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ashxketchum · 2 years ago

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✧ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @deathberi ✧

Honestly, I'm so glad that we became friends because it's so hard to find people who vibe with your entire thought process and share all the same reactions or inhibitions over everything. Thank you so much for always lending an ear to my crazy and petty fandom or life related rants, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be as active in the Mimato fandom as I am now had we not become friends when we did 💗

After almost 2 years of telling people that there will be a part 2 of the post-Tri coffee shop oneshot, I've finally managed to pull myself together and write it for Eri's birthday!

And for a change, I'll be posting the entire fic on tumblr, though you can also read it on FFN/AO3 if you wish 🫶🏻

Summary: After the Ordinemon incident, bit by bit the kids are able to pick up the pieces and move on with their lives. Amongst the chaos of change, Yamato and Mimi discover their friendship runs deeper than either had ever thought.

Word count: 5743, Fandom: Digimon, Pairing: Mimato, Genre: Slow burn/friendship/romance

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“I’ll have a venti matcha berry frappe, nonfat, refrigerated chilled milk, absolutely no ice, extra whipped cream, which, make sure, is layered perfectly, with three pumps of caramel syrup and two of vanilla.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into his back, so Yamato did what any other good employee in his place would, he kept a straight face and diligently noted down the customer’s request before moving on to ringing it up without once bothering to look at the girl standing behind the counter or ask for her name. He wondered if his manager would find it strange, that he hadn’t taken the customer’s name, but seeing as Yamato was already putting all his effort into concentrating well on his job and not exploding on the brunette who seemed to take some pleasure out of his misery, he decided that he was allowed this one slip. He’d deal with his manager later, since the bigger problem was in front of him, eyeing him with a teasing glint in her caramel eyes as he picked up the paper cup and moved on to the workstation to begin her order. He did however, keep a track of what his manager was doing from the corner of his eye, and the minute the older man was out of sight, Yamato breathed a sigh of relief and spun on his feet.

“Please Mimi, by all means, go ahead and make my job more difficult.” Yamato seethed, managing to keep his voice low to not attract any attention to them.

“Well, if you’re going to ask that nicely,” Mimi smirked, as always she had the upper hand in the conversation due to the safety guaranteed by being a customer at the shop.

“Just take the drink and go, let me work in peace.” Yamato attempted to maintain a superior tone as he begged her to leave, turning again to add the finishing touches to her order as quickly as he could before his superior caught a whiff of his not-so-welcoming attitude towards their customers.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Mimi beamed at him, as she accepted the finished product from his hand, her fingers brushed against his own for a brief moment, suddenly making Yamato hyper aware of the spot at the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Entrance exams to worry about?” He asked exasperatedly, she seemed too carefree for someone who was in the last year of high school, remembering his own experience of it from the previous year.

Mimi scoffed in reply, waving a hand in the air to brush aside his concern for her education. Instead of turning to make her way out of the store now that she had received her order, she settled on the empty bar stool on the other side of the pick-up counter, resting one elbow on the countertop as she took careful sips of her drink from the other hand. He watched her like a hawk, Yamato wouldn’t put it past the brunette to make fake claims about the taste of the drink just to get him into trouble. This had been going on for a few months now, every time he had a shift during her after-school hours, Mimi would make it her life’s purpose to show up and annoy him to no extent. He’d attempted to explain to her, that he needed to keep this job to maintain his living expenses, but apparently, the pleasure she got from watching him stumble around while making coffee seemed to take precedence over his livelihood.

Of course, Mimi wasn’t the only one to blame here, if only his roommate at college wasn’t a bigger pain in the ass, Yamato would never had have to take up this part-time job in the first place. When he had complained to his father about not being able to get along well with his roomie, instead of agreeing to raise his monthly allowance so that Yamato could move out and rent a place of his own, his father had promptly told him that as an adult, he should learn to solve his problems from now on. Yamato had half a mind to remind his father that he and his friends had not only solved the Digital World’s problems on multiple occasions, but also saved their own world by doing so, but he'd stayed quiet and accepted his fate. On Takeru’s recommendation, he took up a job at this popular coffee joint, the pay was decent and the hours weren’t too bad and well Yamato always did have a knack for being good in the kitchen, so it suited his purposes of saving up to move out of the college dorm as soon as possible just well.

Until Mimi happened to walk in one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She was surprised to see him behind the counter, and at first, she had just been curious, about what he was doing here or what he had been up to since the graduation ceremony. Yamato admitted, that ever since he graduated high school, he’d finally understood what Jou had been struggling with for the longest time, it wasn’t easy to maintain friendships when one was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of every single aspect of their life and somehow pursue studies on which one’s future life depended at the same time. He considered himself lucky if he was able to have a phone conversation with Takeru that lasted more than 5 minutes in a day. So he hadn’t been wary of Mimi popping up every now and then, updating him about her and Koushiro’s school life, and sometimes Jou’s and Sora’s too. It gave him a way to stay connected with everyone without having to make time for them, and while he did feel guilty about this on multiple occasions, he was grateful for it too.

That was before Mimi got bored with just talking about their lives, and decided to spice up their encounters by getting him into light trouble with his manager. It was usually just silly little things like claiming he got her order wrong or giving extremely complicated and hard to follow requests, and she had never pulled something huge that would seriously get Yamato in trouble, but it was still frustrating and it ruined his mojo for the rest of his shift.

There was also the question of why Mimi had suddenly taken such a liking to spending time with him, of all people, since they'd never been close enough for a relationship like this. They’d spent time together before sure, and they’d had their fair share of agreements and disagreements when it came to matters related to the Digital World, but apart from that Yamato could barely remember any interactions with her that didn’t circle back to the Digital World or their Digimon Partners. So the thought always nagged at him, at the back of his head, when she would appear with a skip in her step and fix him with one of the brightest smiles he knew.

But then she would go on to do something diabolical, and he’d be reminded of how similar she was to his little brother, which led to him missing Takeru and left him irritated and wishing for her to leave.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yamato turned his attention towards the brunette sitting in front of him, she had set down the drink on the countertop and was currently surveying the store with her bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them indicating that she was just looking for something that could serve as a prop of the day in interfering with his work. Relieved that he had caught her while she was still in her planning phase, Yamato decided to take control of the situation before his manager returned and reprimanded him for being rude to their customers.

“You really don’t have anything better to do?” Yamato began icily, making Mimi turn her gaze towards him, the challenging look on her face seemed to put the last nail to his patience’s coffin as he snapped at her, “Don’t you have any friends?”

He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

The effect on Mimi was immediate, all colour drained from her face and her eyes shone with a blanket of tears just waiting to fall, but with a single blink she managed to keep them at bay and faced him with a hardened look as she replied quietly, “I thought that’s what we were.”

And before Yamato could make any attempts to take back his statements or even begin to apologize for his behaviour, Mimi was out of the door, leaving behind her drink on the counter, without sparing a single glance in his direction.

Yamato allowed himself to groan out loud when he picked up her cup to clear the counter and found that it was still heavy, she had barely begun to drink it. He couldn’t help but chide himself internally, for missing something so obvious, for even deliberating on an answer that was right in front of his eyes this entire time.

Yamato couldn’t believe that he, of all people, had missed out on the signs of their budding friendship, and had pushed it aside as nothing but an occasional nuisance within his routine. His optimistic side hoped that he would just explain himself to her when she’d show up tomorrow, even offer her her favourite drink for free as a token of his apology. But a tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him, that there was no way Mimi would come back to spend time with him after this.

Unfortunately, it was the tiny voice that prevailed in its prediction, as Mimi didn’t show up the next day or the one after that, or after that.

At first, Yamato consoled himself by devoting himself to the tasks at hand, happy to finally be able to concentrate on his work, he managed to win praises from his manager on multiple occasions which pushed Mimi’s absence from his surroundings out of his head, and for a while, it worked.

But then there were slow days when he didn’t have much to do but stand behind the counter and look at all the people sitting around in groups or twos and threes, laughing and chatting loudly as they sipped their coffees and munched on their food. The sight would tug on an invisible string in his heart, making him long for Mimi’s teasing smile as she rattled off an order comprising of the most incompatible ingredients, laughing loudly at the look of horror that would take over his face as he wrote down her instructions. There were days when the shop would be eerily silent, and he’d hear her voice in his head, telling him about something that had happened at school. There were days when someone would walk by with a pet, cuddling it and showering it with affection, making him miss Gabumon’s soft fur and he’d instinctively turn towards the pick-up counter, hoping to tell Mimi about it but was met with emptiness instead.

He hadn’t realised, just how much he had managed to share with her during their encounters, and how he had begun to depend on her company to get him through his mundane work life. And in true Yamato fashion, he had gone ahead and messed it all up by thinking about things from only his perspective.

It was on another such slow day when Yamato was just standing behind the counter with mundane blue eyes watching the people that passed by the cafe's entrance that his father’s words echoed in his mind once again. As an adult he had to learn to solve his problems without help from others, so was standing here day in and day out, waiting for Mimi to appear through the door once again really how he wanted this to end? He knew he was capable of doing better, and that realisation came with a burst of motivation to take matters into his own hand.

Looking at the ingredients lined up on the shelf behind him, Yamato put his mind and then hands to work, coming up with a coffee drink only Mimi would enjoy sipping through. After he set the finished drink aside, he carefully checked his manager's office, which had been empty when he had clocked in, and to his delight was still so. Asking around among his colleagues he found that their senior was on leave today and after a quick roster negotiation with the staff he was on good terms with, Yamato picked up the coffee cup and ducked out of work early.

His feet carried him towards his school without needing many instructions from his brain, but what he did notice was that his coffee shop was actually not that far from it at all. Maybe another reason why Mimi had ended up dropping by so frequently, it probably was just a stop on her way home from school. When he arrived at the school gates, he checked the time on his wristwatch and smiled to himself, just a few more minutes and the students would begin pouring out in herds.

As time passed, however, Yamato shifted his feet restlessly, he hadn’t visited this area since he graduated and standing outside the entrance to his school while he was not in uniform made him feel like he was doing something wrong, that any of his teachers would just waltz up to him parroting off the school policy any minute. He didn’t have much of a choice, however, since this was his decision and turning back now just to escape a little bit of embarrassment would set him back a few steps over the progress he was trying to make. He gripped the takeaway coffee cup in his hand and reminded himself that the reason he was here was to make amends, no matter what the consequences.

So he stood a few paces away from the school’s main gate and kept a watchful eye on the students passing by in groups of threes and fours, hoping to catch hold of the person he had come here to see soon enough. Yamato had expected her to be out the doors mixed in with a big group of girls, laughing and chattering away about their day, but he'd been standing here for a while now and despite the large crowd of students that had already exited the building, he was yet to lay his eyes upon her. The coffee cup in his hand had been chilled to the point that it felt frozen when he left the shop with it but now it was starting to slowly lose its coolness, and he wondered if he had chosen the wrong day to show up. Maybe Mimi was busy with some club meeting after school or she might’ve taken a sick day today, which would mean that he’d have to repeat his efforts some other day. The school could easily let him camp outside for a day, but surely he’d raise some questioning eyebrows if he appeared here for two consecutive days.

But just as he was contemplating turning around and going back, his eyes finally caught sight of the familiar shade of pastel hair, that shined with a hint of pink when the light hit it just right. To his surprise, however, Mimi was not exiting the school in a large group surrounded by friends, she was walking all by herself with hands shoved in her coat’s pocket and her head hanging low, a sight that Yamato never expected to see. He didn’t want to seem like he was putting her in a mould, but at some level for him, Mimi was the personification of brightness, so to see her look so dull and drained was almost eye-opening in some sense. Now he felt even more guilty for his actions before, for pushing her away and treating her like a nuisance without ever giving a second thought to what kind of problems she was facing by herself.

The Ordinemon incident took its toll on each of them in different ways, for Taichi witnessing their teacher’s death made an irreparable hole in his heart, for Hikari coming to terms with the fact that she and her brother shared idealistic differences hadn’t been easy, for Jou and Sora, completely moving on from their responsibilities as a chosen child to focus on themselves and their futures was a bittersweet choice, for Takeru learning to make the most of the things that hurt him took centerstage in his life, and for Koushiro drowning himself in working to make the connection between the Digital World and their world more stable became his life’s only goal.

And yet somehow, Yamato assumed that Mimi was unaffected, that she was the only one out of them all who conquered the painful memories and continued to live life as happily as she always had. It hadn’t crossed his mind at all that the reason why she sat across him at the coffee shop day in and day out could have just been a way for her to avoid dealing with her problems. He never even considered the possibility that the few moments of laughter and teasing she shared with him could have been the highlight of her day. Perhaps, it had been reassuring for Yamato to think that at least one of them made it out of that fiasco unharmed, maybe assuming that he had one friend less to worry about was an easier truth to accept.

After all, what help had his silent presence been of to Taichi, or even to Takeru for that matter? Had he been able to find the comforting words to tell Jou and Sora that they made the right decision? Had he ever taken a moment to understand where Hikari’s anger towards Taichi came from, or what kind of unreasonable expectations Koushiro set for himself? No, the only moment when Yamato felt that he was doing something right as a friend was when Mimi sat across him with her bright eyes and loud laugh filling his world with colours unimaginable.

Taking a deep breath, Yamato kept his eyes fixed on the brunette who now had reached the school gate without noticing him. He knew that if he called out to her, it might draw unneeded attention towards her so he waited for her to turn her back to him as she walked in the direction of the train station. Swiftly, but as unsuspiciously as he could, he followed her before eventually falling into step with her. With her head still hung low, it seemed that Mimi was yet to notice his presence.

“Hey, Mimi!”

Yamato called out to her in a normal tone, but Mimi still jumped up in surprise, eyes wide with disbelief as she halted in her tracks and looked up at him.

“Are you looking to get punched?” She frowned at him as she rested a palm on her chest, possibly trying to calm herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to startle you.” Yamato smiled sheepishly, realising that he hadn’t made the best move after all.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

The sarcasm dripping from Mimi’s voice and the gloomy aura that surrounded her was a clear sign of how maybe today was not the best day for Yamato to carry out his plan. But the now slightly less cold cup of coffee in his hand reminded him that since he made it this far, there was no point in turning back now.

“Sorry, again,” Yamato said, moving quickly to make space for a passer-by which put him directly in front of Mimi. With all the courage that he had left in his bones, he raised the cup of coffee in his hand, offering it to her as he spoke, “I got some time off today so I thought I’d bring you a peace offering.”

Mimi didn’t immediately take the cup from his hand which made a shiver run down his spine as she folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head up towards him, shooting a glare at him with her fierce caramel eyes as she asked, “And why should I bother to accept this peace offering?”

Yamato bit his lip nervously as his grip on the coffee cup tightened. The apology he had practised at home, kind of tied in with the premise that Mimi would accept his little token and then agree to hear him out in her usual lighter mood. He couldn’t be sure if the words he originally picked would please the Mimi that stood in front of him now with a guarded posture and distrustful eyes.

“Look, I really am sorry for the way I behaved,” he said. Mimi immediately scoffed at him and began to roll her eyes so he hastily explained himself better, “I know you find that hard to believe right now, but I’m not sure how I can prove it to you if you don’t have a little faith in me.

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or it may have been his blunt choice of words, but there was a flicker in Mimi’s eyes as her head perked up, indicating that she was beginning to let down her guard. She raised a hesitant hand and before he knew it, her fingers brushed against his as she decided to take the coffee cup he had prepared for her.

Yamato curled his fists to contain the excitement that rushed through his veins at the thought of being able to earn Mimi’s forgiveness just as he had imagined it in his head. He recounted his next words carefully in his mind before speaking up again, his voice filled with twice the confidence he had started with.

“Of course, I consider us friends.”

Mimi’s eyes widened at his simple declaration, it was hard to miss the colour that rushed to her pale cheeks, the sight of which made his own heartbeat pick up pace, though he did not understand the reason why it happened.

“I have always considered you as a friend, right from the very first time we got dumped into the Digital World.” Yamato continued, knowing that he had her undivided attention, he didn’t want to waste any time dwelling on his own feelings. Chuckling softly, Yamato ran a hand through his hair before he spoke again, “And believe me I know that I haven’t exactly been good at showing it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Again, I’m sorry about what I said, and of course, the way I behaved.”

She averted her gaze the minute he stopped speaking so at first, Yamato thought that he had said something wrong. A thin veil of silence settled between them and each passing second that Mimi did not look up to meet his eye started to feel like a hellish eternity. Had she been expecting him to say something else, had he not understood why she was mad at him, had he stood there and apologised for something else entirely, questions like these kept racing through Yamato’s head as he waited for the brunette to, in some way, acknowledge his words.

When Mimi finally did raise her head and peeked at him from under her lashes, he thought the relief that filled his body would make him faint but instead, her shining eyes and the smile tugging at her lips made him feel like he was dangling on the edge of cloud nine.

“Thank you for saying that.” Her voice was faint, but the sweet smile that gradually graced her face made up for it. She tucked the strands of hair, that always framed her face perfectly, behind her ears. Her hands then shifted to the hem of her school skirt as she fidgeted with it, dropping her gaze once again before saying, “That, uh, means a lot to me.”

Finally being able to apologise, and have his apology get accepted did lift a heavy weight off of Yamato’s shoulders, but somehow watching Mimi squirm nervously under his stare made an unfamiliar feeling settle in his stomach. Perhaps he was just surprised, he thought, that Mimi wasn’t gloating over getting him to admit his mistakes or acting smug about it the way she would have done back when they’d been younger. It was just an effect of being privy to a new side of his childhood friend, he told himself, he shouldn’t attach too much meaning to something so irrelevant. Rather, he should be focusing on the fact that he had just won Mimi’s forgiveness and although in reality the two still stood rooted to their spots on the side of the pavement, Yamato felt that they had taken a huge step towards each other at that moment.

But still, just to be sure, Yamato decided that he needed to hear her say it more definitively.

“So…”

“So?” Mimi raised her eyes as she began to walk again.

“Am I forgiven?” Yamato asked nervously, as he quickly followed in her steps and settled into a pace next to her.

“That depends, am I allowed back in the coffee shop?” She stuck her tongue out at him, indicating that her spirits had been lifted and that of course Yamato was forgiven.

“I never stopped you from coming in!”

“But you acted like you didn’t want me there.”

Her teasing, sing-song voice struck a nerve with him but Yamato just rolled his eyes. Not even a full minute had passed since they’d made up and Mimi had already begun to mess with him. But this time, he wasn’t as bothered as he used to get, in fact, he welcomed her little giggles here and there since it just meant that they were back to being friends again. Being teased over little things was but a small price to pay for having Mimi’s melodic laugh back in his life.

“Yeah, yeah, you can come by any time you want.” Yamato shook his head as the two took a turn that led them down the steps towards the train station.

“Well, of course, I’m not going to come by any time, I’m going to come when you’re working!”

“That’s great. Just perfect.” He muttered under his breath dejectedly as Mimi shook with laughter next to him.

When they crossed through the gates of the station, Yamato knew that he needed to head in the opposite direction to reach his home, but he still found himself tagging along with Mimi, having wordlessly decided that he might as well drop her off till her house. The train they boarded was crowded at first which didn’t give them many chances to continue their conversation, but after a few stations, their compartment cleared and the two quickly grabbed a pair of seats together. Having settled down comfortably, and with their stop still being a bit further away, Yamato decided to bring up something that had been bothering him for a little while.

“Uh, is everything okay at school?”

His sudden question surprised Mimi and she whipped her head in his direction with an incredulous look on her face.

“Why do you ask?”

“You just looked a little down when you got out,” Yamato said, rubbing the back of his head out of an anxious habit.

“Okay, stalker.” Mimi chuckled quietly, despite the smug look she sent his way, it was easy to tell that her voice lacked a hint of humour.

“I wasn’t stalking, I was waiting for you!” He still defended himself despite knowing that she might have teased him to get on his nerves and change the subject.

“School’s the same as always, I don’t really fit in.” Mimi tried to shrug off the disappointment in her voice as she turned her gaze towards her sneakers.

“What about Koushiro?”

“He barely attends classes these days, his scores are so good that they let him do remote learning.”

“Oh. So you’re…” Yamato stopped mid-sentence, swallowing the word that was at the tip of his tongue.

“Alone.” Mimi finished for him with a dry smile, “Mostly. Unless Miyako and Hikari spare me some time or if Takeru runs into me in the hallway during lunch break.”

“I see.”

While leaving school Mimi had looked quite grim, but as she talked about it right now, the solemn look on her face made it seem like she had made her peace with the way things were. Maybe it had just been Yamato’s luck that he’d managed to catch her on a bad day. He kept this thought to himself, and even Mimi didn’t speak much for the rest of the ride. As they exited the train at the right station, Yamato wondered if he should say something to make Mimi feel better, even if it didn’t particularly look like she needed it. But since he had brought up the topic that had made the conversation go stale between them, he felt that it was his duty to do something to make things pick up pace between them again.

“College isn’t so easy either you know,” he remarked as the two passed through the exit gates, catching Mimi’s attention immediately. She motioned towards the way her house was located once they were above ground and Yamato realised that even if the neighbourhood felt familiar, it had been a long time since had last been around this area. Shaking his head, he continued to explain his own predicaments to Mimi, with the hope that it might help her feel that she wasn’t the only one struggling, “My roommate is an ass, everyone in my year is so competitive, I don’t feel like I can trust anyone enough to call them a friend.”

“Wow, you sure shouldn’t be allowed to speak to any high school seniors preparing for their entrance exams right about now.” She looked at him pointedly.

“Wait, I meant...no-jus- argh!”Yamato felt his ears go red as he realised how he’d spoken without thinking things through. He exhaled a deep breath, the sound of which drowned under Mimi’s laughter over his behaviour, in a more stable and sensible tone he added, “What I meant was that for me, college isn’t easy just like school isn’t for you. I am in no way trying to demotivate you from applying.”

“I know, I know.” Mimi grinned at him as she bumped her shoulder against his arm lightly, letting him know that yet again, she was just teasing, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

The two walked in a comfortable silence after this and it wasn’t until Mimi’s apartment building came into sight that she suddenly spoke up.

“Things would be easier if I had just one person to lean on. Just one friend to talk to.”

Yamato stopped in his tracks and so did Mimi, a few steps ahead of him. The sight of her looking wistfully up at the light purple dusk sky, coupled with the longing reflected in her voice, spurred something inexplicable inside him. It was the first time Yamato realised how beautiful her pastel hair looked under the faint evening light, how her caramel eyes mirrored alluring gold coins as the light danced off of them, and how even at a distance her porcelain skin looked like it was soft enough to melt against his touch.

“You’ve got me.”

Though his voice was barely above a whisper, the words escaped his lips before he could control himself. He hoped that the warmth that filled his cheeks at the moment could be attributed to the weather when Mimi shifted her attention towards him with a curious look on her face. He wasn’t sure whether his words had reached her so Yamato cleared his throat loudly, attempting to get rid of any unnecessary thoughts that had begun to cloud his mind, he rephrased what he had blurted out accidentally in a more suitable manner.

“I’ll be that friend, gladly.”

“And what should I be,” Mimi fully turned herself in his direction, putting her hands behind her back, she tilted her head and with a mischievous smile playing on her lips she finished her question, “in return, for you?”

It wasn’t easy for Yamato to maintain eye contact with Mimi and not blurt something stupid out again, especially not when the stars that were now starting to appear in the sky behind her almost forming a halo around her head with their glow. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, was his heart really beating faster than it had ever before, was the heat coursing through his body not a sign of some kind of illness befalling him? How did his simple wish to make amends with Mimi over a cup of coffee make him end up here, asking questions that had never crossed his mind before?

Yamato peeled his eyes away from Mimi and looked at the ground, rubbing his neck with one hand as he answered her question, “Friendship isn’t a give and take kind of situation, you can just be yourself.”

“Deal!” She laughed and winked at him, before bowing her head slightly in thanks for accompanying her home. With a wave and a loud bye-bye, she pushed open the door to the apartment entrance and disappeared behind it.

Yamato stood at the pavement, watching her silhouette slowly fade behind the glass doors of the building entrance, only one thought circling around in his mind. He had just labelled their relationship as a friendship, even though he knew that the tightness in his chest which grew the further away Mimi got from him was not something one would feel for a friend. He raised his hand and rested it over his chest, feeling the rapid and loud beating of his heart until it gradually became normal again.

It was funny how trying to resolve things with Mimi had left him with many more unresolved feelings and thoughts, the opposite of what he had expected today’s encounter would lead to.

With a scoff Yamato turned on his heel, facing the vast sky above him he reminded himself that following his dad’s advice never did seem to work out well for him.

#mimato #digimon #digimon fanfiction #yamato ishida #mimi tachikawa #digimon adventure tri #digigraphic #graphics : mine #graphics : digimon #writealot #IF YOU SEE THIS POST YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW ERI #AND SPAM LIKE/REBLOG HER ART

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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 3 years ago

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Cornucopia | II — Castimonium III | Father Paul X Fem!Reader | English

SUMMARY | AO3 | MY MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: Miriam goes to the Ash Wednesday Mass and the Crock Pot Luck, and feel that maybe her faith have some chance of redemption; She meets Hassan and tries to convince the good Sheriff to help her investigate the island. She drowns herself in a certain pair of brown eyes.

Chapter Title: Castimonium (/castīmōniae/; latin): abstinence; abstinence (sexual/from meat) for ritual; purity of morals; chastity.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Past Religious Trauma, Mentions of Xenophobia, Religious Imagery, Dialogues from the Show, Mentions of Blood, Minor Mentions of feeding your dog with inappropriate food, Minor Mentions of Animal Death, Minor Mentions of Alcoholism.

Word Count: 12.7K (Yeah, I know, this is HUGE)

Note: Skin, hair and body descriptions were purposely vague, everything has been handled as vague as possible so that everything can be read as a reader fic.

Again, English isn’t my mother language, so I’m sorry for any orthography or writing mistakes you might find.

A/N: I should have mentioned this in chapter 1, but anyway, let's see… Here's the thing, I was raised Catholic, but in name only, you know? Honestly, I've only been to church five times in twenty years, four seventh-day services and the opening of a family-founded chapel. That said, it's not like I've really suffered from religion, as I know some people have.

In general, Catholicism was only a thorn in my side during my teen years for a variety of reasons, so if the way the OFC deals with their faith seems vague, that's because I'm putting my point of view in theirs.

I have my share of childhood traumas linked to religion (just a few, mostly about my sexuality), but nothing that has made me completely abandon the feeling of faith has only made it numb. What I mean is that every part where I describe the OFC's reactions to Paul's sermon was my own, watching the series.

Having said that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one might take a while to come out, but I'll do what I can to prevent that. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND KINDNESS!!

THE WOODEN FLOOR at the entrance to the Church of St. Patrick's creaked under her foot. The scent of incense, paraffin, and varnish filled Miriam's nostrils as soon as she entered the church aisle.

That was, in a way, familiar. So many people filled the varnished pews, sharing their faith as they waited hopefully for an answer to their prayers. Harper remembered walking into St. Agnes weekly, obediently sitting on the third bench from the left, praying for the day to come when she would get rid of that place.

Not the worst of memories, she rationalized.

Miriam walked calmly around the side of the church, she was slightly late, but it was clear that the mass had not yet started due to the incessant hustle. Scanning the people seated on the benches, the young woman looked for Erin Greene among the islanders. As soon as her eyes landed on the expectant mother, she felt an unwanted shiver run down her spine as she heard the voice of the last person she wanted to talk to.

“Well, I certainly did not expect to see you here, Miss. Harper.” Beverly Keane's squeaky, smugly sugary voice seemed to poke holes in the accountant's ears.

Slowly, Miriam turned to face the deaconess. With an equally sugary smile on her face, the young woman took a few steps closer. Her shrewd eyes returned to Bev, she was wearing some sort of white ceremonial clause, so long it almost swept the floor. The sunlight streaming through the church's glass windows cast a shadow against the deaconess. That strange detail unnerved another shiver down Miriam's back. Taking a deep breath, the young woman greeted the devotee.

“Good morning, Miss. Keane.” Greeted the accountant, her tone mimicking the sickeningly sweet tone the woman in white customarily used with her, the condescending timbre of someone confident in the certainty of being God's favourite. “In fact, it is not common for me to come to Mass, but I was so kindly invited by Father Paul. That I felt compelled to come and witness one of his much-lauded homilies.” Miriam gave a discreet emphasis when she mentioned the fact that she had been invited, an emphasis she knew the deaconess would not miss.

“I see.” The sugary smile Bev gave her faded and turned sour at the mention of the dark-haired priest. “I found it curious that someone who so openly despises Catholic dogmas should deign to set foot in a church of their own free will. Isn’t that just a guess?” The deaconess clasped her slender hands in front of her, a lopsided smile painting the freckles across her face.

“I assure you, Miss. Keane, that I didn't feel any burning on my heathen skin as I passed through the entrance arch,” the young accountant told her, a simple gaze brushing the orbs, as if innocently not noticing the sarcasm in the words.

Miriam normally harboured a demure tenacity in her responses to the deaconess, but this particular morning she felt especially astute. Beverly Keane grinned, not amused at the insult uttered, but still she didn't give up and very subtly tilted her neck, studying the robes the woman in front of her wore. A slight look of disapproval twisting her face.

Despite not wanting to, Miriam let her gaze stray to her own clothes. Her robes weren't flashy. She was slipping into a plain leaf green dress that stopped just past her knees, — knees that were covered in long, dark-coloured tights for the sole purpose of shielding her legs from the icy breeze. The cleavage she possessed mimicked the clothes that peasant women used to wear. It exposed her bust and shoulders, but she had remembered to cover them with a knitted shawl in the same colour, thick enough in case the weather changed. Or even in case she got some unwanted looks, such as the one the deaconess sent her.

She looked decent, nothing that could be considered vulgar, but obviously Bev had looked at her as if she were wearing a hooker's clothes. Arching an eyebrow, the young woman waited for the deaconess to utter the insult she so clearly wanted. Beverly pretended not to understand the questioning look sent her. The obvious trepidation pricked Miriam's patience.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, still using the condescending tone the deaconess used when addressing her. However, there was a hint of impatience in the words that escaped the young woman. The deaconess smiled.

With a deep inhalation, Miriam shoved her hands into the front pockets of her dress and glanced toward the organist as he began to play one of the hymns from the red hymnal. The murmurs and whispers that filled the church were suddenly silenced. That seemed enough to wake Bev from her silent judgment.

“None. Well, at least, coming to church, maybe, you don't rethink your faith. After all, Lent is a time of repentance.”, she said with a lopsided smile and a nod. The deaconess began to move toward her usual spot in front of the altar, each step firm, an irritating cockiness in the way she moved.

There was a clear contempt in the way she had pronounced the words 'repentance' and 'lent', but not a contempt per se, directed at the words, as if they represented something repugnant, but something more subjective, the disgust and decadent look were directed at the woman with whom she spoke. Miriam, at that moment, assumed that, definitively and utterly, she didn't like Beverly Keane. She also concluded that she was okay with the deaconess not liking her either. Mutual displeasure was indeed simpler to deal with than one-sided displeasure.

“Certainly Ms. Keane. Certainly…”, her exasperated whisper, was covered by the chorus of voices fervently intoning the anthem.

There weren't enough people to fill all the seats, but enough to allow Harper to feel a slightly agonizing feeling of claustrophobia. With steady strides, Miriam took her place beside Erin with a sigh. A knowing look was exchanged between them, the curly woman having spotted the small, disgusted interaction with the outrageous warrior of Christ. Handling her wrist, the pregnant woman turned the hymnal of a vibrant red between them so that both could sing the hymn.

Miriam felt an agony seize her breath, as if there wasn't enough air in that small nave, lit by the golden rays of morning. The melancholy lyrics weighed heavily on the woman's tongue. Taking a deep breath, she caught in her peripheral vision a purple figure beside her. A deep, smoky voice sounding beside her, the very words she chanted so dispassionately.

The priest had his chin resting on the tips of his long fingers, his forehead bowed to the central crucifix. Tiptoeing, the cleric climbed the short staircase that led to the altar, but not without first bowing to his Lord. The purple clause licked the floor as the priest bowed, and returned to hover low to the floor once he rose to his full height.

Miriam could smell the lemongrass and myrrh from the thurible in Warren's hands burning its way into her lungs. The entire devoted chorus of voices fell silent as the good priest took his place behind the pulpit, the organist having stopped playing just before each had taken their seats.

Affectionate warmth spread through Paul's chest as his eyes landed on the small female figure dressed in green. In a way, his awkward visit to the newcomer's abode had inspired him to improve his homily. The preacher in his mind hoped she would appreciate his words.

His dark eyes then darted from the accountant to the growing huddle of worshippers in front of him, honest joy pumping through his veins at the sight. Once again the word of God was becoming necessary and present in the peaceful lives of each one of those individuals of faith who prostrated themselves before him, and once again he would be the messenger of good news to the people of the Lord.

“It's great to see so many of you here today,” he began, his deep, rich voice reverberating through the church aisle effortlessly. “But I do have to ask, why not every Sunday?” The rhetorical question had a graceful air on his lips. His big brown eyes pierced the faces of the faithful in attendance, a little doubt in some of those who didn't usually show up on a weekly basis.

Harper listened to his words, curious to have proof of the validity of Erin's praise. Still, she was lost for a moment in the lighting coming from the window beside the pulpit, the faint gray light adorning the priest's thick black curls like a kind of halo. A silly smile curved her lips without her awareness.

“Christmas, Easter, I get that,” continued the man of God. “But there’s also always an uptick around the start of Lent.” His long fingers played briefly with the red ribbon that demarcated the pages of holy scripture. “Why’s that? What's so special today?” His hands forgot the marker and hovered in the air in front of him momentarily.

The young newcomer watched with unquestioning attention the subtle enthusiasm that hovered in every word uttered by the good priest. The way the man moved his hands, gesticulating as he spoke, and the expectant glint that gleamed in the dark pools of his eyes was almost youthful. Miriam saw a man passionate about his mission.

“Ash Wednesday, beginning of Lent. It's hardly a crowd pleaser.” His rich voice wore a chaste smile at the comment. Both hands rested on the pulpit, a deep inhalation followed, a pause. “The beginning of repentance, making amends for our sins.” Paul averted his eyes the slightest bit from everyone, his gaze wandering briefly to the Holy book in front of him.

There was a weight on his chest. Guilt.

“Sin,” looking up, the word slipped from the preacher's lips just as his orbs inconveniently fell on Miriam.

Harper caught the restrained look the good priest had sent her, the contrition of the word slipping into her mind like a fungus. Her serene expression was slightly disturbed by a confused little crease between her brows. She wondered if he did it intentionally, but the seed of insecurity shouldn't take root, not about this. She blinked a few times to clear her mind as she continued to listen to him.

“This darkness, this blackness that spilled into us.” His tone carries a strange shadow, as do his eyes, a glimpse of the demons guarded in his mind, his conscience heavy. “That darkness, we wear it on our forehead today.” A flick of his hand towards his forehead, a glance at the spot where dear Millie used to be.

The restless shadow that momentarily reflects in the priest's eyes does not escape Miriam's perception. A feeling of familiarity lodged in her chest. There was something about Paul that disturbed her, something she still couldn't name. The most beautiful flowers also have their thorns, the saying rips her mind. Maybe there was something in her soul that shared that thing in his brown eyes, but it was too early to tell.

“Just a smudge of it. Uh…” Paul trailed off for a moment, the scrape of a mournful voice in the back of his mind, derailing his thoughts.

His eyes seek focus on the small, reddened notebook he's jotted down his sermon in, the yellowed pages and the words written on them drowning out the angel's whispers.

“A smudge of death, of ash, of sin for repentance.”, another gesture of his pianist's hand, which soon returned to firm itself in the varnished wood of the pulpit. “Because of where this is all actually heading, which is Easter. Rebirth, resurrection, eternal life. Life that rises again.” There is a clarity in the way he pronounces the words, a timely sincerity that imparts serenity to those who listen. So many years on the job must have drained him, but since his miracle, his faith had been renewed, as had he.

The words are crystal clear, each one expressing a singular purpose, a chaste intention to reinvigorate the faith of those people who so often faced disgrace. Miriam allowed herself to look away from the messenger and pay attention to the way each believer absorbed the Word. The priest's booming voice continues his sermon.

“Even out of blackness, love rises again,” the resurrected messenger intones the words with conviction, a welcome musicality peppering an extra layer of vigor into his message. “Even out of sin. And this island, it will rise again.” A new wave of pure contentment is injected through his veins as he watches the emotional faces of those he has known so intimately for so many years.

Harper feels a brief excitement well up in her core, her long-forgotten faith moving ever so slightly, an affable hope ignited by the dark-haired priest's words.

“Even out of disaster, rebirth, restoration, eternal life.” As he utters those words once more, Paul almost breaks away from the uncertainty that he is right in his mission, the fire of his own faith rekindling mournfully. God chose him, gifted him, and the gift should be shared. “Jesus sees you.” His voice rises, his ebony orbs fondly studying each slightly refreshed face. “Sees you, best of all, and he sees you true.” He flicked his wrist again, gesturing to no one in particular.

Miriam looked closely at the faces of the islanders. Ed Flynn, who sat forward, was nodding with conviction, the scorching pride of his faith reflected in his drooping gaze. His wife, sweet Anne, had a bluish handkerchief pressed up to her nostrils, a fervent emotion pushing tears into her pale eyes. There was a passion contained in that sermon, realizing it spread a welcoming warmth in the newcomer's chest, the words moved something inside her. Looks like I still have some chance of redemption, don't I? She thought, her shrewd gaze straying to the crucified Jesus in front of the altar.

“Because, don’t forget, who did he seek out?” His tone had risen an octave, the lyrical excitement gradually taking hold of him. “Who did he turn to, to build his church? His apostles.”, the good cleric could no longer contain his own delight in recognizing the joy of belief in the teary eyes of those people. His people. “Jesus' first disciples, they were fishermen. One of his first miracles, right?” His hands, once restrained on the pulpit, now gesticulated expansively, like a conductor's ghost. The clause sleeves fluttering around him.

Harper's heart pounded with the passion of the words he spoke. She reflected on the weight that passionate homily had on the island's residents. It was certainly moving to watch these people nurture their belief so beautifully, even for her.

“The nets are empty, fishermen desperate. Jesus said, 'Put out into deep water and let down your nets for a catch’, and when they pulled up those nets, amounts of fish.”, the smile that painted his face and his voice singing was capable of lighting up an entire city. “He sees you.” In his voice was a relentless conviction, bringing tears to the eyes of the children he had seen grow up. “Oh yes, he sees you, brothers and sisters, and he will resurrect this island, and he will fill your nets.” Hope gleamed in the parishioners' eyes. Looking forward to having your prayers finally heard.

Paul felt nourished. Nourished by the love of God, and he now had his heart warmed by the love of his parish.

“It’s great you’re here today, but please keep coming back.”, the presbytery pleaded in its lilting voice, a polite plea for them not to lose faith. “Those doors, they’re always open, as the gates are always open. You just bring yourself. God will do the rest.”, the good priest wished his beloved parishioners to remain resolute. Blessings would come. “As Psalm 60 tells us, ‘God, You have rejected us, You have broken us down, You have been angry. Restore us again.'” His ebony orbs rose to the heavens, emphasizing his speech.

They'll need your faith intact for what's to come, a voice similar to his, — but not his —, whispered in his mind. God's chosen must show that faith is to be rewarded, another rather more sullen voice covered his own thoughts for not less than an instant. A chill ran down his spine and there was a heaviness in his chest.

Suddenly, there was a slightly overwhelming energy in the church. Miriam could feel the constricting of air in her lungs, the cosy warmth that had covered her chest evaporated into an awkward feeling, an uncomfortable heaviness, one that only she seemed to cherish. A shiver snaked through her back and she shifted uncomfortably against the old wooden bench. She averted her eyes to the red hymnal in front of her, one hand running involuntarily over the white coats of her rosary.

“Do you know what psalms are? They're songs.” Paul turned his gaze to the believers listening to him, their orbs reflecting a now dimmed glow. “The word psalm from the Greek psalmoi. It means ‘music’.”, the bows that his hand executed, slightly waved his clause, giving the impression of being the slender fan of a blue bird. “Songs of prayer. Songs of praise.” The musicianship had found its way back into his voice. “That's who we are. That's who we must be.” As a true and experienced preacher, Paul presided over the mass hypnotically, everyone's eyes fixed on him and his persuasive words.

Each small pearly dimension marked its spherical shape in the young woman's fingers. A deep breath of closed eyes, and she returned the orbs to the cloth man at the altar. Miriam no longer felt the strange sensation, as suddenly as it came, it was gone in the musicality of the priest's voice, leaving in its wake a strange feeling of disturbance, the kind you get just after hearing an abnormal noise in a house where only you reside.

“That’s what it means to have faith,” a deep breath, and then his eyes dropped to the figure in green once more. “That in the darkness, in the worst of it, in the absence of light and hope, we sing.”, An involuntary smile paints his face at the end of the sentence. “‘Restore us,’ we sing to the sky. And He will, my friends. He will.” Averting his gaze from the huddled female form in the background, he turned his gaze to the open Bible, the shimmering glow of the gold-edged pages soothing his mind, drowning out the voice and the weight of his gift. “That same hand that dealt you your hardship, that same hand will make you whole.” And with the same serenity with which it began, his homily ended.

There was a long silence after the sermon ended. Each parishioner absorbed the good priest's refreshing words in silence. And for what felt like the first time in months, Miriam's mind was completely and utterly silent. There was no paperwork, no cat corpses, no anxiety, no grief. Just a sepulchral silence in her awareness.

She remembered those moments of strange peace. As much as she harboured a contempt for the way she had spent her years in St. Agnes, Miriam had bittersweet memories of her times of solitude in the boarding school's small, dark chapel. However, this time, a feeling of familiarity blossomed. Her mind fast-forwarding to the Sundays her mother took her to church, her youthful self little interested in the old abbot's words. She recalled with a slight frown that on the way home, Lyanna had made a point of explaining to her every parable the abbot had quoted during his sermon.

The gloomy notes of the organ suddenly pulled her out of her mournful reverie, along with Erin's harmonious voice murmuring her name. Looking up, — having blinked a few plaintive tears away —, Miriam paid attention around her. A line of parishioners had quickly formed, up ahead, at the head of the line, was Father Paul. The purple clause demarcating his presence. He patiently blessed with a blackened cross the forehead of every link in that chain of faith.

“Are you okay?” Erin asked with her brows drawn together in her typical maternal concern. Harper smiled weakly, and nodded, stroking the expectant mother's hand that was touching her forearm.

“Yes, just,” the woman considered her words, it would not be appropriate to fill the expectant young woman of hopeful eyes with her melancholy. She shook her head once more, purging some unwanted thoughts. “… taking it all in. You were right to sing him praises.” A simple smile curves her full lips, and Erin gives her a look that says, “I told you so.”

Both women rose from their seats and positioned themselves in the row of sinners. On instinct, Miriam wraps herself more tightly in her shawl. The smoky voice of the black-haired priest creeps into her ears, reverberating through the damp-swollen woodwork of the church and back again, in a ghostly echo.

“Ben, remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

With each step closer to her blessing, a disconcerting tightness crept into her chest. Since the visit the good priest had paid her, Miriam had not seen him in the days that followed, the unspoken tension that had built up on the day in question never being undone. Besides, against her better judgment and self-control, her restless mind began to trouble her with at least profane images about the black-haired priest.

“Fiona, remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Impure thoughts in the house of God? You will burn if he touches you. A cruel, childish voice scratched at her brain. Having the main agent of such thoughts so close to her could certainly provoke an unconscious reaction in her, something that would give her away. This particular line of reasoning sent an embarrassed shudder through her body. Calm down, it's just a blessing, it's not like you're going to combust. An irritating voice whispered in her mind, giving her some reason. Her tense shoulders cause a numb throb in her neck.

The next step was taken, Erin prostrated herself in front of the vicar, her delicate hands clasped under her chin in reverence. Taking a deep breath and straightening her posture, Miriam felt the priest's voice vibrate within her bones.

“Erin, remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Once the pregnant woman took a step to the side, crossing herself, and returned through the pews to her place among the parishioners. Miriam inhaled deeply, taking a step forward. The green-clad woman kept her eyes down on her black boots, the same mud-stained boots she'd acquired the first day she set foot on that island. The wooden floor looked worn and unkempt beneath her small heels. The distance is less than a step between her and the priest.

“Miriam, remember you are dust…”, his resonant voice trailed off. He had his fist raised to the height of her forehead, yet he stopped, his thumb dipped in dark ash flush with the skin of her forehead, but never touching. Paul wanted to look her in the eye when he blessed her.

A doubt scratched the surface of her mind. Why did he stop? An inconvenient blush crept up the newcomer's cheeks as she reluctantly lifted her shy gaze from the wood floor to the priest's warm ebony irises, she prayed her eyes wouldn't give her away.

Paul was staring at her tenderly, a stubborn lock of black hair hanging disobediently in front of those huge eyes of his. Harper inhaled deeply as she faced him, a dizzying sensation lapping at her skin. The woody scent of sandalwood, myrrh, and something minty like mint filled her lungs abundantly, the scent intensifying as the cloth man moved, tracing his thumb across her forehead, smearing her with the mark of sin.

“And to dust you shall return.”, a warmth covered the words that flowed from the priest's well-designed lips. He lowered his fist, his brown orbs about to engulf the woman in front of him. Paul studied her face, wanting to keep the sight of the lovely blush that covered her cheeks to himself. “Bless you, child.”, he uttered in a subtly knowing tone, after a moment of silence.

Their gazes held for a few moments longer than would be considered appropriate. Miriam lowered her eyes, a trembling hand crossing herself, her face so hot it felt like it was burning. Her heart in her chest resembled a caged sparrow, a heavy breath later, she found her voice.

“Amen.”

The mass did not take long to end after the blessing. In a way, there was a general anxiety on the part of all those present to be early to the end of the service so that they could enjoy the community event for a longer time.

Miriam felt her hands damp in her pockets. A few minutes had passed, her heartbeat had slowed, and as she got up to leave, she hoped Erin hadn't noticed how the measly touch on her forehead had disconcerted her. With a deep breath, she composed herself, eager to leave the oppressive environment she was in. Before she could even set foot outside the church, Harper felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, what a good thing to see you here, Miss. Harper!” Wade said with a smile on his face. Miriam turned, the tension in her shoulders causing a small, fleeting cramp in her neck.

There was an awkward moment when Miriam's eyes landed on the mayor. He looked slightly younger than she remembered, it looked like even some of the gray hairs that had sprouted at his temples and coloured his moustache were gone. The accountant blinked a few times. No, it's all in your head, maybe he just figured it out how to paint them naturally. Anyway, that wasn't the only reason she felt uncomfortable in the politician's presence.

Her investigation into Crockett Island's financial woes turned out not to be limited to just the 'Bev Keane Money Laundering Center' — as Joe had kindly dubbed it. In fact, according to her most recent information there were years of fiduciary fraud going on, on the Island, and not coincidentally, such fraud had started in the records of the year that dated Wade Scarborough's first election as mayor. It was ridiculous how often this sort of thing happened in small towns. After all, if there are no opponents you are always sure to be elected, then there is no reason to worry about having your illicit activities discovered.

Miriam's gaze shifted from the mayor to the two figures behind him: Dolly and Leeza. She wondered if the Mayoress knew her husband was corrupt. She felt sorry for Leeza, after all she would be the most harmed if Dolly knew, and they were both arrested.

“Good morning, Mayor Scarborough. Mrs. Scarborough, Leeza.” Miriam disguised her concern with her best friendly tone and greeted everyone. The young woman in the wheelchair had a bright smile on her face as she waved at the accountant.

The youthful glint in Leeza's eyes returned to Dolly, to whom she whispered something indistinct and expectant. The bespectacled woman nodded, watching her daughter make her way happily towards the altar boys and young Ali. They all smiled in an excitement that only youth can provide.

Harper looked back at the mayor a moment later, her orbs having followed Leeza.

“It's a great thing to have you here,” Dolly said, taking a few steps closer, her slender fingers pushing the clear stem of her glasses back to where they slipped. Miriam kept a thin smile on her lips, not wanting to let her contempt for the mayor's actions show on her face.

“It was a beautiful homily indeed, I haven't heard anything this refreshing since Christmas.” Wade's voice sounded slightly choked, as if he'd cried at the priest's words not long before he addressed her.

“Yes…”, an almost imperceptible blush stained the young woman's skin at the unwelcome memory of the light touch left on her forehead. “Father Paul has a gift for words.” Her voice was serene, but there was an affection that reached only her eyes. She admired how eloquent the man was, of that there was no doubt.

“I'm glad to hear that.”, the priest's booming voice sounded, as if he had been evoked with the mere mention of the name, Paul appeared behind Dolly, Erin followed him and in her beautiful face she had a shrewd look at Miriam.

The expectant mother turned to her lodger with a smile, casting a suggestive look between her and the clergy. Erin said goodbye to the good priest, Dolly, and the mayor, walking with an even more suggestive smile away from the group. The couple did not take long to leave either, both holding hands in calm strides in the direction where their offspring had gone.

Harper's cheeks felt hot, but she didn't let the feeling of self-consciousness overwhelm her this time. Keeping her back straight, she took the remaining steps to exit the interior of the church. A fresh breath of air filling her lungs with the smell of sea air and burnt lemongrass. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the calm for a moment, the warmth of a body beside her bringing her back to the present.

“So you came.” There was a smile curving the priest's lips, a gentle warmth once more spread through his being at the sight of her.

Paul kept his hands clasped in front of his body and studied carefully the way the accountant's face had softened, her hair held on the sides by bobby pins releasing a few strands that caressed the young woman's face. He looked down momentarily for fear of being caught staring when she turned her eyes to him. He scolded himself for his childish behaviour and looked up at the fair that began ahead, around the city's founding monument.

“I said I would.”, she replies with a shy smile, taking a hand out of her pocket to adjust some unruly strands of her hair that had escaped her bobby pins. “I don't say this just to please you, since lying isn't really my thing, but…”, Miriam pondered her words and turned fully to the priest, an absolutely serious look in her eyes. “It was the best sermon I ever heard,” she declares seriously. The accountant smiles as she sees him smother a laugh, a rosy colour covering his cheeks.

“I'll be spoiled if this continues.”, Paul nods, laughing at the ridiculously serious tone she gave the sentence. For a moment, he really feared he'd let her down. His own smile widens when he sees her smiling at his foolishness.

“I'm serious,” a female hand rises dramatically towards her chest to emphasize her speech. “You almost converted me.”, she says with a smile, seeing him bite his lip and shake his head a little at the affirmation. “Almost. There was very little left.”, Her sweet voice has a humorous tone, and she symbolizes with her hands the little that was missing for her so-called ‘conversion’.

“It's a pity my plan to bring this sheep back to the fold has failed.” There is a subtlety in the pronunciation of the words, a delicate sarcasm coupled with the unconvincing way in which it was spoken.

“More luck next time, Father.”, she murmurs with a half smile. There's a biting timbre to her voice, a slight sarcasm. Taking a deep breath, she shoves her hands in her pockets again. An icy breeze makes her shiver.

He lowers his eyes for a moment with a slight smile, turning back to face her a little later. There was an unusual beauty about the young woman, a melancholy that crept into her features, as if there was a strange pain that kept her always at bay, her overworked mind taking her to a dark place, away from the present, away from him.

She looked a lot healthier since the last time he saw her. In the shinier, flowing locks of hair, her skin had a healthier tone, and her lips looked more flushed and smoother than ever. A heretical memory crept through the meanderings of his mind, and he cringed in the slightest. Lust is your new virtue? Will you shame God by breaking your vows, Father? Paul shudders at the dark whisper that pollutes his mind.

Miriam took a step down the steps of St. Patrick, and the glimpse of movement was enough for him to force himself to deviate from that train of thought.

His watchful eyes then capture the rather distant figure of Sheriff Hassan, he is approaching slowly, one hand smoothing the back of his brown neck as if to expunge the tension from his shoulders, the other tucked in his pocket. Harper seems to notice him too, as she takes another step closer to the lawman.

Spread the word… You still have a flock, Father, forget about the straying sheep, the voice of the messenger sent by the lord scratched in his mind. The good priest blinked once hard and watched as Hassan approached. The whispers getting angrier in his mind.

“Good morning, Father Paul,” greeted the policeman with a restrained wave, his black eyes turning in the accountant's direction. “Miriam.”

Harper waved back at him, a patient, suddenly tired smile curving her lips. With her hands still in her pockets, she turned to the priest, her gaze dropping before meeting him, an almost imperceptible blush staining her cheeks.

“Well, I-” Miriam is suddenly interrupted by the squeaky voice of a very prim Bev Keane from inside the church. She no longer wore her ceremonial robes and seemed energetic to introduce her pastor to the local customs.

“Oh! Father, finally.” Her freckled face flashes a cheek-splitting smile for Paul, but as soon as her green eyes fall on the newcomer and the sheriff, she stiffens.

“Well, is there a problem, Sheriff?” she asks, stepping in front of the priest, putting herself in the path between him and the muslim policeman as if she were a shield against the two heathens ahead.

“None, Bev. I'm here to see the event. I saw Ms. Harper, and I took the opportunity to speak with her. We have some things to talk about.” Hassan spoke in a calm tone, exchanging a knowing look with the accountant, hands on hips, at the sudden appearance of the deaconess.

“Exactly.” Miriam began, amending the good sheriff's line. “And I was talking to Father Paul, but I don't want to rob him of his duties. Well…”, she casts a glance in the direction of the purple-clad cleric. “See you later, Father. Ms. Keane.” A restrained nod to both of them and she walks towards the festival, seeing Hassan follow her with a glance over her shoulder. “Having fun?” she asked the lawman with a smile. He snorted briefly.

“The food doesn't look bad,” he begins, taking his hands off his hips and tucking them into the pockets of his blue jeans, shrugging. “The greengrocers don't have anything very different, you know, antiques, flowers, handmade candles… Ali made me buy something in each one of them. He even made me buy a bar of green tea acne soap.” He pulls a brown paper wrapper from a jacket pocket and displays it briefly before putting it back.

“Ali seems like a good boy. Give him a break, he's just wanting to participate.”, Miriam says with a smile curving her lips. She looks up from the unkempt lawn to look around, taking in her surroundings.

The sun is no longer shrouded by heavy rain clouds, its golden rays barely shining, glistening in the white tents of the small greengrocers arranged around the town monument. Flowers, soaps, handmade candles and antiques dot each one. The devout residents of that tiny island crowded among the tents, smiling, drinking and eating to the tune of a local folk band called 'Timmy & The Whack Shack'.

Miriam recognized the lead singer, he was at mass right behind her. A laugh escaped her nose. Hassan looked at her questioningly for a moment as they made their way to the liquor store. He followed her gaze and smiled weakly.

“No cars, or digital files, or any technology that didn't become obsolete in the nineties, but still… They have a folk band. A fucking folk band living right here in Crockett. This is amazing. I'm stuck in a David Pinner book!” Harper exclaimed, raising her eyebrows with an incredulous laugh, earning the looks of a few people who heard her outrage.

“Wonders never cease.” muttered the sheriff, exasperated.

Without delay, as they approached the small makeshift wooden counter, — where a large aluminium barrel rested —, blue drink tickets were handed to them, restrained greetings were extended to the sheriff. Politely, Hassan declined his notes and Miriam accepted hers, even though she had no intention of using them.

Her peripheral vision caught the squat, gangly figure of Joe Collie, hunched over one end of the counter, his scraggly beard and gray-blended moustache drowned in a beer glass. Hassan and Harper exchanged a worried look. As the sheriff walked away to have a few words with Joe, Miriam was more interested in the diligent animal playing with something in the grass.

When she got close enough, Miriam frowned as she saw Pike muzzle a piece of bread. The sausage had rolled away on the grass, and the dog was still lying down, trying to reach the pink chunk of meat. Lowering herself onto the grass, the accountant gained the animal's gleeful attention. She caressed his cheeks and the middle of his ears with one hand, while with the other she picked up the intact piece of bread and sausage. Before the dog could snatch her hand, she walked over to a dustbin next to a bench and threw the thing away.

Miriam had had a dog a few years ago. A huge tricolour fur Bernese named Bento. Harper loved him madly and loved stroking his long, shiny fur, but like anyone who had just had their first dog, she didn't have much of a sense of what he should or shouldn't eat. She would often give him some of her pasta during lunch, after all, Bento seemed to like it so much that it felt cruel not to share her food with her best friend. Over time, obviously, the animal's silky fur started to lose its shine and softness, and poor Bento started to have dandruff and hives due to his improper diet.

Shortly afterward, Lenz informed younger Miriam that she should never feed her dog with flour. The habit of avoiding this kind of food around dogs acted naturally on her, convincing Pike not to eat it.

Harper grimaced, wiping her hand of the dog's saliva from the back of the hem of her dress. Once she approached the dog, it wagged its tail, having risen from its comfortable spot on the fresh grass, only to nearly knock the woman over as it gleefully leapt on her.

“Hello, Pike.”, she smiled widely, balancing again on the small heels and stroking the animal's big head eagerly. “You shouldn't eat wheat, boy, it will make that beautiful fur of yours fall out.” Her voice held a sweet tone, as if Pike was actually a mischievous child and not a dog.

Bento was quite different from Pike, instead of being so gangly and playful, the Bernese was quiet and sleepy, but she decided to like Pike as much as she liked Bento.

She ran her fingers over the creature's thick, glossy fur, scratching with her nails, chin, and ears. When she stood up, Miriam took a few steps closer to Joe and Hassan, both of whom were watching the interaction without much interest.

“What did he have?” Joe asked, his voice still slightly choked, but this time from the alcohol. The dog happily approached its owner, sat proudly and diligently beside him, and received a caress on the chin.

“Someone must have dropped a hot dog. He was snooping around, but I managed to throw it away before he ate.” She gestured briefly towards the trash can.

Hassan stared at the animal gaily prostrate next to him, its big pink tongue hanging out, dripping saliva, almost in a smile.

“Don't let him eat anything that has wheat or sugar, it will make him sick.” Seeing Joe's brows knit, she decided to complete it. “My brother-in-law is a veterinarian, he told me the same thing when I had a dog.”, she pointed and reached into her pocket again.

“I'll remember that.” whispered the animal's owner. With this new information, the stocky old man turned his attention to his nearly empty beer glass with a wave.

Gesturing at the dark fur-covered creature, Miriam sat down on the nearby bench. Pike trotted interestedly toward her, ears pricked, attentive, as he sat on the accountant's feet, his long tongue darting out to lick his own muzzle as the woman began scratching her nails behind his ear.

Having finished his conversation with Joe Collie, Hassan walked over to the newcomer and sat down beside him.

“You don't have a brother-in-law,” he murmured to her in his deep, husky voice. “Actually you don’t even have a brother… or a sister.” She smiled, her discerning eyes very intent on the animal between her thighs.

“No, but I consider Abel my brother, which in turn makes his husband my brother-in-law,” she explained tersely, never taking her eyes off Pike. “It doesn't matter,” concluded the accountant, finally leaning back on the bench, shoulder to shoulder with the sheriff.

“Fair.” There was a pause, the soft air in the policeman's dark eyes fading. “What did Abel say about the files?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning closer to Miriam. His black orbs watched people farther away, making sure no one but them was listening.

Miriam took a deep breath, it was obvious that her peace would only last for a short time, after all, problems just don't solve themselves.

The day after the priest's unexpected visit, Miriam found part of the documentation that implied fiduciary fraud, the fraud that had arisen during the tenure of the current mayor of Crockett. This new information added an extra headache for the accountant, and she ended up emailing her cousin with the prints of the documentation. Abel, like the good lawyer he was, asked if there were any reliable law enforcement officers on the island that she could talk to. Thus, Hassan ended up being abruptly introduced into this situation.

It wasn't enough for Bev to persecute him and his faith, now he had confirmation that she had taken advantage of poor, deranged Pruitt's plight to steal money from the construction of the Recreation Center, overpricing the materials. Besides, less than a day ago, he'd discovered that not only Bev but the mayor had been looting the island's resources.

“It's enough to subpoena them, but I don't have the legal power to do that.”, Miriam says with a sigh, blinking slowly in Hassan's direction. She stared at him for a moment, hoping he would understand what she was asking of him.

“What exactly are you asking me for?” the good sheriff asked, a stern look on his face, dark brows drawn together tightly.

“I'm asking you to investigate. See if there's anything else we missed. There's a limit to what I can do, and I've already reached it.”, she looks him in the eyes heavily, there's a raw honesty in Miriam's voice. She doesn't seem happy to ask him to put himself in the line of fire, but she does anyway.

“Investigate, exactly what? Bev? The Recreation Center? City Hall and Mayor? My God, Miriam. Even St. Patrick?” Hassan shifts uncomfortably against the damp-swollen boards of the bench, his voice low, subdued, as he again traverses the surrounding area.

No intruders in sight.

He takes a deep breath, seeing the disgusted look traced on his companion's face.

“Did I ever tell you why I moved here?” he asks, turning a sideways glance at the blackened stain at the accountant's feet.

“No, I don't think so.” Miriam's voice trails off in response, tiredness digging into her words. She runs her fingers through her hair and pulls the shawl closer to her body, an uncomfortable feeling welling up in her chest.

“Didn’t tell anybody, now that I think about it.” A contemplative bitterness covers the sheriff's husky voice. He continues, his timbre taking on a dry tone. “It’s almost as if nobody asked.” He gestures with a strong hand briefly, then goes back to wrapping it around his biceps.

Suddenly, Miriam realizes that this will not be an easy conversation.

“You know, I was, um, 21 when the Towers went down.”, Hassan says, his voice getting lower and regretful. “Watched it on TV in my dorm room just weepin’” he continued, looking at the beaming faces of the children. “When I was a kid, I wasn’t religious at all, really. But I went to the mosque that day, because they had a blood drive, and the line went for blocks.” A flick of his strong wrist illustrated his speech.

Harper felt that initial embarrassment rise in her chest.

“I wanted to help. I wanted to protect this country.” Another wary look around and the sheriff continued, his disappointment reflected in the way his thick brows drew together. “So I moved to New York and enrolled in NYPD training. Now, some of my friends, they weren't happy.” A frown formed on his lips as Hassan shifted uncomfortably in the seat, glancing peripherally at the woman listening to him.

“‘The NYPD is against us,’ they’d say. But I’d tell them, 'No. You're wrong.'” A pause, a sigh, and the next breath of air brings with it the scent of lavender and cedar. “‘I’ll show them they don’t have to be afraid of us. I'll show them who we are.'’” Uncrossing his arms, Hassan sits more properly, now facing Miriam.

Harper couldn't look at him intently, so she stared at the small flaw he had in one eyebrow. She should have better considered what it would be like to ask for something of that scope from the good man who cooperated so much with her. She should have considered his position in that den of bigotry.

“So I worked my way up.” the sheriff gestured, his breathing steady but almost imperceptibly panting, exhausted. “You know, traffic, and translating and transcribing wiretaps, then Vice” He's gesturing with his brown hands, punctuating his words until he stops, looking away from her to his son.

“I get married. Ali is born, and I’m promoted again. Detective now.” Hassan turns his eyes heavy with weariness to the huddled figure beside him and sighs. “Top-Secret Security Clearance for the Joint Terrorism Task Force. I'm helping the FBI fight terrorists.” With another flick of his wrist he gestures, conviction in gesture and words.

“We’re taking collars. You know, petty stuff, pot, parking tickets and leaning on them hard if they’re Muslim.” There's disgust in his voice as he leans back in his seat. “‘You know, we’ll drop the charge, help you out. You go to the mosque and listen. ’” A sneer breaks out on his lips at the following words.

“I thought we were supposed to be fighting terrorists.” Another sigh, this time one of disappointment. “Not flipping some pothead student in Queens to spy on Americans.” Hassan clears his throat and takes a deep breath, his dark orbs flashing around again as a girl with blonde braids and flowers in her hands walks past them.

Miriam feels the need to say something, but bites her tongue, shifting uncomfortably in the seat, because she wouldn't know what to say. So she just takes a deep breath and wraps herself more tightly in her shawl, one hand snaking down to the damn beads. She looks away from watching a giggling Erin chatting with a withdrawn Riley to a depleted lawman beside her.

“So I complain. Gently…”, a male hand raises a single index finger, in a representative gesture, before the sheriff's deep voice completes. “One time.” Hassan has a palpable disappointment etched in his features. “Everything changed.” There was another pause, an indignant silence. “I was surveilled by other cops. I mean, they even had an official file on me.” Hassan took a deep breath, one hand running through his black hair that was starting to gray wearily.

“And not just me. See, like, after the Towers, Muslim officers were promoted fast. Especially if we knew the language, like, linguistic knowledge, cultural knowledge. We were very desirable for that.” The man's weary gaze focused on some uninteresting fixed point just at the accountant's feet. “But it started to occur to them, with so many of us on the force, elevated to positions of real authority, what if that had been our plan all along?” His normally serene expression twists into a frown.

“What if we were interlopers? What if we were infiltrators? What if we were double agents? And they fucking panicked.” The curse ran emphatically across the cop's bearded lips. “Internal Affairs was suddenly all over us. We were being followed. We’re being recorded. Civilians too. Surveilled at mosques, cafes.”

The entire situation described brought the bitterness of bile onto the accountant's tongue, and a shiver of discomfort unnerved her spine. Pike stood up, sitting up and leaning his big head against the woman's covered knee. Miriam ran her fingers over the animal's ears, staring straight ahead.

“And suddenly I’m out of plain clothes, and I’m back in uniform. Night shift, street beat.” There was an indignation that never left his words, the pain spiked in his tone. “And more and more, I realize that I've lost their trust.” Hassan shrugs wearily. “I roll with it. I keep my head high.” Harper watches the sheriff's bearded chin lift with pride.

“Dignity.” Hassan's voice is raw, bitter. Miriam looks up from the panting dog at her feet to look into the good sheriff's black eyes. There was something reflected in them, a pain, an agony, but also something she knew all too well, grief.

“Dignity is a word my wife uses.”, the good cop's gaze drops, for a moment he just stares at his own hands folded in his lap. “‘Show them dignity. ’” The pain of loss punctuates his words, and Harper feels something tighten in her chest. “And then she's diagnosed.” Hassan's voice drops, almost fails, and Miriam can't look him in the eye.

“And she's robbed of her dignity so fast.”, his words escape in the form of a pained whisper. “And then she’s gone. And I couldn't…”, his controlled tone breaks into something choked, packed with grief. “Ali and I get as far away as we can. And I find this gig. This little island.” Hassan takes a deep breath, lifting his dark eyes back to Miriam, and he realizes she's finally looking at him, a sad furrow marring her forehead.

“So sleepy, it could be dead. No elections, no staff. Just a tiny room at the back of a grocery store, and a bunch of fishermen without a notable incident of intentional violence in almost a century, and I beg for the post.” speech. “Dignity.” He punctuates the word in a firm voice. “Ali is bored to tears. But he's safe.” Looking around, he makes a small nod towards the smiling boy next to Ooker.

Harper straightens up and looks in the direction of young Ali Hassan. The boy was sweet and dedicated, he always carried a bright smile and an infinite desire to help and cooperate. He wanted to belong to that small community without realizing how bad it would do him, how much it would contaminate him. The accountant sighs, lowering her eyes and turning her melancholy orbs to the sheriff.

“And I still think I could maybe move the world that one millimeter. You know, maybe here’s where we make a difference. Not in the big city, but in this tiny village.”, the policeman gestures around, his tone low and controlled to avoid being heard over the music. “Win over the fucking PTA and call it a victory for Islam.”, impetuously he throws his hands up emphatically.

“So I don’t intimidate. I don't overshare or overstep or intrude in any way.” Hassan's tone is cautious, and Miriam knows there's nothing to argue about. So she resigns herself to scratching Pike's head and calming the anxiety. “Miriam, I don't even carry a gun.” He gestures vaguely to the empty holster on his belt, his expression softening for a slight second.

“And still…” he looks around, his tone even lower, before continuing. “Beverly Keane and a few others too look at me like I’m Osama bin-Fucking-Laden.” Miriam looks away once more and feels her cheeks burn with the disgrace of her request. “And you’d like me to investigate them?” it is a rhetorical question, she knows, and guiltily she drops her gaze to the floor, turning as he does, both of them, shoulder to shoulder.

Miriam bites the inside of her cheek and considers her friend's words.

“I'm sorry.”, she says in a low whisper, not meeting his eyes, her fingers playing with the black fur of the dog that was staring at her. “I will not insist that you do this. But I ask that you just consider nominating someone you trust to do this for you. Please.” She hears an exhausted sigh beside her and decides to add. “If it's still complicated, and I know it is, just keep your distance and if someone asks, say that I hired the person and that you didn't know anything, you know, blame the newly arrived and nosy accountant.” weak laugh that escapes the grieving policeman. “I guarantee everyone would believe it.”, Miriam shrugs, letting her eyes roam over the faces of the people around her.

Hassan turns to her from his seat on the bench, his pointed gaze fixed on the accountant's serious profile. When she realizes he's staring at her, she does the same to him, pure and absolute conviction in her features. The sheriff takes a deep breath in silent agreement.

“I think I might know someone, but I need to check if she's still available.” Hassan muttered, folding his hands in his lap. “Otherwise, there's nothing else I can do.”, the sheriff completes between one breath and the next, his dark eyes focusing on Joe's intoxicated figure.

“Thank you,” she murmured in a gentle tone, patting the officer's thigh reassuringly.

For a moment, most of the tension in Miriam's shoulders is gone, and both friends share a comfortable silence.

The sugary scent of candy floss, lavender, cedar, and sea air fills the young woman's nostrils, and she feels calm for a moment. She closes her eyes and absorbs the distant bass of the small band's music. A loud snore from Pike abruptly reminded her of where she was, and jointly awoke something else.

“And the cats? Any news?” Miriam asked suddenly, turning her head on the back of the seat and staring at Hassan's tired profile as he sighed.

“The vet mentioned something about an unusual thing at the autopsy.” He knits his brows together in an effort to remember exactly what it was. “According to him, it wasn't just the laceration that caused the death of all those cats, it looks like something drained the blood from the bodies, completely.”, the dark-bearded man makes a strange face as he says those words, almost as if it makes no sense put them together in a sentence.

A pair of glowing eyes flashes through Harper's mind. With a shake of her head, she pushes the dark memory to a corner of her mind. Taking a deep breath, she ignores a shiver that enervates up her spine and lays her head back on the back, her eyes turned to the mingled immensity of the celestial above.

“Well, at least that explains why there was no blood on the beach despite the biblical amount of bodies.”, she mutters with a frown, gesturing minimally around. The mere memory of the putrid stench of the bodies made her stomach churn.

“Speaking of the bible…” Hassan glances for a moment at the slender cleric approaching them. The sheriff is silently amused as he watches his company's posture stiffen in realization.

Harper takes a deep breath and watches the man of the cassock approach in the distance, he no longer wears the purple clause, but his typical set of boots, jeans, black button-down shirt and cardigan. The mere glimpse of his lush curly mane unnerved a flurry of butterflies beneath her skin.

“Are you staying here?” she asks the dark-haired sheriff in a low voice, her posture straight, her eyes never leaving the tall figure that stood out among the islanders. She blinked after a moment and saw him nod toward old Joe Collie and his glass that never seemed to be empty.

“Just a little longer. I want to make sure he doesn't see any giant-albatross chasing him again.”, he muttered, crossing his arms in a tighter posture with the cleric's proximity.

Miriam reacted to his comment with a noise close to a laugh and nodded in agreement as she stood up. A knowing look was all that ran between the two of them before the pastor's melodic voice filtered into their ears. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she watched the two men.

“Morning again, Sheriff.”, the priest waved one hand briefly at both of them while the other dangled hidden behind his back. His ebony eyes flicker briefly to the woman with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Miriam absorbed the awkward silence between the three of them, biting the inside of her cheek to contain her embarrassment. The good priest seemed to sense the uncomfortable silence he had unintentionally caused, and offered to correct it.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, I-” he started, taking a half step back. His rich tone was abruptly interrupted by Miriam's serene speech.

“Oh no. It's not interrupting, we're done.” She turned to Hassan and nodded. “Give me news about your friend.”, Miriam used her most worried tone, just in case she needed to elude some questions from the parish priest.

The black-haired sheriff nodded and ran a strong hand between Pike's furry ears, briefly losing interest in the interaction between the priest and the accountant.

“Want to go for a walk?” Paul asked, turning to the young woman, a hopeful glint in the dark pools of his eyes. She shrugged and whispered a 'sure', contained, a wave of heat rising up her neck.

Taking a few steps closer to the stocky man who was intently focusing on his drink, Harper asked:

“Joe, do you mind if I take Pike for a walk? He looks bored.”, she added with a smile, casting a gentle look at the animal, who promptly glanced at her upon hearing his name. Joe looked her up and down for less than a moment and nodded.

“Make yourself comfortable, he already got used to you.”, Joe shrugged, watching his canine friend trot towards the woman with childlike glee once she called out to him.

“Come on, Pike.”, she called to the big dog, who happily trotted towards her. Rising from her crouched position, Miriam casts a glance at those left behind and nods to the priest who was watching her with his hands behind his back.

Soon they began to walk shoulder to shoulder. Pike wagged his tail and made his diligent patrol a few steps ahead.

Paul looks at his companion's features for a long moment before taking a shallow breath and extending the hand he'd hidden behind his back toward her, unpretentiously, it took a minute for her to register the gesture. Between the preacher's long fingers is a flower. But not just any flower, it was a gardenia. Miriam wondered if he knew what each white petal of those meant. Secret love, how appropriate. She bit her lip to hold back her laughter.

She runs her fingers over the white petals and picks it up as if it were made of glass, a bubbling blush rushing to her cheeks as her fingers brush the bare tips of his.

“Why the flower?”, she asks, glancing at him before she can hold her tongue. Paul has both hands shoved in the pockets of those damn tight jeans as he shrugs and looks around, a serene look on his features. There's a tenderness in his dark eyes that blows tender heat into her throbbing chest as he looks at her.

“I don't know…” he says, a simple smile curving his well-designed cupid's bow. “A thanks. Maybe I just want you to feel comfortable with me,” he says casually, as if the gesture itself isn't short of priestly manners.

Miriam smiles slightly at the answer, but she can't help but tease him about it.

“Oh, and why is that, Father?” she asks, twirling the short, hairy stem of the flower between her fingers. Paul could feel the smile in her words, the slight teasing in her use of his title. The elder takes a moment to find his words.

“It's just… you usually seem so nervous, so overwhelmed…”, near me. He catches the words on his tongue before they leave his mouth, stubborn heat covering his face. Paul simply gestures with one hand for nothing in particular and goes back to hiding his hands in his pockets. “I just want to fix this.” He looks at her briefly, an expectant look well hidden in his eyes.

A nasal understanding noise escapes the woman, and she lets her eyes roam around her surroundings before responding in a restrained way.

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”, her tone is sweet and soft, like the hum of a bird, and it nurtures an unquestionable affability.

A simple smile curves the corners of Paul's lips as they stare at each other for a short moment, studying each other. Then immediately turn their eyes to the path in front of them.

The crackling of the still icy grass beneath their feet is continually drowned out by the laughter and excited voices all around. Miriam sinks into the sweet scent of the flower bud in her hands, a scent almost as intoxicating as his own. Thinking about it carries her to the disturbing moment when their bodies were pressed together in her kitchen. The way she could feel the heat of his skin even under his clothes. The way he tightly wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her from collapsing, how it felt a little too tight to be unintentional or meaningless. Harper felt herself almost shiver as she remembered how his thick black lashes had so seductively darkened those kind, half-closed eyes.

Her mind was pulled from its blasphemous spiral by the priest's rich tone as he waved to Melinda in her flower shop. Paul turned his attention back to her.

“…so, how are you feeling on your first crock pot luck?” he asks, a chaste smile painting his lips, a dark brow arched in curiosity. The good priest watches her huff a faint laugh as he lifts his head and looks up around.

“Well, it's your first one, too. I believe we both have to answer that. However, I suppose your response will be much more enthusiastic than mine.” This time there was a vague exhaustion bubbling under each word, but still she shot him a weak smile.

“Oh… having a bad day?” he asks in a compassionate tone, his features empathetic to the heralded difficulty. When Miriam glances at him for a second, he has his brows drawn together and his eyes squint at the sun, her mind crawling with images again, and she almost gasps.

“Not exactly, but I've received news that won't make my week any easier.”, the young woman blurts out in a weary murmur. She feels an uneasy bubble piercing her brain as her gaze rests on Bev's rigid, impertinent figure a few steps away.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Paul murmurs, his hand lightly stroking Miriam's back in a comforting way. The cleric feels his companionship shudder under his fingertips.

“Laws of the trade, I suppose,” she whispers, correcting her shallow breathing with a sigh. Her shrewd eyes fell on Beverly Keane's judgmental gaze, who glared repulsively at the diligent animal trotting between Paul and Harper. “Tell me, Father Paul, have you noticed something wrong with your books?” The question runs through the woman's lips once the deaconess is out of reach.

Paul stares at her confused for a moment, and runs a hand through his curls as he crumples to the floor. Miriam notices and stops her steps soon after, facing him.

“What do you mean?” the cloth man asks, tilting his head slightly and watching the accountant approach a few steps, so she doesn't need to speak above a whisper.

“Sorry, I should have been more specific.”, she stops staring at him for a moment. Miriam lets her free hand run along the back of her neck, the tips of her nails scratching her skin weakly as she scolds herself for not being clearer. “I mean, have you noticed anything wrong or weird with the church bills since you arrived?” the young woman rephrases her question, looking around slightly just in case Bev is lurking.

“To be honest, I don’t know, Bev always does the maths…”, the priest is dumbfounded at the perception of the frivolous suggestion of the question. Paul wonders what antics Bev was up to as he drowned in the dark. Certainly nothing good.

“If I may, Father, I believe you should look for yourself, just as a matter of conscience. If you find something wrong, I'd be very grateful if you let me know.” Harper watches in her peripheral vision as Pike circles some plant near the cemetery and relieves himself on it. She turns to look at him. “I'm facing some problems as an accountant. So many things wrong on such a small island…” she rambles, turning the gardenia in her fingers as if it were a hypnotic circle.

“I'll be more attentive, I promise.”, the black haired man forms, briefly touching the woman's forearm with his fingertips, triggering a shaky sigh from her. Forcing himself not to get caught up in that detail, Paul stares at the grass floor for a moment or two. “But why not ask Ms. Keane?” the good priest asks, his gaze still squinted against the blinding glare of the sun.

“Ah…”, she laughs, stepping to the side, making her way towards Pike. An almost bitter laugh escapes her as she tucked a strand of her flowing hair behind her ear. “I'm sure you've heard her opinion of me in her confessions.”, she comments when he places himself side by side with her again. Now it was his turn to laugh.

“I can't say, priest-confessor secrecy.” There is an air of laughter that covers his words as he responds, a sardonic smile on his lips. Paul watches Miriam nod grimly with dramatic seriousness, and it only makes him smile more.

“Um…sure…”, the young woman murmurs, enjoying the simple, comfortable intimacy between them.

Like it or not, the newspaper clipping she'd seen in the rectory from time to time crept into her mind, whether she was in the presence of the good clergyman or alone. Obviously, she'd already heard that ridiculous rumour that every person has at least seven doppelgangers around the world, but good God! She had never seen such a stark resemblance before. Every little mark or crease in his features reminded her of old Monsignor. The more Harper studied him, the more she had an almost dizzying certainty that the two men were somehow connected, almost like an intuition.

“You still have the weird habit of staring at people, don't you?”, Paul had caught her staring at him with his peripheral vision. Once again, she had that clinical, analysing look at him. She knows, get rid of her. The messenger's voice whispered in his mind, but he muffled the noise by focusing only on her.

“You really look like him,” the woman whispers, her intent eyes studying the priest's features. He felt a chill at the puzzled tone she used.

“Who?”, the priest pretended not to know who she was referring to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the mere possibility of her wondering who he really was. However, he always guarded himself so that fear didn't show on his features.

“Pruitt.”, she says as if it's absolutely obvious. There is a break. “If I hadn't been told he's about 100 years old, I'd say you're twins.”, Miriam shakes her head as she reads without much interest the writing at the entrance to the cemetery.

“He’s not that old, he’s more like he's eighty-year-old.”, he argues with a soft smile, a tiny pinch of offence in his voice.

“Sometimes I suppose he could be your father.”, she laughs at her bullshit, shaking her head, and he feels a shiver run down his spine. “You look ridiculously alike.” Harper looks at the good priest for a long moment after that. Paul is suddenly interested in a tombstone epigraph.

“Same person at different stages of life, maybe.” He blurts out his own mind a little too far away as he reads the name 'Alice Mary Pruitt' almost erased on the lichen-covered concrete. Miriam looks at him confused as he runs his long fingers over the headstone. Strange thing to say.

Suddenly, Paul seems to wake up from a dream. Back straight, he shoves his big hands in his pockets and starts walking out of the morbid, melancholy graveyard he knew so well. Once Miriam was close enough, he asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“I see you're close with Joe Collie.” There's a subtle suggestion beneath the words that he knows she won't miss. The good priest glances at her when he sees her sigh.

“I wouldn't say that, but I believe we're friends, somehow.”, she suggests with a shrug. The accountant's sly gaze looked him over from head to toe in an attempt to dig up his intentions.

“I think you should know that Flynn's oldest son, Riley, had a problem with alcohol,” the priest begins, his steps calculated to keep her close, as if he's telling a secret.

“Yes, I heard about something like that.”, the woman says. Of course, she knew about Riley's alcoholic issues, by God, she shared a house with Erin, it would be impossible for her not to know about what happened to poor, withdrawn Riley Flynn. However, she wouldn't make it so clear that she knew, not without first knowing the priest's agenda.

“Well, so he doesn't have to waste a whole day on a trip to the mainland. I volunteered to lead an AA here in Crockett,” the dark haired priest's rich voice begins. Even before all the words escape his lips, Harper already knows what he's going to ask for. She sighs. “I know I might be being invasive by asking you this, but you know it would do him good to go. I'm not asking you to tie him up and throw him in there with me. Just suggest it to him.”

Paul is subtle in his request. There is a chaste, compassionate tone to his words, one that would warm Miriam's cheeks if she weren't pondering the meaning of his words.

“You could do that yourself…”, the accountant counters, looking at the man in front of her with a tired look. She really wouldn't mind, but under the current circumstances, she's too exhausted to have this conversation with Joe.

“He doesn't know me, and besides, Joe Collie harbours a sharp contempt for much of the congregation. But not for you. Please, just try,” he argues, those damn puppy eyes pleading so gently. She releases a defeated sigh.

“Alright…”, there is a long pause in which they both look at each other, the cleric looks at her expectantly. “I can do that.”, the accountant confirms, running her slender fingers through her hair slightly messy from the wind and starts walking towards the fair. Before she takes another step, he wraps a warm hand around her wrist.

“There's one more thing I'd like to ask.” This time Miriam shows no reluctance, her rational brain too paralysed by the touch of him in her wrist to argue, she nods. “I wonder if you wouldn't like to show up at the rectory once in a while. Just to talk.”

Of all the things Paul Hill could say to her right now, this was certainly not what she expected. With a confused look and brows drawn together in uncertainty, she takes a step closer to the priest. His pianist's fingers tickling almost imperceptibly against the skin of her wrist almost made her gasp. With what's left of her self-control, Miriam stabilizes her shallow breathing.

“I feel like there's something bothering you,” he began in his rich, booming voice, making her shiver in her bones as he took a step closer to her. “I just want you to know that you can count on me if you need to talk. I really appreciate our conversations, and I think it would be good for you to unload what bothers you so much. Don't think I'm offering Catholic redemption, I'm not asking you to come to confession, that's not it.”, the man is silent for a moment, his mind working to give him the right words.

He still hasn't let go of her wrist. Paul can feel the heart beating of the woman's pulse against his fingertips, realizing it spreads an inconvenient heat at the base of his spine. Miriam felt the blood boil under her cheeks, she could almost feel every breather of his breath against her eyelashes.

“I just think you’re overworked. And I want you to know that you can count on a friend to vent to whenever things feel too… oppressive.” There is a long pause. The good priest runs his fingers from the woman's racing pulse to the palm of her trembling hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “What I'm offering is just a cup of tea and someone to talk to…” for the first time she really looks him deeply in the eyes, getting lost in those puddles of chocolate.

He has such kind eyes, she remembers thinking when she'd first seen him at church, nearly a week ago. It was still true, but now, after some time together, she could see beyond kindness. There was a darkness in those eyes, pain, guilt, grief, and so many other things she still couldn't name. Miriam wanted to touch him, touch his face, feel the warm skin under her fingers and hold him, until she drowned in those eyes and discovered every little secret hidden in them.

“Father Paul!”

Before she could even think of answering him, a voice called out to him in the distance, and he smiled at her one last time, hopefully. Slowly releasing her hand. The marks around his eyes turned that affable smile into something that made her knees tremble.

“No need to answer now. Just keep it in mind. See you soon, Miriam.” Father Paul said goodbye, and the way her name sounded melodic in his voice crumbled every little resilient nerve in her body, if it were humanly possible she would have turned into a puddle, right there in front of his feet.

Harper was silent for a long moment and felt her cheeks burn.

Pike's tearful bark brought her gaze back.

“Come on, boy, let's take you back to your dad.” Gently, she snapped her fingers a few times and considered making her way to the drinks stall, where a probably drunk Joe Collie was waiting.

However, she didn't move, scrutiny fixed on the cleric's slender figure while her mind could only ask her: Who is this man?

Taglist:

@stardustandgunpowder, @liesandghosts, @pruitts-tight-fucking-jeans, @un-kiss-the-breakfast, @girlwiththenegantattoo, @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade, @sterwild, @thegardenarcher, @snapessecretdiary, @judarspeach, @hungrhay, @midnight-mess, @ledzeppelindeanmon, @vivi-venus, @novywhere

If your name is striped, it’s because Tumblr don’t let me tag you for some reason. =(

Here's a Google form, where you can tell me where you want to be tagged.

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years ago

Text

hoax (Ch. 1) {Sirius Black x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› It started out as a simple bet: who could get the girl chosen for them first? After four years of half-hearted attempts, Sirius decides it’s time to make a concerted effort to win over the notoriously undateable Florence Saise.

WORD COUNT ››››› 4,100-ish

WARNINGS ››››› Pretty much every chapter is going to have mentions of sex. Including this one.

A/N ››››› I'm so thankful to every single person who responded to my incessant "does this line make sense?" or "can you read this to tell me what you think?" Without you guys this never would have been uploaded, and I'd never already have the start of a second chapter.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net | Read on AO3

Florence Saise was rather convinced that she was the only person not excited to find themselves back at Hogwarts. Everyone else seemed to be coping with the looming start of the school year just fine, if the laughter and shouts that greeted her as she flung open the carriage door was any indication. It was, by all accounts that mattered, (which is to say, hers) not fair.

The blonde haired girl jumped down from the horseless carriage, landing with a heavier thump than might have been expected from her small frame. Before her, masses of students cursed up the hill chattering to one another with smiles on their faces. Not one had the same little crease between their eyebrows that threatened to turn into a full-on scowl.

It was as if every single one of them had either forgotten the bullshit that came along with living amongst their peers or were still blissfully unaware of the curse that was adolescence. Even her friends, who hopped down out of the carriage behind her, seemed too entrenched in the debate that had stretched from the train compartment to the carriage, to fully register what being back at Hogwarts meant.

"You've been quiet, Lory, what do you think?" Marlene asked, throwing an arm around Florence's shoulder as the small group of girls joined the throng of students.

"If Sebastian doesn't know what to do with his tongue when kissing, there's not much hope for him using it elsewhere. You'd do better with Roger."

"Aha!" Marlene cried out triumphantly, pointing a finger at Mary. "That makes it two for Roger, one for Sebastian, and one for giving up on boys all together," she tallied as Florence shrugged out from under her arm. Lily appeared on Florence's other side, trapping Florence in the middle of the group.

"You can't just use physical stuff as the metric for whether or not a relationship will be any good," Lily asserted. "There's more to dating than snogging and sex."

"Says the person who's never properly snogged anyone," Marlene stage whispered to Mary.

"Exactly," Lily said, perhaps a little too passionately. "And look how fulfilled I am."

Marlene shot Florence a skeptical look, and Lily reached across her to smack at Marlene's arm. This started another round of fierce debating, Lily reminding Mary that Sebastian had written her once a week all summer whereas Roger had only written four times, Marlene reminding Mary that she didn't want to die a virgin, and Dorcas reminding Mary that she never had any of these problems with her girlfriends.

Florence felt a dull needling, like a knuckle digging into the side of her head. At this rate, she was going to have a headache before they even reached the castle.

The Gryffindor strode ahead of the group, near enough that she wouldn't catch any flack for abandoning them but far enough that she could more easily drown out their bickering. She would give anything for just a single moment of peace today. Between her father and brother waking her up with their argument to Lily and Marlene's stupid battle over who Mary should date, all Florence wanted was ten minutes where she didn't get roped into playing referee.

But as she looked up ahead on the path, her eyes landing on James Potter and his crew, it seemed like peace was not in the cards for her today.

The group of boys were laughing amongst each other as they subtly enchanted trees to tap students on the shoulder or grab an unsuspecting second year. It was, objectively speaking, rather funny to witness the reactions of their various victims. One boy let out a startled shriek so loud, Florence would have expected it to come from a banshee. Another girl was attempting to fight off a branch that kept pulling at her plait. The problem with Potter and them's joke was not so much the unrest it caused amongst the students ahead of Florence.

The problem was Lily.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lily sighed, cutting Marlene off mid sentence. "What's even the point in making Remus a prefect if he's going to let his friends get away with everything?"

Before any of the girls had a chance to talk Lily down, the prefect marched up the hill with impressive speed, her hair billowing behind her.

"I am not missing this," Marlene said eagerly, grabbing Mary by the hand and tugging her up the hill with her. Dorcas and Florence shared a look and a sigh, before following them after Lily.

"Potter!" Lily shouted, and the group of boys came to an abrupt stop, nearly causing the group of Ravenclaws behind them to collide with their backs.

"Ah the dulcet tones of Lily Evans," James Potter said as he turned around to face the fuming redhead, a smirk set firmly in place.

Lily pulled up right in front of him, chest heaving from her quick trip up the hill. "You are to stop using magic at once or else I'll be forced to give you detention."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Potter said, tilting his head and allowing confusion to overtake his features. Lily's scowl deepened, clearly not buying the act. "I think you and I are both aware that it's against the rules to use magic before term starts, and we're not even at the castle yet."

Behind him, Pettigrew and Black snickered. The sound seemed to bolster James Potter's already rampant egotism as the smirk returned once more to his face.

"Unless of course, you're saying that I've enchanted you. Do you find me bewitching, Evans?" Potter asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"I think I've made it quite clear what I think of you, James Potter," Lily snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "10 points from Gryffindor."

"Ah, Evans," Potter tsked, as if regretting the fact that he would have to share bad news with her. "Prefects can't take points until the start of term. Learned that fourth year," he added on, dropping the sympathetic act.

Marlene nudged Florence with her elbow and held out her hand expectantly. Florence's eyes moved from the open palm to her friend's gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe you owe me a hundred galleons," Marlene informed her, a smile tugging at her lips even as she fought to remain serious. "As James Potter has just confirmed that he has, in fact, learned something in his past five years here."

"That doesn't count," Florence said dryly, slapping Marlene's palm down even as Marlene grinned at her winningly. The stare off between a seething Lily and smug James was looking very much like it was about to end in a murder. Remus Lupin must have also caught onto this because he shook his head and finally stepped forward.

"Come on, let's at least make it to the castle this year before you and Lily have a row," he appealed, making a half-decent attempt at Prefect-like behavior.

Potter turned to his friend with a magnanimous smile. "Since you asked so kindly, Moony," Potter paused, shooting Lily a look. "I'll make sure there is no more confusion about whether or not we might have been doing magic. Watch carefully, Evans. I'm putting my wand in my back pocket. Feel free to track its progress up the hill," he added with a wink.

Lily let out a disgusted noise as Marlene snorted, and Potter turned to continue back up the hill with his friends, Sirius Black playfully pushing him as he rejoined the group.

"What a wanker," Lily murmured, watching the boys go.

"Maybe, but he's looking well fit," Marlene noted, taking Potter up on his offer to make sure his wand stayed in his back pocket. "You could do a lot worse than James Potter."

Lily whirled on Marlene, emitting a scandalized, " Marlene! "

The dark haired girl laughed and shook her head. "Oh come off it, Lils, he's smart, funny, attractive, all of which is important to you, and," she looked around before leaning forward conspiratorially. "I've heard his wandwork isn't the only magical thing he can do with his hands." Marlene wiggled her fingers at Lily, who pulled back looking so pale that for a moment, Florence thought she might actually be sick.

Which was far too hilarious not to laugh at. So she did, earning a dark look from Lily and a shiteating grin from Marlene.

Lily rounded back on Marlene before shaking her head and starting back up to the castle. "He's not funny; he's cruel. And he's only half as smart as he thinks he is."

"So you agree he's attractive?" Marlene asked, raising an eyebrow, and Lily's face turned bright red before she managed to sputter out a:

"Looks don't mean anything!"

"She's right," Dorcas added. Contributing to the conversation for the first time with the decisiveness that the girls had come to expect from her. "Looks don't mean anything. But being good with his hands, well…"

Lily emitted a strangled sound somewhere between disbelief and mild outrage as the rest of her friends laughed at her and moved past on their way to the castle. A small feeling in Florence's chest loosened as she walked with them, the conversation alternating between teasing Lily and debating between Roger and Sebastian. Maybe this year wouldn't be quite as bad as the past five.

Naturally, the hope of a better year was squashed the very next day.

This, of course, should have been expected. After all, the first day of classes was primarily meant for overloading students with work they weren't yet prepared for and reminding them that their very futures depended on the mastery of the material. However, those spiels were not the giveaway that this year would be more or less the same in terms of teenage bullshit as the years prior. What it really came down to was her Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

The death of her hope began the moment she walked into the classroom and was faced with an obscenely tall and lanky man, dressed in a smart tweed suit with his chin length hair tucked behind his ears. A name was written in halting cursive on the chalkboard behind him.

Oleander Fernsby.

It was a ridiculous name for what was, by all indicators, a ridiculous man.

Although, as Florence watched the way his eyes darted around the classroom, shooting away every time a student got too close to making eye contact, she began to think that perhaps ridiculous was the wrong word. It suggested a certain confidence that this man in front of her was severely lacking.

It was painful to watch really, seeing him hoist the corners of his mouth up just to seem to lose his grip and have the smile come crashing down again. Both of his hands were shoved into his pants pockets, the right one fiddling with something it found in there so that the pocket almost seemed to flutter with his nervous energy. Even as she sat down next to Marlene, Florence couldn't take her eyes off of this clear disaster waiting to happen.

"This is going to be interesting," Marlene noted with raised eyebrows as she tapped her quill tip on the desk. "Reckon he'll make it the whole year?"

"Reckon he'll make it to the end of the month?" Florence returned, and Marlene snorted.

The last of the students shuffled into the room, claiming desks next to their friends and casting skeptical looks up at the unusual choice for professor. Even Remus Lupin looked unsure about Dumbledore's choice as he sat with eyebrows raised and a slight frown on his face.

The professor cleared his throat, which was completely ineffective when it came to quelling the murmurings of students sizing him up.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice dipping down into a mumble on the last syllable. As could be expected, the class' attention remained on their own conversations.

" Merlin's beard," Dorcas muttered under her breath from behind Florence. The professor furrowed his brow, a look of resolve on his face before trying again.

"Good morning." He had added a bit of volume and force assertiveness to his voice, but it wasn't until Potter hit Black on the shoulder and gestured with his head to the professor that the talking in the room tapered off. Faced with a room of quiet students, he succeeded in finally managing a weak smile.

"Good morning," he repeated, his voice soft but steady at least. "I'm Professor Fernsby, and I'll be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

It was hard to imagine this particular wizard ever standing up against the dark arts. He looked like he could hardly manage a boggart let alone a hag or Lethifold. Even faced with a room full of bored teenagers, he was crumbling under the pressure. Across the room Peter Pettigrew snickered, and Fernsby's expression faltered.

"I know that I am a new face here, and you've had five other professors, but I hope that together we'll have a good year this year and learn a lot."

Florence snorted and either Lily or Dorcas (probably Lily) jabbed a finger into her back in scolding.

Fernsby's smile flickered, and he paused. "Erm, yes. I know that this is your second class of the day, and it's early. The first years were all practically asleep at their desks this morning, but this is an NEWT-level class, so we will be covering rather complicated and dark material--oh! Yes, you there," Fernsby said, gesturing towards a student in the back. Florence turned, watching as Cassius Avery lowered his hand, a self-satisfied smirk already twisting at his lips.

"Can you explain what you mean by 'dark,' professor?"

The classroom went so still even Fernsby seemed to notice, his pocket fluttering once more.

"Well, we'll learn about the Unforgivable Curses. How to battle Inferi--"

"Will we be learning more about the Dark Arts themselves?" Avery interrupted, tilting back his chair so that it leaned against Thaddeus Nott's desk.

Fernsby's eyes flicked around the classroom as if looking for help from one of the students, but everyone remained still and quiet, watching to see what would happen. Florence set her jaw as she looked back at Avery who was looking rather smug. Beside him there was a glint in Thomas Mulciber's eye as if he were watching an animal fall into a trap. "I'm not sure that would be entirely appropriate--" Fernsby started.

"I was just thinking that we should know how the Dark Arts work and such so we can properly defend ourselves?" Avery clarified and beside him Mulciber smirked. Florence's hand curled into a fist on her desk. "I mean, you want us to be prepared, don't you, professor? We need to know--"

"Avery you smarmy little git, would you shut up?" Florence snapped, and the eyes of the class shot over to her. But she was just looking at Avery whose eyes flashed angrily. "Even he's not thick enough to teach you how to curse someone. Go ask your dad. Or is he too busy shagging his cousin--I'm sorry, your mum."

There was a beat of silence as the whole class seemed to collectively hold its breath before across the room, Sirius Black broke out into a loud barking laughter, muffling whatever Avery snarled at Florence.

"Pardon?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, and though he opened his mouth to say it again, it wasn't Avery's voice, but Fernsby's she heard next.

"That is--that is quite enough," the professor finally interjected, and Florence turned around, ready for her detention or points to be docked, but as Fernsby's eyes landed on her and she met them with a fierce unrepentance, he wet his lips and moved on.

"Merlin's beard," Marlene whispered to Florence. "Been holding onto that for a while, haven't you?"

"After what he and Mulciber did last year to Mary, he's lucky I haven't set him on fire," Florence mumbled. "Last thing we need is that lot learning about the Dark Arts so they can practice on muggleborns."

Marlene nodded her agreement, and the two focused back on Fernsby who was presently taking attendance.

Class continued and with it the growing feeling that someone was attempting to stare daggers into the back of her head. When she finally turned with a raised eyebrow, she found that not only was Avery glaring at her, but Mulciber and Nott had also joined in their friend's effort. She gave the three of them the most saccharine smile she could muster and lifted a middle finger towards them. When she turned back to Fernsby, he was in the middle of listing his credentials and previous places of employment..

He had just finished on how formative his time in the Azkaban processing unit was when James Potter began to loudly pack up his bag. "And erm..." Professor Fernsby stopped, watching as Potter corked his inkwell and dropped it into his bag. "Mr….Potter was it?"

Potter looked up, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," he said, his face genuinely apologetic. "I thought you were about done."

"Done?" Fernsby asked. While the word might have cracked like a whip from McGonagall or Kettleburn, instead it came out rather helpless as he looked appealingly to Potter for an explanation.

"It's just that usually professors keep class short the first. To get us acclimated to the school schedule again, you know."

Fernsby said nothing, looking out over the class to see nods of assent. Even Dorcas kept quiet.

"He's right," Marlene said from next to her, and Florence's attention whipped to her friend. "Although usually they make us stay at least half the block," she added with a reproachful look to James.

"Ah, well, I suppose here is as good a place to stop as any," Professor Fernsby said. "Come ready to learn, as I will be picking up the pace as the year progresses."

He seemed rather proud of himself, Florence thought as she along with her classmates scurried to pack up their books before anyone could possibly grow a guilty conscience. He probably thought the early dismissal was a sign of kindness and not what it really was: blood in the water.

Shouldering her bag, Florence headed out behind Lily and Dorcas into the hallway.

"We're not going to learn anything all year," Dorcas moaned, tossing her head back to stare miserably at the ceiling.

"It's going to be an easy O at least," Lily sighed. "And besides, next year it'll be someone new. Maybe they'll be able to catch us up."

Dorcas wilted a little, head coming back down to face forward with a pout tugging down her lips. "I suppose."

Marlene looked disbelievingly at the group. "Are we really not going to talk about Avery?"

"Do we have to?" Mary asked with a shudder. "He's so creepy. "

"That whole group is destined for Azkaban," Lily murmured, shaking her head.

"Not if Lory gets to them first," Marlene countered, smirking.

Florence shrugged, "I already told you I didn't think Fernsby had the backbone to tell him no."

"Right, but going after his dad like that?" Marlene pressed, raising her eyebrows at Florence as if to prompt an explanation.

"Everyone knows the Sacred Twenty-Eight's inbred," a voice drawled from behind the group. Lily rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh through her nose as Potter, Black, Remus, and Pettigrew interspersed themselves amongst the girls. "After all, you're looking at someone whose father shagged his cousin. Thankfully all of the negative effects of my parents' decision to procreate saved themselves for Regulus. Florence snorted at this, and Marlene barked out a laugh. Even Lily's lips quirked up into a reluctant half smile. "I have to say, Saise, that was a thing of sheer beauty in there. I think I might have even fallen in love with you a little," Black grinned.

Florence rolled her eyes and shook her head, even as the grin stayed on her lips. "I hope you're prepared for heartbreak then. Pettigrew, I'd start collecting chocolate frogs now, he's going to need them."

A quick confusion crossed Pettigrew's face as he darted a glance at Black, as if to ask if Florence was serious. But his friend was too busy throwing a hand over his heart and staggering back as if wounded.

"Should I get some chocolate frogs too, Evans? Or are you planning on sparing my heart this year?" Potter asked, grinning winsomely at Lily.

She gave him a tight lipped grin back, tilting her head towards him. "You should get as many as you can and stick them in your bag. That way, every time you have even the faintest impulse to ask me out, you can take one out and shove it in your mouth to save us both the trouble."

With that, Lily brushed her hair over her shoulder and moved forward to link arms with Florence, turning them both around to march down the hallway and away from their heartbroken boys.

"I think there was progress," James said, piling potatoes onto his plate once the boys had sat down for lunch. The past forty-five minutes that they should have spent in Defense Against the Dark Arts had been devoted instead to James' eternal pining over Lily Evans. "She didn't call me any names."

"Didn't need to, mate," Sirius said, snagging the serving spoon from James. "Her face and tone of voice largely did that for her."

"Yeah? What'd it say?" James asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Sirius spoon potatoes next to his sausage.

Sirius straightened up in his seat, pointing the spoon at James. "It said, James Potter, you are a complete tosser," he said, mimicking Lily's high voice, much to the amusement of both Remus and Peter.

James looked down the table to where Lily tossed her head back laughing at something Mary Macdonald said. The lack of outright animosity had been progress, but she still didn't look at him with even a fraction of the warmth she gave to everyone else. Lily caught sight of him and the smile slid from her face, settling into a look of pure disdain before she turned back to her friends and said something that made Marlene McKinnon almost spit out her pumpkin juice.

"Well at least I can say I'm trying," James protested, turning back to face Sirius.

"Trying what? To get Lily Evans to hex your arse halfway 'cross the country?" Sirius asked. "Because that is about the only thing you're set to succeed at with her."

James scoffed before growing serious. "I'm trying to win the bet."

Sirius raised his eyebrows at his best friend, and even Peter seemed to have checked back in to the conversation. Remus however let out a groan and set down the book he'd been reading so he didn't have to listen to James going on about Lily. "I thought you two had given that up."

"It was just on hiatus for a while," Sirius dismissed, picking up his fork to dig into his lunch. "Because unlike Prongs, I don't have to spend years just to get Saise to tolerate being in the same room as me."

"And yet," James said, picking up his own fork. "You still haven't won."

"Well, I've been a bit too busy with other matters to be worried much about the birds?"

"Like what?" Remus asked, picking his book back up.

"Largely, being the family disappointment," Sirius remarked with some finality as he bit into his sausage.

James just laughed at this. "Please, you have about as much interest in dating as Saise does. One of you is going to call it quotes before you can even go public--let alone last two weeks."

"All I'm saying is that at least Saise doesn't actively detest the very sight of me," Sirius shrugged, taking another bite of his food.

"I'm making progress."

"Of course you are, mate," Sirius nodded, navigating the words around the mouthful of food.

James shook his head at Sirius, "Padfoot, when it comes right down to it , I don't even think you could get Saise out of her knickers, let alone date you."

Sirius scoffed. "Everyone can get her out of her knickers. Everyone practically has gotten Saise out of her knickers."

Remus looked up from his book, a frown tugging at his features. "That's an ugly thing to say Sirius," he scolded, but Sirius looked completely unrepentant.

"It's not like it's a secret that practically our entire year has shagged Florence. Everyone knows what she's like," Peter shrugged.

"Exactly. Thank you, Wormtail," Sirius said. "But if you're so certain I can't do it, Prongs, then you'd have no problem making a little add on to our bet. Right?"

"No problem at all," James said, smugly.

"Great," Sirius said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Let's talk terms."

#sirius black #sirius black x oc #sirius black x f!oc #sirius black fic #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #hp #harry potter fic #marauders oc #marauders fic #ship: florius #oc: florence saise #series: hoax #Marauders #marauders fanfiction

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

Text

A Light From the Shadows Chapter 3- We Always Keep Going, or The One Where Shit Goes Down. Literally.

A.N: Indecision strikes again in the form of me honestly not being able to pick a title for this chapter- so I picked two! Also- I won’t be able to post fics (b/c no access to AO3 or Google Drive) tomorrow or Sunday, which is why this is being posted today. This is the first chapter, and honestly the first thing I've written in so long that I like and am actually proud of. I feel like I might be getting back into the writing groove? Fingers crossed! But, seriously, thank you all for the love and support of this fic. I am so happy you like it <3. Also i’m very excited for your reactions to the canon characters showing up…

Warning: Blood, Angst

A Light From the Shadows Masterlist

Read on Wattpad and AO3

*******

The faint grey light of the moon filtered down into the cell from a small crack in the stone ceiling, barely illuminating Aeri’s face. It cast a shadow across her hands and set the vaguely familiar face of the elf passed out in the cell next to her aglow.

Aeri lay on the cold stone floor, hands and feet still bound. Her fingers flexed as she tried to get some blood flowing to her arms. She’d been in the same position for a very long time- it was so dark that she could not tell exactly how long had passed since Rhugar had dumped the body in the cell next door.

“Where am I?” a weak voice asked.

Aeri started. She turned her head and saw the other elf clinging to the bars separating them, even more, familiar with her eyes open.

She looked so scared, terror illuminating her face just as the moon had moments before.

“Please tell me. Where am I?” She clutched at the bars desperately.

Aeri shifted, trying to move closer. “You’re in Dol Guldur.”

The elf looked horrified. “Really?”

Aeri nodded, and she could see the despair crashing over the elf’s face. She tried to think of a way to distract her.

“Who are you?”

The elf looked away, “I don’t know if I can tell you that.”

Aeri sighed. “Fine. Will it help if I tell you my name first?”

She didn’t respond, so Aeri continued.

“I’m Aerinithil.”

The elf’s spine straightened, eyes widening in shock. “Really?”

Aeri couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’d know my own name. But how do you know it?”

“You’re Calenglîn’s daughter! The one she had with that human.”

Aeri grew wary. “How do you know my mother?”

The elf had a faint smile on her face, reminiscing. “We were best friends, inseparable until she left with Eddard.”

And then Aeri realized where she’d seen her before.

“...Celebrían?”

The elf nodded. And then passed out.

Aeri scrambled over to her, chains clanking against the rock-solid floor as she crashed into the bars separating them.

“Celebrían!!! Celebrían! Please wake up, please, please, please…”

Aeri trailed off. She’d been shaking Celebrían through the bars and rolled the elf over to see blood spilling through her dress, pooling on the floor underneath her. Aeri parted the fabric at the source, on the left side of Celebrían’s abdomen, and saw a stab wound, bleeding and so clearly infected Aeri was sure the blade that had done it had been poisoned.

“Oh no, no no no no no,” Aeri muttered, scrambling for something to stop the bleeding. She looked down at herself, the ragged hem of her tunic. Quickly, she tore it off and tried to wrap it around Celebrían through the bars of the cell. She succeeded, getting the fabric over Celebrían’s wound and tied it, contorting her arms through the bars.

Aeri heard padding footsteps, the ones that she now recognized as belonging to Rhugar, and panicked. Celebrían was passed out, possibly dying, because of a clearly poisoned stab wound in her side, and Aeri was sure that Rhugar would only make it worse. She had to do something. And she had to do it now.

Aeri knew that the one thing that could help her now was the thing she was terrified to do- at some point when she was bleeding, broken on the floor, something had seeped into her. A shadow. She’d spent the time in this cell learning its language, and now she called them all, whispering, muttering to the very things that had once sought to destroy her.

And they came.

Darkness spread across the cell as Aeri’s hands moved, directing the shadows to cover each wall and crack and crevice until there was no light at all. Aeri realized that she could sense shapes in the darkness- she could feel Celebrían’s hair like it was brushing against her hand instead of attached to the elf’s head a foot away. She was aware of everything happening in the pool of shadow she had created that spanned the two cells.

She sent shadows worming into the manacles on her ankles and wrists, worming their way into the very heart of the metal, and then the darkness expanded, corrupting the metal until it collapsed off of her wrists. She did the same to those shackling Celebrían, heard the clink of the broken shackles on the floor once the shadows had done their work, and called them back to her.

Aeri heard Rhugar drawing closer and closer to the cell, and drew back the shadows so that there was a small circle of light around her and Celebrían, but darkness still separated them from the doorways to both cells.

Rhugar opened the cell door and saw nothing but darkness. The entire cell was just pitch-black- he’d been able to at least see his hand in front of his face when he’d been in here before. But this was different. There wasn’t a little light that made it easier to bear- this was the total absence of light.

“Aerinithil…” Rhugar entered the cell, unsheathing his sword as he moved, trying to find his niece.

Aeri crouched, waiting in the pool of light she’d left for herself and Celebrían. She could feel where Rhugar was in the cell and felt it as he drew closer and closer. Just as she sensed him about to emerge from the dark, she put her hands behind her back.

Rhugar stepped forward, emerging into the light. He threw up a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.

Aeri watched him, waiting for him to look down and notice him. He blinked, trying to adjust to the light and when he looked at her he grinned.

“Ah. There you are,” he drew closer, “but what’s going on with our friend over there?” He gestured to Celebrían.

Aeri waited as Rhugar padded over to the bars separating them from the elf. Her hands twitched behind her back, flexing.

“Where are her chains, Aerinithil?” His voice had a dangerous edge.

Rhugar turned to look at his niece once more, and Aeri took a deep breath.

She raised her hands, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

It took him a second to notice the lack of manacles on her as well, but when he did, the expression on his face was almost comical. Until it became twisted, wrong, his face echoing the evil in his eyes.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Aeri raised her unshackled hands. “I learned.”

She brought them together and the darkness rushed in around them, shadows racing forward at her call to bind Rhugar’s wrists and ankles the way he’d bound hers, forcing him down until he was kneeling at her feet.

“Farewell, Uncle,” she told him, and then punched him in the face. Rhugar collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, and Aeri limped past him.

She left her cell and approached the still-locked door of the one next to it. Twisting her hand, she called a shadow and directed into the metal of the lock, corrupting it until it fell apart. She shoved the door open, wincing at the shriek of metal against stone, and saw Celebrían laying on the floor. Aeri rushed over to the elf, kneeling beside her and trying to shake her awake, careful not to touch her wound.

“Celebrían, please, wake up, please wake up.”

Celebrían’s eyes opened. “Aerinithil?”

Aeri nodded, blinking back tears of relief. “Yes, yes, it’s me. Can you stand? We have to go!”

Celebrían winced. “I do not know if I have the strength.”

“You have to.”

Aeri heaved Celebrían to her feet, apologizing as the elf cried out in pain. She slung Celebrían’s arm over her shoulders, supporting her, and they walked out the door together, both limping, Celebrían hanging on to Aeri like her life depended on it.

They made their way down the hall slowly, cautious of any enemies waiting around the corner.

“Do you know the way out?”

Celebrían shook her head.

Aeri sighed, “Me neither. Guess we’ll find out,” and they limped on.

A ways down the hall, an orc rounded the corner in front of them, stopping short at the sight.

“How did you get out of your cells?”

Aeri shrugged Celebrían’s arm off her shoulder, leaving the elf leaning against the wall. She sprang forward and knocked the orc unconscious, much like she’d done to her uncle only a while earlier, and then grabbed Celebrían once more.

They hobbled through the halls together, every time they saw an enemy Aeri would knock it unconscious. Until there were too many.

A horde of orcs was chasing them as they limped as fast as they could through the cold stone hallways, bare feet hurting on the rough floor.

Aeri released Celebrían once again and turned to face them all as they rushed towards her.

She raised her arms, flexing her hands and twisting her fingers

Celebrían looked up at Aeri. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing it all down.”

Elladan sat astride his horse, racing towards the fortress of Dol Guldur alongside his brother. They’d been tracking the orcs that had kidnapped their mother for weeks and were finally closing in.

“Brother!” came a shout from next to him, “Look!”

Elladan looked. The fortress was starting to shake, a rumble sounding through the air. He stopped his horse.

“Should we keep going?”

“Our mother is in there,” Elrohir told him, “We always keep going.”

Elladan spurred his horse after his brother and kept going.

Several minutes later, the twins stopped short in horror. A cloud of darkness was rising from the fortress, filling the sky and casting shadows on the surrounding land. It billowed up and up in waves, blanketing the forest as it spread.

“What do we do?” Elrohir asked.

Elladan held up a hand, “What is that?” and peered into the darkness.

A person, a young woman, was racing towards them at the front of the darkness, another woman cradled in her arms.

Aeri sprinted at the front of the shadows she had summoned, the darkness following at her heels as she ran. Celebrían was cradled in her arms, muttering and groaning as Aeri moved, trying her hardest not to jolt her friend.

She saw two figures astride horses waiting on the path ahead, and slowed for a moment. She could tell they were elves, but after Rhugar’s betrayal, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. And then she drew closer and saw the same features of the elf in her arms in their faces. Aeri knew that Celebrían had twin sons, and these must be them. She started sprinting again.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she was managing to carry her friend, as well as keep up the darkness that was currently tearing the fortress apart. She thought it might be adrenaline. But she was thankful for the extra energy as she heard the thunderous noises of the fortress crumbling behind her.

Aeri approached the twins, slowing as she reached them.

Elrohir watched this mysterious woman approach them. She had ears like an elf’s but there was something about her that assured him that she wasn’t, or at least not entirely so. He could see the elf she had cradled in his arms, see that it was-

“Emmë?” Elladan whispered.

Elrohir slid off his horse, walking towards the girl that held their mother.

“Who are you?” He whispered as he got closer.

Through the dust and grime covering her face, he saw a faint smile as she spoke. “A friend.”

Elladan walked up behind his brother. “Thank you for bringing her.”

The girl nodded. “Of course. She has a poisoned wound, so get her to a healer soon.’

“Thank you again,” said Elrohir.

She nodded. “Take care of her,” said the not-quite-an-elf-that-had-pointy-ears, and then she strode into the forest, alone.

Later, Aeri sat on a branch high in an old oak, looking out over the forest. Dol Guldur still dominated the landscape, but it looked much different. Instead of the commanding fortress it had been that morning, it was a crumbling pile of rubble. She couldn’t believe that she had done that.

Holding up her hand, she let a shadow wind around it, wrapping around her right-hand thumb like a ring, shaking. This new power, controlling darkness, was terrifying. She’d brought down a fortress with it in a matter of minutes- who knew what else she’d do? But something inside her called for more- it wanted to be set free, shown to the world in an even greater display than what she’d just done.

Rhugar hauled himself up onto the wall, wincing. He’d been knocked unconscious by that awful niece of his, and just as he’d come to the ceiling had crashed down around him. Small scrapes and bruises covered every part of his body. His head was throbbing, and he reached up to wipe at his face. His hand came away red with blood, and as the pain grew he realized he had a large cut on his face. He grimaced as he stood, surveying the land around him. He was at the top of the ruins now, having spent a long time hauling himself up, and could see for miles. He could also clearly see that Dol Guldur, his base, was completely destroyed. His master would not be pleased, but that would not matter. Dol Guldur could be used whether ruined or not.

Rhugar took a deep breath and began the descent.

Aeri didn’t know whether Rhugar had survived. As much as she wanted him to be gone, some part of her still thought of him as family, remembered the uncle that he once was. But she knew he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been that person for a long time. Something had reached into the inner depths of his soul and turned them rotten.

She climbed down the tree and limped off into the woods, in the direction of the home that, after the deaths of her parents, only she knew about. The safehouse hidden in the far north, above even Erebor, that she hadn’t been to for years. She began planning- how she’d get supplies to withstand the long journey north, acquiring a horse, and how to wipe out the blight known as the servants and master of Mordor off Middle-Earth, once and for all.

Aeri had no clue why the shadows had chosen her, but she knew she’d try to do better with them than Rhugar had done with the darkness inside himself.

*******

A.N: WHAT DO YOU THINK?!?! I’m honestly so excited to hear your thoughts on this!! What do you think of the canon characters appearing? I loved getting to include Celebrían, even if I did have to make a minor tweak to canon to include her (but it was very minor). and what do you think of Aeri’s powers?

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

ALFTS tag: @lothloriien @laurfilijames @cassiabaggins @claraofthepen @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse

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fritae · 4 years ago

Text

The Missing Piece (Chapter 7)

Boundaries 💫

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x female oc, lov

status: ongoing

read this story on ao3

---

Dabi decides on an open-air Italian restaurant.

Before we could take our seats, I excuse myself.

His brows furrow. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I assure him. "I just need to use the bathroom."

Dabi nods.

But as soon as he's out of sight, I call for the waitress from near the entrance. The woman pleasantly smiles as she comes over.

"Hi, how can I help you today?"

"One second please," I say as I dig through my wallet. "I'm from table 6. Could you charge my card when we're done?"

She makes note of that and puts the pen in her apron. "Of course, miss."

I smile as my fingers find the blue Visa card.

But just as I'm about to hand it to her, I feel someone grab my arm.

My eyes widen.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dabi's eyes narrow.

"What?" I say. "I'm just giving her my card."

"I know. Who said you could do that?"

I pull my arm from his grip. "I don't need permission."

Dabi frowns and stands between us. "I'm the one that asked you for dinner."

I avert his gaze, feeling small under his eyes. "Okay, and? I want to pay."

"Rina-"

"Come on, don't argue with me on this. You bought coffee last time. It's my turn. Besides," I say with a small smile. "I just got my first paycheck. I want to celebrate."

Not to mention that it's thanks to him that I still have a paycheck!

Dabi sighs. "That's why we're at dinner. Who spends their first paycheck on their boss?"

"I'm not spending it on my boss," I correct. "I'm spending it on my friend."

Dabi's eyes widen for a moment, but the look on his face is gone just as fast.

He puts his hands in his pockets and rolls his eyes. "You sure you wanna spend your first paycheck on me?"

A grin spreads across my face. I reach over him and hand the waitress my card.

"Absolutely positive."

---

"How'd you even know where I went?" I ask him as we make our way back to the table.

"You looked like you were up to something."

I smile.

Of course.

Dabi's worked with hundreds of people over the years. He told me he was good at reading people before, but I didn't know how good.

Or maybe I've never gotten close enough to anyone to feel so seen.

He rolls up his sleeves when the food arrives. My heart warms as he puts the appetizers in front of me.

"Hey," I tease him. "Just because I'm paying doesn't mean you should eat less."

Dabi scoffs. "Who said I'm eating less? I'm going to make you regret paying," There's a devilish grin on his face as he says it. "I have pretty expensive taste."

I laugh.

We both know the money he sent me will be more than enough for a simple dinner.

Even if it was at a three-star Michelin restaurant.

---

The evening is spent in laughs and the type of conversation I was beginning to think only Dabi was capable of. Which feels weird, because I remember Toga telling me Dabi wasn't the type to talk often. Or smile, for that matter.

But every time I tell myself maybe I'm mistaken about who he is...

He reminds me of why I was drawn to him in the first place.

"How's work going so far," He asks me in between bites. "Any problems?"

"No, everything's great." I tell him truthfully. "It's such a fun experience, and I love hanging out with everyone when I'm done. And you don't ask for as much as I thought you would, to be honest. Having so much free time makes me feel like you're still doing a lot yourself."

Dabi shrugs. "There's a lot I gotta take care of personally. Although to be honest, you're just really efficient. You finish everything so quickly. I was worried this would be too much for you but looks like it's manageable."

"Yeah, yeah definitely." I steal a shrimp from his plate. "What I'm trying to say is you could give me more. I can handle it."

Dabi nods but doesn't comment.

"Also," I begin. Should I bring it up? I should, right? Especially with how well the evening's going. Maybe he'll trust me.

He motions for me to go on.

"There's something I actually wanted to talk to you about.." I lower my voice so no one could accidentally hear anything.

Dabi takes a sip from his coke. "You keeping things from me?"

"It's not that, I just," I sigh. "I don't know if it's my place." He looks up at me, but I notice a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"I just-" I start to get nervous.

"Talk."

"Dabi, I'm talking to you as a friend right now. Not an employee. But I'm worried about you."

Confusion floods his face yet again. "Me? Why would you?"

Is he being serious?

"You know," I look down to his hands, as if that should explain everything. He follows my gaze. Cautiously, I touch them. When he doesn't flinch, I hold them more confidently. "The blood, Dabi. The times you behave...differently."

I don't know how to describe it to him. I don't even know if he's aware of himself when he arrives angry or irritated. Not that I know much about it either, of course. He always appears with a scowl and disregards everyone but the person or two that disappear with him into his office.

And he doesn't come out.

"That's nothing." Dabi replies. But his voice is colder than before. "Don't worry."

It sounds more like a command than an assurance.

"You promise there's nothing for me to worry about?"

There's the slightest bit of hesitation.

But his resolve immediately turns to steel.

"We agreed." He says instead. "Rina, this has nothing to do with you."

I suppose I should be thankful. He could have said it in a worse way.

"I know," I let go of his hands. I swallow, taking small bites from my plate to ease the sudden tension in the air. "I'm sorry sir. It's none of my business. I just wanted to be sure you were okay."

"I'm okay." His face is unreadable. "Not exactly someone you should be worrying about, Rina."

I don't know what he means by that. Does he mean it's not my place? Is it because I work for him now?

I shake the thoughts out of my head. It's not like he would have told me if I wasn't his secretary.

Maybe he means it really isn't anything to worry about.

But the amount of scenarios I can think up to explain the blood...

"Yes sir."

I hear the clink of glass as Dabi starts eating again. "You regret treating me tonight yet?"

"No sir," I give him a soft smile. "That's not related to this at all."

He smiles too.

But I regret the wall I suddenly put between us.

---

"Thank you for the excellent service," I wave at the waitress. She seems baffled. "No, thank you for the tip, I don't even know what to say! Please come again!"

I feel warm as I leave the restaurant.

It may have been a big tip, but knowing it made her day makes me smile.

After all, the opportunity to work at the Blaze came unexpectedly. Least I could do is pass on some of my happiness to others.

"That was a lot," Dabi comments, watching the waitress' reaction through the glass. She was talking to some of the other employees and pointed our way, a huge smile on her face. "Even for a Michelin restaurant."

"Yeah but look at her," I smile. "She looks so happy."

Dabi shrugs and keeps walking.

I walk beside him, unsure of what to say. He's been much more quiet since I brought up the blood. The thought of him possibly treating me the way he treats the other workers fills my gut with more worry. Dabi's treated me so well till now because of our prior connection. And all he asked of me in response was to give him space and keep my lips sealed.

He's probably thinking about how he couldn't even trust me with that.

But before I can ask, I hear someone shout, "Rina!"

Dabi and I stop.

I turn around just in time to see a familiar someone throw their arms around me.

"Aliyah!" My eyes widen.

We've barely seen each other since I left NNTV. Occasionally, we'll get to have breakfast together before work. But she spends so much time in the NNTV studio, and I've increasingly been staying late at the Blaze, so even that was becoming a rarity.

"What are you doing here!" I ask her incredulously.

"We had a company dinner!" She exclaims. "You want to come say hi? Everyone will be so happy to see you!"

But I get a bad feeling in my stomach.

And as I look behind her, I find Mr. Lane watching me with narrowed eyes.

Uh oh.

#dabi angst #dabi fanfic #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x oc #dabi x female reader #dabi fluff #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #touya x y/n #bnha dabi #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha

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k-s-morgan · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! I have been watching hannibal for years (and have read some of your hannigram fics on Ao3)❣️💀 and stumbling upon this blog I've found that your insight into their relationship is so so so honest and in depth. It really gives me a fresh pair of eyes with which to read and appreciate them ) Now, I hope you don't mind me asking but do you think that hannibal would have really been able to function properly had he eaten wills brain like planned? What would the future look like for him?

(@daffyduck9779, I hope you don’t mind if I add another ask to this message because it has a similar question!)

Another message: Your Hannigram meta is amazing! It truly makes the show more coherent for someone like me (who needs everything spelled out to them lol). One thing that always bothered me about S3 was the Hannibal sawing open Will's brain moment. What was going on in his head at that moment?? And what made him regret it afterwards?

---------------------

Hello! Thank you both so much for your words, I’m always happy to hear that my metas help someone discover new things about this brilliant show))

Dolce is such a painful episode.

Motivation

Hannibal wouldn’t have tried to attack Will if Will hadn’t pulled out that knife on him first as they were walking after their beautiful reunion. Mads additionally confirmed it in the latest interview, which I appreciated. Hannibal was ready to be with Will, to show him Florence, to forgive and be forgiven by him, but Will, due to his own conflict, acted aggressively first. It broke Hannibal’s still broken heart a bit more, making him think that they truly have no future together, and that if he wants to be with Will in any way while getting rid of vulnerability, he has to eat him like he did with Mischa, overcoming his loss in this way.

Actions

Despite everything, I’m sure Hannibal didn’t actually want to kill Will - he wanted to be stopped, and I love how the show, Bryan, and Mads all confirm it. Hannibal knows Bedelia is going to disclose his location to the police any moment now, so he stalls for as much as he can, spending hours on changing Will and cleaning him up, feeding him, waiting for Jack, cooking, etc. When he starts sawing, he’s doing it very superficially and slowly. If he really tried, he could have wounded Will terribly within seconds - instead, after a while, Will just has a shallow cut that doesn’t require much treatment. So Hannibal’s attempt was very, very half-hearted.

Hypothetical Scenario

But let’s imagine no one stopped him and he did kill Will. I was really tempted to write a short story about it once because I think his reaction would be visceral. Mads commented on this topic once again, saying that Hannibal would have never forgiven himself. I agree with him. I think Hannibal might have vomited right then and there, in that room, when the realization of Will’s death at his hands really sank in. He would have been devastated and sick, suddenly envisioning a thousand other paths of the future they could have had. He would never be able to overcome it, he would hate himself, and his self-destructive spiral that had already started in Europe would continue until he was killed by someone. I don’t think Hannibal would have chosen life if he lost Will at this point, especially if he was the one to blame for it. He would find a way to punish himself and to absolve himself both through death inflicted by someone lucky. Hannibal nearly killed himself via Jack an episode before that - if he lost Will for good and in such horrible way, it’d be the end for him too.

Regret

I think Hannibal came to the realization that life with the hope of Will maybe choosing him one day is better than life without Will during Digestivo. There was a real chance of Will being murdered by Mason and Cordell, and for Hannibal, it became a turning point. We see him save Will and tend to his wounds. Then we see him write down formulas to turn back time - I’m sure it concerns every traumatic event that took place between them, including Dolce. This is also where Hannibal verbally admits Will’s victory and proceeds to give himself up, sacrificing his freedom, something he valued so tremendously.

#hannibal #hannigram

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marsbutterfly · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond The Walls

Summary: "I have somewhere special I would like to take you!", her voice entered your ears making her presence known, causing you to gently gasp.

Without taking your eyes off your paperwork, you turn around to face the person speaking to you, about to explain how it wouldn't be possible for you to leave today but she was faster.

"I will not be taking a No for an answer." You let out a sigh, she could always get whatever she wanted from you.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

Your hands wrap around Hanji's waist, your head resting on her back while her hair gently tickles your face. It's been a couple of hours since you left the walls and to head towards this mysterious place. You read about it in books, but you could never have imagined such a place existed. You were a little nervous - what if it didn't live up to your expectations, and one of your biggest dreams came to be nothing but that - a dream?

"You haven't said anything for a while. Are you alright back there?", Hanji asks while moving her head slightly, enough so she could look at you yet still pay attention to where you were going.

"Yeah I'm fine, just nervous, that's all." Your foot shakes like it does when you feel anxious. You feel the horse slowing down until it came to a full stop. Hanji jumps to the floor, lending you a helping hand which you gladly accept.

As soon as your feet touch the grass, she pulls you into a tight embrace. The smell of the flowers around you and her perfume fills the air, with not a single titan in sight. You finally allow yourself to relax.

"This is the first time I've stepped outside the walls without fearing for my life. It's nice", you say, causing Hanji to chuckle and kiss the top of your head gently.

"You're going to love it. You don't need to be afraid, I promise."

You lift your head so you could stare into her eyes before leaning in for a kiss. Her lips are softer than usual, and just that little thought makes you smile and slowly melt in her arms.

"Are you ready to get going again?"

"Yeah"

You can hear it. The sound of the water, an insane amount of water. The birds. The wind blowing.

While going up the little path of sand you close your eyes, excitement rushing through your veins. You feel Hanji's hand touching yours and you finally gather up the courage to check. Then it finally hit you.

You're standing in front of the ocean, the massive lake of saltwater you've read about all those years ago.

In an instant, your entire face lights up, very much like a child receiving a gift. You want to run towards the water, feel its temperature, its taste, its feeling against your skin. Your brain fills with thoughts, trying its best to make sure these memories would be saved up there forever, while at the same time trying to comprehend all the mysteries about this place, ones you yearn to figure out.

In one swift move, you try to get off the horse's back, something you've been doing since you were 13, 14, but because of your excitement, you don't put a lot of thought into what you're doing, and you fall in the sand. You can hear Hanji laughing and you feel your cheeks blush lightly. She once again gives you her hand to help you get back on your feet.

"What do you think?", she asked once you stand again. You look to your left, carefully watching as the sun reflects on the water. It's a sight you never thought you would be able to experience, but there you were. It represents the bright future you have ahead of you, a better future for all of those living on Paradis Island. To your right, you see the mountains and the trees, places you've been that represent your past, all of your fallen comrades, all titans you've defeated, everything that brought you here to this moment. Finally, you look in front of you to the most beautiful sight of them all: Hanji. Her eyes carefully examine your reactions, her ponytail slowly falls apart as it blows in the wind. She places her hands around your waist, and you feel something you haven't felt since you were young - peace.

"It's beautiful... I never thought I would get the chance to see it. Being able to stand here with you is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me", you close your eyes. "You know, every day I thank Moblit for saving you. I won't ever be able to thank him enough for protecting you and giving me the chance to spend my days with you."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the pressure Hanji's hands apply to your waist, a delicate smile escaping your lips, "I hope he can hear me."

Opening your eyes once again, you see her staring at you, a few tears streaming down her face as she listens to your words closely. A few seconds go by until she seems ready to speak again, "I like to think that they can. They all can, all of our fallen comrades. Moblit, Nanaba, Mike, and Erwin...", you touch her face carefully, wiping away the tears as her face softens, "the first time we ever set a foot here, I could feel their presence. I hope they're proud of us", she says, touching your cheek in return. "Being commander after Erwin is a big responsibility. I have big shoes to fill, but today, here, at this moment with you, I'm not Hanji Zoe, the Commander of the Survey Corps."

She brings her face slowly closer to yours, lowering her voice with every word she says until the space between you stops existing, "I can just be your Hanji." The feeling of her lips against yours is not something new, but every time it brings butterflies to your stomach. The smell of her breath, the way her lips feel, even the way she gently smiles at you during the kiss.

Seconds feel like hours whenever you're with her, but unfortunately, the kiss comes to an end.

"Take off your boots! The sand on your skin and the water on your legs will be a whole new experience!" she says with a smile. You giggle at her agitated figure and do as you're told.

You take a few steps forward and let the coldness of the water take over your brain. Looking at the vast ocean ahead of you, a smile appears on your face. This is more than you could have ever dreamt of. The fishes swimming around your ankles, the waves coming and going, the little rocks moving along with the water... You watch everything so closely you even forget to breathe every now then, and so focused that you don't notice Hanji starring at you with stars in her eyes.

After a few minutes, you look up at her.

"Thank you for bringing me here today. It makes it worth all work I'm going to have to put in tomorrow. You always know how to make me smile."

Her face lights up as she claps her hands together. You can see how important it is for her to be the one to bring you here, and it causes a beautiful shade of pink to cover your cheeks. "Of course! I know you better than anyone else!" She splashes you before accidentally tripping and falling in. All you can do is laugh until she reaches up and takes you down with her.

At that moment you aren't sure about your future, or those of the people inside the walls or even of those who lie beyond the sea, but you are sure that at that moment, with Hanji by your side, is the happiest you've ever been. There and then, you know for sure that you're as strong as you have ever been, after everything. But you also find with certainty that Hanji is your one and only weakness.

And you're ok with that.

#snk #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #my sunshine #hanji x reader #hange x reader #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hanji zoe/reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction

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guigz1-coldwar · 4 years ago

Text

'Fighting together' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Fighting together"

"I'm struggling to make sure that every of my friends will get through this !" Chapter Summary : Yirina is struggling to resist after her & Park's capture by the Perseus Collective as the 'first tests' are beginning soon about her....she needs to stay strong....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3700

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I was back alone in that cell with nothing to do and the only thing I could do right now was to stay sit in that bed, having my eyes looking at the security camera and then looking around, observing the whole emptiness of my cell : an bed, an simple sink, an toilet out of the camera sight and that was it, nothing else. Not even an window was there, this place was surely going to make full crazy, been surrounded by 4 concrete walls and doing nothing while someone is watching me through an camera, I was locked down and I wasn't able to do an thing.

On me, I lost everything that could have help me to know what time is it, knowing only that one day has passed since we were captured. They took away my watch and without any window to take an look outside, it was sure that I will lost the sense of time, not even able to know which hour is it. This place is going to freak me out, I need to stay strong, Bell needs to be acting more even if it's going to be long. I need to stay more strong than before, they maybe want me to suffer but I will try to resist if I can.

As I was lamenting myself about my state, lying down in my bed, the door was making some noises, meaning that someone was opening it to enter my cell, getting my attention and when the door opened, I could see Freya herself, holding an plate in her hands, entering the cell. She was looking strangely good to me...too good to be true.

"What do you want ?" I asked her directly, moving on my bed to sit on the edge of it as she was walking to get in front of me.

"It's time to eat, Bell." She replied in an low voice, handing over the plate and discovering some sweets on it.

"Which time is it ?" I demanded too as I wanted to know about it even if it was maybe minimal for me.

"Almost the evening, come on, eat." She answered, putting the plate on the ground before taking an particular sweets on it to give it to me. "Those were your favorites, Kara-Koum." She explained as I was looking at the sweet.

"Why are you like this ?" I questioned her in an curious tone. "Why I am an important person to you ?" I added, pulling aside her hand.

"Bell..." She breathed in an painful desesperation, looking down but not even removing the sweet from her hand. "I hate to call you like that but I have no choices."

"But, that's my name, remember ?" I made her recall of that, remembering the calls I had with her. "You didn't forget that, didn't you ?" I continued, deciding to get back on lying down on the bed, looking at the ceilling, hands on my chest.

"We are trying to help you." Freya said, getting herself sit on the edge of my bed, next to my legs. "Please, let us help you."

"By locking me down ? By avoiding me to see my friend ? By maybe torturing me ?" I told her in an clear and dark voice, refuting the help she want to propose. "You all have an strange behavior in your group !" I rolled my eyes, even releasing an little silent laugh from my mouth.

"Listen..." She put her hand on my legs and for an first, I wasn't going to rebuke her at all, preferring to stay focused on watching the ceilling. "It's maybe unorthodox but helping you means that we can't allow you to roaming the place like that." She explained.

"I'm an prisoner, nothing important." I whispered, putting my eyes on her face.

"You're important to my eyes, Y-...Bell." She claimed, almost saying my name and her voice, she was sounding to mean it.

"That's why you kissed me on that plane ?" I asked her and her reaction was to look at the camera in shame.

"I knew that they were something wrong at the moment I saw you, that you weren't you." She revealed, thinking about the pain she had the moments after she saw me after these years.

"You almost killed me, you know that ?" I raised my voice, slowly redressing myself to have an better look on her. "My throat took days to recover but that's because we're enemies that you hit me." I added.

"You weren't yourself." She repeated to me, moving her hands to touch my face. "Yiri..." She silently said, feeling her fingers along my skin but instead of staying without moving, I looked away and got my back on the bed again, now facing the wall.

"Go, I want to be alone." I ordered her.

"You didn't even eat." She protested, hearing her taking the plate in her hands.

"I'm not hungry." I don't know why but I lied to her, sensing something wrong in those sweets. "Go now." I repeated again.

"We're helping you, be sure of it." She proclaimed as I heard her put the plate back on the ground. "I'm leaving them in case." She told me before she got up from my bed and then, walking away from it before I could hear the door getting closed, meaning that I was alone....again....

I quickly peaked my head to see if she was really gone, discovering the sweets plate next to my bed and looking back at the camera for an second before I faced the wall again, hiding my face from the camera as tears start to fall from my eyes, feeling the pain to play 'Bell' in here but....I've been playing it since the moment I stepped inside that base. Those tears were reals, it wasn't Bell at all, it was me....I need to stay strong....

As I closed my eyes to have some sleep in here, taking care to not hurt my wounded left arm on the bed, I was thinking of an lot of things before suddenly, I got myself transported....back on that hill....at Solovetsky....wearing my actual outfit. Is this some kind of an dream or an nightmare I'm living right now. I looked around me to discover behind me....myself & Adler himself, holding each other at gunpoint.

It seems that I was like an spectator, seeing that I wasn't even spotted by him & myself...what is happening ?....Then, two gunshots were done : one by me and one by Adler but at the moment the two bullets went to fly in their respectives directions, the world was suddenly like stopped by itself, watching the two detonations of our guns. No more sound, it was like the world stopped at the moment the bullets start to fly.

Then, as I was watching where my bullet that I shot was trying to go, me...myself moved from her position, acknowledging that I was here, no longer an spectator and putting an scare in me.

"You want to know where we hit him right ?" Myself....Bell said to me, getting her own M1911 back in her holstler.

"Uhm...." I was an bit shocked almost falling on my behind on the ground at watching myself....talking to me. "Is...I'm going crazy for sure." I affirmed, looking at my hands.

"We're all going crazy one day." Bell stated as she moved to face the sea and me, stunned and mostly shocked. "I don't know how to feel about that place, what about you ?" She asked me like if she was unaware of everything.

"You just saw it, Adler was going to kill me....us." I corrected myself, wondering if I really had to, she is me and I am her.

"I know but what do you think of here, without thinking of him ?" She repeated again, clarifying her words as I was trying to get myself back to normal.

"I don't know." I replied honestly, slowly moving to get next to Bell. "This place is...calm...peaceful...I don't know." I added, deciding to sit on the edge of the cliff.

"He thought that it would make an good place for us to go away." She suggested, sitting next to me too, watching how I was 3 years ago, an non-existant scar. "He never thought at any second that we wanted to live." She continued, taking an deep breath.

"He took us our chances to have maybe an normal life." I exclaimed, finding it now normal to talk with myself from 3 years ago...Bell.

"Yes." She changed my words, causing me to look at her with curious eyes. "He did succeeded however, he just killed one person here." She breathed away. "Me." She whispered in an low voice. "Bell died that day, not you."

"But I'm talking to you, you're alive...in my head." I wanted to recomfort Bell but she wasn't grinning or pulling out an smile on her face.

"You're playing myself, that's different." She told me, sounding sad & strange and her words did hit me hard. "You thought at first that you were still Bell until your memories of your real life came back." She expressed, not removing her eyes from me. "Everyone around you proclaimed that you weren't Bell anymore."

"I know." I snorted, feeling an tear on my left eye.

"You kept yourself saying that Bell was no more you but there's still something that make you remember that Bell is still in you." She proclaimed, moving her finger to point at my chest.

"I still got his memories in me." I sniffed, thinking about 'my time in Vietnam'. "Am I becoming like him ?" I demanded to Bell who shook her head.

"No, you will never be like him, we're not monsters." She answered clearly, sensing the truth in her voice. "Dying an hero...or living enough to become the villain...."

"Must be what Adler was thinking about us at this moment." I suggested and Bell nodded to me, an little grin on her face.

"Yeah and look where you are now." She told me, looking at my clothes. "Do you think that...Stitch or Perseus will try anything like we suffered ?" She asked me and she was sounding worried & scared.

"I wouldn't want that." I responded, looking down at the sea. "They are maybe going to hurt Park and I don't want that." I claimed loudly.

"We both don't want that, Yirina." She admitted, calling me by our real name. "Jess Blackwell & Yirina Grigoriev are the same person but they both loved Park." She affirmed, smiling as an tear fell from her left eye like me.

"That's not the only common point between me & you." I grinned. "Bell was acting like Yirina...careful, generous and protecting the innocents." I slowly nodded, the tear still present in our both left eyes.

"You're right but Bell doesn't really exist anymore to be honest." She expressed, sadly. "You make me live even if it's painful for you." She said before she got up to slowly return to her original position. "We're maybe going to talk later but now, you have to go back into the real world." She added as she took out her M1911 back in her hand.

"You know that you don't have to do this." I told her, closing my eyes only to think about what will happen.....

"I know but it's the only way to make you live."

I couldn't move myself to avoid that to happen but I closed my eyes when the gunshots occured and them...they did actually wake me up back on that bed, still on the same position, facing the concrete, my eyes still looking dry after having silently cried all night and having lived that troubling moment back on that cliff. Talking to Bell...to myself...I don't know how to really feel about it, it's troubling....

"Still playing the sleeping beauty ?" An voice broke me out of my thoughts, realizing that someone was watching me and when I turned around, I could see Sonya Kuzmin themself, standing up at an few meters from the bed.

"Have you been watching me ?" I asked them, my voice sounding like I didn't drink or eat something like 2 days now.

"No." They simply said, moving their right hand behind their back. "Seems that you didn't drink, listening to your voice, take it !" They told me as they gently throw at me an little bottle of water and even if I was suspicious, I couldn't resist to drink almost all of it. "Damn, you're thirsty as hell."

"I didn't drink for days, Sonya." I exclaimed, putting the bottle aside and passing my hands through my face to clean any traces of water next to my mouth.

"Freya said that you didn't eat last night." They expressed, sounding like worried in them. "You should eat, you know." They suggested, gesturing to the plate that was still there, next to the bed.

"Why are you worried about me ?" I asked them in an curious tone. "That doesn't seems your style, you're mostly rude to be honest."

"Is that an compliment ?" They demanded, crossing their arms to me and I couldn't help myself to smile as they took back my words from last day.

"Maybe..." I raised my shoulders as I finally decided myself to take an sweet in my hands to eat it...only one. "Why are you here by the way ?"

"I was tasked, along with Knight to bring you to the 'first test'." They answered, making me curious.

"The first test ?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"They want you to have an talk with someone." They explained, uncrossing their arms and slowly walking towards me. "Can't tell you but you will know soon."

"And I guess that I don't have any choices ?" They nodded to me, biting their lips.

"Hey, Sonya, I don't have all time to be an fucking guard, move on !" I could hear Knight's voice outside the cell and in fact, he was standing next to the door.

"You heard the man ? Let's move on." They ordered, taking some handcuffs from their pockets as they approach me with it. "Show me your hands." They demanded and I showed my hands to them before they started to handcuff me. "Come on, let's not keep Knight and the other waiting." They breathed before they make me walk with them outside the cell.

It was looking to be my first time out of that cell as I was escorted by Sonya and the irish Knight away to the mysterious place they were bringing me to. I was nonetheless scared to be honest and each time we were passing next to an door, I was wondering where Park could be, fearing about her state and how is she. I just hope that she's okay in this shitty situation...I just want that for her, to be well & okay.

After an little walk inside that long building, also thinking about trying to see through an window to see the light of the day, we were arrived near an door that was kept by Freya & Stitch themselves, awaiting for us. They were looking about that test they are going to make me do, seeing by their faces.

"So, this is my first test !" I muttered, looking at Stitch with eyes that could say that it was stupid as Sonya was unhandcuffing me.

"We're going to see how advanced it is to make an evaluation." Freya explained and I narrowed my eyes, understanding that 'it' was meaning my brainwashing.

"You're going to have an talk with Adler !" Stitch directly said to me, making my eyes go wide....I was really going to talk with Adler himself, he was just behind that door and for real....

"And...what I will talk about with him ? Our capture ?" I asked them.

"Well, we will see how it goes." Stitch told me before he put his hand on the door handle. "Have an good talk, Bell." He scoffed as he opened the door, forcing me to get inside and discovering that it was an interrogation room with an window like an mirror at our side and in the middle of the room....Adler, sitting on an chair next to an table...almost wearing an part of the outfit he use back in that mall.

"Bell, what an pleasure !" He started with an grin on an part of his lips, his jaw almost fully bearded.

"You look like shit, Russ'." I joked about seeing him like that as I slowly moved towards the empty chair in front of him....was he acting in front of them or it was just him been him ?

"See that you didn't lost your sense of humor." He exclaimed, looking at me with great eyes with me sitting on the chair. "I heard that you were captured, an mission that did go wrong, right ?" He questioned me.

"No, we got sold out by Hudson." I replied, feeling the angriness in my voice.

"Hudson sold you out....why ?" He was sounding an bit shocked to hear that.

"Don't know, must be one of the numerous CIA bullshits that I had to face in my life." I said, putting my arms on the table and taking a quick look at myself on the mirror. "What happened to you ?"

"Oh, they're trying to make me suffer like I did to the one-eyed guy." He responded, not even sounding ashamed of it, even breaking an little laught of it. "They're trying but it doesn't work." He affirmed clearly.

"Still thinking about our missions in Vietnam ?" I demanded as he was looking thinkful on his face.

"Yeah, wasn't the easiest days to live." He grinned, stretching his arm around.

"We've been in Vietnam together, we've fought together, we bled together, remember ?" I told him back, having remembered his words to me long ago and he nodded.

"You did remember that well !" He snorted with an smile as in the inside, I wasn't getting happier to have an talk with him, even moving my right arm under the table to clench my fist. "Remember the time you did come out to me after that mission in Khe Sanh ?" I nodded to them, fainting to remember an event that is fake. "You literally told me that you slept with an french nurse an day before." He was really making up an story here and I had to get along it.

"Yeah, it was...I could remember it well." I whispered, slowly nodding.

"But at that time, we got importants things...we had an job to do !" He....he said it again for real this time and my reaction was to close my eyes for seconds, knowing the pain of hearing it, my ears hurting me as echoes of that phrase was heard by me. "You know that." He added as I reopened my eyes.

"Yeah, I fucking know that." I muttered in silence as I got up from my chair. "It wasn't my way, Adler." I started, realizing that...it wasn't Bell talking, that was my real thoughts coming out of my mouth. "You made me participate in that war that wasn't mine."

"It was always for the greater good, kid." He claimed, still hearing him back on that cliff. "If you didn't came in Vietnam, you wouldn't have an big career in the MI6....I made you, Bell." He affirmed.

"You know that you weren't obliged to do that, there were other ways to make me but not that war." I expressed my pain, obliged to still talk about Vietnam, acting like Bell would do. "Did you actually cared for me ? You almost left me to die back there." I pointed in an random direction that wasn't in the window way.

"Bell, it was always for the greater good." He repeated again with an smile, urged to be punched. "And like I told you...it was never personal !" He added, closing my eyes for 4 seconds, realizing that it was too late to back down. "Bell, we have....." He was going to say before I decide to literally jumped over the table, fully decided to punch him.

I wasn't going to contain myself any longer with him in front of him. I threw myself in him, causing him to fall with his chair on the ground before I start to threw punches at his face, wanting him to suffer like I did years ago, like I'm doing right now. Each punch, I was getting more angrier than before. He make me suffer, it was my turn now. He was trying to defend himself with his arms but it was useless as each punch I was making was always in an different places....

"Quick, grab her !" I heard someone shout loudly as the door of the room opened with me still punching Adler until two persons got my hands on me, taking me back from Adler.

"Let me go ! Let me kill that son of an bitch !" I ordered in an rage as Freya & Sonya were in fact the ones to hold me back as Knight was moving to hold Adler back.

"I want to kill that british cunt, let me go, fucking Irish !" Adler was also angry at me as Stitch put himself between the two of us.

"Get her back to her cell and make sure she's okay !" Stitch ordered Freya & Sonya before he start to look at Adler and that Freya & Sonya was dragging me out of the room.

"Calm down." Freya suggested as in me, I was starting to replace my rage by silent cries, starting to cry for real as the two were putting me back into my cell and on my bed.

"Let me kill him..." I demanded but this time, I was mostly crying, almost pleading as I looked around, away from Freya & Sonya sight, the two were like worried about me....

"Freya, what happened ?" Sonya asked to her.

"I don't know but...." She started as she wasn't sure of what she saw in that room, having seen me in an big rage and now, crying inside and outside.....

"Adler did really broke her apart like she was nothing, he will pay for that one day !"

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod #call of duty #cod bell #black ops cold war #yirina grigoriev #fem!bell #helen park

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ineverlookavvay · 4 years ago

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I've hung my happiness upon what it all could be

Teenage Michael wants to tell Alex his secret, but it doesn't go as planned.

Fic prompt: “There’s something you should know…” - Day 2 of Michael Guerin Week 2020

read it on Ao3

“I’m gonna tell him.” Michael said it firmly, like they couldn’t argue. Max and Isobel stared at him with equal but opposing looks of anger.

“No you’re not,” Isobel said, taking a sip of her vitamin water. Michael swallowed the eye roll bursting to come out of him. They were all coping with things differently: Isobel was turning into the perfect wasp-y daughter her parents had always wanted her to be, Max was lining his life with rules, and Michael was trying desperately to find something to make himself feel good for even just a moment. And, some might argue, ruining his life in the process.

“You’re not,” Max affirmed, giving Michael one of his important, holier-than-thou looks. Like Michael couldn’t make this decision for himself, after all he’s already given up for them.

“It’s not your decision,” he insisted, “and I’ve already made up my mind. I’m just letting you know as a courtesy.”

“You can’t tell a human.” Isobel whispered the word human like it was a slur. “Especially now. We made this decision as a group, remember?”

“This isn’t some random guy, this is...it’s important.”

“Oh, it’s important? Michael, our own parents don’t know the truth. You know that keeping our true selves a secret is the most important thing. You know that.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He flexed his ruined hand, wincing at the pain of the stretch.

He wanted to tell Alex, every flash of pain in his damn hand felt like a reminder that he wanted to tell Alex, wanted to be honest about something in his life. They’d been drifting apart, Michael knew that, and he knew why, knew that it was his fault, his failings. Everything was going wrong—Michael didn’t have Max anymore, he didn’t have school, he didn’t have a future at all, and he had this guilt, this fear, sitting in his stomach all the time, not to mention his hand, and now it seemed like he didn’t have Alex either; he was going to just be another deadbeat cowboy without a future and with a regular booth at the bar, all the admittedly sparse love he thought he’d found would be gone. He couldn’t lose Alex, he needed that quiet, he needed to be able to feel the way he did when Alex looked at him, like he mattered.

What he needed was to close the widening distance, and he couldn’t very well tell the truth about why he’d been so distant, and angry, and lost. The less pressing truth—albeit maybe the bigger truth—would have to be enough, enough to prove that Michael cared, that he didn’t want a summer thing, that he couldn’t let go. He just needed someone to know him. And he wanted it to be Alex.

Plus, he’d been learning to play the guitar backwards, strumming with his mind, a pick floating in front of the strings as he felt out the chords with his right hand. The guitar he had in his possession was stolen, of course, which wouldn’t be great to lead with, but the trick was fun, and he thought once they got past the initial shock of it, Alex would like it. And Michael desperately needed something about himself for Alex to like.

“Do we need to remind you what happened when you lost control? You want to risk everything and for what?” Isobel was really growing into her adopted family, her tone straight out of Mrs. Evans’s playbook. “Some boy who’s too much of a secret to tell us his name? Who you won’t even talk to in a few months?”

Michael bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood.

Isobel’s phone rang and she got up to answer it, shooting Michael a parting look that he only forgave because it was her.

“She’s right, though,” Max said quietly. “You can’t tell him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What happens when he leaves for college?” Max pressed. “What happens when you move on and he still knows? Every scenario ends with us on a specimen table. You can’t tell him.”

Michael sagged as he stood, the weight of the conversation adding to everything else. It was all too much. “I know.” Max nodded, like that was it, done, decided; and Michael threw one last hail Mary pass to the wind. “What if it was Liz? Wouldn’t you want to tell her, if it would save you from losing her?”

Max frowned, and Michael could tell he’d fucked up, hit a nerve that was too deep, and that he should have left well alone. And it wasn’t the same, not at all, because Liz was gone and Alex wasn’t. Because Max could get up and go to work and live his life, and Michael could only see the edge of the cliff getting closer and closer.

“No.” Max said, firmly. “We can’t tell anyone. This is a family thing, Michael. It’s not a card you can play. It’s our lives.”

“Yeah.” There was no sense arguing, they would never understand what his life was, not when their own experience was so damn rosy, and they would never understand why he had to do this. Why he needed there to be something true in his life right now, something good. This hadn’t gone the way he wanted, but Max and Isobel never even had to know if he told Alex—Michael was sure that Alex wouldn’t tell anyone, wouldn’t betray him.

“You wanna stay for dinner?” Isobel asked, coming back over, her stance softening as she took in the tight shield of Michael’s body. “Mom’s making a casserole.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Michael shook his head and started backing up towards his truck. He hated feeling like a charity case, hated the look in both of their eyes, the one they’d developed to hide their pity, like Michael couldn’t still see through that. “Later.”

Inside the protection of his truck, Michael leaned his head back against the headrest and sighed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but somehow he thought they’d understand, he thought they’d see how important this was, how close Michael was to drowning. Unwittingly, he’d gone from the black sheep to the clean-up crew, the person they would only listen to when something bad was happening, something they judged important, and every other moment he was just a disappointment, the hothead who fucked it all up. And he didn’t have to put up with that, not when there was still someone else out there who did want him around, who did give a fuck.

Michael put the truck into gear and drove towards the UFO Emporium. Alex was still working, which was good, since Michael was probably the only one of anyone who didn’t have a cell phone, and even if he did, there was such a high chance of Alex’s dad monitoring his cell phone that Michael would never have been able to call or text it anyway.

There wasn’t a line, there was never a line, and Michael stepped up to the window apprehensively. “Can you come by, later? I’ve got something to show you.”

Alex looked up quickly, reacting to Michael’s voice, and then looked around quickly, scanning like he thought someone would be watching. “Yeah, okay. I’m off at 7.”

Michael nodded and Alex looked so uneasy that he didn’t bother sticking around to talk, just walked back to his trunk and drove off to the small rectangle of land he was currently parking on, a sorry excuse for a home. Alex knew where to find him, though, and that gave it a sort of silver lining.

He waited, drinking a beer he’d been given by someone days ago and stashed in the truck, trying to calm his nerves. He had decided, it didn’t matter what Max and Isobel said—he was going to tell Alex, and it was going to close this chasm widening between them, and it was going to be worth it, and Michael would stay afloat.

Alex pulled up early enough that it was clear he’d come straight from work. Michael sat in the truck bed watching him approach. There was something off about Alex, something different, but Michael couldn’t put his finger on it, not when his mind was snarled with love and nerves and fear and anger and everything else. A big black tangle, that only Alex had ever been able to begin to unwind. He was going to tell him.

“So what’s up?” Alex said, rubbing his palm against the metal wall of the truck bed like he wasn’t sure he was going to jump up next to Michael. That wasn’t a good sign, even if he did eventually nod and climb up.

Michael took a deep breath and immediately hesitated, veering off from the direct words. “I’m teaching myself to play guitar again. Backwards, but still.”

Alex smiled, but there was something like intense sadness under it. “That’s great, Michael.”

Michael swallowed. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for. He pulled the stolen guitar out from where it had been hiding under a blanket and lay the fretboard across his leg. “I want to show you, but—but there’s something you should know. Something you need to know, first.”

“Actually, I’ve got something to tell you, too,” Alex cut in, rubbing his thumb across the threads of his jeans, the nail catching occasionally. He wasn’t wearing nail polish, Michael realized with a start. Or eyeliner. All of his piercings were just empty holes.

“Let me go first,” Michael said, suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. He didn’t want to hear whatever Alex was going to tell him, not at all; he thought his survival might depend on not hearing it. “Alex, you know I trust you, and I want you to know I’m—“

“I’ve decided to enlist,” Alex said, looking away and then back to Michael, his face set defiantly. “We decided. Last night, that it would be the best thing for me.”

Michael blanched, all of the words he’d spent the afternoon deciding on rushing out of his head. He must have heard wrong. “What the fuck do you mean?” His voice sounded angrier than he meant it to, more desperate, and Alex sighed and looked back down at his hands. Then the rest of the sentence hit Michael. “Who the fuck is ‘we’?”

“My dad and I. It’s—I made the right decision for me right now.”

“Like hell you did.” Michael banged his fist against the truck bed, the metal sound reverberating through the guitar with a discordant twang. Alex winced, closing his eyes, and Michael immediately wanted to take the angry gesture back. “I’m sorry.” He put his hand gently on Alex’s leg and Alex didn’t look at him, but didn’t flinch away either. “But…you hate that shit. What about your music? What about getting out of here?”

“I am getting out of here,” Alex retorted.

“Not on your terms. Not like…” Michael paused to take a breath. It had occurred to him recently, that they could just leave, together—once Alex knew the truth, they could leave and protect each other, and Max could stay here and protect Isobel; it would be better for them to be spread out anyway. Michael hadn’t said it out loud yet, and certainly not to Alex, but he’d been harboring this fantasy deep inside him, and he could feel it slipping like water through his fingers now. “We could leave,” he said quietly, urgently. “Just hear me out and we can figure everything out, and you won’t have to—to fight in their wars.”

He could tell it wasn’t enough.

Alex scoffed, looking up at him again. “You’re talking about nothing, Michael.”

Michael could hear Max and Isobel’s words from earlier echoing in his bones, taunting him with how right they were. Michael felt stupid, like he’d been tricked into thinking this meant something, when Alex could just leave. Except, he didn’t think he’d really been tricked, he thought they were both drowning, both reaching out for something to keep them afloat. The issue was that thing for Michael was Alex, but for Alex, it wasn’t Michael.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, pleading, but trying to make his voice sound certain. Michael had been so sure, so sure, that telling Alex was the right thing; so sure that they were something different, that this was the first time in his life he wouldn’t be left behind. He hated himself for thinking that, for getting his goddamn hopes up.

“Grow up, Guerin,” Alex said sharply. Then he sighed, and when he looked back up at Michael he looked sad, regretful. But not enough to change anything. “I should go.” He slid off of the truck and started walking back to his car.

“Alex! Wait!” Michael jumped down into the dirt, taking a few steps forward. He didn’t know if Alex wanted to be followed, and he couldn’t take more steps without the guarantee that he wouldn’t be running after someone who didn’t want to be chased. Alex turned around with his hand on the door of his car and smiled sadly at Michael, waiting for Michael to talk. He could still tell him, but it felt less like sharing a secret and more like throwing everything away for someone who didn’t even give enough of a shit to stay. “When do you leave?”

Alex shook his head. “Soon.”

Michael bit his lip, because he didn’t cry, and he didn’t show weakness, especially to someone who could hurt him. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said, eventually, and Alex nodded, still smiling that sad, tight smile.

Michael watched him drive away, walking back over to the truck. He’d have to let Max and Isobel know that he hadn’t said anything after all, even if he hated telling them they’d been right. He felt like such an idiot for believing anything other than what they’d known their entire lives—it was just the three of them, and no one else was ever going to know him like Max and Isobel. Michael just had to get used to that.

He slammed his fist against the side of the truck again, closing his eyes. Michael liked the noise it made when he hit the truck, the sympathetic echoing sound of the guitar, filled with the kind of chaos that was inside him. He picked up the guitar, considering it. He’d been so excited to show Alex the trick, and now it just felt stupid, trite and childish. He should be focused on getting himself out of Roswell, and not on what amounted to party tricks.

The thought hung heavily over him, and Michael was suddenly so fucking angry at everything—at Alex, at Max and Isobel, at the whole situation that left him here, alone, like always, but this time for the long run. He wrapped his fist around the fretboard and slammed the stupid stolen guitar against the metal of the truck. Sharp splintering noises that sounded like everything he couldn’t say, as the guitar turned into shards of wood and string, until there was nothing left in his hand, until all Michael was filled with was an empty kind of sadness.

He got back in the truck and drove to Max and Isobel’s house, pausing and then knocking on the door. Isobel answered, looking surprised.

“Everything okay?”

Michael ignored the question. “I didn’t tell him. I just—I wanted you to know that I didn’t do it.”

Isobel looked like she was going to gloat about winning the argument, then she seemed to take in Michael’s appearance, and pulled the door open wider instead. “What happened?”

Michael smiled widely, humorlessly. “You were right. It wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“Want to come in? Mom just served dessert.”

“No ‘I told you so, Michael’?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not this time. Come inside?”

Part of Michael wanted to be anywhere else than inserting himself, unwanted, into their happy family, but the other part knew that anywhere else he would go tonight would end up being worse, would end with him hurt or arrested or blacked out. He probably still would end up there, but at least he could put that off for a few hours.

He nodded, and walked inside with Isobel, and wished that would be enough.

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #malex #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #my writing #michael guerin #alex manes #isobel evans #max evans #angst #they're all young and trying their best and still hurting each other #like the very beginning of the lost decade so idk if it counts

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vole-mon-amour · 5 years ago

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OTP tag game.

Tagged by @captainjowl. You know for sure than I'm struggling to pick only 10 & fit them in here. But hell, that’s fun, thank you <3

Rules: Choose 10 OTPs BEFORE reading the questions, and then get to answering

1) Harry James Potter & Sirius Orion Black

2) Daniel Le Domas & Grace (Ready or Not 2019)

3) Samuel & Nathan Drake (Uncharted 4)

4) Corvo Attano & The Outsider (+probably Emily Kaldwin; Dishonored series)

5) Steve Grant Rogers & Bucky Buchanan Barnes (Marvel)

6) Tony Edward Stark & Peter Benjamin Parker (Marvel)

7) Handsome Jack & Rhys (Borderlands video game series)

8) Damon Salvatore & Elena Gilbert (TVD Books & a tv show)

9) Batman & Joker (in every universe, really)

10) Adam Jensen x Francis Pritchard (Deus Ex video game series)

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?

I believe it didn't hit me before Spider-Man: Homecoming. Civil War was about Steve & Bucky for me, but when I saw that growing up Peter with Tony, their dynamic, chemistry. Tom & Robert are really just like that.

2. Have you ever read a fanfic about 2?

Lmao. I've read like 50% of the tag on AO3, I wrote my own & started a few wips on them. They are amazing. Plus, with that shitty canon? We didn't get enough of them & they deserved better, so it's only logical to save yourself with fanfiction.

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr screen saver?

I was living with The Outsider icon on my twitter & tumblr. That one is still my Google profile picture I believe. Don't remember about having an icon with the two of them. Also had The Outsider as my lockscreen on my smartphone for a while.

4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be?

Funny how it fits canon, lmao. Rhys literally tried to erase Jack's AI in TFTBL, so I guess another day on Pandora, nothing new. They torture each other, they kiss each other, they kill other people in the process. It'll be fiiine.

5. Why is 1 so important?

I love them since the first time I met them, which was much more than 10 years ago, I don't even remember when. At some point they were the reason I was waking up & forcing myself to eat just to read more fanfiction & feel something. Even if I was drowning in pain (I was extremely depressed), it was still something. I read every fic I could find at that time. The depression that Harry went through, all these feelings, his love for Sirius. I was living through it, I could relate.

I'm currently drowning in these two again, though in a much healthier & happier state. I see their flaws & I know as much as I can. I see them differently as an adult. They saved me, they keep being my number one, I still consider making a tattoo of Padfoot/Sirius or of both Harry & Sirius together. I have many headcanons, ideas, I write fics about them. They are everything, you see? They were my choice when there was nothing, no one. They are HOME.

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?

Both. There goes the dynamic of Jack & Rhys: torture, fighting, flirting, a lot of trauma. I'd definitely say that they are wild and comical sometimes, but they are definitely serious. With the Asylum, the mental health issues. There is so much more to it, the complexity of their relationship. The struggle of loving who you probably shouldn't (but hey, when does it work like that?) Thinking about Tettlate's Batman, about Batman: Europa & how Joker was: "You must be crazy, putting me in charge of the plan, letting me decide. Okay, well..."

Nah, they are entertaining, but this is a serious ship.

7. Out of all the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?

Are you kidding me? They are all the definition of CHEMISTRY. I'd say 5, but then go 2, 6, 7, 8. Come on. I'm not choosing. Most of they are WILD.

9. How many times have you read/watched the 10’s fandom?

The fandom itself? Idk. I found one of my favourite artists through this fandom. If it's about the characters themselves, I played the first game with the DLC from start to beginning, looking around every corner. Spent more than 60 hours in there. Watched a second game (my laptop can't run the game) and the DLC (obviously), since Francis is in the DLC & not in the main game. I have a tag for them on tumblr, I read fanfiction, I tried to write my own. I still follow Elias & want a third game. Elias liked my tweets about Adam and Jensen being an actual couple a few times. I'd say I interacted with all of this a lot? Still do, actually.

10. Which ship has lasted the longest?

5. Best friends since childhood, fought & died for each other, still found their way back to each other. "It would break your Captain's heart, to see what they did to you." That only the MENTION of Steve can pull Bucky out of this brain washing(ed?) state, distract him in the middle of a fight. When Steve died in the comics because of Sharon & Tony sent Natasha to take Steve's shield from Bucky because even Tony knew how much Steve means to Bucky. And Bucky was like: "Oh, I see what he did. Not happening!" Fought Natasha (that is his ex in the comics) & kept going for Steve's sake.

Well, you see the point, I can go on and on.

11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up?

They're not actually canon so none? They had a few fights: In Civil war (the comics), in Homecoming (the movie). That only means that they’ve got history & love each other.

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?

As fierce Grace is, they wouldn't stand a chance against Damon & Elena. Those two had to deal with worst thing than brainless stupid zombies. On the other hand, if there were no alive humans to drink their blood... It's either an animal diet that Damon hates so much or I don't know? Still, they're faster & more powerful. Their bodies have advantage of healing the wounds as well.

13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?

From some people, yeah. Don't tell Athena, don't tell Vaughn, don't tell Fiona. Though Rhys wasn't very subtle about it & Jack just doesn't give a fuck. You will probably end up dead if you disagree or bore him, or if you're useless.

"I can take you to the top, but you gotta know where the top is" & Rhys doesn't tell anybody until Jack makes him the President for like whole 20 minutes lol.

Fiona & Sasha: "This can't be happening." Sure it can, darling.

14. Is 4 still together?

I have a headcanon about The Outsider finding Emily & Corvo after Billie frees him from the Void. He doesn't have anybody & they are his only friends aside from a potential friendship with Billie. And if we don't consider TOTO dlc, they definitely are! The Outsider visits them both when they sleep & takes them to the void sometimes. How could he not?

15. Is 10 canon?

Not really but also sort of? Let's say that they really care about each other in canon, despite Adam pushing Francis away because of his trauma & fear that Megan caused him. :/

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?

Can you imagine wizards fighting extremely powerful vampires? Superheroes with venom in their bodies that make them super strong with people that made a deal with the Devil himself (hi Le Bail)? 5000 y.o. God and his lover that share his powers and an augmented human protecting his tired IT guy? Combine mental health issues to that, Jack and Rhys with Batman and Joker. Corvo & The Outsider would probably slay them all as Corvo and Emily did in both games with entire islands, though it will still be a slaughter anyway.

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship?

All the fucking time, lmaooo. I’m not even talking about it.

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?

I feel like I already did with Steve & Bucky after many Marvel movies (we're not even mentioning Endg*me, I fucking died & was dead for full 4-5 months).

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page?

I used to do that a few years back, but not anymore. There is not much content since the trilogy is finished.

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all forever, which ship would you sink?

1 already went through it & fandom lives, so I'd say maybe 7? Rhys will find a way to bring Jack back & they are both so wild. It’s what happened in canon anyway. Jack kidnapped Lilith & forced her to do Angel's job, so I'd like to see that witch try at first. Jack is an immortal bastard. <3

Now that I think about it, Corvo would also deal with her in seconds as she waits to curse them.

As a conclusion: no one breaks up forever, we're killing the witch.

I tag: @ianmillkovichgallagher & @aledbr

Whoever else wants to join the game, please do.

#otp #me #tumblr #harry x sirius #delena #corvosider #rhack #tony x peter #batjokes #jensard #steve x bucky #ready or not #drakecest

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is-it-madness · 4 years ago

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Currently reading @fadingfics ‘s incredible story and I absolutely love it!! I highly recommend it and you can find it on AO3. I have chapter eighteen linked below.

Summary: Faith and Loki are fuck buddies. Someone who was there when no one else was. When Faith was fucking around with a married man who all of the sudden decided to grow a conscience right after his wife got pregnant with twins. When Loki was cheated on by his fiancée only a couple of weeks before their wedding. It is a comfort thing and they were perfectly fine with it, why make it complicated with a baby? It’s ridiculous!

Chapter 18: What About Now?

Madness List: This is a list of my reactions, so spoilers below the cut :D

1) ‘Faith was sitting on the edge of the building, one of her legs hanging down, the other bent under her body. She was just staring out into the night, it wasn't late and the night was quiet so far. Very unlikely for a saturday, but she wasn't complaining.’

... I want to do this. If anyone would like to shove me off the list edge, you have my full permission.

2) ‘The door creaking softly didn't alarm her, as she thought it was the wind, but when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps tapping on pavement, Faith turned around.’

I’m like... shaking with anxiety, excitement, and nervousness.

3) ‘“Um…” He started, but stopped suddenly at realizing where Faith was sitting. “Oh, my God! Get the fuck away from there!” He said, flailing his arms, but refusing to go anywhere near the edge.’

😂😂 poor baby

4) ‘Faith giggled. “Okay, calm down! It’s not like I'm planning to jump.” She joked, standing up and walking somewhere safer.’

Maybe you’re not but... I’m not saying no 👀

5) ‘“Um… I had- I-” He sighed again. “We need to talk, Faith.”’

👀👀

6) ‘“Now?”’

Babe let’s be honest with ourselves. If not now, it will probably never happen.

7) ‘“I can't do this anymore, Faith. I miss you… Actually, I love you.” He exclaimed. “And all this time I've been a wreck, thinking that something I did or didn't do was what made you lie in the first place. All this time I've tried to blame you and hate you and I can't.” He stopped to breath and paced. “I love you and I wanna be with you. For fuck's sake! I wanna marry you!”’

Oh whoa okay, was totally not expecting to cry rn okay that’s a lie I’ve been crying the whole time I’ve been doing this

8) ‘“I slept with James.” Faith blurted out and Loki kept holding his breath, like he had forgotten how to breathe. “Or, actually, was going to and then didn't…” She tried to explain. “I mean… I couldn't--” Faith swallowed. “I couldn't because of you.”’

Oh thank goodness!! I’m really glad she didn’t keep that a secret because I seriously would’ve DIED

9) ‘“I couldn't--” She started again. “I love you, Loki. And every single second I was with him, I wished he was you, I wished you were there… and you weren't.” Faith confessed, crossing her arms on her chest and rubbing her upper arm.’

🥺🥺😭

10) ‘“Oh,no.” She shook her head violently. “I just needed someone to vent… I guess he wasn't the wise choice after all.”’

If you think just because they are finally confessing their affection for one another, that I’m not going to use this moment to rub it in her face... you are absolutely ✨wrong✨

11) ‘“How could I?” She rubbed her face. “How could I tell you anything if I didn't get it myself? Tell you that part of me wanted the baby and the other half was terrified? How could I tell you if that meant admitting I had feelings for you? That I--” Faith stopped to wipe the single tear that escaped her will not to cry. “I was scared. Scared to find out you didn't feel the same…”’

Welp... if you need me, I’ll be in my blanket burrito, crying some more :)))

12) ‘Faith immediately knew he was talking about the James part. “I know that was a mistake. And I also know I won't be going back there.” Loki gave her a skeptic look. “I mean it, Loki. There's nothing left there for me.” She sighed. “I know it’s kind of hard to understand, but… almost having that last- thing…” Faith stopped again and wiped more tears off her face. “That's it. It wasn't smart, but it was what had to happen for me to be able to turn around.”’

Glad you’re finally starting to get it, love. I was worried I would have to smack you for you to see.

13) ‘“Just--” He sighed. “Nothing happened that night with Sigyn, Faith. She found the US pictures before anything could happen. And I’m sort of relieved she did, even if it was by pure chance.”’

Okay I’m really happy that they’re coming clean about everything, explaining everything, and giving each other a chance to explain. That’s... that’s cool.

14) ‘“So what now?” Faith asked. “We go back to try and be friends or simply be over with all of this and I get a job ot the other side the country?” She said only half joking.’

😑😑

15) ‘Loki smirked, but she didn't see him. “You shouldn't be asking that, Faith.” Slowly, he walked close to her. Before she could say anything, he held her arms and kissed her. “How about starting over?” He whispered, wiping her face with his thumb.’

Soft? ✅

Crying? ✅

Yearning? Embarrassingly so ;-;

16) ‘Loki laughed loudly, pulling her close again and placing his forehead on hers. “Tell you what. I’ll pick you up in the morning…” He said kissing her neck softly. “…and we’ll have amazing make up sex all day, hmm?”’

Have I mentioned that I adore them? Because if not, I do. And if I have, you get to hear me say it again.

17) ‘“I will.” Faith said with a nod. “I’ll switch days so I don’t have to work with James anymore.” “Really?” Faith nodded again. “Yeah. I’ll ask Thor or Clint. You were right about that too… I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

YESSSSSSSS STAY AWAY FROM THAT PRICK

18) ‘True to his word, Loki picked up Faith next morning and took her to his apartment, where a full breakfast followed by a nice warm bubble bath were waiting for her. Loki even admitted to get up at seven, just to have things ready for her. Faith thought it was cute, cheesy, but cute.’

Hey man. If I had someone do that for me, even once, I would not be calling it cheesy 😂😂

19) ‘“Aw, you were waiting for me naked? How thoughtful of you.” She said, caressing his shoulder and kissing him. “Saves time, you know?” Loki whispered, peeling the robe off her body and letting it fall on the floor before trapping her waist in his arms and lie Faith down on the bed.’

They are so sweet I- 🥺🥺

20) ‘Having sex with Loki was special. There never was a learning process, a getting to know each other. Their whole relationship started with a few drinks and a casual fuck, but somehow both knew exactly what to do and when to do it to drive each other crazy. There was something special about all being driven by instinct, by the fact that if you asked them, they couldn’t say either. It was one of those things that just happened. And it happened several times that morning, until exhaustion got the best from Faith (after all, she had been working the night before). Loki didn’t care, though, he was just as happy to hold her in his arms, knowing this time she was his, and watch her sleep until he fell asleep too.’

I... I think I might have found a new OTP. Like... they’re both absolute idiots, yeah. But I love them. And they are so perfect for each other. Yeah, new OTP.

#madness list #a heart on the mend

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porkchop-ao3 · 6 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 14)

Leisure Time

Some leisure time with Arthur <3

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

I'd grown used to waking up early, before anyone else, and putting on a pot of coffee. It'd quickly become my routine, so when I approached the fire to see that it was already lit and there was already a pot of coffee waiting for me, it surprised me. I poured myself a cup and looked around the camp, expecting Pearson to be around. He was, but he was still sleeping; that's when I noticed that Arthur's bed was empty. Immediately I felt the usual pang of adrenaline spreading from my stomach at the prospect of him being around; it was becoming more familiar, more pleasant. Excitement rather than nerves.

I wandered the camp looking for him, finally finding him behind Pearson's wagon with a bucket of water and a wet cloth. I jumped when I realised that he was shirtless, just as he looked up and noticed me.

"Oh! I'm sorry," I mumbled, turning to head off.

"No, it's alright. How you doing this morning?" He asked. I stopped, my back still to him, taking a second to breathe before turning around.

"Not too bad. Yourself?" I asked. He was washing himself, wiping the cloth up and down his chest and under his arms. The top of his union suit was hanging down over his jeans, his upper body totally bare. His torso was gently toned under a fine layer of soft cushion, he was brawny and undeniably masculine with a generous smattering of chest hair. I tried so very hard not to stare.

The side of Arthur's mouth turned up when he caught my expression; he must've known how he made me feel.

"Not too bad," he echoed me, wringing out his washcloth before wiping it around his neck. "Did Micah give you any more trouble yesterday?"

"Oh, no. He left me alone after you left," I told him, dawdling over to the wagon and leaning up against it, putting me a little closer to him. I sipped my coffee.

"Well, you know where I am if he ever does," he said, then scrubbed at his face. I admired his toned arms as they moved, shining a little with water. I averted my gaze before he pulled the cloth away from his face, staring off towards a group of chickens nearby.

"Thank you, but I should be fine," I assured him and he chuckled.

"I don't doubt that."

"I heard the robbery went okay, a lot of lawmen but a decent take," I said, watching him nod his head slowly.

"Yeah, it went alright. Sounds funny, hearing you talk like that."

"What, about robberies?" I asked, the corner of my mouth lifting in amusement.

"You don't look like– I don't think it suits you, much," he told me, and I wasn't sure how to respond.

"What does suit me?"

"I haven't figured it out yet," he shrugged.

I looked at him for a while before averting my eyes, pursing my lips in thought. I really didn't know what to make of the conversation. In the end I simply changed the subject.

"I spoke to Abigail yesterday," I told him, looking back to see him pick up a towel and start drying off. "She don't hate me, like I thought she did."

"I didn't think she would, I told you you worry too much. Still, must be a weight off your shoulders," he said.

"Absolutely," I laughed. He put the towel aside, leaning up against the side of the wagon and facing me, making no move to redress. "She'd heard what Karen said and she seemed to take no notice."

"What, about you and Marston?" He smirked, forever seeming amused by the concept. I nodded my head. "Abigail has her head screwed on, she can sniff out a bunch of bull with the best of 'em."

"She's certainly observant," I laughed, shaking my head and chewing the inside of my cheek.

"You told me you didn't like how you were coming across; seems you were wrong about that. Folk'll see your intentions, you ain't here to cause trouble. So, I guess now you ain't got nothing to worry about, you won't be so eager to get away from us?" He joked.

"You know? You're right about that," I admitted, and Arthur's brows raised, amusement draining from his face being replaced with uncertainty.

"I'm sorry?"

"Truth be told, I did some thinking yesterday about what I wanna do. I realised maybe I don't wanna run off as much as I thought I did," I sighed, chewing on my lip.

"You can't be serious?" Arthur let out a breath that was halfway between a laugh and a sound of disbelief. I frowned and straightened up, facing him head on.

"What do you mean? You were the one asking me the other day if I really wanted to leave, sounded a bit like you thought I'd be better off staying. What's changed?" I asked and Arthur paused for a while, keeping his eyes on mine. I kept Abigail's words in mind and forced myself to hold eye contact.

"That was before the Pinkertons showed up," he finally said.

"And? You said you all had each others' backs, looked out for each other. Maybe I… maybe I wanna be a part of all that," I told him and creases formed between his brows.

"You've certainly changed your tune, little miss lone wolf," he snorted.

"I realised something," I said, gaining an expectant look from him. "People, they– when they're in a situation they can't exactly change they have ways of making themselves feel better. They tell themselves all sorts of lies to change their outlook, to protect themselves," I looked down at the ground.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I convinced myself I liked being alone, that it was the only way for me, cause it was easier than dealing with the fact that I was lonely and scared about what the future might hold for me; no friends, no nothing," I told him, despite everything in my head screaming at me not to. Once this was said there was no going back.

Arthur was quiet for a long time and I looked up at him to see his reaction. He looked thoughtful, his face soft and considerate.

"But the more time I've spent here the more I realise, being alone is nice and all but it ain't something I want permanently. The way I've been living this past year, I've just been surviving, scraping through, I don't think I've spent five minutes not being tense. Here, I've been sleeping through the night, not waking up every time I hear a damn rustle in the trees. I've… I've smiled."

"I thought you were happy on your own," he said.

"So did I. Not as happy, it turns out, as I am actually interacting with human beings on a regular basis," I laughed. "Feeling like I'm part of something, like I can contribute, be useful. That's better than just surviving. I wanna help you folk, you're good people," I reached out and touched his arm, forgetting for a moment his lack of a shirt and flushing when my hand met bare skin.

I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat, Arthur seemed to read my mind and shimmied his arms back into his union suit, buttoning it up as he spoke.

"I don't know about that. I can see what you're saying, and part of me wants to tell you to stick around for those reasons exactly. But we've got the law after us, I don't want you getting wrapped up in and punished for something you weren't even involved in, just by way of association with us," he told me, his voice lowering and turning smoother, deeper. Very pleasant on the ears indeed.

"That don't put me off, much," I shrugged. "After all, what's my alternative? I wave goodbye and go back to what; my tent? Going days on end without saying a word 'cause there's no one around to hear it? That might've worked for me before but it ain't now, no thanks," I shook my head. "I don't have many options, Arthur. And I like it here."

"You're a woman, you've always got options," Arthur said, and when I cocked a brow at him, he explained. "You could ride up to Valentine right now and find a feller who'd make an honest woman out of you, put a roof over your head, build a life with you. One that don't involve robbing."

"You think? A woman with no money, no reputation at all, let alone a good one. No family. I don't know, Arthur, I ain't all that much of an eligible bachelorette."

"Lot'a folk round here don't care about that. I know if I was leading a normal life and I was lookin' for a woman, I'd– well, I ain't gonna finish that, save you the embarrassment," Arthur muttered, averting his eyes with an awkward chuckle. I felt warm with his words, a special seed of something planting itself in the pit of my stomach that made me want to stick around even more. "My point is, you have other options."

I shook my head. "Whatever your point is, I don't much like the sound of having my whole future resting on the shoulders of some hypothetical man."

Arthur's brows raised, an enlightened look appearing on his face. After a moment he wagged his finger at me, "you know what? Forget all that."

"Huh?"

"I'm speaking from where the sun don't shine," he started, chuckling. "You, m'lady, are stubborn. You're stubborn, real independent, and eventually you'll make your mind up."

"I already have."

"I tell you what, this ain't my decision to make; I'm leaving the door open for you, but I ain't pushing you through it. You wanna stay? I'm sure Dutch'd be real happy about that,” he said, his voice lifting again, turning breezy.

"And what about you? Would you be happy if I were to stay? You seem just as indecisive as me when it comes to whether I should be staying or leaving."

"Miss, it don't matter what I think," he tilted his head at me and sighed. "You're gonna do exactly what you want, regardless."

"Would you be happy if I stayed?" I repeated, putting my coffee down on the table by Arthur's bucket of water.

Arthur stared at me in consideration, searching my eyes. I refused to look away despite my heart pounding in my chest, trying to escape up my throat it seemed. Eventually he let out a quiet breath, licking his lips and looking at something off in the distance behind me.

"I enjoy knowing you, ma'am. If you leaving meant I'd never see you again then sure, you staying would be preferable."

A smirk spread across my face before I could stop it and Arthur mirrored it, though there was an edge of questioning behind his.

"That's a lot of words, Arthur. Are you saying you like me?" I asked, allowing my tone to dip into something mischievous. Why not have a little fun?

"I like hearing what you've got to say, you've got an interesting way of thinking about things. You make for pleasant company. Yes, I like you," he said slowly, a slight playful edge to his words. His smirk wasn't going anywhere.

"Well, I'm glad," I simply said and he shook his head and laughed.

"Is this one of your 'caring too much about what other people think of you' things? Cause I thought we got over that, with Abigail," he said. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Not this time. I was just checking since I'm fond of you, too," I dared to say.

Arthur kept his eyes on me for a little while and I was certain I was going to have to lay down to recover from the way my heart had been pounding for so long. He cleared his throat and seemed to force himself to stop smiling, pouting his lips into this badly rendered serious face.

"Ma'am, if you're staying I'll treat you no different to any of the others. I welcome you with open arms, just as long as you keep pulling your weight, which I know you will," he said, turning and picking up the bucket, carrying it off towards the treeline. My legs carried me after him.

"Speaking of, you got anything on that I can help you with?" I asked. Arthur tossed the water out into the foliage then turned to me.

"You really have changed your tune, first time we rode out hunting together you couldn't seem to get away quick enough."

"Well, you know, that was back when I was still being all reclusive," I said, making Arthur chuckle.

"I ain't got nothing on till later; I'm meeting John in Valentine. I have a few hours before that, how's about we take a ride together? Staying out of trouble this time."

"Just take a ride? For leisure?”

"Yeah, for leisure. Or if you'd prefer, we'll say we're going out looking for… berries. Herbs. Gathering stuff. Whatever we call it, I could use some time away from here," he told me, placing his bucket down and waiting for my response.

"I'd like that. While we're out I'll keep my eye out for some oleander; Charles asked if I could get him some."

"You ain't gonna find much oleander around here, we'd have to ride out towards Lemoyne for that, prob'ly," he pointed out.

"Well, how long do you have before you're meeting John?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "We'll head in that direction and see how far we get, no promises. Finish your coffee and I'll go put a shirt on," Arthur touched my arm gently as he passed me on the way to his tent, and I watched him go as I picked up my coffee. It was on the verge of going cold, so I downed it in one.

Arthur and I set off once again before anyone else had woken up, anyone would think we were keeping secrets. It was another hot day and Arthur had handed me his spare hat again; commenting for a second time that it suited me. The hat itself was a little big on me but it fit me enough to stay on while riding, it had a wide, dark leather brim and a decorative purple band, studded with metal buttons all the way around. I hadn't seen myself in it, but I trusted Arthur's judgement in that I didn't look silly.

We didn't speak for quite some time, but it didn't feel awkward or strange. Our horses trotted side by side and the two of us took in the peace of the early morning, enjoying the picturesque views of the heartlands. I was content to ride in silence, assuming that Arthur was as lost in his head as I was, but he surprised me by being the one to speak first.

"Where'd you live, if you don't mind me asking? Before you started moving around?" He asked.

"Oh, in Lemoyne, actually. A bit outside of Saint Denis. You ever been to Saint Denis, Arthur?"

"Me? Nah, it's a big city. I don't much like those," he admitted. I looked over at him and he continued. "Far too much civilisation, I prefer it out west."

"I've never really been out west. Blackwater is the furthest I've been but I've never explored any of New Austin. Seemed a little like suicide, going on my own with just my tent, I've heard stories of cholera outbreaks and all sorts," I said. Arthur hummed in consideration.

"You were probably wise, staying away," he nodded in agreement. "So you're a city dweller, first and foremost?" He asked, his tone just a little bit teasing.

"I wouldn't go that far. Like I said, we lived outside of the city, but I did go in occasionally. It's busy there, and noisy. I much prefer these quieter parts, I've been staying in the heartlands mostly since then. Swamps ain't all that nice to camp in, with all the gators and such," I chuckled. "Plus there's some strange folk around there, it's much safer here."

"You'll find strange folk everywhere," Arthur pointed out and by his tone I imagined he'd had more than a few run-ins. He laughed as though something just occurred to him. "And a guess to a lot of people, we could be the strange folk."

"Yes, I suppose so," I agreed.

We fell quiet again, and the open space around us felt far too tempting. I was the next to break the silence.

"Can we go fast?" I asked, and Arthur sputtered out a surprised laugh.

"I thought I was out fishing with Jack again. You turn into a big kid when you're put behind the reins, huh?"

"May we gallop, sir?" I rephrased, putting on a more refined manner of speaking. Arthur smirked at me without saying anything, then called to his horse, using his spurs to speed him up. He bolted ahead of me and I giggled as I sped up after him.

Riding fast was one of my favourite feelings in the world. It was always so exhilarating, feeling the air blasting at your body, feeling the power behind your horse, covering so much ground and feeling completely free. I loved it.

I soon caught Arthur up and rode alongside him. The rhythmic pounding of hooves on the ground below and the whistle of wind past my ears provided a satisfying soundtrack; though I did have to catch Arthur's hat from flying off my head a number of times. It was fun, it made my heart pump as quick as a well timed smile from Arthur tended to, and I laughed aloud as we crossed the earth at impressive speeds.

We rode like that for a while, slowing up to give the horses a break by the time we reached Dewberry Creek.

"That enough excitement for you?" He asked me as we settled into a relaxed canter.

"For now," I grinned.

"How's that saddle suiting you?" He asked and I glanced down at it.

"It's great! Thank you for letting me use it," I said.

"It's yours now, I don't need it."

"Hey, can you catch?" I asked, reaching into the pocket of my jeans and retrieving a watch.

"From the back of a horse?" Arthur looked over at me with a cocked brow. I drew my arm back as if I was about to toss it to him. ”No, I probably can't!" He quickly said and I laughed; I was never actually going to throw it.

Our horses slowed even more and I steered Rayna closer to him, and handed Arthur the pocket watch.

"It's one of the ones we got from the Schwartz' place. I snagged it from the pile for you," I told him. He opened it up and inspected it. It was a fancy looking watch; not that I knew much about them. I just thought it was nice and I had wanted to give something to Arthur as a token of gratitude.

"Aw, well this is very nice. Thank you, ma'am," he said, his words mumbled just a little like he wasn't sure how to act.

"A little trade for the saddle, I suppose," I said. Arthur laughed.

"My old saddle that I was thinking of tossing?"

"Yeah well, that's a stolen watch, so I guess it's the thought that counts for the both of us," I said and Arthur seemed to agree.

"You know this thing is engraved?"

"Is it, where?”

"On the inside of the case, it says; so you will always hold me close," he read out. My face flushed, I hadn't noticed at all and I might've thought twice about giving it to him if I'd have known. No doubt he thought there was something behind it, a not so subtle hint. "Reckon it's from his wife?" He asked, and I was relieved that he seemed so unbothered by it.

After a moment to gather myself I said; "Either her or his last servant girl," and Arthur laughed aloud, clicking the watch closed and slipping it into his satchel. "Struck me as the type to always have a bit on the side."

"You know, it's a shame I couldn't come along with you to do that job," he said, surprising me.

"You'd've wanted to?"

"Yeah. Especially if I knew Micah was gonna go with you instead," he sighed.

"You really ain't fond of him, are you?" I observed and he gave me an obvious look. "Well, I thought he was a bit of a creep. He was great at his job but he sure weren't comfortable to be alone with."

"No surprises there. I reckon he'll try something with you, given half a chance. He's bothered all the girls, Abigail'll tell you; but you're the shiny new toy. Dutch knows what he's like, I'm not sure why he'd send him off with you.”

"I needed someone to do the job with and he was available," I shrugged.

"I suppose. Just you be careful with him."

”I will be. I've dealt with fellers like him before, in saloons all over these parts," I said, then glanced past him at the view behind him. "Wow, look at that. This country really is beautiful, ain't it?"

Both of us stopped on the trail for a moment, looking out across Scarlett Meadows. We were by an expanse of rolling hills filled with wildflowers, lush trees and wildlife. Deer were wandering in small clusters and the sound of birdsong surrounded us. It was moments like this that made me really appreciate how lucky I was to still be alive.

Arthur pulled a journal out of his satchel and flipped it open. Without saying a word he started sketching in it, putting down what he saw in front of him on paper. I was impressed by how his eyes stayed mostly on the scenery, only dipping down occasionally to check on where his pencil was going; it occurred to me he must draw a lot to be so confident with his marks.

"I won't be a minute," he murmured as he worked. I leaned forward, resting on the horn of my saddle as I waited for him.

Truth be told we could stay there all day, I was more than happy admiring the way he worked. The way his large hand gripped the pencil with surprising sensitivity, his wrist moving in jerky motions as he blocked in areas of light and dark, the way he was completely absorbed in what he was doing to the point where I wouldn't dream of speaking to him at the risk of distracting him. I was thoroughly rapt by him in that moment, and the realisation that my little crush on him was only growing more intense came knocking. My instinct was to look away from him at that, but I didn't.

By the time he was done the side of his hand was muckied with graphite from where he'd moved it across the paper, but he didn't seem to notice or mind as he lifted his journal, having a proper look at what he'd produced. He was good, the drawing he'd made stretched over two pages and it was lovely, and he'd done it so quickly. He flipped the page and wrote something down briefly, before closing up his journal and putting it away. With that, he picked up his reins and carried on.

He just wasn't going to say something about that?

"You draw?" I said, stating the obvious. "From what I saw that was really good, Arthur."

"I like to keep a record of the things I see," he told me. "I wouldn't know if they really are any good, but I draw them for myself so I suppose it don't really matter."

"Well, I thought it was good," I shrugged. "Not that my opinion matters."

"Thanks," he said, looking over at me. He looked like he was waiting for something, I just looked back at him blankly until he chuckled. "I reckon you're one of the first people who ain't asked to look."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to ask?" Oops, was that incredibly rude of me?

"No," he shook his head. "I'm pleasantly surprised, is all."

"Oh, good. Well, I didn't ask because I know those things are sometimes personal, and in your case it clearly is. I used to draw, but I couldn't get two lines sketched before someone was looking over my shoulder. It embarrassed me, to be honest, so I haven't done it in a while."

"You should start again. What did you like to draw?"

"Would it sound terribly conceited if I said I drew myself a lot? I used to sit in front of the mirror in my mother's room and sketch myself. I liked drawing faces but my family didn't like it when I tried to draw them, told me to stop staring. So I just used myself as a model," I chuckled.

"You wanna draw something now?" He offered.

"Right now?"

"Sure. I'll give you some paper, let you borrow my pencil. You can even draw me, if you like drawing faces. I don't mind, it'll give me an excuse to sit still for a while and do nothing," he laughed.

"Oh, that's a lot of pressure, it'll be bad. I haven't picked up a pencil in ages."

"You don't have to show me," he reassured me. He said it so softly and with such understanding that I felt touched by it. I paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Then, yes please. I'd enjoy that."

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