellor. Not for the Jedis or the Galaxy.

No, it’s a battle we fight for you, Fives. Let us be your anchor, for once, and rest easy now, because more than anything or anyone else out there… you deserve it.

2359.

Happy anniversary Fives.

I love you too, my Anchor.

 - Your Ocean.

[starlightrows]

8 — The Healer

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW, Blood and injury, medical, unintentional self inflicted harm, mention of disordered eating (Not graphic, but warnings still apply), oral sex (f receiving)

Summary: You get the chance to start working on a long awaited project, and get in over your head.

A few days later your breakfast with Talece and Mira is interrupted by the head of one of the construction and renovation crews to let you know that the sunless garden space is complete.

You’re so excited you can hardly finish your meal. You find yourself wanting to sprint down the halls to see the room. It takes so much self restraint to compose yourself and walk beside the rather stoic and unbothered construction lead down to the room.

Before the renovation it must have been either a ballroom or a massive storage space. Either way it was not well maintained. It was full of piles and piles of junk that climbed all the way to the ceiling, the floors and the walls were damaged, and it was unusable.

It had been your idea to gut the room and turn it into something usable and unique. You loved having a garden on your homeworld, and since nothing grows on Tatooine due to the excessive heat from the suns and the lack of fertile soil, this seemed like the perfect use for the room.

Boba didn’t have much of an opinion on it either way when you initially pitched him the idea. In all honesty, he was just happy to see how happy it made you. He was quite impressed by your ingenuity creating this room. Artificial sun and moon lighting in real time with the seasons, water reclaimer and distributor so that whatever plant you choose can be watered without wasting it, and holo panels covering the walls to make the entire space look like an enclosed greenhouse.

And when you finally get to look at it, it’s perfect. Rows of raised garden beds, the lighting and holo panels look so real you’re almost sure they misunderstood your directions and just built out a patio instead.

“If there’s anything we missed or not up to your standard let us know, my lady” the foreman tells you

“No no, this is absolutely perfect” you can’t contain the smile on your face “Thank you! Thank you so much, it’s wonderful”

The foreman has to hold back a laugh, you’re practically vibrating, you're so elated. In all his years of doing large scale projects like this, he’s never had a client seem so appreciative.

“I’ll leave you to it my lady” The foreman politely exits the room, leaving you to wander around and admire their handiwork.

As you walk you begin taking notes on your data pad, for what plants and flowers you want to put in which planter boxes. It’ll be a tall order to get all the seeds and plant bulbs delivered here, but once they’re planted and growing, this will be a sight to behold!

You land up spending the entire day in the garden, labeling planter boxes with bits of flimsy tacked on the sides. Talece brought down a tray of food and insisted you eat something, but she also took the time to let you gush about the vegetables you planned to grow and how beautiful the room will be when things begin to bloom.

When you’re too exhausted to stand up straight any longer you make the long trek through the palace back to your room. Only to lay down on the bed with your data pad to begin placing the orders for soil, seeds, bulbs, labels, and plant pots. When you finally power off the data pad, you’re so happy. You can’t wait for Boba to be home so you can show him how amazing it all is.

You hear from Boba a couple days later, he is finally returning to Tatooine, and is “very excited” to see your new projects. He can’t help but smile picturing you squealing with delight as you show him all of your little plants and paintings.

On the same day, your soil and seeds finally arrive at the palace. You almost feel bad for having guards and some of the stronger looking servants help you drag bags of soil down to the garden. You feel less bad because you’ve got your sleeves rolled up to do the heavy lifting too.

Once everything is down there though, you release them to go back to their everyday duties. You get into a rhythm. Slice the seam off a soil bag. Dump into a planter box. Distribute evenly, and rake to till it. Move on to the next planter box.

Hours and hours and hours of this pass. You couldn’t be happier. It reminds you of summers back on your home planet, planting the seeds that would eventually become your fall crops. That would later become your fall meals. Soups and stews thickened with vegetables, roasted root and tubers to go with roasted meat, and gourds to be cooked down into mush to be put into pastries. It’s too hot to have such a need for hearty hot foods like that here on Tatooine. But you still crave them from time to time. It’s one of the only things you miss about your previous home.

As you’re slicing open a bag of soil, thinking about soup, you put in just a little too much force and swipe the blade farther than you expected. At first you don’t really feel it. But then you see the colorful bloom of fresh blood staining your sleeve. You’re stunned for a moment looking at it.

Your hands are covered with dirt. Mind over matter you resist the urge to clamp your dirty hand down over the bloody wound. Instead you calmly stand up and go back to your room. Staring straight ahead, not really able to look at it at the moment.

You get back to your room and know without looking that it is still bleeding but not that bad. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse. You recite to yourself. You start the facet in the fresher and clean your hands, some of the blood has dribbled down your arm into your hand. You scrub it away quickly so you can peel off the shirt.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror. It’s bloody. But not bad. You figure if you can clean it well and wrap it tightly it’ll be fine. You decide you’re done for today and it might be best if you just clean it in the shower. Perhaps not your best decision, but people make poor choices when they’re in shock.

Eventually you are clean, dry, dressed, and have the wound wrapped in a clean bandage. The shock has finally worn off, leaving you feeling exhausted and in quite a bit of pain. You know you’ve probably pushed yourself a bit too far today, and not just because you got hurt. You didn’t remember to take breaks, drink water, or eat meals at all today. A nasty habit you’re still trying to break.

Tomorrow will be better, you promise yourself. You do the responsible thing and lay down for the rest of the evening, falling asleep to an older episode of one of the shows Boba likes to watch.

In the morning, your whole body is sore and the wound hurts pretty badly. You risk taking a peek at it, the bandage is mostly soaked through but not enough to stain the bedding or your clothes… your clothes from yesterday.

You groan in frustration, blood stains are difficult to remove if you let them set. Sitting up you feel a little dizzy, chalk it up to lack of food and water plus everything that happened yesterday. Today is going to be better, you remind yourself. You start by getting out of bed and drinking a glass of water from the fresher. There you already feel a little better.

Next you search around for your dirty clothes from yesterday. Just as you thought, stained. You decide to run some water in the bathtub and let it soak with soap while you take care of the wound. It’s certainly not a pretty sight, but you muscle your way through it and get it clean once more and wrapped as best you can. It’s not perfect but it will have to do.

Just as you finish up you hear a knock at the bedroom door followed by the door opening on its own. You flinch at the sound. Usually if someone in the palace needs your help they will knock but wait for you to bid them entry or open the door yourself. This can only mean one thing.

“Cyare?” It’s Boba! You turn quickly and dash out of the fresher, leaving the medical supplies on the counter.

“Boba!” You exclaim running into his waiting arms. He snatches you up in a bracing hug and laughs at your enthusiasm.

“I tried to com you last night to tell you I would be home in the morning but you didn’t answer. I figured you were asleep” He explains releasing you from the hug and pressing a kiss to you cheek.

“Oh yeah, I was really tired yesterday. I fell asleep with the holo on” you tell him with a bit of an embarrassed heat creeping up into your cheeks.

“You needed rest, can’t be blamed for that my dear” he assures you, tilting your face up to him to give you a proper kiss on the lips. The kiss deepens, both of you finding that you can’t seem to pull away.

“Stars I missed you” you say quietly when you finally have to break for fresh air

“I missed you too cyare. Let me clean up a bit and we can have some breakfast together” he lets you go completely now. You smile and nod happily. He kisses you one more time, and moves past you to go into the fresher while you go find clothes to wear for the day.

Suddenly Boba is calling your name from the fresher. Your heart fills with dread at the thought of what he’s just seen in there.

“What the hell happened in here? Are you alright?” He begins scanning you up and down with his eyes, zeroing in on the bandage on your arm.

“It’s okay! I’m okay” you assure him, trying to push past and clear away the medical supplies from the counter

He places his hands on his shoulders and spins you around to face him, carefully saying your name again with a warning air about him. His hands stay on your shoulders and he looks you in the eye when he asks again. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing really, I cut myself opening a bag of soil yesterday” you explain

He sighs and shakes his head “And what did the healer say?”

“I… I didn’t see a healer” you admit sheepishly

“What? Why not?” He’s appalled and a little frustrated

“I didn’t think it was necessary, I’ve had worse before” you realize his shock and frustration is not unfounded, any rational person probably would have spoken to a healer about this.

“Had worse? And you handled it yourself? Cyare, that is a serious injury” He says, as if repeating it would get you to understand the severity of the situation.

“Boba… I wasn’t welcome to visit the healer on my homeworld. I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask for help” Suddenly you feel guilty and a little defensive “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that when I’m in trouble. I didn’t even think about it”

Then he understands. Of course you wouldn’t think to ask for help when you hurt yourself. Because you’ve been conditioned to think you would not get it if you asked. He has to remind himself that he too used to struggle with asking for assistance, and it’s something that he needs to be understanding about in this relationship.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry cyare, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you” he apologizes “I was just worried when I saw the bloody clothing and used medical supplies. I know you did your best with what you had at the moment. But now you’re not in danger, and we have the resources to have a healer that will actually help you. May I call someone to come look at it?”

You nod in acceptance and let him guide you back out into the main living space in your quarters. He sits you down in a chair, and asks that you just sit and relax for a couple minutes while he steps outside to give instructions to a guard or staff member.

He instructs a guard to go into Mos Eisley and bring back a healer, and a second guard to instruct the kitchen staff to bring a pitcher of hot water as well as breakfast. A few moments later there’s a gentle knock at the door. Boba calls for them to enter, and Mira comes forward bringing the pitcher of water and a tray laden with tea, toast, and eggs cooked the way you like them. She has a look of horror on her face as she sees Boba tending to your injured arm, and you cringe thinking back to your conversation with her the other day.

But Boba doesn’t seem to notice at all, “Thank you Mira, we might need more water if the healer asks for it later”

She gives a shaky curtsy and small voiced “Of course, my lord. My lady” before quickly leaving the room.

“So” Boba gives you a look “Cut yourself opening a bag of soil aye? Does that mean your fancy garden is finished?”

“Yes” you smile a little shyly, knowing that if he gets you talking about it you won’t shut up for the next half an hour at least

“Go on then, tell me everything” he encourages you, because more than anything, he missed hearing you gush about things you care about while he was traveling.

As you eat your breakfast you tell him about your new painting studio and the garden and all the plants you’ve ordered. Which things have arrived, which things you’re still waiting for. You tell him the truth about yesterday, that you had been at it for hours and your hand just slipped when you hurt yourself.

“Accidents happen cyare” he reminds you “I just want you to be more careful”

Just then there is another knock at the door, Boba calls for them to enter. The guard he sent into town has returned with the healer, and you’re surprised to see that you recognize him.

“It’s you, hello again” you greet him.

The man looks a little stunned. When you had asked him to make a remedy for chemical burn scars, you had said it was for your partner, not the kriffing king!

“Y-yes… nice to see you again… um… What seems to be the problem?” he asks, struggling to get his bearings.

Boba takes the liberty of explaining your injury to the healer, and invites him to come take his place so he can examine the wound and assess if it needs further treatment. While the healer works Boba excuses himself to remove his armor and get cleaned up in a different room of the palace. But he leaves two guards to watch over you. When Boba’s gone the healer looks up at you.

“You didn’t tell me your partner was the kriffing king” he hisses as he unwraps the bandage

“That was intentional” you explain “I can’t just go broadcasting to the entire city what my business is”

“Yeah but you might have mentioned it” he grumbles “would have charged you more”

He takes a look at your wound and takes on a look of concentration and disappointment

“What?” you ask with a touch of worry in your voice

“This needs stitches and bacta. You should have come to me or another healer immediately” he chastises you

“Hey, I did my best okay. And if you’re going to get mouthy can I at least know your name so I know who to curse in my mind when you stitch me up?” You bite back

“Darius” he replies “And you can curse me all you like, but you’ll thank me later when this heals without an ugly scar”

“Fine” you relent and let him get to work recleaning and stitching up the wound.

By the time Boba returns Darius has the wound rewrapped and is writing out instructions to keep it clean on a spare bit of flimsi. Darius gets markedly more tense when Boba is in the room, clearly he’s more intimidated by Boba than he is by you. He hands you the piece of flimsi and reminds you to be more careful next time before hastily departing the room with guards escorting him. Boba sends the breakfast tray out as well, finally giving you both some privacy.

“Now then, I believe I promised you a reward last we spoke” he leans forward to kiss the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

You hum in contentment as he continues kissing down your neck.

“Have you been a good girl while I’ve been gone?” he purrs

“Yes” you say with a little gasp and he sucks a particularly pleasant spot

“Go lay down for me” he pulls away from your neck and nods his head towards the bed. You get up quickly and toss the pillows up to the head of the bed and lay back.

He crawls up the bed slowly, pushing your legs apart at the knees dipping down to start a trail of kisses leading up and over your thigh. He breezes right past your needy pussy and instead continues kissing over your hips, and across to your tummy.

“You were so good for me on the com” he murmurs, dragging his nose across your skin, down from your belly button to top of your mound. He’s looking up at your pretty face, wanting to see every expression cross it.

Without blinking an eye, pushes his tongue between your lips and licks a broad stripe up, already tasting your arousal. He continues, slowly stroking you with his tongue up and down, up and down, up and down.

You can’t help it, you start squirming. It feels amazing, but his slow pace is driving you wild. Normally Boba might be a little mean and make you stay still, but it’s been too long and he’s loving watching you writhe in pleasure.

He maintains his long strokes but begins increasing his speed. Finally working an audible moan out of your chest. He switches tactic and pauses mid stroke, and begins fluttering his tongue just barely inside your dripping hole.

“Fuck!” You whimper trying to force yourself not to buck your hips into his mouth.

He knows you’re getting close and he knows just what to get you to the finish line, he makes one more broad stroke with his tongue and stops at the top of his path and latches onto your clit. Suckling and circling the swollen bud with his talented tongue.

Your whole body tensed with such force that you’re sure you might have pulled a muscle and moan in ecstasy as you cum on his face. Boba doesn’t stop, he continues to lap up your release all the way through your orgasm. When you’re finally laying back boneless with your eyes closed, breathing heavily he pulls away kissing back up your belly with feather light pressure until he’s hovering over you, kissing your neck and waiting for you to feel ready to open your eyes again.

Eventually you do open your eyes again, and place your hand on the back of his head to guide him away from your neck. He follows your direction and comes back down to kiss your lips.

“That was one hell of a reward” you say with a breathy laugh

“What can I say? I’m a man of my word” he shrugs laying down beside you

“You certainly are” you smile “I’m really glad you’re back”

“You really did miss me” he chuckles

“Of course I did! I love getting to talk to you about the garden and my painting and my projects. And I really missed getting to relax with you at night. And I love watching your weird holo dramas and hearing about your clients and having dinner with you. I just love… you” you find yourself admitting

He reached out, cradling your face in his hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb “I love you too cyare. I missed you dearly while I was gone. Thought about you every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to sleep”

Your heart soars hearing him say that. It’s easy to fall in love. Day in and day out, it just happens. It’s hard to admit you’re in love. You have to find the words to explain to someone why they are the most important person in your life and they give you unending joy even when you’re not right next to them. But with Boba it’s easy. It’s easy to be in love and it’s easy to say it.

“I love you”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks​ @otterly-fey​ @paige6768​  @littledragonlady​ @star-hoes​ @aeryntheofficial​ @xx-small-town-witch-xx​ @lokigirlszendaya​ @ladysongmaster​ @2clones-1kamino​ @cagrame​ @ashbyrhymer​ @adancedivasmom​ @4rosydreams​ @heybub​ @thefact0rygirl​ @elinedjarin

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

The boy on the farthest table

Kanene’s Notes:

So, I’ve been reading all the fluff content with Dadzawa I could find and I am very surprised I didn’t manage to stumble in a Dadzawa running a Cat Café so I thought ‘h e y’ why don’t I make it??? SO here we are!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* No warnings this time!! Only fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Eat a delicious snack, sleep a bit, take care and drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                         [~*~]

Aizawa doesn’t really care about his clients more than the strictly necessary amount. He arrived where he is because of the cats and the coffee. If people paid more because he decided to mix both together and open a business with that premise than better for him.

 So, yes. Aizawa doesn’t care at all about his clients. Neither held any favorites above the others, don’t matter what Yamada tried to imply with his ‘discrete’ smug eyes and knowing grin as, for the second time today, the black haired worker narrowed his eyes at the boy sitting on the farthest table, lost in his deep thoughts as he stared intently at his notebook just like he has been doing for the past two hours, lazy scribbles fulfilling the lines in a tired, yet determined attempt to keep going.

 The owner of the Cat Café didn’t really care about what his clients did as long it didn’t annoy his cats or him.

 However, that doesn’t mean he kept himself completely oblivious of what happened at his establishment nor the persons who attended there.

Perhaps he wasn’t the most enthusiastic worker there – that is why him and Hizashi had an unspoken agreement that he would stay firm on his place making drinks and serving pastries, sometimes scaring some insufferable clients away, while the louder, social friend would focus in talking and getting the orders, – but he knew enough to not be a bad one.

 He knew that the girl with yellow bright eyes and nuts and bolts shining in between her curls liked strawberry muffins, tended to not be able to stand still for much time, and visited on Fridays, so he always kept one baked sweet hidden for her on these days.

 Just like he always recognized that tall, skeleton-like adult as soon as his form crossed the door. A client who came especially for the cats and the Jasmin tea, although always sneaked a couple and more glares to the cat-themed cookies, so he made sure to “accidentally” drop one with the donuts he always asked to go for “- a friend! He loves them but is often very busied with work… So, I thought I could try and treat him a bit after everything he already did to me!” And also, who, in the next day, came back to attempt to pay for the free cookie but was, day after day, defeat by Hizashi’s stubbornness and convincing abilities, leading the loyal client to make sure to put a generous tip on the Tip Jar as a revenge, making sure to stare intently at the pouting worker during the whole process.

 Or the young girl with red eyes full of curiosity and a tongue full of questions which him and Yamada took turns to answer, eliciting shy smiles, bright excitement and a glare full of gratitude from her older brother, who used the free time to study while she ate and played with the kittens, sometimes even falling asleep when his two friends – an extremely quiet boy with a gigantic sweet tooth and an electric smiley girl who always convinced the younger one to help her to gather the biggest amount of sleepy cats to nap on the blond teen before he wakes up in the middle of purrs and laughter - accompanied them.

 That being said, Aizawa liked to be informed and, above everything else, was good at getting the information he needed. He mastered the skill of analyzing details and understanding situations others used to ignore, making connections and arriving to conclusions that seemed foreign to others, that is why he continued to cast quick frowns and glances to the boy, doesn’t liking at all how his brain continued to run and turn, seeking for any answer or hints of what happened to him, only to get at nowhere. He was, obviously, just trying to assert the situation, which had nothing to do with the fact that the boy – always shining, always with such a bright smile every time he ordered anything – was alone on this Saturday. A not so rare occasion, since even though the café was a common place for him and his friends to meet – an occurrence impossible to ignore due how full of energy and joy and chaos and energy they all were, - he also seemed very keen to spend hours writing and studying on his own.

 However, there was something different today. Something to do with how quiet, concentrated, calm, lethargic the teenager was acting the whole time, which worrie- no, intrigued him.

 Because Aizawa wasn’t worried. Of course not. That would be illogical and preposterous. He wasn’t anything to the child, not his family, not a friend, not a relative, just the guy who grunted a one-word answer every time the younger tried to make small talk and pretend to not notice him and Hizashi trading cute cat videos and pics during the blonde’s breaks.

 Hell, he didn’t even share more words than the necessary with the green haired boy. The longest interaction they ever had was when the younger one came to him on his first time visiting the place and asked for more cat toys, since all the available ones were already being used. Which maybe or maybe not led to Aizawa leaving his friend to deal alone with the orders while he took his time to show and explain the favorite toys of every cat the green boy pointed.

 Which was, sure, only a revenge on his boisterous coworker since the aforementioned interrupted his morning nap by tripping on him on his way to the kitchen (and yes, it was Yamada’s fault for not looking at where he’s going and obviously not Shouta’s because he decided to ��JUST FREAKING PASS OUT ON THE FLOOR. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO SEE IT?’) and, not content with his actions, decided to lock the other out of his own establishment,  only letting him come back after lunch and, consequently, at least five hours of sleep, leaving him on the care of Nemuri, who proceeded to tease him unmercifully for the whole length of yesterday.

 Consequently, it was only a payback, of course. The gleam on the smaller’s eyes as he took notes on a well worn out notebook and the fact that, on the next Saturday, the boy distributed all the correct toys between his friends and their favorite cats were two completely ignorable things and therefore unrelated with the quick, barely visible smile appearing on the corner of his mouth on the respective day and every time he remembered that occurrence.

 But, when a quiet sniff reached his ears, Aizawa almost felt his neck crack with how quickly he turned on the other’s direction, just in time to see the ending of the teenager’s action of wiping a few tears away. The one who definitely didn’t get enough sleep on his entire life to deal with it sensed his left eye twitch.

 That. Is. It.

 “Shouta…” Hizashi whispered behind the usual smile he plastered for the customer in front of him, nodding while writing down what she said and chipping excitedly for her to just wait a little bit to get her order, deviating his attention to his friend when she moved away to sit in one of the unoccupied tables, both taking the opportunity of having no more customers in the line to held some private words. “Do you want me to go there?” his voice was bathed in worry, because his coworker was emotional like that.

 “No.” And Aizawa didn’t know why he was so fast to answer, however he was already washing his hands, mind running, seeking to remember how other people - besides his friends, who were barely humans, - worked. “You know I hate being the cashier.”

 “Riight.” His way-too-smug-grin was fast to become a snicker when his friend aimed a kick on his shin, which he promptly dodged. “Hey! I didn’t even say anything!”

 “Your thoughts are loud. I will be right back.”

 His eyes were focused on the kid, who now was curled on his chair, chin resting on his knees as his arms firmly hugged his legs, making him look even smaller.

 Aizawa grunted, part of him feeling inclined to just drop an entire gallon of water on his head to successfully wash all his problems way, or maybe shake all the bad, lying thoughts taking over his mind and resulting in a few tears to escape what, on its turn, made a strong feeling of protectiveness, which was immediately ignored, shines on him. But Shouta knew he couldn’t act on any of those two options because it wasn’t “socially acceptable” – nor very useful, but he ignored that part, - and “problems” and “people” tended to be more complicated to help than that.

 The older sighed, kneeling on the spot before the front door where the sun passed through the window and made a perfect warm piece of floor for the big, - extremely big - messy pile of purple fluff lay and nap without a single worry in the world, not even stirring as the customers had to tiptoe around him to get in and out of the establishment.

 Shinsou hissed when Shouta first petted him, although was fast to purr louder than a machine as the human began to scratch behind his ears, going back to his peaceful sleep. He was the most calm, chill and snarky cat he has ever seen. His hobbies consisting on getting on the highest shelves to watch the entire place with a judging, tired glare and napping on people’s laps, especially when they were about to head out, which made his customers to order something else and stay for at least more fifteen minutes, not having the heart to interrupt the purple’s sleep.

 Needless to say, he and Aizawa got along just fine. Even with the animal’s habit of climbing him to nap on his shoulders and teaching the younger kittens to do the same thing, knowing very well the one with dark hair would never have the heart to put them away, the human knew he sustained a soft spot for him.

 Nemuri and Yamada liked to tease him, affirming that Shinsou was his cat form and Shouta would never admit he agreed with them.

 He also ignored the implications of that when he remembered Shinsou was one of the green haired bag of energy favorites.

 “I have a mission for you.” It was the only mumbled warning the cat had before being carefully scoped on the human’s arms, melting on the embrace, hissing, yawning and then proceeding to melt even further. Shouta huffed, amused.

 ‘Brat.’

 Another signal that the teenager was much more trapped in his mind than the normal was the fact he didn’t realize the adult coming closer, nearly jumping three feet in the air as Aizawa’s command hit him.

 “Sit correctly.”

 The teenager yelped, looking at him, at himself and then at him again, a strong shade of an ashamed red taking over his features. “O-o-of course, sir! I am sorry!” He bowed, putting his feet on the ground and straightening his back, a slight tremble on his movements making the adult frown.

 “Don’t think too much about this.” And before any protest could come out of the other’s mouth, Aizawa laid Shinsou on his legs, leading the boy to freeze completely, eyes locked on the cat, who just blinked lazily at him and started to knead his thighs, low, rumbling purrs escaping, demanding the new human as worthy.

 A barely suppressed squeal flew from the younger, who already seemed ready to cry again, although for different reasons.

 The cat café’s owner hid his amused smile by catching a kitten who approached with curiosity, petting him and proceeding to flop him on the soft, green curls. Ojiro meowed, purring and immediately attempting to eat his new environment.

 “I…” His wide, wobbly smile increased further as Shinsou butted his head on the teenager’s palm, his voice, a whisper, lapsing for a beat. “I love them.”

 There was no way for the adult to hide his snort at his words, but the Problem Child seemed unfazed with his reaction, turning to him with shiny eyes and smile.

 “Thank you so much, sir!”

 After a nod, Aizawa turned away and came back to his spot behind the counter. And if talking and taking orders when Hizashi uses part of his break to “discreetly” take a few pictures of a beaming boy smiling to the camera and pointing the cats on him to send to him later, is much more bearable than before? It has absolutely nothing to do with the young figure on the farthest table sporadically giggling as he plays with an Ojiro who is fiercely convinced he can win the battle against the red laser.

 […]

 “Excuse me, Yamada-san. I’m sorry, but my order was 476 yens and you only charged me 200.” Aizawa knew the boy was going to lose the fight the moment Hizashi only grinned and locked the cashier, completely ignoring the two pieces of paper on the other’s hand.

 “Don’t worry about it, little listener! Don’t worry! Take this as a thank you for letting Shinsou and Ojiro sleep on you for one hour, okay?”

 “B-but sir! It was no problem at all!” The way he moved to prove his point made Aizawa picture a small, energetic bunny. “I really like them and I was going to stay here longer anyway!”

 “Now, now, young boy.” Hizashi pointed a finger at him, trying and failing miserably to see or sound at least a tad chastising. “Refusing a ‘thank you’ is a serious offense, I wonder if I will need to give you a free blueberry muffin to go because of that…”

 “No!” Aizawa huffed, turning away from them and heading to the tables, taking the opportunity of how low the business was to clean and prepare them for the next customers, stopping right on his tracks, mid step as a wide, pleading glare found his. “Aizawa-san,” he shook the 276 yens at his direction, puppy eyes staring right on his soul, “please.”

 The dark-haired one scoffed, looking away from the powerful graze. “Don’t bring me into this. Fight your own battles, problem child.”

 Hizashi laughed at the pout he received in response, having pity on the loyal customer. “Okay, okay. I give. You can pay for this.” Aizawa glared at him, one eyebrow up in a non convinced expression. His friend winked, big grins as the younger turned to him, much more smiley. “With a hug.”

 Problem child seemed surprised, especially when the flamboyant employee jumped across the counter and stopped in front of him, arms open in an invitation. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” His voice was softer. “I can always accept 100 yens if you really want me to, little listener.”

 He didn’t understand the magic thing his friend always managed to do. The way he succeeded to dance around someone’s barriers, finding openings and walking through them, asking no permission to get closer yet always attentive when to stop and retreat or to talk about every or anything. The same magic he showed when they were teenagers.

 Tsuyu meowed and Aizawa kneeled down to give her attention for as long as the embrace lasted, pretending to not notice the two hugging behind him, the taller lightly swaying them while the younger relaxed, melting on the touch.

 A few seconds later the anxious bunny was bowing, thanking them and getting out with a gleam on his face, hugging happily the notebook next to his chest and petting Cloud before going away. Shouta came back to his spot, Yamada followed and the green hair disappeared on the corner.

 “We’re not adopting the Problem Child.”

 “But he already even has a nickname! Shoutaaa, it’s meant to be! And you’re already soft for him as well, don’t deny it.”

 He scoffed. “Shut up. You try to say no to those fucking puppy eyes next time.”

 “You fought well,” Hizashi patted his shoulder, his own gaze getting a dangerous, gleaming light. “Dadzawa.”

 The rarefied clients distributed across the café jumped when, between laughter and dramatics cries of pain, the blonde fell on the ground, a half pleased, half evil smile presenting itself on the shorter’s face in a flash before his impassive expression took over and he calmly continued with his usual chores, pointedly ignoring the ‘It was so worthy it’ snickered by his friend, still laid on the floor.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Acting Your Age: Three Months

Summary: Three months after the birth of their first child, the reader is having a hard time with all of the new and old stresses that come with it...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 5,200ish

Warnings: language, slight flangst, age gap, implied smut

________

“Well aren’t you adorable,” said Jensen to Reese, fast asleep in her car seat in the back of your car. “Yes you are. I missed-”

“Do not wake her up or I swear on my life you are never getting sex again,” you said, yanking the grocery bags out of the trunk. He stood up and frowned.

“I know my flight was late but-”

“But what?” you said, shutting the trunk, Reese waking up and starting to cry. You scrunched up your face and went inside with the bags, Jensen carrying Reese in her seat inside, unbuckling her after a moment as you started to put things away in the kitchen.

“Shh,” he cooed her, narrowing his eyes at you. “Mommy didn’t mean to be loud.”

You finished quickly and washed your hands before you went to your bedroom and shut the door. Jensen entered after a moment, Reese calmed down and asleep on his shoulder.

“What is going on with you?” he asked. “Are you sleep-deprived or something? We talked about this before the baby. We gotta talk and take turns when one of us is too tired.”

“Leave me alone. There’s milk in the fridge if she needs it,” you said. You quickly left the room and went outside, going to the patio by the pool and sitting up on the stone wall. You tucked your head between your knees and let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t long before you were crying hard, gripping your legs tight.

You weren’t sure how long it was before you felt Jensen sit behind you and wrap you up in his arms.

“Kiddo. Talk to me,” he said. “This is not normal for you.”

“You can’t leave Reese up there-”

“Gen came and took her for the afternoon,” he said. “Now what’s wrong?”

“I can’t even take care of my own daughter,” you cried. “I’m some stupid money hungry-”

“Whoa, whoa. Were you looking at internet comments again?” he asked.

“Some woman came up to me in the grocery store and she said some stuff,” you said.

“Did you tell her off?” he asked. “Please tell me you told her off.”

“No because she was right. I’m a horrible mother and…” you hiccuped. “You don’t love me and that’s okay. I know the baby-”

“You are incredible and wonderful and an amazing mother and wife and best friend. I’ve never loved anyone as much aside from Reese,” he said. You lifted your head up and let him spin you around, his palms wiping off your cheeks. “I want us to go talk to someone.”

“Jensen-”

“You’ve been a little off since Reese was born and it’s getting worse, not better. Can we please go talk to someone? Maybe it’s hormones or postpartum or maybe it’s something else. I miss my best friend and I’ve done a shitty job of taking care of her lately. Please, let me help you,” he said. “Don’t make me beg, kiddo.”

“Alright. I’ll go,” you said quietly. You rested your head against his chest and he ran his hand up and down your back. “Will you come?”

“Of course, honey. We’ll see if we can get you in somewhere this week to figure out how to get you feeling better again.”

“As far as the baby goes, that’s it?” asked Dr. Ash the next day. You nodded, his head doing the same for a moment. “Please feel free to consult a medical doctor as well but I don’t believe you have postpartum depression.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. Jensen slid his hand across the couch and held your hand. “I don’t think you have any kind of depression actually.”

“Is it seasonal? I know I can get seasonal sometimes in the winter,” said Jensen. You turned your head and stared at him.

“I didn’t know that,” you said.

“Well the first year we were together I didn’t get it, I don’t always, and last year with the baby coming soon, I didn’t even have time to think about it,” he said. “It’s definitely not a constant or a sure thing even. I wasn’t hiding it from you.”

“So what’s wrong with me,” you said quietly, looking back at Ash.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. My professional opinion is that you’re under stress as a new mother and any kind of thick skin you’d developed before to bullying isn’t there right now. You’re in a vulnerable state which is completely normal. Your personal situation however isn’t,” he said.

“I’m not following,” said Jensen. “I don’t bully my wife.”

“I didn’t say you did. However, these internet comments can be harmful if you give them that ability. The incident at the grocery store likely just worsened those feelings,” he said.

“The comments never bothered me before,” you said. Jensen squeezed your hand and he gave you a half-smile.

“They did at the beginning. I know it did. Maybe Ash has a point. Being a new mom is stressful. I know how stressful being a dad is for the first time. Add that to all the other crap we go through? The constant jabs for the age difference. The comments about you, about me, our careers, this, that, the other thing. Maybe it’s too much right now is all,” he said.

“So I’m weaker than I used to be,” you said, closing your eyes.

“I don’t think anyone is saying that,” said Ash. “Bullying mixed with the stress of being a new parent along with a physical confrontation...I think you’re going through a rough time right now is all.”

“How do I fix it?” you asked.

“Avoid social media,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I’m self-employed. I run my own design firm. I need to use social media,” you said.

“Fine but no looking at comments, either one of you. I also want you to get out of the habit of accepting this bullying behavior as normal. It’s not. These people are strangers. Don’t give them that power. Ignore it and stand up for yourself if it becomes necessary. You don’t deserve it. Do not listen to strangers either about your parenting choices. Your family will help you. Understand?”

“I understand,” you said, taking a deep breath before you looked at Jensen. “I know you love me. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“I do love you, kiddo and don’t apologize. It was a bad day. We’ve survived them before,” he said. “Now that we have a better idea of what’s going on, let’s see if it helps, honey.”

“Reese,” you said the next afternoon, watching her giggle as she knocked her empty formula bottle on the floor, Jensen bending over and picking it up. “Are you misbehaving young lady?”

“She’s an Ackles. Of course she’s misbehaving,” he teased, picking her up out of her high chair and patting her back, a quiet burp leaving her. “Oh, hey. I talked to mom about the party this weekend. I told her we were thinking of skipping. We’re all pretty wiped.”

“Are you sure? It’s your family reunion. You guys only do it every five years,” you said as you cleaned up after dinner.

“I don’t need to see the whole gigantic ass family. We’ll see my actually family this year in a few weeks for Christmas. I can’t believe we agreed to host,” he chuckled.

“Well it did make it easier with my family being closer to home so they can come up too. Also, we can totally go to the reunion. It’s one Saturday and you’re done filming for the year and my last project wrapped up. We got the time,” you said. “Besides you know everyone wants to meet Reese.”

“I don’t want to share her with anybody but you,” he said, his voice high as he looked at Reese, a giggle escaping her again. “You just want mommy and daddy, huh?”

A little howl alerted you to Dean at his feet, wagging his tail.

“We couldn’t forget Dean,” said Jensen, Dean staring up at Reese. “I got guard duty, little guy. Why don’t you relax?”

He proceeded to follow Jensen around as he burped Reese, Jensen chuckling as he finally set her down in her basinet. Dean settled next to her on the floor and Jensen patted his head.

“Alright, alright. We can share, baby,” he said, Dean laying down and snoring quickly.

“They’re cute,” you said, a soft smile on your face as Jensen slid around behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin.

“I love you,” you said. You turned your head back and he gave you a kiss. 

“Come to bed,” he said. You hummed and started to head over to the bassinet but he curled you back into his chest. “Not sleep. Bed.”

“Sex?” you blushed, Jensen smirking when he caught it. “We haven’t...since Reese was born…”

“I want to see my smoking hot wife in all her naked glory,” he said. You stared at him and burst out laughing, Jensen pouting and grabbing your hips gently. “Oh, you think I’m joking?”

“I think you’re a master of seduction,” you teased, laughing a little. “If you need to get off, I’m happy to oblige but we don’t need to have sex to do that.”

“Oh, we definitely need to have sex. See, I need to tell you how beautiful you are, make you see how gorgeous you are,” he said, brushing his lips over your ear, a shiver running up your spine. “Remember when we had sex on your brother’s couch? How much fun that was? We were both nervous then but we did it.”

“You want to have sex on our couch?” you chuckled.

“I want to see that cocky, flirty girl that put me in my place because she was nervous. The girl I thought was so pretty, the girl who looked at me like I was something to be devoured. Honey, I want to devour you. God, I want to devour you so bad. You are perfect,” he said.

“...So no sex on the couch?” you asked, smirking at him.

“Are you toying with me, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes already a few shades darker.

“Why ever would I do that,” you teased, walking past him and smacking his ass. “You’re so on bottom.”

“I got it,” said Jensen on Saturday morning as he pulled on the diaper bag backpack and grabbed your other one from the trunk. You carried Reese on your hip up to Jensen’s parents house, walking inside and immediately finding his dad standing there.

“There she is!” he said, taking Reese out of your hands. “You’re so cute!”

“Well isn’t that adorable,” teased Jensen.

“You’re grounded.”

“I’m an adult! Who no longer lives here,” said Jensen. “I made the literal baby you are holding.”

“To be fair you could have done that once you hit puberty,” he said. Jensen stared at him and you bit back your smile. “Got her.”

“You two together are horrible,” he said, shaking his head as he headed for the kitchen.

“She sleeping through the night?” asked his dad.

“Mostly,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Sometimes. When she feels like it.”

“Go rest, kiddo,” he said, running his hand over the top of your head. “You look tired.”

“She’s due to be fed and-”

“And I raised three of my own and have other grandchildren. Go on. Take Jensen with you. Have a nap, that’s an order,” he said as he gave you a side hug.

“Thanks, Alan,” you said, returning it with a smile. You moved to head upstairs when he caught your hand.

“You okay?” he asked. You stared at him and saw Jensen return sans the baby bags, looking between you. 

“You tell your dad?” you asked.

“I was worried. I thought it was baby stuff I didn’t understand at first,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m a little stressed right now and should avoid the internet’s comments about what kind of mother I am is all.”

“Well the first kid is the hardest,” he said, wrapping his arms around Reese. “I know you two keep those kinds of other things away from us but I know not everyone’s been as kind to Y/N as they should be. Try to ignore them, sweetie. You two are miles ahead of where we were at your age,” he said.

“My age or hers?” asked Jensen.

“It’s an expression, Jay. Call us up more often. We’ll come down to help out,” he said. “You especially when Jensen’s out of town.”

“We know. We’ll ask for help more,” you said, grabbing Jensen’s hand. “Let’s take a quick nap, babe.”

He followed you upstairs to his old room, the two of you plopping down on the bed with a sigh.

“God, this feels good,” he moaned.

“Sleep is the new sexy,” you teased, Jensen peeling open his eyes. “Wasn’t that some kind of promo thing when Supernatural first came out?”

“Scary is the new sexy,” he chuckled. “Oh, how young and naive I was.”

“You were my age!” you said.

“Well, girls mature faster,” he teased, curling his arm over your waist. “Enjoy being young and naive before you turn into this.”

“Before I age like the finest freaking wine there ever was?” you said, dancing a finger over his chest. “You think I’m naive?”

“No, kiddo. I was teasing. I mean maybe...maybe you still see the best in people and have hope for people even when odds are they’ll end up letting you down. Life hasn’t taken that from you yet. I don’t call that naive. Some people might but I don’t. I just call it good.”

“I’m pretty sure what you described is naive, Jens,” you said, tracing your finger over his pecs and drawing shapes. He took your hand and pressed it over his heart.

“If you’re naive then I’m a love struck teenage boy who is head over heels in love with the gorgeous woman laying in his childhood bed with him,” he said.

“None of that sentence made sense,” you said.

“I’m saying, be who you are, who you want to be. I remember the sad girl by the pool and I’m sure you remember the sad boy. What’d I tell you that night?”

“I should be myself,” you said quietly. You gripped his shirt tight and scooted closer. “I know you weren’t exactly happy back then either. I know you pretended a lot to the outside world but Jared and Gen knew how you really felt.”

“You get to be a certain age and you feel like you screwed up, that you ran out of time. Then some dork walks into your life and shows you how wrong you are,” he said, kissing your nose.

“Jensen. I know you focus on me a lot and I appreciate that, I do. But-“

“You do that for me too, kiddo,” he said.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I don’t little spoon for just anyone,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours. “I know I’m still shut off sometimes. I think it’s just how I’m built. But after Reese, something changed and I don’t feel like doing that anymore. I love my girls and I hope they know it.”

“We know it,” you said, scooting closer. “We love you too.”

You pressed your lips against his, sliding your hand to the back of his head, rubbing your fingers through his short strands.

“You are so unbelievably attractive,” you said, his hand sliding to your hip and pushing your sweatshirt up some.

“I never made it past first base in high school,” he said.

“Me either,” you said. “You were out in LA when you finally did it right?”

“Mhm. You had that lovely boyfriend that cheated with your roommate, right?” he said.

“God, he was such a douche. Both of them were,” you said. “No talking about shitty exes.”

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, kissing your jawline.

“What would teenage you do if he had me in this position right here, right now?” you asked.

“Oh, I definitely wouldn’t have had the guts to do what I’m about to do,” he chuckled. “Especially when my parents are home.”

“Think you’re getting past first base?” you asked as you sat up. He went with you, glancing past you to the door. He put on a cocky smile and stood, going to it and cracking it open a little. He walked back over and lay over you, nipping at your neck. “Jensen. Oh my God. Your parents are gonna hear us!”

“My parents are downstairs and we have the next twenty minutes completely to ourselves,” he said. “Come on. I dare you.”

“Yup. Definitely still randier than a teenage boy,” you giggled as he brushed his lips over yours. 

“Shh. We are so not gonna wanna get caught doing this.”

“Hey mom, you need help with anything?” asked Jensen when you both went back downstairs half an hour later.

“No. Your brother came over early to help out,” she said, Josh and his dad cutting in through the back door. 

“Hello, Jensen,” he smirked as he walked past and towards the kitchen. 

“Oh don’t be smug,” said their dad. You tilted your head while Jensen swallowed. “The table?”

“Yes. The table,” said Jensen, leaning over to you. “I have zero idea what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Jensen. The table. I can believe you put it back in the garage so poorly after Easter,” said Josh. “It took us forever to get out.”

“Right,” said Jensen, his dad going over to Reese again to play with her. Josh smiled as he wandered over, getting in close.

“If you two are going to do the horizontal tango, shut the door. I saved your asses. Twice,” mumbled Josh.

“We even for the hockey stick incident now?” asked Jensen.

“Nah. You can still hold that one over me,” he smirked. “Been there before is all.”

“You?” mumbled Jensen and he nodded. “No way. You’re more goodie two shoes than I am.”

“What’s the big secret?” asked his dad as walked over and he handed Reese over to you. 

“Nothing,” you all said at once, glancing at one another.

“Mhm. You two fighting again?” he asked, looking at you and Josh.

“Dad,” said Josh, frowning at him. “No. Y/N and I worked that out a long time ago.”

“Alright, alright. Just a concerned father but you know, whatever,” he said. “Now you two boys help me finish setting up the backyard before the rest of the nutjobs get here.”

“You know, having a baby is a great way to get away from these crazies,” said Jensen a few hours later. You slapped his arm as you carried Reese up to his old room. You set her down in her pack and play Jensen had brought in, Jensen running a hand over her head. “The monitor on?” 

“Mhm,” you said, handing him the other device. “You want me to get it?”

“Nah. You were up with her last night,” he said. You pulled the door shut some after yourselves, Jensen throwing his arm over your shoulders as you headed back to the party. “Let’s make another one.”

“Two? I thought you only wanted the one,” you said.

“Yeah but you wanted three and I’d like Reese to have a little sibling she could look out for and making babies with you is so much fun,” he said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “It is so much fun.”

“Let’s revisit this when she’s a year old. How’s that sound?” you asked.

“Good to me,” he said. He grabbed a pair of beers from your cooler and soon you were out in the backyard again being introduced to people Jensen couldn’t even remember sometimes.

“Jens, Kenzie,” said Jensen’s mom when you were talking to some of her cousins. Jensen and his sister spun around. “Can you help in the kitchen a minute?”

You turned to go with them but she waved you off.

“I only need two pairs of hands,” she said as she headed back inside.

“So do you act with Jensen?” asked the guy you’d been standing with, Bob. At least you thought his name was Bob.

“No, no. I’m an interior designer. I wouldn’t be caught dead in front of a camera,” you said. “I do a few things with the brewery and bed & breakfast too. But definitely no acting.”

“How’d you guys meet?” he asked.

“My brother was Jensen’s costar on their show. We met at a family party after the show was over and all that. We became friends and hit it off,” you said.

“But you knew about him,” he said. “I mean, that he existed.”

“I guess. I wasn’t close with my family back then. I’m the young one. I’ve never even seen the show,” you said. “I just knew he worked with my brother and was one of his best friends.”

“I’m guessing there was no pre-nup,” he said.

“No, there wasn’t, not that it’s anyone’s business,” you said. He looked you up and down while you narrowed your eyes. You almost said more when another one of the cousins came over.

“Hey, it’s the preschooler,” he chuckled.

“Excuse me?” you said.

“Wow. Everyone knows what you’re up to kid. No need to get defensive,” said Vince.

“What exactly am I up to?” you said, lifting your chin.

“Sleeping with him for that gravy train,” he said. “The kid was a good move. That’ll keep him for years at-“

You nearly slapped him when Josh was suddenly at your side and grabbing your arm.

“Inside,” he said. You looked up at him and saw his face change. He dropped your hand and spun around. “Leave. Now.”

“Leave? We just got here,” said Bob.

“Yeah and that’s my little sister you’re talking about. You know what you’re saying about Jensen too when you say those things?” he said. “Do you?”

“You mean the little celebrity?” laughed Vince. “You’ve seen your brother. Seriously. He started out doing the same thing.”

“Josh,” you said, grabbing his arm when his face went red. You almost had him walked away when you heard one more comment that made your skin crawl. You spun around, coming face to face with your father in law, the backyard silent.

“You two in the house now,” he said, a strange calmness to him.

You swallowed. You’d never heard him like that before and quickly went inside with Josh, avoiding the looks you’d gotten and slipping into the kitchen.

“What is going on?” asked Jensen when he saw you. You closed your eyes and Josh sighed.

“Some of mom’s cousins-“ started Josh but you shook your head. You didn’t want Jensen ever hearing what they said. “They said some not so nice stuff about you and Y/N.”

“What kind of stuff,” he said, looking at you. “Y/N.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, Jensen looking past you out at the backyard. “Josh stood up for me and your dad’s telling them off. Don’t-”

“The internet and strangers are one thing but people fucking related to us?” he said, his mom tsking him. “No mom. This is fucking serious.”

“Calm down all of you,” said his dad as he came inside. “Kids in the den.”

“We are not children anymore,” said Jensen.

“Den.”

You grabbed his hand and went with him and his brother and sister into the side den, Mackenzie closing the door.

“They used to do this when we were in trouble,” she said. “Who-”

“The shit for brain idiots, Bob and Vince. Who’d you think,” said Josh.

“Could one of you two please tell me what they said?” asked Jensen as he sat on the couch. “Please?”

“They didn’t say a damn thing you haven’t read on the internet before. Y/N and I could have taken them,” said Josh.

“Are you okay?” asked Jensen. You nodded and gave him a smile. “You sure?”

“I was a little upset but I was about to slap the one in the face when Josh showed up. He called me his little sister,” you said.

“You used to not trust her you know,” said Jensen. 

“I didn’t either,” said Mackenzie. You glanced over to her, watching her look at her lap. “You got rid of those doubts very quickly for me, for the rest of us. You were terrified that Thanksgiving. We know our brother is different than us. We wanted someone to be with him because they liked him was all.”

“He’s important to me,” you said.

“We were at the wedding. We know,” said Josh. You nodded and looked down, Jensen sighing.

“Was it her age?” he asked. “Kenz?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly made you change your mind?” asked Jensen.

“I know you three had a big fight that night. When you finally came back and joined the campfire, I saw how she was trying to bury herself in your side. She had her hood up I remember,” she said.

“When she was crying?” asked Josh.

“I didn’t know you were crying,” said Jensen.

“I thought I’d hid it,” you said.

“We all saw,” she said. “You weren’t faking. After that we knew you really cared about Jensen.”

“You guys could have just talked to her you know,” said Jensen.

“Guys. It’s okay. I know this was not normal at first but we all care about each other. Some stupid relatives made some stupid comments. I don’t care about them. I care about the people here and our actual family. Screw the rest,” you said.

“Agreed,” said Jensen.

“Alright,” said their mom when the door opened. “Bob and Vince are gone and they aren’t welcome back.”

“Mom-“

“Jensen. It’s the end of it,” she said. He grumbled and crossed his arms. “Come feed Reese. She sounds like she’s hungry again.”

“Fine,” he mumbled as he stood and left. You scratched your head as Donna came in and took a seat next to you.

“I’m sorry for-“

“Don’t apologize for other people,” you said.

“I was going to say I’m sorry you never seem to catch a break on this,” she said.

“I knew what I signed up for,” you said, giving her a smile. “I’m okay. I just want to check on Jensen and Reese.”

You left and found him upstairs with her in his room, Reese looking up at the awards on the wall.

“Hey,” you said, tickling her chest. “Daddy was so good at baseball, wasn’t he?”

“I’ll never understand why people are mean for no reason,” he said quietly.

“Those two bimbos were obviously jealous of how successful you are,” you said. 

“I can never seem to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“Yeah but I want to. It’s my job. You were feeling better this week and then-“

“Then nothing,” you said. “Babe, your parents got rid of them and your brother was there for me and those people, the ones you actually care about, they’re the ones that helped me.”

“I know,” he said, leaning his head against Reese’s. “Just been a rough week.”

“Let’s enjoy the rest of the party then and we’ll have a lazy day tomorrow. I promise.”

“Hello cutie,” said Jared the next day back at home, bopping Reese’s nose with his own. “You are so lucky you didn’t get any of your daddy’s ugly genes.”

“It could be worse than that. She could look like you,” said Jensen.

“As if she could be more beautiful,” said Jared.

“Losers,” said Gen from the counter.

“You two dorks were so excited after the wedding being all ‘we’re brothers!’ and I swear they’ve gotten worse since then,” you said, Odette chasing Dean around.

“Wait until the kid moves like that,” chuckled Jared. “Also we are so not-“

“Like a pair of five year olds,” said Gen, taking a sip from her beer. “We should take more lazy Sundays. This should be a thing.”

“I’m cool with that,” said Jensen, plopping down on the couch. “Where’s my hot wife?”

“She’s literally disgusting,” said Jared.

“Your face is disgusting,” you said as you sat down on the edge of the couch and wrapped your arms around Jensen.

“Your face is disgusting,” said Jared, setting Reese down on Jensen’s chest. “See? Now it’s not disgusting.”

“Be nice to your sister, Jare,” said Jensen.

“Yeah yeah,” he said, picking Reese back up. “And because I’m so nice, I’m gonna make some snacks with this cutie for her very tired mommy and daddy while they take a nap.”

“We’re okay,” you said, peeling away from Jensen.

“We got it. Seriously. Go unwind,” said Jared. 

“Don’t have to tell us twice,” said Jensen.

Two minutes later you were both in bed and the lights were off, Jensen wrapping himself all around you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jens.”

“Y/N.”

“Mhm.”

“Did you think about what we talked about on the way home yesterday?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Any decisions?”

“Mhm.”

“Going to keep me in suspense?” he asked.

“I want you to keep working as much as you want to. Always. No matter how many kids it ends up being,” you said. “I will call in the troops more often and stay away from Instagram comments. I’ll still post but I’m just gonna ignore it all and focus on what matters.”

“Sounds good, kiddo,” he said, closing his eyes. “Sleep contest?”

“You’re on, Ackles.”

_______

[sondepoch]

Day 4

10 Days (Jumin Han x Reader)

You didn't expect to find yourself locked in an engagement to Chairman Han, but with your own mother forcing you into it, you have no way of denying her. But as time continues and things change, you begin to develop affections for your fiance's son: Jumin Han. But the sad truth is that there's nothing either of you can do to stop the marriage, and you only have these 10 days before your future becomes reality. 10 days with Jumin Han.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 |  ✔

MASTERLIST

Sleep never comes.

You spend the entire night alert, impossibly aware of every car moving around and every voice coming from apartments below. Your senses are on fire, lit up with fear and terror of what's to come.

And by the way Jumin looks at you in the morning, your lack of sleep shows.

"Eat," He says, when his chef brings out an extravagant breakfast. "You look awful."

"Thanks," You mumble sarcastically, not caring about being polite. You clench your jaw when you look down at the food. It's a breakfast fit for a king, a dozen different plates spread between you two. Jumin has placed a portion of baked egg danish with kimchi and bacon onto his plate, and his chef has served him fried eggs with hazelnuts and blackberries. There's a fruit arrangement, two egg and cheese soufflés, and more crumpets than two people would ever be able to consume. And the chef is still placing plates down.

Still, all you can bring to your stomach is a small waffle square that brngs you back to your days in the orphanage, when life had been sweet and peaceful. When your parents hadn't been in the picture.

"Jumin," You begin, voice low. "Before my mom comes. There's something you need to know."

There are a lot of things he needs to know, You can't help but think. And if he knew them, he wouldn't have called my mother, but I have to at least tell him this.

"I'm adopted."

He doesn't even take a pause from his breakfast, not bothering to meet your eyes. "I know."

Your eyes widen.

How?! Your parents have taken every precaution to keep that aspect of their life a secret, never wanting the world to know that they're incapable of producing child.

Jumin must notice the confused look in your eye, though, because he explains: "After you called Luciel...well, I don't know what impression you left him with, but he automatically assumed you were an enemy of mine. He sent me a file on you, thinking that I'd use it to blackmail you to protect myself."

Oh.

No wonder.

The world doesn't know it, but BC-Sonic has invested billions of dollars into user privacy and security, so you'd instantly known that 707, or apparently Luciel, was a top-tier hacker. And then he'd gone back and breached your company's security two more times until BC-Sonic had shifted its algorithms completely. So there's no real surprise that he'd been able to uncover the details of your adoption.

But what else does Luciel know? And more importantly..."What else was in the file?"

Jumin flicks a bored eye up at you, thinking. "Nothing noteworthy. It went in chronological order, so your adoption was the first thing I saw. I didn't look at it much after that point."

A small smile finds its way to your face, despite the situation. Even when he doesn't have to, Jumin always seems to find a way to be a gentleman.

"Can I see the file?" You ask hopefully, needing to know the depth of Luciel's information.

"I already returned it back to him," Jumin responds. "Why? Was there something specific you wanted to know?"

You swallow. Jumin has now stopped eating, putting all his attention on you. Underneath his piercing gaze, you can't help yourself. "Did it say anything about..."

Child abuse?

"...Nevermind," You say quickly, cutting a waffle square and shoving it into your mouth so you have an excuse not to speak.

It's bad enough that Jumin may piece together the truth at the meeting with your mother tomorrow, you have no intentions of bringing it up any earlier than necessary.

"Should I take the day off?" Jumin inquires after a moment. "I've already cleared my schedule for tomorrow, and my assistant should be able to move my meetings for today."

"Why would you need to take today off?" You ask, unable to hide your irritance. "I'm fine."

"Of all the words to describe you right now, fine is not one of them."

You shoot Jumin another glare, but you know he's right. Last night was one of the first sleepless nights you've had in a long time, and your body is not adjusting well. And it doesn't help that every time you think about seeing your mother, the pit in your stomach gets even deeper. But still: you don't want Jumin risking his reputation at C&R on your account.

"There's nothing you can do for me by staying home," You blurt, not caring about how rude it sounds. "Go. We'll see each other in the evening."

Jumin opens his mouth in protest, but you give him no chance, standing up and leaving the room as quickly as possible. A bubble of guilt begins to rise in the depths of your consciousness, where you know that Jumin is simply doing all he can to make sure that both you and his father are happy...but he knows too little of the truth.

And he has too much power, you can't help but think.

That is the one spot of hope you have—that your mother, even if she hurts you tomorrow, won't do it in front of Jumin. She can't possibly be that bold, can she? Not in front of a man with such powerful influence. Even if the meeting brings you pain, it'll be in private, without Jumin ever finding out.

I can only hope, you think absentmindedly. You hear the front door close, signifying Jumin's leave.

You sigh.

Heart heavy with a need to distract yourself before you start shamefully crying once more, you turn to entertainment to preoccupy your thoughts. What should you watch? The Big Mermaid? Cinderemma? The Lion Prince? You turn the TV on and scroll through the titles before selecting Beauty and the Feast, a heartwarming tale about a comely woman and her neverending appetite.

But the moment the credits start rolling, your mind darts back to thoughts of your childhood, and all the pain you'd endured. Absentmindedly, you bring a hand down to your outer thigh and massage the spot, a motion you've done hundreds of times before to soothe yourself.

No, you tell yourself, angrily shifting your hand away. I need to leave those memories—and those habits—in the past. As soon as tomorrow is over, Mother will never lay a hand on me again and I can forget everything. For real, this time.

You turn on One Hundred and One Damnations and force your mind into the setting of the movie, repeating the pattern over and over again until the entire day has gone by like that: angrily binging children's' movies to distract yourself from reality.

You don't even notice that Jumin has returned until he awkwardly coughs. "Is this how you spent your day?" He inquires, one eyebrow raised.

"Better than nightmares all day like yesterday," You respond plainly, scooting over on the couch. You pat the spot expectantly, and Jumin regards you with mild amusement before walking off. You pout for a moment, but then he returns, now with his blazer off and tie loosened. The man sets two wine glasses on the coffee table and pours himself a glass of red, leaving you a glass on the table in case you desire it.

And just like that, you hit the play button and the movie continues.

Except that this time, each time your mind gets pulled away from the movie, it's not your mother you think about. It's the businessman himself: Jumin.

His expression is relaxed, from the wine or the movie you don't know. Even his usually sharp gaze is now softened as he watches Ponald Puck stomp around on the screen. You can't tell if he's actually invested in the movie or not, because every now and then his gaze drifts to the windowed wall, where there's a beautiful sunset, or to the chandelier looming above your heads, or to his reflection in the wine; but there's something utterly mesmerizing about watching him.

He's handsome, you realize. How is it that you've never noticed it before?

It's only the few times that his gaze actually shifts to you that you move your eyes away to focus on the movie, though your thoughts drift back to him soon enough.

"You should sleep," Jumin says quietly, when a new batch of credits rolls onto the screen for the sixth time.

"I don't want sleep," You respond. Though you're certain he understands your real meaning. I don't want nightmares.

Jumin sighs, taking the remote away from you before you can put on another movie. "(Y/N), it's been over twenty-four hours since you last slept. Considerably longer than that, actually. This can't be good for your health."

"I'll make it work."

Before Jumin can answer, your phone begins to buzz. You pull it up, and the entire screen is lit up with Chairman Han's contact picture.

You stiffen. Taking his call is the last thing you want to deal with, right now.

Next to you, Jumin places his wine glass down on the coffee table. His soft gaze flits over you before he takes the phone from your hand. "Hello, father? Ah yes...(Y/N) is already asleep, she left her phone on the table. Of course. Very well, I'm taking the day off tomorrow but I'll tell my assistant to set up a meeting. Oh, no reason...Yes. You as well. Good night."

Jumin hangs up and places the phone next to the wine glass, making no mention of what he just did.

You avert your eyes. "Thank you," You tell him, your voice quiet enough to have been lost in the light breeze from the ceiling fan.

Jumin sighs and turns, all of his attention centered on you. But for once, his gaze isn't calculating as he looks at you, or even sharp. His expression is different tonight, a stormy sky of passionate thunder and lustful wind swirling and mixing all in his gray eyes.

"You can talk to me," He tells you gently, after staring at you for what feels like hours.

Somehow he's managed to pin you to your spot with his eyes alone, and as much as you want to give in—to tell him the truth about your horrid childhood and all your fears of the life you're getting into with Chairman Han—you know that you can't burden him like that. This is your weight to bear, and your life to manage.

"No, Jumin." You tell him. "I can't."

His jaw clenches momentarily and he looks down. In turn, you sigh, hating yourself for denying him. But you have to do it. You can't give in. You can't.

"I want to help you, (Y/N)."

"We don't need to talk for that. Just..." You bring your gaze up to Jumin's, and when your eyes meet you pull your gaze away, staring at your hands. There's only one thing you can ask of Jumin. "Just be here for me."

"Okay," He says, bringing his head lower so that his forehead is resting against yours. "I'm here."

It's...oddly peaceful.

Neither of you move. With each passing second, you feel the weight of your memories and the fears of your future slowly fade, until you're not thinking about them at all and all that remains is the present.

Your breathing slows, and you release a sigh of content when Jumin wraps his larger hands around yours, slowly caressing each finger before rubbing soothing circles on the soft skin. Your mind feels completely empty, devoid of thoughts of your mother and Chairman Han. All that exists in the moment is you.

And him.

And his hand, as it rises to your cheek.

And his thumb, as he delicately tilts your chin upward so that you're meeting his eyes, the blueish grays never being as soft and tender as now. Whatever storm of emotion that was in them before is now cleared. All that remains a silent question: Is this okay?

And as you both lean forward, all that exists is his lips on yours, so gentle and loving but tender with promises of more to come, and nothing can shatter the infinitely precious moment.

Somewhere, in the distance, you hear one of Jumin's clocks strike twelve times.

Midnight.

But even so, as Jumin brings a hand to cup your cheek and you wrap your arms around his neck, neither of you can bring yourselves to care, and even time doesn't exist in the perfect world you're both immersed in: the worlds of each other.

MASTERLIST 

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 |  ✔

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: So...If you follow my other fic Where Futures Begin, you'd notice that I haven't been updating....and that's because I physically cannot type with my left hand at all without the process being 10x slower >.> I've been able to keep updating on this story because I've had some prewritten chapters, but Day 5 will probably be on the shorter side if my hand doesn't heal :( My hand is also the reason i've been posting more oneshot fics, I've just been going through drafts and making minor edits >.> I'm sorry for the inconvenience!

Comment & Like

Next Update: 4/25/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Previous

So with a bit of powering through the block, here is the penultimate chapter. Thanks for sticking with this story and all your  comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge @wickedgoodbooks @happytoobserve for their support with the story

Chapter 24: An Enduring Commitment

Ever mine, ever thine, ever ours.

Letter from Beethoven to his Immortal Beloved. (Also used in Sex and the City)

Claire, in that blissful state between sleeping and wakefulness, rolled over and stretched out, her hand automatically reaching for the hard body next to her. The unaccustomed coolness of the empty sheets quickly pulled her fully awake. She lay still for a moment, content to savour the anticipation of the day ahead, triggering a small flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

Propping her back against the pillows, she could hear a flurry of activity outside the bedroom. A familiar low voice spoke, too softly for her to make out the words. The reply, however, came through loud and clear, in scolding tones.

“Unca Jamie, I said no! Mam has told me I’ve tae look after Auntie Claire taeday. Mam says ye canna see her, no’ even a wee keek. Mam says ye’re like a rat up a drainpipe given half a chance. So ye need tae go away… right now.”

There was a small knock on the door and Wee Jamie’s head peeped around the door.

“Are ye awake, Care Bear?” He ran in and perched on the end of the bed before she had a chance to answer.

“I had tae tell Unca Jamie tae go away jes’ now.”

Claire smiled. “I heard.”

“Weel, he canna be seein’ ye ‘til the kirk, Mam says ‘tis bad luck. Why?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe people are scared the groom will see the bride and suddenly change his mind?”

Wee Jamie scooted up the bed and snuggled into Claire. “Unca Jamie wouldna change his mind, no’ about ye, Auntie.”

“Aw, thank you. So you protect me from your uncle today, then.”

“Aye, I will,” he gave a big sigh. “I’ve an awfa lot of jobs tae do taeday, ye ken. And mam told me tae ask ye what ye want fer breakfast. Mam thought a couple o’ boiled eggs wi’ soldiers might do ye.”

“But,” he added conspiratorially. “Ye could always have toast wi’ chocolate spread… I can help ye eat it.”

“Boiled eggs sound great.”

Wee Jamie pulled a face in disgust as he climbed from the bed. “I’ll go tell Mam. She says tae stay here fer breakfast, ‘cos ye ken what Unca Jamie’s like… a rat—“

“I know,” Claire laughed.  “Thank you, Jamie. You go and tell your mum what a big help you are to me. And tell Uncle Jamie to behave himself… or else.”

***********

Feeling guilty at the prospect of being served breakfast in bed, Claire quickly dressed in leggings and an old university sweatshirt of Jamie’s. She opened the large mahogany wardrobe and gazed at her wedding dress hanging there, now free of its protective covering. The kaleidoscope of butterflies resumed their fluttering in her stomach. Six hours to go…

“Claire, can I come in?”

Rushing to the door, Claire let Jenny in. She placed a plate with two boiled eggs, and an army of toast soldiers on the small side table together with a large mug of coffee.

Claire smiled appreciatively. “Thanks so much. I’m not sure how much I can eat though. My stomach is flip flopping all over the place.”

“Ye’d best try and eat something. It’ll be a long time ‘till we have the dinner and we canna be having ye passing out at the altar.”

Jenny moved over to the open wardrobe. “So this is it?” She asked, recalling much cherished memories of another wedding gown at Lallybroch nine years before.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present bride, she continued with genuine emotion in her voice. “Oh, it’s jes’ lovely. Ye’ll look beautiful in it.”

She sat on the bed as Claire half heartedly dipped a soldier into one of the eggs. “How are ye feeling? Ma brother canna stop still, he’s fidgeting about the place and keeps trying tae see ye, of course. I’ve ordered him tae take William fer a nice long walk. They both need tae burn off some energy and it’s a grand day outside.”

“Like I said, my stomach is in knots, but in a good way… does that make sense? I just want it to be three o’clock, yet, on the other hand I don’t want the day to go too quickly.”

“Aye, I ken what ye mean. I was jes’ the same maself. I wanted tae be able tae remember every minute. But Da, now, he was sae nervous, he couldna stop shaking. He fair sprinted down the aisle. I had tae hold him back and try tae enjoy the moment.”

Jenny stood up. “Ah, weel, I’ll go and make sure Jamie goes fer a walk. Then ye can come down fer a bit, if ye’d like. I dinna want ye to feel ye’re in isolation up here.”

Claire took a swig of coffee. “Thanks, Jenny.”

“Nae bother.”

“Not just for this… or today… but for everything.”

"I always wanted a sister, as well as my clot-heid of a brother. It’s taken Jamie some time, but I now really feel like I’ve got one. We're family."

Jenny fumbled in the pocket of her skirt and pulled out an old leather box. “Claire, I ken Jamie has given ye our mam’s pearls, but I have the matching earrings here. If ye like, ye could wear them today… fer the ‘something borrowed’.”  

She opened the box and passed them to Claire. “I mean, ye dinna have tae.” She quickly added. “I willna mind if ye already have others tae wear.”

Claire wiped her hands on her leggings before taking the box. “Jenny, they’re lovely. Of course I’ll wear them. I don’t know what to say… thank you so much.

“I’d best away now.  I’ll let ye know when the coast is clear.”

Jenny bent down and gave Claire a big hug. Claire didn’t speak, but hugged Jenny even tighter before letting go. She wiped her eyes as Jenny left the room.

As soon as Jenny closed the door, Claire could hear footsteps rushing away along the landing.

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, I ken what ye’re up tae, creeping ‘round here.” Jenny called out sternly.

“I was only going tae see if Claire wanted tae say hello tae William. She hasna seen the bairn this morning.” Jamie sounded very sheepish.

“G’on fer yer walk and dinna be mithering Claire. It’ll all be worth it this afternoon, when ye see her coming down the aisle.”

Claire felt a shiver of excitement up and down her spine at those words. She glanced at the clock. Only five and a half hours to go…

********

Wee Jamie loudly announced outside her bedroom door when it was safe for Claire to venture downstairs. He gallantly accompanied her into the kitchen and insisted on standing guard at the back door, despite numerous protestations that it wasn’t really necessary.

Claire poured a coffee and settled herself at the kitchen table to await the arrival of Geillis. The kitchen, the heart of Fraser-Murray family life, was unusually quiet, the only sound being Wee Jamie singing a song to himself, featuring lyrics clearly about a variety of toilet habits.

Growing up, this quietness had been the norm but now, ever since meeting Jamie, she relished the noisy mealtimes around this table, with several generations coming together to share food and whisky (adults only), conversation and laughter…and love.

The scrape of a chair against the stone tiled floor roused Claire from her thoughts. A warm hand reached across to lightly rest on her upturned palm.

“Ye were miles away there, lass. Ye’re no’ having second thoughts about our Jamie?” Brian asked, a broad smile on his face.

Claire returned the smile. “No, I was just thinking about mealtimes here, around this table. So different to my life growing up.”

“Different, aye. But fer the better, I hope?”

“Yes, of course. It’s so nice to feel part of something, you know?”

“Aye, I do. I can tell ye, the first time Jamie brought ye tae Lallybroch and we sat around here, I looked at ye and I kent ye belonged. No’ jes’ wi’ Jamie, but here wi’ all of us. He may have been a fool about some things, but no’ about ye.”

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Brian released her hand for a moment before placing a small coin in her palm.

“Silver sixpence fer yer shoe… if ye’d like. Ye dinna have tae use it.”

“Of course, I’d like to.” She studied the coin for a moment. “You know Jenny has lent me Ellen’s pearl earrings… for the something borrowed.”

“Aye, she said she would. Ye ken, ma Ellen woulda loved ye. And ye remind me of her in many ways. No’ jes’ in looks. Her hair was red like our Jamie’s, and her eyes werena amber, but they were as warm and sparkling as yers are now. And she always had a calm, practical nature—like yers.” Brian’s voice began to crack. “And love, always so much love.”

“Aye,” he repeated. “She woulda loved ye. We went tae tell her yesterday, Jamie and I, we paid a visit tae the kirk yard. Left her some flowers. She always loved this time of year, ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ as the poet says, and tae ken her wee Sawny is getting married now, here…weel—“

A panicked yell came from the back door. “Auntie, there’s a car here, but I dinna think it’s Unca Jamie.”

“Oh, ‘tis alright,” he continued with a loud relieved sigh, ‘‘Tis only yer friend, G.”

“I think that’s my cue for us to go and start getting ready.” She moved around to Brian and gave him a hug. “I’ll see you in church, then.”

***********

Jamie shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden pew. Despite the chill of the late October day, he was suddenly very hot. William, held tightly in his arms, seemed to sense his father’s nervousness and pouted before starting to grizzle, quietly at first, then building up to a loud wail.

Isobel, in her wedding role as baby minder for the ceremony, was positioned in the pew behind Jamie and Ian. “Hush,” she crooned softly as she tickled William under the chin.

Distracted from his woes, William grinned at his aunt and then amused himself by grabbing his father’s curls with both hands and babbling.

“Dadadada.”

Jamie’s heart filled with pride as he gazed at his son, clad in a little white shirt, Fraser tartan trews and matching waistcoat.

Ian nudged Jamie gently. “There’s nae doubt who his Da is. How ye doing?”

Jamie licked his lips and tried to swallow. “Fine,” he croaked. “A wee bit nervous but… shouldn’t she be here by now?”

“It’s a bride's prerogative tae be late. It’s only ten minutes. Yer sister kept me waiting for nigh on twenty, remember?”

Jamie smiled at the memory of how worried Ian had been, convinced that Jenny had changed her mind and was, at that moment, somewhere on the road to Glasgow. He had no doubts about Claire, he knew that she was on her way, but the waiting was excruciating.

Suddenly the atmosphere in the church changed. The organ music which had been playing quietly in the background ceased. The priest strolled down the side aisle and halted in front of Jamie and Ian.

“They’re here,” the priest whispered and indicated for the congregation to rise.

As the organ sounded with the opening bars of Händel’s ‘Largo’, Jamie stood and passed William to Isobel, wiping his hands, now damp with sweat, on his kilt. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the altar, unsure if he was allowed to turn around. Ian had no such concern and craned around to watch before, smiling broadly, he clapped Jamie on the back.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Jamie swivelled around to watch the procession down the aisle. Wee Jamie led the way, carrying a small velvet cushion with a piece of Fraser tartan laid on top. Jamie knew that the two white gold wedding rings were nestled inside that fabric. His nephew’s face was a mask of concentration, only breaking into a smile when he spied first his mother, clutching Maggie to stop her toppling off the pew, and then his father and uncle.

Geillis brought up the rear, her bronze satin gown complimenting her strawberry blond hair, caught up at one side by an ornate pearl comb. The simplicity of the dress, with its cowl neckline, ensured that the congregation’s main focus was where it should be… with Claire.

Jamie caught his breath as he looked at Claire. The late autumn sunlight streaming through the church windows caught the highlights of auburn and gold in her hair, falling in loose curls onto her shoulders, the only adornment a simple pearl headband matching her necklace and earrings. In her hands she carried a bouquet of creamy peony roses and pale orange tinged ranunculus with autumn berries, seed pods and leaves, tied together with a bronze ribbon.

He felt tears prick his eyes as he recognised how Claire had lovingly included his mother in their wedding, wearing Ellen’s necklace and earrings and carrying peony roses, his mother’s favourite.

As she drew closer, he could see the detail on her dress, enhancing the creamy whiteness of her shoulders and neck. She was never less than beautiful to him, but here, now, he knew she was all he ever needed…  companion, confidante, wife, lover. She stopped alongside him and flashed him a warm, yet nervous, smile. His heart was so full, it felt like it would burst.

As Jamie and Claire said the familiar words of the traditional wedding service, repeated by millions of couples over hundreds of years, each vow, each promise felt, to them, fresh and unique, a covenant for the two of them alone. In front of their family and friends, they made their commitment to each other, their love clear in every word they spoke.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest intoned the final authoritative words.

“Dadadada,” yelled William at the top of his voice, clapping his hands.

The air of solemnity immediately lifted throughout the guests. With applause, cheers and much laughter, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

[backtothestart02]

Struck by Lightning - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: After much struggling with names and how auditions exactly work and I’m pretty positive I got a lot of it wrong, but whatever...the first chapter is finally here!

Remember, I’m using gossip from Grant & Candice’s real life during The Flash’s run as inspiration for this soapy fic. I’m not saying this is what happened. Not by a long shot. So, just enjoy! :D And if it’s not your cup of tea, I have plenty of other fics to read. :)

It should also be noted that Barry is with Patty at the beginning of this fic, so you will have to endure some spallen. ;)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 1 -

Twenty-five, half-dressed, and agitated as hell, Barry Allen came out of the bathroom and whined to his girlfriend sitting in the living room.

“Pattyyy.”

She lifted her head up, pushed her reading glasses up over her honey-colored strands and waited. She’d been prepared for the third outfit tried on for the day with him, but the loosely hanging purple and gold striped tie, blue and white unbuttoned collared shirt, and navy boxers with yellow ducks on them she could have never prepared for.

“Did you wear those boxers to bed?” she asked, setting her open book down on the couch and meeting him halfway across the room.

“No,” he said immediately. “I wore purple ones with green frogs on them and the word ‘Leap!’ a few different places.”

Patty bit her bottom lip and covered her mouth to restrain a giggle. She hadn’t been blind to the way his heels lifted and voice got squeaky when he said the word, ‘Leap’.

“What?” He frowned.

“Nothing.” She shook her head and tugged on his tie. “Come with me, Mr. Allen. I’ve made you some breakfast.”

He stopped suddenly, and she let go of him.

“Patty, I can’t eat now. I’m going to be late!”

A white, fluffy dog appeared at Barry’s feet and barked promptly up at her, wagging its tail. Then another almost identical dog appeared doing the same thing.

Patty looked down at them and then up at Barry, who seemed to be oblivious to the pair.

“Looks like the kids want to eat.”

He frowned. “Help me get dressed. Please?”

She sighed and shook her head at him.

“Just let me pour some dog food into the bowls, and then-”

“No!” He tugged on her arm in the direction of the bedroom.

“I don’t think we have time for that.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Won’t you be late?”

“PG version, Patty. Please.”

She dropped the suggestive demeanor and followed him into the bedroom where a pile of clothes lay on their bed and several strewn out hanging from the top of the closet door frame.

“Oh, boy.” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Well?” he asked hopefully, following her gaze.

“You can get rid of the tie,” she said. “Didn’t the casting director tell you that it wasn’t necessary to be so formal yesterday? Especially since the scene you’re reading from your character is in a more casual setting?”

“Yeah…” he trailed off, untying his tie and dropping it on the floor with the button-down shirt he’d been wearing. “But he also said a white t-shirt and sweats was too casual when I came in that way the day before.”

Patty nodded and cringed a bit.

“It kinda is.”

His shoulders slumped.

“So, what do I wear?”

She walked across the room and picked out a few items, one from the bed and another from the closet.

“Jeans,” she said, tossing a dark pair at him, which he just barely caught. “STAR WARS shirt.” She tossed the black tee at him.

“Wait, for real? Isn’t that too-?”

“Casual?” she filled in. “Your character’s a nerd.” She came to him and draped her arms around his neck. “Like you, like us.” She nuzzled his nose. “Put them on,” she whispered, then smiled. “If they disapprove again, just ask them.”

Barry blanched, as if the suggestion was completely intolerable.

“I can’t-”

“Or you can do the white tee with the red plaid button-down and vest. That’s nerdy too.”

She walked out into the living room and then the kitchen to feed the dogs.

Barry turned to look in the mirror with the clothes in his arms. He supposed Patty was right. Maybe he was overanalyzing this. He just needed to find the right ensemble and stick to it. But not wear it every day. He should definitely not wear it every day. That would mean a lot of laundry to do more than once a week. Though it would only be a few things to wash…

No. He was not going to wear the same thing every day.

“Hurry up, Babe,” came from the kitchen. “You still gotta eat and fix that bed head of yours.”

Barry paled. She was right. His hair was a mess, going in every direction. It was probably due to how little sleep he’d gotten the night before, tossing and turning, waking Patty up a few times. He couldn’t help it. This was the third day of chemistry tests, and he hadn’t felt certain about any of the women that had come in to do what should’ve been an easy, straightforward scene with him.

He’d already gotten his script for the pilot, and all the other actors had been hired for their respective characters. He was ready to get started! So, where was the mystery woman that was supposed to be perfect for him? Er- his character. Would they ever find her?

Shaking it off for the time being, Barry quickly got into the clothes thrust into his arms and power-walked to the bathroom to finish his morning routine, including fixing that hair of his. Then, he slid out into the kitchen and held out his arms, waiting for Patty’s approval.

She smiled, her perfect white teeth all showing.

“You look darling, Darling.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he came to sit at the stool near where she was standing.

“I made you a bagel.”

He scoffed. “That’s it?”

She looked at him, amused. “Aren’t we the picky one?”

He blushed. “Sorry, it’s just… You made it sound like-”

“I made the works for you? Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, etcetera?”

“Well…” He looked down at his fidgeting fingers. “Yeah.”

She tilted his head up and kissed him on the lips.

“I did. You can eat it when you come home from your auditions.”

He blinked.

“You’re already five minutes late! Go!”

He turned to look at the clock on the wall and immediately panicked. He got up, slipped his shoes on and ran out the door.

“Barry!” She ran after him. “Your breakfast! Your break-”

But he was gone and wasn’t looking back. She sighed and came back into the apartment. One of the dogs looked up at her and licked his lips.

“Ha. I don’t think so,” she said, and took a bite of the bagel herself.

…

Iris West walked down the block from her apartment the same way she did every day. The only difference was that today she had an audition. Which meant she wouldn’t be working at Jitters today. She’d be stopping by to have coffee with Linda and then going to her audition.

“Hey!” she said, as she slid into the booth where her best friend sat opposite.

“Hi,” Linda said in return, glued to her phone.

“Is that all I get?” Iris asked, pulling the phone out of her friend’s grasp.

“Hey!” Linda tried to reach for it, but it was useless.

“What is more interesting than me, hmm?” Iris teased, holding the phone out of reach.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! You are the supreme, goddess of all!”

Iris gave her a look. “Overkill, Lin.”

Linda snatched the phone back while she was distracted, and Iris didn’t make another reach for it. A waitress showed up with both their orders, and they each smiled and thanked her.

“You ordered for me?” Iris asked.

“Duh.” Linda rolled her eyes. “It’s a special day!” She put her phone down.

“Tell me about it. I’ve finally gotten to the chemistry test. You know how hard that is? To get past the initial audition to testing who you’re playing opposite?”

“Boy, do I ever.” Linda sighed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lin. I didn’t mean-” She reached across the table and covered her hand with her own.

“Don’t worry about it.” She shook it off. “One of these days will be my lucky day too. I’m sure of it.”

Iris forced a smile. “Will you tell me what you were reading?”

Linda rolled her eyes again. “You mean you didn’t see?” she blanched mockingly.

Iris laughed. “With all that reaching I had to do? Um, no.” She took a sip of her drink.

Linda sighed. “I was just looking up your co-star.”

“Mm, been there, done that.”

“Not impressed?”

She shrugged. “He’s only been in a few things, and it’s not like he matches his comic counterpart.”

“Well, neither do you.”

Iris scoffed. “Tell me about it. You know I went into a comic store and asked for comics for my character and they laughed at me, because they didn’t believe I was auditioning for that?”

“The way of the world, honey, I’m afraid.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So, back to your co-star…”

“Okay, he’s cute.”

Linda grinned.

“You afraid you’ll be tempted to date him?”

Iris laughed. “No way.”

“Then what?”

“Sometimes I get self-conscious around guys I’m physically attracted to. Especially when they turn out to be assholes after they figure it out.” She took a deep breath. “I just want to do my best, you know? If I don’t get this…I don’t know. I think I might move back home.”

Linda’s jaw dropped. “Quit acting? For real?”

Iris nodded, drawing her fingers around the rim of her mug.

“Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened. I’m just…sick of not getting anywhere. Of only being a guest star for a couple episodes. That’s not going to put me on the map. It’s not going to get me anywhere. I’d be lucky if it got me in a Lifetime movie.”

“It’s a slow process, Iris. I mean, I should know. I haven’t gotten a role period in the past six months. I’m thiiiis close to making my dream job a barista at Jitters.”

Iris snorted.

“Seriously.”

“Yeah, I hear you. But I’ve been at this for years, Lin. Getting a lead role in a superhero show? Starring opposite a white guy? That could really take me places, or at least get my foot in the door. This couple is pretty epic in the comics. If they’re going to do anything like it on the show…I mean-”

“I thought you couldn’t find any comics, that people you shut me down.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Since when has people shutting me down ever stopped me? A girl has to be her own hero every now and again.”

Linda smirked. “That’s a good line.”

“I’m thinking of selling it to the writers. Think they’d go for it?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Linda laughed. “Isn’t your character a badass reporter? No way she’d stand around to be saved by a superhero every time she was in danger.”

“And she’d be in danger a lot, becaaaause?”

“The superhero is in love with her.”

“Exactly.” Iris beamed, then sighed happily. “I really hope I get it.”

“I hope you do too. It’ll give me something new to watch on TV.”

Iris pushed her playfully.

“And seeing my best friend succeed will do wonders for my ego.”

“Your ego?”

“Well, yeah. I’ll be besties with a superstar.”

Iris snorted and took another sip of her drink.

“Do you know any of the competition?”

“Not personally. When I was waiting outside for the initial audition, a lot of pretty girls came and went. So, it’s definitely just about looks, probably not just about acting either. You gotta have something…some…gumption.”

Linda smiled at her admirably. “Another good word that should end up in the show.”

Iris laughed. “Maybe I should just make my own show.”

“And invite this Barry Allen to be a part of it?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Iris shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her drink.

“If he’s lucky.”

Linda laughed.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get a pastry and then we should get out of here. Your time slot is in half an hour, right?”

Iris checked her phone.

“Oh, my God, yeah, it is.”

“Do you want anything? Crumpet? Scone? Cake pop?”

Iris bit her bottom lip, debating.

“I better not,” she finally said. “If I eat any more sugary things, I’m going to become one.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

But when Linda came back five minutes later, she’d gotten one of each, and Iris took two. Linda shook her head as the two of them headed for the door and the beautiful day that lay before them.

“I know you too well,” Linda sang.

Iris shook her head and took another bite of her scone, her voice muffled when she responded.

“Shut up.”

Linda laughed.

…

After about 10 beautiful women had come and gone, Barry felt hunger and boredom start to consume him. Day 3 of countless attractive, talented women walking through the door for a chemistry test with him, and not even he had tried to convince the casting director to give any of them another shot.

From behind the glass, Barry saw movement, and immediately straightened in his seat as his waited for David Singh, the casting director, to walk through the door. Mr. Singh came and sat across from Barry in the seat the latest contestant had been in. He laced his fingers together over his knees and leaned forward.

“What are you thinking, Barry?”

Barry’s stomach growled.

“Besides that you’re hungry.”

A blush crept up Barry’s neck.

“Think you can do one more?”

He looked up a little too excitedly.

“Only one more?” he asked.

“Before break,” Mr. Singh clarified.

“Oh.” Barry looked away sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah, I think I can do that.”

“Good.” Mr. Singh stood up and made his way towards the door. “And hey, you never know. This one could be the one!”

Barry forced a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

Mr. Singh disappeared behind the glass windows again, and in his place came another beautiful, black woman, as was the requirement on the auditioning ad. She was petite, even with her high heels on, and she had a smile that nearly blinded him, much like the others had. But when he stood up to shake her hand, he met her eyes, and something happened.

“Hi, I’m Iris.”

He stood there, leaving her hand untouched for what felt like a lifetime. He couldn’t figure out what was so different about her, but he just had a feeling – a really good one.

“Barry?”

He blinked and shook his head.

“Sorry, yes, I’m Barry.” He shook her hand. “And you’re Iris.”

“Iris West.”

She smiled brilliantly again, and he felt his knees go weak. He gestured to the chair and script behind her, and she snatched them up immediately, swinging one knee over the other after she sat down.

“Your lines are highlighted in yellow.”

She nodded. “I see that.”

“Right.”

He was starting to feel hot.

Was it possible to have a t-shirt feel too tight around one’s neck?

Barry turned to look through the glass windows again and saw Mr. Singh reach for his microphone.

“Hey, Iris,” came over the loudspeakers.

Iris was clearly startled, so Barry pointed to the wall next to them and the man waving through the sheet of glass.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Hello.” She waved a bit awkwardly. Barry found it cute.

“My name is David Singh. I’m the casting director for the show you auditioned for, Struck By Lightning. Your character’s name is Lily Lake and Barry’s here is Chase Tyler. He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember, but your character is oblivious. In your mind, the two of you are just best friends.”

Iris nodded. She obviously knew this already, but it was good to have a reminder before officially doing the chemistry test.

“As soon as you’re ready, you may begin,” Mr. Singh said, then sat back down and moved away from the microphone.

Barry and Iris’ eyes met again.

“Don’t be nervous,” Barry whispered. “You’re going to do great.” He smiled a little, and Iris felt reassured.

He looked down at his script and then back at her, beginning.

“Lily, hey! Fancy meeting you here.” He gave her the most impeccable heart eyes.

“Fancy?” Iris rolled her eyes, smiling a bit. “I live right down the block.”

The script then said for her to hit him playfully, but Iris had a better idea. She tickled him.

Barry squirmed a bit, genuinely ticklish where she’d touched him and had to get his bearings for a moment before returning to the script.

“I- I know that, Lily. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

“Well, start expecting me more, mister.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his breath caught in his throat.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

His brows furrowed, in character more than he’d ever been.

“You got the job!”

“I got the-?”

“You’re the new CSI!”

“Oh, my God, really?”

This time she did smack him playfully.

“Don’t make me tickle you again.” She giggled.

“Aaaand, cut!” came Mr. Singh’s voice over the loudspeakers again. “That was great, Iris. Thank you. We’ll give you a call if we’re interested.”

Iris smiled. “Thank you, David,” she said, pleasantly surprising him with the use of his first name. She turned back to Barry. “And you too, Barry.” She held her hand out for him to shake it, but he stood up and wrapped his arms lightly around her, giving her the gentlest, most appropriate hug he could under the circumstances.

“Thanks for coming in,” he said, with a smile, and nodded to her when she turned away, a bit flustered as she made her way out.

As soon as she was gone, Barry turned around in her seat and made his announcement before Mr. Singh could even open the door.

“She’s it! She’s the one!”

Mr. Singh grinned as he walked through the doorway.

“I think so, too. You two have really great chemistry. I haven’t seen anything like it with any of the other girls, and not for a while in the movies and shows I’ve casted either. She’s definitely got my vote.”

Barry couldn’t stop smiling.

“She’s it. She’s Lily Lake.”

“Want to go tell her? Or should we make her squirm for a bit?”

Barry could hardly sit still. Finally, he leapt up and headed for the door.

“I hope she’s still on the block!”

Once outside, Barry scanned the sea of people, some recognizing him and gushing or rolling their eyes. He smiled politely at all of them and then spotted who looked to be Iris on the other side of the crowd talking to someone on her phone with one finger in her other ear.

“Iris! Iris!”

He made his way through the crowd as fast as he could, saying her name over and over to get her attention.

“Iris! Iris West!”

“I’m sorry, Lin. I’m going to have to call you ba-”

He turned her around before she could hang up the call.

“Barry!” Her eyes widened. “What- What are you doing here?”

“You got the part!”

“What?!” She gasped, unbelievably excited, taking his hands and jumping a little with him.

Finally, they stopped and laughed a bit at their foolishness.

“You’re Lily Lake.”

Without stopping to think, Iris jumped into his arms and held him tight. When he set her down, she looked deep into his eyes and held his hands.

“I’m your Lily.”

And that was it. His stomach dropped. Butterflies.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[elleonmybeloved]

Fondly Dreamed

TERA (The Exiled Realm of Arborea) | Gen/Multi Words: 12,721 Chapter 2 Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024796/chapters/74517459

Summary: The titans Arun and Shara dream of a world they call Arborea. Arborea was never a peaceful world, but it was always beautiful and full of magical creatures. When one of their first and most powerful creations turned on them, they banished him to the underworld, Agaia. But the barrier between worlds is weakening, and corruption is beginning to invade Arborea, unmaking it's very essence and turning the world into a wasteland of Argon blue. Lest their sleeping forms and their precious world be destroyed, the sleeping titans dream of brave, strong heroes who can go against the very gods, and banish the corruption once and for all, before it is too late.

Yeriss dreams of glory in a world full of meaningless death. Sahlin dreams of freedom. Elleon dreams of acceptance. Jelena dreams of a world of smiles and laughter instead of blood and tears.

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

Moving with more care than she usually does, Yeriss balances a bowl of moongourd and noruk stew in one hand and a mug of apple cider in the other as she takes a seat on a flat looking stump next to one of the tents that are farther away from the campfire. Normally, she’d want to sit with her friends and chat during the rare time they have to socialize and have fun, but some kobold-brained idiot threw a painted scrap of wood in the fire and it’s stinking up the whole area around it. That, and Winra has been a real pain in the ass recently and she’s just not in the mood for her constant competitive quips. Especially since Sein seems to always take her side.

It’s been a week and a half since she first arrived. She’s pleased with how much she’s been contributing, but for some reason they only ever succeed to drive the monsters back for a day or two. Then suddenly there’s twice as many of them, and they lose the ground they won just as fast as they gained it.

Zoning out as she chews her food, it’s a minute before she realizes that she’s listening to a conversation coming faintly from the tent nearby.

“Another two gravely injured today.”

“Are the priests making any progress on their condition?”

“They’re trying their best, but we’ve run out of mana potions. The next shipment won’t be for some time.”

“Well that’s not good news. But slow healing is better than nothing. We need those soldiers back in the gorge as soon as possible.”

Yeriss recognizes the first voice as Tribune Adria, having been accustomed to hearing it at all hours of the day. The second one she’s not sure, but it’s a man’s voice.

“It’s like the supply of monsters is endless. It’s getting harder to keep them contained. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone is making them.” Adria complains, exasperatedly.

“It’s an island, the only thing past the gorge is a cliff and miles of sea water.” The man refutes. “But I know what you mean. Clearly there’s a source we don’t know about.”

“What if we sent a team to investigate? There’s one part of the island we’ve never been able to lay eyes on. A small group could sneak through, see what’s there.”

“That means getting past the hydraths. Who would we send? There’s only a few veterans among the soldiers who can even handle one. Sending anybody else would be a death sentence.”

“What about the squad that encountered one on accident the other day and survived?” Adria suggests.

“Oh right. From what I’ve heard, one of their group was stunned and couldn’t run, so their slayer uh... Yerenica, managed to take it down by herself.”

Yeriss perks up at the mention of herself, setting down her spoon. Invited along for the super important secret mission? Sounds like exactly where she wants to be. She smiles into her stew.

“Alright so her, Davina, Adrastus, Perrin, Jorhon…” Adria counts off. “Who else?”

“It’s a shame Leander refuses to help with anything other than his research until Elleon is found.” The man says with a sigh. “He’s the most experienced sorcerer on this island.”

“I wouldn’t risk asking him.” Adria replies in a cautionary tone. “Just yesterday I heard that he found one of Elleon’s twin swords, all muddied up with demonic magic. He was happy to get a clue after all this time but considering how foreboding of a sign it was, you can imagine the kind of mood he’s in.”

“Ugh, Goddess Velik have mercy… let’s assign one of the researchers working on the shields to help him. Jairus can complain all he wants, it’s about time we made progress on something. I swear, at this point it’s almost like Elleon doesn’t want to be found.”

“I won’t deny thinking we should just pack up and leave this island. What does Commander Seir even want with it anyway?”

“Oh he didn’t tell you?” Yeriss realizes then that Adria must be speaking to Consul Dougal, since he’s the only one who’d know Commander Seir’s plans. “Once we’ve cleared the whole thing top to bottom, he wants to set up a pegasus route and turn it into a private Federation training spot for all the brand new recruits. Private, defensible, and strictly regulated on who gets in and out. Away from prying eyes.”

“Really? I suppose more than half the island is beautiful and serene with plenty of open space and soft grass.”

“If you ask me, it’s not worth the effort.” Dougal says. “Especially with the Mysterium cracking down on us for entry. Not sure who leaked the info, but once they heard about the island and the World Tree, they demanded to be allowed entry to study it as soon as the island is safe for non-combatants.”

“Don’t let the poporian recruits hear that.” Adria says. “They’ve been quite protective of that tree.”

“That so? Honestly I’m kind of surprised they recognize it as a real tree.” Dougal remarks. “It certainly doesn’t look like one.”

Yeriss listens a bit longer, but they don’t say much else before Adria leaves the tent. She doesn’t look back and see her, instead making a beeline for the food table down the hill. Relatable.

Finishing the last, somewhat cold bites of her own meal, Yeriss springs up and takes her dishes over to the collection area with a pep in her step. It’s really nice to see that her abilities have been noticed by her higher ups. She’s got a feeling she and that group will find something that finally brings some changes to this island.

~~~

It’s not a surprise when instead of gathering with her squad the next morning, Tribune Adria is outside her tent waiting for her.

“I’ve got a special job for you, Yerenica. You interested?”

“Does it involve using my sword, or using a broom and dustpan?” Yeriss asks cheekily, remembering that she’s not supposed to already know about the mission. “Because that changes my answer.”

“Definitely your sword. Though if you were a witch like Sorcha, maybe you’d be using one of those other things.” Adria says, gesturing at her to come with her. “Let’s go, I’ll debrief you in the war tent.”

The war tent is a big red thing, with heavy fabric curtains and a large Valkyon Federation symbol made of metal atop it. Important people like Vene, Aide to the Vanarch, Consul Dougal, Tribune Adria, Leander, and Jairus are the only ones she sees regularly using it. When Adria holds the heavy curtain aside to allow Yeriss entry, she can’t help the pleased smile that pulls at her lips. This is where she’s meant to be.

Inside, Consul Dougal stands behind a table covered in maps. To his left, stands a group of other soldiers she recognizes from around the island.

“Welcome. As you know, despite our continued siege on the gorge, the monsters easily replenish their numbers. It’s more than likely that they are coming from somewhere, which is what we need to find out. Our researchers have pin-pointed the source of the corruptive mana somewhere in the southeast of the gorge.” Dougal pauses briefly. “Past the hydraths. You all are here because at some point or another, you’ve managed to prove your own in battle against one. We need you to get past them and investigate the source of the corruption and report back.”

“Ideally, you won’t have to fight the hydraths.” Adria adds. “Best case scenario: you sneak past them without being noticed. We have a general idea of what you should be looking for, but I’ll let Volis here explain the details on that.”

At her gesture, a high elf man carrying a tall staff steps forward from the group of soldiers. “This entire island is covered in unique magic that seems to emanate from the World Tree. It is the source of it’s thriving nature and the reason so many fey have come to life here.” He begins.

“It is also the reason why the corruptive dark mana present in the Tainted Gorge is able to twist the fey into monsters so easily. I, and the others researching this have managed to extract a core full of this dark mana from a corrupted sporewalker found in the Timeless Woods. Channeling energy into it with my staff should allow me to lead you in the direction of the source of the corruption.”

Volis pauses for a moment, considering. “The researchers and I are not sure if the source is an artifact, or a being, or several beings. Regardless, the magnitude of dark mana being produced and at such a rate suggests either something big, or perhaps the presence of many beings capable of summoning dark magic. It’s too painful to withstand the energy long enough to study it to be sure. Therefore, investigating it directly is unfortunately necessary.”

With a polite nod, he steps back, having finished his remarks.

“Once you find the source of the corruption, destroy it, if you can.” Adria says. “If it’s too dangerous, don’t do anything rash and just report back so that we can organize a charge with more forces.”

“Through the hydrath’s territory?” Yeriss asks. She’s surprised that they would put the regular forces up against something so dangerous. When it comes to hydraths, strength in numbers helps little, unless you know what you’re doing. “Wouldn’t there be casualties?”

“It’s almost certain.” Adria replies reluctantly. “But it’s the only way to destroy the corruption on the Island for good. We’ve expended more resources than we should have already.”

That’s not encouraging to hear. Yeriss vows that she won’t let it come to that anyways.

After answering some of the other soldiers' questions, everyone kits up, and Dougal and Adria are ready to send the group of soldiers on their way.

“Goddess Velik go with you.” Their tone is grave, like they expect the worst.

As her fellow soldiers reply in various versions of determined “Victory for Valkyon”s, all Yeriss feels is excitement. Instead of the usual path to Arun Heights, Yeriss finally gets to go down the other path to the east this time. Wild and seldom walked, the natural foliage of the island encroaches on the path.

It’s pretty at first, but the further south they go, the grayer and coarser the plant life. Unlike Arun Heights hill, the path to the hydrath’s territory is a much more gradual downward slope.

When they come upon the old bridge that leads across the ravine to the gorge, Yeriss doesn’t need Volis’s warning to know that there are hydraths ahead. Several of them line the path on the other side of the bridge, and unlike the other metallic-grey ones she’s seen, these are a striking deep shade of onyx. With two of the three shields that protect the Federation’s territory on the island behind them, only a single layer of magic holds back the palpable corruption.

“In order to get past though without being seen, we’ll have to go through that brush on the side of the hill there.” Jorhon, the older looking human man with a large battle axe strapped to his back says, pointing at it. “Nothing else looks thick enough.”

The tallest members of their group are Perrin, the high elf lancer, and Volis. Both light-skinned and two differing shades of blonde, they present the highest risk of being seen. Yeriss on the other hand, has nothing to worry about. Her red-tinted skin and dark horns blend in well with the thorny, corrupted brush and sparse trees.

“I’ll wait for the nearest one to turn it’s back before I bring down the shield.” Volis says as he lifts his staff.

Yeriss sees he intends to lift the stone up with magic, and back down for only a brief moment.

“I am not certain but it’s likely that if we can sense the dark energy in these monsters, they too could sense the clean, uncorrupted feeling of our own. We must be swift in breaking for the bushes, lest we are seen. Are we ready?”

Yeriss looks to the members of her group, who all nod in tandem. “Do it.”

“Go!”

At Volis’s cry, the group takes off across the bridge. The rotting old wood is thick, but noisy, and though she is light on her feet the sound of their haste is audible. It’s but a few seconds later that they hurtle into the brush for cover. As they catch their breath and cast worried glances out towards the hydraths, they are relieved to see they made it undetected.

“It’s like I always say.” Adrastus, the other lancer, a castanic like her, quips. “Keep your eyes on your opponents and your feet moving at all times.”

Davina cracks a smile at this. “I’m pretty sure not a day has gone by that I haven’t heard you say that to every new recruit that sets foot on this island.” Her twin daggers snip quietly as she cuts a path through errant twigs for them to walk through.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Adrastus says when they’re about halfway through. “Look at that.”

He’s pointing somewhere ahead of them. Past three onyx hydraths, floating about as they do, is an archway made of a dark pink-red stone. Short horizontal spikes poke out from the outside of the arch starting halfway up. The bottom half of each side sports a sconce in which a burning torch burns. A strange pink and gray orb of energy floats above the archway. Behind it, the entrance to a large cave.

The corrupted sporewalker core at the top of Volis’s staff starts to pulse and glow the same color as the orb above the archway.

“The source of the corruption…” Volis murmurs quietly. “It must be inside that cave.”

“This is strange.” Jorhon remarks. “Those archways are too well crafted and delicately engraved to be made by the hands of any of the large monsters we’ve observed here. Could it be that the corruption of the fey is not a coincidence, but intentional?”

“You mean there’s other humanoid races on the island apart from the Federation?” Davina says slowly. “That’s not good.”

“We’ve seen no evidence of any other intelligent races on the island, though.” Perrin refutes. “How could there be? Perhaps it is an older relic, like the World Tree.”

The sinister spikes of the archway look nothing remotely like the World Tree. But the confusion of trying to make ends of the situation before them swirls around them like the tepid air. Yeriss can’t think of anything either. That stuff has never been her strong suit.

“So… let’s get a closer look and find out.” She says, not seeing the point in further speculating.

“Alright.” Adrastus lifts a leg to stretch his quadricep in anticipation of another run. “We’ll have to be fast to get past those hydraths, I say we rac-.”

“Wait.” Jorhon cuts in. “It’s too risky. If we’re seen, we’ll be in for a fight with three of them at the least, and all the ones we saw on the way at most. And there’s no guarantee there aren’t even more of them waiting inside the cave.”

“There’s a large boulder over there we could hide behind.” Volis points to the right of the cave. “I could cloak our presence, but only for a time. The dark energy here depletes my mana reserves.”

Perrin and Jorhon look to each other, and then to Volis.

“A risky wager, but the Federation needs this information. We shouldn’t give up the chance to destroy the source of the corruption until all other options have been exhausted.” Perrin says.

“Very well.” Jorhon acquiesces.

Volis’s staff hums with energy as he casts the spell. As soon as the distortion settles around them, they run out of the foliage for the cover of the boulder. Adrastus is first to duck behind the rock, Yeriss hot on his heels. Sprinting headlong across the dirt, Perrin, Jorhon, and Volis are but five strides away, with Davina a short distance behind them due to her much smaller gait.

Suddenly, Volis goes pale. With a flicker, the distortive veil spell lifts off the group. The three men just barely make it behind the rock before being seen.

Unmistakable screeching, and a sound like an allemantheian power generator being turned on break the silence. Clearly aware of having been seen, Davina stands frozen in spot, mind whirling. Realizing that she can’t let the hydrath know of the others’ location, she whispers“ Go on without me” and gives them a brief, reassuring smile. Then she whirls on her feet, running to the side to draw it away from them. Unable to risk looking out in front of the rock, all the information they get is the fading sound of the hydrath’s low hum and it’s hissing metallic snake heads.

“Shit.” Adrastus curses.

“My deepest apologies.” Volis sounds distraught, words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “The dark mana was stronger than I anticipated-”

“It’s not your fault Volis.” Jorhon interrupts him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We knew this was risky.”

“...” Volis doesn’t look like this comforts him, his features are twisted into an expression of guilt.

“What shall we do now?” Perrin asks. “It is unlikely we will be able to assist her without alerting the rest of the hydraths. If we do so, it will be impossible to get back to this point.”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Adrastus asks incredulously. “We go back through the brush and try to find her without getting seen, forget the mission.”

Yeriss blinks. “Forget the mission? No! We can’t give up now, we haven’t even found the true source of the corruption yet. We’d be going back completely empty handed.”

“That’s better than going back without Davina!” Adrastus shoots back. “Don’t you know who she is?”

“Huh?”

“She’s the younger sister of one of Consul Dougal’s best friends!”

Yeriss doesn’t see the issue, but the reminder apparently affects the rest of the group deeply, each face suddenly drawn. No way. They’re really going to stop when they’re less than twenty meters away? The entrance to the cave is right there!

“Didn’t he and Adria pick each of us specifically because we’d proven our ability to go one on one with a hydrath before? Didn’t Davina herself just say for us to go on ahead without her? The Federation needs this Island!” Yeriss insists impatiently.

It must be because they don’t know, she thinks, that the Federation doesn’t have long to secure and claim the island before the Mysterium starts bearing down on them. And everyone knows once the Mysterium gets its hands on a site they want to research, it’s too late to do anything to disturb the area. Not to mention build a training base on it.

“Perrin?” Yeriss turns to him, hoping for back-up due to his earlier comment. Perrin is silent. “Volis?”

The answer on the high elf’s face is clear. Yeriss can’t believe this. “No way. You know how bad the corruption is.” She reminds him. “We need to at least find it so that you and the researchers can come up with a way to destroy it, right?”

“...Davina getting seen was my own mistake.” Volis says, guilt overtaking his expression. “I must go see it rectified.”

Clearly unanimous in their decision, Yeriss tries one last ditch attempt to convince them. “How about we kill these two hydraths and then try to signal her? You can do that with your magic, can’t you Volis?”

The group actually considers this for a moment.

“That would mean taking on two of them at once, while down one of us. I wouldn’t bet on those odds.” Perrin says slowly.

No wonder he carries such a big shield. Coward. Has he really taken one down on his own before?

“I’ve killed one before and I can do it again.” Yeriss says firmly. “Don’t worry. This is what we’re here to do, Perrin.”

“What about Davina?”

“She’s not the type to lie is she?” From what Yeriss knows of the younger castanic, she’s kind and honest to a fault. Rare qualities for one of her kind. “She can handle herself.”

“No. Unlike normal hydraths, these onyx ones are brutal.” Jorhon says, with a tone of finality. “I witnessed them take down a whole squad of soldiers during the first expedition. We’re going to save Davina before it’s too late.”

This is ridiculous! A veteran from the First Expedition, and he’s afraid of two measly monsters that they outnumber more than two to one! Frustration boils up inside her at his commanding tone. It’s as if he is in charge, and she is just a rookie. She’s earned her place here more than any of these pigling-nerved cowards.

“You’ll be going without me then.”

“What?” Adrastus’s grey eyes bug wide like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t like going back with nothing to show either, but come on Yerenica, it’s too dangerous on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid of a few hydraths. And I won’t need to, if you come with me.”

“Enough of this.” Jorhon says dismissively. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Yeriss is shocked. “Who made you the leader? Can’t you at least consider my plan?”

“The longer we delay, the more likely it could be too late to help Davina. Let’s go.”

This time, Volis is meticulously careful with his spell, and the group makes it back into the brush without complication. But as they all flicker back into sight, Yeriss reappears across from them, still behind the boulder. Jorhon’s eyes bore into hers, willing her to come. She stares right back, unintimidated. After a moment’s hesitation, they leave, creeping along the foliage on the very edge of it this time, in the direction Davina went.

When they are gone, a bit of doubt swirls in her chest. Should she have done that? She hadn’t meant to lose her temper… Jorhon’s authoritative tone echoes in her mind, and anger replaces the doubt. The way he’d spoken to her… Yeriss seethes. Enough caring what everyone else thought. If he was going to treat her like an underling, she’d just have to prove that she wasn’t one.

Yeriss risks a peek out from behind the boulder to assess the current situation. The two hydraths are still there. She could take them out, like she suggested earlier. But now that she’s alone, she’s got another option.

Picking up a loose bit of rock from the bottom of the boulder, she rears back and launches it over the top of the rock as far away from her as possible. It strikes something in the distance. Once she hears the hovering hum sound of the hydrath’s movement fade, she makes for the cave entrance. It’s easy, and she’s not being pursued at all. With a last bound she makes it inside, and darkness swallows her up almost immediately.

Yeriss steps further inside. Squinting her eyes at the drastic change in light, she waits impatiently for her eyes to adjust.

“It’s darker than Poporia after Karas cursed it in here.” She mutters.

Eventually giving up on waiting, she just walks sideways until she hits the wall, and then places a hand against it to follow it. Quickly, the level ground slopes downward. It would be bad if she were to trip, but the ground is surprisingly free of the kind of rocks and debris you’d expect in a cave, instead having the consistency of a well-walked path.

A ways ahead of her are glowing torch lights. To her surprise, it sounds like there are people ahead. How could anyone have possibly gotten here before her? Rushing forward to get a closer look, she sees people who look very much like her, but... a foot or two taller with much bigger horns. Devas! They all wear a similar style of garb: pointy red linmetal armor with a motif on the chest like a plant with three branches sticking out straight on each side and atop it, a horizontal eye surrounded by a diamond. Her relief that they are not federation recruits who beat her here is short-lived.

I feel like I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before… but regardless, the Deva relentlessly worship evil gods. Could they be the source of the corruption?

“Lord Kugai,” One of them says as they take a knee to another. “We chased the elf through the catacombs, but he was too fast. He managed to destroy all of the mana potions in the cache we stole. What shall I tell our sorcerers?”

“Take heart, my friend. Our trials are many but Lok watches over us and will commend us for our efforts when he returns. Encourage them to continue channeling Karascha’s energy into the Divine Tree for as long as they can. Our sources within the Federation tell us that supply ships are to arrive within the week, or perhaps even sooner in light of their continued defeat to our pets in the Gorge.”

Yeriss stiffens. Sources within the Federation? The very idea of a traitor in the Federation is almost unthinkable.

“Will mana potions be among the supplies?” The devan subordinate asks.

“It’s almost certain. There are many gravely wounded among their number and there’s no doubt their priests are struggling to keep up.” The devan lord, Kugai, clasps his hands together. “Unlike Lakan, Lok will not forsake us. See to it that the sorcerers maintain their spell.”

“Yes, my lord. But what about the elf?”

“Hmm… he cannot stay hidden forever. Like us, he will need food and water. We will deal with him when he next reveals himself.”

“Surely it would be faster to hunt him down. I could assemble a task force-”

“No. Every available member of our fold must remain guarding the sorcerers. Karascha is strong enough to hold his own, but should we lose our connection to the World Tree, our resurrection ritual will be interrupted.”

“As you wish, sir. I will go notify them that the potions they expected will be delayed.”

Despite her knowledge that they are in fact of the same race, hearing this cult’s ridiculous intentions to revive Lok , the god who tricked them into killing Balder, whose demonic remains literally corrupt the lands of Essenia still to this day makes Yeriss angry. Like a stain that refuses to wash out, Devas have always been a smear on all castanics’ reputations. Stuff like this is why everyone assumes you’re up to no good if you’ve got horns and red skin. As if suffering the scalding pain of getting her markings as a teen wasn’t enough of a punishment.

Yeriss grits her teeth and grips the handle of her greatsword. Including Lord Kugai, there’s maybe fifteen of them in the room.

Launching herself out the shadows, she swings her sword hard across the turned backs of the three cultists nearest her. The loud clang of her sword against their armor alerts the others, and with a shocked pause they watch as the other cultists collapse to the ground dead. A large dent in the armor of their lower backs reveals the blow that shattered their spines.

“Intruder!” Belatedly, the others shout and draw their weapons.

Deflecting the hasty blow of a greataxe, she quickly reverses and catches their side and shoulder in an upward sweep. Most of them are using typical devan twin curved blades, and with a great thrust she skewers through several before they can get near enough to cut at her.

“You, go alert the others, we need reinforcements!” Lord Kugai commands one of the cultists at his side.

Unwilling to be overwhelmed in such an enclosed space, Yeriss uses her sword to vault her up over the wall of enemies in front of her and uses the force of her leap to bring her sword down hard on the retreating back of the cultist. The devan screams out in surprise and collapses to her knees. Yeriss brings her sword back up just in time to block Lord Kugai’s blade, and stumbles back a step from the force of it. Pain rattles up her arms.

“Nice try.” She bites, before slamming him back. Before she can take advantage of his vulnerability, there’s someone beside her raising their axe in rage. There’s not much space to fully roll out of the way, so as she comes up out of the roll she brings her sword up in a left to right sweeping motion, catching the cultists across it as her blade travels sideways, making space. Several of them slam against the cave wall.

While slashing in front of her to drive back three cultists trying to rush her with stabbing thrusts, she notices a retreating horned form disappearing down the tunnel. Damned cultists. Her moment of distraction costs her a cut to her upper arm and two across her shoulder.

The three of them that are left, and Kugai, advance towards her. Kugai comes straight at her while the others break off to the side. Not allowing herself to be completely surrounded, she thrusts as hard as she can into the cultist to her right, before swinging around her blade, using their body as a buffer between her and Kugai.

Holding her greatsword out lengthwise in front of her warningly, she addresses Kugai directly. “Tell them to stop this ritual, or I’ll strike you down! How many real people will you sacrifice to resurrect an evil god better off dead?”

Reinforcements arrive then, what must be twenty more armed cultists sealing off the tunnel exits. Yeriss doesn’t budge.

“Not a chance!” Kugai spits back, emboldened by the return of favorable odds. “How dare you call our lord evil? Lok may have killed Balder, but it was a tragic accident. He was tricked by Ishara! All Lok’s life, he was a force for good, and a beloved child of Karas and Elinu just as Balder was!” Kugai yells, and lunges at her. “He will free us just like he did the amani from their chains!”

Yeriss dodges one blade and deflects the other, but the movement drives her too close to two others behind her. One knocks her greatsword from her grip while the other binds her to them in a crushing grasp.

“As one of our kind, you should share his burden! We endure this pain for him!” The cultist behind her, a woman, hisses into her ear as she struggles to escape her grip, only bloodying her elbow as it meets hard plating instead of flesh as she throws a jab behind her. “You will make an excellent servant for our lord as a hydrath. You and that blighted elf. Be honored!”

“Indeed. A most fitting arrangement.” Lord Kugai seems to like this idea, sheathing one twin blade. He reaches out to pry her armor away from her stomach, and Yeriss suddenly realizes how hydraths are made. He intends to sever her at the waist! Yeriss squirms harder, but to no avail.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree. I don’t much like the idea of living life half upside down with a woman I hardly know.” A new voice breaks through the excited bloodthirsty silence of the cultists. Kugai relinquishes his grip on her armor and whirls around to look for the source.

“Though I’m sure you’re excellent company, my reckless friend,” The voice continues, “Not many a sense of humor survives a demonic ritual.”

Everyone turns to face the tunnel on their right, where a tall high elf man stands on top of the fallen bodies of the four guarding it. Behind him several others are slumped lifeless against the wall.

Taking advantage of their surprise, Yeriss grips the arms of her captor hard, hanging all her weight on them before she swings her lower body forward and kicks Kugai hard in the side. The shift in her weight causes her captor to drop her, and Yeriss rolls to her side on the floor where her greatsword fell, picking it up as she leaps to her feet.

“It’s a good thing I don’t intend to be a part of any demonic rituals then.” She calls back to her helper. This must be the elf they mentioned sabotaging their potions. His dirtied silver armor somehow glints brightly in the dim light. “But I’m great company for crashing one. Or ten.”

“What great news. I just joined the market for such a person. There’s a really ugly one going on-'' He pauses to block a blow from one of the greataxe-wielding cultists, then dispatches the devan man with a double bladed stab that he rips outward in both directions. “-Not too far from here.”

That must be the source of the corruption! It’s a relief she doesn’t have to look for it without Volis’s guidance.

“Count me in.” Yeriss smacks her blade across several enemies in a great knockdown strike, sending them rolling like bowling balls. Another cultist tries to get in close, but her quick reflexes have them skewered on her sword first. “That’s exactly what I came here for.”

Reinforcements already more than halved, Kugai seems to notice that his people are losing this battle. He turns to retreat to the tunnel, but Yeriss is already flinging herself across the room, landing on his back in a tumbling tackle.

“Not so fast, mister holy worshipper. What happened to being willing to sacrifice yourself for your precious Lok?” She taunts, struggling to keep the large devan man pinned. In the corner of her eye she notices the high elf man send the last two cultists crumpling to the ground. “I’ll spare you if you tell us how to stop the corruption.”

“No need, my reckless friend.” The elf says, coming up on her side. “I already know. There’s a large, evil demon made from Lok’s demonic remains further down in this cave. Kill it, and we kill off their corrupting source.”

“Hah! Kill it? You’ll never manage to kill Karascha. Even if you could, you wouldn’t get past the shield to our sorcerers. Death will only release the rest of his corruptive essence all at once.” Kugai bites out, and Yeriss grips him by the horns to push his face in the dirt where it belongs. “It’s only a matter of time before we take over the divine essence left in the World Tree. Lok will live again!”

Choosing to believe the elf over the desperate cultist, she brings her greatsword down through the back of his chest, silencing Kugai for good. After the devan chokes out his last breath, Yeriss stands up and dusts herself off. A large circular object rolls out of the dead cultist lord’s hand - a metallic thing the size of a compass, with the same diamond eye symbol they all wear on it. Yeriss takes it for herself. War trophy.

“So.” The high elf man’s gaze flickers from her face down to the federation crest on her neck. “‘Yerenica.’ Congratulations on officially being the first Federation soldier to make it down here in weeks. At all, actually. Why are you by yourself?”

The question throws Yeriss off guard. For a second, she doubts her decision to press on alone. But no, she was right in coming here. The Federation needs this island, and nobody back at base even has a clue that there were Lokian Cultists here. The high elf probably just thinks the rest of her squad died or something.

“Because I’m the only one on my squad who Kaia gave any balls, apparently.” She says boldly, meeting his curious gaze. “What about you?” She turns the question back on him, pointedly looking at his armor, distinctly lacking in an identifying badge.

After all, upon closer examination, he doesn’t look like a Federation soldier. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, although some high elves do have a naturally gray pallor to their skin. Certainly handsome, but there’s no mistaking those dark circles. It’s almost like eye shadow.

“Ah, right. I forgot to include myself in that count, eh? I’m not really a soldier but I am part of the Valkyon Federation, rest assured. My name is Elleon.”

Yeriss’s eyes bug. Elleon? The Elleon Kubel, argon war hero and missing leader of the First Expedition? All of a sudden the gray pallor of his skin seems more like silver, and the gold of his eyes shinier.

“Did you know your brother is looking for you?” Is all she can think to say.

Elleon raises a brow. “Leander is here? That didn’t take long. Why isn’t he with you, then?”

“Actually, Dougal and Adria did ask him to come along on our mission, but he refused to do anything not directly related to finding you as quickly as possible. He’s been here looking for almost two weeks already. The second best sorcerer on the island had to come in his stead.”

Elleon blinks. “Ah. All of a sudden the wind of Zenobia is beneath my feet. Let us make haste to the demon’s lair, my friend.” He’s already moving by the time he finishes talking, not even throwing a glance over his shoulder to confirm his words.

Yeriss bounds after him, pausing to grab a torch off a wall sconce, and follows Elleon’s lead through the tunnels. They pass many banners sporting the red diamond eye of Lok, and crates marked with the federation crest. Stolen, no doubt. Eventually the cave opens up into a wide underground cavern. High above them is a large pink orb of energy, like the one outside the cave. Strange arched windows filled with colorful stained glass adorn each wall of the cave, like some kind of underground church. Something large shifts in the shadows, and moves into sight.

“It’s a vulcan.” Yeriss remarks with a surprised whisper as she takes in Karascha’s form. “But purple. And with wings.”

“You say that like you’ve seen one before.”

“Yeah, I’ve got lots of experience taking these down. They’re supposed to be green, though.”

“Hmm.” Elleon muses. “Now that you mention it, the color is remarkably similar to the cursed remains of Lok south of Tria in the Blighted Wood, eh?”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve never been to Shara… what’s that behind it?” Yeriss asks, looking at the large arched doorway behind the demon. Instead of a door, a magic barrier shimmers across an invisible surface, veiling whatever is in the room on the other side.

“The core of the World Tree, and all of Kugai’s precious sorcerers. Perhaps fourty in number. Karascha sends his essence through the barrier and they channel it into the core, corrupting it. It is a delicate process.” Elleon smirks. “Kugai was quite confident despite knowing this. Killing the demon will release massive energy, true. But their sorcerers are tired and all but drained of mana. This is the perfect time for us to strike to kill.”

“Great! What are we waiting for?” Yeriss sets the torch down and unsheathes her greatsword. Before she can charge into the cavern, Elleon outstretches a hand in front of her, blocking her path.

“Not so fast, my reckless friend. You should know this is not some mindless beast. Be wary of Karascha’s curses- try to prevent him from casting them, if you can.”

Before Yeriss can ask what he means, a deep two-timbre voice booms through the cavern. “So, the meddling elf is back for another beating. I see you’ve brought a friend with you this time. Hah!” The demon’s laughter grates like gravel. “You should’ve brought an army.”

A large stone collides with the tunnel wall beside them. The two of them instinctively dodge out the way of the flying debris, sending them further into the room.

Recovering from her shock of a vulcan talking, Yeriss rises up and races towards Karascha, sword high.

“He doesn’t need an army. He’s got me.” She says with a grin, dodging the demon’s fist as it pummels the ground behind her, and slashes the demon across the chest. Karascha steps back from the blow, and Elleon is behind him ready, raking his blades down the demon’s back. Roaring, the demon suddenly extends his wings and swipes in front of him at the same time, sending the two of them flying.

Yeriss gasps as her back hits the wall painfully. Elleon tumbles backward to a rough stop. But with a shared look, they are up again, moving in sync as they approach the demon. This time Yeriss stabs for the heart, but Karascha dodges and her greatsword instead screeches across the metal plate guarding the demon’s neck, throwing up sparks. Dark red, almost black blood bursts from Karascha’s shoulder as the tip of one of Elleon’s blades appears through the flesh.

Karascha shakes like a dog, trying to dislodge the elf from his back. Yeriss plunges her greatsword through the other shoulder. Before she can try to drive her blade downward, a huge hand suddenly grasps her face. She hears a muffled outcry of pain from Elleon, but can’t see what happened to him.

Letting go of her sword, she struggles to escape the crushing grip that digs into the back of her head, feeling warm blood trickle down her neck from where the claws of the beast pierce her skin. It’s not working, but Yeriss has horns. Instead of trying to get out of the grip, she takes both hands and forces it down hard on her head, impaling the demon’s hand on her horns.

Suddenly she is free, and she falls to her knees to gasp for air. Dizzily scrambling to her feet, she closes in again, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the demon’s non-injured hand to grasp her greatsword -still embedded in Karascha’s shoulder- and yanks downwards as hard as she can. Karascha screams out in pain, a noise that rattles Yeriss’s ears. Unable to help it, she hastily pulls out her greatsword and gets away from the loud sound. As she backs away, Elleon steps up behind her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. He’s limping slightly, and she sees blood staining the silver armor of his right leg.

“Pests that don’t understand anything and get in the way should just die!” Karascha yells, and then begins chanting in a demonic language. Yeriss can’t distinguish the sounds well, but he seems to repeat something that sounds like Haargwahrosh . The long claws that are attached to his glove begin to glow an eerie blue, siphoning energy from the pink ball hovering high in the air above the arch.

Behind her, Elleon stiffens. “Not good. We must stop him, or we’ll suffer.”

Karascha is chanting Ganiir-bolohosh now. Lacking inspiration on how else to shut him up, Yeriss leans back and chucks her greatsword, blade-first, right at Karascha’s face. By luck, and some decent aim, her sword slips through the grate of his face plate. She can’t see what damage she’s done, but the demon’s dark blood pools and seeps through the face plate to splatter on the ground. Stunned into silence, it takes Karascha a moment to react.

In the most ginger manner a demon can have, it extricates her blade from it’s face and tosses it aside, the metal clanging against the stone floor of the cave. Before she can react, Karascha slams his fist on the ground in front of her, shattering the stone and sending her flying towards the stained glass window. Yeriss crashes into the window, breaking the glass and sending shards flying. Nothing is behind the window but the hard stone of the wall, and her body bounces off it and she slides down to crumple on the ground, leaving a trail of blood in her wake where the shards of glass have embedded in her back past her zalisleather armor.

Though the wounds aren’t deep, the collision knocked the air out of her. For a minute all she can do is kneel and try to breathe. Karascha gives a sadistic laugh of pleasure, and makes to close in. Before he can take so much as a step, Elleon is sailing through the air and slashing both swords through the demon’s wings. There is a heavy thump as they slump uselessly to the ground. The ruined stumps of Karascha’s wings give a twitch as he shakes in dismay. Before Yeriss can blink, the demon is reaching behind him, snatching up the elf, and throwing him to the ground.

Already scrambling up off her knees, she sees Elleon’s attempt to push himself up fail as his injured leg gives. Karascha’s claws glint in the darkness as he rears back.

“No, stop!” She yells, desperately launching herself in between the two.

Just barely catching the blow, Karascha’s claws, intended for Elleon, collide with the flat of her blade instead. Yeriss stumbles back a couple steps. Unwilling to be thwarted, the demon continues to press back against her sword. In moments, her arm begins to tremble, and sweat rolls down the back of her neck, stinging the small wounds there. Her stance was hasty, and her footing doesn’t lend her much strength. But letting go means the death of her new friend, so she won’t.

Bending her knees and shifting her feet as much as she can, she stabilizes herself and renews the strength of her push. Behind her, Elleon grunts as he shakes off his daze and tries to get up, but his wounded leg gives under him and he stumbles back down.

Locking eyes with the gleam of the demon’s own beyond it’s daunting faceplate, Yeriss realizes the beast’s strain mirrors her own. The blood he loses will continue to weaken him. In seconds, she will win. As if also realizing this, Karascha suddenly begins his chant again in haste.

“Haargwahrosh, haargwahrosh, ganiir-bolohosh, ganiir-bolohosh-”

“No no no, shut up you son of an orcan!” She struggles to move against the stalemate, knowing she has to silence him before he can-

“Yeprasiabalolosh!”

There’s a brief moment of quiet dread, and then across her body, a quiet heat begins to grow. Uncomfortable quickly grows to terrible, sizzling heat all over her stomach, arms, legs, and back. Pressing her lips together she struggles not to loosen her grip, unable to stop a whimper as reflexive tears start to drip down her face. She’s only ever felt pain like this in her life once before. After she finished her Crucible. A pained grunt behind her confirms her companion’s own suffering.

“Stupid little thing. You dared to defy Lok and his servants with his very mark upon you.” The demon laughs wetly. “It amplifies the pain of my curse two-fold.”

“Ngh… aaargh!” Yeriss bites down her screams, refusing to give the demon any additional satisfaction. “Don’t be... so smug when... you can’t even win a fair fight!” She trembles all over, but stubbornly refuses to let go, holding her blade fast against the demon’s claws.

Suddenly, Karascha stumbles to the side and her greatsword slides free as the demon’s claws leave the interlock. Her first thought is that he succumbed to his wounds, but then she sees a fresh deep gash across the demon’s legs. Elleon is crouched to the side of them, blood dripping off his twin swords, and she realizes that he must have rolled between them to land the blow. Genius.

Wasting no time in pressing their advantage, Yeriss uses all her willpower to ignore the pain that courses through her body like a livewire and whacks the demon hard with the flat of her greatsword, sending him tumbling. When he’s on the ground she leaps up and drives her blade straight down. Karascha’s armor does nothing to deflect such a direct hit, and she pierces the demon through the heart. The curse dies with him.

Shuddering with relief as her markings stop burning, she watches the last twitch of the demon’s death throes. When Karascha is finally still, she straightens up and turns to Elleon.

“It’s dead.” She announces matter-of-factly.

Elleon blinks and gives a breathless laugh as he gingerly rises to his feet. “Are you sure? Better poke it a few times in case it’s just playing, eh?”

“It’s not a city garbage rat.” Yeriss says, but taps the demon’s face plate with the tip of her greatsword a couple times. “Yep, definitely dea-”

Before she can finish, there’s a boom as the pink orb explodes overhead, and in the room ahead. Elleon flinches and assumes an instinctive combat stance, but all that happens is a brief rain of particles of magic as they fall and dissipate around them.

Relaxing, Elleon re-sheathes his swords. “Ah. Now it is dead.”

“What was that?”

“Just as I expected, Kugai told no lie that killing Karascha would release all his demonic energy at once. And just as I expected, his sorcerers would be too drained and too few to contain the blast. We should go check to make sure, however.”

Yeriss nods and jumps down off Karascha. They approach the arched doorway. It still shimmers with energy, but turns a different color when they get near it. Hands resting on their weapons, they step in.

~~~

Materializing on the other side of the barrier as they cross through, Yeriss sees that Elleon was right in his prediction. The bodies of the devan sorcerers lay collapsed around the great roots of the tree. Not only was Karascha’s energy too much for them to contain, in its potency, it killed them. It’s a relief. Tired and wounded from the fight with Karascha, it would have been a pain in the ass to fight a bunch of pissed off cultist sorcerers. She would’ve done it of course, gladly, but there would have been complaints afterward. Many complaints.

One last moving devan sorcerer, a woman, crawls feebly towards the rapidly fading light of Karascha’s energy as it drains from the root of the tree.

“No… no…” She sobs weekly. Her breathing is harsh and labored, each breath a great wheeze. When she sees the two of them, her expression contorts into grief. “How could you? We were finally going to be-” She breaks off with a wheezing cough. “Free!”

“Zuras, Balder, Lakan, every living creature from Arun to Shara… have forsaken us. Slaughtered us.” She sounds so bitter, Yeriss feels a pang of guilt. “ I just wanted to live in peace with my son. I thought…”

For several moments the woman is silent and still, and for a second Yeriss thinks she is dead. But when she steps tentatively closer, she sees the woman’s lip trembling as she gazes at something fallen on the ground in front of her. It’s an open locket with a bundle of brown hair, just like the woman’s own. With a final breath, the woman’s gaze hazes over and she slumps against the ground.

Wow. Yeriss takes in a deep shaky breath, not having expected that at all. Processing what she just witnessed, it takes her a minute to realize that Elleon is looking at her strangely. Feeling the burning of his gaze, she feels pressured to say… something.

“I won’t lie. My kind have it rough, and in the past it was much worse.” She raises her chin and meets his eyes. “But resurrecting a demon god? I know that would have only brought more evil and pain to this world. I’m proud of what we did.”

“Good.” Elleon’s gaze goes distant for a moment, as though being reminded of something. “It is one thing to do evil. To be evil is another. It’s... a shame that some are driven to such extremes by circumstance.”

“Did that happen to someone close to you?” She guesses tentatively, from the tone of his voice.

“Me? No. I was thinking of the traitor within the Federation, actually. I am lucky to say I fully trust those closest to me never to betray me, no matter how dire the circumstances.”

“Oh right!” Yeriss recalls the vassal’s earlier words to Kugai. She’d forgotten about it in the chaos. She kneels on the ground to take a closer look at the fallen sorcerer closest to her. “They said ‘ sources within the Federation .’ Could there really be a traitor so high up they’d know about the top secret Island?”

“Yes. I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but being here confirmed them. It seems even being chosen to lead the First Expedition was planned as a way to get rid of me.” Elleon says as he rips some fabric off his cape to bandage his leg with, sitting down on the floor to do so. “I’ve had the chance to overhear a great many things while hiding out in the tunnels.”

“Did you find out who it is, then?” Yeriss asks.

“Unfortunately, no. I have my own guess as to who it could be, but without evidence it’s impossible to be sure.” Elleon exhales irritatedly in a way that suggests there wasn’t a shortage of searching for search evidence on his part.

Yeriss frowns and casts a glance over at the core of the tree, which despite the recent demonic interference now seems as serene as nature can be. “Well that sucks.”

She meant to approach the plinth in the front of the room to hope some answer would magically pop out of the tree itself, but as she stands her world suddenly careens and shifts dizzily.

“Woah.” She says, stumbling backward into the root behind her.

“Yerenica!” Elleon looks at her in concern, already half standing to come to her aid. “Have you been injured badly?”

Yeriss hastily waves him off. “Nah, I’m fine. Just stood too fast.” The majority of her wounds are bruises, but now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, the pieces of glass in her back are starting to sting.

“I see. Hmm.”

“What?” She asks defensively. It’s true, it’s really not that bad. His leg wound is without a doubt worse than any of hers, and she didn’t even get to see the extent of it.

“Though the source of the corruption is gone, there will still be hydraths between us and the tower base camp. We’ll need to move quickly.” Elleon suddenly rises and begins weaving between the bodies, searching them for something.

“What are you-”

“I personally saw to it that their supply of mana potions was destroyed. But I’m willing to bet we can find someone with a health potion. No reason not to give ourselves the best chance at being present for our own victory speech, eh?”

That has her imagining the look of begrudging respect even prideful Winra and stuffy Sein will have on their faces when she comes back with the news that she not only found the source of the corruption, but destroyed it, along with the rest of the cultists that had been living right under the Federation’s nose. And found the missing Elleon, to put the cherry on top of the sugar cake. Suddenly she can’t wait to be out of here and back at camp. The smile that parts her lips is wide, and she pushes off the root to join her friend in his search.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll search this half.”

For the next few minutes they crouch by the bodies of the fallen cultists, checking pockets and satchels.

Plenty of keys, coins, and other personal effects later, Yeriss has yet to find a health potion. From Elleon’s silence, he hasn’t either. Unclipping another satchel from a cultist’s belt loop, she flips up the leather flap. But when she reaches in, instead of glass, she feels paper.

Curiously, she takes it out and unfolds it. It’s probably just trash.

At the top of the paper, something is written in what looks like castanic, but not quite. Must be deva. The two languages are really similar, so she can read almost all of it, and the rest she can easily guess. It says:

My loyal friend, and fellow devotee to our Lord, your complaints have not fallen on deaf ears. Your goals and my goals are the same. The reason I have failed to return some of your number in haste as you requested was not due to my own wishes, but rather those of our benefactor. I know you grow weary of my own words, so have a look for yourself. -Kugai

Below it is a letter, written in neat, bold human.

Lord Kugai,

I heard of the complications your group are experiencing with the task I asked of you. I fully understand the importance of your efforts regarding the tree. Surely your sorcerers are not so incompetent that you cannot spare even half a dozen to hunt him down and finish him. How hard is it to kill a single, lone man in your own territory? I’ve received your request for more supplies. A supply ship is making its way to the Island and should arrive within a few days. The potions will be within the crate that I’ve had marked with the usual symbol. I hope my faith in our alliance is still warranted. I expect to receive the good news that you finally put the Federation’s dog down for good. Don’t expect any additional supplies until you do.

-B

No way. “Um, Elleon?” She calls, not looking up from the paper.

“Hm? What is it? Have you found something?”

“I think… the evidence you’ve been looking for.” Yeriss says slowly. It was one thing to come to know of the traitor in general. But to see that it was the truth, solidly presented in ink and parchment was another thing entirely. The Valkyon Federation was huge, and had amassed great power from the alliance of several of the most advanced societies in Arborea. A traitor, especially one high enough up in the ranks to know of the Island of Dawn and the specific people and supplies present on the expeditions, was a devastating thought.

Elleon is by her side in moments. “Let me see.”

Yeriss readily hands him the paper.

“Ah. Devan.” He remarks. “Can you read it?”

“Yeah, of course. It says...” After explaining the contents of the cultist’s addition to the letter, Yeriss steps back as Elleon reads the rest. His gray lips press together the more he reads, but when he’s finished they quirk up into a smirk.

“Excellent work.” He says, sounding pleased. “This confirms many things. I’m sure Dougal will agree.”

“Consul Dougal knows about the traitor?”

“Indeed. He was the first to have suspicions, actually, and shared them with me.” Elleon stoops down and plucks something up off the ground by the cultist’s other hip. “Aha. You missed something, my reckless friend.”

A vermillion health potion sloshes in the small glass vial between his gloved fingers.

“Hey! I would have found it. Right away, if I hadn’t been busy finding your much-needed evidence. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Elleon laughs at her affronted tone. “I’m teasing you, Yerenica.”

“Oh. ...” The way his gold eyes sparkle with mischief in the dim light makes her feel strange. Breaking eye contact, she instead impatiently gestures at the vial. “Hurry up and drink some already and let’s head back.”

“Ladies first.” Elleon says, holding it out to her. Yeriss raises her eyebrows at him and doesn’t budge.

“People with serious leg injuries first.”

He takes it back without protest and uncorks the vial, taking a couple mouthfuls. He hands it back to her, halfway full, and watches her quietly as she presses the glass to her lips and finishes the rest. The cloying taste of crimson essence is unpleasant as ever, but the relief she feels as the rapidly healing wounds in her back push out the glass shards that land with little clink-clink s on the floor is palpable. She’d need more to heal her bruises, but there are priests back at camp that can help her with that. For now, she’s all set to make a victory dash back to base.

The cover of night makes the run back through hydrath territory a breeze compared to her earlier foray with company. Elleon is quick - extremely quick, in fact. So much so that she loses sight of him in the brush, following the path Davina cut through it earlier back down. He’s waiting for her by the bridge by the time she arrives.

Kaia’s flaming sword, the barrier! She completely forgot about it. But before she can even open her mouth to ask what they should do, Elleon leans back and launches his sword through the air. With knife sharp precision, it wedges itself between the source stone and it’s bed, lifting it up just high enough to deactivate the shield. Genius, again. She hadn’t even thought to use the way it only barricaded living things, not material, to get by.

They make haste across the bridge, and Elleon removes his sword from beneath the stone in a fluid motion as he passes by, not even having to stop to do so. It’s not long before they encounter some of the Federation’s guards patrolling the area, and with a surprised shout as they are recognized, one of them breaks off the group and accompanies them back to camp.

~~~

A kind pair of priests -an older human woman and a gentle demeanored baraka- tend to Yeriss and Elleon’s wounds as they sit around the quietly crackling fire in Dougal’s personal tent. As smoke spirals out of the opening in the canvas roof up to the stars, Dougal himself leans forward in his chair with concern as they begin to report.

“As much as you know I appreciate your speed, you two, I wouldn’t have minded if you had taken some time to recover first.” Dougal gives the plate full of tiny red-tinted glass fragments the priest had extricated from Yeriss’s back a glance. “In fact, I really would’ve preferred it.”

“You know I don’t like to waste time.” Elleon says with a shrug, but gives the man an appreciative look for his consideration. One of his silver boots lays on its side by his chair, but despite being bare from his toes to his knee one on leg, he still manages to have distinct poise.

Yeriss nods in agreement with Elleon’s sentiment.

Dougal raises an eyebrow, but shakes his head and rests his hands on his knees. “Alright, since you insist. Let’s start off with you, Yerenica. I heard from Jorhon that you stayed behind to finish the mission while they went to help Davina.”

Yeriss stiffens. Uh oh. Dougal had put it quite nicely just then, but she had her doubts that he was using the same words Jorhon had. Not when she had disagreed so blatantly with the rest of the group. “Ah, yes sir. Um, were they able to reach and help Davina?”

“Yes. Actually, she had already managed to take down the Hydrath pursuing her by the time they caught up to her.” Dougal makes a fond expression. “I have to say I wasn’t at all surprised to hear that. She’s very much like her sister in that aspect.”

Elleon makes a very quiet sound. Or coughs, she can’t quite tell.

“Oh, I see.” Yeriss is confused. Where’s the lecture she was anticipating?

“Unfortunately, they had to compromise their cover to chase after her, so at that point they were being pursued by quite a few of the hydraths. They had no choice but to retreat back to the base. Being so close on the other side of the barrier meant I couldn’t send any reinforcements in after you, I’m sorry.” Dougal looks sincerely contrite about this, and Yeriss is shocked. She was expecting to get chewed out, not apologized to.

“It’s- okay.” She says quickly, a bit uncomfortable. “I’m just glad she was alright after all... Anyways, I managed to get inside the cave undetected. It wasn’t long before I came upon a large group of people hiding out in them. Devas from the cult of Lok. So then I-”

Yeriss relays the events of the past few hours, and Elleon fills in the blanks of her account with his own side of things on occasion. By the time they are done, Dougal looks both shocked, impressed, and pleased at the same time.

“The cult of Lok… to think, this whole time they were on the Island with us and we had no clue.” Dougal muses as he thumbs the token with Lok’s symbol Yeriss had taken from Kugai. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he hands it back to her. “Well, more than job well done you two. Now that the source of the corruption is gone, I can assemble a decisive force and get rid of all the remaining monsters on the Island push by push. I’ll have a group go investigate the caves and make sure they’re clear. For now, you’ve earned some rest. I can’t imagine taking on a demon that powerful was easy.”

“Actually, Dougal… there’s something else.” Elleon says, catching his eye, and then looking pointedly at the priests.

“Ah.” Dougal turns to address the healers. “It seems these two are in much better shape, thank you for your efforts. If there’s nothing else, you can go.” He says in a kind, but clear dismissal.

They both nod and take their leave. Once they are gone, Dougal temples his fingers and raises his eyebrows at the man across him. “What is it?”

“We found some correspondence between their leader and someone inside the Federation that confirms someone was working with them behind our lines. I have no doubt it’s the same person responsible for the other suspicious events we discussed.” Elleon hands him the paper they found.

Before reading it, Dougal exchanges a look with him, glancing almost imperceptibly in her direction. If she didn’t just witness his methods in silent communication, she would’ve completely missed the discreet question he just asked Elleon without even saying a word.

“Yerenica already knows about the situation.” Elleon says quickly. “I told her about our additional suspicions. At a certain point down there I likely would’ve been quite dead if not for her. You can trust her.”

Dougal nods, readily accepting this. “Sorry Yerenica, just had to be sure. This is a uh, delicate situation, as you might imagine. We’re trying to keep as tight a lid on it as possible. Alright, let’s have a look at this.”

Dougal unfolds the paper and holds it out in front of him as he reads.

To her surprise, Dougal doesn’t ask about the devan. It’s not uncommon for a man of his position to be able to read the languages of multiple races, but he doesn’t give off the impression of the scholarly type.

“Someone who knew the personnel of the expeditions as well as interfere with the expedition supplies at some point, at least once, to apply the identifying mark, and to move them from the camp on the Island to a place the cultists could retrieve without being detected.” Dougal says to himself, thinking it through. “Huh… could be… someone high up certainly, but there’s only a handful of us with this level of clearance. But no, couldn’t be. More likely it’s someone who could access one of our confidential reports perhaps. An assistant?”

“Once received, you burn those. How could that be possible?” Elleon doesn’t seem to agree with him.

“None of us are infallible. Someone could’ve forgotten to do it, or been called away to discuss an emergency. I can think of plenty of situations.” At Elleon’s silence, Dougal frowns. “The only ones who could access this information are myself, Seir, Gislan, Samael, Fraya, Eyhian, Loana, Kanmur, or Ukenul. I highly doubt any of them could manage such an alliance without our notice.”

Elleon nods hesitantly.

“I hate to say it, but we need more evidence.” Dougal states reluctantly. “This is a great start though, when previously all we had were suspicions. Once we get more information we can figure out who this “B” is.”

“I think we should be cautious not to rule anyone out too early, lest our own bias cause us to miss something right under our-”

The opening to the tent flaps out harshly and Elleon’s mouth snaps shut as they all turn in their seat to face the doorway. Standing there, hands crossed tightly across his mostly bare chest, is none other than Leander himself. Looking none too pleased.

Dougal coughs awkwardly. “Leander. Uh, come in, make yourself at home.”

Leander takes a few steps forward and then resumes his previous posture. “All that time and effort searching for you like a needle in a haystack, and somehow I’m not the first to know when you’re found, brother.”

Elleon doesn’t react negatively at all to his brother’s irate tone. In fact, his eyes light up as he takes in the form of the blond man. “Is that my missing blade I see on your back Leander? Did you know that you’re my favorite brother?”

“I’m your only brother.” Leander says, rolling his eyes. But his expression softens as he catches sight of the bloody scrap of black cape-turned bandage laying loosely around Elleon’s ankle. “You’ll be pleased to know it contains none of the corrupted mana I found it inundated with. Are you alright?”

“Fine. My wounds have been healed, just haven’t had a chance yet to wash the blood off.”

“I see. Well. I don’t suppose you have some time for us to speak in private.” Leander asks, dropping his gaze.

“Of course.” Elleon quickly re-dons his boot. “Dougal?”

“We can speak more on the issue later. Go ahead.”

With a parting nod to Dougal, then Yeriss, Elleon stands and follows Leander out.

“Now that we’re alone,” Dougal begins. “I have an offer for you, Yeriss.”

At the sound of her real name, Yeriss freezes up. But before her blood has even started going cold in her veins, Dougal is patting placatively at the air.

“Relax, relax, you’re not in trouble.”

Yeriss stops holding her breath, but gives him a wary glance. “...I’m not?”

“No, I promise.”

“You knew this whole time?”

“Yeah. The day after we arrived some of Mahera’s crew asked me what to do with some crates full of badges and papers. I realized we forgot to unload them while we were at the docks in Velika. Knowing every soldier under my command is impossible, but I always make an effort to remember those that have given up their lives, to make sure their personal effects get returned to their families.” Dougal explains. “I have them written down in a log. So when there was one missing, it wasn’t hard to figure out who. Afterward I asked Mahera about it, and she explained what happened to me.”

Traitor! All that money and treasure wasn’t enough to prevent her from ratting her out?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Dougal shakes his head. “Hey, don’t feel bad. She was actually quite tight-lipped at first, and didn’t end up answering me until I pressured her. Amani are quite big on honor, you know.”

Yeriss stops planning a future confrontational rant in her head.

“After that I had a friend in the Swords verify your identity, and kept an eye on you in case you were dangerous. All I saw was you managing to kill more monsters single-handedly in a week and a half than most of the people that arrived on the second expedition have in the whole time they’ve been here. If that wasn’t enough, you also just solved all my problems in one go, including finding Elleon. I’d be a fool to punish you for being the best thing that’s happened on this island since I got here.”

She has no idea what to say. “I was just trying to help.”

“Exactly. As I was saying, I have an offer for you.”

“Huh?”

“You are now one of the very few people who know about the traitor in the Federation. Reading that letter today made me realize that this could be bigger than I previously imagined. I need someone capable to help me investigate, discreetly. Now that I know Elleon has a target on his head, the help he can provide is limited.” Dougal sighs. “So here’s my offer: you become one of my operatives, but we make it look like you’re a regular new recruit so that whoever’s behind this letter doesn’t realize we knew each other prior and get suspicious. Half the work is already done for us, considering you went by a different name during your time here. I’ll send you wherever I find a lead, and you’ll investigate under the guise of acting as a regular soldier at your post. It’ll be dangerous, but with your abilities I’m sure you can handle it.”

Yeriss brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, flattered that someone so high up as the Consul thinks highly of her. But this offer is far from tempting. ‘New recruit’? ‘Regular soldier ’?

“...”

“So, what do you think?”

“I want to help you, Dougal. I’m just not the right person for this kind of job. Isn’t there some other way I can help?” She’s definitely not trying to get landed with some snooze post fighting small fry with the rest of the keeners, sneaking around. “When you find out who it is, you’ll have my sword at your side, I swear.”

“I know I’m asking a lot. Anyone who did what you just did would want accolades - and deserve them. Asking you to keep quiet about it is unfair, I admit that. Tell you what, if you help me find the traitor like this, afterward I’ll make sure everyone in Velika knows of all your valiant service.” Dougal pauses, as if considering something, and then gives her a conspiratorial wink. “You know, I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for me to name the person who ended the corruption on the Island of Dawn and rooted out a traitor in our midst an official Valkyon Federation hero.”

“A-” Yeriss’s eyes widen. “A hero? Really! - No wait. You’re just… yanking Saleron’s chains, right?”

Dougal shakes his head with a smile.

Images of crowds of people calling her name with adoration on their lips, praise echoing through the city of wheels, and holos of her above Defiance Street in Castanica flood her mind. No stranger would ever look at her red skin and horns and disparage her again.

Pleasant shivers go up her spine.

“If you do decide to accept my offer, I have something else for you.” Dougal gets up out of his seat by the fire and reaches under a table for something.

Yeriss watches him curiously.

“You won’t be able to fulfill your full potential with that standard issue greatsword,” He starts, and when he stands back up she sees what’s in his hands. “Someone gave this to me a while ago, but I don’t use these. I think you could make much better use of it.”

It’s a greatsword. The maroon hemeleather handle is immaculately wrapped, and beautiful metalwork patterns start from the straight bronze cross-guard and flow down the middle of the fuller. The linmetal of the blade starts from a deep brown and transitions to silver in a slow gradient. From the craftsmanship alone she can tell this isn’t a twenty gold weapon.

“...Please don’t send me anywhere too boring. And I really can’t stand guard duty.” As she says it, she holds out her hand for the weapon.

Dougal throws his head back and laughs, a deep rich sound. Readily, he hands her the greatsword. Still chuckling.

“I’m also not really suited for deception, as you might have noticed.” Yeriss adds on, trying not to get annoyed at being laughed at. Not everyone can afford fancy swords.

Forcing himself to stop laughing with a little cough into his fist, Dougal clears his throat. “You won’t have to worry about that. I have someone who can help you.”

[theeasternempress]

Baby’s First Stuffed Animal

Chapter One of “All in One Day”

There are going to be four total “Baby’s First”s in this part, which is different from what I’ve done before. 

Summary - A stop at a local market gives Din and his son something that money can’t buy. 

AO3 

Just like every morning since they left Nevarro after their final fight, Din woke up calmly without jolting awake like he used to. The time Din was spending with his son had left him the happiest and most relaxed he had been in decades. The baby was still sleeping in Din’s lap, snoring softly. Looking out the windows of the cockpit, Din saw that the snowstorm from yesterday had ended and a blanket of snow had fallen across the ground. It was only a few inches, so it wouldn’t cause any problems for their trek to the market. The early morning sun reflected against the ground, highlighting certain spots to make them appear as if they were glowing.

Din preferred going to markets early in the morning because there would be less people and he would draw less eyes. The child was still asleep, so Din tucked him into his bassinet and began the walk to the market with the bassinet floating at his side. The child would wake soon and would cry if he saw that his father was not near. Din also wanted to buy the child some new toys and clothes and wanted the child’s approval before he bought them.  

The snow crunching under Din’s boots was the only sound of the early morning in the market town. The few people awake at this hour were either merchants or other people who wanted to shop without the presence of large crowds. Din wanted to stock up on supplies for at least another month, but he also wanted to buy some street food for the child and himself as a special treat. The child loved any kind of meat that Din provided for him, so he was sure that he would find something from a street vendor that the child would gobble up. 

The first stall that Din came across sold portions of veg-meat and polystarch bread, of which Din bought many. They also sold dried fruit, which contained many of the same nutrients as regular fruit but didn’t go bad as fast, so Din traded credits for those as well. 

Moving on, Din heard soft babbles from the bassinet on his right and looked over to see that the child was awake and staring at him. Din reached out to affectionately stroke one of his son’s ears and the child sighed sweetly in response. 

The next few stalls had nothing that Din was interested in, but he could see that the child was absorbing everything he saw with curious eyes. Din eventually found a stall that sold clothes and found a set of pants and shirt that would fit the child. As Din reached into his pocket to pay, the vendor, who had just finished with another customer, asked, “Is that your child?” as she pointed to the bassinet at Din’s side. The child was peeking his head out and staring at the clothes in front of him with wide eyes. 

Din responded with a quick, “Yes,” before dropping a few credits into the vendor’s open palm.

“If you are looking for supplies for a child, there’s an old woman named Eila a few stalls over that sell things for children.” The vendor said, pointing Din in the direction of said stall. Din nodded and began his way over to said stall. Even from a distance, the stand stood out to him because of the colorful toys on display. The child must have noticed as well because he began to coo excitedly. 

A woman with grey hair, whom Din presumed to be Eila, noticed him making his way to her stall and smiled at him with a, “Welcome, Mandalorian. What can I help you with?”

Din nodded at her and said, “I’m looking for some toys for my son.” As Din finished his sentence, the child reached out of his bassinet and grabbed the table, using it as leverage to pull himself out. Din instantly reached out to grab him and pull him to his chest, but Eila only laughed.

“It seems he is excited for some new toys,” she said with amusement in her voice. The child was reaching above his head with grabby hands, clearly seeing something he wanted. Din looked to see what it was and saw that it was a stuffed animal in the shape of a mythosaur. Its face looked almost identical to the pendant that the child refused to part from, which was probably why he was drawn to it. There was only one problem; the stuffed mythosaur was at least three times the size of the baby. If he kept it in his bassinet, which he was bound to do, it would easily engulf him with its size. 

Eila laughed again and said, “He likes the mythosaur. I admit that I’ve been trying to sell that for a while, and no better client than a Mandalorian’s child. Would you like to have it?”

“Yes, please. How much do I owe you?” Din asked, putting the baby back in his bassinet. 

Eila shook her head as she pulled the mythosaur down and placed it in Din’s hands, “You can have it free of charge. I haven’t seen a child this cute be this excited over a toy in a long time.”

Surprised by her kindness, Din only managed to say, “Thank you.”  

Seeing the toy he so desperately wanted in his father’s hands, the child reached out of his bassinet and grabbed at the toy while whimpering. Quick to stop any possible crying, Din placed the mythosaur into the child’s outstretched arms. He quickly disappeared behind the huge toy, but Din saw him wrap his arms around it and snuggle into it. 

“May I ask you a question?” the vendor whispered, pulling Din from the moment he was having with his son. He nodded, knowing she was probably going to ask him a question about his culture.

“Do you remove your armor to hold him?” she asked unexpectedly. Din had never thought to do so as the child seemed perfectly content whenever Din held him. 

“No, I do not,” Din replied. 

Eila nodded and expressed, “Babies form better bonds when they can feel the warmth of their parent’s skin. I understand that you are a Mandalorian, but surely you are able to take a private moment to remove your armor to hold the little one. Skin-to-skin contact is necessary for proper development in children and while I know nothing of his species, I’m sure it would only help him.”

Din wasn’t sure what to say back. He wanted to be the best possible father to his son, so would that mean removing the armor that was meant to protect himself and his son? It would not be against the Creed to remove his armor to hold his son, so why did the idea of doing so scare Din so much?

“I’ll think about it,” was Din’s response. For most, such a phrase has a “no” hidden behind it, but Din is someone who chooses his words carefully to ensure the meaning behind them. The woman smiled and replied, “I understand. May I recommend some other things for you to take home with you for your little one?”

In the end, Din walked away with several illustrated children’s books, a music box, some art supplies and paper, and two more sets of clothes for the child. Din also purchased two meat kebabs from a vendor as breakfast for himself and the child. Happy with his purchases for the day, Din began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. The child was still happily snuggled into the belly of his new toy, grasping it tightly as if he never wanted to let go. 

Once back on the Razor Crest, Din began to put his purchases away while the child ran around the ship, dragging the mythosaur behind him by its tail and giggling loudly. Din couldn’t help but smile at the happy image of his tiny baby dragging his huge toy behind him. Din’s thoughts brought him back to the words of Eila and he sighed deeply. As he watched his son run in a circle with the mythosaur at his heels, he was reminded of the fact that he would sacrifice everything for this child. He had already risked his career and life for his son, now he would sacrifice his armor.

Din began the process of removing his chest and shoulder plates while continuing to watch his child playing. After running in a circle for so long, the child became dizzy and tired, plopping onto the ground and breathing heavily. Din reached down to pick up his son, who was more than happy to be held. Pressing him to his chest, Din heard the child sigh at being able to feel the warmth of Din’s chest. He brought his little hands up to grasp at his shirt and rested another hand over Din’s heart. 

The affection and love of the moment brought a flow of unstoppable words from Din’s mouth, “Listen, little one, I’ve never really had another person to spend my time with so I’m not really good with my words or actions. I … I want to be a good dad to you, but I’m not sure how to do that. No matter what, I promise you that I’m always going to take care of you, protect you, and keep you happy. You make me very happy and if you’re even half as happy in my company as I am in yours, then I think I’ve succeeded.”

As Din continued to feel his son against his chest for the first time, the words just continued to spill from his mouth. He told his son of his own parents and how they sacrificed themselves for him and that Din was prepared to do the same for his child. He told him how the foundlings were highly valued among Mandalorians and that family was extremely important to them. How to be a Mandalorian was to be prepared to lay your life down for your family at any time. 

“You are my ad, my son, and I am your buir, your father. I will protect you always and I will love you always,” Din finished, leaning down to press his forehead to the top of his child’s head. The baby cooed and Din leaned back up to look at his son. The baby grabbed the fabric near his shoulders to pull himself up in order to wrap his arms around Din’s neck in a hug. Din sighed and embraced his son, grateful to the wise old woman who had helped him bond with his baby.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Wicked Game {Part 2}

~Professor Hiddleston AU~

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Part: 2/30

Words: 4k

Warnings: Professor x student (college AU), little language

Summary: After transferring to a new university for the last year of your master's, you meet Professor Hiddleston and soon find yourself unable to stay away from him.

A.N.: I really suck at summaries, I'm so sorry 😅 this is a slow burn romance with lots of pining 💗 this chapter is sweet but a little painful, sorry not sorry 😁 but you're gonna love the next chapter so stay tuned!!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

______________________________

Your alarm blared loudly, making you groan and hit the snooze button. It was too early and too cold outside of your bed, especially after the long night you'd had… So you just lay under the warm covers and thought about the day ahead. Today, you'd see Hiddleston again and you were determined to not be caught off guard by him once more. After all, you didn't even know if he was worth swooning over and all you could tell was that he looked like a god and was nicer than an angel. Wow, that thought didn't help at all.

After another fifteen minutes filled with scrolling through various apps, you finally felt ready to tackle the day and got out of bed with a long sigh. You were in dire need of coffee and made a mental note to stop by the small coffee shop you had noticed yesterday on your way to class. For now, your first problem was that you didn't really know what to wear to class today. Usually questions like that didn't bother you much and you just wore whatever was decent enough, but today you felt like making an effort. You were trying to convince yourself that it wasn't because of Hiddleston, though.

After you had finally settled for black skinny jeans, a dark green wool pullover and boots with semi-high block heels, you added some dainty golden jewelry and already felt like you looked a lot nicer than ninety percent of the rest of the year.

As you went to pack your bag, you realized that you still hadn't found your keys. Sighing you put on some music and dug through your whole room, without any results. The damn keychain was gone and you sat down on your squeaking bed in despair. You'd had such high hopes for your last year and for the new college… but at the moment, everything was going pear shaped. It was getting quite late and you still wanted to get some coffee, so you packed your books and supplies into a leather backpack (mindful to not repeat yesterday's mistake of bringing a broken satchel that wouldn't close), then wrapped a big scarf around yourself and made your way to the metro.

The ride wasn't too long, just enough time for you to get out your headphones and listen to a few songs. In no time you reached your station and made your way towards the coffee shop you'd seen yesterday. It was on a quiet corner a little off campus and to your surprise not all that many students were inside. Must be because of the Starbucks that was right on campus… You didn't mind Starbucks, but preferred good coffee over status symbols.

You ordered your favorite beverage in as large as possible (yes, it was necessary) and waited patiently for your order while quietly singing along to the song you were listening to. When the customer before you received his order, the minimalist logo on the cup caught your attention. Wasn't that the same kind of cup Hiddleston had kept in his office yesterday? That's when an idea struck you, an idea both stupid and very much necessary after making such a fool of yourself. You'd bring him coffee as a thank you for being so nice.

"Excuse me…" You turned to the girl behind the counter. "Uhm… is there any chance you'd remember the tall man with the incredible blue eyes who was here yesterday morning?"

"Kinda curly hair, glasses, handsome as fuck?" She chuckled.

"That's him." You smiled back. "Do you still remember what he ordered?"

"Uhm, yeah, I think so." She thought for a moment. "Must've been a large filter coffee with a tiny dash of milk, no sweetener but a teaspoon of cocoa. He was very precise about that."

"Then please add that to my order." You said and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It was set, you'd bring the man in question coffee. Maybe that was inappropriate, but if you could build a good (and professional) relationship with him, maybe he would be willing to supervise your thesis at the end of the year. You'd worked so long for those degrees and he seemed like a good fit since he was an expert in both fields of your study. For now, that was a good enough justification for your behavior.

A moment later you picked up your order and slowly made your way to class. This time around you knew how to read the weird room number on your schedule: first the tower, then the floor, then the corridor and finally the actual room number. That truly was one disadvantage of a bigger university… too many rooms! Making your way towards your room, you continued to silently sing along to your music in an attempt to ignore the people around you until you reached your destination.

The room was open but yet empty, so you made your way to the second row (first would've been too… weird, after yesterday), set down the coffees and your bag and finally sat down yourself. There were still ten minutes to go until your class would start, so you closed your eyes and enjoyed the music for a while.

"You can sing really well." His voice made your eyes snap open in an instant and you had the immediate feeling of a dejavu. You hadn't even realized that you had been singing along loudly, but obviously you had, and just embarrassed yourself in front of your professor once again.

"Mr. Hiddleston!" You shrieked, stopping the music and putting away your phone and headphones. "I didn't notice you coming… Sorry."

"It's alright." He smiled as he set his bag down at the front. "Have you considered joining the university's choir? I mean it's none of my business, but I'm sure they would welcome a great voice such as yours."

You blushed furiously, and he also seemed to be taken aback a little by his words. For a moment, the whole room was silent.

"Uhm…" You remembered the coffee and rose to your feet, taking the cup and slowly walking towards the front. "I… I brought you coffee. As a thank you for yesterday. You really saved my ass with those room numbers…"

His eyes widened slightly as he slowly reached out to take the cup from you. Then, for a short moment, he just stared at you in disbelief and you felt your heart sink to the floor and even lower. It had been a bad idea after all, stupid even, how could you have thought…

"That's very thoughtful of you, but not at all necessary." He finally said in a kind voice, breaking your downward spiral of thoughts. "I'm just glad I could help." Then he smiled once more as if nothing had happened.

"I just thought you'd appreciate it." You smiled slightly and went to sit back down.

"I do." He muttered quietly as he took a sip, frowning once more once he tasted his signature mix. The irritation and surprise in his face made you smile a little too widely and you would've paid quite a bit to see it again.

"How…?" He laughed, pointing at the cup and then at you.

"I'm good at guessing." You shrugged and couldn't help but smirk at him. However as he rose an eyebrow at you in amusement and pushed his glasses up, you laughed out loud.

"I asked the barista in the coffee shop. I noticed how you had their cup on your desk yesterday, and that gave me the idea in the first place." You admitted, shaking your head to yourself.

"Very clever, Miss L/n…" He mused, taking another sip with an expression of pure bliss and you followed the example.

"I hope you'll say the same after class." You chuckled, getting your books out of your backpack and hoping that your heart rate would slow down soon. But his voice was like honey: once you'd enjoyed its sweet sound, you were bound to be drawn in and kept within it's comfort again and again.

Mr. Hiddleston walked back to his table at the front and also grabbed his materials from his bag, preparing for the class ahead. Meanwhile a bunch of other students filed into the room, taking their seats around you. A girl with green hair and quite a few piercings sat down next to you, throwing a judging look at you.

"I'm Sky." She said simply, waiting for a response.

"Y/n." You smiled at her without any judgement, which she obviously didn't expect.

"You… you're new here, right?" She asked, now a lot friendlier.

"Do I look that lost?" You chuckled, thankful for the distraction from staring at Hiddleston.

"No, but I've never seen you around. What's your major?"

"I'm doing a double degree in cultural studies and literature." You sighed. "It's my last year."

"Wow…" Sky said, clicking her pen a few times. "Because of him?" She pointed to the front where Mr. Hiddleston stood, flipping through a fancy green journal that instantly caught your interest. However you remembered the conversation you were having and shook your head a little too eagerly.

"No!" Your voice sounded an octave too high. "I… I don't even know him. I…. I've been in this degree for two years already, and this is only my second day at this school and…"

"Woah, calm down!" Sky laughed. "I was just kidding!"

You let out a shaky breath and tried to smile. "Not funny…"

"Well, but funny is that everyone is crushing on him." She mentioned around the room. "That's why his classes are always completely crowded. He's a darn good teacher, but pretty demanding."

"Good to know." You sighed. "What's your degree?"

"Literature." She shrugged. "Only one degree, two more years to go. I'm not that much of an overachiever."

You snorted, shaking your head at her comment. "I'm aiming for a career in academics. One gotta stand out to get there, you know…"

"Oh geez, Hiddleston will love you then…" She chuckled.

"So, you've taken his classes before?" You assumed, looking at your new acquaintance with sincere interest.

Sky opened her mouth to answer, but Mr. Hiddleston interrupted your conversation to start the class.

"Hello everyone. I'm Professor Thomas Hiddleston and this is my lecture about advanced literature analysis in context of hermeneutic theory. Today, we're going to handle things a bit differently than you'd expect. We start straight with the first topic, formalities will be covered at the end of class." He announced, glancing at you for just a short moment. You looked down at your notebook with a small smile, happy at the prospect of actually learning something. Sky on the other hand looked at Mr. Hiddleston, then at you with an amused smirk, before focusing on her own notes.

The rest of the lecture went by without any further interruptions and you focused solemnly on your studies. Most of the things that were covered today you had already read the night before and thus you could focus on learning the small details he was giving. When the lecture was over and everyone had asked their questions and collected their syllabi, you tried to resist the temptation of staying behind to talk to your professor. You wanted to tell him how much you enjoyed the class and how interesting the topic had been, but you also knew that it would leave the wrong impression. The last thing you wanted was to annoy him and he probably didn't want to talk to you anyway. You'd already had your daily dose of awkwardness when you had bought him coffee.

So you quickly packed up and walked towards the door where Sky was waiting to grab lunch with you.

"Miss L/n!" Mr. Hiddleston called after you, pushing his way through a crowd of female student who wanted to talk to him very desperately.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, pulling yourself together to not become a blushing mess once again.

"Miss L/n…" He said as he stepped closer to you, so close in fact that you could faintly smell his cologne. "I found your keys. In, uhm… in my office… last night." He fished them out of his pocket as unsuspiciously as possible and placed them in your hand. When his fingers brushed against yours, as lightly as a feather, you could practically see him jump and shudder, but he quickly regained his composure and put on a fake smile. The small action made your heart drop a little, but you chose to ignore it. If he was so uncomfortable with you, even at this minimal and accidental touch, you would do him the favor and stay away from him outside of class.

"Wow, thank you! I was so worried I'd lost them." You said and then smiled at him encouragingly. "This class was amazing. Thank you, professor." With a small nod you closed your hand around your keys and took a few steps backwards, before turning around and heading for the door.

"What was THAT about?" Sky smirked as you walked down the hallway together.

"He just gave me my keys back." You rolled your eyes. "I forgot them at his office yesterday."

Now Sky straight-out stared at you with utter amusement until you realized how what you had just said must sound.

"Gosh, that came out so wrong." You sighed and hid your face in your hands. Sky laughed and led you to the cafeteria for lunch, while you told her about your encounter with Hiddleston from the previous day.

"He really brought you all the way to your room? In the E tower?" She asked while chewing on a bunch of fries. "That's kinda cute."

"It's not!" You complained, stealing one of her fries. "He had to teach a class in the same tower anyway."

Sky laughed, shaking her head. "Did he tell you that?"

"Yeah, I told him he didn't have to and he said it's fine, he'd have to go there anyway." You shrugged, sipping on your water.

"Such a liar!" She grinned. "The E tower is for foreign languages, he's got nothing to do there."

You felt your skin heat up for a short moment, but even when it faded, the tingles remained. "Well, maybe he was just trying to be friendly. Or his class was moved to a different room. Who knows. Isn't he always nice to his students?"

Sky shrugged. "He's one of the nicest people on campus, that's true. Except for… well, that won't happen to you anyway."

"Tell me!" You inquired. "Except for what?"

"Well, he gets really into his studies and the topics and stuff… and when students disrespect him or act like asses he can lash out pretty badly."

"And… does that happen often?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. It usually only hits people who really deserve it." She waved it off and you nodded.

"So… you're not crushing on him then?" You asked after a few minutes.

"Hell no!" She laughed out loud. "I'm not into… well, anything actually. I'm very happy on my own. Are you? Crushing on him, I mean?"

You breathed deeply and frowned. "I don't think so… I mean he's nice and stuff, but he's being nice to everyone and it didn't mean anything that he showed me to my room. And most importantly: I don't even know him really!"

"Very true…" She nodded. "And he's a professor after all… if he's interested in anyone, it'll probably be someone who's on the same level as him, like, cognitively and academically and stuff…"

You nodded and finished your sandwich, not even hungry anymore. The feeling of being absolutely ridiculous had taken over your body and you were in desperate need for some alone time to get your messed up emotions sorted out. And you were granted just that, as Sky excused herself for she had a class in five minutes. With a tired sigh you took another look at your schedule and then headed to the library to do some more reading on today's topics.

The rest of the day you spent studying, passing time up to your evening class. For some reason it was way more difficult to focus in this class, let alone to enjoy the topic, as you had already taken pretty much the same class at your old college. But the class was a requirement here and you were determined to do well in it despite the inevitable boredom. So when you got some homework at the end, you headed straight back to the library. It was already eight in the evening and campus was pretty deserted, except for the poor souls such as yourself who happened to have night classes. The assignment was easy, horribly easy even, and you had double- and triple-checked your work by nine thirty and handed it in per email at shortly before ten. Finally done for the day, you raced to the metro to head home (the last train left shortly after ten and you weren't going to walk that damn long way home at night), where the inevitable noises of your roommate's friends made you want to cry. Oh, how desperately you wanted to move out… but yet, you hadn't found a better place to live and honestly, you couldn't really afford any of the fancy apartments around.

When you were in the safety of your room, the day finally caught up with you and you felt dead tired, ready to sleep for a very long time.

Three weeks went by like this: you worked your ass off, every day and every night, in an attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts about your professor. In class, you had gotten so far ahead that you could answer every single one of his questions, sometimes before he even asked them. Sky remained your only friend at uni, but she knew better than to try talking to you about Mr. Hiddleston. She noticed however that after the day he had given you your keys back, he avoided talking to you, or even looking at you if it wasn't for the sole purpose of having his questions answered in class. And you had to admit, it broke you. The more you tried to be good enough, to prove your worth in class, the more he pulled back. It wasn't like he was straight out ignoring you, but after the day you had brought him coffee (which, in your eyes, had gone really well and he had seemed genuinely happy) he had still been very friendly to you, but in a forced, fake way and he was distant if possible. In one of the rare moments when you had caught him off guard in the hallway, his eyes had been a blazing storm, deeply torn and full of questions. When he had looked away, you'd known that whatever you had done wrong, it wasn't easy to be made up, if it was to be made up at all. At least he was still giving you (well deserved) top grades in all your assignments, and as long as that stayed this way you would stay away from him and try to study as hard as possible. However at the beginning of the fourth week, when you were unable to fall asleep on Monday night, you had to admit that you had been lying to yourself. Every time you had gotten the chance, you had heavily insisted that you had absolutely no feelings for and no interest in Thomas Hiddleston. But lying was getting too difficult, it was too exhausting to pretend anymore. So on Monday night, you decided that you would be honest about it, if only to yourself: you were desperately falling for him. Of course you knew that it was wrong and stupid and utterly hopeless, but you'd let yourself dream that in some other world, he could maybe be yours.

_______________

Tom had always thought that the biggest problem in his career would be a student unhappy with their grade, or maybe one of those horrible plays the faculty made their professors do every few years.

But as it turned out, his biggest problem liked to drink coffee in class and to stay at the uni's library until closing time.

The day he had found you sitting all alone in the classroom, singing along to Zombie, he had been more than determined to treat you like everyone else. But when he had heard your lovely voice, singing a song he adored, he just couldn't help but comment on it. And that's when things had started to get really difficult for him. You had brought him coffee, his favorite kind from his favorite coffee shop… of course you didn't have any ulterior motives behind that, but he had been momentarily stunned by the kind gesture. It was really uncommon, sure, but he'd appreciated it so very much… more than he should have. For that day's lecture he had noticed how his eyes had darted back to you whenever possible, and he had felt horrible about it. If it hadn't been for your keys, he would gladly have gotten some distance between you and him. And then your hands touched… and he was gone, lost in the desire to be closer to you. You had complimented his teaching, then left quickly. Oh, he had felt so stupid after that, especially when the usual bunch of female students had tackled him and followed him all the way back to his office.

During the three next weeks he had tried once again to force you out of his brain, but you made things very difficult for him. The things you knew, your brilliant opinions and ideas… he didn't even have to ask, you could always tell what he would be saying next. And if he would've let himself, he would've spent the entirety of class only talking to you. However he feared that the two of you had slipped into rather the contrary of what he wanted so badly: you stayed away from him as much as possible if not to answer a question, hardly even looking at him. And he had known it was for the better if he stayed away from you as well. He had felt creepy and wrong for wanting to be near you, and surely it would only get him in a lot of trouble if he acted on this… whatever it was.

The worst thing was that he didn't even know anything about you and he had absolutely no reason to even feel the way he did… but that's just what it was about, he WANTED to get to know you, as more than just another student. And the fact that almost every girl was practically chasing him while you did everything to stay out of his way was probably a good thing too. He didn't know if he could deal with another direct encounter with you, outside of class… he didn't know if he could keep himself from doing something stupid. Like asking you out, to grab a coffee with him. Or to help him grade the first-year assignments. Though the first idea would be more fun.

For now, on a stormy Monday night, he sat in his apartment, drinking a double Jameson on ice and asking himself if he would lose his interest in you if only he didn't act on it. After his fourth whisky he came to the lasting conclusion that he wouldn't do either: he won't allow himself to act on it, but he would allow himself to dream.

_______________

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Everyone who's crosses out, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag! I'm very sorry about that...

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[dogfatherpads]

Love through the Seasons! (Sirius Black)

Hello again everybody! I cant explain where this idea came from. This will be a four part “series” if you want to call it that. A “chapter” for each season. Enjoy. 

for Ellie @marauderskeeper

SUMMER

It was easy to love Sirius in the Summer.

In the summer, his hair lightened from being out in the sun all day

Tinkering with the bike again because “It’s going to fly this time, I just know it.”

He hated the freckles that came with the sun and splattered across his shoulders and nose until one night when you tried to kiss every single one of them as he giggled and whined that it tickled 

You lost count after 352

Sirius wasn’t a very great cook but in the summer, he loved to make fruit tarts and delighted in hearing you scream as he turned the merengue bowl over your head

“If the peaks are stiff and I’ve done it correctly, I can put the bowl over your head and why are you hitting me it’s still in the bowl!!”

He’d take you for rides on his motorcycle to relieve the heat

the speed at which he flew down the highways was always exhilarating 

you liked to rest your head on his shoulder with your eyes closed as the wind whistled in your ear and blew the scent of his lavender shampoo across your face

“let’s floo to Italy instead,” he’d say when you suggested going out for ice cream. “I don’t like soft serve and the best gelato is served in Italy. We’re going get your shoes.”

You find him sitting in the kitchen by the window at 3 in the morning and stop yourself from speaking when you notice his eyes are closed, the breeze blowing his hair across his face and tickling his nose.

You stand frozen, almost entranced as the beads of sweat drip languidly down his chest 

“‘s not polite to stare,” he’d murmur 

“You weren’t in bed..”

“Too hot, the sheets are too warm. Im sorry I left you there alone, come and join me,” he’d hold out a hand towards you, opening a single eye when you hesitated.

“I have an idea.” 

It was only seconds before you had the mattress laying in front of the open french doors in the living room, a spell cast to keep the bugs and other intruders out

“You’re brilliant,” he’d sigh with a contented smile as the breeze fluttered in

He’d risen an eyebrow when you hesitated once again to join him, then smiled softly when you pulled your night gown over your head

you’d wake up in the morning wrapped around him, the morning breeze making you shiver 

“Cold?” he’d mumble sleepily, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm

“Only a little.”

“I’ll warm you right up,” he’d chuckle at your squeal as he rolled over and onto you.

Sirius sang in the shower

This wasn’t any thing new, but in the summer, the songs were much happier 

Here comes the Sun, I think we’re alone now, Dancing Queen, and

“Stevie Wonder?” you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

“It’s a love song,” he’d turn in your arms and smile sheepishly. “Lily was listening to him all day yesterday. Got him stuck in my head so she lent me her... radiator?”

“Radio, Sirius,” you’d giggle and he’d roll his eyes, beginning to lather soap into your hair 

“This one’s my favorite, listen.”

You’d rest your head on his chest, listening to him hum along with Stevie wonder as his fingers massaged your scalp

“You are the sunshine of my life, that’s why I’ll always stay around,” he’d sing softly, “you are the apple of my eye, forever you’ll stay in my heart.”

And then he’d giggle and you’d smack him when you’d realize he’d been lathering your hair into a mohawk the whole time

“the king of romance obviously.”

His lips would taste of Lily’s mint lemonade in the afternoon after brunch with the Potters

“I can’t believe Lily’s so big already, Harry will be here in no time,” he’d mumble against your lips, his fingers playing at the hem of your blouse. “Perhaps we should make him someone to play with.”

Many days were spent at the Potter’s and at the lake near their home

He’d teach you how to skip rocks and grin when you rolled your eyes as he moved in behind you, much closer than necessary

“Just trying to show you the proper technique and posture love!” he’d put on the most innocent expression 

He and James would argue over the rope they’d tie to swing off of and into the lake

“that’s much too high”

“Don’t be a chicken Prongs!”

“Im not a chicken Im a father!”

“He’s a chicken!” Lily would yell back causing Sirius to snort and James to clip him in the back of the head

Lily would cheer you on from the shore as you wrestled James from atop of Sirius’ shoulders

“YOU GOT THIS BABE!!!”

“How could I not win with my wife cheering me on, you should give up now!” James would shout, already wobbly on Remus’ shoulders

“I was talking about y/n. Kick his ass!!” Lily would yell

“Could you weigh any more Prongs?!”

Sirius would pout when you’d laugh at the tan lines as he removed his shorts before a shower one evening after being at the lake with the boys all day

“My ass is not pale. Stop laughing!!”

It was endearing to watch him in the kitchen with Lily

“Have you also put on a few pounds since these two started their baking phase?” you’d rest your head on James’ shoulder as you two watched them from the couch

“I knew my waist line was in trouble the second I said I do. I already put on the happy husband weight!” he’d complain

“PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER!!” he and Lily would shout as they slow danced in front of the stove 

“Your singing is as bad as your dancing,” James would laugh

“Shut up Prongs, at least I don’t step on her feet!”

“Exactly,” Lily would laugh with him as they continued around the kitchen

The nights of the full moon were always difficult

Remus always came down to the Potter’s smiling ruefully

“Prongs you don’t have to do this. You’re gonna be a dad now.”

“I can handle Moony on my own Prongs!” Sirius would chime in, smiling brightly. Always stupidly brave

you had to bite your tongue, it was dangerous when it was all four of them but Sirius alone?

You’d never resent Remus for needing the company, but it worried you to think of Sirius out there alone

“Don’t be stupid you two, I’m coming,” James would shake his head and you’d sigh selfishly in relief, “you think I’d let you have all the fun without me?”

Sirius would turn to you before leaving 

“I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I know, I just can’t help but worry..”

“Hey, I come back to you every time, don’t I?” He’d tilt your chin and give you a small smile

“Yes, Remus needs you now. So go,” you’d put on your best grin and he’d brush his fingers softly across your face

“I love you.” And then he was gone.

You and Lily spent most of those nights awake together, brewing wolfsbane for Remus as she’d read somewhere that it would make the wolf calmer

 but it was harder for her now 

she’d sleep with her head in your lap as you absentmindedly braided her hair

“You should sleep,” she’d mumble late into the night, “he’s gonna come home bruised and so is Remus. They’ll need us alert in the morning to clean them up.”

You’d doze off eventually, praying to whatever higher power existed that those boys got home safely

“babe?” your eyes would snap open, focusing on his grey ones

“Sirius!” you’d embrace him strongly, pulling back abruptly when he winced

“Im so sorry. Where is Remus, are you hurt?”

“Breathe for a minute love,” he’d chuckle, pressing his hands to your face.

“Remus is sleeping, nothing major, Lily already cleaned up his scrapes. Can you help with mine?”

It wasn’t as bad during the summer. No broken bones for Remus, only a few scrapes for the boys

perhaps it was the sunny days and laughs and carefree days that made the full moons easier during the summer

“Don’t move or it’ll hurt,” you’d kiss him softly when he winced at the wet cloth, “what happened here.”

“Rough housing,” he’d chuckle light heartedly and you’d wrap your arms around him tightly.

“Hey...” he’d rub your back softly, “I’m alright love. Honest. A split brow just makes me look cooler anyway.”

“It never gets easier,” you’d mumble into his neck.

“I know. But I’ll always come back to you. I promise.”

[motherofoliver]

Lost on You (Chapter 1)

(AO3)

Summary: After over a year on a roller coaster ride, Kaneki leaves prison and attempts to make amends for his mistakes.

Word Count: 2,118

*****

“Here are your things. You may exit through that door.” The guard slid Kaneki his things through a small opening in the glass and pointed towards the metal door leading to the outside world. He put on his jacket, bloodstains still on it.

That’s gonna be a bitch to dry clean.

After checking his wallet, Kaneki pushed the metal door open and walked outside to find a vintage red Mustang with a familiar face standing besides it.

“Where’s Touka?”

“I missed you too, buddy. Please try to contain your excitement at seeing me.” Hide chuckled as he came up closer and embraced the dark-haired man. It took a while for Kaneki to hug him back. He wasn’t sure when the last time he was held by anyone was. Definitely over a month. Maybe over three months. Not since T…

“You smell like shit.” Hide wrinkled his nose and stepped back while comically waving his hand.

“Yeah, prison can do that to you.” Kaneki made his way to the front seat of the car and leaned it back.

“Did they make you shower with expired chicken stock?” Hide got into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. Pop music blared from the radio as he reversed the car and sped onto the main street. “My place is closer than yours, we’ll stop there so you can shower and have a change of clothes.”

“Just take me home.” Kaneki sounded exhausted. He slid down his seat and placed his arm over his eyes.

“No can do. Akira wants to see you.”

Kaneki groaned. “I just got out. I can’t attend a work meeting right now.”

“Hey man, it’s the least you could do. She busted her ass to get you out.” Hide sounded playful but Kaneki knew him well enough to know there was a tinge of reproach in his voice. Akira must have pulled a lot of strings she did not want to pull. The familiar wave of guilt washed over him and his throat tightened.

“Will Touka be there?” And would she speak to me if she was?

“I don’t know, I think she’s been busy with a new client.”  Hide was tapping his fingers against the wheel with the music but Kaneki could feel his eyes glancing at him with concern. “I thought guys got buff in jail, how did you manage to get thinner?” Hide tried to cheer up the atmosphere by teasing him but his mind was already elsewhere.

“Yeah, well, prison food tastes like shit.” Kaneki replied absentmindedly. He couldn’t actually remember what prison food tasted like or if he even ate it. He couldn’t remember much of anything besides the thoughts that kept a watchful rotation in his head like a music worm you can’t hum your way out of.

“Don’t worry about that. Tonight I’ll take you out for the best meal of your life. It’ll be a mukbang of all your favorite foods. Gotta celebrate you surviving prison.”

Kaneki didn’t react. He was already humming his tune.

***

Breaking news! Our favorite hot mess, Ken Kaneki, is out of prison after only serving one month of his prison sentence! Insider sources tell us a deal was mediated with the prosecution and the actor was released on parole this morning! We contacted his agency for a statement on the release of the famous one eyed dragon but they have yet to reach out. Do you think he got off easy? Share your thoughts with us on our social media at…

Akira closed her browser tab and took a deep sigh. She could already feel a headache forming behind her eyes and she was positive it will get worse within the next few hours. She pressed her intercom button “Hairu, could you please get me some water and Paracetamol before Kaneki gets here?”

“Yes, ma’am” The reply was quick and Akira immediately heard the sound of Hairu leaving her desk to the communal office area.

How will we spin this one?

Throughout the last year, working as Kaneki’s publicist meant she has had to bend over backwards and use every trick up her sleeve to maintain a modicum of a career for him. Paying exuberant amounts of money to cover up his drug use, settlements, bribes, killing stories and videos of his repeated arrests, convincing prostitutes not to post photos of him snorting cocaine off them on their Instagram, negotiating with producers and directors to keep him on their movies even though he’s consistently 6 hours late to set and doesn’t even know his lines.

It’s just a phase; he’s going through a difficult time.

Or so she kept telling herself as he punched and kicked and snorted his way through the five stages of grief. It took less than 3 months to change his reputation from the ‘wholesome child star who made it’ into a violent drug addict who couldn’t stay sober for a five minutes morning statement of apology. His childhood portraits turned into snarky memes on social media mocking his downward spiral. Tabloids competed to come up with the most outrageous story of the day about him, and they didn’t have to work too hard to find them.

Hairu knocked at the door. Akira nodded for her to enter. She placed a sheet of pills and a water bottle on her desk then moved out. Akira interrupted her at the door “Is Touka in the office today?”

“No, ma’am. She went to Italy yesterday for the photoshoot.”

Thank God. “Thank you, Hairu.” At least that will be one less outburst to deal with today. Hairu nodded and closed the door behind her.

Kaneki would definitely make a scene if Touka was around. He has managed to botch every interaction they had ever since they broke up and Touka has been through enough last few months. There was no need to add the burden of handling Kaneki just yet.

Speak of the devil.

Akira’s phone lit up with a message from Hide: “Just dropped Kaneki off. He’s all yours.”

Akira took a deep breath and reached for the pills.

***

Kaneki felt every eye in the hall on him. He had hoped his entry would be inconspicuous but looking at his reflection in the elevator, he realized he may have overdone it a bit with the black. He looked like a modern day rendition of the grim reaper if he wanted to start a goth band. Kaneki clicked the 14th floor button, Creative Celebrity Globe.

What a dumb fucking name.

Unconsciously, Kaneki started tapping his foot. He wasn’t sure what to expect with Akira but he doubted it will be anything good. But that wasn’t the thing making him nervous.

What if Touka is in her office? I should go say hi. Right? She wouldn’t mind that. It’s only being civil.

The elevator doors opened and Kaneki instinctually went to the right, room 1407. The door was locked and the lights were out. He looked inside and Touka’s bag wasn’t on the table by the window. Music wasn’t playing on her computer. His eyes searched for the bunny calendar he got her but it wasn’t on the wall next to the desk. Kaneki felt a pit in his stomach at the thought she might have thrown it away.

“Kaneki! Glad to have you back.” Akira’s voice snapped Kaneki out of his thoughts. Akira gestured towards her office with a formal smile on her face. The dark circles around her eyes had deepened since the last time she visited him in prison. She followed him as he made his way into her office and closed the door behind them.

“I’m sure you didn’t want to come here today but we need to discuss our plan from now on.” Akira said matter-of-factly as she pulled a few folders from her drawer. “There will be a shit storm next couple of weeks so it’s best if you lay low. That means no social media, no going out, no smoking, no alcohol, no drugs, no midnight visits from attentive women, alright?”

Kaneki rolled his eyes. “Why not just tie me to a chair and be done with it?”

“Will that be necessary?” Akira’s glare was hard. Kaneki wanted to glare back but he felt too ashamed to try it.

Akira continued. “After that, I have set some volunteer activities for you to join. We’ll leak photos after you prove your presence with the other volunteers. If we feel the time is right, Hairu will start posting on your social media to begin rehabilitating your image and …”

“Isn’t it best if Touka does that?” Kaneki interrupted. “She is more familiar with my personal brand.”

Akira’s look would have been almost condescending if not for the pity. “You don’t have a personal brand left, and Touka no longer works on your team.” Akira said slowly, as if she was talking to a child. “Hairu is more than competent enough for this task.”

Kaneki’s foot started tapping aggressively but he didn’t say anything.

“If all goes right, we might be able to get you a role on a Netflix show set to start production in 6 months. I’m personal friends with the director and he would be willing to hire you as a favor for me.” Akira placed her fists beneath her chin. “That is if you get your act together.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?” Kaneki asked defiantly. He had been feeling like a puppet steered by the people around him for the last month and he wasn’t looking forward to being that puppet for the next six months.

“Don’t want what? To get your act together?” Akira’s eyebrow rose. “I’m afraid that’s implied in your parole.” She leaned back in her chair with crossed hands.

“No, I mean acting. I mean this whole life. Can’t I just retire now? I’ve done my time.” Kaneki was getting antsy in his seat. The room felt as it was getting smaller. Akira’s voice was becoming distant. His foot was basically shaking now instead of tapping. He wanted to go back to Touka’s office and look for the calendar. She wouldn’t have thrown it away.

“With whose money do you plan to do that?” Akira’s question was like a jolt of electricity.

“What do you mean whose money? Mine of course!” Kaneki’s voice rose on the last word.

“Would that be the money you spent on drugs? Or travels? Or lawyers? Or settlements?” Akira dropped one of the folders in front of him. “You still have fees and settlements worth millions to pay. You can’t afford to retire unless you’re willing to go back to jail for much longer than you were sentenced.” Akira opened the folder and pointed to a signature line. “That’s why I need you to sign here. We’re selling your apartment.”

Akira’s voice grew distant again. Kaneki’s choices for the last year fell crashing on him and his breath stopped in his chest. “I can’t do that.” He managed to croak out.

He really couldn’t. That apartment was the first thing he ever bought with his money. He bought it for himself and Touka. He decorated it with Touka. That apartment was where they spent their first night together. Even after they broke up, he didn’t let any other woman in there. That place was his and Touka’s, together. Selling it would mean letting go of that final thread holding them together.

“You have to, Kaneki.” Akira’s tone was sympathetic but firm. “You could be sued if you don’t pay some of those fees and your royalties right now won’t cut it. People are still mad at you and won’t show your movies or buy them.”

“Isn’t there any work I can do right now? I’ll do anything.” Kaneki was quietly pleading. “Can’t I take money from the trust fund?”

“No, Arima was very clear in his will that you cannot access that till you’re 30. I already asked the lawyers.” Akira felt a hitch in her throat at the mention of Arima, and looking at Kaneki, she could tell he felt the same.

Kaneki’s tone became stern “I’ll have to think about this before I sign.” He stood up. “Where are my keys?” He extended his hand.

“You won’t be staying at your place. Too many photographers.” She handed him the folder. “You’ll stay at Hide’s place till you finish the Netflix production.”

Kaneki snatched the folder from Akira’s hand and walked outside. He couldn’t hide the anger in his step. He pressed the elevator’s button as if it offended him personally. He took another look at the document inside the folder before throwing the whole thing in the trash.

[puckngrind]

Skating Lessons part 16

Summary: More time in the hospital.  Does the reader get to come home?

Warnings: maybe swearing, it’s in a hospital...that’s about it.

Word count: 2954

Series Masterlist

You looked over at Josh after the doctor let you sit up finally. He was standing next to your bed. There was that familiar smirk on his face but it had been replaced with a look of distress and the color was gone from his face.

“Josh.” You reach out to grab his elbow. “Babe.” You tug a little on his hoodie to bring him back to you. His eyebrows are furrowed and you can see his mind is racing. “Josh.” You mustard all the power you could since your voice sounds weaker than it should be.

“Sorry.” He rubs his face. “Did you say surgery?” His hand drops and you take the chance to interlace your fingers in his and pull him towards you.

“Well, not necessary and not right now regardless.” Dr. Jaynes puts his hand on your foot which is still being stabilized. “We will have to let (y/n) heal a little. Keep it in a boot. X-ray in another week. Take it week by week.” He emphasized the end and Josh turns to look you up and down.

“See baby, I’m fine.” You squeeze his hand and smile at him. He huffs and looks you over again.

��(Y/n), I’m thankful this is all we have to worry about but this is far from fine Sweetie.” Josh’s jaw is clinched.

“I agree, this could have been very serious. I’ve seen many patients come in with worse conditions and accidents that were not a bad as yours. We want to monitor you today but you should be discharged tomorrow morning if all goes well. Change your meds and get a boot on your foot that you can go home in. The nurse and Physical therapist will be after lunch to fit your boot and talk home care. Any questions?”

“Can I wear normal clothes yet?” You were tired of this gown that showed all the bruising on your body. You could see Josh’s face when he saw them and you knew Mason would not be able to handle it.

“Well, let’s get the boot on and make sure we don’t need to do any more tests then yes. Can someone bring you some?” You go to say your mom could run by on her way here but then you hear Josh starting to talk.

“I can. I’ll go get my car, shower, get your clothes and some breakfast. Sound okay? It won’t take me long.” Josh brings your hand up to his lips and kisses softly.

The staff all leave and Josh almost immediately has his lips on yours. You breathe him in. How does he still smell so amazing? He’s pretty much been in the same sweats since morning skate yesterday.

“I don’t want to leave you but I’ll be quick plus someone is coming to sit with you until our mom gets here.” Josh kisses you again and you need to get your phone and ask mom for lipgloss. You feel how chapped your lips are against his.

“Wait, what?” You processed that he said someone was coming to sit with you. You give him a look trying to read his face but the look is one you’ve never seen from him until today. “Josh, I don’t need anyone to sit with me. My mom will be here in like an hour.”

“It’s an hour too long and it’s too late. They are here.” He looks down at his phone and back at you. Sure enough in walks Natalie Atkinson and Janelle Foligno. Your hand immediately goes to your hair to try and tame the mess. Josh is greeting them at the door and moves to let them in. Janelle has the biggest edible arrangement you’ve ever seen and sits it next to your bed.

“Hey (y/n)!” Natalie comes right next to you and places her hand on yours. “You have all of us freaked out.” She eyes you like she wants to give you a hug but isn’t sure so you lean in to initiate.

“Thank you, sorry. Wasn’t expecting this clearly.” You smile and the ladies quietly laugh. You eye Josh with a mouthful of pineapple. “Are you eating my gift?”

“Um...Stress eating.” He mumbles though bites and hands you the card.

All our love,

The Lady Jackets

It’s simple but speaks volumes.

“See, hockey is a family. They all have been blowing my phone up since I got the call.” Josh now has a strawberry in his mouth and hands you a skewer. He had told you but you were starting to see it. While it’s a business and his job these people really were his family in Columbus and they had their arms wide open for you and Mason to join.

Josh kisses you and made Janelle promise to call him if any doctor came in before he got back. He kisses the top of your head again and Janelle hands him her keys. He stares at you whispers he loves you and ducks out.

“You’ve changed him.” Janelle smiles softly at you. “Nick agrees. You bring out the best of him and we are so thankful he found you.” She places her hand in yours then goes to pulls up the chair across the room to sit next to Natalie.

You were thankful for Janelle and Natalie. They didn’t focus on your accident just talking about your boys, the kids, and your favorite things to do with kids in Columbus. You found yourself easily talking to them like you’ve been friends for years.

“Honey?” Your mom’s voice comes from behind the door. Her face was puzzled as she took in the room. She nodded to the girls and leaned in to rub your face like she’s always done and kissed your forehead. You introduced Janelle and Natalie. “Thank you for keeping (y/n) company while I got Mason to school and her dad off to work.”

“How’s Mason?” Your voice is the strongest it’s felt since your crash.

“He knows you are at the hospital with a hurt foot but that’s it. We didn’t know what to tell him.” Her hand rubs yours. “I’m glad you are so alert. When Josh texted saying you were more like yourself I thought there was some wishful thinking there.”

“They are weaning me off the meds so I can go home. And dad?” Your eyebrows pressed together to try and read your mom’s face.

“He’s keeping himself busy to he doesn’t have to think about it. The man couldn’t find his socks in his own sock drawer this morning.” Her statement produced a laugh out of the room. You could only imagine. You sprained your knee in high school and he completely relandscaped the yard while you waited for your ortho appointment to see if you torn any ligaments.

Your mom easily fell into conversation as she stood at your side brushing your hair. All of a sudden you could smell food. “Josh is back.” You exclaimed in a hushed voice and the three women all looked at you then the door.

Sure enough Josh walks in with a backpack that he makes look tiny and breakfast.

“Well, I guess I didn’t bring enough food for the party ladies, just our patient.” He had two bags from Fox in Snow and what you can only guess is your favorite, New Orleans Iced Coffee. He takes a sip.

“Wait, that’s not for me?” You look at him disappointed.

“Well, I wanted a sip before you downed it.” He laughs and hands it over.

“And Fox in Snow is a little out of the way from your place?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Yeah, I took a detour.” He rubs he back of his neck and slowly sits on your bed.

Your mom was already moving your tray over so Josh can lay out your breakfast. Janelle and Natalie said their goodbyes to all three of you.

“So what did you ladies talk about?” Josh had shoved his ham and cheese baguette in his mouth.

“You mainly.” He almost chokes which makes you laugh. “You okay babe? And did you time this out so you were there when the baguettes were available?” You smile at him and grab your own.

“Maybe...” he smirks at you. “And what about me were you talking about?” His eyes meet yours then he looks over to your mom who has made herself comfortable in the chair next to you.

“Oh you know, girl talk. But we also talked about where I love to take Mace too.” He gives you a glare that makes you almost laugh.

“Speaking is Mace...is he coming here after school?”

“That’s the plan.” Your mom chimes in not looking up from her magazine. “Also depends on (y/n) too.”

“Yeah, let’s see how this afternoon goes. You can bring him for dinner maybe?” You look at Josh and then your Mom.

“I told preschool I would pick him up today. Figured we can do lunch and hang out until your dad got home.” She finally looks at you. She has her ‘not going to my emotions get the best of me’ face on. You once called it stoic and got an ear full from her. “I’m glad Josh is here since I’ll have to leave soon to get in that lovely pick up line.”

You could tell your mom was relieved Josh was here. You were thankful too but you didn’t want him to miss anymore work. “Thank you mom. I know how much that pick up line is the death of you.” You giggle and turn your attention to Josh who has kept a hand on your body and still managing to eat. “And J, you need to go back to work. Isn’t there a game tomorrow?” You move your leg a bit to nudge him.

“It’s in 2 days. I’m only going to morning skate tomorrow and leaving as soon as your are released. Torts is okay with it.” He rubs his hand up your leg.

“Babe, you need to go back to...” you try to repeat but Josh interrupts you.

“Nope. Torts is a family first kind of coach. I’m sure he wouldn’t let me practice if I showed up anyway. Plus we have a quick roadie to Pittsburgh in three days.”

“And you are going to that?” It came out more like a statement than a question.

“As long as you are settled. Your mom and I already talked about plans for home.” Josh’s smirk was back.

“Yes we did.” Mom chimes in again. You almost forgot she was there for a moment.

“I’m your primary care taker and she’s worked out the whole Mason thing and then back up when I’m gone. Plus Beth is going to help.” Josh looks pleased with himself.

“Wait? What? Beth? Plan?” Your puzzled look makes both your mom and Josh laugh.

“Yeah, your mom wasn’t exactly comfortable with the showering thing.” Josh’s smile reaches his eyes as he chuckles.

“Oh. My. Word. What the...” You look at Josh and feel the heat flood to your face. You see your mom laughing silently next to you.

“There is only one person in this room that has seen you naked in the last four years and it’s not me.” Your mom laughs out. How was this conversation happening? You eye Josh who just shrugs his shoulders with a look of satisfaction.

“She’s not wrong there babe.” This makes your hands cover your face in sheer embarrassment.

“Can we please talk about something else?” You mumble through your palms. Your mom and Josh comfortably talking about seeing you naked is the last thing you want to discuss or imagine.

“Sure.” You hear another voice coming through door. Your eyes dart towards the voice. The physical therapist introduces himself and you know the red on your cheeks is not going anywhere anytime soon. “I’m not here for your boot yet but I needed to make sure if you brought pants that they would fit or if your family needed to go get something else.” He eyes Josh who clearly hasn’t noticed. You clear your throat and motion to bag.

“Oh! I brought my sweats since I was sure your leggings weren’t fitting over a boot.” Josh gets up to retrieve the bag and pulls out his old team sweats. You catch the PT’s eyes widen and you smile knowing he’s figured out who Josh is.

“Can she wear them?” The physical therapist eyes you and then Josh.

“Yes, she has before plus these are old so if we need to cut them we can.” Josh tugs at the drawstring and you know by the smirk on his face he remembers the last time you wore them. “I’m Josh by the way.” Josh reaches out his hand to the therapist.

“Yeah. Yes, I know. Huge fan. Like major fan.” You laugh at the exchange. Seeing men fangirl over your boyfriend was entertaining especially medicated. “Anyway, I’ll be back after lunch. We wanted to wait to see if (y/n) needed any more tests and we can put the boot on, talk after release care, and such.” He looks at you again and then to your mom then back to Josh. “We will need an idea of a plan for when discharge happens tomorrow too.”

“Taken care of.” Josh proudly admits.

“Oh, great. (Y/n) being home by herself really should be at a minimum until she figures out the whole balance thing.” The therapist is only talking to Josh at this point and your mom is watching the interaction in amusement.

“Wait, balance? Because of my foot?” You chime in confused because a broken foot shouldn’t be this big of a deal.

“Oh, uh, maybe...oh...has the doctor not discussed?” The professional standing in front of your bed sounds like a first year med student if that.

“Please just tell me.” You see your mom’s face contort and Josh flinch.

“You may have vertigo from whiplash that you haven’t noticed since you’ve been laying flat and on pretty heavy meds.” He clears his throat and takes in the room. “It’s nothing that will last a significant amount of time but with the foot plus the potential of vertigo your balance won’t be the best.”

“So...” Josh pipes up. “When are we going to figure out if this is something we need to worry about or not?” You are impressed with his composure and ability to ask the right questions. It’s very sexy.  The therapist seems almost intimidated and excuses himself to what you assume is get your doctor.  Your focus turns to Josh but you don’t get a chance to say a word.

“I need to go get Mason.” Your mom’s voice wasn’t as light as it was earlier.

“Mom.”  You squeak out.  “I’m fine.”  You think if you keep saying it everyone will actually believe you.

“Sweetie, I know.  It’s just a lot.  And yes, I know it could be worse but you could also just be home with some cuts and scrapes.”  She made her way to you and kisses your forehead.  

Lunch and the fitting of the boot were somewhat relaxing.  Getting the pins out of your leg from the stabilized was a relief.  The doctor explained the vertigo and had a team help you stand.  He was right.  Your balance was off and you would have fallen on your face if Josh wasn’t in front of you.  His strong arms flexed and came around you almost lifting you up on your bed.  Dr. Jaynes gave you permission to wear normal clothes since Mason was coming and Josh helped you change just in time.

“MOMMA!”  Mason came crashing through the door with a teddy bear that had an Anderson shirt on.  Josh lifted him up to help get him on the bed without hurting you.  “Look, we got you a bear like Bauer but it has Josh’s number on it!”  He hands you the bear and you hug it then him.  Josh has a look in his eye that brings a tear to yours.  

“Baby, I’ve missed you.”  You croak out.  Josh takes this moment to jump in.

“Mace, are you ready to be my big helper for Momma?”  Josh sits behind Mason on your bed and Mason leans into him.

“Yes.  We have to help her get better so she can skate for my birthday.”  Mason looks up at Josh and Josh’s face softens.

“Well bud, even if she isn’t, I’ll make sure she gets on the ice with you. Okay?”  Josh rubs Mason’s arm and looks deep into your eyes.  “Babe you okay?”  He notices the watery eyes.

“Yes.  Just ready to get home.”  You didn’t want to admit how Mason’s interaction with Josh was making you emotional.  

A new nurse walks in for meds.  Josh stands up but Mason doesn’t move.  She introduces herself and turns her attention to Mason.  “Hi sweetie.  I need to check your mom.  Could you stand with your dad or grandparents for second?” Josh’s eyes bugged out of his head and your lips curl up but Mason is the one to answer.

“Dad? He’s my Josh.”  You giggle a little and the look on nurse’s face was priceless.  You eye Josh who you can see swallowing the lump in his throat as his initial shock look turns to a sweet one.   Josh really was the closest thing to a dad Mason has ever had.  And the fact that Mason claimed him as his made your heart skip a beat.  

“Yup, I’m yours.  That’s for sure.” Josh pulls Mason up into his arms and gives him a kiss on his forehead and you melt right there in your hospital bed.

[jade4813]

Temptation, Chapter 4

Title: Temptation

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Iris West is a famous supermodel who has been getting a string of death threats. Barry Allen is the bodyguard hired to protect her. A Westallen AU. Gift for @andie1223​ in appreciation of her grand prize-winning contribution to the 2019 Westallen Sock Drive!

Chapters: 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Barry felt all the air leave his body in a whoosh as he watched her. Her smile grew taunting as she crouched next to the water, swiping her hand across its surface to send droplets of water his way. He straightened, shoving his hands in his pant pockets in a futile attempt to hide his body’s reaction to her. “Iris, I -” he somehow managed, but his voice trailed off when he realized he didn’t have the first idea what he’d been about to say.

“Yes?” she asked, feigning innocence as she stood and turned toward him. “Are you saying you don’t want to go swimming with me, Barry Allen?” she teased.

“It isn’t…I’m not…I-I can’t,” he finally managed, the strain evident in his voice. “It wouldn’t be…with my job…”

She sighed, and he couldn’t help but watch the way her muscles stretched under her skin as she moved. “That’s a shame.” Stepping over the dress that lay discarded in a pool of fabric on the ground, she walked towards the doorway, forcing him to step out of her way.

“You’re not going swimming?” he asked, more from a contrary desire to stop her from leaving than out of genuine curiosity.

Iris shook her head. “That wasn’t the workout I had in mind. Night, Barry.”

Calling himself seven different kinds of fool, Barry watched as she disappeared into the house. Then, blowing out a sharp breath, he walked forward, not even pausing to take off his shoes before stepping over the edge and falling into the pool. As the cold water swept over his head, he already knew it wouldn’t be enough to calm his racing blood. No doubt it would be some time before he would be able to get the image of her naked body out of his mind. Not to mention his dreams.

The next morning, Barry arose early. He’d been unable to sleep much the night before, unable to stop thinking about Iris. He tried everything he could to keep his mind on the job. He was being paid to protect her, nothing else. At the very least, it was unprofessional of him to imagine running his tongue over her body, checking to see if the rest of her tasted as good as her kiss. But try as he might, as he stretched out in bed, he couldn’t keep from imagining if she slept in anything more than she apparently swam in.

Rubbing a hand across his tired eyes as he stepped out of the shower attached to the guest room, Barry grabbed his phone and hit the button to call his team. He had to find a way to get Iris out of her mind. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by her. And if he was to remain sharp, he couldn’t afford many more sleepless nights spent thinking about her.

“Hey, boss,” the warm greeting pulled him out of his thoughts. “You’re up early.”

He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice as he replied, “It’s that kind of job.”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing some digging since your call yesterday. Looks like she’s a pro at driving off security staff. She giving you a run for your money already?”

He sighed. “It isn’t like that, Sara. She just doesn’t like having her privacy invaded. And I can’t say I blame her.”

“No, but it is part of the job, and we wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t necessary.”

“That doesn’t mean our clients have to like it.”

“I guess,” she replied, her tone clearly indicating she didn’t buy it for a minute. Sara was very good at her job, but she wasn’t known for her patience with other points of view. Her stubbornness had gotten on the wrong side of more than one client over the years, but her quick thinking and physical prowess made her the best person to have watching your back in a fight. She might have angered several clients, but none had ever been injured or killed on her watch. At the end of the day, that was what mattered to him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to step in on this one? I’m sure I could handle one runaway model.”

For a moment, he was tempted. He couldn’t get Iris out of his mind, and he knew that wasn’t the best thing for the job. But he knew Iris wasn’t thrilled about having a new security detail at all. Her cooperation seemed tenuous at best, and if Sara came in to relieve him, he suspected Iris would balk.

Of course, part of him knew he simply didn’t want to be away from her, and he was trying to rationalize an excuse to stay.

“I’ve got it. For now. Did you make any headway on the list I sent over last night?”

She sighed. “We’ve been working our way through them, but we haven’t come across any likely suspects. What about boyfriends? You didn’t flag any names on the list.”

He grimaced. They usually started with lovers – or ex-lovers – for a reason. “I’m still working on it. I assume you’ve been doing some digging online?”

“Of course. We’ll keep at it and let you know if we find anything.”

It had been too much to hope the case would be wrapped up that easily, but that didn’t stop him from being a little disappointed it wasn’t. “Thanks. I’ll check in later.”

Glancing at the clock as he ended the call, he noticed it was almost seven. Time to start the day. After throwing on some clothes, he headed out of his room, intending to track down some breakfast. He smelled coffee and heard someone moving around the kitchen, and his traitorous heart leapt at the realization that Iris was up already. Was it wrong of him to hope she’d had as much difficulty sleeping as he’d had?

He was so focused on thoughts of the woman he was about to see that it took a fraction of a second longer than it should for him to register the sound of someone moving around inside Iris’s bedroom as he passed by. Pausing just a moment to confirm that he heard two distinct sounds of people moving inside the house, he crept toward her bedroom door and opened it silently, hoping his suspicions were correct and it wasn’t Iris he was about to surprise. Just because she’d stood before him in the nude last night didn’t mean she’d welcome him imposing upon her today.

But he needn’t have worried. As he shoved the door open, he saw a man standing next to the bed, his back to the door. The stranger was naked but for a pair of boxers, and Barry saw red. Without even stopping to consider the best course of action, he charged forward. The man let out a squawk of surprise as Barry tackled him from behind, driving him to the ground. Before the intruder could react, Barry twisted his arm behind his back, putting him in a joint lock as he drove his knee into the man’s back. “Don’t move!” he barked. Then he yelled, “Iris! Call the police!”

“Wha – who the hell are you?” the man demanded, his voice slightly muffled as his cheek pressed into the carpet. This close to the man, he noticed that the stranger’s hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and he wondered at the stalker’s nerve. How had Iris not heard the sound of a shower running? Then again, perhaps she did while she was in the kitchen and she assumed it was him.

“Barry, no! Wait! This isn’t what you think!” Iris yelled as she raced into the room. “I let him in!”

“What?” Barry asked, shooting a glance up at her. That was when he noticed that her hair was also damp from the shower, falling in a riot of curls that framed her face. Had they showered together? At the thought, he unconsciously tightened the joint lock a fraction until his captive let out a yelp.

“Barry, this is Eddie. I-I invited him over. He isn’t the guy you’re looking for. Let him go.” Her voice was soft but firm.

“I – You invited him in? When? It isn’t even seven in the morning!”

“I – um – I invited him over last night. After you went to bed.”

That meant he’d come over some time after two in the morning. Unable to bear thinking about the implications of that, he tried to focus on his responsibilities, instead. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” he asked in mild indignation, trying not to notice how adorable she looked when she was blushing.

In response, Iris raised her chin and glared at him. “I wasn’t entirely sure it was any of your business.”

“Not any of my business? Iris, do I really need to tell you why this is exactly the kind of thing I should know about?”

“Can you guys talk about this later? After you let me up?” the man – Eddie, apparently – grumbled from the ground.

Hesitating only a second, Barry begrudgingly stood, releasing his hold. Then, turning his attention back to Iris, he resolved to ignore Eddie entirely. “So is he your boyfriend?” he asked, somewhat more harshly than he’d intended.

She crossed her arms over her chest and threw him a defiant look. “Are you asking because it’s your job? Or because you’re jealous?”

Barry tried to hide his automatic reaction, gritting his teeth to bite back the words asking her if her boyfriend knew about what had happened – or almost happened – the night before. “I’m asking because it’s my job. I asked you yesterday if you had any boyfriends we should be looking into. I’d say he applies.” He gestured vaguely in Eddie’s direction.

“He’s standing right here, you know,” Eddie interjected, sounding somewhat offended to be so ignored. “And Iris isn’t – ”

“Don’t, Eddie. This doesn’t really concern you,” Iris interrupted him.

“It kind of concerns me,” he grumbled. “I was the one on the ground a second ago.”

“Eddie –” she growled. Then she paused and sighed, throwing him a rueful look. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told Barry you were coming over. I should have realized what he’d think when he caught you here. But, Barry, really, you have to believe me. Eddie isn’t the guy you’re looking for. He’s completely harmless!”

“Hey! I am not!” Eddie blurted indignantly. As Iris and Barry both looked at him in surprise, he explained sheepishly, “I mean, I’d never hurt Iris, of course. Or anyone. But you don’t have to make it sound like I couldn’t hurt someone if I wanted to. I have some skills! I studied martial arts for three days when I was prepping to audition for Never Surrender!”

Catching the expression on Iris’s face, he grimaced. “You know what? You guys clearly have some things to talk about. I – I should go. I’ll – I’ll just go get dressed. Thanks for letting me stay last night. If you ever change your mind about my offer, give me a call.”

Barry wondered if Eddie knew how close he came to eating more carpet when he leaned down to press a kiss against Iris’s cheek. But he didn’t take his eyes from Iris as Eddie grabbed his clothes from a chair and slunk off into the hall, looking for a private place to get dressed.

When they were alone, Barry sighed. “Iris, I don’t mean to invade your privacy. But you know as well as I do that your stalker could be someone close to you. If Eddie is your…if he’s someone close to you, I need to check him out.”

“Eddie isn’t the stalker. You have to trust me on this. You can check him out if you want to, but you’re wasting your time. Eddie and I aren’t – we aren’t together anymore. We used to be. A long time ago. But now…it’s complicated. We let the papers believe we’re together sometimes, because it’s good for business. But we’re just friends. He may be many things, but an obsessed stalker isn’t one of them.”

Though he knew he shouldn’t care what Iris and Eddie were to each other, he felt the muscles in his shoulders relax at her words. Cursing himself silently, he hoped she couldn’t read his feelings on his face as he nodded. “Maybe not. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure.”

“So that’s really all it is? Just a job?” At his confused look, she lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. Her expression sheepish, she admitted, “I guess I had hoped you were maybe a little jealous. That isn’t why I invited Eddie over. He called me when he was leaving a party nearby, and he’d had too much to drink so…it doesn’t matter. But I…well, I thought I made it pretty clear to you last night that I’m – that I’m attracted to you. When you turned me down, I wondered if…well, I had hoped the attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided.”

He knew the smart thing to do would be to let her believe he wasn’t interested. It would be easier for him if he let her walk away. But having her so close, he didn’t have the strength to do it. He’d turned her down the night before, and she’d haunted his fantasies ever since. He didn’t know how long he would be able to convince himself that keeping her at a distance was the right thing to do, but he knew he couldn’t let her think he simply didn’t care.

“Damn it, Iris,” he growled, framing her face in his hands. “Of course I’m jealous.” He shouldn’t be jealous of Eddie. He didn’t have the right to be. But he was.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled her hard against him and captured her mouth in a kiss.

[musesbleuses]

From the writing case of Dr. G. Pepridge:

Dear [Redacted]

I've finally equipped my cabin with all that I need for the foreseeable future. I'm stocked with furniture, equipment, hunting supplies, and of course, paper. I will send this out the next chance I get. Though the winter may yet be young, the snow is thick and unyielding, and the boy has not come for the weekly supply run. The flakes of snow are small but many. Their crystalline bodies cut each other off and bounce away, obscuring the horizon.

In them I see all the possibility in what I do not yet know. The fresh snow drifting down is picked up and played with by the wind before settling on the flakes that came before it, only to be picked up and thrown about again. I see in the distance, atop a nearby hill, the ghost of an old tree. It draws my gaze, hardly an hour goes by that I am not compelled to stare up at it. The steadfast silhouette of it, I am beginning to see it in my dreams.

The world turns white and sparkling in the morning sun, and in the evenings the world moves to shimmering blue scale. Yet the blunt outlines of the corporeal shadow atop the hill stay black and haunting. As a solid specter, it stands fixed in the shifting, curling world around it. The stark shape a relief from the ever present blue/grey of the sky.

It's unfazed and accustomed to the world. The life it leads is on a scale incomprehensible to us.

I cannot help but wonder if there is a way to understand it.

In truth, my dear, I am rather envious of it. Since the moment I last saw you, I have been envious of every creature or thing that has never seen you. Their hearts don't know the pain that is missing you.

Always thinking of you,

G

Dear [Redacted]

I know that days are passing, but it feels to me as though time has come to a standstill. The sun circles the sky but it never rises, never sinks. When I breathe, I breathe in dark, perpetual, glittering blue. The boy has not come round for some time now, but I have lost track of the days.

The ghost atop the hill has become my only comfort in this cold world. I feel as though I never sleep, although, that I never wake up. Perhaps a storm broke one of my windows, the wind smothering my fireplace and inviting the frozen air to come in and make itself at home. Perhaps I was asleep when this happened. My blankets and furs losing the battle between themselves and the cold onslaught. My body will, as bodies tend to do, fail. I don't wake up to feel this failure. Being conscious is deemed too taxing during a time when energy must be preserved. The fight against the brutal air a loosing battle. In my unconsciousness, my body has permission to fade into itself, until there is nothing left for this world to observe.

Ah, this is naught but a fiction. But I do find myself comforted by it. I am awake, I am always awake, and kept company by the looming silhouette always close by.

When my body is tired, I lay myself down on my bed and close my eyes. I am ready to embrace the unconscious world, but my mind is called elsewhere. I am transported. I fly through the wind, for once unbothered by the whistling, cutting breeze. I see my familiar specter waiting for me, always, patiently, waiting. It's twisting branches and solid trunk stand darkly silhouetted against the blue backdrop of sky and snow. I slow as I approach, eager to connect, but reveling in the anticipation. And secretly, scared too.

I can admit to you, my dear, that in the moments before I reach her, I am scared. The closer I get to her, the smaller I grow. Parts of me are received by her before others; I look down at myself, see my translucent hands stretched away from me, pulled into her. The rest of me follows, and abruptly I'm within her, a part of her.

We can see everything.

As much as I try to prepare myself for this moment in my waking hours, I cannot help but gasp in wonder and pain at the brusque exposure of my senses to her world.

My consciousness when my eyes are open is so puny, so pitiful. All it knows is the pain of its heart, it's lungs, it's hands with the blackened fingertips.

But oh, darling, when I'm a part of her I am aware of so much more! I can see the stars underneath the earth! I push through the void, searching for pockets of bright supernovas and twisting galaxies of energy waiting to be explored. I push my roots towards them, exploring them eagerly. Animals and fungi travel their way towards me. I am like gravity to them, my roots and wood are salvation to them.

But I am, as always, torn from her power and comfort. My eyes open, and I resign myself to another day in this accursed body. Were that I with her forever, the world would not be so bleak.

Thinking of you,

G

Dear [Redacted]

I apologize for the state of my handwriting. My gloves are thinned from use and I found it necessary to spend an evening removing the blackened remains of my picky and forefinger on my writing hand. I used a heated blade. I remember learning about that a lifetime ago, but through literature or lecture I can't recall. I do not think I did a bad job, though the smell of heated metal on dead flesh caused me to lose my lunch. I know enough to know that they are not infected, and I was able to fashion a crude sort of hand wrap from the remains of the squirrels I have taken to hunting.

I don't want to lose more of my hands. I have use for them still. These letters to you keep me sane in this harsh, waking world. When I close my eyes, it mattes not. My hands are always whole when I visit my friend atop the hill.

She has been calling to me more. She craves my touch, misses my attention, feels empty without me. I am beginning to feel empty without her. The more my body breaks the less it feels like my body, the more she begs me to stay, the more I want to obey her.

I don't know how long I've been here. This endless winter creeps into every crevice of my brain, eroding all that I used to know. I don't remember why I came here. I know I miss you, but I don't remember why you're not here with me. Sometimes, in the space between my body and hers, when I fly through the air and look for my shadow on the pristine ground, even though I know that souls don't leave shadows, I feel as though you could almost be flying next to me. I never look. If you are I would have to react, and if you weren't all my hope would be dashed. I live in a static world, choosing limbo over pain or pleasure.

But then I reach her, and she reaches for me with strong branches and welcomes me in. I close my eyes and fall into her embrace, and again I can feel the earth move. Time, which already does not seem to pass in this everlasting, lukewarm light, slows even more to negligible increments.

We live in awareness, without the pressure of action or reaction. We move on a scale so vastly different to the rest of the world that we have no choice but to accept all that happens. In those moments, I can breathe in quiet relief, thanks to her comfort to a mere spirit taking refuge in her space.

The snow weighs our branches and chills our bark, but her memories tell me that this shall pass, we only have to wait. In time, the snow will leave, as all things do, and it will return to us again, cooling us after we're warmed in the sun of summer. These things happen, without our input or meddling. These moments are medicine to my soul.

When I open my eyes, torn once more from shelter, I am forced to react. My skin demands warmth, so I build a fire. My stomach demands food, so I leave in search of meat or edible vegetation.

The senses of my body are not longer adequate. My hearing, attuned now to the sounds of wind, and rain, and the gossip of other plants and fungi, searches for these connections and find none. The snow dulls the sound that travel over the land.  My eyes, which can only see in the one direction I point them, are stifling. The white of the ground reflects the ceaseless sun, and I am blinded. My face is sore from all the squinting I must do. And I cannot feel anything through these bloody layers of clothing I wear over my skin! I cannot remember the last time I was free of clothing. Was it with you, my dear? How long ago did you leave me?

Through this pain, still yours,

G

Love,

I linger with my silhouetted branches atop the hill. I watch them through my window. They shimmer in the snow, and I'm afraid that one day they're going to shimmer away, and they were nothing but a mirage. The beauty of this sight chills me, for it seems too uncorrupted to be a part of my world.

I believe I saw the sun move yesterday, the light is beginning to change again, ever so slightly. Each day is no longer colder than the one before, though they are not warming yet either. Time is returning to me.

I wish it wouldn't. I have found comfort in eternity.

When I join with her atop the hill, our memories tell me that as the snow melts, new life that hid away in the ground will begin to emerge. It will gather latent strength and push up through the thawing dirt. I think I knew that, from before, a lifetime ago, but I cannot remember when or where. It's unimportant.

I am excited to experience this. We can feel ourself preparing for the sun, slowly shaking awake, leaving dormancy behind for another year. Our roots, spread so far, so deep, can feel animals and seeds alike tensing for a chance to escape their life underground and move on to the next life in their heavens.

I too am beginning to look forward to my next life in the heavens. When I opened my eyes again yesterday and saw above me dead wood and paint I could not breathe. So disoriented was I! I had lost my wind, lost my sky, my stars, my sun, lost the universe beneath my feet, feeling so isolated from everything! Where had they gone? Why had they abandoned me?

You will be pleased to hear that after my initial panic I took action! I knew I could not live like this anymore. The walls surrounding me, cutting me off from the world, was driving me insane, I could feel it! I took my hammer and used the lean-to to climb to the roof.  I pushed off as much of the snow as I could, and when there was no more snow, a layer of ice that had taken all winter to accumulate confronted me. I smashed it with a crack that echoed through the valley, and pushed off the ice as well.

I found my way across the newly bared roof, atop to where I guess my bed would be, and I started beating the shingles. This loathsome roof could no longer imprison me! I would not let it.

It took time and a great deal of energy, but I prevailed! I got down from the roof and made my way inside. I took the parts of roof that had fallen on my bed and threw them in the fire, which flared at me in gratitude.

That night when I lay in bed, preparing to close my eyes and rejoin my other self on the hill, my body lay bathed in moonlight that glinted and danced across the snowflakes drifting towards me. Gentle breezes from above encouraged more crystals to find their way to me. It's all connected, and I was not missing out. I'm connected now, too. I did that, took my fate into my own, maimed hands, and connected myself to the cold of this world.

Am I still connected with you?

Love,

G

[Redacted]

Have you ever danced in the snowlight, my love? I thought I saw you today. The wind tossed up the snow blanketing the earth and it fell on the air in your shape. I was sitting peaceful atop my hill, and you danced around me, playing with the tips of my branches, brushing your cold fingers past my bark. Your body sparkled in the frosty light surrounding us. I sat graceful and steady, my slimmest branches returned and shared your movement. I missed you less in that moment then I have ever missed you before. Have you finally chosen to join me?

I spend more time as a ghost then I do as a real person. I think this should frighten me, but it doesn't. It feels right. I think I was born to be a ghost in this world. The physical pain of being real is almost overwhelming now. Even as I write this, I feel tender and sore, bruised down to my core.

Can I confess to you a truth, my love? I can feel shame burning inside of me for my efforts to keep this knowledge hidden. Maybe if I tell you, my shame will ease, and it won't hurt so to be real.

Here is my secret.

I have never visited the silhouetted tree as a real person. Oh, the shame! Of never touching my love with real hands, even back when they were whole. I will tell you why I've avoided her.

I'm afraid she's not real. I visit her, I join her, I become her, but only when I close my eyes. Were I to visit her in the stark, unfailing daylight, I might never reach her. As I walk towards her will she move away? Will I reach the top of the hill, only to find her shimmering form perched atop the next one? Am I cursed to chase the source of my peace forever?

What if she isn't real? A true ghost? A mirage of a silhouette of hope which I can never caresses, which can never steady shaking body. Is everything I love in this life doomed to fade away when I am close enough to touch?

Now you know my fear. I hope you do not think less of me. I am letting this fear control my days. I dare not wander too close to her, but when I close my eyes she draws my spirit to her. When my body isn't holding me back, I am able to embrace her. I welcome her summons. I welcome her direction, her distraction.

It's my cursed body. Without it I would be free to be with her. As one, we could simply exist. Doesn't that sound wonderful? To simply....be. A life without heartache or physical pain. I have found it, but I'm not allowed to stay.

Why am I not allowed to stay? Why am I afflicted so with this possibility of release! It teases me until I am begging. My body tells me of my obligations, food, water, heat, but I'm starting to forget why they're important. I'm never warm anyway. I welcomed the cold inside and the cold has made itself my home.

The parts of me that still dreams, dreams of you.

G

My love,

For a single moment I saw your face as you were years ago. Your light brown hair shone red in the sun, a small yellow flower tucked behind your ear. You were laughing, trying to hold still as a fat, clumsy bumblebee tried to drink from it. Your eyes looked almost closed, so happy and smiling you were!

The sky behind you was a blurry, warm blue. The only thing in focus was your face, and the shining, welcoming blue and green of your eyes; your beauty stunned me. This blue was so different from the cold blue I've been living in. I forgot that this feeling was possible, this warm blue feeling. I forgot how your smile warmed the world.

You've inspired me, my darling. With your smile nestled deep my heart, protecting me from within, I've decided to face my fears. I'm going to visit my soul's home in person. Last night I sunk deep into her, wishing I could stay with her forever, my ghost merged as one with her. My body jerked me back, as always. The tether between me and it fading, but still holding fast.

This may be my final letter to you. My body is weak, I can feel it waning whenever I'm present in it. My outer clothes hang loose and grotesque from its frame. My inner clothes I feel have become inseparable from my skin. My body is no longer fit to hold my spirit. I am afraid that if my body fails without ever have confirmed if the ghost on the hill doubles as a real thing in this material plane, or if it's merely a figment of my dying mind, that my spirit will not be able to find it when my body departs.

As much as I loathe the tether my soul has with this wretched body, some deep part of me understand that with this tether I am able to understand direction enough to find my way to her. Without something to leave behind me, I'll never know which way is forward. Without this shackle I would be able to hear her call, but never could I find the source. I would be exposed, without my body or my home, vulnerable, unable to process all the information of the universe without the shelter of her wood. I need to touch her, while I am still in control of this body. I need to physically pass on my tether from this body to hers. The heavens will not scare me if I am nestled in her heart.

I will no longer be able to write to you, my love, but do not cry for your loss. I will not be entirely gone from this world. I have found a new home for my spirit, a better home, one that does not mourn or feel loss or pain. In my time with her I have felt the deaths of other, distant trees, and they are not scared. They understand that they will turn into new and different life. I was once so separate from the world, but soon I will be part of it.

I will be able to make the pilgrimage to her once, and it will take everything I have left in this body. Assuming she is real, assuming she is something I can rest on, I will push my way through the frosted snow in the cold morning sun. I will clear a small space for my body and settle between her roots and rest my head back against her trunk. I will close my eyes, I will breathe deep, and my spirit will not have to travel to find my new home. My final act in this body will be gifting my soul to my savior.

As the earth turns and winter waves goodbye, my old body will invigorate my new one. I will dance with you again and again as the world turns, grows cold and warm and cold again in turn. The wind will bring you to me as light and snow, as golden leaves, as pollen and the promise of new life, as invisible laughter twirling on waves of heat.

And when many years pass, when I can feel my sanctuary begin to fade, I will cast myself out and find a new home. Maybe, hopefully, I'll find you there too.

Goodbye for now, darling, dearest, loved [Redacted].

G.